News in Brief

I just read a news blurb on msn.com that said "Clinton cleavage ignites debate." I could look it up, but instead I'm going to sit here and wonder which of the 3 Clintons they're talking about.

I watched the obituaries on the news this evening. Ingmar Bergman died. I know, I thought he died 50 years ago too. I mean no disrepect; it's just that I was really surprised. Tom Snyder was also eulogized. My first thought was "Where have you been?" And former 49ers head coach Bill Walsh died. It's a tribute to him that I not only knew the name of a professional football coach, but I recognized his face.

Back to school sales have started. So have some schools around here, the rest will start in a week or two. It won't be long before kids have no summer at all. I'm glad I was young so long ago that I had long summers full of sunshine and wading in the creek and playing paperdolls and baseball and catching crawdads and reading books.

American Idol auditions have started again. More than 10,000 people showed up in San Diego. Aren't you glad you don't have the job of weeding out the bad from the truly awful from the actually talented?

And that's the way it was.
Good night, Chet. Good night, David.

Yes/No, Up/Down, East/West

.... it's all the same direction.

"What shall I do?" she asked.

"Do? Do what?"

"Exactly!" she said emphatically, "What shall I do with the rest of my life?"

"Why, do what ever you like."

She scrunched up her face in that thinking way. "But what if I don't know what I like?"

"Then just do the opposite of what you don't like."

"Will that make me happy?" she asked wistfully.

"Happy? Perhaps. Content? Maybe. Does it matter? Isn't it enough just to be?"

"Just to be?" She thought about that for a moment. "Nothing more, nothing less? Just be me?"

"No. Just be."




Francesca Rauchi's Confusion courtesy of the artist.

And sometimes I cry

Yesterday, my baby brother would have been 50 years old. I don't know why this birthday bothered me so much more than last year. I have been crying all week. At what we missed for so many years, at what we lost, and what we'll never have.

This is a picture of his first grandchild, the granddaughter he never knew.

Montage of Entertainment News

... mixed with my judgemental comments.

Did you hear that Drew Carey is going to be the new host for the Price is Right? I don't think Drew will make it 1/10 as long as Bob Barker. Don't get me wrong. I like Drew Carey; I just don't think he'll make a good host for this particular show.

Did you hear that Tammy Faye Baker died? I think there's a special place in hell for television evangelists who steal from their parishoners.

Did you happen to catch the quartet of marshal arts hotties on America's Got Talent? Whoa, mama! Those guys have got abs like you wouldn't believe. I really would like to touch them to make sure they're real. Wink, Wink. (Hey, I'm old, not dead!)

They are down to the last 5 contestants on Hell's Kitchen. Have you noticed that the contestants on that show don't always appear, shall we say, hygenic?

I really miss the old days when I could turn on the TV and watch the Rockford Files, Mannix, Simon and Simon, Magnum PI, The Golden Girls. I could keep going, but I won't. Do you suppose that in 10 years we'll remember the names of any of the shows that are on now? Most of the time, I can't remember the names of the characters while I'm watching the show. But quiz me on the 1980's show Magnum PI - Thomas Magnus, Rick, TC, Higgins, Apollo and Zeus, Agatha.

Or quiz almost anybody in America on The Andy Griffith Show and they'll name Andy, Barnie, Opie, and Aunt Bee without hesitation.

Big sigh.

They just don't make 'em like they used to.

Bang Bang

I got home from work today to find a couple of dozen men re-roofing the carports in my area of the apartment complex.

Normally, I enjoy watching men work. It's kind of like bird watching, but birds are easy to spot. (Smile, that was a joke.)

But enough's enough. It's almost 8 o'clock and they're still pounding. And pounding. And pounding.

And so is my head.

I had a dream

I had a dream last night that I was driving up a steep hill on a gravel road that seemed to get steeper as I was driving till I was afraid I was going to fall off backwards. I pushed the pedal all the way to the floor to speed over the hill before it was too late, but just before I went over the crest I thought, without slowing down, "$*&%! I don't know what's on the other side!"

The other side was bumpy and narrow and seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, but it was there. And I survived. I didn't even wake up in a cold sweat.

I haven't had that dream about driving up a steep hill for a long time.

I googled "steep hill" and "dream interpretation". It means that there is tension in my life, things are difficult, but leading to higher things.

And by the way, I do have a difficult decision to make right now and I don't know what course I'm going to take. I feel like I'm climbing that gravel road up that hill barefoot. But life could be worse, so I'm not complaining. At least not to you.

On another note, even though I had to abandon the car, travel through a tunnel, and go down a strange slide while sitting on a gunny sack, the road eventually led to a hotel. I unexpectedly met a man there that I was suppose to go on a blind date with later that week. To my surprise, he got more "friendly" than most strangers get on first meeting (if you know what I mean). When I got him backed up, I got an even bigger surprise. It was Mark Derwin from the old Bonnie Hunt show, Life with Bonnie. When the show was on, I always thought he was sexy in a husbandly sort of way, but I had to look up his name as well as the name of the show right now because I had no idea what either was.


Aren't dreams crazy?

Or is it just us?

And what then?

And what do I do when the music stops?



Can I sit down then and rest my weary soul
or must I keep moving
from place to place
to no place
and not come home again?

Can I sing my song then
or must I stay mute till your song is done?

And what do I do then when my song is sung?

Tell me,
And what will I do then?

Happy 4th of July!

Happy birthday, America. You don't look a day over 200.

No, seriously, how old are you now? 229? 230?

Want to know more about the birth of America? Look here for the birth announcement and even articles about the conception.

The Eagle Soars

Have you heard the good news?

The bald eagle was taken off the endangered species list in June! It was considered near extinction in the 1960's with less than 500 known nesting pairs in the United States. Now there are over 20,000 eagles in the lower 48 states and over 35,000 in Alaska.

It's good to know we can do something right!

Did you ever wonder? "Bald" used to mean white, not hairless and that's why we call them bald eagles.

Eulogy

I survived the night without a heart attack. Mouse wasn't so lucky. He succumbed to a broken neck. He was a fat-assed little thing.

At least that was my impression from what I saw of him. Even when dead, I can't stand to look at them, but I couldn't very well leave the body lying around waiting for the guys from CSI to take over so I scooped him up in a dustpan, dumped him in a plastic bag, trap and all, then threw that bag into a bigger bag. All without looking at him any more than absolutely necessary.

I still shudder at the thought of it. Of how close I had to come to the creep. My house is no longer my castle.

Nobody invited you

I have a mouse in the house. At least I think it's a mouse. I really didn't get that good of a look at him. One glimpse and my scream sent him diving under the stove and me running in the opposite direction.

It's been at least 15 years since I've had a rodent in the house (not counting the time the dog chased a chipmunk into the living room), but I knew just what to do. I hopped in my car and went to the nearest store to buy mouse traps and a jar of peanut butter. Yes, I bought the old fashioned, break their necks mouse traps. I also bought two plastic tubs to store anything the little vermin might consider to be on his menu.

I cleaned out the closet and moved cereal, rice, and crackers to the tubs. I learned he was a fast worker and a picky little thing as I threw out several packages and boxes of assorted foods that bore his mark. He had nibbled on brown sugar, marshmallows, and crackers. He hadn't eaten any of the crackers, just the box, he made a pile of mini-marshmallows in a corner but none looked as if he had taken a bite out of them, and he chewed a tiny hole in the sugar. I don't rememer what else. Except it didn't look as if he had touched the stale crackers in the packet next to the marshmallows.

I baited the traps with peanut butter and put one near where I'd seen him, one near where he had been eating, and one in between. I hope that's enough.

He hasn't set them off yet, of course. In all my years of keeping house, I've had only a few rodents in my house, maybe 3 or 4, but I think all of them waited till I was almost asleep, or sound asleep, before tripping the guillotine, SNAP! Then I lie there in bed, my heart nearly beating out of my chest, trying not to have a heart attack, hoping that it's dead and trying not to feel quilty that I don't feel quilty about it.

Do you think it would be extreme if I just spent the night in a hotel and let the little bugger have the run of my place?