Classy

From the Obama-Biden re-election website.  Classy, just classy.

From the Yard of the Caer

To Hell In A Handbasket

I should probably stay away from this subject - it's still evolving.  And I know better than to trust the media for information, but since it is being kicked around as a convenient way of attacking the right to carry I have to reflect on it.  In between cussing the media.

One Treyvon Martin is dead, shot by one George Zimmerman.  Information coming out is evolving - Martin was not an angel and Zimmerman is not a frothing-mouthed bigot.  It looks increasingly to me as if this may all be the horrible end result of a couple bad decisions.  Zimmerman should not have gotten out of his vehicle after the 911 dispatcher told him to stay put.  But Martin should not have confronted him, either.  Martin should have kept his eye on him and gone on home.  Or, if he thought the danger was immediate, called 911.  It appears that instead he confronted Zimmerman.  And because of the bad decisions on both their parts, it all went to hell in a handbasket.  Martin is dead.  Zimmerman may be physically alive, but he's dead.  If the Black Panthers have their way, Zimmerman will be physically dead - the Panthers might as well wear hoods the same as the Klan does.

I have to think:  given the circumstances, what would I have done?  It appears that the screams we hear on the tape are Zimmerman's.  Martin has snapped one to his nose and laid him out and is now sitting on his chest, beating Zimmerman's head against the ground.  There is no time to reflect on what has brought them to this place.  There's no time to think "I really should have stayed in the truck", no time to think "He'll stop soon".  There's just a +6 ft guy who has broken my nose and is pounding my head against the ground.

I would have fired.  What has brought us to this place is no longer relavent.  I have no way of knowing who my attacker is.  I have no time to reflect on what led to this moment.  All I know is that somebody is trying to kill me. I don't have time to review his Facebook page or analyze why he's in the neighborhood.  The concept of tragedy and "Woulda, shoulda, coulda" is for the future. It's all gone to hell in a handbasket.

And with one life destroyed, the media is making its bread and butter over destroying another.

Spring

I love Spring.  I love the return of light and life and watching Orion slide back down towards the horizon, taking long, cold nights with him.  I love opening the windows and letting the sounds and smells come in once more, pushing winter staleness out.  I love watching my plants shoot up out of the ground and cover themselves with bloom in what sometimes seems like just hours. I love watching the lawn wake up out of Winter brownness and shoot up dark green faster than I can get the mower ready to deal with the season.

This has been an early and spectacular Spring, and I've relished every moment of it.  I had to close up and turn the heat on for the first time in a couple weeks yesterday as we briefly sank to normal temperatures, but mostly my house has been open to pollen and bugs and I don't care - I love Spring.

We had an electrical fire at the office last Thursday morning.  The buildings had to be closed, which normally wouldn't matter because I telework, but it knocked our servers offline.  Once I finished up the work I could do without them I was free as a bird and Thursday and Friday were spectacular.  The house, front porch and porch furniture got power washed, the porch got re-stained and the furniture got a new coat of polyurethane.  The new hummingbird/butterfly beds got dug up and supplemented, and yarrow, dwarf butterfly bush, and abelia joined the bee balm.   Mulch got put down.  The patching of a problem area began - I need to get the grass established there before the Summer heat gets here.  Some flowers that weren't doing well in one place got moved to another where I hope they will do better.  And all the while I mentally sorted through what I want to put in a couple beds that are shady and the deer keep wiping out.  No impatiens this year.  Maybe a variety of ferns.

I'm exhausted.  My joints are sore.  There's 400 more pounds of top soil in the back of the SUV waiting to get shifted to bad spots that need leveled.  I need to mow today.  I'll probably need to mow again Saturday.  My sprained finger is pissy and sore because I don't stop long enough to let it heal.   I haven't even made it over to St. Peter's to start on Mary's garden there, or started on the beds over at St. James.

And the trees are covered in hazy green through which bright birds fly and I am very, very content.

It's Global Warming, Global Warming! (Insert Chicken Little Here)

Except it's Jupiter.  Apparently it may be melting from the inside out.  Odd about the whole stuff-happens-because-of-natural-forces-not-the-combustion-engine, isn't it?

Full article is here.

Fail

Sooooooo... the climate is changing dramatically and catastrophically? (insert Chicken Little here...) But we are supposed to move to sources of energy that are dependent on that catastrophically changing climate?  I fail to see the logic.

 

Whose War on Women?

Flagrantly stolen from Creative Minority Report.