I gave you life, but cannot live it for you.
I can teach you things, but I cannot make you learn.
I can give you directions, but I cannot be there to lead you.
I can allow you freedom, but I cannot account for it.
I can take you to church, but I cannot make you believe.
I can teach you right from wrong, but I cannot always decide for you.
I can buy you beautiful clothes, but I cannot make you beautiful inside.
I can offer you advice, but I cannot accept it for you.
I can give you love, but I cannot force it upon you.
I can teach you to share, but I cannot make you unselfish.
I can teach you respect, but I cannot force you to show honor.
I can advise you about friends, but cannot choose them for you.
I can advise you about sex, but I cannot keep you pure.
I can tell you the facts of life, but I can't build your reputation.
I can tell you about drink, but I can't say "no" for you.
I can warn you about drugs but I can't prevent you from using them.
I can tell you about lofty goals, but I can't achieve them for you.
I can teach you about kindness, but I can't force you to be gracious.
I can warn you about sins, but I cannot make you moral.
I can love you as a child, but I cannot place you in God's family.
I can pray for you, but I cannot make you walk with God.
I can teach you about Jesus, but I cannot make Jesus your Lord.
I can tell you how to live, but I cannot give you eternal life.
I can love you with unconditional love all of my life...and I will!!! -- Mom
Monday, September 29, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Oh, the Times They Are A Changing
The modern age. I can deal with it, maybe one small change at a time. For instance, it was only about six years ago that our family got cell phones. Now, we live and die by the cell phone. I admittedly love, love, love the convenience of communicating at a moment's notice. I don't abuse this and call anyone three times daily, but how nice it is that I could. It is really a parent's ideal tool for making sure that all's right with the world.
But then came this new-fangled thing called "texting." Ward was the first to use this beginning a few years ago. It became an Army wide phenomenon. We all joke that it used to be the knees to go, especially with Ranger types who jump out of planes; but now it will be the thumbs! So I was accustomed to seeing the look of a serial texter , the bent head, the deafness that accompanies that, and the buzz/brrrpt of the returning message.
So it was with fear and trepidation that I allowed the Beaver to pick up the Rumor. It is a phone that is ideal for texting, in fact that was the general idea for the special design, with it's slide down mini-keyboard. Sure enough, this thing is constantly buzz/brrpting. The thing is I'm getting more communication from my son than ever before! Maybe he just doesn't like speaking, because when I called him before I never got an answer. Now, I text him and get immediate feedback. Shocker!!
And not only that, I sometimes will get a mini-dissertation, like last night when I got the full scope of his activity, who, what, where, why and even how! So, instead of the typical monosyllabic verbal response, I now get a human and somewhat personable answer.
Who woulda thunk it?
So maybe for some the mode of communication makes a vast difference. I can tell you for me it will never replace sitting together and sharing some banter over a great cup of Joe, but then I am from the party line era, "I'm ON the line," the fun age where we used to get the neighborhood scoop by listening in over the phone to the neighbors conversations until they heard you breathing, or the dog bark in the background.
But then came this new-fangled thing called "texting." Ward was the first to use this beginning a few years ago. It became an Army wide phenomenon. We all joke that it used to be the knees to go, especially with Ranger types who jump out of planes; but now it will be the thumbs! So I was accustomed to seeing the look of a serial texter , the bent head, the deafness that accompanies that, and the buzz/brrrpt of the returning message.
So it was with fear and trepidation that I allowed the Beaver to pick up the Rumor. It is a phone that is ideal for texting, in fact that was the general idea for the special design, with it's slide down mini-keyboard. Sure enough, this thing is constantly buzz/brrpting. The thing is I'm getting more communication from my son than ever before! Maybe he just doesn't like speaking, because when I called him before I never got an answer. Now, I text him and get immediate feedback. Shocker!!
And not only that, I sometimes will get a mini-dissertation, like last night when I got the full scope of his activity, who, what, where, why and even how! So, instead of the typical monosyllabic verbal response, I now get a human and somewhat personable answer.
Who woulda thunk it?
So maybe for some the mode of communication makes a vast difference. I can tell you for me it will never replace sitting together and sharing some banter over a great cup of Joe, but then I am from the party line era, "I'm ON the line," the fun age where we used to get the neighborhood scoop by listening in over the phone to the neighbors conversations until they heard you breathing, or the dog bark in the background.
Monday, September 22, 2008
From Pies to Poetry
I don't know why but running today made me think of poetry. Go figure! We have always liked poetry in our home, and I remember reading from a certain book in our homeschooling days that had some great poems. The kids at one time even had to pick some to memorize.
Betty chose Psalm 103 from the beautiful prose of the Psalms of David:
1 Praise the LORD, O my soul;
all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
2 Praise the LORD, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits-
3 who forgives all your sins
and heals all your diseases,
4 who redeems your life from the pit
and crowns you with love and compassion,
5 who satisfies your desires with good things
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.
And I think I chose Walt Whitman's O Captain, My Captain for Wally.
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
But in actuality he preferred these Little Willys:
Willy with a taste for gore,
Nailed his sister to the door.
Mother said with humor quaint,
Now, Willy dear, don't scratch the paint.
Into the family wishing well,
Willy pushed his sister Nell.
She's still there because it kilt her,
Now we have to buy a filter.
The Beave's should be Casey at the Bat
By Ernest Lawrence Thayer
Taken From the San Francisco Examiner - June 3, 1888
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, "If only Casey could but get a whack at that —
We'd put up even money now, with Casey at the bat."
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat;
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile lit Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt.
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped —
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one!" the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted some one on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said "Strike two!"
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer has fled from Casey's lip, the teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out.
But I think it is really anything by Shel Silverstein, but especially the following:
Crowded Tub
There's too many kids in this tub.
There's too many elbows to scrub.
I just washed a behind
That I'm sure wasn't mine,
There's too many kids in this tub.
Written by Shel Silverstein (1930-1999)
Betty chose Psalm 103 from the beautiful prose of the Psalms of David:
1 Praise the LORD, O my soul;
all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
2 Praise the LORD, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits-
3 who forgives all your sins
and heals all your diseases,
4 who redeems your life from the pit
and crowns you with love and compassion,
5 who satisfies your desires with good things
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.
And I think I chose Walt Whitman's O Captain, My Captain for Wally.
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
But in actuality he preferred these Little Willys:
Willy with a taste for gore,
Nailed his sister to the door.
Mother said with humor quaint,
Now, Willy dear, don't scratch the paint.
Into the family wishing well,
Willy pushed his sister Nell.
She's still there because it kilt her,
Now we have to buy a filter.
The Beave's should be Casey at the Bat
By Ernest Lawrence Thayer
Taken From the San Francisco Examiner - June 3, 1888
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, "If only Casey could but get a whack at that —
We'd put up even money now, with Casey at the bat."
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat;
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile lit Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt.
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped —
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one!" the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted some one on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said "Strike two!"
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer has fled from Casey's lip, the teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out.
But I think it is really anything by Shel Silverstein, but especially the following:
Crowded Tub
There's too many kids in this tub.
There's too many elbows to scrub.
I just washed a behind
That I'm sure wasn't mine,
There's too many kids in this tub.
Written by Shel Silverstein (1930-1999)
Sunday, September 21, 2008
What Is Your Favorite Pie?
Pies! There were so many, which to choose? Apple, blackberry, pumpkin chiffon, peach, Kentucky Derby-Pie (you'd think I would at least want to try that one), Pecan, coconut, so many choices, so little elastic in my pants! So I did the only sensible thing I could do and go with my all time favorite, lemon meringue.
It was so . . . delicious!
This is a little place in Louisville that has ice cream and pies. In fact the name is the Homemade Ice Cream and Pie Kitchen. I highly recommend it. And next time (you know there will be a next time) I want to try the strawberry-rhubarb. But they didn't have gooseberry. Just saying gooseberry takes me back to Anne of Green Gables when Miss Brooke says "oh, Anne, they'll just laugh at me and think I'm an old gooseberry!" Said with a soft "s" like guze. :)
But just look at the list below to see how difficult it was to make a choice!
WHIPPED TOPPING PIES
Key Lime
Peanut Butter
Reese’s
MERINGUE CREAM PIES (10” Deep Dish)
Banana
Butterscotch
Chocolate
Coconut
Lemon
NO SUGAR ADDED
Cherry & Apple
Spring/Summer
Baked Peach
Red Raspberry Cream
Strawberry Glaze
Fall/Winter
Mince
Pumpkin
FRUIT, CHESS & NUT PIES SEASONAL PIES
Our #1 (Best Seller)
“Dutch Apple with Caramel”
Double Crust Apple
Cherry
Blueberry
Strawberry Rhubarb
Plain Chess
Lemon Chess
Chocolate Chess
Pecan
Pecan Chocolate Chip
Unbaked pie shells -
Thin – Fruit • Thick – Cream
SPECIAL PIES
French Silk
Shaker Sugar
Sweet Potato
It was so . . . delicious!
This is a little place in Louisville that has ice cream and pies. In fact the name is the Homemade Ice Cream and Pie Kitchen. I highly recommend it. And next time (you know there will be a next time) I want to try the strawberry-rhubarb. But they didn't have gooseberry. Just saying gooseberry takes me back to Anne of Green Gables when Miss Brooke says "oh, Anne, they'll just laugh at me and think I'm an old gooseberry!" Said with a soft "s" like guze. :)
But just look at the list below to see how difficult it was to make a choice!
WHIPPED TOPPING PIES
Key Lime
Peanut Butter
Reese’s
MERINGUE CREAM PIES (10” Deep Dish)
Banana
Butterscotch
Chocolate
Coconut
Lemon
NO SUGAR ADDED
Cherry & Apple
Spring/Summer
Baked Peach
Red Raspberry Cream
Strawberry Glaze
Fall/Winter
Mince
Pumpkin
FRUIT, CHESS & NUT PIES SEASONAL PIES
Our #1 (Best Seller)
“Dutch Apple with Caramel”
Double Crust Apple
Cherry
Blueberry
Strawberry Rhubarb
Plain Chess
Lemon Chess
Chocolate Chess
Pecan
Pecan Chocolate Chip
Unbaked pie shells -
Thin – Fruit • Thick – Cream
SPECIAL PIES
French Silk
Shaker Sugar
Sweet Potato
Friday, September 12, 2008
Line Busting
Nearly everyone knows and can commiserate with having to wait in line. I will be bold in stating that Army spouses hold top honors in having to do that, and often! It has gotten better in recent years as different systems are put in place.
For instance, our pharmacy has a numbering process. You hand in a prescription at the counter, and are handed a number and you might be told, it will be about 45 minutes, or 2 hours, or come back tomorrow!
Yesterday I did just that. And I had a magazine so I settled in for my usual wait. But the PX Pharmacy has an added new twist. There is a scrolling electronic board that lists the names of completed RXs, and I thought, oh, that's nice, now I will know when the prescription is ready. But the numbers were also electronically placed above each pick-up window, so you would know when your number was up. I faithfully watch both boards, and then I notice something curious.
When we get to within three numbers of the number on my ticket, the line behind that ticket window is about 7-8 people deep. I then see my name on the scroll board. I step up to the line and ask "aren't they going by numbers?" The folks in front of me have numbers that are higher than mine, and at this point I am, frankly, a bit confused. They answered, well, yes, but you can get in line as soon as your name is on the board. I say to no one in particular, Then why do we have numbers? They try to answer this, but not to my satisfaction. And I say, I don't mind following the rules, but they should have told me that when they gave me the numbered ticket.
Anyway, these ladies were not going to give up there place in line, my ticket superseding theirs' notwithstanding. And getting a frantic call from the Beave who was going to be late to his soccer game didn't stir up any empathy either.
What I hadn't thought of was this. The pharmacy fills the orders by number. How had their names popped up before mine? Or maybe they hadn't. Maybe they had just gotten in line when they thought it was close enough that their order would be filled by the time they got to the window. In the one ladies case, it hadn't been and they had to fill it then. Now this brings us to the question of line cutting . . . it's a terrible thing.
These "sooners" are the same type of people who in a traffic jam cut out onto the berm or refuse to feed their cars nicely after a ballgame. What do you do with folks like this? Well, I know what I do. Dislike them!
For instance, our pharmacy has a numbering process. You hand in a prescription at the counter, and are handed a number and you might be told, it will be about 45 minutes, or 2 hours, or come back tomorrow!
Yesterday I did just that. And I had a magazine so I settled in for my usual wait. But the PX Pharmacy has an added new twist. There is a scrolling electronic board that lists the names of completed RXs, and I thought, oh, that's nice, now I will know when the prescription is ready. But the numbers were also electronically placed above each pick-up window, so you would know when your number was up. I faithfully watch both boards, and then I notice something curious.
When we get to within three numbers of the number on my ticket, the line behind that ticket window is about 7-8 people deep. I then see my name on the scroll board. I step up to the line and ask "aren't they going by numbers?" The folks in front of me have numbers that are higher than mine, and at this point I am, frankly, a bit confused. They answered, well, yes, but you can get in line as soon as your name is on the board. I say to no one in particular, Then why do we have numbers? They try to answer this, but not to my satisfaction. And I say, I don't mind following the rules, but they should have told me that when they gave me the numbered ticket.
Anyway, these ladies were not going to give up there place in line, my ticket superseding theirs' notwithstanding. And getting a frantic call from the Beave who was going to be late to his soccer game didn't stir up any empathy either.
What I hadn't thought of was this. The pharmacy fills the orders by number. How had their names popped up before mine? Or maybe they hadn't. Maybe they had just gotten in line when they thought it was close enough that their order would be filled by the time they got to the window. In the one ladies case, it hadn't been and they had to fill it then. Now this brings us to the question of line cutting . . . it's a terrible thing.
These "sooners" are the same type of people who in a traffic jam cut out onto the berm or refuse to feed their cars nicely after a ballgame. What do you do with folks like this? Well, I know what I do. Dislike them!
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Civics 101
People! It's really not that hard to make a decision about the upcoming election. First take a look at each of the parties platforms, and then compare them point for point. OK, if you're not up to wading through the fluff, the hyperbole and the glittering generalizations just google, compare democrat and republican platforms, and you will find several sites which bullet these points very nicely. Then you can hone in on the two or three issues that are make or break it for you. How hard is that?!
Yet, every day I hear people on the news who say they are undecided! Do us a favor, would you, undecideds, and stay home this election day.
Yet, every day I hear people on the news who say they are undecided! Do us a favor, would you, undecideds, and stay home this election day.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
To The Dogs
Is it just me, or do we seem to have an increased dog population in Clark area housing since the beginning of summer? We have had many new folks move in so it shouldn’t be surprising that we have many new furry faces in the neighborhood.
With that maybe we should talk about the social protocol that comes with owning a pet in a community. The first thing that comes to mind is the walking. Dogs have energy (think of it as dog Chi) and according to the Dog Whisperer it should be released on a daily basis. In other words: bleed the Chi. Dogs need to survey their domain, and many need to secure it.
My own male dog, Kip secures quite a bit of it. He is what is known as an Alpha, and as many trees as there are on the street he will take the trouble to mark them all. He is also part foxhound and this bit of him gets us into trouble sometimes on our daily mission. When he spots what he must think look like a fox, but is actually just a cute little fuzz ball of a dog, he kicks into high alert. “Sergeant Rudyard Kipling reporting for duty Sir!” I try to get him to sit but he’s not having it. “Sir, I’m ready Sir, send me in, NOW!” Kip, do you know what a gentle leader is? “Yes, sir, but . . . Thur, Thur?!” So we walk now with a gentle leader harness on him and that helps. As does the bag of meat scraps I carry.
What I’m saying is maintain control of your pet, even when it’s on the lead. And please don’t expect your forty-pound five or six year old child to be able to that with a 60-70 pound animal at the other end. Follow the post rules and never let your dog run loose. I’ve had close encounters of a very bad kind with loose dogs when walking mine. And when it happens accidentally just get them in as soon as possible. We fellow dog owners understand that kids leave doors open and things happen. What we don’t have patience with is folks routinely slipping up.
Another habit that dogs have that is hard to control is barking. After all, it is their form of communication, and just like humans you have your quiet ones and your, let’s say, more gregarious ones. Again, my black hound is a loud one. I try for the neighbors’ sake not to let him out when there will be things he will bark at, which is everything, from people, to other dogs, to a leaf falling from a tree! Just last week he was on a barking jag and I finally figured out that a chipmunk had gotten into our trashcan. After several hours of barking the poor little thing trapped in the can finally died from a nervous embolism, and I hope I can spare my new neighbors the same fate. Kip is now enrolled in Barkaholics Anonymous and I will be attending Bark-Anon, so things should improve. There will be a certain amount of dog conversation that goes on in the neighborhood, though, and that will be especially true when we walk the tree-lined streets of 5th Avenue and we hear the alarm spread from home to home as we perambulate along. Isn’t nice to know that our sentinels never sleep?
And that brings me to the last bit of dog protocol. It’s a tough subject to broach but it should be addressed because no one likes to receive the canine gift that keeps on giving, especially once its embedded in the crevices of a running shoe. Sure it’s biodegradable, but when it drops in a place where kids will be playing just do what I do: take a bag and take IT (the stuff which must not be named) with you!
With that maybe we should talk about the social protocol that comes with owning a pet in a community. The first thing that comes to mind is the walking. Dogs have energy (think of it as dog Chi) and according to the Dog Whisperer it should be released on a daily basis. In other words: bleed the Chi. Dogs need to survey their domain, and many need to secure it.
My own male dog, Kip secures quite a bit of it. He is what is known as an Alpha, and as many trees as there are on the street he will take the trouble to mark them all. He is also part foxhound and this bit of him gets us into trouble sometimes on our daily mission. When he spots what he must think look like a fox, but is actually just a cute little fuzz ball of a dog, he kicks into high alert. “Sergeant Rudyard Kipling reporting for duty Sir!” I try to get him to sit but he’s not having it. “Sir, I’m ready Sir, send me in, NOW!” Kip, do you know what a gentle leader is? “Yes, sir, but . . . Thur, Thur?!” So we walk now with a gentle leader harness on him and that helps. As does the bag of meat scraps I carry.
What I’m saying is maintain control of your pet, even when it’s on the lead. And please don’t expect your forty-pound five or six year old child to be able to that with a 60-70 pound animal at the other end. Follow the post rules and never let your dog run loose. I’ve had close encounters of a very bad kind with loose dogs when walking mine. And when it happens accidentally just get them in as soon as possible. We fellow dog owners understand that kids leave doors open and things happen. What we don’t have patience with is folks routinely slipping up.
Another habit that dogs have that is hard to control is barking. After all, it is their form of communication, and just like humans you have your quiet ones and your, let’s say, more gregarious ones. Again, my black hound is a loud one. I try for the neighbors’ sake not to let him out when there will be things he will bark at, which is everything, from people, to other dogs, to a leaf falling from a tree! Just last week he was on a barking jag and I finally figured out that a chipmunk had gotten into our trashcan. After several hours of barking the poor little thing trapped in the can finally died from a nervous embolism, and I hope I can spare my new neighbors the same fate. Kip is now enrolled in Barkaholics Anonymous and I will be attending Bark-Anon, so things should improve. There will be a certain amount of dog conversation that goes on in the neighborhood, though, and that will be especially true when we walk the tree-lined streets of 5th Avenue and we hear the alarm spread from home to home as we perambulate along. Isn’t nice to know that our sentinels never sleep?
And that brings me to the last bit of dog protocol. It’s a tough subject to broach but it should be addressed because no one likes to receive the canine gift that keeps on giving, especially once its embedded in the crevices of a running shoe. Sure it’s biodegradable, but when it drops in a place where kids will be playing just do what I do: take a bag and take IT (the stuff which must not be named) with you!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
The Best Man For Fhe Job
The best man for the job of vice president is a woman. Sarah Palin wowed the RNC last evening and I stayed up past my bedtime to hear her speak. It was worth it. She gave the best oorrah speech since Reagan's shining city on a hill speech in 1989. That's a long time to wait.
This speech was substance over style, though she delivered it quite well. She told us things about herself, what she's done in Alaska, a little about her family, but most of importantly, what she thinks about the job she is set to take on, and why she supports McCain for president. All that and a bag of chips! Because she used humor and facts she stirred the crowd to a place we Republicans haven't been to in a while, that of excitement and optimism about the upcoming election.
Beaver and I watched the crowds. I asked him where he thought all those folks wearing the large cowboy hats were from. "New Jersey?" Ha ha! It was a good mix of every man there, and their enthusiasm became infectious. I woke up with a smile on my face!
Here's to the new Iron Lady! The hockey mom pit bull with lipstick!
This speech was substance over style, though she delivered it quite well. She told us things about herself, what she's done in Alaska, a little about her family, but most of importantly, what she thinks about the job she is set to take on, and why she supports McCain for president. All that and a bag of chips! Because she used humor and facts she stirred the crowd to a place we Republicans haven't been to in a while, that of excitement and optimism about the upcoming election.
Beaver and I watched the crowds. I asked him where he thought all those folks wearing the large cowboy hats were from. "New Jersey?" Ha ha! It was a good mix of every man there, and their enthusiasm became infectious. I woke up with a smile on my face!
Here's to the new Iron Lady! The hockey mom pit bull with lipstick!
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