AP: Pakistani leader: Bin Laden 'may be dead' — or not

I don't think I can get any funnier than that headline.

The new place

Has a dock for my boat:

And although it's far off the road, I do still have neighbors. These built their own home from scratch:

They're very quiet. It's a little creepy that we so rarely see them, so it won't be a surprise to see their names splashed all over the headlines, related to some heinous crime.

These neighbors we could do without. They are loud, and always complaining:

But at least they shut up at night, unlike these party animals who are rude enough to come look in the windows after dark, freaking out the cat:

*

*I stole this shot, 'cause I don't have the patience or the photographic equipment nor the proper bug repellent to sit outside in the dark trying to get a shot of my own.

What's in a name?

It’s because of the name, isn’t it? Because when we hear ‘swine’, we think, yuck, filthy pigs.

36,000 people in the US alone die from flu every year, which works out to about 100 people a day, IN THE U.S. ALONE, dying from the flu. That’s your common, boring, garden variety flu.

774 died from SARS, the last media event, WORLDWIDE, in a year. Only about 8,000 got sick from it. Worldwide. Your odds of winning the lottery were way better than getting SARS.

People, relax. The swine flu is another media circus, just as was SARS. I know heaps of you out there may be running around screaming ohmygodweregonnadie! No, you're not. Wake up. IT'S THE FLU. Any other well-known flu will kill you the same, but only if you’re already in the risk category for dying from it. Otherwise, you’ll probably miss a few days work and feel like you have, well, the flu.

Yeah, yeah, I know it's a strain never seen before, yadda yadda yadda. That happens all the time too. IT'S STILL JUST THE FLU. Years ago, while living in Hawaii, I got something dubbed the 'Asian flu.' (Such a name wouldn’t be allowed in this day and age-too racist-even though that’s where this strain had originated, in Asia). That, knock on my wooden head, has so far been the only time I’ve ever had the flu, and has also been the sickest I’ve ever been in my life. Did I catch it because it was so serious? Possibly. Or maybe I caught it because I was working nights, partying on the beach till dawn, and then spending my days swimming, scuba diving, sailing. Sleeping was not on my list of things to do. (Ah, the gifts of youth). Did I die? No. Did the world go crazy and panic? No. Did Hawaii get shut down, quarantined? No. Few outside Hawaii got it, except of course for those who dragged it off to their homelands and shared, which is how it got to Hawaii in the first place. No big deal; it was simply a newer version of an old product, rather like Window Vista replacing XP. It sucked, but we survived.

When you’re reading the spectacular headlines, and feeling the urge to take to the bomb shelter, keep in mind that so far, 11 people WORLDWIDE, have died of this strain of flu. With chances being good that yesterday, 100 more in this country alone probably crapped out from all the other strains of flu.

Get some perspective, and go take your vitamin C.

moving day

As much as I love this cottage where I currently reside, it is only a winter rental, and by gum, I do believe that winter may actually be over. Although being New England, just 'cause it's gonna be 83 tomorrow, doesn't mean it won't snow next week.

Unless I want to pay per week what I pay per month to stay here, it's time to move on. And I have found the perfect place to suit my budget. It's a tin shack in the woods, half a mile off the road, seven miles from my favorite shipyard.

This here's my new bathroom:



There's even a garage,



for my wheels:



What more can a person ask from life? I know just how lucky I am.

Well you have to admit it's not something that you see everyday, unless you live in South America or wherever the heck these tortoises live.

No comment on the frog. Kiss it and see what happens...

Just remember that the last lips on it were those of a canine who just finished consuming a dead mouse...

Sorry for not being around much lately, but it's SPRING!!!

Time to stop hibernating and go roll around in the green green grass.

Foolishness

After I stopped running with scissors, I did this to the tag on the mattress:

Somebody call the police.

Why did I denude my landlords’ bed, the same landlords who have been so wonderful to me, in such a cruel and heartless manner?

I plead the fifth.

Take your squirrel sailing

One fall a few years back, I remarked that I thought that we humans had had our day, and that the squirrels were going to be the next master race. That particular year, they were very aggressive. At one point they were climbing all over the screens at my favorite marina, knocking on doors, wanting to come in. Approached, instead of exhibiting proper squirrel behavior by running up a tree, they would stand their ground and growl. They seemed bigger and heavier than in previous years. Scary.

A friend of mine wanted to get in one more sail before the snow started to fall. He loaded his guests into his dinghy and motored out to his boat on a mooring. There was a squirrel running around on the decks. They got ready to sail, and right before casting off, chased the squirrel onto the mooring ball, figuring that it since it had to have swum out to the boat from the seawall; it could just as very well swim back.

They had an hour’s great sailing before that New England adage kicked in: if you don’t like the weather, wait a minute. If you do like the weather, don’t get used to it. The sun disappeared, the wind and waves kicked up, temps fell dramatically. The fun was over. My friend decided that instead of getting everyone wet in the lousy conditions in the dinghy, he’d take the big boat into the dock, drop everyone off except for one hardcore sailing friend, and then the two of them would return the boat to the mooring and come back ashore in the dingy. Sails furled, they were motoring up the channel past the shipyard when people started shouting at them. Given the wind and the noise of the motor, they really couldn’t hear what everyone was saying, but it sounded something like ‘squirrel’. And people were pointing at the front of the boat. Someone on board went forward and looked over the bow towards the water. Sure enough, there on the bobstay clung a squirrel, possibly the first in history to sail Narragansett Bay as a figure head. Apparently, when they thought that the squirrel was safely left behind on the mooring ball, he had other ideas and leapt for the boat, which immediately began to pitch in the swell. There was nothing more he could do but say his squirrel prayers and cling for dear life.

As the boat approached the dock and turned to come alongside, the squirrel saw blessed land, and leapt. He hit the dock running, only to be stopped by a group of people walking towards him down the dock. Panicked, he looked for shelter, finding it in the exhaust pipe of a powerboat docked stern to. After everyone else cleared ashore, my friend and his pal approached the powerboat’s owner, who happened to be aboard, and said, “Pardon us, but there’s a squirrel in your exhaust pipe.” The guy laughed, and said “good one.” They insisted. The guy said, “man, what have you two been smoking, and can I have some?” They said, “Humor us.” The guy shrugged, said “OK,” and started his engine. The squirrel shot out the exhaust as if fired from a cannon, landed in the water, and disappeared under the dock. My friend looked at his friend, and then at his boat tied only a few feet away. “RUN,” he shouted. Fearing angry squirrel revenge, they ran down the dock, quickly untied the boat, and shoved off, before the squirrel could get back on board and do them bodily harm.

Turned out that winter was record breaking for cold. We had more than six feet of snow over the course of the winter. Those squirrels knew it was coming, and yeah, that would have made me crankily aggressive too, demanding to come inside, seeking a better way to protect my nuts from being buried and frozen.

AP: Officials: Pirates, terrorists not linked directly

That’s such a relief. I’d hate to think that the pirates sold out, or were bought out, or taken over in a corporate merger. Glad to know they are making it on their own.

I love how the government has coined, and the media glommed onto, the term ‘terrorist’. We’re supposed to quiver in our strappy sandals, and be forever grateful that we have the protection of our government, to keep us safe from such creatures that lurk outside our doors at all hours.

There always has to be a group out to get us:
Russians
Germans
Indians

Our ancestors eradicated the Indian threat, and we turned the Germans into our buds so we could drink their beer. The Russians fell apart of their own accord.

I remember the ‘Russian threat’ growing up. In school, we used to have drills where we had to practice hiding under our desks in the event of a nuclear attack. Even as young as I was, I knew that the underside of my desk was futile protection from harmful radiation. I played along to avoid calls to my parents and trips to the principal, but vowed that if there ever was an actual real live nuclear explosion, the last thing I was going to do was hide under my desk, because let’s face it, wads of gum, carvings of ‘j.c. luvs a.g. 4evr’, and old boogers, would be the last thing I’d ever see. Forget that. If there were to be a mushroom cloud, by gosh, I was gonna run to the window and look at it. Cool, that is so awesome… Our government was very clever in naming the next dangerous group to threaten our safety and well-being. Let’s just call them terrorists, shall we, because that’s not racial, and we can apply it to any group we want, as it suits us. That way each generation won’t have to go to all the hassle of thinking up a new moniker. We’ve got it covered.

rainy day mess

When your yard looks like this:

There's a good chance a bored dog will make your house look like this:


How's this for posting without any content whatsoever?

Perfect

A group of long distance sailors was sitting in the cockpit of our 36’ sailboat docked in Hawaii, enjoying my partner’s barbecue and the cocktails I was mixing. Most of us had just sailed from California, headed for the Shangri la we believed we would find in the South Pacific. The rest had just come from there, confirming our suspicions that it really was heaven on earth.

The group was discussing what they missed most about landlubber’s life. Dishwashers. Microwaves. Grandchildren. Fresh veggies mid ocean passage. Gravity fed rum tank. One by one, each person voiced what it was that they wished they weren’t without as they sailed around the world’s oceans. As the conversation moved inexorably towards me, I wracked my brain for something, anything. Sure, I missed close proximity to my family, but we kept in touch by letter and phone (this was before the wonder of internet-yes I’m that old-chronologically if not mentally). But honestly, I couldn’t think of one thing that was missing from my life that mattered in the least. Wow, seemed like I had it all. Living a dream, sailing a small boat bound round the world with a man who did almost all the cooking. The conversation paused. It was my turn and everyone was waiting as I tried and failed to think of something lacking from my life. Finally, the silence was filled with a change in subject about changes in the weather. I moved to the bow alone to contemplate the wonderful revelation that my world was perfect. How could I have gotten so lucky?

Of course it didn’t last. I’ve yet to sail round this planet, and now I’m a stinkin’ landlubber to boot, but there for a while, not only was my life perfect, but I knew it. How many people can say that?

*warning* this post has been interrupted to bring you a serious moment. Our regularly scheduled program will resume when I darn well feel like it. Leave now if you don’t want to get depressed. Otherwise, you’ve been warned. My lawyer can whip your lawyer.

________________________________________


I’ll never have perfection again, thanks to the large gaping hole my brother shot in my heart nine years ago, when he put the nine millimeter to his head and pulled the trigger, ending his longstanding battle with clinical depression. Although I’ve learned to live in this world that does not contain my brother, it’s never been quite as sunny. There will always be something missing.

Happy 40th B-day, bro.

Has anyone noticed what’s been missing from the house?

Spring is the time of year that war is waged against spiders, as they move up from their down low winter hideouts and build webs in the corners of the ceiling. Most of my friends’ houses are usually lively with spiders, but not this year.

At first I thought this might mean no spring, but no, the grass is turning green, night temps are above freezing, the toads are horny, there’s above average roadkill. Spring is here.

Yesterday I de-cobwebbed my own house for the first time since moving here in the fall. Being such a country abode, the house would normally be overrun if I ignored the arachnids all winter.
Not only were there no new webs, but the ones hanging from the rafters were very old and dusty, obviously having been abandoned some time ago.

Not one spider egg to be found in anywhere.

I’ve heard about the disappearance of bees and the decrease in bird populations, but where have all the spiders gone? Methinks of that line from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, “goodbye and thanks for all the fish.” Are the smarter creatures migrating to a new planet? And how will future generations explain about the birds and bees if there aren’t any?

I've been too busy to blog 'cause I've been lining up my crack lawyer team to sue every shoe manufacturer on the planet.

Shoes don't come with warnings that walking with laces untied can lead to tripping.

It's not my fault I didn't know that. No one told me. How was I supposed to know?