I still cringe when my AARP magazine arrives. I think they should put it in a plain brown envelope. One day I found I had left it in the bathroom where I’d last been reading it during a few moments of leisure and suddenly flashed back to my mom’s bathroom when she used to keep her’s there. I’m always surprised when trauma like that doesn’t kill me.
I finally got that disposable camera film developed and here are pictures of the newest additions to my family. I did my best to wipe out the glowing yellow eyes that came with the pictures so if their eyes look a little odd, it’s my fault. They really aren’t devil dogs...though on a good day, Blue can act as though she’s trying out for the part.
The photos pictured show:
1. Blondie doing what Blondie does best...lying on her back waiting for someone, anyone, to walk by and scratch her stomach.
2. Blondie, having given up on a belly rub, relaxing on the downstairs bed.
3. Blue patiently waiting for any crumb of food that might fall from my desk area.
4. Blue and Blondie expecting that at any moment I will stop being lazy and get up and give them a walk.
I foolishly thought if I left my grill out for the winter I’d be able to get to it to do some cooking. I don’t think so anymore.
Since my two new dogs shed like there will be no tomorrow, dog hair is becoming a problem. So, I went to Value Village today to buy some king sheets for my downstairs futon, my upstairs couch and the car. As I checked out, the lady smiled at me and asked me if I was sixty. I swallowed my urge to run screaming from the store and said yes. She told me it was Senior Day and I got a discount on everything I bought. So those $2.99 sheets only cost me $2.40 cents each.
So now I have a reason to be glad I’m sixty. I get discounts at Value Village. Try not to be too jealous.
A priest fathers three children in Alaska but the Jesuits claim he is not responsible for child support because he took a vow of poverty. Funny. That vow of chasity didn’t seem to be a stumbling block for him. Best of all, the Jesuits to whom he supposedly gave all his money also claim they are not responsble for child support. Yep. That’s exactly what I think Jesus would say. Screw the little children. Yep. Sounds just like him.
It was cold here and it snowed. Then it got warm and things melted. Then it got cold again and everything froze up. That frozen stuff is called ice. When it’s on the road, you can’t stop quickly unless you use the bumper of the car in front of you as a brake. Try and remember this as you speed down the street while on the phone, drinking coffeee and, for all I know, having sex in the front seat. Because I swear to god the first one who actually hits my bumper as opposed to skidding crazily behind me while stomping on their brakes will be buying me a new and very expensive car.
The news coming out of Fairbanks concerning misspent federal grant money got me thinking about my days writing grants for the North Slope Borough Health Department back in the seventies. I was new to the business of grants and had to learn on the job what did or didn’t impress the feds. I also had to understand that their learning curve about Alaska was nothing short of mind-boggling in its slow, painful progress.
I may not know much about policy and war and such but it does seem to me that it’s hard to win a war when the enemy is not fighting us but each other. If the Iraqis had gotten involved in our civil war, they couldn’t win because we weren’t fighting them. And we sure in hell weren’t going to listen to anyone who tried to negotiate a peace. North and South each wanted victory to support their world view and would take nothing less. That’s why we ended up in the war in the first place. So why do we think we can have victory in Iraq when the people there are fighting each other and our soldiers are just bodies getting in the way of their killing each other?
Real friends show up at a charity auction dressed in strange bird outfits and work their butts off all night to help make money for a cause they know is important to you. Real friends spend hours making a quilt to be auctioned off at the affair because they know it’s important to you. And real friends drag their kids to the event to be free labor for the evening because everything we get for free leaves that much more for the birds. Thank you Carol and Barbara, Kate and Elaine and Page and Lelani and Nick.
For anyone who wonders why I love my birds, let me tell you this story.
I put Abdul, my African Gray Parrot, on my counter while I cut up a pineapple. I took the top of the pineapple and put it on the counter where she was in case she wanted to chew on it or shred it or destroy it in some other creative way. Parrots love destroying things and this seemed like a good idea. But that pineapple top was new to her and strange and scary. In the wild, parrots are a prey animal and so they tend to be very cautious around the unknown. You never know when something might suddenly jump up and eat you.
I turned my back on her as I continued cutting the pineapple up. A few minutes went by and then she started whistling a very non-chalant, “I’m-not-worried-you-can’t-scare-me” whistle. I turned and watched her saunter carefully around the pineapple top, all the while whistling and pretending that she wasn’t really noticing it was there. With each new whistle, she took another step towards the top. Then she’d back up and then she’d go forward again. She continued this till she was actually up to the pineapple top and could bite it.
And then, alas, her courage failed her and she came running over to me telling me she loved me over and over again.
And people wonder why I have parrots. Could there be a better life than mine with Abdul and all the rest of the flock? I think not.
Seriously, we actually paid someone to come up with the slogan “Big Wild Life” for Anchorage. Bring back the dancing moose!
When my mother was alive and spoke about my birth, the one thing she remembered above all else was the snow storm that raged that day and how my poor dad had to crawl to the hospital with the car. Maybe that’s why I moved to Alaska. Snow is in my blood.
I opened the Lifestyles section of our local paper yesterday only to find a full page spread on how Nancy Pelosi is bringing pearls back into fashion. Why is it that I can’t remember one full page fashion spread on Dennis Hastert or any other male House Speaker in all my many decades of life? Why did what she wore while sitting behind Bush when he made his State of the Union address to Congress get prominent mention but no one bothered to comment on what Dick Cheney was wearing? We’ll never really be equal, will we, until the media stops focusing on what we wear and focuses on what we say. No one is judging Barack Obamba by his hairstyle or clothing choices. So why do I hear jokes about HIllary Clinton’s pantsuits all the time? Is it just society’s subtle way of making sure we know our place even if we do manage to get some power?