House boat trip

If you ever went to sleep away camp do you remember how it was when you got back home? Everything was bigger than you remembered and you kept on singing "It's a Grand Old Flag"? You couldn't stop thinking about how great camp was? That was exactly how it was about our houseboat trip up the Suwanee River in perfect weather, not a cloud in the sky, the stars at night so thick, fish jumping and no sign of human habitation as far as the eye could see. There were six of us, all good friends, but never had we been in such close company for four days and nights. We naturally fell into the roles of ship's captain, cooks, scientists, springs swimmers, scullery helpers.

 All of us were loungers and close observers of the incredible passing scene of pristine cypress, birds and jumping sturgeon.

No one ever voiced it, but somehow we all seemed to breathe a sigh and stop talking about politics and issues. The last crossword puzzle from the NYT was done before the first dinner, and then we had NO MORE NEWS for four days! None of us noticed.

What we noticed was such stuff as a huge migration of the tiniest insects you could imagine, all flying in an incandescent cloud from the river one misty morning. It could have been a once in a year thing like grunions running. But we wouldn't have noticed it in our regular lives. We examined every blooming flower, every huge alligator, every turtle and snake.

And we noticed each other in ways one never does at a dinner party. All of us were in long term marriages and we all have grown kids. But we did not talk much about our children or grandchildren or health.  It was truly a time for us. We cared for each other with cooking great meals, taking care of this funky houseboat, laughing a lot, and remembering people and places and events. We put together an enormous puzzle, and we even played games. We looked at each other really closely and celebrated our wrinkles and fit muscles. And our friendship.

Kind of depressing to return, making the drive from the boat dock, listening to NPR and the same old stuff.

About time!

Here's an opossum I trapped yesterday in the vegetable garden. We'll take him out to the far side of the ranch where he can be with the dozens of others we relocated.

That expression! He's probably thinking  about Hughesnet, our internet provider. Finally, today, an angel came and brought us a new FAST connection and so I am happy tonight. I have called the phone company each week for years, asking them when we could expect a fast DSL connection. "Not tonight, honey." And last week they informed me that yes! we could do it. I really had no hope and today of the appointment the truck arrived on time, and my hopes sprang anew. But wait! Emerging from the truck is an old guy, hardly an angel, pony tail, beard, suspenders across a paunch, slouched under a straw hat. Not your usual computer geek to say the least. My heart sinks.

But, like Santa, he went right to his work, and soon the main house was on line. I was discouraged to find that the DSL did not work in my studio. We needed another line. I took ten deep breaths and called Bill, the computer person. Later, my husband thought of a solution and when I had found a very long telephone cable, he installed it and now everything works in my studio and in the main house.

If you live in the boonies as we do, it is important to have connections to the world. At first we just had dial-up, not much. Then we got the satellite, the best that rural folks can get. It was often so slow, and no chance of downloading anything.

So, now! Off and running, looking at all that stuff that was previously unavailable. I have always said that no connectivity was just the flipside of living in paradise. Dare I think that we can have it all?

The garden appreciated a little rain before the cold front moved in. Broccoli is heading and the greens are there for every meal. I cut some collard leaves for the soup I'll take on our upcoming house boat trip up the Suwanee River on Saturday.

Strength and love to all the occupiers! And today we got autumn. Quilts tonight!

The Demonstrations!

In the last couple of years I have asked any young people who come my way if they are interested in the politics of this nation. I was pretty much disheartened that so many of them seemed passive and uninterested. What they are interested in is celebrities and their own studies. They have told me that, yes, there are few people on their campuses and at work who join groups and advocate for various discreet causes. In individual ways many of them strive to make a difference. They volunteer in difficult places with difficult populations. They work hard in wonderful non-profits as unpaid interns.

I wonder whether these talented and thoughtful young people feel powerless, or feel they have no voice, or even whether this generation of almost-my-grandchildren has been too entitled for too long and believe that somehow everything will come out just fine. What would it take to make them stand up on their hind legs in their own country to make a difference here?

Maybe, just maybe, something has finally happened. Perhaps the tipping point came when so many realized that they had such huge loan burdens and no prospects of making enough to pay them off - or even getting a decent job. And Mom and Dad have lost their jobs.  They look up and see that a few make millions, neither fair nor ethical. It's the economy, of course. There was the model of the Arab Spring. Heady stuff to be in the middle of a huge demonstration with even something worth fighting for. The American Dream.

These demonstrations sweep the country. Many of the demonstrators are not young, not scruffy, just desperate, all colors, all ages.  It's hard to discern exactly what the demands are, and so far no real leaders have emerged as they did in the seventies. Early times. As far as I know there are not huge corporate funds supporting this, as they did the tea party.

I wish them well, I salute their strength, I respect them and I pay close attention. I agree with them and share their dissatisfaction.

We so badly need to have all parts of our population pay attention. These demonstrators fill a political void. After all, it matters what happens! We can't be just a nation of elderly folks wanting to preserve their social security and medicare (though that's important.)  And we can't be stuck endlessly dithering about outworn social issues such as gay marriage and abstinence and flag desecration. We need to pay careful attention to the new cohort of young people who have a huge new agenda and have long since leaped ahead of their parents' generation.

 

Drones

Remember those slumber parties in middle school when you thought of people you could instantly vaporize, no questions asked, no blame assigned?  Just, pouf! They would be gone and that boy who hit on you or the girl who was so popular and beautiful, a thing of envy would be gone from your lives. But we knew it wouldn't really happen and we'd have to deal with these people and so many others in the stretch of our lives. As adults, we came to realize that those persons we might want to vaporize needed to have attention paid.

Drones. These planes (of death) are sent to the Middle East and North Africa by the CIA in a midwestern state by strokes on a computer keyboard. At first, it seems that this is a really good way to run a war: no one is killed except the enemy. Sometimes there is a mistake and a whole village is wiped out, or a whole group of innocent folks who happen to be where the drone strike is happening. The folks at the bunker from where the CIA sends out their minions have no idea of the human fallout. After their day they go home to a MacDonald's take out supper, put the kids to bed and watch the ball game on T.V.

I believe that if war is the thing to do,  real people must be responsible for the damage. Real people must actually kill and maim (if that is the goal). Real people must be there to actually shoot and hurt other humans. Isn't this the definition of war?

We have been ten years into the Afghanistan war. Most Americans have not had to participate at all. Some folks put bumper stickers on their cars and no one has to face the Draft. We pretty much ignore the returning vets who need so much.

And now we have the drones, the ultimate 'zipless fuck'. We have war fatigue - and none of us were even there!

We should get out of Afghanistan, and we will. In quiter moments we may realize the futility of it all. War is no good. Especially when the fighting is anonymous.

Finally, Fall!

No chance of uploading a photo tonight. (Bad internet!!) Just imagine those great mutant giant orange cosmos, more than six feet tall, blooming! They rise above the Mexican petunias and the fuscia vinca below them. What a marvel.

The vegetables are a mixed bag so far. Lettuce and greens are doing well and now produce wonderful salads every night, but something eats the swiss chard each night. Many fire ants infest the garden so I suck it up and actually apply some poison to the hills. It doesn't seem to discourage them much. They just move on to the next garden box. The castor oil pellets seem to have discouraged the armadillos, and we have trapped a whole bunch of them. Armadillos, not pellets. Deer eat the roses every night.

Mornings, I walk around the yard to check out everything, look at the traps, think about what needs to be watered or fertilized, pick out some weeds, see if the oranges are anywhere near ready. When I look up and regard the woods line I see deer and turkeys. Red shouldered hawks cry and there is always the loud trumpeting of the sand hill cranes coming in and the hooting of the owls just finishing their business. The summer birds have left, except for the chimney swifts who will leave soon. So we now hear those loud calls of the big birds, especially the woodpeckers, jays and cardinals who will be here all winter. There are so many squirrels, those cute and busy rodents working the property (and the vegetable garden!)

There is indeed a great deal of physical work to be done here. We mow, weed, water, prune and tend. And not think about what is happening to our larger venue.

Just this week each of us paid $100 to get our teeth cleaned and we do this twice a year. I wonder what reality it is that Monano,  Pinellas County commissioner, could have said, as he voted against fluoridation (!), that anyone could just go to the dentist and get a cleaning, eat well, take care of dental health.. No need for fluoride and big government intervention. What planet is he on?

Such an embarrassment!

I am glad not to live in Alabama, a low hurdle. We are very interested in the 99% demonstations happening everywhere. What does it all mean?

Warning: This about Pets

Here is Lola, our best girl, in her favored spot on the porch couch. You can see that she has one blue eye, the dangerous one, that since she was a puppy, alerted us to her demands (many!). From her perch on the couch she can see out into the yard and monitor the comings and goings of armadillos, her first choice of critters to chase. When she spots one, or even the possibility of one, she is instantly off the couch and barking at the screen door. She has never caught one because they are armored with hard scales and way bigger than she is.

Lola is such a social animal; she prefers people to other dogs she mostly ignores. I am amazed at her memory of people she loves. All during the long summer when our house was closed up and air conditioned Lola fell into our routines. But today, the first day of cool weather after six long months, when we opened up the house she remembered that it would be good to go out on the front porch and lie in the sun. She remembers these routines. She is happiest when she can sit beside Andy when he reads the morning paper, or after lunch when she accompanies me on the couch to read the New York Times or in the evening when she knows one of us will boost her into our high bed so she can worm her way under the covers and await our warm bodies for the night.

I know the names of hundreds of my friends' dogs. Maggie, Pepper, Daisy, Breezy, Zoe, Bailey, Rebel, Phoebe -all friends of mine. No one ever would ask in a job interview or in a doctor's office about our pets. But they are key to our lives.

My sister has a dog who came to her as a puppy and it turned out that this dog was extremely difficult. But they kept on with this dog who did such things as eat the refrigerator. I wondered how in the world they could keep on with this creature. But, now, when I visit, Daisy just seems to be kind of a loopy personality, friendly, and watch your possessions.

An old friend from my childhood has the perfect dog, Velvet, a black lab, smart, perfectly trained and a joy to be with. My sister in law has a large curly Portugese water dog, Breezy, who is truly friendly and outgoing. I love having this large soft wonderful dog sit on my lap!

A daughter of one of my good friends has no kids but she has that old basset hound and she has to consider him as she contemplates a move.

Having dogs makes us human, I think. We laugh at their antics. They endure beyond our own kids. They are tactile and loving. All that good stuff. Dogs keep us fit because they always need a walk. They keep us responsible because they always need to be fed and watered. Sixty percent of us sleep with our dogs! We carefully tend to our puppy training and in their old age we lift them up onto the couch and give them soft food. We ignore their smelly farts. We incorporate the names of our dogs into our passwords.

Most of all our dogs present in our lives a sense of humor. In their own ways, all of our dogs are certainly funny. We dress them up in Halloween costumes (that they try to take off) and we give them ridiculous toys that squeak and quack.

We think of getting a back up dog. (Lola is a 'young' thirteen). Should we get another weiner dog?