Own Him

I do not understand why liberal women like Pelosi are so upset about Wiener's behavior. They embraced it when they embraced the contraceptive/abortion mentality - a mentality that reduces women to objects. They celebrated it when they elevated Sandra Fluke to sainthood, and when they cheered Obamacare's use of government jackboots to force their beliefs on those who have religious objections. They danced with joy over it at the Democrat convention, worshiping at the feet at men who raised that behavior to an art form.

Liberals keep saying some version of "Everybody has their own truth." They demand choice. Well, all this is just Wiener's (Filner's, Spitzer's) truth, Wiener's (Filner's, Spitzer's) choice, and they can't have it both ways. Either there is an absolute moral standard that comes from outside of ourselves, or there is not. You can't demand a right to make your own definition of right and wrong but deny someone else the same right. You can't embrace something that benefits the predatory male more than any other group and then whine when a predatory male appears in your midst. This is your guy, liberal women - own him.

Liberal women howling about Wiener are just like the woman who runs around with a married man and then gets upset when he runs around on HER. 

Awesome!

From the Washington Examiner:

Rep. Jaime Herrera Beutler announced Monday that she has given birth to a daughter, despite an earlier diagnosis that the baby was suffering from a normally fatal ailment.

Herrera Beutler, a pro-life Republican from Washington state, said earlier this year that her unborn child was suffering from Potter's Syndrome, a condition involving the improper development of the kidneys during pregnancy. One of the options Herrera Beutler had was to abort the fetus, but she refused.

Baby "Abigail is considered by her doctors to likely be the first baby to survive a diagnosis previously considered fatal," the congresswoman's office said in a statement.

The child is currently stable, but required immediate dialysis due to a lack of functioning kidneys.

Herrera Beutler was aided by a team of specialized physicians at The John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore and delivered the baby girl on July 15 at Emanuel Legacy Hospital in Portland, Ore.

"The options we were offered were termination or 'expectant management,' that is, waiting for [the baby] to die. Instead, we chose to pray earnestly for a miracle," the congresswoman and her husband said in a statement. "She is every bit a miracle."

On June 3, the Herrera Beutler announced on her Facebook page that "at a recent, routine ultrasound appointment we received the difficult news that our baby has a serious medical condition. ... We don't know what the future holds for our family."

The congresswoman herself "is doing well, caring for her precious little daughter and recovering," the family said in their statement.

Bravo, Ms. Beutler!  You gave Abigal a chance to make her own CHOICE!  Too bad so many would have supported denying her that opportunity.

And how many other children have been killed based on just this sort of maybe?

h/t Weasel Zippers

Sunday Stroll

Friday was free money day. I finally got to cash in my $100 REI gift card, using it to replace the hiking boots I’ve had for more than 12 years – I was thinking maybe the old boots were contributing to the beat up and footsore issue. Couldn’t get boots – they didn’t have any in my size and price range. So I got a pair of hiking shoes instead, and the reading I’ve done since says that the higher ankle on boots really doesn’t contribute to supporting the ankles anyway.  I’m a happy camper - less weight on the feet is less weight dragged down the trail.

My original plan was to head down to Sky Meadows State Park to challenge myself with some elevation variation. Then I saw that gas has jumped to $3.89 a gal and that intermittent thunder storms were predicted. Yeah, that’s what I want – spend a bunch of money on gas and climb up into an open meadow on a mountaintop during a thunderstorm. Um…not so much. But turned out the thunderstorms were just showers and there was a lull in them Sunday morning, so I dashed out the door and grabbed some time on the AT. Not much in the way of a challenge elevation-wise, but it'll do.

It was gray and occasionally showery, so not much good for views:

 

But the rain and warmth has brought green, green green:

And it's brought some fast-sprouting and interesting plants.

A bright fungus of some kind:

A patch of  Indian Pipestem:

The new shoes did well, and my feet were definitely in much better shape at the end than they have been.  A brisk 6.5 miles in and out of showers and then it was back to my garden to putter in the sun that emerged by early afternoon.

Admit It

Emily Miller's new book Emily Gets Her Gun:... But Obama Wants to Take Yours will be out on Sept. 2.  Admit it - the guys reading this will buy it just for the cover:

I'm Floored

Sorry.  Couldn't resist.  The worst of my latest indoor projects is more or less done.  I mentioned here that I had a worn out carpet + cat pee problem in one of the spare bedrooms.  Don't have the $$$ to deal with it right now.  So, 3 coats of Sherwin-Williams shellac primer:

And 2 coats of floor paint:

And I have a room again.  One without the cat pee smell.  I can't stand the idea of being the house that smells like THAT.

The baseboard needs repainted, too, but I ran out of painting steam.  I'll do that this winter when I don't have so many outside jobs that need to be done.  And I put the edging strip too far forward.  Oh well.  Learn by doing.  And re-doing.

Hopefully, I'll find a couple rugs while out and about this weekend and the room will then be decent for company.

I've Missed You, Darlin'

Sunday was good, good, good.  I've discovered that in order to make sure I keep the Sabbath, I have to get away from the house.  Otherwise I will putter and pick, and work, and take care of that chore and this chore and then the day is all gone and it will have been just as busy with work and chores as any other day.

So yesterday was time spent peddling on the C&O Canal towpath, 20 miles worth.  Nice enough day, although intermittently cloudy.  Each time I go out and do something exercise-y it gets a little easier, which is a good sign, although my recovery rate is still slow - I'm still a bit tiredish today.  Of course, some of that may be the fact that I'm doing vigorous things in summer heat.

And after an extended period of hot and sweaty, it was time for a bit of this:

In this:

Yeah, it was nice.  The rains have kept the water refreshingly cool.

I need to go to the 8 am Mass on Sundays, instead of exhausting myself and then going to the 6 pm one.  Because by the time I get a shower and head out to Mass I'm sort of like this:

But the best part is that today was only a semi-Monday.  'Cause my great love and I got to go out together this morning.  First time since the first part of February - I was afraid I would have forgotten how to act around her after so long.

It was off to the range with Murphy's Law, who brought my baby's big brother along.  The range was pretty busy when we got there - looked like a pistol class maybe - so we set up on the 400 yd (m?) range, with targets set at 200 yd (m?)  as well.  There's a steel plate on the 400 line as well.  Yeah...no scope.  Can't even see the thing from the firing line.

I was happy.  I was afraid that after so long I wouldn't be able to hit the broad side of a barn, but the 200  results were not so bad:

Actually hit the target on the 400 line a few times, too, and from the pattern I now know that I need to bring the sight down a bit - I was hitting high and shooting over.

Then some pistol work, with satisfying results.  I'm  a happy camper this evening.  I'd have been happier if I hadn't had to go back to work, but, oh well.  It was still a good couple days.

A Stern Warning

That's what's being given to a certain segment of Chicago. By the police.

Working from a list of people deemed most likely to become shooters or victims, a Chicago Police commander is expected to start knocking on their doors Friday and deliver letters warning them not to commit any violent crimes. Working from a list of people deemed most likely to become shooters or victims, a Chicago Police commander is expected to start knocking on their doors Friday and deliver letters warning them not to commit any violent crimes.

Hallelujah!  The crime rate in Chicago is finally going to start down!  Because THEY'VE BEEN WARNED!

File this under "You can't make this stuff up."

Full story here.

h/t Weasel Zippers

Pat Mahaney Has Died

An Ohio man by the name of Pat Mahaney has died.  Why is this significant, you ask?  Well, he died less than a year after being brutally beaten by 6 black teens last year.  Knocked unconscious with the first attack, Mahaney received severe internal injuries as the teens continued their assault on the helpless man, kicking and stomping him as lay helpless. Their reason for the beating?  They were bored.

I'm sure Eric Holder and Al Sharpton will speak right out about this horrifying act of racial violence.

Read more here, here, here.

h/t www.wcbm.com

Hoo Boy - Updated

Did I mention it's hot and humid?

About 100,000 Prince Georges County, MD, residents just got word (as in just last night) that due to a failing water main their water will be shut off tonight.  And be off for days. 

That's gonna be right unpleasant.

Update -  Seems that that main can be replaced without turning off everybody's water with only 24 hours notice after all.  Makes me wonder if WSSC didn't get taken to the woodshed.  Also makes me wonder how stupid you have to be to order this done the first way in the middle of a heat wave when the alternative obviously existed.

Sabbath Rest

My version of it, anyway.   Which tends to be rather more exhausting than a lot of other folk's definition of "rest."

It's a gazillion degrees and humid, which of course means it's time to hike on the Appalachian Trail.  In jeans, because it's poison ivy season.  (Note to self - that stretch of trail is well maintained.  Shorts next time.)  I ran late but finally got up to the Keyes Gap parking lot.  Older fellow in lot with stuff torn out of his car.  Huh.  Awareness ping.  Sense of discomfort and the thought "This is why I carry when I'm up here."

Yeah, it's hot and humid.  One of my favorite John Stewart songs starts "She was never a summer child."  I, on the other hand, am.  This is my season, a season of sun-burned shoulders and sweat stung eyes.  Of biking and hiking and, now, whenever possible, the rivers.  Of days of activity ended in a somnolent haze on the front porch as the heat stunned life around waits for the sun to begin to set and something vaguely resembling coolness to return.

It was a lovely day on the trail.  So much rain - and so much bountiful green, so many beautiful fungi because of it.  I took pictures to share - ferns, flowers, a toad, sun dapple in a glade.  My phone saved exactly one.  Which I can't seem to get to.  Sigh.  I was using a new app called Map My Ride.  The phone battery will last 3 hours running it - just enough to confirm 6 miles and then a low battery warning beep.  Plenty of other people out, so pauses and chats.  A beagle who really, really, REALLY wanted to share my snack bar despite getting scolded by his owner for bad manners. And one couple I passed on the trail asked if I had noticed the guy in the parking lot - he had behaved oddly, they thought.  Hmm.

I'm still way too heavy and way too out of shape - working on it but it'll take time.  I have to watch myself in the heat, too, because I'll push too far and then realize I'm feeling the warning signs of incipient heat exhaustion and it's time to sit down for a while.  And not in that lovely sunny spot, either.  In the shade.  It was a stumbly trip back at times because I asked a lot of my legs all at once, and I forgot my walking stick.  And there's that blister that came up on the ball of my right foot. (Second note to self - find that little thing of talcum powder before doing that again.)  But even if I'm still tired tomorrow I can do lighter work.  Like mowing the lawn.  All that rain.  All that warmth.  The lawn really needs mowing.

I crossed into the parking lot - it was full of vehicles.  But, other than me, there's just the sketchy guy and one other, younger woman, who was just coming off the trail from the other direction.  I rolled down the windows.  As I backed up the guy walked up to her and asked for a battery jump.

And as I'm turning and heading for home my mind was processing:  Guy has been there for hours.  All sorts of other hikers out here - lots of other cars in the lot since I left.  Lots of other options for jumps, mostly men and couples.  I had met them coming south as I was heading back north. And two women come into the parking lot at the same time, one openly carrying and the other not and he asks for a jump from the one not carrying as the other leaves.  Robot from "Lost in Space" started yelling "Danger! Danger! Danger!"  I pulled  off, called the police, then headed back to put another person in the lot.  Only to see him in his car, which was running, pulled to the side.  And the lot full of young men, backpackers, just coming off the trail, the other woman gone.

Maybe he's just odd.  Maybe I'm just paranoid.  But my instincts were screaming "WRONG!" louder than I've ever experienced, and I hope a deputy passed through in time to make it clear to the guy that somebody noticed him.

Face Palm

So, I have cats.  Unfortunately, even a neutered cat can get all bent out of shape and territorial when there are other cats in the neighborhood.  Which there are.  And even more unfortunately I have one who makes his opinion known by pooping and peeing in inappropriate places.  That would be the spare bedroom where he sits and watches the other cats. 

My upstairs flooring desperately needs replaced.  But I don't have $6000 in my back pocket right now and I don't want to take a loan for it.  Soooo...current project involves ripping the carpet and padding out of the spare bedroom because a) it smells, b) the risk of mold developing under wet places, and c) once a carpet is scent marked they'll keep going back to it.  And in lieu of carpeting and until I can afford the new flooring I'm sealing and painting the exposed flooring (thank you DIY websites!) and then mostly concealing it with the furniture and some area rugs.  It'll be a bit rough because it's fiberboard but it's a low traffic room and most of the floor will be hidden anyway. 

Rough as it is, I still puttied the worst of the seams and nail holes and I wanted to smooth the worst of it out a little so today was sanding day.  And after about 2 hours of crawling on the floor with a sanding block it suddenly occured to me:  I have one of these:

Sigh.  It went much faster afterwards.

Just Curious

Even though I'm not watching/listening to the Zimmerman trial I can't avoid it - it's sort of permeating the atmosphere right now, for several reasons.  One attitude in particular makes me curious.  Some are saying that even though it appears that Zimmerman was on the bottom and getting pummeled, he should not have drawn and fired, that the situation didn't rise to fear for his life.  How do you draw that line?  You are laying on the ground getting pounded - are you thinking "Well, he won't kill me. He'll just beat me up and it'll be OK"?  Are you having an internal philosophical debate on possibilities and options?  Personally, I don't think I'm capable of that.  Granted, I've never been beaten up, but I'm willing to bet that there's some shock from the pain and surprise.  And some narrowed focus - "Stop stop stop!"  And not a little fear.  At which point you take an action to make it all stop.  In Zimmerman's case it was to fire.  What if he hadn't had a gun?  What if instead he had the physical ability to turn the tables and slam Martin's head on the sidewalk and Martin died from that?  What if he managed to strike him just so, killing him? Would he have been required to have the internal "Is it appropriate to use deadly force?" debate?

And was Martin thinking "I'm just going to pound him some. I'll stop in a bit."?  If people think so, which to me seems to be a corollary of Zimmerman knowing his life wasn't threatened, how do they know?  If there was a mind reader present, I'm pretty sure they never got put on the stand.

And another thing I'm curious about.  How the heck have we gotten to the point where we no longer have to worry about race riots being instigated by these guys:

But we DO have to worry about race riots instigated by these guys:

And how the heck can ANYONE think that this situation is what these guys dreamed of:

Just curious.

Relief, and a Shock

Well, the prep is a misery.  The procedures are a breeze.  And for a while I felt better than I had when I went in because I at last got some sleep, even if it was chemically induced.  Now I'm tired, with a sore throat and a bit of a painful stomach.

The relief is that all that was found was inflammation in my stomach - we'll know in a couple days if it's bacterial.  A bacterial infection was actually one of the things high on the list to match my symptoms, but so was gastric cancer.  An infection or an ulcer can be cured with the proper meds, care with eating and drinking, and time. Once symptomatic, gastric cancer is virtually 100% fatal.  The words "No cancer" were good to hear.  I've been getting tired of having chronic pain in my stomach and side - hopefully that will soon end.

The shock is that a neighbor has been found dead in his house.  Unfortunately, he was an older man who had become hermitish - it's probably been a few days.  I know he had a daughter, but they weren't close.  If my daughter didn't hear from me at least once each day my neighbor across the street would be checking on me - it's happened before.  Which is comforting - I have three animals in the house and I don't want them left without care. 

Another View

Having nothing better to do while, um, waiting last night than poke around the web , I stumbled across Dave Barry's take on getting a colonoscopy.  It's a lot more entertaining than mine. 

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called ''MoviPrep,'' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes -- and here I am being kind -- like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, ''a loose watery bowel movement may result.'' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, ''What if I spurt on Andy?'' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the hell the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was Dancing Queen by Abba. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, Dancing Queen has to be the least appropriate.

''You want me to turn it up?'' said Andy, from somewhere behind me.

''Ha ha,'' I said.

And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, Abba was shrieking ``Dancing Queen! Feel the beat from the tambourine . . .''

. . . and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

Read more here: http://www.miamiherald.com/2009/02/11/427603_p3/dave-barry-a-journey-into-my-colon.html#storylink=cpy

Read more here: http://www.miamiherald.com/2009/02/11/427603_p2/dave-barry-a-journey-into-my-colon.html#storylink=cpy

The whole thing can be read at http://www.miamiherald.com/2009/02/11/427603_p2/dave-barry-a-journey-into-my-colon.html

Oh, Yummy

A day of liquids and a night of ... well, let's just say that tomorrow is scope day.  I'm torn between wanting them to find something so a diagnosis can be made and wanting them to find nothing because some of the options for my symptoms are Very Bad.

And that MoviPrep stuff - aspartame, salt, vaguely lemony, thickish.  Bleah.  And I have to get up at 3 am and drink another quart of the stuff.

 

Interesting

I just sent in my photos to Emily Miller - it's the last day.  And suddenly I'm locked out of my gmail account.  I find the timing interesting.

Fireworks Day

And we is prepped.

Test Drive

Once upon a time in an office far, far away, before we all got tired and disgusted and people started desperately wanting to be elsewhere, we used to do a lot of camping, biking, and canoeing together.  One favorite trip involved putting a flotilla of canoes on the Potomac at Paw Paw Saturday morning, camping at Green Ridge State Forest overnight, then finishing the trip at Little Orleans on Sunday.  A good time would be had by all, despite occasional mishaps.  Like the time one of the guys lost his car keys in the river. 

That was years ago, and I don't think I've been in a canoe since, even though I've lived near both the Shenandoah and the Potomac rivers since 2004. 

Thought it was about time I considered changing that, so yesterday was a test drive of a neighbor's kayak.

Yeaaaahhhhh...I'm in love.  8 ft, 35 lbs.  No, it's not for rapids, and there's no storage compartment - I need a dry bag and any major trips would have to involve car shuttles for gear.  But if I had more arm strength and less sense I'd still be paddling west on the Potomac.