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.

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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?