Careful Robin, Both Hands on the Bat Rope!

In our immediate "circle" of friends and acquaintances within the last several months or so there has been a brain tumor, kidney cancer, a hip replacement that became a life threatening incident, a stroke, depression and a suicide attempt, plus a few smaller medical procedures that pale in the light of the above and general aches and pains that have turned once vital adults into aging wrecks. A boat capsized during a windstorm in the river forcing a friend to swim in frigid waters for nearly a mile before being able to drag himself to shore. A garage was destroyed by a fire caused by careless teens who were partying. At least four marriages have come apart at the seams due to midlife crisises leaving heartbreak and mayhem in their wake. Financial ruin is rearing its ugly head and the house around the corner is going into foreclosure. The list goes on.

Holy heart failure, Batman! What the heck is going on?

I know we must pass thru and endure trials in order to grow. Collectively, we haven't even begun to match Job, but then most of us really probably weren't expecting our faith to be tested to that extent. Were we? Add this stuff to last years funerals and Batman the Bishop will surely be the first to yell, "Come on, Robin, to the Bat Cave! There's not a moment to lose."

I doubt we'll be charging out in the Batmobile to save anyone tho...we'll just hang out down there playing a new game.

It's called, Duck & Cover.
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Tending the Garden

Rich, speaking of a childhood friend who had passed away, told of a day they had spent fishing together. Went thru the whole ritual, guy bonding thing and finished with saying he realized that that was the unspoken way his buddy had of telling him, "I love you man!"

Most of us have bittersweet moments we cherish. Life is not always what we expect. I have a dear friend who attacks her garden with vigor when she is distressed. She welds a mean hoe and I have retreated on more than one occasion when I have seen a certain gleam in her eye as she takes a mighty whack at an offending weed.

Usually seems...safer that way.

A couple of days ago, tho, I came upon her again in her garden. Looked like she'd been there most of the day and I thought she might be able to use the company. So we spent some time together. I raked. She hoed. We talked. But the most innocuous comments/stories caused pain. We pretended I didn't notice. . .  Some hurts overflow into almost every aspect of life and there isn't a lot we can do about that.

But still, there we were and all I had to offer was myself, however flawed. It wasn't nearly enough. The only thing I knew for sure was - those weeds didn't stand a chance.

I wasn't able to fix much - but the yard...it looked good.
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Queen For The Day

If I were "Queen For The Day," I'd have an agenda. Yes, another one beside the one you suspect I already have....

I would fix the ills of society. A revised version of the gospel (cough) according to ME.

First on the list?

Easy downs.

Huh?

Yup, easy downs. You know all the skate boarders and gang banger wannabes? Thems boys who have taken the plumbers crack and refined it into an art peepshow? Young men wear the mandatory patterned boxers, y'know - the ones whose front flap has (unfortunately) not been sewn shut and then position their jeans below the butt cheek in back, and while I try not to look, I suspect below the wobbly bits in front. Then they get a good, strong belt and strap the whole contraption to their thighs. Which, in case you flunked anatomy, is wayyyy too far south of the waist to hold anything up.

Watching them walk in that getup is a little like watching the movies of geisha girls shuffling along on their tiny, malformed feet. Really, it's hard to be cool with a gait like that. It looks, as my old paps used to say..."like they've got a stick up..." Yesssss. Let's not finish the rest of that unfortunate saying.

But it appears that is a little too close to the truth. Where did this atrocious trend come from?

Queue up Paul Harvey's  - The Rest of the Story.


Mrs. McKee, an esteemed instructor at Hanford Public Schools, who is a lovely, no nonsense woman nearing retirement age, used to work with and teach inmates in the California prison system. The other day she casually mentioned that fact to her how low can you go challenged classroom and noted that this "fashion statement" started in the prisons with the young latino gang bangers who, being younger and smaller than many of the other inmates, and being unable to prevent themselves from becoming some 6'5" goon's "bride for the day" decided to embrace and flaunt their fate. So they started to wear their pants very loose and low to make for, ahem, quicker and easier access...AKA easy downs.

The next day in Mrs. McKee's class most pants rode noticeable higher.

Queen for the Day says, problem solved, at least...temporarily.
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Is It Safe to Come Out Now?

Yesterday was a lovely day. Sunshine, moderate temperatures, y'know 75-78 or so. Gentle breeze. Just me, the cats & my garden....oh yeah, and The Youngest. I had recruited him to dig a hole for my new bleeding heart. He then proceeded to dig, chop and hack a hole into the irrigation line, which was quite a bit deeper than the bleeding heart needed to be planted but he'd made a machete type of thing out of an old lawn mower blade and wanted to see if it worked, (sigh) and it just got better from there. But that's another story, I digress...

This morning it starts to rain

Hard.

Temps hover in mid 50's. The van needs fuel. I pull into the 7-11 on G Way. Virtually deserted. Guess no one wants to get wet this morning. Well neither do I. I pull under the canopy at the gas pumps. One car on the other side but no one else around. Think I'll flop right in the middle so I don't get rained on. I put the van in park. (Mind you, I've just stopped, engine is still running.) Another van, driven by a wild eyed 20 something wheels around the side of me and screeches to a stop in front of me, facing me.

Ummm?

She glares, gestures, waves her arms and her mouth is going a hundred miles a minute.

What?

Huh?

I'm a little confused. Does she want me to back up? What side is her gas tank on anyway? And wait. I got here first and there are no less than six service stations on this stretch of road...

So I'm thinking...if your gas tank is on the right side of your vehicle, go park behind the car on the other side of the pumps. They'd be pointed the right direction for you.

But if your gas tank is on the left side of your vehicle, you may get BEHIND me, and I'll pull forward, which is what I would have done anyway if I had seen you pull in after me and we both can share.

I put my van back into drive and pull forward, oh six feet. (Not as far as I would have normally but...you know, we've got to factor in that entitlement thing she appears to have going on.)

She slams her rig into reverse and pulls in behind me with about 3 inches between our bumpers.

Oh. Her gas tank is on the left side....

She stomps into the store while I use my credit card and begin to fuel.

Our little darling comes back out, jerks the hose out and attempts to put the nozzle into her tank.

Oophs.

Too short.

This is beginning to be just toooo much fun.

Should I tell her or do you think she'll figure it out that if she untangles the hose it will reach????

Ahhhhh, atta girl. She's got it.

I finish fueling just after she does, but she's so busy fumbling w/her gas cap that we're both ready to leave at the same time.

I get in and pull out of the parking lot.

She is going to turn the same way but is stopped by oncoming traffic. (Gotta hate it when they have the right of way...)

A minute later I see a van tailgating me. Any closer and she'll have to introduce herself.

Oh wait, never mind. I already know who that is! And, doing the speed limit, down the road we go.
And hey look! A gas station. Oh! Another one.

She puts on her left blinker. And stays behind me.

G-Way remember? Two lanes of traffic each way?

I may be a little slow on the uptake but is she indicating that I should move to the left and get out of her way?

Wow. What a little witch.

NOTE TO THE ME GENERATION:  Older than you, bigger than you, crankier than you.

Don't make me pull this car over.
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Just Sayin'

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Bumper Snicker

Note to self...do not take a sip of pop and then look at a bumpersticker like this. It burns when it comes back out of your nose....


Sorry cowboy, in my corral,


8 seconds ain't no ride.

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Letters to the Editor

Want to get some exercise but not have to get out of your chair? Pick up the newspaper and watch your blood pressure rise.


I started this morning by reading a conservative point of view in regard to the Arizona Immigration Bill. While not a full coverage of all issues I thought it conveyed a reasonable response to the issue of racial profiling:

...I just want to say stop with all the race stuff. I have never seen the race card pulled so many times under one president. This is just absolutely ridiculous. Why are Americans racist when they want to prevent the flooding of illegal aliens? Notice I said ILLEGAL not legal. They are not trying to prevent immigration.

First off Arizona is doing the job that the federal government won't do, which is to regulate immigration. I think it is only fair that Arizona has a right to protect its own borders. We don't care whether you are black, white, brown, yellow, green or purple; we just want people to abide by our laws. So do us a favor and knock of those accusations of, "Oh, they are racist."

If people want to become American's they should at least put in the effort to be one. We do need some kind of reform to help the people who have been patiently waiting to become citizens. And I welcome them (legal immigrants.) But we need to start  securing our border and show it isn't OK to break our laws.

Garrett Fitzsimmons - Kennewick

Note - our writer clearly defines illegal vs. legal immigration. But the letter that followed directly below it? Hold onto your hat folks:

...I am more than a little confused regarding the concepts of "crime" and "illegal." It appears that a "crime" is the result of an illegal act and demands some sort of punishment, but doing something illegal, for example entering our country without proper authorization, is not necessarily (???? okay starting to hyperventilate here) a crime, except in Arizona.

Let me make it clear that I am adamantly opposed to branding 20 million to 30 million people in this country (he's talking about illegals mind you) as criminals and putting them in jail or deporting them. I doubt that the Arizona law will withstand a constitutional challenge, but that is beside the point...

Sheldon E. Shore - Pasco


ARRGGH!


Sheldon darling. You are scaring me. Not so much for the fact that you live "next door" but because of the fact that you're probably breeding and creating more life forms that would have any Enterprise crewmember flipping out his communicator and saying, "Scotty, beam me up. There is no intelligent life on this planet."


Let's get this straight, once and for all. TO BE IN THIS COUNTRY ILLEGALLY IS A CRIME. IF YOU ARE CAUGHT YOU CAN BE JAILED OR DEPORTED. This is the law of the nation not just Arizona. I know of no where in the WORLD that one can go and get away with the crap that illegal immigrants get away with here in the good old USA. You, Sheldon, as an American citizen can not just go to England, Kenya, Russia, Brazil or yes, even Mexico, flop and stay until you're darn good and ready to leave. Also I know of no other country in the world where a non-citizen may collect public assistance, vote and/or school their children at will, but I digress... In your travels you will need a passport and visa, and will have to abide by the laws of that country (unless of course you have diplomatic immunity.) Failure to do so will define you as an illegal immigrant and subject you to criminal prosecution.

And I hear they are not nearly as nice about it as the USA is...
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