The dead zone in front of my house seems to be supporting some ferns and a bleeding heart. So walk softly when you come to visit. The least vibration and the ground there may notice something is growing and kill it again. And don’t worry about that little aborted dead tree that’s there. I’m leaving it to fool the ground into thinking it won.
Why I’m on the train till the last stop
So in the end, history this year will be written by an African-American, not a woman. For a lot of women, not just Hillary Clinton, this is a huge disappointment. For those of us of a certain age, Hillary seemed to represent the only chance to see a female president in our lifetime.
There is a reason why this is such an issue for some women, a reason we tend to forget until we watch one of the Doris Day/Rock Hudson movies in which she prances around in pearls and high heels making him dinner while he laughs at the
We have finally gone too far
As I stood in my kitchen preparing dinner and listening to the umpteenth million rerun of CSI, a commercial for male enhancement drugs came on. I’ve somewhat gotten used to that with dinner. But this had a special offer. If you called now, you could get two free tubes of a special male enhancement pleasure cream absolutely free. And while I agree that it was silly in the early days of TV that Rob and Laura couldn’t push their beds together, I can’t help but think we have perhaps moved just a tad too far the other way. Shouldn’t we
Has Zyrtec not heard about pollution?
I went to pick up some Zyrtec and found that one option was to buy a pack in which each individual pill was packed inside it’s own totally separate piece of plastic and cardboard, lined up one behind the other, all inside another pack of plastic and cardboard. Have these idiots not heard about pollution? Why the hell would you need each pill packaged separately? Not only would I be ready to put a gun to my head trying to get the damn pill out each time I needed one, but I would be horrified at how much waste I
It was now or never
I finally made the hard decision that this is as good as summer is going to get in Anchorage and I should no longer wait for sunshine and warmth before planting flowers in the planters on my porch. So in total defiance of the gods of weather who have absolutely crapped on Anchorage this summer, I planted flowers. I fully expect a blizzard anytime this week to punish me for my chutzpah.
What’s wrong with this picture?
It’s June 12. I am walking my dogs. Coming down the street towards me is a woman taking a walk. She is wearing fur ear muffs. What is wrong with this picture? And where the hell is our summer?
Speaking of birds
On Tuesday I got nailed by an osprey. What a wild looking bird. Never had one before at Bird TLC. We were trying to tube feed it and one of the feet got loose and it sunk its talons into my right forefinger. Damn they’re fast! Then came the joy of trying to pull the talons out without doing further damage. It’s a good thing I love birds.
It’s the bird lovers
It’s bird lovers who will keep newspaper alive and well. Because without them, what the hell will we line all our birdcages with? During election years, I take particular pleasure in making sure that the politician or candidate who I find most annoying has their face directly under my bird.
A nation of haves and have-nots
My friend Earl Finkler had a letter to the editor in the paper last week in which he quoted Robert F. Kennedy as saying, “An America piled high with gold, and clothed in impenetrable armor, yet living among desperate and poor nations in a chaotic world, could neither guarantee its own security nor pursue the dream of civilization devoted to the fulfillment of man.” I wonder how Robert Kennedy would feel if he were alive today and realized that America was both the country piled high with gold and the desperate, poor, chaotic nation at one and the same time?
Happy Early Birthday
Happy Birthday, Greta, even though it’s a day early. I wish I had a picture to put up of you but I don’t have anything on my computer. So I’ll just have to remember that little girl with the impossibly tight ponytail and the ironed jeans who used to drag a silly white horse with a pink mane around my house for hours at a time. I miss that little girl but I wouldn’t give up the young lady she became to have her back. I’m enjoying your adult friendship much too much…even if you only ever call when you