Garden Wars, 2/17/18

Perfidy!  Treachery!  The mail carrier arrived 3 hours EARLY!  What could it mean?  What kind of devious ploy was being perpetrated?  Confusion reigned.  Merry was so befuddled, he lay down like a sphinx in the grass and became temporarily deaf.  It must have been some kind of battle fatigue.  He was oblivious to all commands, blandishments, and orders to regroup.  He didn’t even respond to the secret code word, TREAT!

Pippin took up a lookout post on my knee, while Hamilton patrolled the bushes.  Suddenly, the enemies’ plans were revealed, with the incursion of an orange cat.  It was unheard of!  Never had an orange cat been sighted in this territory before!  Pippin launched himself from my knee in full voice, and his comrades rushed to support him.  The cat jumped to the top of the fence, walked along it, and hissed.  Hissed!

This was just too much for brave Hamilton!  He launched himself at the truck of a palm tree and attempted to gain enough height to clear the border wall, and follow the evil cat into the wild unknown beyond.  It’s unknown!  And wild!  It’s said to be the domain of skateboards and motorcycles, and huge metal monsters that crush small dogs into jelly!  I restrained him just in time!

Remember friend, mail carriers can’t be trusted.  They are well known dog haters!  They scout the neighborhood and  report your defenses to the enemy.  If your mail carrier arrives at a strange time and pretends he or she is just delivering the mail as usual, don’t fall for it.  It’s a trick.  It could even lead to cats!  Monkey!

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Garden Wars, 2/16/18

Quite a significant day of battle in the Garden War.  Hamilton was surprised by a sneaky lizard attack, and jumped a foot in the air.  He spent nearly half an hour digging through leaf litter and nosing through the bushes after the culprit.  Then a squirrel stole an apple and had to be chased across the yard.  He couldn’t get the apple through the slats in the fence, and abandoned it – stuck and hanging.  He then proceeded up a tree, and from his secure perch delivered some very rude comments while scratching a persistent itch in a very insolent manner.

Into the battle sprang a tiny brown hummingbird, who has decided to press a claim to the territory.  She fearlessly dove  at all and sundry: dogs, squirrels, crows, and most especially other hummingbirds. She failed to notice that her supply depot had been discovered by bees, who were happily draining the hummingbird feeder, pushing each other out of the way like gluttons.

What the result of these battles would have been, I’m afraid I cannot say.  The gardener appeared with a lawn mower Monster, and I had to insist that the brave heroes make a strategic retreat.  It’s hard on a soldier’s pride to have to be content with giving the invader a good barking from the safety of a window!  I had to distribute a treat of raw carrot as a balm to their wounded pride!

Must press on.  Merry has a smelly patch of yellow on his head that must be attended to.  A “friendly fire” incident, I’m afraid, only treatable with a (shhhhhh) bath.  Monkey!

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I just watched a moving commentary by Brooke Baldwin on CNN, about a child who was bullied and marginalized at school.  It made me think of my Devon.

There were no bullied or marginalized children in Devon’s orbit.  He didn’t allow it – didn’t acknowledge that such a thing could be.  He built bridges between groups and cliques of children, and cared about them all.  After his death his favorite teacher told me that if she noticed that a child was having difficulty, she would point him or her out to Devon, and he would make that child the center of his attention on the playground, pulling others along with him.  I often wonder what he could have accomplished with his giant heart if his light hadn’t been extinguished at the age of 7.  I miss you so much, Devs.  Monkey!

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False Equivalency

Look, my son was murdered with a samurai sword and my grandsons were killed with a pillow. You can’t ban pillows. That is silly. However, if the Las Vegas murderer had been armed with swords and pillows, he wouldn’t have been able to rain death and injury onto more than 500 people from above. Only a gun can do that. So, stop with the false equivalencies. I’m sick of it!

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I’m feeling melancholy today.  A memory popped up on Facebook about a cancelled hearing and waiting for a trial date.  Not something pleasant to share with a smile.  A hard time.  A sad time.

This is, in its own way, a sad time.  Not like then, of course not.  But sad, nonetheless.  I almost feel as though our country has fallen into some kind of dark hole, and that is hard to get people to even see the need to climb out.  Why such horrible intolerance and cruelty?  No one listens to each other, and the walls between belief systems have grown so tall!  It’s us or them now.  If you don’t believe everything that I do, and toe some kind of invisible line, then you are a horrible, evil person, and I get to call you names, hope for your downfall, cheer when you are in pain, and say that it serves you right.  Why?  Is this the America of barn raisings, and bringing food to your neighbor in sorrow, and picking up a stranger’s child who has fallen from a bicycle?  I see many posts that mourn the loss of these things, but the same people post that California should fall into the ocean and good riddance.  Or advocate withholding medical care from a sick child because of wrongs done by the parent.  You can’t have both.  This is a kind nation, kind to everyone, or it’s a mean selfish nation and only a small percentage deserves to prosper.  Which do you want to live in?  Seriously?  If your town was facing a flood, or you lost your job, or your faith was used as a reason to persecute you, how would you hope the rest of the nation would respond?

i’ve been thinking about my boys a lot today.  Neal was invariably kind and helpful to everyone, whether he knew them or not.  Ian, made friends right and left, at the drop of a hat.  It never occurred to him that anyone was not his friend at first sight.  And Devon, he was a builder of bridges.  He brought disparate groups of children together, and included everyone in play – even kids who didn’t like Star Wars.  No one was “other” to Devon.  The only times I ever saw him angry, was when someone was being treated unfairly.  He was 7 years old.  He saw the wothiness in every single person, and acted on it every single day!  Why can’t today’s adults manage to even be civil to each other?  Tolerance shouldn’t be either a meaningless buzz word, or something to snear at… not in a pluralistic, democratic, humanistic society like this is supposed to be.  Be a Devon for a change.  Build a bridge.  You will find that you have many things in common with people on the other side of the canyon.  Have some tolerance.  Monkey.

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Dog Day Afternoon

  • That’s it. I have had it with these dogs. Mala’s Hamilton mysteriously escapes from my backyard, and can unlock the doggie door, so I have to block it with a 30 lb bag of dog food. That means everyone has to be taken out front when they need to “go.” None of the five needs to go at the same time. Every time I try to relax or eat or work on something, someone wants out. So, I set everything aside and get up, and every single one takes that very moment to block my way in order to scratch, or nap, or tangle yarn, or wrestle with each other, and I wear my voice yelling “move”, while I trip on yarn or over a dog, or on a ball that Pippin just has to throw into my moving feet. Or I may even have an accident, because they won’t let me get to the bathroom. Once we are outside, Mala’s Brock immediately wants to go in, because he hates the rain, or he wants to eat or thinks it would be cool to knock over the trash or just because he wants to make me crazy. I can’t just let him in, because he wants me to come, too, and barks and barks at me. Merry is always mad about the closed off doggie door, because he likes to run outside and bark at stuff, and he can’t get out there. So he sits out in the middle of the grass, even in the pouring rain, and refuses to come inside until I go out and grab him. While I am trying to get Merry inside, stuff happens. My food is eaten, or my coffee knocked over, or my slipper peed on, or my dirty clothes pulled from the hamper. Theoden is always in the middle of my chair when I come back to it, and won’t get down unless it’s time for his medicine when he hides. Then as soon as a movie I want to see comes on, or I get to a tricky spot in a pattern, or I sit down with a nice cup of tea, it all starts again..Maybe they are all possessed or something.  Monkey.
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