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Monday, November 28, 2005
Yay!
This year I did the National Novel Writing Month thing along with Lydia who weaseled me into it. I finished my novel ahead of the deadline and feel astonishingly good about it considering what drecch that story is. You know, it got so that I needed to be sitting and typing. I recommend this to everyone. It's so empowering to realize that you can actually get that many words down on one subject. Who knew? And as far as the story goes, the surprising thing is to find that if you just begin, the story happens.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Autumn in the South
Here it is, November 12. That is getting into chilly time up north. In Norfolk, Virginia, however, this is just another warm month like all the others. What do I mean by warm? Thank you for asking. Warm is when tomato plants are covered with blossoms and there are many green tomatoes. Warm is when the flowers planted in the spring are still blooming themselves into the ground. It's warm if the grass is still growing so fast that it has to be cut at least once/week. Warm is a temperature so high that a car sitting in the sunshine will be very hot when you open the door. All of those indices of warmness prevail here in November Norfolk.
Wednesday, November 9, 2005
Dirty Tricks
Yesterday was election day here in Virginia. It was a chance for bad guys to win by doing dirt to a good guy. Bad guys had that chance but they did not...whew!.... succeed. Low-down, evil Republicans, reaching well below the mark set by the Nixon administration, tried to discredit Lieutenant Governor Kaine in his bid for the governor's seat. Such a web of inuendo and lies they sewed together, crazy stuff mostly designed to appeal to the worst instincts of down-south backwoods racists or, in an opposite flip, to enrage minority voters. It was all beyond belief which is why it almost worked. If you do something so crudely terrible that no one would even dream of trying it, no one will believe the evidence of their eyes/ears/minds when you actually go ahead and make it happen. Moral: when you wish to get away with being rotten, go big and you might realize your fiendish dream. In this case, the bad guys did not get away with their no-good scheme. Kaine was elected and Jerry Kilgore and his shockingly vile henchpersons will have to try again some other time.
What do I mean by "vile"? OK. Here's one small example. Tim Kaine's campaign placed political ads all over the internet wherever they thought that voters might see and read. One such place is a blog run by a black guy. On this same blog the Kilgore campaign then quickly paid to place an ad which featured a black man in whiteface doing a Steppin'Fetchit-like impersonation. Offended, the Kaine campaign pulled their ad. Gleeful, the Kilgore campaign hurriedly took down their own ad and then went to the print media with the accusation that Kaine refused to advertise in a minority-run situation thus proving that he's a racist. That's the technique; set up a lie and then exploit it as though it were evidence of unfitness for office.
Well, his many, many instances of this slimey approach to the political process failed to get Kilgore into office...which proves that good guys win once in a while in spite of dirty tricks designed to keep them down. So, I guess this first Tuesday of November, 2005, was a good day for truth, justice, and the American way.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Silly
Today is supposed to mark the sad death of the 2,000th American to die in the war. That is just silly. The war didn't start in Iraq. Remember the fighting in Afghanistan where nearly 300 Americans died? As a matter of fact if you count everything fairly in this "war on terror", including those who died in the wreckage on 9/11, the true opening of hostilities, we are nearer the 5,500 mark. Spinning the facts misleads silly people into doing silly things. For instance tonight ...in about 45 minutes, actually...there is supposed to be a candlelight vigil in memory of the fallen 2,000 of this war...it's going to be up the street on the water overlooking Knitting Mill Creek and the boats across the way, pretty place.
Last night President Bush spoke at a Republican fundraiser where he mentioned that we have now lost 2,000 Americans. Well...that isn't a lie. We have lost that many. And about 3,500 more. The President just didn't mention all those others. He gave his usual reason for continuing the war, that we owe it to those who have already died. Maybe he's right, but I have a feeling that if we could interview some ghosts, could talk to some of those recent war dead, they'd say, "Oh, hell, no. Forget that lousy part of the world. It isn't worth the life of one more American. Just get the hell home." Our whole Middle Eastern War Machine is thudding deeper and deeper into the gumbo. We aren't any closer to "winning" now than we were back before the incursion into Afghaniston. I say, "Call it a loss and get out. Let them say they won. I don't care. I just want it to be over."
Back when the USA was suffering through the Vietnam debacle, the Democrats were the bad guys. They got us into it and a Republican president got us out. This time the Republicans dragged us into war and the Democrats want to haul us back up out of the mire. Stupidity has nothing to do with party affiliation. Both parties have done their share of getting us into trouble. I say that it's time to simply quit. Stop fighting and go home. Leave the Middle East to it's historic inhabitants with all of their cultural pluses and minuses. If they want to kill each other, that's their problem. If they want to be at peace, wonderful. The main thing is, from my perspective, I don't care a tiny little rat's ass about the Middle East.
You know, and this is a side matter, I suppose, the only positive outcome of this trouble for America, it might be the energy situation. That's not worth anyone's death, either, but at least it's a positive. For many years scientists have warned that we must switch to non-fossil fuels for a number of reasons. This advice has done nothing but put a few hybrid cars on the road. We still depend on coal, oil, and natural gas for almost all of our energy. Now, with gasoline prices way over the roof and headed for the clouds, we will probably see some real effort toward an oil-free economy. Americans won't forever tolerate the outrageous price gouging we experience at this time. We all have know for a long time that we should turn off the oil. Now we have a really good reason to get going toward that sensible goal. When we first entered IraW, some superhawk types said, "Hee,hee cackle, cackle, we'll go in there, take over the oil, and have the cheapest gasoline since the early 1900's." Didn't happen. Went the other way around. They beat us up and they kept the oil, too, and we have nothing to show for this expression of our military might except for a growing pile of corpses.
I'm not going to that silly candle light vigil tonight. Instead I'm once more going to remind myself that when election day rolls around again, I should vote for whoever does the most toward getting us out of this horrible predicament where Americans die so trivially that the president can't even remember over half of the dead.
This And That
Last night several times the whole house shook like a wet dog. The remnants of Hurricane Wilma were going by out over the water and the attendant winds were pretty strong. Then this morning when at 6:00A.M. Porque and I stepped out onto the porch for out first walk of the day, it was so cold that we both had to go back for coats. I've been down south too long. Sixty degrees Fahrenheit feels cold to me, now.
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Lydia's cat is a truly magnificent specimen; stark black, long, silky fur, huge luminous all-green eyes. Hoity is very beautiful, and just in time for Halloween. In the summer he's a bit less of whatever he is now. Last year on the evening of Oct.31, he sat beside me on the porch steps over at Lydia's house. I stayed home and gave out candy on Halloween while Lydia/Dan/kids went trick-or-treating. I was wearing a witch hat and black shawl. One little girl approached veeeeerrrry cautiously and whispered to me, "Is it real?" pointing to Hoity.
Anyway, I've been feeding Hoity while the Netzer family is down at Disney World. Lydia said that Hoity probably wouldn't come for food because he's nearly feral. HA! Each time I go over there, he's sitting waiting for me, watches me get out of the car, runs around back, goes in through the cat door, and when I finally unlock the front door and am inside, Hoity is yowling at the laundry door waiting for food. He scorns the dry cat kibbles Lydia would prefer him to eat, instead insisting on expensive and no doubt tastier, moist roast beef chunks in gravy.
Netzer Fish also has an alternative food preference. The first day I went to feed, I could find no fish food and so I gave the fish a few bread crumbs. Then the next day I took Fish a can of special food designed to augment his beautiful color. He cruised by the expensive new flakes and didn't eat any. I was forced to give him some more bread crumbs...which he attacks hungrily.
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Today is a historic occasion and a happy one. I got a Norfolk library card. YAHOO!!!! Came home with an armload of new stories. There is no limit to the number of books you can check out at this library. It's a small room, part of an office complex full of agencies designed to assist with addiction recovery, give advice re. abortion/adoption/family planning, provide day care for the elderly, keep track of parolees, monitor the health of indigent pregnant women on the WIC program, help preschoolers from poverty backgrounds to arrive at school prepared, provide information for battered women and children, counsel troubled teenagers, handle problems with food stamps and other government 'benefits', deal with adult illiteracy...things like that. The building is full to bursting with loud, ghetto types demanding this and that service or wanting a grievance to be addressed. I went inquiring from person to person until at length I found myself in this small room toward the back of the building. Through a door I saw a room full of computers where kids typed furiously, eyes on the screens...this building attaches to a public school which shares some of the amenities. The librarian was a Spanish-speaking person who told me brokenly that she came from Puerto Rico. It took a while but she eventually got that I wanted a library card. After taking my credentials, she left and finally returned with two new plastic cards for me. While she was gone doing the bureaucratic bit, I selected books to check out right away. The nice librarian solemnly warned me to be careful about due dates because it can be terrible to pay a fine..."It is TEN CENTS PER DAY!!!!!!" Posters here and there advertised special days and events for ghetto preschoolers...story times with various inducements such as cookies, pictures with basketball celebrities, cartoons afterward for kids who sit through the story... No doubt I will read my way through this particular branc of the library in a hurry. Perhaps the librarian figured this out in 'conversation' with me because she suggested, "When you want a book we don't have, all you have to do is to go on the computer and access the whole Norfolk library database. When you find a book you'd like to read, tell me and I'll have it sent over from whatever branch library has it. That takes a couple of days but it's convenient. Or you could drive to any other branch. This is the smallest one. Most of them are a whole building. Your new card is good anywhere in the city." Well, hey! Sounded great to me in spite of the fact that it did not take the exact form you see here...more like a confused Spanglish.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
One Begins To Detect A Pattern Here
Last Christmas my dear young relatives, Lydia/Dan/the beautiful little people all went to Wisconsin to soak up some time with Dan's extended family. No sooner had the young Netzers left their driveway over in Ghent, then snow began to fall. By the time they got to West Virginia, that snow was serious stuff. By the time they got to Ohio, snow fell so fast that there was almost no way to go forward. Being Dan, Dan pressed relentlessly on until the next morning when he realized that he had to stop and wait for highway snow removal. The little family sheltered in a motel. Dan went out and about buying windshield ice remover, warm coats, etc. Later that day when snow plows began to function, the Netzers once more aimed their noses toward Wisconsin. It was a long trip and they saw a lot of snow, a tremendous, historic storm.
A couple of weeks ago, the Netzers made another excursion. This time up to Washington, D.C., where Dan was supposed to participate in a 50-mile bicycle race. Until race time, the little family planned to see The National Zoo, The Smithsonian, governmental buildings and monuments.
As they pulled out of their driveway over in Ghent, rain began to fall. Before they reached northern Virginia, the rain was pretty serious. The next day, rain or not, they did visit the zoo and the Smithsonian. Governmental buildings were barely visible through streaks of rain coming down the van's windows. On race morning Dan ate his required immense breakfast. He paid no attention to the torrential rain. Dan went up north to race and he darn well intended to get out and ride the bike no matter what. However, the race was called off due to bad weather. You see, the race organizers are men unlike Dan. They notice things like 2"/hour precipitation. So eventually the Netzer family found its way back home to southeastern Virginia...where the sun was shining.
Now the intrepid Netzers plan to leave for 10 days with Uncle Mickey at Disney World. Dan will be in business meetings most of the time, but Lydia and the kids hope to see the sights and ride the rides. Meanwhile down in the Gulf Of Mexico we find Hurricane Wilma, boasting the lowest air pressure ever recorded in the Atlantic Basin. Wilma is a category 5 hurricane, packing winds of from 175 to 225 MPH. All forecasters predict that Central Florida will be hosting Wilma within the next week when the hurricane will only be bigger, wetter, windier and more dangerous than it now is.
Conclusion: the entire Netzer family does not very often take trips. Segments of the family go here and there pretty frequently but the whole family all together, out and about, that happens rather seldom. Which is a good thing. "Historic" storms shouldn't happen more than once in a long while. This is still a young family. The day has not come when a Netzer family trip destination will automatically appear on national television as a place to avoid. Not...yet.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Pow! Pow! Bang! Bang!
Each of the last two nights has been made more interesting by the sound of gunfire. On Saturday P.M. there was so much bang, bang, pow, pow, that everyone on this block was all up in arms, hysterical. Police swarmed over the turf surrounding 38th Street seeking the shooter. No luck. Then last night was more of the same.
Last night I broke with a cherished personal tradition by calling police who said, "Oh, we've already had lots of calls about that. Officers are on the way."
This A.M. I heard that a man going by my house when the shots began to fly, he ran behind my house and sheltered out of sight of the street behind my garbage tubs. When he judged the coast to be clear enough, he ran home. He'd intended to simply jog to the corner store for a jug of milk. Once back at his house, he got the car out and drove in the other direction to a different store.
What we have here on 38th Street is a little bit of time travel to the bad old days of Dodge City...gunslingers and flying bullets. What I want to see, is the arrival of a heroic and at least somewhat sentient new sherriff. I want the new law man to stride up and down 38th Street calling out all those cowardly night-time scarers of pedestrians. I want the brave and nimble new sherriff to shoot the bad guys down like the dogs that they are while the rest of us peek timidly out from behind the curtains, "Ooh, looky there, Mabelene. That new law man, he gunned down every single member of the 38th Street Gang. We gonna have us one heck of a funeral, girl."
It is just crazy-ass outrageous that in the United States of America in a beautiful neighborhood, people are afraid to walk to the corner store of an evening because some bonehead has a gun and he lets off a spray of gunfire now and then. What right do we have to go to Iraq in order to "civilize" those folks when right here at home, a pretty urban area is a war zone of normal citizens vs. bad guys. All last fall, winter, spring, summer and now this fall again we are afraid. Police try hard but cannot catch the bad people.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Not For The Weak
Recently a new arrival to our neighborhood complained on the local e-network that her young son was treated badly at the nearest McDonalds, the Riverview/Granby McDonalds of Norfolk, Virginia. I thought about that yesterday, October 15, 1:00 P.M., when my little grandson and I stopped there as usual for his favorite fries and ice cream cone and my favorite fast food.
The ear-phoned and therefore extremely-loud order-taker asked what I wanted. I answered, "A large order of fries, an ice cream cone and a number 3 meal."
She correctly repeated my order. After I paid, she handed out a diet Coke and nothing else, but seeing me still at the window, she thundered, "Ma'am, you have been served. You may leave!"
I demurred, "But I didn't get my order yet."
She conferred with her side-kick and handed out an ice cream cone that had been smashed upside down into a drinking glass.
I gave it back and asked for a plain ice cream cone, not one upside down in a glass. She argued and insisted that I'd already received a cone, even one with the added bonus of a GLASS, an extra item.
No, I just wanted a normal cone, one that the little boy in the back seat could hold and eat. She huffed and then said, as though explaining to a moron, "You see, ma'am, we're taking care of you. We're doing your order. You just need to show a little patience."
Ahhh. Here came the cone. I took it and still did not leave the drive-through window.
"Ma'am. PLEASE leave the window. You have been served."
"What about the fries? What about the lunch number three?."
"I gave you that."
"No, not yet."
Now the side-kick stuck her face out the window and tried to straighten me out, "WE ARE TAKING CARE OF THIS. PERFECTLY. Your order is coming up. Please!"
Girl number one, however, stuck to her story, "I did give you your order. I even gave you a different cone."
Me: "The fries. The number three lunch."
Girl number one, exasperated; "YOU GOT IT!!! I gave you a Coke."
Me: "What's that in your hand?"
Girl: "Oh." It was a sack containing fries and also the items in a number three lunch.
You know, like everyone else on Planet Earth, we love McDonalds food. Benny adores the ice cream and fries. I am willing to tough it out at the window of my local McDonalds in order to get the little guy his usual treat. However, the behavior I have here quoted verbatim...this kind of stuff...uh, it got very, very old a very, very long time ago. Maybe given the level of pay, maybe given that McDonalds workers are entry-level workers, the local manager feels he/she is getting a fair response from his/her team. I don't agree.
Friday, October 14, 2005
I Suppose This Is Good News
I have been getting madder at the Republican Party the longer this Iraqi debacle drags onward and downward. So even before the president got hit by the charge that his Emergency Management Mechanism is a rusty wreck, even before then I was feddy uppy. I wanted to get Mr. Bush on the phone and yell, "Go stand in the corner until you're sorry!" I steamed. I stewed.
Then today, with interest, I read on the MSNBC website that the president has hit the proverbial banana peel on the floor with his heel and is moving rapidly forward in a downward arc. Supposedly, a recent poll shows that if the next election were now, voters would send Alfred E. Neuman to Washington because he could not do worse than present leadership. Well, that's good. It makes me feel better. It seems that I am not the last angry citizen. My misery has company.
Another thing...the administration that has had a great time romping over the concept of human rights and the basic idea of the rule of law...now a bunch of them are worried that their rights may not adequately be represented in legal procedings focused on the way they have been acting like the law was a weapon for them to use on those who disagreed with them. My, my. I do not rejoice in their pain. However, I am tired of them. Bunch of hypocritical weasels. In a way it is not good news that so many prominent Republicans are in deep political schmoo. But in a way, it is.
My favorite statistic is this one...as of today, 2% of black people support the present administration. That is impressive. Now, if all those angry black people would go out and register to vote in the next election...and then if they'd actually VOTE when the time came, we could get some new people down in Washington for me to be mad at. Of course Republicans don't give a rat's little behind what black people think because most black people don't vote. I vote, though, and two years from now, I'm not going to forget about all the lousy management that has our great country looking like a fire drill in a chicken coop.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Motivation
I am a Weight Watcher, paid up and even attending meetings occasionally. There, the lecturer does what she can to promote weight loss in the ensuing week. She's not particularly eloquent. To encourage herself, ordinarily she holds up a visual aid of some description; a chart or a book of recipes, a paper of "BRAVO" stickers, a sack of snacks approved by the head honchos of Weight Watchers. She invites audience participation, asks questions to get people talking, finishes up right on time and scampers out the door to her next location. Lecturers are like priests apparently...nobody wants to be one. Not enough to go around. Meanwhile her side-kick weighs everyone, records the current tonnage, handles sales of this and that book or snack item. Fifteen individuals show up for the average meeting, sometimes a few more, sometimes less. Meetings. If you desperately needed a shot of motivation, a Weight Watcher meeting would be your last destination.
So how do I keep myself earnestly trying? I don't. No one would claim that I do a good job of this. For example, right now I'm drinking coffee into which I poured a good big blop of heavy cream. And I just ate peanut butter toast. So far though, at weigh-in, I've been down a pound and a half each time. I lose a tiny fragment of weight each week...knock on wood...today is weigh-in day. Nearly all of my fellow meeting attendees are in the same boat...a pound to a pound and a half/week. Lots of grousing and grumbling at weigh-in time. "For this I didn't eat a piece of my own birthday cake?"
Last week the lecturer's theme was that we should cherish our diminished expectations. No, we aren't losing weight fast enough to make us happy. We're all fed up. However, think about it folks...if you lose a pound and a half per week, by this time next year, you will have lost seventy-eight pounds!!!! And since the loss has occured so slowly it will be more easily sustained because you retrain yourself during that year, you get new food habits, you teach yourself how to say NO and how to accept the NO you've said. That was the gist. Not motivational at all in my case. Woohoo. A year from now. I could be dead. I'm old. What would be the point of living my remaining months in deprivation if the only result were a slightly less corpulent corpse? No point at all.
Clearly, when it comes to motivation, I'm on my own. So I am in the process of arranging prizes for myself. The first is quite glorious. When I have lost twenty pounds, officially lost those pounds at meeting weigh-in, I can wear my fabulous new shoes. Oh, yes, they are too glorious to believe. The leather was treated to make it look like rusty copper. OY!!! I have those shoes up on the mantel. Lydia, seeing them declared, "Oh, that is YOU. Wear them this Sunday." No can do. The magic number is twenty. Twenty pounds. I'll be lucky to have lost anything this week let alone twenty pounds. I can see those shoes, however, and I want them.
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