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The Dial on God’s Clock
The First Day, as the sages call it, or Sunday as the pagans call it, arrives overcast but almost warm at 60° (16°C). Snooks arose an hour before I did and already had Kippur the budgie’s bathtub put in the cage and fresh food in her cup. So she was already quite sassy when I staggered bleary eyed into the studio with my morning coffee. She likes some of the You Tube offerings on the social sites, and a few postings on facebook fired her joy of the new day to almost celestial heights.
I had a couple of emails to get out right away, so I still haven’t gotten to the News or the Blogs, though did manage to give facebook a quick scan. But that is ok … I’ll wait ’til the day warms to 70° (21°C) before attacking the yard work. I only have one large branch to fell on the pecan tree, and a few suckers to prune on the acacia. Then dump the pickup truck load of dried river cane from the Sukkah onto the burn pile and put the truck back into storage for winter.
Snooks is in the exercise room where the regular *thump**thump**thump*of her morning jaunt on the treadmill signifies that breakfast is about 40 minutes away. Snookums is a creature of habit, and you can set your watches by her daily routine. Coffee maker starts wheezing and gurgling at 6:30. Dogs are fed at 7:00. Play ball with the mutts until 8:00. Fill the birdbath and walk on the treadmill at 9:00. Brunch at 10:00. The world rotates around her routine. Heaven help the hapless soul who interferes with it. Men and dogs tremble at the thought.
So goes the days and the seasons. Everything happens at God’s appointed times, or moedim as they are called in Hebrew. Night follows day. Day follows night. The trash man comes on Wednesday. The postman comes at 11:00 AM, and UPS comes at 4:00 in the afternoon.
And I set in the studio watching it all parade by.
Good morning!
The Refiners Fire
Some mornings my muse fails me when I sit down to write. However, if I will just put down something, almost anything, the words will begin to flow from my fingertips, surprising me with the results. For some reason, Job’s lament, “What is man that You magnify him, and that You are concerned about him, that You examine him every morning and try him every moment?…” comes to me this dawn of weak trust. True rest will come for me on that day that I no longer need testing.
Sometimes what I do sucks …
Sometimes what I do sucks …
This was the hardest transport I have ever done. The woman’s pants legs in the photo is the owner of the dog, and she just brought it to me from quite a distance away, and I was going to take him even further to another transporter who would take him further. The kids were in the car crying, mama was crying and the dog had no idea that he was just about to be separated from his pack. Economic conditions had made it nearly impossible for her to keep him.
After half an hour of goodbyes, I led him to the crate in my car, put him in, and started the leg to the next transporter, and eventually to his new owner somewhere in Illinois. We had hardly pulled away when the dog suddenly realized something was wrong and let out a plaintive “yip”. The handoff with the other transporter went well, and I drove home in the darkness, sobered 
by the unfairness of it all.
Yet, unlike this photo just taken of stray chocolate lab from a rescuer in Houston, the dog I transported was safe, and on his way to a new loving family. I don’t know what the Labs fate was at this point, but he is just sleeping in the picture. I hope they get him. So many endangered pets. So little time and resources.
A Presidential proclamation I can live with …
The White House
Office of the Press Secretary
For Immediate Release
December 05, 2014
Presidential Proclamation — National Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day, 2014
NATIONAL PEARL HARBOR REMEMBRANCE DAY, 2014
– – – – – – –
BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
A PROCLAMATION
On the morning of December 7, 1941, Japanese planes thundered over Hawaii, dropping bombs in an unprovoked act of war against the United States. The attack claimed the lives of more than 2,400 Americans. It nearly destroyed our Pacific Fleet, but it could not shake our resolve. While battleships smoldered in the harbor, patriots from across our country enlisted in our Armed Forces, volunteering to take up the fight for freedom and security for which their brothers and sisters made the ultimate sacrifice. On National Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day, we pay tribute to the souls lost 73 years ago, we salute those who responded with strength and courage in service of our Nation, and we renew our dedication to the ideals for which they so valiantly fought.
In the face of great tragedy at Pearl Harbor — our first battle of the Second World War — our Union rallied together, driven by the resilient and unyielding American spirit that defines us. The millions of Americans who signed up and shipped out inspired our Nation and put us on the path to victory in the fight against injustice and oppression around the globe. As they stormed the beaches of Normandy and planted our flag in the sands of Iwo Jima, our brave service members rolled back the tide of tyranny in Europe and throughout the Pacific theater. Because of their actions, nations that once knew only the blinders of fear saw the dawn of liberty.
The men and women of the Greatest Generation went to war and braved hardships to make the world safer, freer, and more just. As we reflect on the lives lost at Pearl Harbor, we remember why America gave so much for the survival of liberty in the war that followed that infamous day. Today, with solemn gratitude, we recall the sacrifice of all who served during World War II, especially those who gave their last full measure of devotion and the families they left behind. As proud heirs to the freedom and progress secured by those who came before us, we pledge to uphold their legacy and honor their memory.
The Congress, by Public Law 103-308, as amended, has designated December 7 of each year as “National Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day.”
NOW, THEREFORE, I, BARACK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, do hereby proclaim December 7, 2014, as National Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day. I encourage all
Americans to observe this solemn day of remembrance and to honor our military, past and present, with appropriate ceremonies and activities. I urge all Federal agencies and interested organizations, groups, and individuals to fly the flag of the United States at half-staff this December 7 in honor of those American patriots who died as a result of their service at Pearl Harbor.
IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand this fifth day of December, in the year of our Lord two thousand fourteen, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirty-ninth.
BARACK OBAMA
To that which is beyond.
In dreams and runes, and the ancient script of Eber, the ketab
merubba, a pathway through the primordial thickets begins to reveal itself. At first the track shows faintly upon the verdant growth, but as it is worn by the passage of a thousand footprints, it becomes a highway to that which is beyond.
Anonymous my butt.
I am feeling a bit hung over from all the ugly news of the last five days. Yet as I look around my newly adopted home, we are light years away from ‘sophisticated’ demonstrations of Wal-Mart, Black Friday and Thanksgiving that the rest of the US experienced. I doubt anyone here owns a Guy Fawkes mask, nor like the rest of the easily lead protesters in the US, would they know or even care who Guy Fawkes was, unless they happened to be British ex-pats. However, it would not surprise me if even the Brits didn’t know the history either. I am still scratching my head over how Wal-Mart and Ferguson seem to be connected in the minds of this new crop of intellectual revolutionaries.
But I guess the mask must be cool on a stick. Another soulless generation has sprung up that believes it is so very deep. Perhaps there are some budding counter-culture musicians who will rise to undeserved prominence as they did in the 60’s. I am so out of touch (by choice, mind you) of trends today. Odd how this cycle of mindless protest and violence erupts every sixty or so years.
I keep trying to stay out of the debate, but it draws me in like a magnet. I want to be like the one neighbor here who used to have a giant illuminated plastic Santa near the gate to leading his ranch, beside it he had a hand lettered sign saying [PUT CHRIST BACK IN CHRISTMAS!], and another sign nailed on the gate post that said, [TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT!]. But ignorance of the human condition is not comforting to me. I do not find comfort with either side. On one side are the Jingoists, on the other the Globalists. Both views are malodorous exaggerations that get people killed by the millions.
Maybe this will be a week of quietness as the rioters have to return to their classrooms or labors. I can’t seem to tear myself away from the newsfeeds. I need to know, even if it is hugely slanted coverage by reporters so full of hubris that they consider themselves gods.
So on this cold and windy December day, inside where it is warm and the coffee is copious, I watch the world outside both my virtual window, and my glass window, and try to make sense out of a world gone mad.
Good morning!
Laid back missive …
Late Sunday morning finds me sated after a waffle and sausage breakfast. Sunday is my day to cheat on the diet. I don’t even take my blood sugar reading unless I am not feeling well. Still, I try to not be totally insane, and go light on the syrup. I am off of fruit juices entirely, unless you consider tomato juice a fruit juice.
It has warmed to 45° already, and the weatherman says it will get all the way up to 46°. Blast! I have a flat on the tractor, and my air-compressor quit. So I got a new one with a shiny red tank, and I haven’t been able to use it. Shiny new tools are an embarrassment, and I can hardly wait ’til it warms up to start wearing it out.
I took a short hiatus from the rescue/transport hobby. I sure do love the people who are on the front lines. One group spent a week trapping a frightened poodle from a freeway, and another group has spent days trying to capture a stray in an abandoned lot. They will get him too. They are a truly dedicated and tough breed. I’ll start gleaning the newsfeeds looking for opportunities to spirit dogs away to new owners and transporting rescues to safe havens next week.
I have started feeling much more alert and upbeat these last few weeks. I still fear the dreaded winter blues that seem to start around Thanksgiving and don’t end ’til February. I am hoping to skip them this year.
A new wave of fighting has broken out in many of my social sites. It seems to come and go in flushes. I am wondering if blogging encourages poor social skills, or if only people with poor social skills blog. Interesting question. Hopefully, I can sit on the sidelines and observe the dynamics rather than participating this year. But oh how I love a good fight!!
The news is .. well … trouble here, and trouble there, and trouble most everywhere. A writer today opined that this new distrust in government is because we are better informed than we were before. I think that may be true. J. Edgar Hoover’s snooping would have not fared well in todays climate, and JFK’s womanizing would have been censored. It is harder today for the ‘elites’ to hide behind privilege today.
But for the moment, the tummy is sated, the coffee pot has been emptied, and I lay back in very bad posture typing out this morning’s communiqué. Mavis Beacon, the typing tutor, would not approve. And I wouldn’t care. There is peace here if there isn’t anywhere else in the world.
A late good morning!
OK … one more copy/paste and I am done for awhile.
This election season has been particularly grueling. With so much on the line, Republicans had to earn each and every vote and Democrats, sensing the loss of the Senate, did similarly but, ultimately, came up short.
It’s natural to take a breather after all is done and the votes are counted. Many politicians and politician-elects take a moment to be with the family they have likely neglected for months. Some might go on vacation or even just relax at home for some much-needed R&R.
However, for one newly elected Senator, Iowa Republican Joni Ernst, it has back to the business of serving America in the most literal of ways.
For Lt. Col. Ernst, reporting for duty is how she spent the day following the election.
Ernst is a Lieutenant Colonel in the Iowa National Guard and commands the largest battalion in the Iowa Army National Guard, the 185th Combat Sustainment Support Battalion at Camp Dodge.
Ernst is the first woman elected to the Senate from Iowa, the first woman elected statewide in Iowa and the first female veteran elected to the Senate.
Lt. Col. Ernst is a 21-year veteran, having served in the Army Reserve and the Iowa National guard, and spent 14 months in Kuwait in 2003-2004 as a company commander during Operation Iraqi Freedom.
While women like Sandra Fluke posture and pretend that it is a “war on women” when Republicans insist that individuals, not taxpayers, purchase their own birth control, Ernst is one of many women serving this nation who understand what real war is, what real challenges are and what it means to truly take responsibility for oneself and others and lead by example.
Mz Muze returns …
I was minding my own business and reading the blogs when SFMystery had to bring up the subject of muses. I hadn’t talked to min in a good long while, and *pop!* … there she was, perched on my monitor, chubby legs crossed daintily at the knee. Normally, that would be charming, but MzMuze has never been to charm school. The only time I heard her laugh was when she put the idea of a story in my head where an elephant grabbed up a man and dashed the brains out of him on the cage bars.
She was still wearing her too tight tweed skirt, and a pink Rayon blouse, and a pair of scuffed mules completed the outfit. And she was scowling at me. But then, she always scowled at me.
“So there you are. I don’t think I’ve talked with you since Thanksgiving, last year.”
“You haven’t wanted me around.”
“Mmmm. Wonder why that is? It couldn’t be because you were overly charming.”
“You’re the one whom your buddies took up a collection to send you to charm school. As I recall, they four dollars and sixty cents. It wasn’t even enough for a round of drinks, and that was 1960 dollars!”
“I am sure that they were just being light hearted with me.”
She recrossed her legs, exposing what looked like white mushroom tops squeezing out of her hose, and tried a little flounce that didn’t quite work on top of the new LED monitor. The CRT finally died and I had to upgrade, but it was broad enough to hold that chubby butt.
“Hey, butthead. I can read you mind, remember?”
Quickly recovering, I shot back, “Garter belts went out five decades ago.”
“Hey, I’m your fantasy, heartthrob. Dress me anyway you like!” she sniffed.
“I need a muse, not a girlfriend.”
“You need a slave driver, King sloth.” She sneered.
“I just haven’t been in the mood.” I lamely retorted.
“You are never in the mood, from what I hear Snookums say.”
“Leave Snooks out of this!” I growled.
“Well, she’s the one who said it. She also said you spend entire days on the PC, and merely write drivel.”
“Yeah. I just can’t seem finish anything.” I answered dejectedly.
“That King Wendell piece showed some promise.” She said brightly.
“Yeah. But it turned out to be another epic. I just want to crank out thousand word essays. But there is only so many ways you can describe morning coffee.”
“Why not start a less ambitious project?”
“I tried short stories, but where do you market short stories these days?”
“Yeah. That is a rather archaic form. What about a formula novel? It might be an interesting write, and possibly one that you could complete.”
“You mean ‘boy meets girl’ ‘boy does something stupid and loses girl’ ‘boy rescues girl’ ‘they have passionate sex and live happily ever after’?”
“Yeah. Something like that. It is too late for you to write a new “The Sun Also Rises”. Hairy chested beer guzzling authors are out now anyway.
Well, do something besides lay around licking your ….”
“Hey!” I warned her.
“Well, it’s true, and you know it!” She said, gloating. She knew when she scored.
“I am sort of blogging again.” I whined.
“Yeah. I can tell. You almost write in complete sentences now.”
“It is called writing dialogue.” I corrected.
“It is called crappy grammar. But I barely concede that it is better than no grammar at all.” She said, waving me off.
“I’ll try to put something out after the Shabbat meal. Interested?”
“I am always interested, lover …”
Shamelessly boosted …
I don’t like copy/pasting … but this is one of the iconic photos of my youth. Pubescent young boys salivated over them bosoms on two continents. I shamelessly boosted the copy from ABC News
~geo
She’s got the look.
Fifty-seven years after Sophia Loren was captured glaring at Jayne Mansfield during a glitzy night out, the Italian actress has finally explained what was actually happening in the iconic snapshot.
“Paramount had organized a party for me. All of cinema was there, it was incredible. And then comes in Jayne Mansfield, the last one to come. For me, that was when it got amazing,” Loren, 80, told Entertainment Weekly from her home in Switzerland.
“[Mansfield] came right for my table. She knew everyone was watching. She sat down. And now, she was barely … Listen. Look at the picture. Where are my eyes? I’m staring at her nipples because I am afraid they are about to come onto my plate. In my face you can see the fear. I’m so frightened that everything in her dress is going to blow — BOOM! — and spill all over the table.”
While there may be other photographs from that moment, “This is the one that shows how it was,” Loren said.
But despite the image’s popularity, Loren’s side-eye is something she won’t celebrate.
“Many, many times I am given this photo to autograph it. And I never do. I don’t want to have anything to do with that. And also out of respect for Jayne Mansfield because she’s not with us anymore,” she said.
Rusty's Armory 