Zen and the Art of Sitting Up

Okay.. some non baby-related content tomorrow (maybe). For now, we have two teeth appearing, so things have been a bit stressful around the place. But with all that, we still found time to practice our new skill of sitting up.

 
Girls Just Want to Have Fun

We went to our first party as a family yesterday. Moiya's daycare held a Christmas party for all the kiddoes... and there were LOTS of kiddoes. Plenty of food, presents for all the children. Very nice, really. And a very, very sweet thing to do for the kids. Must have set Dawn back a mint

Moiya however reacted just like her old man when confronted by the noise and movement of people she doesn;t know in an enclosed space. She fixed me with this "Get me the hell outta here!" expression and burrowed into my chest. A party animal she is not -- at least not at this age. Perhaps next years she'll be making noise with the rest. Hopefully not. It was kinda nice to have someone to be terrified with. The only other person who hates parties as much as I do is my former Father-In-Law, and since the divorce I don't have an I-Hate-Being-Here buddy anymore.

Moiya did come out of herself a bit when it came time to open prezzies... though as the accompanying clip shows, the present itself was not the object of her attention.

Opening Presents

 
For the Scrap Book



Play is SUCH tiring work!

Clean and Pretty

 
Oh Dearie Me...

There is an old saying -- from the Latin I believe -- that "those whom God wishes to destroy He first makes mad."

To which I would add "But those He really wants to mess with, He allows to discover that they've been standing in front of a classroom full of nuns all day with their fly hanging open".

 
It's Good To Have Friends

This just cracks me up. I was fiddling with our little digital, which also takes movie clips, convinced that Herself was going to start crawling (she didn't) and I looked up just in time to see this. The baby was fussing, frustrated by her inability to do what she had set her mind to do. And little Duncan just came over and laid down next to her and snuggled. Funny... we were so sure that Wicker would be the one that fell in love with the baby.

Whatever. It's good to have friends.

 
Note to self: When starting child out on her first fruit, prunes are NOT a good choice.

 
On a More Prosaic Note

This one is for friend Kelly, who is a chef, and who inspires me to try these things :)

And just so My Girl knows in years to come what a cheap old bugger her Pop was, I must record my deep joy at getting somethin' for nothin'

Woo-Hoo!!!

Boiled down the Thanksgiving turkey carcass... never understood how anyone could just throw it away. Absolutely the most valuable thing in my kitchen. (Aside from chopsticks... I use them for everything. And wooden spoons, and Mom's cast iron. What a Godsend!... but I see that I digress).

Made a huge pot of the most wonderfully aromatic turkey stock. Then I chopped up all the leftover veggies for the week: carrots, celery, green onions, mushrooms. I cheated and bought two potatoes. Added a little white wine and some good egg noodles and spice and cooked it all afternoon.

End product: soup you could die for.

I love making soup, I really do. And this was one of my best batches EVER. And all for the price of two potatoes.

That just tickles me :)

 
Cries in the Night

Not that I'm questioning the Author of All Creation (more than usual) ... but I have the same reaction to teething that I had when I first learned about sex: "What was (He/She/It/ Insert your preference here) THINKING?!?"

This is just terrible! Moiya hasn't slept in days and hardly eats (and My Girl, like her Daddy, likes her food). All she does is cry pitifully with wide, accusing, and very confused eyes that just eat my soul.

And for three days we've held her constantly, trying everything under the sun to ease the pain. At times, when you tickle her tummy, she smiles, but cries at the same time. Which even now brings tears to my eyes.

Thankfully, at the moment (2 a.m.) she's finally asleep. Sleep seems to be the only time she doesn't hurt. We like sleep. A LOT.

This is terrible.. I've never loved anyone anywhere near this much, nor hurt so badly and not been able to do a thing about it.

Poor Jacq has borne the brunt of the past few days, rocking late into the night, whilst I've carried on with the business of keeping the place running. Thankfully, she is sleeping now also.

Whoever designed this system.. IT STINKS!

Maybe I'll go and try this sleep thing now.....

 
Treebeard Forever

I'm of two mind concerning artificial Christmas trees.
On the one hand, they keep us from butchering real trees. On the other hand...

I'm kidding... there is no other hand. I'd love to tell you all about my fond childhood memories of harvesting the sweet-smelling fir. But that would all be rubbish. We had a fake tree for years and years

When you live with severe allergies, you learn to be pragmatic about these things. Do artificial trees smell as good? No.

Do they stop your breathing? Also no. The latter wins.

So I grew up with fond memories of the family (all three of us) gathered around to assemble the Christmas tree. I learned pretty much all of my best swear words from that. We all hid when Pappa started to hang the lights.

But this tree is pre-lit :)

(By "pre-lit", of course they mean that it has 800 or so lights and miles of wire woven into the branches... and three plugs that make it all work that you can't find if your life depended on it)

Have rarely had a tree these past few years. The house is tiny and the holidays wereusually spent somewhere else. But this year we've got Moiya and were determined that she would grow up with a tree. And so I set out the what is refered to as the top shopping day in the year: the Day after Thanksgiving.

I should have just shot myself in the head.

Suffice it to say that ater three hours of driving, parking and cutting my way through walls of human flesh, I finally purchased a tree. Then I spent the next half hour trying to wedge this MASSIVE box into the car

Ended up dismantling the baby seat, the full size seats and everything else I could find and slamming the boor repeatedly against the box to ram it the last few inches.. Got in, started the engine, then realised I didn't have enough room to release the parking brake... had to get out of the car to do that.

And now we have a tree! It looks good, we've started a new family tradition... and by the time it wears out, Moiya will be old enough to get her own damned tree!

 
Giving Thanks

Bet you can't figure out what we're thankful for this year.

More baby footage here
File is 1.8 M)

 
The Countdown Begins

Twenty-eight days till our sweet girl is fully ours!

Not a great day. Arrived for an onsite at 8:03 a.m. for a 9 a.m. class. I pride myself on always being scrupulously punctual, and I leave a one hour period to set up and prepare for class.

Imagine my astonishment to find the room full of people waiting impaitently for me to arrive. Seems the Account Exec agreed to an earlier start (8 a.m.) to the second day of class, but forgot to pass the word along.

On the other hand, tonight has been blessed: a gentle, steady rain with a soft, cool breeze. The Girl has been a dream. I laid her down for her nap and turned the radio on to the classical station. With the door open, I could hear her cooing to herself, she could hear my typing, and we both could hear the music. The animals were sweet and serene. In all, there was a blessing of Peace on Innisfree tonight.

And Jacq. got to come home earlier than we had figured she would! Nothing is as good as when we're all together at home. Even now, the soft sound of the rain against the window makes me smile. Tonight has been one of those nights you live for and your souls feeds off of for a long time to come.

 
Seeking the Middle Ground

Okay.. Here's the deal. This is my blog and I have thoughts, feelings and opinions. One of the reasons I started this thing was to give myself someplace to freely vent.

Unfortunately, since this became a clearing house for news of Moiya, it has become no longer my own. My Mom (and her family) have radically different world views from mine. And while I respect their opinions and defend their rights to have them (however misguided) I DON'T want to read them.

Now that they know where I stand, they've finally (mostly) gotten pretty good about not forwarding their rants to me. Unfortunately, if they come to my blog they are going to be exposed to mine. They don't want to read it, but the Moiya stuff is right in the middle. I understand their dismay, but at the same time, I get understandably peeved when I keep getting complaints from my family essentially saying that I can't write what I please in my own bloody diary.

SO.. I'm creating a branch unit, The Innisfree Rant. When you see it, you'll know that my political opinions are expressed inside. You can skip over it, if a conservative (as most of my family is), or browse, if a Liberal (as most of my friends are)

Now hear this:
If you are of a conservative lean and you deliberately choose to visit the Innisfree Rant, KNOWING that you will most likely be offended, then it is on your head. I don't want to hear a WORD outta you. K?

Seems like a fair and happy compromise to me. I get to say what I think, and my family doesn't have to read it.

 
A Kneecapping by Don Cortisone

Note to self: When you go to the doctor to have your cholesterol and BP checked, don’t ask about your knees.

Age is encroaching. Maybe it’s the 20 years spent kneeling on concrete floors pinning hems.. but my knees are shot. Especially the right one. Oh, the arthritis in my wrists comes and goes as it has for the past 10 years. But the knees have gotten bad. Really bad. Bad to where I can't hide the grunts and gasps from my wife. Some days I can barely crawl upstairs to bed without Jacquelyn ’s help. And going downstairs in the morning (especially if I’m carrying Moiya) fre3quenlty brings gasps and tears.

So as an afterthought, as I was getting dressed, I asked the doc about me knees. He felt the one, rotated it, bent it, and finally asked “Do you want some cortisone?”

Well hell… I dunno. I thought he’d just give me some pain pills. I don’t know cortisone from Corti-slim.

“Ummm.. Ok” I say “If you think so.”

Spoken like a man of action.

Sez the doctor “This will hurt”

Oh hell!! They NEVER say that. Plunge a spear through yer belly and it’s “You’ll feel a little prick.”

“This will hurt??” Oh Dear.

So he goes out and comes back and jams a needle in my knee. It hurts, but I grip the table and am mum. The shot seems to go on forever, then ends with a gush of fluid. I fancy that it is blood, and that the doctor is cleaning me up. I think “Eh… that’s not so bad.” I’m a bold man, I am..

Then I look down. The fluid is the nasty orange disinfectant they use. The doctor is pulling on surgical gloves.

Oh Dear. Oh deary dear.

Suddenly the doctor whips out a needle the size of a railroad spike (roughly) I close my eyes at the same time I grip the table and hang on.

The first pass strikes the kneecap and bounces off. I don’t need the doctor to tell me this, as I can feel the scraping of metal on bone. “Sorry” sez the doc. “Mphuuph umph!!” sez I.

Another icy stab, more grinding. Apology. Stab, dig, grind… grind… grind .
“AH.. there it goes!” as the metal slides below my kneecap.. then out.

“Yea! It’s over” is the my first thought. Followed by “Oh dear.. I’m going to throw up!” Followed by “Oh dear.. I’m fainting!’

Some time later I stagger woozily out of the office, much to the amusement of the nurses.
“Wow.. you’re really pale!”
“I’m Irish… we don’t tan.”
“Well I’m Irish and I’m not as pale as you.”

I resist pointing out that people who are going straight to hell have a healthy glow.

Now it is later.. I cannot help but favor the right knee.. but flinch at the memory of that needle. Somewhere I’m convinced that my kneecap will fall off if I’m not careful.

But on the other hand.. I can carry Moiya up and down the stairs now.

That’s worth a lot..

 
More Baby Pics
Moiya's first Halloween costume, and another of her fetching hats.

 
Milestones

Moiya's first little snow outfit, and her first time able to grasp (and hold) her bottle.

 
Saving Private Values

(Warning: There are opinions expressed herein. Readers of a delicate nature may wish to turn away)

Sorry Mom... I've got opinions, and it's my blog.

Don't know if you are even aware of it, but several hundred ABC affiliates (20% of the total) decided not to show "Saving Private Ryan" as part of a Veterans Day tribute to (as Tom Brokaw would have it) the "Greatest Generation" that fought WWII, for fear that the FCC would punish them.

I thought it was just a case of knee-jerk station managers trying to make a (badly conceived) point. Till I learned that several conservative Christian groups -- including OneMillionMoms.com and OneMillionDads.com had threatened a flood of FCC complaints if the movies aired.

People.. we are sliding down that slippery slope. Yes, there is a need to be circumspect in what is sent out over the PUBLIC (not private) airwaves. Yes, the networks have been moral whores (America has been ruined by the Advertising Council, IMHO). But for pete's sake! As one veteran whose letter I read put it:

"With all the garbage on television, shame on Channel 8 for not showing "Saving Private Ryan." The film is a masterpiece dedicated to the brave men who fought in World War II, especially on D-Day and after. Thanks to them and people like them down through our Nation's history, we enjoy freedom. To shy away from showing the real cost of that freedom is cowardly. - Michael R. Murphy, Midlothian"

This ranks alongside the refusal of an entire broadcast network to air the Nightline episode in which the names of our honored dead were read and their sweet faces shown.

SHAME!

And on Veteran's Day!!

I want my little girl to be moral. I want to shield her from the excesses (or even the commonplace) of "popular culture". But I would die a thousand times over before I would have her be a moral coward.

What are we becoming? I thought I lived in the "Land of the Free"

I need to reread Fahrenheit 451 this weekend. Despite the (unfortunate) association with Michael Moore, this classic of 1954 is just one of many stories Ray Bradbury told of a future in which things that make one have "unhappy thoughts" are outlawed.

How silly I thought them in the 60's when I first read them.

"Gee, Mr. GI... I'm sorry you suffered and died for me.. but it's disturbing. Could you please go away quietly?"

 
Running Deer and Feisty Rabbits

(I think they were leaders of the Sioux uprisings of the 1870’s)

Was cleaning out my car the other morning in preparation for an onsite (where I currently am). I often have to carry upwards of ten computers, and now that I’ve got a baby seat too, there’s no room for ANYTHING else. Saw something over my left shoulder and glanced up in time to see a full-grown deer, full antlers and all bounding out of the subdivision (as Marci says, “McHouses”) across the road in front of our house, through the side yard and into the woods.

I stood stock still for the longest time and watched the woods, hoping for another view. Was rewarded by seeing his white tail as he clambered up the hill. We usually have several females, but I hadn’t seen this big guy before. I hope he lays low during hunting season. And it reminds me that I need to go out and get a salt lick for them. I bought one a few years back and told Jacq. That I couldn’t figure out why they never had anything to do with it. She said “Well, where did you bury it?”

Apparently you’re supposed to bury the things and let the salt leach into the soil. Who knew? Jacq. Just gave me a pitying look and mumbled something about “city boys”

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

I don’t know why we keep buying toys for Hettie. Turns out her favorite one is her litter box. I have to buy a new one every two weeks or so, because the minute I put it in, she goes to work gnawing the front off, letting the litter spill out all over the cage. She’s very particular in house she arranges her cage: ALL of the corncob litter HAS to be piled on the left side of the cage, leaving the floor exposed on the right side. All he toys have to be put in her little wooden “cave”, and the front of the litter pan has to be gnawed flush.

At least it saves me having to clean that nasty mess out. By the time it begins to stink so badly that the cats complain, it’s time to throw it out and get a new one. Sometime, just for amusement, I spread the corncob litter out evenly, just to watch her hop down off her “throne” and furiously start throwing it back where it belongs. I can’t tell if she’s enjoying the exercise or furious… but it amuses me. ?

Here There Be Dragons
The day started badly. As we are in transition at work, lots of things have been falling through the cracks. One of these is the paperwork we’re usually given before going out to teach on site.
Case in point: there was no map this time. Not an issue, really, since I ‘ve never trusted the directions they give me ever since they sent me to a location 40 miles away from the actual teaching location. I always generate my own maps from the internet (which gives me distance and travel time as well) and then check them again the city map I carry in the car with me at all times (a sensible precaution for those of us who are “directionally challenged”)

This has always worked aces before today. This morning I started out at 6 for an 8 a.m. class, which should have given me an hour setup time, a half-hour driving time, and at least 15 minutes getting-lost-and-finding-my-way-back time.

Round about the time I should have been arriving (having followed the directions to the letter) I was in the middle of a hellish landscape dominated by a massive chemical plant. Dante never imagined anything creepier that this place… huge black towers belching evil-looking gasses, massive metal structures lit weirdly from below. (the entire area, I’ve since learned, is a mass of chemical plants, referred to locally as “Rubbertown”.) And since I was teaching class at a place that manufactures shirts, I said to myself “Self” I says, “This ain’t right.”

So I backtracked and tried again. Same result. Backtracked again, throwing in a slight change. Things got worse. Started expecting to see the bleached bones of cattle.

So I pulled over and pulled out my trusty map, only to find that it ends just as it gets to where I was going) So I thought I’d call the contact at the company and pulled out the meager documentation I’d been given, only to find that the phone number was the one for New Horizons.

Called NH and got through to the Account Exec who’d made the sale, found that he wasn’t sure he HAD a phone number (WHAT??) and waited while he looked it up. Called and got directions (“You’re WHERE?” The answer elicited much laughter) and arrive at 7:30.

Four Degrees of (Moiya) Happy

1) Big toothless grin, mouth open
2) Big toothless grin while curling up body (aka “The Full Body Smile”)
3) Laughing out loud
4) Laughing out loud whilst holding the arms rigid, and flailing both legs like mad.

I live for all of them ?

 
The Swarm

One of my favorite annual events is underway. Our house, it seems is some sort of mecca for ladybugs. They are an absolutely constant presense here. I think there must be several huge colonies in the atic.

Which is fine with me, because it tickles me so when they swarm each year.

We were lying in bed at story time, Jacquelyn, Moiya, Duncan and myself. And I was reading the story of "The Grouchy Ladybug", which I like enormously (Moioya is somewhat indifferent). I was just finishing up the story and pointing to the picture of the ladybug, when I glanced up at the ceiling, and there they were.

The number is a bit off this year. Sometimes we have several hundreds of them meandering over the bedroom ceiling. This night it was only 50 or 60, just wandering around, visiting, trading gossip, and just generally going about their ladybug business. It reminded me of nothing so much as the night sky in reverse.. a vast white field with all these tiny dark pinpoints.

The next day, our back yard was simply amazing. I tried to take footage, but the light was against me. When they swarm in the warm afternoon sun, the effect is like snow. The air is simply thick with tiny little creatures, sailing merrily on the breeze. Occassionally thy land on the window for a time to catch their breath, then sail offf again. I found one in my drinking water this morning, waving his little feet. So I lifted him out, dried him off and sent him on his way.

I love the little guys and am just srooy Moiya isn't old enough yet to enjoy them with me. But on the other hand, by next summer she'll be just old enough to sit with me and watch the fireflies sing their silent song through the dark grass.

Now THAT will be worth waiting for!

 
It's Good to Have Friends


From the sublime to the ridiculous. I looked over at the rocker (where kitties aren't supposed to tread) and there were the two girls -- who shortly before had been hissing and spitting at one another -- curled up in identical poses, asleep.

That's what cracks me up so about them... They will strike the same pose, and when I come across them, turn their heads at the same angle, with the same "who me?" expression :)

 
And the Hits Just Keep On Coming

What a great week. Just got word that Jason has resigned, effective next week. At this point we were like family. The mutual support and camaraderie were best I'd ever known.

Now there are only two of us, James and I.

I'm starting to understand how the last two dinosaurs felt. I keep looking at this room of ours which once held our happy band of maniacs.

It's starting to echo in here....

 
Black Day

I have never been so disgusted by my fellow countrymen, nor in such dispair for the future of my country as I am at this moment in time. However this election is eventually decided, that Bush et al could still amass such numbers after its record it a testament to the seemingly infinite capacity of people for self-deception -- hearing only what they want to hear and seeing only what they want to see.

I fear in my soul that the great unwashed mass of the American public has roused itself from its TV-induced slumber, spied its shadow, and now we will have four more years of winter.

Today the glory has passed from the people of Israel and they stand among the nations ashamed, as Cain was, at their unnatural deed. [Eph. Rhy. C. Jud. 8)

Alas for you, lawyers and Pharisees, hypocrites! You are like tombs covered with whitewash; they look well from outside, but inside they are full of dead men’s bones and all kinds of filth. So it is with you: outside you look like honest men, but inside you are brim-full of hypocrisy and crime.
Matthew, ch. 23

Your father is the devil and you choose to carry out your father's desires.
He was a murderer from the beginning, and is not rooted in the truth:
there is no truth in him. When he tells a lie he is speaking his own language,
for he is a liar and the father of lies. But 1 speak the truth and therefore you
do not believe me. Which of you can prove me in the wrong?
John, ch. 8

NOW all the truth is out,
Be secret and take defeat
From any brazen throat,
For how can you compete,
Being honour bred, with one
Who, were it proved he lies,
Were neither shamed in his own
Nor in his neighbours’ eyes?
W.B.Yeats

 
Well, we did it. Moiya and I tromped out through the storm and the rain and stood in line and waited and finally voted. She was a very good girl through it all.

Now it's like Christams when I was a kid... go to sleep and wake up in the morning to see if Santa brought you a bright shiney prezzy, or a lump of... coal.

 
A Prayer

Spent the previous day researching the polling place, and making sure all my paperwork is in order. I must not mess this up.

I don't care what the polls say. I have faith that all may yet be well, and our poor, dear country may yet be returned to its ideals. Heck... if I got a baby, anything is possible. :)

But Thy will, Lord, be done.

 
An Observation

Happy Samhain, all. The Celitc New Year begins tonight, when all the hearth fires in the land would be extinguished and then relit from a common bonfire, the flame passed from family to family. In this transitional night between the old year and the new, the veil between the worlds was at it's thinnest and one might see into the future or revisit generations past.

She Who Must Be Obeyed wore her bunny costume to daycare. I'll get pictures up sometime soon.

Anyway...

Don't know why this didn't stike me before... but when a music box plays the same tune over and over for days and weeks on end (thank you, Ellen) it begins to do weird things to your mind.

"Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" is the same tune as "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep" is the same tune as "The Alphabet Song."

That was it. That was my observation.

We're really very dull people. :)

 
Baby Pics

Lisa sent the prints from the 35mm shots she took (which is really nice since I've not paid her yet. It's been a BRUTAL week.. but more on that in another post. I don't have a lot of friends, but those I do have are golden :)

Again, if you need a good, local photographer, contact Lisa here.

And though we didn;t plan to photograph Duncan, she wouldn't leave the baby's side. We always thought Wicker would be Moiya's buddy. She's such a loving dog. And she may well be when Moiya gets to be a little older and can roughhouse. But little Duncan just loves that baby. Where Moiya goes, Duncan goes.

Odd side notes. I said that I wanted to raise our baby with books and with critters. And she has taken to both. When Duncan is around, Moiya watches her with rapt attention. And she gets so excited at story time each evening when I let her hold the book that I sometimes have to take it away in order to get her calmed down for bed. It reminds me of my parents' descriptions of me with magazine pictures when I was an infant.

Gosh I love this parent stuff! I have never been as happy as I am at this moment.

But on to the odd part: Jacq. went to visit her Mum last weekend with The Girl and Sheila wanted to know what Moiya's favorite TV programme was. Jacq. explained that she doesn;t have one. We don';t put Moiya in front of the TV except very, very rarely, and then only with a Baby Einstein DVD (I'm partial to the Baby Mozart and Baby Neptune DVDs myself). Moiya has never really expressed any interest in the TV and we don't intend to encourage it. Jacq's Mom acted like we were beating the child.. seemed to think she was so deprived. And I thought "What odd notions people have." There's a baby at daycare that's about the same age as Moiya, but who takes no interest in her surroundings. She seems almost retarded by comparison. And the only difference that we can see is that her mother just doesn't seem to interact with her much. I wonder how much tv she sees?

I remember, you see. I remember reading the National Geographic articles many decades ago about the experiments with baby monkeys (though it makes me nearly weep to remember). The ones they didn't cuddle, grew warped and stunted.

I remember things. Things I have read. Things I have seen. Things my parernts taught me. I have prepared for this job my whole life. You don't wait 50 years for a child and then screw it up.

Also.. we got the papers. The court hearing is definately ON for December 16th. And the motion has now been filed to change our baby's name to Moiya Kathleen Eagan.

The prize is almost within reach.

Okay... here's the pics. And a shout out to my friend Kelly, who has been down. Big huge hugs to ya, Sweetie:

 
No Longer Black and White

WARNING: POLITICS AHEAD!

Well, I feel better. I just could not figure out how the Republican Party, of which I was once a member, could have fallen so very far from the principles it once stood for. I could not figure out how people of even normal intelligence could listen to what this administration says, and look at what they do and not see the vast dichotomy between the two.

But I just stumbled across an organization of Republicans who are finally standing up and saying out loud the the Bush administration does not represent the core values of their party.

Of the many public statements I have read of late (including one from Ronald Reagan's duaghter), the most thoughtful, lucid, and powerful is this from the son of President Dwight Eisenhower, which I here reproduce without further comment:

"THE Presidential election to be held this coming Nov. 2 will be one of extraordinary importance to the future of our nation. The outcome will determine whether this country will continue on the same path it has followed for the last 3½ years or whether it will return to a set of core domestic and foreign policy values that have been at the heart of what has made this country great.

Now more than ever, we voters will have to make cool judgments, unencumbered by habits of the past. Experts tell us that we tend to vote as our parents did or as we “always have.” We remained loyal to party labels. We cannot afford that luxury in the election of 2004. There are times when we must break with the past, and I believe this is one of them.

As son of a Republican President, Dwight D. Eisenhower, it is automatically expected by many that I am a Republican. For 50 years, through the election of 2000, I was. With the current administration’s decision to invade Iraq unilaterally, however, I changed my voter registration to independent, and barring some utterly unforeseen development, I intend to vote for the Democratic Presidential candidate, Sen. John Kerry.

The fact is that today’s “Republican” Party is one with which I am totally unfamiliar. To me, the word “Republican” has always been synonymous with the word “responsibility,” which has meant limiting our governmental obligations to those we can afford in human and financial terms. Today’s whopping budget deficit of some $440 billion does not meet that criterion.

Responsibility used to be observed in foreign affairs. That has meant respect for others. America, though recognized as the leader of the community of nations, has always acted as a part of it, not as a maverick separate from that community and at times insulting towards it. Leadership involves setting a direction and building consensus, not viewing other countries as practically devoid of significance. Recent developments indicate that the current Republican Party leadership has confused confident leadership with hubris and arrogance.

In the Middle East crisis of 1991, President George H.W. Bush marshaled world opinion through the United Nations before employing military force to free Kuwait from Saddam Hussein. Through negotiation he arranged for the action to be financed by all the industrialized nations, not just the United States. When Kuwait had been freed, President George H. W. Bush stayed within the United Nations mandate, aware of the dangers of occupying an entire nation.

Today many people are rightly concerned about our precious individual freedoms, our privacy, the basis of our democracy. Of course we must fight terrorism, but have we irresponsibly gone overboard in doing so? I wonder. In 1960, President Eisenhower told the Republican convention, “If ever we put any other value above (our) liberty, and above principle, we shall lose both.” I would appreciate hearing such warnings from the Republican Party of today.

The Republican Party I used to know placed heavy emphasis on fiscal responsibility, which included balancing the budget whenever the state of the economy allowed it to do so. The Eisenhower administration accomplished that difficult task three times during its eight years in office. It did not attain that remarkable achievement by cutting taxes for the rich. Republicans disliked taxes, of course, but the party accepted them as a necessary means of keep the nation’s financial structure sound.

The Republicans used to be deeply concerned for the middle class and small business. Today’s Republican leadership, while not solely accountable for the loss of American jobs, encourages it with its tax code and heads us in the direction of a society of very rich and very poor.

Sen. Kerry, in whom I am willing to place my trust, has demonstrated that he is courageous, sober, competent, and concerned with fighting the dangers associated with the widening socio-economic gap in this country. I will vote for him enthusiastically.

I celebrate, along with other Americans, the diversity of opinion in this country. But let it be based on careful thought. I urge everyone, Republicans and Democrats alike, to avoid voting for a ticket merely because it carries the label of the party of one’s parents or of our own ingrained habits.

 
A Light at the End of the Tunnel

As of now, it looks like we have a court date of Decmeber 16. The adoption should be finalized at that time. All other hurdles have now been cleared and we are into the home stretch.

 
TGIF

A long a dreary week grinds to a close. Rain for three days.. a steady, gray, London drizzle. Ordinarily I'd like this.. the cool breeze, the leaves turning to glorious color.. the smell of the rain.

And I do love this time of year. I drive past fields of corn and wheat and soy (those that have not been turned into condos or strip malls) and watch the great havesting machinery plodding along, leaving neatly shorn stalks in their wake, like some overlarge barber. Sometime crows or other birds will walk along after the combines, pecking at the fallen grain. It is the end of the Celtic year, when the Green Man must die so the the year can begin anew. I love fall.

But see.. I still have this list of stuff I haven't done. And while it's raining, I can't make any headway! Grrr... I was at least starting to get some of the bulbs I bought into the ground, then I suddenly realised that you're supposed to plant them AFTER the first frost (oops) So I stopped... something else left incomplete.

The vegetable garden is finished. I harvested the last of the tomatoes and okra and we had a feast, but the time has come to put it to rest. So much to do as nature winds down. But, I love fall. I need to clean out the stove this weekend and call the chimney sweep. Soon I get back to splitting and stacking wood for the fire.

Not much else to tell, really, Jacquelyn is still in great pain. Her car repairs have finally begun from the deer strike. And Moiya is still the best part of any day.
I can't believe how much I look forward to driving home, just knowing I'll get to pick her up and hold her close. I can't believe I can love someone so much. She's gotten so big! Her head is perfectly steady mow, and she regularly reaches out for things that interest her and grabs them. During "tummy time" she can suport herself on her elbow nicely. And always so alert.. so interested in everything around her.

Tonight I grabbed a bunch of nearly-empty shampoo bottles and floated them in the bath with her and watched her bat them around. She is finally starting to discover splashing... and the fact the she can splash old Dad makes it all the funnier.

And always there is story time before we put her down. She actually focuses on the books now, and if I hold them near enough, she reaches out and get terribly excited about handling the pages.

Gosh, I'm such a sap :)

Note to self: ALWAYS make sure to take the garbage cans to the curb on time. Missed the pickup last week and consequently was not able to empty the diaper pail (which wwe have dubbed "Chernobyl").
Oi! Never again. Tried hosing it down with Lysol and the fumes just ate the Lysol, burped and laughed.

OK.. enough. To bed I go.

 
There Is No Joy in Mudville
Just a bad day all around. Failed to pass my Adobe Expert Certification exams. This is just a MAJOR humiliation.

Got screwed by a customer in the scoring after busting my behind for him in class.
No idea why.

And Jacq found out that, after they gave her the position of inventory control manager to see if she could handle responsiblity when she asked to be considered for Assistant Manager... and after she raised her store up about 23 notches to #1 in the district ratings -- while simultaneously on family leave in Lawrencburg during the Kentucky Hostage Crisis -- they are now saying that they just aren't sure and maybe they'll consider it again after Christmas (translation: she doesn't put out like the trailer trash they usually promote).

And since Moiya isn't old enough to get a flu shot, I had to get stuck today to protect her... after having had to argue with a receptionist who kept trying to tell me that "Caretaker of a child below the age of 6 months" meant only childcare workers, not parents(!?!). Fortumately a nurse came by and set her straight. Idiot!

But my sweeties are on the way home now and I'll soon get some Moiya snuggles. They make so many thing better.

 
New Pics

The first (digital) results from the pics my buddy Lisa took. As soon as the 35mm stuff comes available, I'll post it here.

Not much news. Jacquelyn has been down with an awful ear infection. Despite meds from the doctor, she continues to awaken in the night in tears.

She Who Must Be Obeyed is chowing down on cereal, veggies and formula now, and spending longer periods of "tummy time" each day, holding herself up and looking around. She should begin trying to crawl soon. I'll try to post movie clips soon.

And fall has arrived. The weather is cool and gray and wet. I LOVE IT. Going to clean out the stove this weekend and see if I can't round up some firewood :)

BTW: Give a break to a starving and very gifted artist. If you reside in the Louisville area and need a photographer, drop Lisa a line by clicking here

Also, I'm pleased to report that Lisa is having a public showing of her work in Frankfort, October 29. The press release is located here.

 
"The Great NHL Massacree"

Before I took down the site, I wrote that Regina had been sacked. That weas really only part of the matter.

It's been a wild week. The first we knew of any change was a note we recieved from Bob via e-mail, summoning us all to a mandatory meeting. I wrote back and joked that "as long as you aren;t gonna givce us all our pink slips." He assured me that he was not.

We are still in business because we joined with two more profitable New Horizons, Dayton and Cincinatti. And as the bad business decisions from Louisville kept coming (us rank and file have known all along that the policies being persued were disasteroous), revenue continued to drop and we sank further into the hole.

Finally Dayton got tired of subsidizing us. They identifeid the same problems that us ground troops had two years ago and took action.

By the time we arrived for work that Monday morning, the entire administrative staff had been fired (ok.. Bob - the owner - had been "retired"). And Dayton sent down two of their best performers to take the reins.

So.. everything is up in the air. Jodi and Allen are running the show, after a tearful departure of the old crew. The newfolk seem to know their business, and we are all hoping that they can put the place back on its feet. But everythin, everything, everything is in a state of flux. As Lao Tsu said, Change is what life is all about. (I still don;t like it much, though) :)

We'll just have to ride it out, wait, and see what develops.

 
Work in Progress

Sorry for the interruption... but there were over 100 posts on this blog and it was well past time to archive some of them. I tried getting Blogger to do it, but because it is channeling the script back into my web site rather than its own, it rather scrambled the lot. This left me no option but to sit down and hand-code the whole thing, rearrange all the files on the site, and then upload Innisfree all over again.

The blog entries have been archived by year. And the comments section (a third-party plug-in that never worked right... it was supposed to left me know when an entry had been made, and NEVER did) has been replaced with a link directly to my email. If anyone knows of another script that works better, I'll be happy to try it.

In case you haven't ever seen what web pages look like divested of their pretty trappings, here's what I've been doing for two weeks:


The 2003 and 2002 sectrions came out all right, but there are still quirks on the template for the main ("Recent") page. I'll eventually track all the "fiddly bits" (as Slartibartfast called them) down and fix them. But it will be slow going. Have patience.

In January, I'll archive the 2004 stuff, but it should be an easy matter by then.

 
Brave Heart

Sorry to hear of the passing of Christopher Reeve. While not a fan of his, I admired his courage and outlook on life.
As Sir Winston said, "Never give up."

 
Good Kitty

In what has become part of our morning ritual, as soon as Jacquelyn laid Moiya down on our bed to change her clothes for daycare, Duncan came trotting in and hopped up beside her. She nuzzled Moiya with her head, at which point the baby reached out and grabbed a handful of fur.

Now, I can tell you from personal experience, when she pulls the hair on my arm, it hurts like hell. And yet the cat just sat there and let her do it. And instead of backing off when Moiya let go, she just nuzzled her again and laid down beside her.

 
Reporting In

For no other reason than that I have nothing really to say, I pass along my situation report from my three-day onsite.

At Innisfree, nothing is really new. Moiya continues to grow (we went to the Dr. yesterday and got our shots. I had not been there before and the sight of the tray with 4 hypos on it was almost as harrowing as hearing my baby cry). She has decided (despite my very best efforts to persuade her otherwise) that breakfast is to be served at 4 a.m. And she has finally taken notice of "the girls" Or more particularly, Duncan.

Duncan has to come and be part of the bedtime ritual now. When we prep Moiya for bath and story-time and bed, Duncan comes running and circles Moiya, rubbing against us and sniffing her. Not sure why. But Moiya is utterly fascinated. Whereas before she was aware in a sort of vague way, when Duncan now comes into view, her eyes lock on and she turns her head around to keep her in veiw.

The other morning I was changing and dressing Moiya to take her to daycare and Duncan hopped up beside her. Moiya got suddenly quiet and turned her head to watch. She reached out a chubby hand to Duncan and petted her fur. Duncan for her part held still and allowed this, which endeared her even more to me.

So interesting all this is. And I am reminded every day of the great fortune I have to be sharing this home with the souls that I do... however many legs they walk on.

Oh... almost forgot. Ms. Moiya has now gone from formula to rice cereal, to (as of yesterday) squished veggies -- which she likes!

Have also been playing with getting our home movies (as well as photos, family records and the like) preserved digitally on DVD. Burned my first disk last night with only a few errors. Can now share more things, preserve my Dad's memoirs, and will shortly begin scanning and saving all the family photos I can lay hands on. If the paper fails, I want to have a backup for my girl.

Ok.. enough serious. Here's my report on the last three days at work (onsite):

"Technically, a real disaster. Two machines wouldn't even boot and one was simply hauled away, never to be seen again (so one student was simply "un-enrolled" and sent back to work).

Still using multiple different versions of Excel.. a problem compounded by the fact that they replaced the workstations on the back row with some rather ... um... vintage?... desktop units that were not only running different versions of Excel, but also different versions of Windows. And they didn't seem to be set up quite right, as the entire row kept locking up and generating myriad error messages, "this feature not installed", "pivot tables are for sissies", "yo mamma likes Macs", etc. One guy (whose computer would only produce a thin, white band across the screen when asked to generate a chart) just gave up after the second day and looked on with another student.

Other than that, class was just peachy-keen-o. Filled in the time with as much extra stuff as I could think of that they might find useful. Answered all questions ans stayed after on the last day to work through some formulas for one student. Some of the guys were bored (at first... but then I found out that they knew what "Talk Like a Pirate Day" was, and we had fun after that. "Arrrrr.... Scurvy damned computers these be! Arrrrr...". Two ladies just looked affronted to be there at all (on rereading the above line, I can maybe understand that). One really seemed to know her stuff, but the other was the sort of clueless person who seems inclined to blame the instructor for their dumbness. Both seemed to have had their sense of humor surgically removed. (Perhaps there is a black market trade in it, like body parts?)

On the other hand, one brave guy was from the mfg plant and didn't have a clue at all about computers, but he worked hard and did very well (as I told him). I really admire that kind of spunk and stayed near him to make sure he could keep up ok.

Lousy computers, nice facility otherwise (free Mountain Dew!). And Amy French (our contact) is just a sweetheart of a person. ILM was fine. No Elvis appearance, though. I think he really did move to another plane of existence. However I did very briefly channel the spirits of Millard Fillmore and Howard K. Smith."

Okay.... off to add another coat to the deck before I pick herself up from daycare.

 
Season's End

Hard to believe, but fall is here already. 2004 will go down as the "Summer That Never Was", as far as I'm concerned.
Oh, I had such plans.. so many things that I was going to do to bring the grounds under control and make our house look a little less like (as I put it) Dogpatch, USA (oldsters will understand).

But I had not figured on so many things. We never really do, do we?

The going joke when I was in therapy (one of the MANY times) was Q: How do you make God laugh? A: Make a plan.

Good stuff, that!. But I really did know the plan... I just didn't know the timetable :)

And now Autumn is upon us. This is my favorite time of year, and always has been. The air turns crisp and clean. Mornings are chill. The leaves begin to turn those GLORIOUS colors. And all the world slows down just a little. Each day seems more immediate and real.

In some ways, I miss my ancestral past (which I never knew but which seems encoded in my soul), when life was governed by the pace of the natural world. We lost something vital there, when we gained indoor lighting and moved away from the farming world.

But in spite of modern intrusions, autumn is still a time of thought and refelction. It is a time for gazing into the fire (and of lighting them. Have you ever noticed that people with fireplaces light them more often in Autumn than in Winter?). A time to process all that summer was, in preperation for the spring. In that way, perhaps, it serves the same function for us as dreams, which process the events of the day and clear the slate for the waking world of morning.

Whatever.. I only know that my heart and soul are far more alive now than at any point in the year. My senses are alive and my wicked mind in balance for once. With no disrespect meant to Saint Paxil, you gotta enjoy that while it lasts!

Maybe it has to do with the old Celtic tradition that held that day began at dark and the year began at the end of summer. Maybe I'm just gearing up for the next round, eh? Maybe this is just the breather before whatever else God has in mind for us (and make no mistake... there is more)

One thing is certain... as God promised, it will always and forever be an adventure.

And I'm up for it! Today I got a shipment of bulbs I'd ordered way back when. Now is the time to plant them. They say that a garden is the ultimate sign of faith in the future.

And so I was thinking: when these come up and flower, the little bundle sleeping in my arms will be up and actually walking! I'll be able to wander through the garden with her and teach her what flowers are.. and oversee her gathering a few to take back to her Mommy (as I have with Katie.. not that her mother cares).

Damn! It just doesn;t get any better than that!!!!!!

Gosh... I like this Fatherhood stuff :)

 
Prayers
Prayers are requested for our business manager, Regina. Regina is a good soul, who has been very accomodating during our long period of refuge. Regina does my teaching schedule adn, true to the form that you never know who your friends are till the chips are down, did everything she could to cut me slack in that most difficult period.

Last week her Dad was diagnosed with colon cancer.. and the following day her uncle (aged 55.. barely older than me) dropped dead of a heart attack.

So prayers are requested for her and her family. Please. It would mean a lot.

 
Patriots
!!(warning: politics ahead)!!!

Just drove into Corydon and made sure all my voter registration stuff was in order. Whatever your feelings and whatever your beliefs, GET OUT AND VOTE.

• Whoever you believe should win, VOTE


• Whatever your political leanings may be, VOTE


• Whether you like your choices or no, VOTE

If I had my way, any sorry-assed idiot who doesn't vote (and I get so tired of the twenty-somethings whining about how "I don't like either of them so I'm staying home") would be shipped to Iran.

People died to give you this right. Even if you lose (even if the other side rigs the vote in Florida and you lose) remember this above all: people DIED to give you this right. And most of the world would gladly trade places with you if they could. So don't you DARE give it up!

There has been much big-mouthing these past few years over what is and is not "patriotic" and what it does and does not mean to be "a true American" Well here it is, children. Voting is your duty if you live in this country and enjoy the rights you do here. Get up and vote.

Now, that having been said, and proper respect paid to getting BOTH sides to vote (and despite the fact that I bite my tongue... erm... pen? daily to keep this blog a relatively politics-free zone) ...and I do apologize Mum.... and.... despite my respect for all the folks who care enough to have opinions in this debate...

But dammit.... I now have a daughter's future to think about... and I do... a lot), so I feel real no guilt about slipping this item in:

If you care about our service men and women, you really should read this column by Karen Kwiatkowski, Lt. Col. USAF (ret.) that appeared recently in Militaryweek.com Lord knows you won't hear this from the big-business-owned commercial media. (And before you say it... she's a Conservative).

So flame away. I now return you to you regularly-scheduled baby-pictures :)

 
Still More Smiles

Thanks to teamwork yesterday, we were able to get a few more pictures of baby smiles.

The picture in the crib is with what has become "her" bear. My friend Lisa (of long, long ago.. back when I was working at U of L) sent it to her because, as she said in a letter: "I knew that Mr. Pooh would be a favorite cause he grabbed me while I was in his store and said "take me to Moiya, I am her bear". He will be a good friend to you. "

And so he is. If ww put him next to her she just snuggles in and goes to sleep.

My other friend Lisa (who is a gifted photographer and a curator at the Derby Museum.) is coming next Sunday to take pictures. I have tremendous faith in Lisa's work... and she can't (on her worst day) rival the garbage we got from the J.C. Penny "portrait studio" where a Goth chick fumbled around and eventually took some pics of a terrified and most unhappy baby. And then delayed delivery for a month. (Jacq told them to get stuffed).

In the last few days Moiya has now found both of her feet! She doesn't put them in her mouth (yet) but likes to grab them both and roll around like a Weeble. And this morning she found her tongue.. and spent the morning lying in bed talking and sticking it out at us:) Pretty funny stuff. Wish I'd had the camera ready. Still... we're doing ok documenting our little girl, I think.

Not that I necessarily think the wqhole world is as fascinated with this stuff as we are.. but I'm keeping this little entries documenting our little girl, and burning them to a DVD for her with pics and footage. And someday it will be important to her :)

 
Full Body Smile

Mom took the only picture we have thus far of our little girl laughing :)

 
Worth 1000 Words

 
Moiya Speaks

Got a tiny digital camera that, as it turns out, does movies clips with sound. This is a good thing, as The Girl tends (when she is in a good mood) to talk LOTS. Don;t have a tape deck. And any time I get near her with the camera, she clams up. But today she was in her playpen, and with the mesh sides, I could see her but she couldn;t see me. And so I got a clip of her smiling and jabbering to herself.

The original is sparkling clear.. but at 14Mg I thought I ought to reduce the size a bit. Still.. it's clear enough. At 2Mg it still might be too large, but we'll see.

Click here for the clip.

 
Things I have learned in the past three months

• Never, ever hold a baby over yourself unless they are fully diapered.


• Rice cereal is just as good as giving a baby valium... and cheaper.


• Not only can you tell your baby's cry in a room full of infants, you can also tell if it's your baby's diaper that needs changing


• Babies have no conception of the meaning of the words "Just a minute."


• In the name of mental health, no man should ever have to walk in on his Mother-in-Law talking about "boiling nipples"


• Babies are a portal to another dimension. When they start vomiting, WAY more stuff comes out than could possibly have gone in.


• Holding a baby close at the end of a hard day is also better for Daddies than valium. And cheaper

 
On Morgul Blades

(Sigh) Dark thoughts of faithlessness and old betrayals have come and gone all day. As Frodo discovered, some wounds never do heal. You push on and do what you must. But they never heal.

More writing when this wretched mood passes....

 
Trsut is a Four Letter Word

I was reminded by an email today that it is my fifth anniversary at New Horizons. And that deserves some small comment.

I came to New Horizons destitute and desperate.. at the literal end of my rope in every conceivable way. I bald-faced lied about my experience, desperate for a job (and knowing that everyone else had already turned me down).

And they hired me. Everything good since then is an extension of that sinple fact.

I've tried ever since to pay back that chance and my gratitude. And Lord knows I've learned So much SO fast. I don't think I've ever had a job where I knew what I was doing when I started. It must be nice. All I know is this: You paddle quickly when the water threatens to close over your head, eh?

My boss of bosses posted this today:
"Listen my friends and you shall hear of the teaching saga of Michael Eagan. On the 15th of September in '99, hardly an employee is still here who can remember that famous day and year!

FIVE YEARS! Of excellent teaching. Always entertaining, never phased by cell phone usage or periodic Elvis apparitions. (inside joke here.. I often report Elvis having appeared in my end-of-class reports. No.. I don't know why) Several times on the list of top ten applications instructors in the NH network. Many times in five years Instructor of the Month. Cares about what our students learn.

Thanks Michael for five years of teaching! Michael is on an onsite today so Please remember to say a word to him when he is back in the office."

And while I am at it, I need to make this remark:
When I was with the school system, I gave more than my all. In 17 years I was consistently derided and insulted and overlooked. On principal told me that he could order me to do "any damned thing" he wanted. Another told me that I and my "little friends ought to be damned glad you have jobs."

The work and the work conditio0ns were unspeakable.. and I wish I had quit fully 10 years before I did. But the worst cut was this: my coworkers we just evil; though I considered many friends, the infighting and turf-wars were endless and bitter and unreasoning. I spent half my time negotiating alliances between warring parties that later joined forces to denigrate me. And when I left and most needed the friendship of those I had supported, I found that I had no friends there. Only allies of convenience -- and I was no longer convenient.

But at NH, for all its faults (and they are many) I have been treated with (generally) consideration. I have been rewarded when I have done well (until Bush put the economy in the crapper). I have been lauded and my opinions listened to. I have prospered by my wits more than by my ability to curry favors.

And best of all, I can honestly say that I love the people I work with. Many have come and gone. And many I love have gone. But at this point, we are a band of brothers. There has never been a group of people I have felt more comfortable with... have trusted more,.. or been more supported by.

When Jacq was stranded downtown, my collegues went and got her.
When I have been sick, my collegues have covered me... or swapped classes with me when my schedule was too arduous. Few people can get me mindlessly giggling as much as my co-workers. And when we were caught between two worlds and trying to make life work with our girl.. my bosses and collegues bent over backwards (in a quiet way) to help out.

So... Despite my frequent complaints:
The Few.. The Proud.. The Slightly Weird.
The staff of New Horizons Louisville!

Bless 'em all.

"Though I've belted and I've flayed you
By the living God who made you
You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din."
~R. Kipling~

 
Brief Update

Woof! Tough times. Moiya is in the process of teething.. weird; she smiles while she cries, and drools quite astonishing amounts of.. um... stuff... constantly.

Still trying to settle in. Still haven't found places for all of the tons of baby-stuff we brought home... much less the stuff she had ALREADY outgrown. I've bought a gizmo that converts video to computer files so I can edit them.. and then burn them to DVDs. And Jacq tried to print the pics we had taken to put in thank you cards.. only to find that the image quality is not suitable for printing.. so now we have a pricy digital cam which I have NO idea how to turn on.

But when I do.. pics and movie footage will be right here.

 
Spooky

And here I thought that the only two people reading this were my wife and my Mother (and sometimes my buddies Kelly and Ellen)

Just got a note from Mariana, who worked with me on Pinafore in... um... 1885 as my best guess. Who reached me from here.

What a wonderful thing this Web is!

And hugs to you all!

 
The Eyes Have It

As Leonardo noted (but is seldom credited with), the eyes are the windows of the soul. They flash.. they cloud, they shake the world. But until Moiya, I have never seen them change color.

In the Dr. Who novels, writers often comment on the fact that the 7th doctor's eyes darken in anger. I always thought that it was a writer's conceit.

But when this little girl is really focused, her blue eyes turn nearly black!

Just an observation. As Melville said (in the Confidence Man, for those of you who check): "Something more may come of this."

 
Bridging the Gap

I was thinking on the drive home today.. "what's my absolute favorite thing in the world?" And the answer was simple and easy to come by: I love holding my daughter.

But if I had my druthers, I'd have another, more "favorite" thing: I'd love to be able to talk with her.

Forget the forebrain and opposable thumbs. Speech is what makes us human. And much though I love the written word, it is only a form of speech. And an imperfect one.

Something I rmember from my childhood... though I cannot recall the source: we are not very old before we realise how very alone we are. Or as Orson Wells said "We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone". Each of us is enclosed (or marooned) in a shell of bone. We can never EVER know another being directly. We are only as joined to others to the extent that we can accomplish through words.

Perhaps that is why I was an English major and why I continue my love affair with and fury at the sloppy abuse of (and the sly use of, Mr. Bush) language. English is my first and dearest love, prior to Moiya. Mess with her in front of me at your peril. I've gotten into more arguments over her than anything else in life.

So I guess those are the twin themes of my life: time and words.

Sometimes (and any dog owner can attest to this) Wicker will come up to me and look into my eyes. She looks directly, with an unaccustomed sense of urgency, or focus. It is so clear that she is willing me to know what she is thinking. The fact that she assumes that I CAN gives me pause as to what dogs can tell of us. Everyone knows of some dog story in which they seem to be able to read our minds. And I sometimes wonder... can they really? And is that why they so obviously assume that we can read theirs?

But alas, I cannot.

I can come close.. but ultimately, as much as I love my dog (or my cats, my wife, my daughter) they are utterly seperate from me.

Except for language.

I remember when I began to read (though not to hear... which important as it was, is lost to me as a memory). One day words were funny squiggles on paper. The next day they resolved themselves (with a shock I will never forget) into words. And from that point on, I was able to glimpse other minds and share (however dimly) in the emotions of other souls. Some of my best friends in troubled times became those who had passed on.... but who had left their thoughts and views behind.

Is is any wonder that I love language?

I felt a similar pull on the drive home as I listened (as I often do) to music sung in Gaelic. This is the language of my forebears... from the 1300s to the 1900s. And yet I cannot coax the meaning from it. As with my pup... I know that there is so much there to be told.. but I cannot divine anything beyond the most basic intents.

And that is what I most want from my daughter. I adore holding her sweet self... I love the feel of her and the smell and the sound of that little person. But what i really crave beyond words is the ablity to touch her mind. And to have her touch mine. I want to see the world through her eyes and share the view through mine. And that I can only do through language.

I love talking to my neice, Katie.

Katie is three and has finally grasped language. I've known her from birth... but only now has she opened to me as a human being. Every chance we get we sit and play make-believe games. And i love listening to her explain the games to me; the insight into her mind and self just takes my breath away. Most of the other adult patronize and talk down to her, as though she is something less than they.

But to me she is like a Faberge egg.. intricate and suprising.. multifaceted and... and... pure magic!

And .. oh Lord.. the day I can sit and converse with my own little girl!

So.. yeah.. I love to hold her. I love to talk to her and hear her coo at me. But some day we will actually talk... and then my life will finally reach its high point.

 
AUGUST 2004 INSTRUCTOR OF THE MONTH IS...

Michael Eagan


Michael continued his march on excellence in August. His postclass eval scores exceeded everyone’s for both the overall and instructor areas in MTM, well exceeding the New Horizons standard in both areas. While doing so, he taught the second largest number of students this month as well. Somehow, he managed to pull this off while traveling East AND West on an almost daily basis awaiting approval to do the border crossing with their new baby. Michael also has my personal thanks for keeping the Instructor Team on the right track during my absence the last two weeks of the month.

Hopefully, this month will be a bit less stressful for all the Eagans as Michael, Jacqlyn, and Moya have now <> settled in across the border. . .

F.

 
Over the River and Through the Woods..

I was so afraid something would go wrong. I've been trying for 50 years to give my Mama grandbabies. But children are so special.. and it takes a special person to raise a child. (Sometime soon I'll sound off about my niece.. and how I think her parents are dirt).

But I've looked to 50 years for the mother of my children. And when I was led to her.. it seemed we would have no children. And then when the promises I had been given were fulfilled...

Well....... hell.. there IS such a thing as performance pressure ya know!

But Moiya was an angel. And all went well. And my Mama got to meet her grandbaby after 50 years of waiting. And I understood so much better what my Momma and Dad went through in raising me. And doubtless I'll know more with each passing day.

But enough. Each generation carries the stamp of those that came before.. and each stives to be unique. I have posted what we know of the past and the present and the future at www.caindyer.com

For now.. my Moiya met my Momma. Here are the pics and a tiny clip. Jacq's little still camera can take crude movies. I took the girl to see my Dad at his gravesite as well.. but much though I love you all... you were not invited to that.




Sleepy

Hi Grandma!


And what this clip lacks in quality it makes up in for in tenderness
Meeting clip

 
The Best Laid Plans..

I was looking over the todo list I carefully made out at the beginning of summer, back when I was scheduling my vacation time.

Hmmm... don't seem to have accomplished much over the summer.
Something must have come up....

 
I watched the antics of the RNC last night and it made me want to weep for my country.

As Mathew Henry said in his commentaries on the Book of Jeremiah, "There are none so blind as those that will not see".

Nothing more. Words simply fail me.

 
It's been a rough week.

Moiya has settled in beautifully at daycare. They are very sweet with her and she seems quite taken with them. Then only drawback seems to be weekends, when for reasons unknown to her, we throw her schedule all out of whack. Man! I thought the dog and myself got stroppy when our schedules changed. The two of us are pikers compared to the Moiya-girl.

And of course, as we were warned, it was no time at all before she picked up a bug. Whatever it was didn't seem to lay her too low, a little fever and a tummy upset (although I now know what an "up-the-back diaper" is) -- nothing a little baby tylenol couldn't cope with. But of course it knocked Mom and Dad down like a brick. Jacquelyn still has her cough a week later.

In fact overall, Jacquelyn had a worse week than I did, I think. Last Monday, in the wee hours of the morning as she was taking Moiya to daycare, she hit a deer. This is a very rural area and such things are non utterly unexpected. But there was the threefold shock of having a wreck, having a wreck with her baby in the car, and killing a living thing.

I think the last two were the worst for her. Fortunately the baby slept through the entire incident, so it was obvious she wasn't much traumatised by the incident. But the death of the deer really got to her. They are such pretty creatures, and innocent. And sudden death is such an ugly thing. There was apparently blood everywhere, and "chunks" of deer caught in the grill. Thank God the deer was killed. If it had been maimed and in pain, I'm sure she'd have had an even harder time of it.

If you've only seen pictures of deer, or only seen them at a distance, you really have no sense of how large they really are. I've been about 15 feet away and these things are the size of a small horse. A direct strike at 65 would total your car. Fortunately this was a corner strike... but it's still going to cost a fair amount to restore the hood and fender and headlight.

Anyway. The police officer showed up finally.. whereupon according to Jacquelyn Moiya woke and and proceded to "flirt shamelessly" with him. This tnedency will bear watching as she gets older, no doubt.

A few days later I was congratulating myself on being the sole healthy member of the household when, as I was getting ready for work, I proceded to decorate the bathroom with my breakfast. But the following morning I was running 103.3 and Jacquelyn was packing ice around me to bring the fever down.

I was raised in the old school... we sweated the fever out with lots of blankets. But this is apparently no longer in line with current medical thinking. Ice is the thing these days. The challenge however is in getting an extremely stubborn, cranky, little man with extreme chills to hold still whilst you peel away his nice warm blankets and pour ice over him.

Apparently I "scream like a woman"

 
That Good Night

My little girl did not have a good night last night. She does not understand weekends and only knows them as disruptions to her routines. And when her routine has been disrupted, getting her to sleep at night is a long, slow slog.

I wish my Dad was here to see her. He's be so proud.

I think of him at the strangest times. Like him (and like Moiya), I don't easily go to sleep at day's end. For exactly that reason: it is the day's end. Naps are fine. Naps you indulge and enjoy and then the day goes merrily on.

But if I close my eyes at night, when I open them again it is a new day and the old one is gone forever. I hate that turning loose... that giving up of something that cannot be gotten back. I hated it as a child, and now in my fifties I hate it just the same if not more.

And so as I watched my little girl fighting sleep.. flailing her little arms and legs to try to fend it off -- I had to smile at the recognition of the impulse. And I was suddenly reminded of the line from Dylan Thomas
"Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And I remembered what my Mom had said of Dad's last trip to the hospital as he was dying. How when she turned away to get a wheelchair for him she turned back to find him struggling to fight his way up and out of the car with his failing strength. And how she couldn't understand why he wouldn't wait for the wheelchair.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light

And I know why. And I see it in my daughter, fighting off sleep. And I smile. Dad would have been so proud.

As I say.. I think of him at odd times.

 
Moiya Smiles!

Another small clip. Pretty fun stuff for a $30 camera from WalMart and the free movie editor in Windows!

Smiles.wmv

 
Moiya Movie
Had to put the baby in front of the web cam. Of course she decided to just sit there like a lump... but that's always the way. Cute things only happen when the camera is off. But this was done the day after she arrived here. I just wanted to be able to show her herself in later years. It's a part of the Tardis I'm building for her. This clip has been "dumbed down" to a small file size. The one she will one day see is of higher quality.
moiya comes home.wmv

 
We lost some battles

We have won the war.....

We are home and starting to settle in. All is still very much up in the air. But at least.. and at long last... we have made a start.

Innisfree is delighted. She has waited a long time for a family. And her sense of fullfillment is palpable. The critters are, as always, sweet. They have basically been on their own for 2.5 months, and to their credit have only begun to "go native" the last 2-3 weeks. Their training is a little hazy. But it is still there, and time will sort that out.

Moiya is in NO way threatened by the fur racing all around her. The Simon doesn;t care (Moiya can't pet her), The Duncan is fascinated (she sits and either stares or sniffs) and the Wicker thinks we brought home a baby just for her. If the baby cries, she sits outside the door and cires too. If we cant hear the baby cry, she will race back and forth between us and the baby like Lassie, until we check on her.

Basically, our lives are still utter chaos. But we are all HOME. The family is finally, utterly, together.

 
"Thus began our longest journey together."
Harper Lee - To Kill a Mockingbird

Just got word from our Indiana lawyer moments ago. The seige is over.
We can go home.
We can go home.
We can go home.

 

On This Day in History
I want my daughter to look back on this journal and see more of the summer of 2004 than the angst surrounding her entry into our lives. Life goes sweetly ever on, whether we will it or no, in good times and in bad, without regard to our petty problems. So here are a few snaps to show what Innisfree has been up to in our absence.
	The onions and garlic and beans did not fare well. But the okra and tomatoes are very happy. Thus far I've put up 3 big freezer bags of okra nad cherry tomatoes. And I've canned 7 quarts of tomatoes. Canning is pure magic to me. How amazing to open a jar in winter and smell the freshness of summer. More of the "time standing still" stuff I love so well!
	The lilly bed we planted last year, though sparse, has returned. Now that I know what will grow in that bed, I've more on order and will be planting in bulk in fall. Stay tuned for this time next year!
The cuttings I took and rooted from my Father-In-Law's willow trees have grown from cuttings (which I put into the ground when we got Moiya) into young trees.
	If all else dies, we can always grow black-eyed susans, and oregano. Massive blasts of Round Up simply make them smack their lips and exclaim "Mmmm! Spicey!"
	Woah! Serious expense, Dudes! We bought a crib! The devil to transport and assemble (especially with two cats "helping") it seems bigger than our own bed. It will (supposedly) convert in due time to a toddler bed, a day bed, and an full-size bed. Winnie the Pooh bedding on mobile may be less attractive then...
	And of course, here's the reason I'm up late writing this drivel..

 
The Message

Got one of my periodic "messages" this afternoon, just after I put the girl down for her nap. "Gather your belongings" it said. "The end draws near."

Weird to be on the recieving end of this sort of thing... but I have never been steered wrong since I began listening.

The siege will end this week. Depend on it.

 
Kentucky Hostage Crisis Day 73

Well.. the assurances we were given week before last that we would be home by last weekend turned out to be worth every bit as much as all the other assurances we've received.

The seige continues into its TWELVTH WEEK with no end it sight. We are both back to work this week, so it's another mad emergency scramble to keep everything together. Wicker will have to go into storage again, whilst the cats, bunny, and house fend for themselves. We had hoped to be out of here at least by the time my In-Laws return from Hungary this weekend.. but that is now very much in doubt.

We have heard that the papers have been sent to Frankfort.. but there they appear to be languishing on some faceless functionary's desk. If they are ever approved, they must then go to Indianapolis for Indiana approval....

 
Day 64
More baby pics

Sleeping Like a Baby


Chewing Daddy's Hand


Who..Me?

 
Baby Smiles and Kitty Love

Life just keeps getting weirder. As Jacq's has to be back at work this week, I've got to do a lot of shuttling. She takes Moiya to work with her at 3 and I pick her up after I get off at 4 and drive her back to Lawrenceburg. This leaves our four-footed girls pretty much on their own for now, except for today and Thursday when I have to prep new class (which I can do at home... at least till three when I still have to go get Moiya). So this morning I took Wicker in to be groomed and boarded. She loves our vet and the staff, so she was excited to go on a car ride AND see her friends. But dear Lord! If I thought that the house was empty before!

Innisfree is getting unhappy. You can tell when you walk in the front door. The spirit of the place is growing faint and morose. She wants her children home.

Laid down a few minutes back intending to take a 30 minute nap. Studying manauls aboout color calibration of computere monitors tends to make me sleepy and I've found that a short nap is more effective than fighting it. I was a little leery. The last time I laid down for a nap I laid on a wasp that had crawled in for.. I supposed a wasp siesta.. I don't know. This time, no wasp.

But shortly I felt hot breath and purring in my ear. Under other circumstances this might have been pretty nice. But since I knew I was alone with two cats....
I pretended to be asleep, hoping Simon would give up, but no dice. First she pretty much stuck her nose in my mouth (she isn't happy till she can smell your breath). So I petted her and scratched her ears. Then she decided to groom me.

This is really pretty big stuff to cats.. the ultimate expression of affection. So I hate to fend her off for fear of hurting her feelings. I mean... she doesn;t even groom Duncan. Hell, she doesn;t even groom herself. But here she was, studiously licking my left ear. Most have been pretty dirty, because 15 mintues later, I still had a cat tongue working furiously in my ear (raspy little thing, too). I tried to slowly roll over, to move my ear out of reach, but Simon just kept stretching. So now I'm lying on my back with a cat lying full length across my face, vigorously cleaning out my ear. And I got the giggles.

Do these things happen to other people?

Finally got my ear out of reach, so she started on my nose and eyebrows. I finally sat up when the inside of my nose looked likely for a show of kitty affection. :)

On the other end of my universe...

Moiya has learned to smile. Not smile like she does when she's pooping or has gas -- real smiles. And she knows me now. I talk to her every day by phone when I'm away, and it seems to have helped. When I pick her up and look in her eyes and talk to her she just grins hugely at me. And of course I melt. Now that Mommy is working nights again, Moiya and I have been on our own at bath time. I don;t do things as well as Mum apparently, but she mostly forgives me as long as I sing Gilbert and Sullivan to her whilst I warm her up after (she likes the bath, but does NOT like coming ouot into the cold, cold air). And she takes lots of naps on Daddy's tummy while he reads.

Hmm.. clean ears and baby smiles. Despite everything, life can;t be all that bad, I guess.

 
Digging In
 
Every time I think it can't get any worse,  fate tinkles on our heads again.
 
As of 2 p.m. today,  Kentucky decided that it wants a social worker to go and interview the birth-mother and write a report. Then when they get that bit of paper they will want to review all the materials again. Then God only knows what new hoops there will be to jump through or what the idiot lawyer will lose, forget to do, or screw up.
 
And this is not for the adoption. This is only to let Indiana take over the adoption process.
 
We're not sure what to do now or how we will cope. Jacquelyn is out of leave time and must return to work on Monday at 40 hrs per week, so I have to cover looking after the baby rather than the critters. We cannot afford to board to dog for what now seems to be an indefinate period (we've been given so many time estimates -- all wrong -- that we've given up trying to plan around them). The Indiana daycare is holding open their last  slot for us, but will only do so for so long. 
 
I don't know where we go from here. I've always told Jacquelyn that and Irishman's revenge is just to "outlast all the other bastards."  And I guess that's what we have to do now, if only we can figure out how.  We have faith, but no more cheer or optimism left. 
 
I do have a fair amount of pissiness and spite left however. It may be "whistling in the dark", but at least it is something.  And of course there is always gallows humor. I've always thought that anything you couldn't laugh at was sure to beat you in the end. (And while I don't feel like laughing, I really don't like to be beaten).
 
Long ago I made a battle standard for myself. I've never shared it, but I've carried it inside for goodly while. Now seems a good time to raise it up for our little family.  Lord only knows what the Gaelic actually says. With my facility for foreign languages, probably something like "My giant avacado poops horse blankets."
 
But I meant it to say:
"Lose a Battle.
 Win the War"
 

 
And somehow we will......

 
"I Have a Little List.."
 
We're currently trying to form a list of evertything the Kentucky lawyerhas screwed up. When it is done, I may publish it here.  The general idea is to have things in wiriting in case this eventually proceeds to lawsuit.  Our current thinking is that he's dragging this out deliberately in order to be able to add additional charges. If that happens... look out!
 
This is the last week that Jacquelyn can take off work.. tjhis toad has used up all of her family leave. Not sure what we will do week after next, but we'll work something out.  As Jacquelyn said, faith has gotten us this far, it can get us a little further.
 
The latest debacle is that we found out from the officials in Frankfort, that lawyer Green failed to ever do anything towards having my Mother-In-Law appointed Moiya's guardian.  This was to have been done essentially at her birth, and now everything must come to a screaming halt whilst we back up and try to fix this latest gaffe.  (Of course it also means that my baby has no guardian and we've been breaking the law by taking her to the doctor).  Hopefully by the end of next week the guardian issue will be settled and the paperework can proceed forward again.
 
I'll be posting this guy's name and address here once this is all over, BTW. ;)
 
 

 
Day 53

 
Friendship

Sorry I haven't written much of late. Until last Friday I was laid up with food poisoning (or so we now believe). We need not linger on the details. Suffice it to say that in the middle of a lecture I was suddenly seized with the need to vomit out both ends at once.. and did.

We will now draw the curtain over that scene....

So for a week I was incommunicado. I could not venture near my baby for fear of killing her (all I knew at the time was that I had diarrhea, which can be fatal to newborns). I missed my chance to see my girls (which is what I live for during the rest of the week) and ended up alone and miserable, spewing evil things out both ends 24/7

But I was not entirely alone.

I woke from a particularly evil fever-dream to find a furry, purring friend at my side. Simon (aka Outdoor Kitty) had taken residence up next to me in my sick bed. I didn't consider it peculiar until I rose to go downstairs to the bathroom and found that A) Wicker had taken up residence next to the bed and B) They both followed me down to the bathroom, sat outsidethe door, then preceeded my back up the stairs and were both back in position by the time I hauled my ailing frame back into bed.

Neither animal left my side for five days. They were there when I awoke.. when I slept.. when I got up, and when I returned. For five days they did not let me out of their sight, no matter what. When I awoke in the night, one or the other was always there, silent, warm, and reassuring.

The one and ONLY time they left my side, they left together (to get food, I would guess). And within seconds, Duncan took up position in Simon's place... and stayed there until Simon returned. At the changing of the guard, Duncan groomed Simon's ears and the two lay placidly next to me for a time, then Duncan padded off to take up her station in the chair just outside the bedroom, and Simon resumed guarding me. Wicker simply circled the bed throughout.. the first line of defence, it seems.

Eerie, really. No words spoken... yet all three animals seemed to have had my care and a schedule worked out between them.

Weirdest of all... on the morning that my fever broke.. after five days of never ever leaving my side, without a sound, Simon and Wicker both got up and left me to go back to their usual hangouts (Simon on a chair in the dining room and Wicker on the air vent under the dining room table).

The danger past, they no longer needed to stand guard.

I am.. and continue to be.. most humble in the presence of animals. For loyalty and all the best "human" qualities we would like (and so often fail) to see in oursleves, they have no equal. God bless them, and God grant me the ability to give to my daughter the gift to see our fellow creatures the way I see them. I have no greater riches to impart.

My in-laws (fond though I am of them) do not believe in pets.. animals are to be used or dispatched(a common country sentiment). God forgive me if I do not raise my child in a home full of animals. I cannot conceive of anything so sterile and sad... unless it is a home without books.

Funny thing.. most homes I've seen which purport to raise kiddos sans books also raise them sans critters.

God help such children. And God forgive such parents.

Money cannot buy the sort of riches these goofy, fuzzy beasts give me each and every day. And I cannot wait to introduce my daughter to the wonders of this wider world.

 
Knock, Knock!

Last night something astonishing happened... though thus far I've not been able to put it into words and people (including my beloved) just laugh at me. But it truely was a purely electric moment.

I was playing with my daughter on the floor, and she was looking around and cooing and kicking and all that baby stuff.

And as I was looking into her little fuzzy eyes, just for a moment -- somebody looked back.

Whoah!

 
I have Spun a Tale for You

Whew. So much to catch up. It will take me a few days. Lots of pics to share once I've processed them for the web.

Bad news: the birth mother (figuring, I suppose that she had washed her hands of things) failed to appear for an appt with the KY lawyer. (The Indiana folks have already gotten everything done, note) Jacq. fortunately was calling and keeping after him, or matters would have gone on forever. He claimed hee "couldn't contact her." So Jacq's mother picked up the phone and the probelm was resolved in about five minutes.

But still he lags behind. We are now at the beginning of month number two. The critters have forgotten any other life.. and I nearly have. We were hoping to have Moiya home by the 4th of July. Now we are lookig at the week after. We continue as refugees.

I would say what I think of the KY lawyer... but my mother reads this. I will merely point out that KY is also a lubricant...

In the mean time.. being on my own I have time to ponder. I've bought a web cam. My Dad (at my request) made three 90 minute audio tapes for me before he died. And Jacq. has been after me to begin the same sort of thing for Moiya. I started recording, but for $30 more, I can record pictures as well as sound. My recordings will go on a DVD with my Dad's, lots of family photos, and the charts from www.caindyer.com

This is my gift to my sweet baby girl. For the Doctor Who-enabled few of you... this is my Tardis that I leave behind for my baby so that she can -- someday-- go back in time and review these days. I look forward so much to holding her up before the camera and saying "This is you when you first came home."

It just doesn't get any better than that.

OK... gotta get some lunch and sleep now. Events will come later, as will pics. In the mean time, here's a little something for my daughter. Verse is from a song I learned as a child and never ever forgot. (In fact, I sang it to her on the very first night that I held her in my arms. I must think it's important or something, eh?)

Pics (few as they are) are by me.

 
Oh Dear!

I never thought I would cite a ref from the street-trollop known as Madonna. But this was on target:

"My children have to clean up their mess, clean up their rooms," she said. "Manners, 'thank you,' 'please,' 'take your dishes to the sink.' I mean ... gratitude, being grateful -- that is -- that has to happen. .. If it's traditional to be a decent human being, then I'm traditional."

Hmmm.... Madonna makes sense. One of the seven signs of the coming of the apocalypse

 
A Tale of Two Cities

I should also like to mention that both our lawyer (whom I met yesterday) and our social worker have been wonderful. Both are kind, pleasant, and very, very efficient. I feel much better about this whole process for having met them.

Now the Kentucky lawyer is another matter. All of the misinformation and reversals and confusion thus far (and delay... he suddenly decided in the midst of all this to go on vacation) have been down to him.

And that just is perfectly in keeping with our general experiences on this side of the river. Any time we have dealings with entities on both sides of the river, we are struck by the difference in attitude and approach. I used to think it was me, but Jacq. has noticed it too.

Case in point: last week I had to get a copy of my 1981 divorce decree. I had to go to Louisville in the hottest part of a June afternoon, park a few blocks distant (there isn't much parking downtown) and walk to the govt. building. "Nope." I was told when I explained what I wanted. "Ya go back out them doors, down about two blocks, turn left, and up the alley you'll see a red brick building."

So off I went. And at the aforementioned building, I was told first that I had the wrong office ("This is office 5. You want office 101.") and then that I had the wrong building. "Go back out through them doors behind you and go about three blocks east..."

Before it was all over, I had been shunted to no less than 6 different buildings and 10 different offices. At last I was told that the records I wanted weren't kept in Louisville at all, but were stored in Frankfort. But if I would walk a few blocks more I could place an order for them and they would call when it arrived.

Fortunately, that was as true as everything else I was told. I finally stumbled into a closet-like basement office dripping sweat literally in a pool around me, and told a surly black lady what i was there for. She went into another tiny room, there was the hum of a copy machine, and she returned with my document, for which she demanded 25 cents. I almost kissed her, but she looked like she would have knifed me.

Nevertheless, I salute her with all my heart.

Meanwhile, I had to get a copy of my more recent divorce decree and our marriage license in Indiana. I went to the Harrison county courthouse (which was sweltering) where they have only one little computer and lots of dusty books. Quite a change from the many gleaming and well-appointed government offices I'd seen in Louisville. I told a very pleasant young woman what i wanted and she pulled out a huge, dusty tome nearly larger than herself, turned a few pages, went away... and six minutes later I had both documents in hand, both notarized.

And she was pleasant to boot!

When we needed a replacement for our SSN cards, we drove out to New Albany and found the nearest Social Security office (the social security admin runs a VERY usable and helpful website, BTW) expecting the worst. It was the usual Indiana government office.. small and a little threadbare, with old fashioned equipment. There were many people ahead of us.

Seven minutes later we were being served.

The very pleasant lady behind the counter managed our paperwork and told us we would receive our cards in a few weeks. I guess we must have looked pretty stricken. We explained that we needed them for an adoption and she immediately went and made out two official temporary cards, signed and sealed, with signed authentication documents in case anyone questioned them.

We told her that, had we not already chosen a name for our baby, we'd have named her in her honor. The clerk laughed and said she was just glad she'd made somebody happy that day.

I just love Indiana. I can't wait to bring our little girl back home.

 
The Blessings of St. Paxil

Wow.

I was off my meds for awhile. I didn't realise it, as I take rather a number of pills each evening, which Jacq. puts in my little pill-minder. But it seems that I had run out of my "crazy meds".

The first hint I had was a slight irritability. But hell... with all that's going on now, that's hardly something unusual, yeah? But then the headaches started... and the dreadful, stomach-twisting dizziness, and the alternating chills and fever. I was sure that I was coming down with the flu.

Then day before yesterday, I noticed something; There was a story on NPR about a steamboat that caught fire 100 years ago, killing lots of children. I started crying in the car. "Well" I thought, "I've got a baby now, so I'm more affected." Then the next day they ran a story on Lance Armstrong, the bicycle racer. They talked about him fighting charges of using performance-enhancing drugs. And I burst into tears.

This was odd, as I don't like Lance Armstrong.

I don't dislike him either, but that's hardly the point.

Then I was railing on the phone to Jacq. about how I was going punch somebody in the face.. and afterwards I teared up in our meeting with our lawyer.. this time for no reason I could discern (except maybe the amount of the check)

Then the kicker: when I'm very very stressed, I cause lightbulbs to blow out. No joke.. I've known this for years. It isn;t really that odd or that unusual. My former mother-in-law couldn;t wear digital watches because they malfunctioned each time she put them on.

Well, I blow light bulbs.

When my father died, every single lightbulb in our house blew in the space of a few hours. My ex-wife made me stay away from the stereo and our computer. Yesterday I noticed that in our entire downstairs, ther were three bulbs left; one in each room. Within a 48 hour period, 9 bulbs blew out. While I was noticing this, another one popped off just over my head.

Fortunately Jacq. (Who is more savvy than me)knew that I was registered in the Walgreens computers. I stopped at one I passed on the road, gave them my phone number, and within 10 minutes I had a refill. (Take THAT Luddittes!) I porked pills in my face, fell soundly asleep, and woke this morning -- not cheerful -- but better. I have neither wept nor raged all day (though I am still dizzy).

The mind is its own place, and in itself, can make heaven of Hell, and a hell of Heaven~Milton~


Ok... gotta go now. The Wicker had a MASSIVE digestive upset (I think she had been sneaking mouthfuls of the rabbit's food) and even though she was diapered, she left a foul-smelling brown trail all over the house. The last night I found a masterpiece; she had had such a huge.. um.. outpouring of diarrhea that it has run all the way across the dining room floor and puddled on the opposite side.

So.. I have some cleaning to do.

 
The Long Exile

Hard to remember what it was like when we lived at home and the days were moderately ordered and life had some sense of routine.

We remain refugees from our own home still, waiting on Kentucky to let us take our baby home. It will, we learned yesterday, be still at least another two weeks of this twilight existence. The lonliness and dispiritedness between times of being with my two girls is hard on all parties. But we will endure simply because there is no other option. We've faced down worse before, and doubtless will again.

To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite;
To forgive wrongs darker than death or night;
To defy Power, which seems omnipotent;
To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates;
Neither to change, nor falter, nor falter, nor repent;
This like thy glory, Titan, is to be
Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free;
This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory

~Shelly~

 
Baptism by Fire

Well, if we didn't feel like "real" parents before (though I think that is such twaddle) we surely do now! Owing to a bad reaction to a change in formula, Moiya (we are thinking of adding the "i" to her name) was up screaming all night. Poor little thing was having terrible tummy cramps and Jacquelyn was in tears of frustration at not being able to make it all better. She seemed to think this made her "worthless" as a mother, but it only cemented my belief that I found the perfect mother for my baby.

Anyway, we didn't get her to stop crying and finally sleep until 3:30 a.m. (starting a 9 or so). So we're a little knackered today. I'm back here at Innisfree trying to haul rubbish away and make ready for the eventual homecoming of Mother and child. Hauled out 10 sacks of stuff yesterday (and repaired the destroyed lamp and phone cords that Hetty had been secretly "improving" under the couch) and hope to do as much today.

The fuzzy girls have been wonderful.. though left on their own for extended periods they have been angels. Jacquelyn and I discussed their probabable reaction to the new arrival and have arrived at the following conclusions:

Wicker (after she pees herself) will joyfully accept Moiya as one of the "Big Dogs". Wicker considers herself and us as the Big Dogs and so tries to do what we do... in much the same way that Duncan tries to emulate her big sis. We've noticed that at night, Wicker now tries to pull the pillow shams onto herself, so she can be covered in sleep like we are. So she'll have a "Little Big Dog" to mother and will try to follow our lead.

Duncan will try to groom her. She now grooms everybody who will hold still long enough. She is a very sweet and loving soul.

Simon will be terrified (for now).

And Hettie will only pause from her restructuring of electrical cords (not really... I've encased them all in sheathing by now) to say "HEY! Somebody pet my head, dammit!"

What an eye opener! I never thought I'd know such things, much less say them (and apologies to the delicate among you) but it IS possible to hold a baby whilst taking a wee. And my wife has now taught me to clean ... erm... bits.. of my little girl that it NEVER occurred to me would need cleaning.

Golly! So many things the nuns never prepared me for! I hardly had my seat belt fastened when this ride took off!

And I am so, so loving it:)

 
Sometimes words are just superfluous..

 
"Great events make me quiet and calm; it is only trifles that irritate my nerves"
~Queen Victoria~

I should be rather insane at the moment. Anything that changes my routine tends to make me tense and snappish (like dogs). But I am oddly serene.

I used to think that this tendency to be perfectly calm and collected -- say when a loved one dies -- indicated something dreadful about me... that there was some void where my heart should be. It used to worry me greatly when I was young.

But wisdom comes with age, they say. Actually, the truth is you just get tired of worrying about things... you surrender. (Or you just don't give a damn any longer). I've come to the conclusion that I am just a practical man... in times of crisis, there is no room for nerves. Things need to be done. People depend on you.

And then there is the matter of faith. When something happens that you always knew would happen.. and happens the way you knew it would.. well then! Why should there be surprise?

We have a daughter now.

Let me say that again. We have a daughter. Jacqueline is even now driving to pick her up from the hospital, and I am here taking care of the wee beasts and trying to prepare the house for the newest child of Innisfree.

I think I have mentioned that each of us here on this blessed isle is a refugee. Each of us has been in some way discarded or unwanted. That is the magic of this place that it whispered to me when I first came here. This is where the bruised and alone come to find rest and peace and belonging. Innisfree spreads her wings over us all. "And I shall find some peace there" is the Yeats line that intruded into my head when I first walked these grounds, and for that reason she was named.

And now another has come home.

Got a call yesterday from Jacquelyn as I was on my way out to lunch at work. Her mother knew of people whose granddaughter wanted to place her newborn up for private adoption. Were we interested?

I have resisted other offers. And we have tried repeatedly to have kiddos without success. And now is not necessarily a good time.. and a hundred worries and queries and questions ran through my mind in an instant.

And then I felt the hand that I felt when I considered not leaving YPAS. I heard the voice so clearly then. It said "How many times must I hold open this door for you?" I've never questioned that voice since.

It has led me into some interesting things.. and places and decisions that others have questioned. But mostly it has promised. It has smiled when I was on the right path, and shepherded me back when I strayed. At each lost opportunity or worry, it has been reassuring. "I have promised you" it said.

And yesterday, at 11:30, without words, it said "See how all things I have told you have come to pass."

And I said "Yes. Yes, we are interested."

So.. no shock.. just the quiet sense of promises fulfilled. Of pieces dropping into place. The sigh of coming home after a long journey.

I have a daughter. Shortly I will leave here and go to meet her. And she will bear the name that I always knew she would have:

Moya Kathleen Eagan

Stay tuned. Pictures will follow.

As W.C. Fields said, "It's a funny old world."

 
Zen and the Art of Ice Cube Chasing

I offer the following as an indication of the general weirdness of our household... and of the success of the "settling in" process. Humans, take note.

Firstly, our girls are decidedly odd. We accept that. Indeed, we glory in their weirdness. That just makes us all feel a greater sense of kinship. Take my pup, Wicker. I've been chewing ice cubes for as long as I can remember. Ever since I've had teeth, my mouth has craved the sensation of gnawing rocks of ice. Dentists scolded. Me Mum scolded. To no avail - an ice chewer I will always be (officially, any bad habit they haven't been able to drum out of you in 50 years becomes a lovable eccentricity and is therefore protected by law).

So what more natural than that I should have a dog who chews ice as well? One of the greatest accomplishements of my life (only guys will understand this) is owning a refrigerator that dispenses ice. Not just ice, mind you, but either cubes or crushed (Oooooh!). I prefer the crushed, but Wicker has a preference for the cubed. Any soul that dispenses ice will find a cocker psaniel at their feet, waiting impatiently for "her cut". She will take it from your hand (after examining it with infuriating care), but she much prefers to have it dropped on the ground, where she can "chase" it down. Today I watched her "chase' and ice cube the entire length of the house.. only to have it vanish under my great-grandmother's cabinet radio.

I didn't say she was good at this... only that she enjoyed it.

And of course, being a wuss, there I was crawling on the ground, getting her cube back for her.

Meanwhile....

I think I've mentioned that Duncan admires her big sis. Anything Wicker does, Duncan wants to do. This extends to eating one another's food, sleeping in one another's beds (neither of them will sleep in their own beds) and Duncan absolutely refuses to drink from her own water dish. I've known her to become parched -- in spite of there being a supply of fresh water in her own bowl -- because the dog's water has run out.

Now she's involved Simon (see pic at right of the two of them running in to drink at the dogs dish 30 seconds after I fill it).

Simon started out as one of Wicker's buddies. Back when she was feral (or at least unclaimed), when I took Wicker out in the mornings, Simon would trot along side, and the two used to spend a few minutes exchanging the smell-based "News of the Day".

But all that changed when Simon came indoors. Deprived of 180 degrees of escape, suddenly Wicker looked very large and very threatening. Simon spend lots of time hissing whenever approached.. by Wicker.. by dust bunnies.. you name it.

But time heals all wounds, and Simon has begun to settle in. I've already described how she is now a part of the "going to bed" ritual. In fact, she often beats Wicker upstairs and onto the bed. But even in the mornings she has begun to relax.

The old ritual was that I would come downstairs at 5 a.m. and make a pot of coffee and then lie on the living room sofa until 6 a.m., when I began to get ready to leave for work. Wicker always used to lie on the couch with me... until we got Simon. Then Simon and Wicker used to have a contest to see who could ask to lie on the couch first.

That lasted for awhile.. then enough of a truce was declared that the early applicant would lie closest to me, whilst the loser would lie on my feet.

Last week we turned another corner. Finding that Wicker had beaten her "to the punch" as it were, and was peacefully asleep on my lap, Simon simply walked up my leg, and over Wicker, lying down full length on top of her to be petted.

Wicker slept through the entire thing (of course). But I wish I could have gotten a pic; me, Wicker, and Simon in layers. And everybody quite content.

Random pics from the Isle of Innisfree:



"Watcha lookin' at?"


Started feeding the Weigelia cheap dog food... and it seems to like it!


If you want lavender, e-mail me. This bed is 15 feet long!


"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep..."

 
From the "Unlikely Sources of Inspiration Department"

I had this thought the other day whilst working in the garden:

One of my favorite shows is Red Dwarf (see the links section of my home page). It's a British comedy about the last surviving member of the human race who is marooned on a mining vessel 3 million years out in deep space with a hologram of his dead bunkmate, and a creature who evolved from the ship's cat. There's also Holly , the senile ship's computer, and Kryten, a service android the crew acquired when they answered a distress call.

It's a riotous and irreverent show.. very unusual and very funny in the offbeat way that only British comedies are. But as I worked the soil, 20 seconds of piquancy came back to me and made me smile.

It's right after Kryten has been rescued. His original master are dead, and he's having trouble adjusting to not having anyone left to serve. Lister (the human) asks if there isn;t anything he likes to do just for himself. Kryten says that he rather enjoys watching the soap opera "androids".. and sleeping.

And then, just for a moment, his face -- even under all the latex -- takes on an aching sweetness as he relates his one secret joy:

Kryten: "I have strange thoughts when I'm asleep."

Lister: "Yeah. They're called dreams."

Kryten: "My favorite one is that I'm in a garden. (pause) I've never even seen a garden, except in books... And I've planted everything.... made it grow. (longer pause) It's my garden, and there's no one there except me, and all the things I've made live."

I love that line.

Been hip-deep in dirt and mud and weeds and ticks (one of the joys of living in the country is getting to burn tick off of one another at night) off and on all week. Got more bulbs in, got most of the vegetable garden in -- with some improvements. Trying to grow beans and ocra and tomatoes this year (maybe spinach and onions and garlic too... we'll see). Not allowed to grow cucumbers, as we still have over 40 quarts of dill pickles I put up last year down in the cellar.

Man, I love canning. It's just miraculous. There's nothing more magical than opening a jar of tomatoes in the dead of winter and getting that smell... the smell of tomatoes freshly picked from the vine.. like a vivid memory. I don't know why commercially canned tomatoes don't have it, but they don't. And not a scrap goes to waste; after we've used the tomatoes, I'll drink the juice straight down. I don't even especially like tomato juice.. but this stuff is just awesome.

So... soon the harvest will start and I'll begin hauling out my big canning pot and boiling water and buying up new canning lids for my jars. Fortunately we live in a rural area, so the canning supply section a Wal-Mart is huge. Soon the magic begins again.

I guess I'm just easily amused.

Me and Kryten :)

 
Next up...
Diaper Dogs and Other Anomalies of Nature


Well, it seems that I've been guilty of libeling Simon the cat. We've been dealing with the "pee Problem" for awhile now; waking up to stumble downstairs to the coffee pot, only to wade into great, frigid pool of evil-smelling animal urine. At one point our house stank so badly we thought of getting a canary to test the air downstairs. Then it began upstairs. The carpet downstairs in the dining room was just ruined. There was so much urine so frequently that all the deodorizers and neutralizers I could buy ultimately threw their hands up in the air and surrendered. Same with the upstairs carpet. In some places, the urine had soaked through and into the floorboards, staining them a dark brown.

And yet we couldn;t find the culprit. All animals have the occasional "accident". Wicker is the worst.. it seems that pee and cocker spaniels just go together. And there was the infamous incident where Duncan deliberately peed in the middle of our bed (no... flooded is a better word) when she thought we were going away and leaving her with ex-friend Katie again (what the hell did that woman DO?) Wicker got whipped most often. Then for some reason, we began to suspect that it wasn;t her after all... something about the timing not being right.

Of course I felt awful... spent about a week trying to assuage my massive guilt at having punished the wrong party. Eventually we settled on Simon as the culprit, and I began reading all the cat books trying to figure things out. Was she ill? Did she object to sharing a litter box with Duncan? Was she making herself more comfortable in her new (and occasionally threatening) surroundings by making them "smell right"? We try to give Simon more slack, since her years outdoors and the vagaries of trying not to be mauled to deal by dog packs has made her a bit odd about a few things. I still have the scars where she decided one day that the end of my belt was a snake and tore into it. Also the scars from when she was in my lap and somebody -- no names mentioned -- let forth with a loud blast of intestinal gas. The poor cat leapt straight up into the air and didn't come down until she was a good ten feet distant. Unfortunately she took rather a large chunk of my leg with her. I still think of them as my "Fart Wounds."

Anyway.. to make a long story short.. we were right the first time.. it has been Wicker. She will only wake me at night when she needs to go out (who knows why... Jacquelyn calls me the "Pee Master") and if she can;t wake me... well....

We bought her a doggie litter box, which she never really got the hang of; she's stand next to it and let fly, seeming to thing that close was good enough. The cats loved it though... they took turns peeing in it and batting the littere pellets (and other things) all over the house. Not fun to step om in bare feet at 5 a.m. Jacquelyn also brought home "doggie diapers". In the grand tradition of my father, I groused and grumbled about how that was "the dumbest thing I ever heard of," and how it was gonna be "a cold day in hell before I'll put diapers on a damned dog. (grunmble, grumble).

And in the equally grand tradition of my father, I had to eat my own words as I finally got desperate enough to try them. The alternative was locking her up all night, and that just seemed wrong somehow. When we go to bed, the whole family (with the exception ofthe rabbit) have rituals to go through.. everyone troops up the stairs together. Everyone takes turns coming up and being petted goodnight. And everyone has their little corner of the bedroom to settle into - Duncan sleeps in the dog's bed at the foot of our bed, Wicker sleeps in the cat's bed at the head of our bed, and Simon sleep curled up on our toes.

Not having Wicker there just upset everybody (especially Duncan). So we tried the diapers. Sha-zam! Problem solved. She still wakes me up a 4 a.m. to go out.. but on the occasion that she doesn't make it that long....

And our house smells like the abode of humans again.

I may have to let the canary out.

 
Catching Up at Last

Whew! Been way too long since I posted last. Lots of short tidbits to tell. So for the next few days I'll be posting little groups of things. Starting now:

The Saga of Howard the Bat


I love my sweetie so much. She really is the one I’ve waited for my whole life.

The other night she called on her way home from work (a considerable drive) and nervously informed me that she was bringing home a “guest.” Once more she had come to the rescue of an innocent; there had been boys in the business parking lot, tormenting a bat, which they were preparing to kill. Jacquelyn protested, to which they replied that it was “ugly” (or gross.. I don’t remember). She ran them off and then captured the terrified creature and placed it in a box. She had done this once before when her coworkers were going to kill a forlorn praying mantis – which we subsequently released into the fields of Innisfree, and whose family I like to believe I see anytime I encounter one of these amazing creatures.

She wanted to name the bat “Howard”. This I refused to let her do. In my elder wisdom, I informed her that naming a creature destined to be released into the wild was an exercise in folly. She must not become attached, blah, blah, blah…

When she got home (late that night) I met her at the car and took command of the clear plastic box in which the bat was housed. I like bats. If you’ve been reading this any time at all, you will know that. I like all living things (with the possible exception of humans). I’ve loved and cherished as a gift of God seeing the flight of bats at dusk. It is an extraordinary thing. But I had never encountered a solitary bat close up until now.

We carried it carefully and spoke softly. And I was struck by how tiny and fragile and vulnerable it was…. Almost exactly the size of my thumb. I was also struck by his (her?) attitude and courage. As soon as I walked the box into the half-light of the side porch, he began to whack away at the plastic with his arms… demanding to be set free.

So I opened the lid and he fluttered off into the night. And Innisfree welcomed yet another refugee into the fold.

And contrary to my instructions to Jacquelyn I know that henceforth when I see the bats dancing in their twilight world, I’ll be thinking “There goes Howard.”

Oh Deere!

On a more prosaic note, our tractor broke down last week. So naturally the grass, sensing our vulnerability, put on a growth spurt and is now ankle-high. Jacquelyn called the Deere people, who came out and took it away for repair. When they brought it back yesterday afternoon, there was no “When will you be home to sign for this?” or “And how will you be paying?” They just deposited it on the front lawn, exactly where they had picked it up, stuck a bill in the front door, and left.

I love Indiana! It’s just light-years away from the suspicious, hierarchical, snotty world of Louisville.

(Oh… and despite having fetched it, brought it back, fixed it, and overhauled all the systems, the charge was only $200. $20 labor)

Mindy

I hope she won’t mind my sharing this. But I thought it was typically sweet of her. Was on the phone to my friend Ellen the other night, and she told me that at the YPAS reunion (see earlier entries) that a number of people had been rather mean to Paige Davis (Trading Spaces) apparently because she didn’t remember them or remember them with sufficient importance. Ellen said that Mindy (for she will always be Mindy to me, as she was when I was making costumes for her at age 15) was quite upset by this, and that made me feel bad. So one night I fired off a quick note of general sympathy, and pointing out that YPAS has always treated its best and brightest like crap. She was ill treated then and they haven’t changed. But that some of us were proud of her then, as now. Just ‘cause she’s always been such a good kid. (and she really is just like she appears on TV). Didn’t really expect to hear back; I understand she’s preparing to take on the role of Roxy in a Broadway production of Chicago. But in a few hours I received the following.:

You can't imagine what your email meant to me. Your words of encouragement have always meant so much to me. I felt your support 20 years ago, and in true form to who YOU are I feel your support now. You are an incredible teacher, mentor and friend. Thank you.
Love, Mindy Paige

Rubbish, of course. But very, very sweet. Like I said, she’s always been a special kid

 
SHAME!

This is not a politcal statement, though I'm sure it will be seen as such by some.

I have just learned that some television stations (all owned by a particular conservative media group) have decided that Americans need to be protected from their war dead. Therefore they will be blocking tonight's edition of Nightline in which the names of our heroic dead will be read in tribute to their sacrifice.

I do not understand this. First we are told that our young men and women must come home under cover of darkness. No pictures allowed. No memorials raised. We are told that our president, for the first time in tha past 100 years, will not be attending any service or honor for the fallen. And now we are not even to be allowed to know their names?

Why? Did they do something wrong? Something shameful?

I thought these were heros. I still do. I want to know who they were. I've spent rather a lot of time in training sessions at the Army and Air Force Reserves... and at Ft. Knox. I like these folks.. I am comfortable with them. And I am comfortable with very few people. Last week, Army folks made me brownies.. and bought me lunch.

Why can I not know which of them died in my name?

Let me repeat: they died IN MY NAME.

Whether you supported the initial invasion or not (and I did not) our people are there now and we need to support them to the fullest.

But apparently it has to be a secret.

Are we living in Teran? I'm sorry... I thought this was the United States. My mistake, I guess.

But then, I always thought that being an American was something pretty special...soething more than just an accident of locale and birth. I awlays thought that it required a special courage and a special outlook and a special sense of tolerance. I thought it was this that made "Americanism" different from "Nationalism". Hell, even the Nazis loved their country... nationalism is common as dirt. Americanism used to be special and different.

I guess I didn't realise that we operated by the same rules as South American bananna republics.

But even Bananna Dictatorships honor those who give thier lives to serve.

Past generations honored the names of the dead on monuments. I've been to "The Wall" in D.C. to honor those of my genration who died. I've seen monuments to the Korean dead, Civil War dead, and WWI. I was raised on tales of the glorious sacrifice of our fallen in WWII.

But these men cannot be remembered. These men are to be forgotten and hidden away in the name of political expediency? We are not to be allowed to speak or hear their name their names? Shame!.

So here they are, current as of today. Read them with honor. Read them with praise or with sorrow. Salute them (God knows they earned that). But READ THEM.

They died for YOU. The least you can do is damned well acknowledge their existence:

KILLED IN ACTION IN IRAQ

ALABAMA
MC LCPL Sims, John T. Jr. 21 Alexander City
A SPC Taylor, Christopher M. 25 Daphne
A SGT Jordan, Jason D. 24 Elba
A SGT Conneway, Timothy M. 22 Enterprise
A SPC Haight, Charles G. 23 Jacksonville
A SPC Cason, Ahmed A. 24 McCalla
A PFC Johnson, Howard II 21 Mobile
A CWO2 Johnson, Philip A. Jr. 31 Mobile
A SPC Hiller, Stephen D. 25 Opelika
A PFC Brown, John E. 21 Troy
A SGT Bell, Aubrey D. 33 Tuskegee
A PVT Prewitt, Kelley S. 24

ALASKA
A PVT Falaniko, Jonathan I., 20, Pago Pago

ARIZONA
A PVT Falaniko, Jonathan I. 20 Pago Pago
A SPC Campoy, Isaac 21 Douglas
A CPT Paliwoda, Eric T. 28 Goodyear
A SSG Latham, William T. 29 Kingman
N LT White, Nathan D. 30 Mesa
MC SGT Padilla-Ramirez, Fernando 26 San Luis
A CSM Cooke, Eric F. 43 Scottsdale
A SPC Merila, Michael M. 23 Sierra Vista
A PFC Piestewa, Lori Ann 23 Tuba City
MC LCPL Zurheide, Robert P. Jr. 20 Tuscon
A SPC Karol, Spencer T. 20 Woodruff
MC LCPL Williams, Michael J. 31 Yuma

ARKANSAS
A SFC Labadie, William W. Jr. 45 Bauxite
A PFC Cheatham, Jonathan M. 19 Camden
A CPT Felder, Arthur L., 36, Lewisville
N HM3 Johnson, Michael Vann Jr. 25 Little Rock
A MSG Morehead, Kevin N. 33 Little Rock
MC PFC Smith, Brandon C. 20 Washington

CALIFORNIA
N LT Jones-Huffman, Kyle A. 31 Aptos
MC PFC Ayon, Eric A. 26 Arleta
A PFC Mizener, Jesse D. 24 Auburn
A SSG Perry, David S. 36 Bakersfield
A SGT Haromarin, Atanacio 27 Baldwin Park
MC 1LT Palmer, Joshua M. 25 Banning
A SPC Mora, Jose L. 26 Bell Gardens
A PFC Acosta, Steven 19 Calexico
A SPC Clark, Arron R. 20 Chico
MC CPL Silva, Erik H. 22 Chula Vista
MC CPL Garibay, Jose A. 21 Costa Mesa
MC LCPL Shuder, Brad S. 21 El Dorado
MC CPT Gannon, Richard J. II 31 Escondido
MC LCPL Suarez Del Solar, Jesus 20 Escondido
A SPC Acosta, Genaro 26 Fair Oaks
MC LCPL Dang, Andrew S. 20 Foster City
MC CPL Layfield, Travis J. 19 Fremont
A SPC Ravago, Rel A. IV 21 Glendale
A SPC Chappell, Jason K. 22 Hemet
MC LCPL Cherry, Marcus M. 18 Imperial
MC CPL Gonzalez, Jesus A. 22 Indio
N LT Adams, Thomas M. 27 La Mesa
MC SSG Walker, Allan K. 28 Lancaster
A PFC Lau, Karina S. 20 Livingston
MC PFC Torres, George D. 23 Long Beach
MC CPL Gonzalez, Jorge A. 20 Los Angeles
MC LCPL Gutierrez, Jose 22 Los Angeles
A SFC Marshall, John W. 50 Los Angeles
MC PFC Martinez-Flores, Francisco A. 21 Los Angeles
A SSG Menyweather, Eddie E. 35 Los Angeles
A SSG Burdick, Richard A. 24 National City
A SGT Tainsh, Patrick S. 33 Oceanside
A SSG Bertolino, Stephen A. 40 Orange
MC SSG Harrell, William M. 30 Placentia
A SGT Mitchell, Michael W. 25 Porterville
A SGT Jenkins, Troy David 25 Ridgecrest
A 2LT Bryant, Todd J. 23 Riverside
A PVT Silva, Sean A. 23 Roseville
A CPL Grilley, Sean R. 24 San Bernardino
A SGT Miersandoval, Eliu A. 27 San Clemente
MC 1LT Jimenez, Oscar 34 San Diego
A SPC Ramirez, Eric U. 31 San Diego
MC CPL Rosacker, Randal Kent 21 San Diego
A SSG Velazquez, Paul A. 29 San Diego
MC GYSGT Menusa, Joseph 33 San Jose
MC LCPL Crowley, Kyle D. 18 San Ramon
A PFC Brattain, Joel K. 21 Santa Ana
A SPC Nakamura, Paul T. 21 Santa Fe Springs
A SPC Diraimondo, Michael A. 22 Simi Valley
MC CPL Gibson, Christopher A., 23, Simi Valley
MC LCPL O'Day, Patrick T. 20 Sonoma
A MAJ Taylor, Mark D. 41 Stockton
A SGT Wood, Brian M. 21 Torrance
A SPC Sheehan, Casey 24 Vacaville
MC SGT Bitz, Michael E. 31 Ventura
A SPC Hill, Christopher K. 26 Ventura
MC LCPL Wiscowiche, William J. 20 Victorville
A CPL Ashcraft, Evan Asa 24 West Hills
A SSG Rosaleslomeli, Victor A. 29 Westminster
A SFC Bolor, Kelly 37 Whittier
A SGT Hancock, Michael S. 29 Yreka
A SPC Chris, Andrew F. 25
A CWO4 Smith, Eric A. 41

COLORADO
A SGT Broomhead, Thomas F. 34 Cannon City
MC PFC Phelps, Chance R. 19 Clifton
A SSG Bader, Daniel A. 28 Colorado Springs
A SSG Lawton, Mark A. 41 Hayden
A SFC Rehn, Randall S. 36 Longmont
MC LCPL Slocum, Thomas J. 22 Thornton
A CPT Rippetoe, Russell B. 27

CONNECTICUT
A SPC Felder, Tyanna S. 22 Bridgeport
MC SSG Jordan, Phillip A. 42 Enfield
A PFC Perez, Wilfredo Jr. 24 Norwalk
A SGT Delgreco, Felix M. 22 Simsbury
A PFC Dagostino, Anthony D. 20 Waterbury
MC CPL Chanawongse, Kemaphoom A. 22 Waterford

WASHINGTON, DC
A SPC Dent, Darryl T., 21, Washington

DELAWARE
MC LCPL Roberts, Anthony P., 18, Bear
A SPC Long, Ryan P., 21, Seaford
MC SGT McGinness, Brian, 23, St. Georges

FLORIDA
MC PFC Cobb, Christopher R. 19 Bradenton
MC LCPL Buesing, Brian Rory 20 Cedar Key
A SSG Jones, Raymond E. Jr. 31 Gainesville
A SPC Wershow, Jeffrey M. 22 Gainseville
A CWO2 Weaver, Aaron A. 32 Inverness
A SGT Hartman, Jonathan N. 27 Jacksonville
A SGT Randle, Edmond L. 26 Miami
A SSG Shanaberger, Wentz J.H. III 33 Naples
MC LCPL Aviles, Andrew Julian 18 Palm Beach
A SPC Woodliff, Michael R. 22 Port Charlotte
A PFC Orr, Cody J. 21 Ruskin
A SPC Wise, Robert A. 21 Tallahassee
A SSG Quinn, Michael B. 37 Tampa
A SFC Smith, Paul R. 33 Tampa
A CWO2 Manuel, Ian D. 23

GEORGIA
A PFC Strange, William R. 19 Adrian
A SPC Johnson, Nathaniel H. 22 Augusta
A SSG Crockett, Ricky L. 37 Broxton
A SPC Holland, Christopher J. 26 Brunswick
A PFC Rincon, Diego Fernando 19 Conyers
A PFC Weldon, Michael R.C. 20 Conyers
AF A1C Holt, Antoine J. 20 Kennesaw
A SSG Franklin, Bobby C. 38 Mineral Bluff
A SPC Edgerton, Marshall L. 27 Rocky Face
A SPC Johnson, Justin W. 22 Rome
A SPC Addison, Jamaal R. 22 Roswell
A SGT Crockett, Michael T. 27 Soperton
A CSM Wilson, Jerry L. 45 Thomson

IDAHO
AF MAJ Stone, Gregory 40 Boise
A PFC Petty, Jerrick M. 25 Idaho Falls
A CPL Carl, Richard P. 26 King Hill
A PFC Raney, Cleston C. 20 Rupert

ILLINOIS
A CPL Jostes, Forest J. 22 Albion
A PFC Goodrich, Gregory R. 37 Bartonville
A PFC Edwards, Shawn C., 20, Bensenville
A SGT Phipps, Ivory L. 44 Chicago
MC 1SGT Smith, Edward 38 Chicago
A SPC Sullivan, John R. 26 Countryside
MC LCPL Frank, Phillip E. 20 Elk Grove
A SPC Dusenbery, William D. 30 Fairview Heights
A 1LT Slavenas, Brian D. 30 Genoa
MC PFC Morris, Geoffrey S. 19 Gurnee
MC CPL James, Evan T. 20 La Harpe
A SPC Singh, Uday 21 Lake Forest
A SPC Carlock, Ryan G. 25 Macomb
MC PVT Gifford, Jonathan L. 30 Macon
A SSG Hollinsaid, Lincoln D. 27 Malden
MC LCPL Gray, Torrey L. 19 Patoka
A SPC Rowe, Brandon J. 20 Roscoe
A SSG Sutter, Michael J. 28 Tinley Park

INDIANA
A SPC Keith, Chad L. 21 Batesville
MC CPT Beaupre, Ryan Anthony 30 Bloomington
A PFC Hudson, Christopher E. 21 Carmel
A SPC Penisten, Brian H. 28 Fort Wayne
A SSG Miller, Frederick L. 27 Hagerstown
MC SGT Rios, Duane R. 25 Hammond
A SPC Sanders, Gregory P. 19 Hobart
MC PFC Hallal, Deryk L. 24 Indianapolis
A PVT Halling, Jesse M. 19 Indianapolis
A SGT Black, Jarrod W. 26 Peru
A PVT Pahnke, Shawn D. 25 Shelbyville
A PFC Amos, John D. II 22 Valparaiso
MC LCPL Fribley, David K. 26 Warsaw
A SPC Frist, Luke P. 20 West Lafayette

IOWA
A SGT Fisher, Paul F. 39 Cedar Rapids
MC SGT Korthaus, Bradley S. 28 Davenport
MC CPL Speer, Michael R. 24 Davenport
A PVT Frosheiser, Kurt R. 22 Des Moines
A PVT Deutsch, Michael J. 21 Dubuque
MC PFC Carman, Benjamin R. 20 Jefferson
MC GYSGT Bohr, Jeffrey E. 39 Ossian
A SPC Knowles, Joshua L. 23 Sheffield
A SPC Sissel, Aaron J. 22 Tipton
A CWO4 Smith, Bruce A. 41 West Liberty

KANSAS
A CPL Cabralbanuelos, Juan C. 25 Emporia
MC LCPL Wasser, Christopher B. 21 Ottawa
A SPC Lister, Joseph L. 22 Pleasanton
A SPC Thomas, Kyle G. 23 Topeka
A SGT Butler, Jacob L. 24 Wellsville

KENTUCKY
A 1LT Henderson, Robert L. II 33 Alvaton KY
A 2LT Graham, Jeffrey C. 24 Elizabethtown KY
A SGT Acklin, Michael D. II 25 Louisville KY
A SSG Rentschler, George S. 31 Louisville KY
A SPC Powell, James E. 26 Radcliff KY
MC CPL Dieruf, Nicholas J. 21 Versailles KY
A SFC Hoffman, James T. 41 Whitesburg KY

LOUISIANA
A SSG Mallet, Toby W. 26 Kaplan
A SGT Williams, Taft V. 29 New Orleans
A SSG Davis, Craig 37 Opelousas

MAINE
A SPC Holmes, Jeremiah J. 27 North Berwick
MC MAJ Aubin, Jay Thomas 36 Waterville

MARYLAND
A CSM Gilmore, Cornell W. 45 Baltimore
MC SSG Waters-Bey, Kendall Damon 29 Baltimore
A SPC Ford, Jason C. 21 Bowie
A PVT Davis, Brandon L. 20 Cumberland
A SGT Walker, Jeffrey C. 33 Havre de Grace
A SPC Mitchell, George A. 35 Rawlings

MASSACHUSETTS
A PFC Hart, John D. 20 Bedford
A CWO3 Kennedy, Kyran E. 43 Boston
A SGT Londono, Daniel J. 22 Boston
A SPC Boule, Mathew G. 22 Dracut
A SPC Palacios, Gabriel T. 22 Lynn
MC CPL Vicente, David M. 25 Methuen
A SSG Camara, Joseph 40 New Bedford
MC 1LT McPhillips, Brian M. 25 Pembroke
MC LCPL Burgess, Jeffrey C. 20 Plymouth
MC CPT Sammis, Benjamin W. 29 Rehobeth
A SPC Enos, Peter G. 24 South Dartmouth
A SGT Garvey, Justin W. 23 Townsend
A SSG Bellavia, Joseph P. 28 Wakefield

MICHIGAN
A SSG Christensen, Thomas W. 42 Atlantic Mine
A PFC Heidelberg, Damian L. 21 Batesville
A SSG Johnson, Paul J. 29 Calumet
A SGT Blumberg, Trevor A. 22 Canton
AF SSG Sather, Scott D. 29 Clio
A SPC Wheeler, Donald L. 22 Concord
A SSG Wilson, Joe N. 30 Crystal Springs
A SPC Brassfield, Artimus D. 22 Flint
A SGT Pedersen, Michael F. 26 Flint
A SPC Trevithick, Richard K. 20 Gaines
A SSG Hattamer, Stephen C. 43 Gwinn
A SPC Chance, James A. III 25 Kokomo
A PFC Wright, Jason G. 19 Luzerne
A SGT Robbins, Todd J. 33 Pentwater
A SSG Ferrin, Clint D. 31 Picayune
A SSG Vasquez, Mark D. 35 Port Huron
A PFC Meyer, Jason M. 23 Swartz Creek
A PFC McGeogh, Holly J. 19 Taylor
MC PFC Garza, Juan Guadalupe Jr. 20 Temperance
A SPC Digiovanni, Jeremiah J. 21 Tylertown

MINNESOTA
MC CPL Fey, Tyler R. 22 Eden Prairie
A SSG Hellerman, Brian R. 35 Freeport
MC PFC Langhorst, Moises A. 19 Moose Lake
A SSG Panchot, Dale A. 26 Northome
MC LCPL Angell, Levi T. 20 Saint Louis
A PFC Herrgott, Edward J. 20 Shakopee

MISSISSIPPI
MC PFC Mabry, Christopher D. 19 Chunky
MC 2LT Childers, Therrel S. 30 Harrison
A SPC Brown, Larry K. 22 Jackson
A CPL Brown, Henry L. 22 Natchez
A SPC Davis, Raphael S. 24 Tutwiler

MISSOURI
A SPC Barnes, Jonathan P. 21 Anderson
A SSG Huggins, Jamie L. 26 Hume
A SPC Bertoldie, Joel L. 20 Independence
A SGT Walters, Donald R. 33 Kansas City
A SFC Gottfried, Richard S. 42 Lake Ozark
A CPT Smith, Benedict J. 29 Monroe City

MONTANA
A 1LT Saltz, Edward M., 27, Bigfork

NEBRASKA
MC PVT Boye, Noah L. 21 Grand Island
A SGT Mracek, Cory R. 26 Hay Springs
A SSG Swisher, Christopher W. 26 Lincoln
MC CPT Ford, Travis A. 30 Ogallala
A SPC Wolf, James R. 21 Scottsbluff
A SPC Morgan, Dennis B. 22 Valentine

NEVADA
MC LCPL Cline, Donald J., 21, Sparks
MC 2LT Pokorney, Frederick E. Jr., 31, Tonopah
A CPT Byers, Joshua T., 29

NEW HAMPSHIRE
A SGT Rosenberg, Randy S., 23, Berlin

NEW JERSEY
A SPC Seiden, Mark A. 26 Brigantine
A SPC Baker, Ryan T. 24 Brown Mills
A 2LT Dvorin, Seth J. 24 East Brunswick
A SPC Hunt, Simeon 23 Essex
A SPC Jackson, Marlon P. 25 Jresey City
A SFC Philippe, Gladimir 37 Linden
MC 2LT Wroblewski, John T. 25 Oak Ridge
A SPC Froehlich, Adam D. 21 Pine Hill
A SPC Curtin, Michael Edward 23 South Plains
A SSG Hemingway, Terry W. 39 Willingboro

NEW MEXICO
MC PFC Ramos, Christopher, 26, Albuquerque
A SGT Todacheene, Lee D., 29, Farmington
A SPC Pirtle, James H., 27, La Mesa

NEW YORK
A PFC Fletcher, Jacob S. 28 Bayshore
A PFC Heighter, Raheen Tyson 22 Bayshore
A PFC Moreno, Luis A. 19 Bronx
A PFC Johnson, Rayshawn S. 20 Brooklyn
MC PFC Burkett, Tamario D. 21 Buffalo
A PFC Bush, Charles E. Jr. 43 Buffalo
A SPC McKeever, David M. 25 Buffalo
A SPC Williams, Michael L. 46 Buffalo
A SGT McMillin, Heath A. 29 Canandaigua
A SPC Ling, Roger G. 20 Douglaston
A SSG Robsky, Joseph E. Jr. 31 Elizaville
A PFC Huxley, Gregory P. 19 Forestport
A SGT Friedrich, David T. 26 Hammond
MC CPL Kolm, Kevin T. 23 Hicksville
A SGT Williams, Eugene 24 Highland
A SPC Medina, Irving 22 Middletown
N PO1 Pernaselli, Michael, 27, Monroe
MC CPL Gooden, Bernard G. 22 Mt. Vernon
MC SSG Tejeda, Riayan A. 26 New York
A CPT Wood, George A. 33 New York
A SSG Kimmerly, Kevin C. 31 North Creek
MC CPL Rodriguez, Robert M. 21 Queens
CG PO3 Bruckenthal, Nathan B. 24 Smithtown
A PFC Brown, Nathan P. 21 South Glens Falls
A SPC Nieves, Isaac Michael 20 Unadilla

NORTH CAROLINA
A SPC Brown, Lunsford B. II 27 Creedmore
A PVT Guerrera, Joseph R. 20 Dunn
A SFC Miller, Marvin L. 38 Dunn
A LTC Buehring, Charles H. 40 Fayetteville
A SGT Rose, Scott C. 30 Fayetteville
A SGT Krause, Elmer C., 40, Grensboro
A SGT Parson, David B. 30 Kannapolis
A PFC Whitener, Joey D. 19 Nebo
A CPL Bibby, Mark A. 25 Watha
A SPC Carrasquillo, Jocelyn L. 28 Wrightsville Beach

NORTH DAKOTA
A SSG Hendrickson, Kenneth W. 41 Bismarck
A SPC Fettig, Jon P. 30 Dickinson
A SGT Smette, Keith L. 25 Fargo
A PFC Hawk Eagle, Sheldon R. 21 Grand Forks

OHIO
A SSG Ramey, Richard P. 27 Canton
A MSG Dowdy, Robert J. 38 Cleveland
A PVT Sloan, Brandon U. 19 Cleveland
A PFC Ott, Kevin C. 27 Columbus
A CWO3 Van Dusen, Brian K. 39 Columbus
A PFC Rockhold, Marlin T. 23 Hamilton
MC LCPL Smith, Michael J. Jr. 21 Jefferson
A SPC Vandayburg, Allen J. 20 Mansfield
A SPC Christian, Brett J. 27 North Royalton
A PFC Neighbor, Gavin L. 20 Somerset
MC CPL Brownfield, Andrew D. 24 Summit
A SSG Landrus, Sean G. 31 Thompson
A SGT Biskie, Benjamin W. 27 Vermillion
A SPC Conover, Steven D. 21 Wilmington
A PFC Oberleitner, Branden F. 20 Worthington
A SSG Kinney, Lester O. II 27 Zanesville

OKLAHOMA
A 2LT James, Luke S. 24 Hooker
A SGT White, Steven W. 29 Lawton
A CWO2 Colton, Lawrence S. 32 Oklahoma City
A SGT Pennanen, Ross A. 36 Shawnee
MC LCPL Blair, Thomas A. 24 Wagoner

OREGON
A SGT Moothart, Travis A. 23 Brownesville
A SPC Rogers, Philip G. 23 Gresham
A WO Kesterson, Erik C. 29 Independence
MC LCPL VanLeuven, Gary F. 20 Klamath Falls
A SSG Stever, Robert A. 36 Pendleton
A PFC Ramirez, William C. 19 Portland
MC CPT Contreras, Aaron J. 31 Sherwood

PENNSYLVANIA
MC LCPL Barr, Aric J. 22 Allegheny
A SSG Booker, Stevon A. 34 Apollo
A SSG Voelz, Kimberly A. 27 Carlisle
A PFC Brown, Timmy R. Jr. 21 Conway
A CPT Seifert, Christopher S. 27 Easton
A SGT Bucklew, Ernest G. 33 Enon Valley
A SPC Oaks, Donald S. Jr. 20 Erie
A SPC Golby, Christopher A. 26 Johnstown
A SPC Johnson, Maurice J. 21 Levittown
A SSG Cutchall, Christopher E. 30 McConnellsburg
A SGT Hayslett, Timothy L. 26 Newville
A SPC Kephart, Jonathan R. 21 Oil City
A 1LT Bernstein, David R. 24 Phoenixville
A SPC Navea, Rafael L. 34 Pittsburgh
A SGT Tomko, Nicholas A. 24 Pittsburgh
A SGT Minucci, Joseph II 23 Richeyville
A SPC Sandri, Matthew J. 24 Shamokin
A SPC Sturges, William R. Jr. 24 Spring Church
A CPT Aitken, Tristan N. 31 State College
A SPC Hull, Eric R. 23 Uniontown
A SPC Maher, William J. III 35 Yardley
A SPC Mitchell, Sean R. 24 Youngsville

PUERTO RICO
A SFC Rivera, Jose A. 34 Bayamon
A SPC Torres, Ramon Reyes 29 Caguas
A SPC Vega, Frances M. 20 Fort Buchanan
A SGT Martinez, Francisco 28 Humacao
N PO3 Mendezaceves, Fernando A. 27 Ponce
A SGT Perez, Joel 25 Rio Grande
A SPC Orengo, Richard P. 32

RHODE ISLAND
A SGT Belanger, Gregory A. 24 Narragansett
A CPT August, Matthew J. 28 North Kingstown
A SGT Caldwell, Charles T. 38 North Providence
MC LCPL Serio, Matthew K. 21 North Providence

SOUTH CAROLINA
A SPC Smith, Orenthial J. 21 Allendale
A SGT Buggs, George E. 31 Barnwell
MC PVT Hutchings, Nolen R. 19 Boiling Springs
A PSC Jennings, Darius T. 22 Cordova
A CPT Hampton, Kimberly N. 27 Easley
AF SSG Griffin, Patrick Lee Jr. 31 Elgin
A SSG Neff, Paul N. II 30 Fort Mill
A SGM Stack, Michael B. 48 Lake City
A SGT Thompson, Anthony O. 26 Orangeburg

SOUTH DAKOTA
A CWO2 Gukeisen, Hans N., 31, Lead
A PFC Deuel, Michael R., 21, Nemo
A CPT Soelzer, Christopher F., 26, Sturgis
A CWO2 Saboe, Scott A., 33, Willow Lake

TENNESSEE
A SGT Rowe, Roger D. 54 Bon Aqua
A CWO2 Coulter, Alexander S. 35 Bristol
A 2LT Torres, Richard 25 Clarksville
A SPC Foley, Thomas A. III 23 Dresden
A SFC Hicks, Gregory B. 35 Duff
N PO1 Watts, Christopher E., 28, Knoxville
MC CPT Morel, Brent L. 27 Martin
A SSG Kennon, Morgan D. 23 Memphis
A SSG McMahan, Don S. 31 Nashville
MC LCPL Nixon, Patrick R. 21 Nashville
A LTC Orlando, Kim S. 43 Nashville
A SFC Bennett, William M. 35 Seymour

TEXAS
A 1LT Hufstedler, Doyle M. 25 Abilene
AF CPT Das, Eric B. 30 Amarillo
A CWO2 Mata, Johnny Villareal 35 Amarillo
A SSG Dunigan, Joe L. Jr. 37 Belton
A SGT Methvin, Daniel K. 22 Belton
A SPC Anguiano, Edward J. 24 Brownsville
A PFC Parker, James D. 20 Bryan
A SPC Polley, Larry E. Jr. 20 Center
A SPC Kiehl, James M. 22 Comfort
A SSG Perez, Hector R. 40 Corpus Christi
MC PFC Sekula, Dustin M. 18 Edinburg
A PVT Estrella-Soto, Ruben 18 El Paso
A MSG Fernandez, George A. 36 El Paso
A SGT Rico, Ariel 25 El Paso
A PFC Dervishi, Ervin 21 Fort Worth
A MSG Hornbeck, Kelly L. 36 Fort Worth
MC CPL Medellin, Jesus Martin Antonio 21 Fort Worth
A SPC Arriaga, Richard 20 Ganado
A CWO2 Jamar, Scott 32 Granbury
A SSG Collins, Gary L. 32 Hardin
A SPC Carballo, Adolf C. 20 Houston
A PFC Gutierrez, Analaura Esparza 21 Houston
MC CPL Kennedy, Brian Matthew 25 Houston
A SPC Larson, Scott Q. 22 Houston
A SGT Moss, Keelan L. 23 Houston
MC PFC Sandoval, Leroy Jr. 21 Houston
A CPL Soleto, Tomas Jr. 20 Houston
A 2LT Rozier, Jonathan D. 25 Katy
A PFC Wyatt, Stephen E. 19 Kilgore
A PVT Cuervo, Rey D. 24 Laguna Vista
A PFC Hutchinson, Ray J. 20 League City
A PFC Moore, Stuart W. 21 Livingston
A SPC Garza, Israel 25 Lubbock
MC PFC Morris, Ricky A. Jr. 20 Lubbock
A SGT Ramirez, Christopher 34 McAllen
A SPC Wright, James C. 27 Morgan
MC CPL Amaya, Daniel R. 22 Odessa
MC LCPL Goldman, Shane L. 20 Orange
A SGT Russell, John W. 26 Portland
A SGT Eckhart, William C. 25 Rocksprings
A SPC Arsiaga, Robert R. 25 San Antonio
A CPT Blanco, Ernesto M. 28 San Antonio
A PVT Frantz, Robert L. 19 San Antonio
A SPC Karr, Michael G. 23 San Antonio
A PFC Miller, Anthony S. 19 San Antonio
A SPC Norquist, Joseph C. 26 San Antonio
A SPC Perez, Jose A. III 22 San Diego
MC LCPL Valdez, Ruben Jr. 21 San Diego
MC CPL Matula, Matthew E. 20 Spicewood
MC LCPL Wafford, Michael B. 20 Spring
A PFC Henson, Clayton W. 20 Stanton
A SGT Moreno, Gerardo 23 Terrell
MC LCPL Torrez, Elias III 21 Veribest
A SGT Barrera, Michael Paul 26 Von Ormy
A CWO3 Fortenberry, Wesley C. 38 Woodville

UTAH
MC SSG Cawley, James W. 41 Roy
A SSG Livaudais, Nino D. 23

VERMONT
A CWO4 Halvorsen, Eric A. 40 Bennington
A PVT Gilbert, Kyle C. 20 Brattleboro
MC CPL Evnin, Mark A. 21 Burlington
A SPC Bangayan, Solomon C. 24 Jay
A CPT Piche, Pierre E. 29 Starksboro

VIRGINIA
A CSM Blankenbecler, James D. 40 Alexandria
A CWO4 Swartworth, Sharon T. 43 Alexandria
A 2LT Kaylor, Jeffrey J. 24 Clifton
A 1LT Hurley, Joshua C. 24 Clifton Forge
AF MAJ Watkins, William R. III 37 Danville
A CPT Teal, John R. 31 Mechanicsville
A SGT Dooley, Michael E. 23 Pulaski
MC SGT May, Donald C. Jr. 31 Richmond
A CPT Adamouski, James F. 29 Springfield
MC SGT Lalush, Michael V. 23 Troutville
MC LCPL Owens, David Edward 20 Winchester

WASHINGTON
A SPC Hebert, Justin W. 20 Arlington
A 2LT Colgan, Benjamin J. 30 Kent
A PFC Scott, Kerry D. 21 Mount Vernon

WEST VIRGINIA
A PFC Hafer, Richard W. 21 Cross Lanes

WISCONSIN
A SPC Uhl, Eugene A. III 21 Amherst
MC CPL Thiry, Jesse L. 23 Casco
A SGT Hansen, Warren S. 36 Clintonville
A CPT Kurth, John F. 31 Columbus
A PFC Hoyer, Bert E. 23 Ellsworth
A PFC Frye, Nichole M. 19 Lena
A 2LT Wolfe, Jeremy L. 27 Menomonie
A SPC McGlothin, Michael A. 21 Milwaukee
A SPC Wittmer, Michelle M. 20 New Berlin
MC PFC Jerabek, Ryan M. 18 Oneida
A MAJ Splinter, Christopher J. 43 Platteville
A SFC Gabrielson, Dan H. 39 Spooner
A PFC Bosveld, Rachel K. 19 Waupun
A MAJ Schram, Mathew E. 36

WYOMING
A CPT Lucero, Robert L. 34 Casper
MC SGT Reiss, Brendan C. 23 Casper
A 1LT Nott, Leif E. 24 Cheyenne

DEATHS FROM NON-HOSTILE COMBAT

ALABAMA
USAF Sgt Bruce Brown, Age 32, Coatopa, AL
Army PFC Paul Bueche, Age 19, Daphne, AL
Army CWO Brian Hazelgrove, Age 29, Fort Rucker, AL
Army Sgt Christopher Willoughby, Age 29, Phenix City, AL
USMC CWO Robert Channell Jr, Age 36, Tuscaloosa, AL
Army Spc Cedric Lennon, Age 32, West Blocton, AL

AMERICAN SAMOA
Army Spc Farao Letufuga, Age 20, Pago Pago, AS

ARKANSAS
Army Capt Gussie Jones, Age 41, Raleigh, AR

ARIZONA
Army Spc Alyssa Peterson, Age 27, Flagstaff, AZ
Navy Seaman Joshua McIntosh, Age 22, Kingman, AZ
Army Sgt Elijah Tai Wah Wong, Age 42, Mesa, AZ
Army CWO Matthew Laskowski, Age 32, Phoenix, AZ
Navy Petty Ofc David Sisung, Age 21, Phoenix, AZ
Army Sgt Sean Cataudella, Age 28, Tuscon, AZ

CALIFORNIA

Army PFC Leroy Harris-Kelly, Age 20, Azusa, CA
USMC Cpl Douglas Marencoreyes, Age 28, Chino, CA
Army Sgt Keicia Hines, Age 27, Citrus Heights, CA
Army Lt Osbaldo Orozco, Age 26, Delano, CA
Army PFC Jose Casanova, Age 23, El Monte, CA
USMC Capt Andrew LaMont, Age 31, Eureka, CA
Army Spc Justin Pollard, Age 21, Foothill Ranch, CA
Army Pfc Pablo Manzano, Age 19, Heber, CA
Army PFC Daniel Parker, Age 18, Lake Elsinore, CA
Army Lt Michael Vega, Age 41, Lathrop, CA
Army CWO Christopher Nason, Age 39, Los Angeles, CA
USMC Lance Cpl Jason Tetrault, Age 20, Moreno Valley, CA
USMC PFC Jose Rodriguez, Age 19, Norwalk, CA
Army Pvt Devon Jones, Age 19, San Diego, CA
Army Spc Michael Mihalakis, Age 18, San Jose, CA
USMC Lance Cpl Jason Moore, Age 21, San Marcos, CA
USMC Lance Cpl Cory Geurin, Age 18, Santee, CA
Army Sgt Steven Bridges, Age 33, Tracy, CA
USAF MSgt Jude Mariano, Age 39, Vallejo, CA
USMC Sgt Jimmy Arroyave, Age 30, Woodland, CA

COLORADO
Army Sgt Barry Sanford Sr, Age 46, Aurora, CO
Army Sgt Michael Yashinski, Age 24, Monument, CO

CONNECTICUT
Army Sgt Richard Eaton Jr, Age 37, Guilford, CT
Army PFC Jeffrey Braun, Age 19, Stafford, CT

DELAWARE
Army Spc Jarrett Thompson, Age 27, Dover, DE

DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA
Army Lt Col Paul Kimbrough, Age 44, Washington, DC
USMC Lance Cpl Gregory MacDonald, Age 29, Washington, DC

FLORIDA
USMC Cpl Armando Gonzalez, Age 25, Hialeah, FL
Army Sgt Keman Mitchell, Age 24, Hilliard, FL
Army PFC Charles Sims, Age 18, Miami, FL
Army Spc Tracy Laramore, Age 30, Okaloosa, FL
Army Sgt Wilbert Davis, Age 40, Tampa, FL
Army Cpl John Rivero, Age 23, Tampa, FL
Army Spc Robert Roberts, Age 21, Winter Park, FL

GEORGIA
Army Sgt William Normandy, Age 42, Augusta, GA
Army MSgt Thomas Thigpen Sr, Age 52, Augusta, GA
Army Spc Marvin Camposiles, Age 25, Austell, GA
Army Spc David Nutt, Age 32, Blackshear, GA
Army Capt Edward Korn, Age 31, Savannah, GA
Army Spc John Klinesmith Jr, Age 25, Stockbridge, GA
Army Pvt Benjamin Freeman, Age 19, Valdosta, GA
Army Sgt Nathaniel Hart Jr, Age 29, Valdosta, GA

HAWAII
Army Sgt Cameron Sarno, Age 43, Waipahu, HI

IDAHO
Army Capt James Shull, Age 32, Kamiah, ID

ILLINOIS
USMC Lt Timothy Ryan, Age 30, Aurora, IL
Army PFC Brandon Ramsey, Age 21, Calumet City, IL
Army Pvt Matthew Bush, Age 20, East Alton, IL
USMC Lance Cpl Nicholas Kleiboeker, Age 19, Irvington, IL
Army Sgt Andrew Pokorny, Age 30, Naperville, IL
Army PFC Christopher Sisson, Age 20, Oak Park, IL
USMC Lance Cpl Jakub Kowalik, Age 21, Schaumberg, IL
Army Pvt Scott Tyrrell, Age 21, Sterling, IL
Army Spc Corey Hubbell, Age 20, Urbana, IL

INDIANA
USMC Lance Cpl Matthew Smith, Age 20, Anderson, IN
Army Sgt Craig Boling, Age 38, Elkhart, IN
Army Spc William Jeffries, Age 39, Evansville, IN
Army Pvt Robert McKinley, Age 23, Kokomo, IN
Army Spc Ronald Allen Jr, Age 22, Mitchell, IN
Army Cpl Darrell Smith, Age 28, Otwell, IN
Army Spc Roy Buckley, Age 24, Portage, IN

IOWA
Army PFC David Kirchhoff, Age 31, Cedar Rapids, IA
Army Pvt Kenneth Nalley, Age 19, Hamburg, IA

KANSAS
USMC PFC Ryan Cox, Age 19, Derby, KS
Army Spc Dustin McGaugh, Age 20, Derby, KS
Army Pvt Dustin Kreider, Age 19, Riverton, KS

KENTUCKY
Army Sgt Darrin Potter, Age 24, Louisville, KY
Army Cpl Gary Coleman, Age 24, Pikeville, KY

LOUISIANA
Army PFC Wilfred Bellard, Age 20, Lake Charles, LA
Army Sgt Floyd Knighten Jr, Age 55, Olla, LA
Army Spc Levi Kinchen, Age 21, Tickfaw, LA

MAINE
Army Spc Daniel Cunningham, Age 33, Lewiston, ME

MARYLAND
Army Lt Adam Mooney, Age 28, Cambridge, MD
USMC Cpl Jason Mileo, Age 20, Centreville, MD
Army Pvt Bryan Spry, Age 19, Chestertown, MD

MASSACHUSETTS
USMC Sgt Jonathan Lambert, Age 28, Newsite, MA
Army CWO Stephen Wells, Age 29, North Egremont, MA
Army Sgt Glenn Allison, Age 24, Pittsfield, MA

MICHIGAN
Army Sgt Sean Reynolds, Age 25, East Lansing, MI
Army Sgt Brett Petriken, Age 30, Flint, MI
Army Capt Paul Cassidy, Age 36, Laingsburg, MI
Army Spc Richard Goward, Age 32, Midland, MI
USMC MSgt William Payne, Age 46, Otsego, MI
USMC Maj Kevin Nave, Age 36, Union Lake, MI
Army PFC Damian Bushart, Age 22, Waterford, MI

MINNESOTA
Army CWO Patrick Dorff, Age 32, Elk River, MN
USMC PFC Matthew Milczark, Age 18, Kettle River, MN

MISSOURI
Army Sgt Travis Burkhardt, Age 26, Edina, MO
Army CWO Michael Blaise, Age 29, Macon, MO
Army Spc Joshua Neusche, Age 20, Montreal, MO
Army PFC Jeremiah Smith, Age 25, Odessa, MO
USMC Sgt Nicolas Hodson, Age 22, Smithville, MO
Army PFC Jesse Givens, Age 34, Springfield, MO

MISSISSIPPI
Army Sgt Kenneth Bradley, Age 39, Utica, MS

NEBRASKA
Army Sgt Dennis Corral, Age 33, Kearney, NE
Army Spc Nathaniel Caldwell, Age 27, Omaha, NE

NEW HAMPSHIRE
Army MSgt Richard Ferguson, Age 45, Conway, NH
Army Sgt Robert Rooney, Age 43, Nashua, NH

NEW JERSEY
Army Spc Kyle Griffin, Age 20, Emerson, NJ
Army Spc Narson Sullivan, Age 21, North Brunswick, NJ
Army PFC Bruce Miller Jr, Age 23, Orange, NJ
Army Spc Gil Mercado, Age 25, Paterson, NJ

NEW YORK
Army Sgt Linda Jimenez, Age 39, Brooklyn, NY
Army Spc Rasheed Sahib, Age 22, Brooklyn, NY
Army Pvt David Evans Jr, Age 18, Buffalo, NY
USMC Lance Cpl Eric Orlowski, Age 26, Buffalo, NY
Army Spc Doron Chan, Age 20, Highland, NY
USMC MSgt Timothy Toney, Age 37, New York, NY
Army Sgt Thomas Robbins, Age 27, Schenectady, NY

NORTH CAROLINA
Army Sgt Michael Tosto, Age 24, Apex, NC
USMC Lance Cpl Brian Anderson, Age 26, Durham, NC
Army Sgt Roderic Solomon, Age 32, Fayetteville, NC
Army Sgt Leonard Simmons, Age 33, New Bern, NC
Army Spc James Lambert III, Age 22, Raleigh, NC
USMC Lance Cpl Alan Lam, Age 19, Snow Camp, NC
Army Sgt Henry Bacon, Age 45, Wagram, NC

NORTH DAKOTA
Army Spc Thomas Sweet II, Age 23, Bismarck, ND

OHIO
Army Spc Todd Bates, Age 20, Bellaire, OH
Army PFC Kenneth Souslin, Age 21, Mansfield, OH
Army Lt Col Dominic Baragona, Age 42, Niles, OH
USMC PFC Christian Gurtner, Age 19, Ohio City, OH
Army Sgt Aaron Reese, Age 31, Reynoldsburg, OH
Army Spc Stephen Scott, Age 21, Union, OH

OKLAHOMA
USAF MSgt David Scott, Age 51, Lawton, OK
Navy Petty Ofc Doyle Bollinger Jr, Age 21, Poteau, OK
USMC Sgt Aaron White, Age 27, Shawnee, OK
Army Pvt Jason Ward, Age 25, Tulsa, OK

OREGON
Army Spc Joseph Blickenstaff, Age 23, Corvallis, OR
Army Spc Nathan Nakis, Age 19, Corvallis, OR
USMC Cpl Travis Bradachnall, Age 21, Multnomah Co., OR
Army Spc Brandon Tobler, Age 19, Portland, OR
Army Spc Christopher Wesley, Age 26, Portland, OR

PENNSYLVANIA
Army Spc Clint Matthews, Age 31, Bedford, PA
Army Sgt Christopher Coffin, Age 51, Bethlehem, PA
Army PFC Corey Small, Age 20, East Berlin, PA
Army Sgt Andrew Baddick, Age 26, Jim Thorpe, PA
USMC Lance Cpl Joseph Maglione, Age 22, Lansdale, PA
Army Sgt Edward Carmen, Age 27, McKeesport, PA
Army Spc Zachariah Long, Age 20 Milton, PA
Army Spc Edward Brabazon, Age 20, Philadelphia, PA
Army Capt Brian Faunce, Age 28, Philadelphia, PA
Army Spc Douglas Weismantle, Age 28, Pittsburgh, PA
Army Sgt Jaror Puello-Coronado, Age 36, Pocono Summit, PA
Army Spc Craig Ivory, Age 26, Port Matilda, PA
Army Lt Col Anthony Sherman, Age 43, Pottstown, PA
Army Spc Tamarra Ramos, Age 24, Quakerstown, PA
Army Spc Michael Gleason, Age 25, Warren, PA

PUERTO RICO
Army Sgt Juan Serrano, Age 31, Manati, PR

RHODE ISLAND
Army Spc Michael Andrade, Age 28, Bristol, RI

SOUTH CAROLINA
Army Pvt Algernon Adams, Age 36, Aiken, SC
Army PFC Vorn Mack, Age 19, Orangeburg, SC
Army PFC Michael Adams, Age 20, Spartanburg, SC
Army Spc Rian Ferguson, Age 22, Taylors, SC

SOUTH DAKOTA
Army Sgt Cory Brooks, Age 32, Philip, SD

TENNESSEE
Army Sgt Kenneth Harris Jr, Age 23, Charlotte, TN
Army Sgt David Loyd, Age 44, Jackson, TN
Army Sgt Nathan Bailey, Age 46, Nashville, TN

TEXAS
Army PFC Jason Ludlam, Age 22, Arlington, TX
Army Sgt Henry Ybarra III, Age 32, Austin, TX
Army Spc Zeferino Colunga, Age 20, Bellville, TX
USMC PFC Chad Bales, Age 20, Coahoma, TX
Army Spc Christian Schulz, Age 20, Colleyville, TX
USMC LCpl James Casper, Age 20, Coolidge, TX
Army Sgt Melissa Valles, Age 26, Eagle Pass, TX
Army CWO Clarence Boone, Age 50, Fort Worth, TX
Army Spc John Johnson, Age 24, Houston, TX
Army PFC Armando Soriano, Age 20, Houston, TX
Army Spc Joseph Suell, Age 24, Lufkin, TX
Army Sgt Joe Garza, Age 43, Robstown, TX
Army Sgt Roland Castro, Age 26, San Antonio, TX
USMC CWO Andrew Arnold, Age 30, Spring, TX

UTAH
Army Capt Nathan Dalley, Age 27, Kaysville, UT
Army Spc David Goldberg, Age 20, Layton, UT
Army Sgt Mason Whetstone, Age 30, Ogden, UT

VIRGINIA
Army Pvt Jason Deibler, Age 20, Coeburn, VA
Navy Petty Ofc Michael Gray, Age 32, Richmond, VA
Army Spc Frank Rivers Jr, Age 23, Woodbridge, VA

WASHINGTON
Army Sgt Christopher Bunda, Age 29, Bremerton, WA
Army Sgt Curt Jordan Jr, Age 25, Green Acres, WA
Army Lt Michael Adams, Age 24, Seattle, WA
Army Spc Robert Benson, Age 20, Spokane, WA
Army PFC Duane Longstreth, Age 19, Tacoma, WA
USMC Lance Cpl Cedric Bruns, Age 22, Vancouver, WA

WEST VIRGINIA
Army PFC Ernest Sutphin, Age 21, Parkersburg, WV

WISCONSIN
USMC Sgt Kirk Straseskie, Age 23, Beaver Dam, WI
Army PFC Sean Schneider, Age 22, Janesville, WI
Army Spc Paul Sturino, Age 21, Rice Lake, WI

WYOMING
Army PFC Joseph Mayek, Age 20, Rock Springs, WY

 
Kinda Nice

Huh. I am occassionally suprised. I offer the following, since you have had to read some of my after-class postings from time to time. It is an e-mail from my supervisor regarding the past months performance evals:

"Jason was the Applications Instructor Warrior, teaching, by far, more than anyone else in the center.

Philip was the Technical Instructor Warrior, teaching more Tech classes than anyone else in the center and being on the road much more, too.

Great post-class survey scores all around, with John and myself on the top of the stack.

James Key managed to find his way to teach a bunch of classes and have some great scores as well.

But, when it came time to select an Instructor the Month for this past month, it was really pretty easy to do as I always look for a total picture and never just one single factor.

Michael Eagan excelled in every case last month and, for those who get to read them, provided some much appreciated humor along with useful, detailed information in his post-class reports.

Thanks, Michael!"

You can fool some of the people some of the time, and you can.... ;)

Seriously, sometime I need to vent about how much I really enjoy the people I work with. After working with theatre folks for so many years, it has been a shock at just how swell people can really be.

And stay tuned. I have exciting pictures of birds on our feeders to share (no, you won't find them exciting, but I do). And I will regale you with tales of our baby-sitting my nephew Jake and how we missed his birthday party.

But right now I need to clean my classroom and get out of here.

 
Quote-mania

"Out on the road today
I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac
A little voice inside my head said
'Don't look back. You can never look back.'"
~Don Henley~
"Boys of Summer"

WARNING! I'VE BEEN THINKING AGAIN!
(and the quote-vault of my mind has been breached. Aieeeeeeee!!!)

Oh. dearie, dearie me! One chance line in a song on the way to work, and my mind spins and spins for hours. It has always been so, which explains why I never get anything done. Thankfully I finally have a release for such things now, here at Blogger.com.

(Feel sorry for you though) ;)

I know people who seem to be forever reliving their pasts. And a few are consumed by the unfair hands that life has dealt them. It is their way of coping, I suppose. It seems a sort of shelter in which they can sit, relieved of the necessity to make changes and do difficult things. For after all, "it" (whatever "it" is) wasn't their fault. They are victims; of fate, of parents, of God, of society, of mean-spiritedness, of spouses, of biology.

I do not hold their views in disrespect (please note: contrary to the modern mania, “disrespect" is not a verb. Thank you). But I do decline to be an "enabler" by telling them that I agree with their “victim status”. There is no greater folly than whining about how much better one's life could be "if only."

And that led me to idling thinking ("linking fancy unto fancy" -Poe) about ill events in my own life and what life could been had they not happened. Which led me in turn to trying to figure what I would change if I could. And after due reflection and debate, I found that the list was curiously short.

This is not to say I haven't made mistakes. I've made some doozies! Nor is it to say that bad things haven't happened to me. There have been many events in my life that I felt would surely keep me from ever rising up from the pit of despair. I have sat many nights and contemplated (as Douglas Adams would have it) “The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul".

But I am and continue to be a work in progress. And a man is no more that the sum of what he has learned. I conclude that to undo the mistakes I've made in my life would be to unmake me. For we learn as much from our tragedies and we do from our triumphs.

Probably more.

So there is precious little that I would change, had I the chance. (I didn't watch all those Doctor Who episodes warning about tampering with the time lines for nothing, after all!)

But there are a few small items. Not much for fifty-odd years of a tumultuous life:

1. I would, if I could, undo every cruelty I have ever visited upon another being.

2. I would take back every moment of impatience with anyone or anything, ever.

3. I would have liked to have known when I was being flirted with at the time, rather than figuring it out 30 years after the fact. (My second wife explained my past to me, to my shock and amazement. Jacquelyn says that she is just fine with me not knowing if I am being flirted with now)

4. I regret that I did not give in to temptation decades ago when my buddy Ruthann set out to seduce me (blush).

5. I regret not having quit my job at YPAS sooner than I did.

6. I regret not having stayed those few extra hours rather than going back to Louisville one night to try to get my affairs in order. I regret, and will forever, that I was not where I belonged, at my Father's side the moment that he died.

And that's about it, really. There are things I'd rather not have endured, sure.. but I don’t think I'd change them. You toss the dice and you get what you get.

Let me repeat that: You toss the dice and you get what you get

Period.

You do what you can with it. Sometimes you do well. Sometimes you make a “right dog’s breakfast” of it, as the Brits would say. But that is the essence of Life. It's just silly to waste what time you have complaining about what "should" have been. Or “could” have been. Or anything, really. Damned silly.

"I do not regret this journey. We took risks; we knew we took them. Things have come out against us. Therefore we have no cause for complaint."
final journal entry of the doomed Antarctic expedition
~Admiral Scott~

(Yes... my head really is this full of quotes. Welcome to my world! They run like this constantly, 24/7 Now you see why I had to be an English major)

People seem to spend a lot of time wondering why, if there is a good and omnipotent God (and I believe that there is), He permits suffering and injustice. They write silly books about "When Bad Things Happen to Good People." They credit Him with good events, and then feel betrayed by the bad ones. They wonder why sinners prosper and saints suffer. Of course, the agnostics like to point out that life HAS no rhyme or reason; that "shit happens" and that's that.

"The good end happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what 'fiction' means."
The Importance of Being Earnest
~Oscar Wilde~

I prefer to think (when I think) that things happen because we gave our permission for them to happen; that we 'signed a waiver’ if you will. God is less a vindictive and terrible judge than a loving and wise teacher. Our time here is not meant so much as a test as it is a lesson. I trust God and I feel sure that He puts us here to learn, so that we may grow towards the heavenly beings we have the potential to be.

Anyone who has been in school knows that periodically you have to sit down with the guidance counselor and map out a strategy/course of study. I believe that we know, before we enter this world, what our path is to be... for we took part in the planning session with God, and we just don’t remember on account of having passed through the River Lethe -- the Greek "River of Forgetting" -- on our way here. (Hey! I can my mix mythologies if I want to).

So I guess the really important thing about mistakes... is to go right on making them... and learning from them.

‘Cause when wish away your mistakes, you're wishing away your Life. You're casting out the very thing that makes you, you.

Which makes you basically just a cipher (look it up) ;)

"In the clearing stands a boxer,
And a fighter by his trade.
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that's laid him down
And cut him, till he cried out
In his anger and his shame,
'I am leaving! I am leaving!'
But the fighter still remains."

The Boxer
~Paul Simon~

 
Seen on the Road to Lexington
Didn't have a camera, so I had to mock this up in Photoshop. But it's true, I swear. I wouldn't dare make up something this awful.

 
More notes from the front

Another class report:

Gosh, it was good to get back to photshop!!!!! It seems like AGES since Regina has scheduled me to teach it. (But then I am greedy).

This is one of those pieces of software that cries out for creative restructuring of the lessons. You have to PLAY with the software in class to make it happen.. and we played every way I could manage.

That being said, I have the following observations (and gross generalities) to make:

Some are here to learn, which they do with ease. These sit off to the sides and are silent.

Some of our students are here to learn, though it is a struggle for them. These sit at the back of the room and are silent.

Some of our students are here... God knows why... to display their expertise to the easily impressed? They spend their time openly doing office work and displaying what they know to those sitting near them.

Some of our students are guarrelous farts who come here to complain about a technology that frustrates them and for which frustration they need a voice. These students sit near the instrutor and tend to view the class as their personal tutorial.

In the movie "Harvey" Jimmy Stuart, as Elwood P. Dowd says "In ths life, you must be oh, so clever... or oh, so pleasant. For years I tried clever. I recommend pleasant. And you can quote me."

Machines were fine. ILM was fine. There was one cell phone interruption, which I decided to do an imporvisational dance to in the aisle.

It did not reccur. :)

Long day. Good to be going home. Saw a rainbow on the way!

I can't remember the last time I saw one (and SAD commentary on the state of the environment... despite the apologists for the despoilers). In fact, it had been such a very long since I'd seen one (can YOU remember your last?), that I was struck afresh by the beauty.

A Bach fugue came on the radio just then. And I thought,"Ya know, any world that has rainbows and Bach can't be all bad."

 
"Let dreamers dream what worlds they please;
Those Edens can’t be found.
The sweetest flowers, the fairest trees
Are grown in solid ground.

We’re neither pure nor wise nor good;
We’ll do the best we know.
We’ll build our house, and chop our wood,
And make our garden grow."
CandideLeonard Bernstein


I've always loved this song. At the end of the day, the simple life is all that can bring peace. And now winter is passing and another spring is coming on and it is time once again to make our garden grow. I may not be any good at it, but I try anew every year to bring order out of the chaos that is our garden. The fight against the weeds is rejoined (and re-lost) and I start thinking about what plants to buy to replace the ones that my ineptitude killed the previous year.

None of this would be so bad, if only my father hadn't been a master gardener. Come to think of it, my grandfather built his own greenhouse and used to raise prize orchids. And my father-in-law has the most amazing green thumb which seems to be able to make most anything grow. I mean, the man grows banannas... in Kentucky!

Meanwhile, I sometimes feel sad when I purchase a plant, because I know that the poor this is embarking on a suicide mission. Occassionally, well-meaning individuals will give us plants of various types with the assurance "Oh, you CAN'T kill this! This can survive anything." I have pot after pot of brown, dry, withered remains of things that cannot be killed.

I am the grim reaper of plant-dom.

But still... the ability to go out and play in the dirt cheers me when nothing else can. The simple cycling of the seasons; the sounds of the birds, the smell of the damp earth all restore me to normality (or my version of it) when the world becomes too much for me to bear.

It's such a wonderful statement of Tao, that line: "We’re neither pure nor wise nor good; We’ll do the best we know. "

Which reminds me of another quote (of course).
This one from the 12th century in celebration of the season of growth:

Sumer is icumin in, lhude sing cuccu
Groweth sed and bloweth med and springth the wude nu.
Sing cuccu.
Awe bleteth after lamb, lhouth after calve cu.
Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth, murie sing cuccu.
Cuccu, cuccu, wel singes thu cuccu,
Ne swik thu naver nu.

 
(sigh) You know when somebody has a heart attack in the middle of your class, that’s its just going to be “one of those days.”

 
"He Prayeth best who loveth best
All things both great and small"
~S.T.Coleridge~

No commentary today, other than to note that I have now seen the unmistakable first sign of spring.

No... not the reappearance of robins. Corner gas stations (and WalMart) have started selling bags of mulch once again.

Otherwise not much to tell. We've acquired a larger squirrel who keeps scaring off the little one I'd set out the corn for and raiding the bird feeders. So after several unsucessful attempts to explain that he can have all the corn he wants if he leaves the birds to their food, I finally had to pop him in the butt with a bb gun to convince him. He's been keeping his distance since, and the little one is back, chowing down on the corn in peace.

Innisfree demands that her children play nice.

Speaking of, he's a few pics of our kiddos being themselves (and getting used to the new arrival)

 
So good to be home


We’re back home again. And as much as I like my In-Laws, it is always so wonderful to return to our messy, quirky, ramshackle little house.

Jacquelyn has had her vision restored and our family routine has been reestablished. Legally blind from childhood (the vision specs for “legally blind” are 20/400 and she was 20/1600), she now has 20/25 vision in her worst eye, and 20/20 in the other. Needless to say we are both relieved and astounded and profoundly grateful. The day after the operation, her family kept holding things (clocks, magazines, mustard bottles) up and asking her to read them. Quite, quite amazing stuff.

After a brief period of being standoffish due to our having "abandoned" them, the critters quickly came round and have been especially cuddly, now that their home routine has been restored. Wicker wakes me up once or twice a night to go out (a word we had been spelling around her to keep her from running to the door expectantly – only to find she now knows how to spell it as well) and we spend a little while snuggling before I toddle off to bed. Simon follows wherever I go (unless she is in her window, exploring the scents of spring and thinking cat-thoughts) so as never to miss a chance at being petted. And Duncan – little miss independent – sat in the bathroom whilst I got ready for work, and kept rolling onto her back and wriggling. This is her signal for “rub my tummy”. (All our cat books say that cats don’t like their bellies touched, but fortunately Duncan can’t read -yet. And you can’t just pet her tummy… she likes having it rubbed with one’s sock-clad foot). Only Hetty is still in a temper, and keeps carefully turning her rear-end to us whenever we approach. This is the bunny equivalent of extending the middle finger in a salute.

So life is slowly retuning to normal. Well… it is slowly returning to what is normal for us. Duncan actually started grooming Hetty the other night. We didn’t get a picture, sadly. But Jacquelyn did get one funny snapshot of big Simon cowering on the extreme corner of the bed, staring fearfully at our tiny bunny, clearly saying “If you get any closer I will… um.. I will savagely wet myself! Just see if I don't!" I’ll post it as I can.

It’s Stuart’s birthday this week. It doesn’t seem possible that it has been a full year since Doug called to tell us that Marci had given birth. I miss them all so much at times, down there in faraway Dallas, that I feel as though a chunk of me had been surgically removed.

Time may be a hard mistress. But distance is a complete b*tch.

A shout out to my friend Lisa (who I absolutely don't deserve as a friend). And to my friend Kelly, up in cold and windy Chicago. Hope you get that job!! I keep meaning to put a link from my blog to Lisa's, but lack of internet access at home prevents me from doing any work on my site for the moment. But you can still get to it from here.

 
“...and a Bell is ringing in the village square for the rabbits on the run.”
~Sir Paul McCartney~

Once again Innisfree has extended her protection, and our family has increased by one.

The magic of this old house and grounds is that it is where the rejected, the lost, and the unwanted find a home. I was reminded of this the other day – this bond the five of us share. Even Wicker, whom we set out to purchase, came to us because the woman who had contracted to buy her decided she didn’t want her after all. We are an Island of the Lost.

And now we have Henrietta.

Jacquelyn spent the other night at her parents house, in the rural areas outside Lexington. She is scheduled to undergo eye surgery on Tuesday and was keeping an appointment with the doctors to ensure that her eyes are indeed good candidates for the procedure which should (hopefully) restore a good deal of her site.

And her Dad presented her with a surprise.

The white trash inbreds who live in the trailer across the ravine (or “holler”) have been buying up domestic bunnies and releasing them for their dogs to practice their hunting and killing skills on. Of 20 little rabbits, all were torn to bits but one that found her way across to my Father-In-Law’s fruit trees. There she was trapped (after he noticed that something was chowing down on the bark of his tress) and Jacquelyn was offered the chance to take her (they know how “silly we are about animals”) before he shot her.

And so we now have a tiny black bunny with white paws, who told me her name is Henrietta (though she rather likes “Hetty”).

Jacquelyn arrived home Fridays night with a tiny, terrified creature, and we spent Saturday trying to make her at home in our home… and in slowly introducing the other residents to her.

Wicker – who always seems to understand – knows how to be cautious and gentle. The cats have not posed a threat, but are altogether too interested in their new “sister”. This bears watching, but as we don’t intend to ever leave the bunny out unsupervised, it doesn’t seem to be too great a difficulty.

Understand that they have none of them offered her any threat. The cats just like to sit on the bed and stare, much like they like to sit at the back window and watch the birds at the feeders, but never get overly excited and lunge at the glass. I’d be more worried if I didn’t know for a fact that Simon, when she was a n outdoor cat, used to sleep in the sun beneath the feeders whilst they were full of birds – which she completely ignored. She’s just not much of a hunter, that one. I thought Duncan was going to start grooming Hetty this morning, but she limited herself to just snuffling her.

Speaking of feeders, I’ve been putting dried ears of corn out for our squirrel. My mother thinks I’m quite mad for this, as she and Dad were greatly troubled by hordes of rapacious, house-eating “tree-rats” (as my Dad used to call them). But those are urban creatures and we tend not to have them here in the wilds. We have red squirrels (as opposed to the house-eating grays). And we have amazingly few even of those.

Okay… actually we have one. One little part gray/part red squirrel (she must be female… everyone else at Innisfree is but me) who has been with us for a little over a year and centers her activities in the big tree just off the back deck. I hadn’t seen her for awhile, but noticed that there was bark being stripped from the lower limbs of her tree.

Now animals don’t eat bark unless they are desperate. So I got a little squirrel feeder and started putting out ears of corn for her. And I’ve been rewarded by seeing her gradually starting to regain a little weight. I’ve got pics, but used my standard 35 mm camera.. so you’ll have to wait until I can get them developed and scanned.

Hetty, for her part, is settling in nicely. Today she is all bright eyes and curiosity, even venturing out to play with Jacquelyn on the bed. I had described the bunny love of tossing things to her, and Hetty came through, tossing around a toilet paper roll and the little “busy ball” we got her. She even managed a small “bunny spaz” (think of a small, fat, furry pony kicking up its heels). This is a very good sign.

So… all is well here in the peaceable kingdom. Good to be back from three days at Fort Knox. Saw our dear friends the Schmidts last night. Even went to a party thrown by one of Jacquelyn’s work-mates last week (and that, folks, is LOVE. You want to see me at a party? Imagine a dog walking on its hind legs.. an action that is possible, but certainly not natural. Thank God we weren’t there long).

So work has been brutal. We have another mouth. I’m worried about my sweet baby. But basically all is well here in Innisfree.

A shout out to my buddies Ladybug and Tiggy over "across the pond". Sorry I haven’t “talked” to you guys in months… but life keeps intervening. And your prayers for friend Maynagirl are requested, as her young dog Krissy has cancer and cannot be saved. And for friend Ellen who continues to be in intense pain though the Mayo clinic cannot tell why.

I continue to be a very lucky man.

 
Some days it doesn’t pay to get out of bed.

Oi! I owe so many letters to so many people! Hopefully some of them read this. I'm feeling frankly pitiful.

I was looking forward to Monday. I had a prep day and nothing really pressing on the horizon. All I really needed to get done was go to the grocery and get some staples and some dog food. And Tuesday I was to teach Photoshop at an onsite.. on their computers, so no need to haul laptops.

Monday morning I awake after a sleepless night feeling like death and running a fever. Everything I had planned to do during the day was now out of the question.. except for the groceries. Then Jacq called to let me know that I’d left my keys in her car, so the groceries were a no-go as well. (By this time Wicker is beginning to look at me reproachfully). I went back to bed.

Fast forward to 4 p.m. Regina calls (our business manager). The Photoshop/Pagemaker class (which they’ve dithered around with for a month, trying to decide if it is going to happen or not) is decidedly “on”. But there’s a catch: they can’t confirm that the onsite computers have either Photoshop or Pagemaker on them. So I have to come get computers. Which I can’t do till the next day, since I don’t have keys and Jacq won’t be home till 11 p.m. Okay.. no panic. “Where’s the onsite?” I ask. “Fort Knox”

Yes.. that Fort Knox. In case you don’t know Kentucky geography (and who would bother?) that’s 50 miles from where I work. And I live thirty miles from where I work… in the other direction.

So the bottom line is this: get up (with fever) at 4 a.m. and drive 30 miles. Load 10 computers and books and peripheral and odds and ends into the car. And set out to be at Fort Knox by 7 a.m. so I can set up the computers in time for an 8 a.m. class.

Interesting place, Fort Knox. Firstly, it is HUGE… easily the size of a medium sized city. Secondly… I guess nothing ever really changes… Caeser’s troops would have felt at home there. As I approached, I could tell my proximity by the number of strip clubs and paycheck cashing establishments per square mile.

I was rather amazed at the security arrangements… I took the precaution of trimming my beard; I usually keep it cut quit close, because if I don’t, it eats my head and I was worried that someone looking like Fidel Castro might have a degree of difficulty accessing one of America’s most sensitive locations.

In fact, I was more worried about being a stranger with a car load of suspicious-looking black cases (five). I was expecting searches.. maybe dogs. Hells bells, I know what I would do if I was looking for bombs!

So I pulled up to the guard at the front gate and showed him my driver’s license.

“I’m here to teach a computer class.” I said.
“Ok.” He said, and waved me through.

Um…..

Um…. Hello? Aren’t we at war? Don’t we hear about threat indicators every night on the evening news? (And let me tell you… the Threat Indicators are the source of much humor among government staff, I found.)

And then there is my onsite report:

“Still feeling like hell and running a mild fever. Got here. Got set up. Class went.

As there is neither internet access nor a local line (and my mobile was reading “no service”), I did not phone home. Mea Culpa.

Huge thanks to Regina for getting me the help desk codes and to Todd for getting the machines loaded in time. Kudos, folks!

The map to the building from the front gate was very clear and concise (thank you!) save for two minor points:

a) Directions to Fort Knox which omit any mention of how to actually get to Fort Knox might possibly be considered by an impartial observer to be somewhat incomplete.

b) For future reference, the building, which was described as being “on a hill” is, in fact, in a depression. As was I after having toured all the buildings on hills in the vicinity at 7 a.m..

Once again.. no exercise files on the computers for either class. I don’t mind, really. But if this is to be the norm, then we ought to be told flat out and not left to guess. God knows, I try to be flexible and anticipate the unexpected. But if we are to have to notify the accounts staff if our clients break wind (yes, I exaggerate… a bit), it seems only fair that there be a little quid quo pro, yeah? I mean, the files for Pagemaker run to 20 megabytes and taking them along is not really a simple matter of slinging them onto a floppy, y’know? A little advance notice is all we ask.

Hugs and warm fuzzies.”

P.S.
By this time, Wicker is no longer looking at me reproachfully. She is looking at me as a meal. I may have to feed her one of the cats!

 
It's About Bloody Time!

I couldn't watch the telecast last night, for fear the Lord of the Rings would be snubbed yet again. I've never gotten over losing out that first year to the dreadful "Opie Does Mental Illness" with that boorish Australian prat, Crowe.

But they finally got it right, they did. Little rumpled Peter Jackson, filming not one, but three films simultaniously (each of which had long been held as "unfilmable") and Miramax studios, (which literally gambled the future of the company on a relative unknown doing something never before attempted) got the reward they so richly deserved last night.

There is yet a modicum of justice in this world.

 
Paradise Lost

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen cherries
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping
than you can understand

The Stolen Child
~W.B.Yeats~

I came here to escape from tumult and from pain. And I've found peace amongst my trees and ferns and deer and rabbits and birds. But the cancer of humanity is spreading, and I fear that my peace may not be long lived.

Once, I could walk into the woods and sit amidst the ferns. And with nothing else around, I entered another world, where it seemed almost possible that the sprites and spirits of the wild were moving somewhere just beyond my gaze.

But all the trees have been cut down up to my property line now, and there is no longer any place I can go where I cannot see or hear the intrusions of humanity. All the farms nearby are selling off their land as families retire or move away. Where once there were fields of corn and hay, there are signs advertising "Spring Vista Condominiums" or "Rock Creek Deluxe Apartments"

I hate land developers, and hate is not a word I like to use lightly. They are vermin and destroyers that suck up every scrap of land that they can lay their greedy hands on (never in their own back yards, mind. They are invariably outsiders) and then strip it, to blight the landscape with strip malls and condos before moving on to the next location. They are like a plague of locusts, and they have struck here.

America.. the land where money is God and everything is for sale. Where dressing children like whores and plowing under every scrap of land is just fine as long as there's a healthy profit to be had. No wonder this country is soul-sick, where there is no respite but concrete and asphalt and fluorescent lighting.

The backwoods drive to Corydon that used to bring me such joy now brings only sadness and rage as bulldozers strip more and more of the land for subdivisions. (If these people wanted to live in the suburbs, why the hell didn't they STAY in the suburbs?) Damn the "developers" and let them burn. When will those with enough finally be content? When will we learn that "fair market value" is not the begin all and end all of worth?

I feel that I am on as island in the middle of a river flood, watching the waters grow ever higher. And when I am gone.. what of my little home then? What of my deer? What of my birds and land?




Ferns, sacred to the wee folk (aka The People Under the Hill)

 
It's a Mystery

Every day, we are supposed to send a report to our supervisors on the events of the day's class. Here's an pretty typical example from one of my colleagues (and a fairly verbose one at that):

We had a few good discussions about e-mail related things, not all falling under Outlook. The majority of the class was from the same company, they came back from lunch late. Started without them. ILM was fine."

Here's the one I sent in today, posted (like this) from an onsite location in New Albany:


The usual sorts of thing for Crystal Reports, especially at an onsite. The exercise files don't especially like being accessed via their network server. Some of the class are clueless, but others have been using the software in this environment (SQL) for years. So there's the usual hammer/anvil assault of complex questions for which I have no answers, but attempt to try t o answer anyway. As always, one does one's best for the customer, and I've been designing additional exercises and adding any material I feel might be advantageous to the students in their particular environment.

It would be lovely if we could somehow acquire some degree of experience in this regard. Using a PC database, when it comes to linking, I am only able to describe the linking options for SQL, as they are grayed out. Having only ever run the exercise files, I'm in the unfortunate position of trying to describe behaviors and/or situations which I've personally never seen to people who deal with them on a daily basis. It's a little like my High School experience of having to take a Sex Ed class from a nun.

On a brighter note, the facility is lovely, the support staff genuinely supportive, and the class is possessed of a sense of humor. This latter is especially unusual in people using this program and a nice change from the last CR onsite

And of course there's the sheer entertainment value of the fact that we can see out the window a large van (brought in for the express purpose of neutering people's cats) bearing t he legend in bold letters on the sides "NEUTER SCOOTER".

God bless Indiana!

Oh.. and ILM worked just fine


I really don't understand why my supervisor's think I'm difficult and strange... :)

 
Another hero gone.

Last week Bob Keeshan died.
It’s difficult really.. to even know what to say. Captain Kangaroo was one of those things I counted on as a kid. He was like the sun or the air or your parents – something that you just knew would always be there.

Except now he isn’t .

I’ve found that it’s difficult trying to explain what he meant to me to other folks who hail from different eras. And I absolutely WILL NOT talk about what he meant to “my generation”. Because as every kid who understood and loved the show knows, I was the only one watching. And the Captain was spending time with only me. There was no sense of “generation” and no rowdy peanut gallery of kids. It was a visit from your grand-dad… only cooler. That was the genius of the man and the show. It was a very special, very private thing.

And private things are notoriously hard to describe.

No Atticus Finch, and now no Captain Kangaroo. I did not fully realise until they left that I was communing with giants in a land of dwarves.

I guess the best I can do is thank you, Captain for always being there. Thank you for providing the safe haven of the Treasure House. And thank you for teaching me pretty much everything I know that is worth knowing

And when my time comes to be a Dad, I’ll try very, very hard to fill the shoes you left.


Bob Keeshan 1927 - 2004

 
'Wee Sleekit, couring, timorous beastie'

(Sigh) We have mice. Again.

What am I saying? We live in the country. We always have mice. But in the winter, they like to camp out in our house and chew holes in things and come leaping out of the pantry or diving down the burners on the stove and generally scare the !@#$! out of us. Amazingly, in a house that boasts not one, but TWO cats, our moggies have yet to catch a single mouse. Hells bells, they've never even seen one yet. I'm the one who sees them -- and have yet to be able to engage the interest of the cats, who are usually to be found patiently waiting next to the fridge for the (dead) mouse under it to come out.

They've been waiting a loooong time.

But I digress. In previous years, I set traps. But I've had to dispatch too many wounded and suffering beasties in my time when the trap fails to catch cleanly. And poisons are out, because of the cats (who would eat the poisoned mice) and the dog (who would eat the poison. Dogs, for unknown reasons, love the taste of D-Con). And so the mice have prospered.

Some years back, I had a smart mouse. I would carefully set traps along her runs on the kitchen counters each night, baited with peanut butter. And each morning I would find them empty... all traces of bait licked cleanly away. I tried soaking bits of fabric in bait and hand sewing them to the trigger with thread. Those too were picked clean by the next day. Eventually, she was not only cleaning out my traps each night, but then making a show of pushing them down the length of the countertops, as if to say "Thank you. You may take these away now." Honestly, it would not have surprised my unduly if I had come downstairs one morning to find her reading the paper.

In time, I grew so fond of my Super Mouse that I no longer had the will to see her killed. So I got one of those plastic traps that catches the mouse live for releasing outdoors (well, to be honest, the instructions tell you how to sink the trap in a bucket of water to drown the critter. But come ON!). After a few days I nabbed her, took her far out into the countryside and released her into the woods. The entire drive, she sat up and just watched me with her big brown eyes while I talked to her.

So now her colleagues are back. It took me awhile to catch their elder. Not that she was subtle; about half the time on opening the pantry there would be a mad scurrying and I'd find a tiny pair of eyes peering at me from behind the canned goods. But she managed to avoid the traps for a good many weeks before she succumbed to my hunting wiles. (ok... in reality, she ignored my traps and was only caught when Jacquelyn baited one). And now we get the younger (and stupider) mice. Some mornings, we have one in both traps. On at least one memorable occasion, we found one mouse in a trap, and on visiting it a short while later, a second mouse had wedged herself in beside the first!

It is not uncommon in the mornings then, to see my driving down country roads with a passenger seat full of tiny occupants. I think of this as a sort of emigration program, not unlike the one England operated in the last century. I'm just carting them all off to a mouse Australia. Who knows? In a few years the fields a few miles from here there may develop a strain of mice that drink Fosters and wear tiny bush vests.

Hey... It could happen!

 
"Over the river and through the woods..."

Well.. the holiday season has passed and nobody died at a family-member’s hands. That marks it as a success in my book.

Jacq. Had to work Christmas even, so we didn’t drive out to see her parents until that evening, and then returned home to following morning. The festivities were less nerve-wracking than in years past. My in-laws (both of whom I respect and admire greatly) like to give. And in the past this led to Christmases of almost mind-numbing extravagance. The unwrapping of gifts created mountains of paper literally waste high in their (very) large family room. But this year, my Mother-In-Law decided that restraint was a better option, and so the evening was relatively quiet and pleasant. My niece didn’t go utterly over-the-top with gift lust. And with the exception of one of my sisters-in-law (loving referred to by yours truly as the “Orc-Princess”) everyone was quite pleasant. It had been way too long since we saw everyone.

Of course I heard nothing from my former in-laws, despite my former sister-in-law’s recent assertion that she would “never, ever abandon” me. I haven’t seen my niece and nephew (who once formed the center of my universe) in over two years. Interesting set of values, those folks. Wealth may make you “Upper Class”, but it certainly doesn’t make you classy.

And then at New Years, we drove west to St. Louis to visit my Mum. It was our first visit (aside from the quick trip to see Stuart) since she sold the house and moved into her apartment, and we still have some kinks to work out. Haven’t yet found a nearby hostelry that accepts pets, so we had to board Wicker the night before we departed, and left the two cats to fend for themselves. Poor Duncan was so upset at the dog’s absence that she wandered from room to room the whole evening, crying loudly, and slept in Wicker’s cage that night – I suppose to be near things that smelled like her friend.

The trip itself was uneventful, and the visit nice. Four days in a facility in which my mother is nearly the ONLY person not using a walker of wheelchair (coupled with Mom’s relating the story of nearly every death in the family due to cancer) certainly put me in mind of my own mortality, however. And as nice as the motel was, I simply can’t sleep well in a bed that’s not my own. (oddly enough, I can sleep on any couch or floor, anytime, anywhere). So it was good to get home.

The only interesting side note was my visit to my Dad’s grave. I usually take some small token.. usually a tiny bottle of Tanqueray or B&B -- both of which he loved – to sprinkle on the grave. Just a little private gesture. And I thought I’d go the morning of our departure home, as the cemetery is on the way. Naturally though, as the weather had been balmy and calm every other day, THAT day it was blowing like mad and sheeting down vast amounts of ice-cold rain.

The cemetery folks had also begun construction on a new set of graves. Dad is buried on a hillside, which has been terraced with a series of stone walls with markers set into the stonework. The walkway up the hill was roped off and covered in construction debris, so I had no choice but to mount the hillside by climbing up the succession of stone walls.

So there I stood, in the pouring rain, out of breath, my jacket over my head, pouring out a tiny bottle of gin and missing hell out of my Dad. When ice water started to trickle down my neck I decided it was time to return to the car (and my wife) and hit the road. So I began to climb back down the stone retaining walls. As I jumped from the first, my feet hit the very wet and wet squelchy mud of the hillside, did a runner, and landed me rather spectacularly face-down in the mud, and sliding several feet forward over some stranger’s grave.

I was NOT a happy camper when I got back to the car.

And now we are all home again. Wicker had all her shots during her confinement, and we had her shaved owing to the heavy knots in her fur. So now she looks like some sort of tiny, mutant Dalmatian. Duncan was so happy to have her back that she can hardly leave the poor beast alone. While Simon seems to have forgotten all about Wicker (or doesn’t recognize her without fur) and for the past three days has been hiding on the top of the bookcase in abject terror. For her part, Wicker-dog is feeling decidedly pitiful after all her shots, and wants nothing more than to curl up near one of us and get a little TLC.

Lastly… almost have the wall hanging I’m working on for Stuart done. It shouldn't have taken anywhere near this long, but it’s been 5 years since I’ve sewn, so I keep screwing up. The decorative frosted glass panel for the front door in done and installed. And the stained glass window for the transom is in progress (you can tell by the hundreds of tiny cuts on my hands). I will post pictures when I can.