I think the main reason anti-Trump people are so livid about this election is that his win highlights their hypocrisies.
Yes. I said that.
I go on record here with this: I am not a big Trump fan. I called him a troll of the Republican party. But the troll won. So life goes on.
But how is it that he showcases their hypocrisies?
1. Bill Clinton was accused of rape by more than one woman. Women *still* flocked to him, voting him into office. Twice. Yet, here we are with Trump's vile talk against women. Now women who once talked of engaging in lewd behavior with Clinton are angry. Mrs. Clinton called these Trump supporters "deplorables." Was it not deplorables, using her definition, that got her 8 years of living in the White House? And all the while, her husband was still behaving badly. Womanizing. Boxers or briefs?
2. Trump is Russia's pick. Okay. What of it? Do you really think that Russia has never cared before? Go read some history. Just as much as the US has cared about elections in other countries, other countries have cared about ours. Remember also, please, where Hillary's off-shore support was coming from...
3. ...Big oil. Remember how the Democrats/Progressives railed about big oil interests in the Bush family? Hillary has the same support. But it's okay this time?
4. Rigged elections? The Queen of Rigged is Hillary herself. Remember Bernie Sanders? And what of accepting the results of the election? Mr. Gore?
5. Mr. Trump skipped security briefings. You know something, Hillary must have done the same thing. How else can one live in the White House 8 years, work in the Capitol for 8 years, and spend time as Secretary of State--and NOT know the difference between a secure and non-secure device? She is either really stupid or she flat out lied to everyone and couldn't be bothered to tell us the truth.
And I can go on. Mr. Trump this; Mr. Trump that. Stop. Grow up. Handle it. Admit the truth that the GOP started playing by your rules and now you are scared because deep down you know how bad your rules are. And you are afraid of this taste of your own medicine.
Fix it. Play by better rules.
Monday, January 16, 2017
Saturday, January 14, 2017
Give that girl a Snickers and some Midol
La Nina is here and she is in a particularly bad mood, in case you haven't noticed. We here in the Portland Metro area have endured a lot of unusual weather and I can't say we've endured it gracefully. I think we've endured it worse than we typically would, actually. Let me explain why I think this is so.
Our microclimate, I guess you'd call it, is affected by a lot of other microclimates. We have the Columbia River Gorge creating it's own set of circumstances, we have the coast trying to push its weather through but then it hits the coast range and the two climates meet. Then we have the valley climate. And the foothill climate. And one of these is going to win, but most times it's difficult to tell which one that will be.
Which leads to the average Portlander not believing there will be snow or ice because it rarely ever happens as the forecasters predict. Actually, in my experience, the worst time (or best times if you are a real snow lover) are the times that catch the forecasters off guard.
So, here's what happened. The first round of unpleasantness rolled in exactly as scheduled. We were taken by surprise because that is a rarity here. Portland was log jammed. It was horrible for everyone. Wrecked cars, children on buses until midnight; some kept at school overnight. Plows were stuck in those traffic jams, as were the gravel trucks. Portland experienced a lot of anger.
Seriously, around here, when the first snowflakes fall, people know it's time to get home. So they all headed out at once. They don't stay with their cars. They abandon them when they can't go any further. Just trust me when I tell you that it is a mess. We hit national news because of our unpreparedness.
Enter storm number two. Yes, we got a second major for us event. Everything came crashing to a halt. And made news. It made news because once again, it caught us off guard. I know--right on schedule. But to be fair, it hit a little early. Panic. We can't help it. We know we are in trouble.
But it wasn't over. Before event number two--or maybe it was already event number three (this is how messy it's been this winter)--was even over, out came word that the next event was going to hit us. And they couldn't tell what direction it was going to take. It looked like ice. Wednesday, they said.
Hello Tuesday. The snow began to fall fast and heavy. And it started earlier than expected. They told us that it would likely turn to ice again within about two hours. But it continued to dump snow. It dumped and dumped and dumped. Even NWS Portland kind of gave up trying to figure out what was going to come down. (Whoever is in charge of their Twitter account has a grand sense of humor.)
My house ended the drama with 8 inches of snow. Friends of mine ended with 13 inches. We shut down. There is no going anywhere when these events are so rare that your government entities don't stock a huge fleet of plows.
There is no denying the beauty of the fresh snow. There is no denying the great enjoyment of a true snow day. There is no denying the exhaustion that comes at the end when the kids go to bed and and sleep 13 or 14 hours.
There is no denying that it's nice to be at the end of it.
So, my conclusion is that La Nina is in an extremely bad mood this year. She needs some Midol and a Snickers.
Our microclimate, I guess you'd call it, is affected by a lot of other microclimates. We have the Columbia River Gorge creating it's own set of circumstances, we have the coast trying to push its weather through but then it hits the coast range and the two climates meet. Then we have the valley climate. And the foothill climate. And one of these is going to win, but most times it's difficult to tell which one that will be.
Which leads to the average Portlander not believing there will be snow or ice because it rarely ever happens as the forecasters predict. Actually, in my experience, the worst time (or best times if you are a real snow lover) are the times that catch the forecasters off guard.
So, here's what happened. The first round of unpleasantness rolled in exactly as scheduled. We were taken by surprise because that is a rarity here. Portland was log jammed. It was horrible for everyone. Wrecked cars, children on buses until midnight; some kept at school overnight. Plows were stuck in those traffic jams, as were the gravel trucks. Portland experienced a lot of anger.
Seriously, around here, when the first snowflakes fall, people know it's time to get home. So they all headed out at once. They don't stay with their cars. They abandon them when they can't go any further. Just trust me when I tell you that it is a mess. We hit national news because of our unpreparedness.
Enter storm number two. Yes, we got a second major for us event. Everything came crashing to a halt. And made news. It made news because once again, it caught us off guard. I know--right on schedule. But to be fair, it hit a little early. Panic. We can't help it. We know we are in trouble.
But it wasn't over. Before event number two--or maybe it was already event number three (this is how messy it's been this winter)--was even over, out came word that the next event was going to hit us. And they couldn't tell what direction it was going to take. It looked like ice. Wednesday, they said.
Hello Tuesday. The snow began to fall fast and heavy. And it started earlier than expected. They told us that it would likely turn to ice again within about two hours. But it continued to dump snow. It dumped and dumped and dumped. Even NWS Portland kind of gave up trying to figure out what was going to come down. (Whoever is in charge of their Twitter account has a grand sense of humor.)
There is no denying the beauty of the fresh snow. There is no denying the great enjoyment of a true snow day. There is no denying the exhaustion that comes at the end when the kids go to bed and and sleep 13 or 14 hours.
There is no denying that it's nice to be at the end of it.
So, my conclusion is that La Nina is in an extremely bad mood this year. She needs some Midol and a Snickers.
Friday, January 6, 2017
Just a little amazed
Hannah had been applying for regular, civilian jobs since she turned 16. She had put in over 60 applications and every one of them had been turned down. (It's really hard to motivate a person who keeps facing that.) She didn't have experience, but then she couldn't get a job to get experience. It was losing all around for her. And it was very discouraging.
I know that she's a very smart, very capable human being. I wanted anyone to believe that of her and take a chance.
Enter Sgt. Phal. He met her while she was taking her GEDs at Willow Creek. They chatted. He gave her a card. She put the card away and thought little more about it. Well, until 10 more applications were turned down. Then the Army began to sound kind of good. It would be a job.
The more she thought about it, the more it seemed to be her only hope of work.
And with that, we got on the merry-go-round. That thing was spinning fast. I had to get this, that, and the other thing together in a very short amount of time. And it all happened. Quickly. I didn't have to fuss or fight with anyone to get what we needed.
She took her ASVAB and scored quite well. The recruiters were pleased with her score. She took her TAPAS and scored rather high. This wannabe wasn't going to be a nothing. The doctor at her medical stalled her over a really weird thing. The sergeants at the recruiting station blew it off. They said she was going to pass. Somehow they knew this. But her pediatrician gave us a really hard time over the thing. We figured that what she wrote could spell the end of her attempts to enlist. And yet the sergeants said it was really no big thing.
She had to reapply for another position because the original position she wanted was no longer available. The truth is, that was a job for people who barely passed ASVAB. They had grander plans for her.
So, early February, my little Hannah leaves us for the world of adulting. I hope she learns what she needs to learn about how we raised her and about who she is and what she is. I hope she comes to terms with the fact that nothing we ever did was out of disdain for her but because we knew already that great mysteries lay in her.
For now, she's happier than she's been in a long time. She has immediate goals that are attainable and as she learns that she has the power to meet those goals, the more future goals (AIT) seem more attainable too. And she's excited.
And these are such beautiful things to see blossoming in her.
I know that she's a very smart, very capable human being. I wanted anyone to believe that of her and take a chance.
Enter Sgt. Phal. He met her while she was taking her GEDs at Willow Creek. They chatted. He gave her a card. She put the card away and thought little more about it. Well, until 10 more applications were turned down. Then the Army began to sound kind of good. It would be a job.
The more she thought about it, the more it seemed to be her only hope of work.
And with that, we got on the merry-go-round. That thing was spinning fast. I had to get this, that, and the other thing together in a very short amount of time. And it all happened. Quickly. I didn't have to fuss or fight with anyone to get what we needed.
She took her ASVAB and scored quite well. The recruiters were pleased with her score. She took her TAPAS and scored rather high. This wannabe wasn't going to be a nothing. The doctor at her medical stalled her over a really weird thing. The sergeants at the recruiting station blew it off. They said she was going to pass. Somehow they knew this. But her pediatrician gave us a really hard time over the thing. We figured that what she wrote could spell the end of her attempts to enlist. And yet the sergeants said it was really no big thing.
She had to reapply for another position because the original position she wanted was no longer available. The truth is, that was a job for people who barely passed ASVAB. They had grander plans for her.
So, early February, my little Hannah leaves us for the world of adulting. I hope she learns what she needs to learn about how we raised her and about who she is and what she is. I hope she comes to terms with the fact that nothing we ever did was out of disdain for her but because we knew already that great mysteries lay in her.
For now, she's happier than she's been in a long time. She has immediate goals that are attainable and as she learns that she has the power to meet those goals, the more future goals (AIT) seem more attainable too. And she's excited.
And these are such beautiful things to see blossoming in her.
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
What I am reading
Sarah and I just finished Caddie Woodlawn by Carol Ryrie Brink today. I knew she'd love Caddie because Caddie was a tomboy. I was not mistaken. Also, now I can go around quoting, "If at first you don't fricassee, fry fry a hen" and get a proper response.
I have a lot of non-fiction going.
The Forgotten Man: A New History of the Great Depression by Amity Schlaes has been very engaging. I've got it all marked up with notes and questions for further research. It is very well-written and easy to follow.
The Communist Manifesto and Other Revolutionary Writings, edited by Blaisdel is just what it says it is--a collection of writings by the "revolutionaries." I started this one a long time ago and the Schlaes book got me interested in reading it again. It's a little more time consuming than Schlaes' book, but honestly, it's a book worth reading. How can you know what these men said if you don't read them?
I am re-reading my volume of Emily Dickinson poems and I am re-reading A Tale of Two Cities. With every re-reading of Two Cities, I find I have forgotten so many details. Also, Madame Defarge gets creepier.
I have a couple of others that I've put aside because they are not nearly as engaging as The Forgotten Man. It's a bit odd to say that I've put aside fiction for non-fiction.
I have a lot of non-fiction going.
The Forgotten Man: A New History of the Great Depression by Amity Schlaes has been very engaging. I've got it all marked up with notes and questions for further research. It is very well-written and easy to follow.
The Communist Manifesto and Other Revolutionary Writings, edited by Blaisdel is just what it says it is--a collection of writings by the "revolutionaries." I started this one a long time ago and the Schlaes book got me interested in reading it again. It's a little more time consuming than Schlaes' book, but honestly, it's a book worth reading. How can you know what these men said if you don't read them?
I am re-reading my volume of Emily Dickinson poems and I am re-reading A Tale of Two Cities. With every re-reading of Two Cities, I find I have forgotten so many details. Also, Madame Defarge gets creepier.
I have a couple of others that I've put aside because they are not nearly as engaging as The Forgotten Man. It's a bit odd to say that I've put aside fiction for non-fiction.
Monday, January 2, 2017
The dog, the drugs, and the fireworks
Lugnut, bless his doggie heart, is terrified of fireworks. I don't mean he cowers and trembles. I mean he tears things up. He tries to break glass doors. We tried all the things...pheromone collars, white noise, music, Thundershirt and many combinations. Nothing worked to calm him. It's frustrating and irritating. We just want him to understand logic and chill, but he's a dog. A dog is not intended to understand logic anymore than a toddler understands logic.
Those are just noises outside, Lugs. They are not going to hurt you. You have been hearing them all your life and you have not died yet.
Yeah, reasoning is futile.
So, we went for the anti-anxiety medications. It's a drug combination, actually. Two of these pills and one and a half of these will lull him into a a doped state that allows him no cares at all (in theory) and renders him unable to move mostly.
Here's the thing. We never know how quickly these will go into effect with him. The first time we used them, they took about 12 hours (or maybe longer). All I can tell you is that he was a wreck all through the noisiest part of the night and the next morning he was out of it. So, based on this reasoning I drugged him sooner the next time. Then it took to working just about the right time and it didn't take a whole of crazy calming from me. However, the next time took effect too late again. So, this time we determined to drug him early and drug him often. I gave him the first dose at 9am. It took affect almost immediately, but he didn't go floppy. He merely went loopy. I gave him the next dose at 5pm. He went pretty immobile, but he could still do enough panic. I was at a loss. Then the amazing thing happened. About the time the Whistling Pete's took off, I managed to get him into a coma. He dozed soundly through the next half hour. This was 7 hours after the administration of the 2nd dose.
I figured I would stay up until he began to be mobile again so I could get both dogs into the mudroom for the night. At 1am, he still couldn't move. At 2am, he still wasn't moving and he seemed to be in a very deep sleep. I went to the sofa. I fell asleep. Before 15 minutes had passed, he was doing this woof that he does when he needs something. He wouldn't be shushed so I got up. He looked at me and went right back to sleep. After he'd slept about 15 more minutes, I tried the sofa again. Not 8 minutes later, he was woofing for me again. And again. And again.
He finally fell into a good slumber about 3am. I went to the sofa where I slept until he realized he was still alive at 5. I stayed up.
The kids figured it out. Lugs had decided that he was at the gate of the Rainbow Bridge and he wanted me to hold his hand while he crossed. But a miracle happened. He got breakfast. Then I offered him outside. But outside was useless because his back legs were broken. Then I offered him squirrel. Hallelujah! Squirrel! Suddenly his back legs worked again and he was out (albeit rather wobble-footed) and ready to walk away from the Rainbow Bridge.
Today he was his normal, playing with his bear, barking at the neighbors self. I'm exhausted.
Those are just noises outside, Lugs. They are not going to hurt you. You have been hearing them all your life and you have not died yet.
Yeah, reasoning is futile.
So, we went for the anti-anxiety medications. It's a drug combination, actually. Two of these pills and one and a half of these will lull him into a a doped state that allows him no cares at all (in theory) and renders him unable to move mostly.
Here's the thing. We never know how quickly these will go into effect with him. The first time we used them, they took about 12 hours (or maybe longer). All I can tell you is that he was a wreck all through the noisiest part of the night and the next morning he was out of it. So, based on this reasoning I drugged him sooner the next time. Then it took to working just about the right time and it didn't take a whole of crazy calming from me. However, the next time took effect too late again. So, this time we determined to drug him early and drug him often. I gave him the first dose at 9am. It took affect almost immediately, but he didn't go floppy. He merely went loopy. I gave him the next dose at 5pm. He went pretty immobile, but he could still do enough panic. I was at a loss. Then the amazing thing happened. About the time the Whistling Pete's took off, I managed to get him into a coma. He dozed soundly through the next half hour. This was 7 hours after the administration of the 2nd dose.
I figured I would stay up until he began to be mobile again so I could get both dogs into the mudroom for the night. At 1am, he still couldn't move. At 2am, he still wasn't moving and he seemed to be in a very deep sleep. I went to the sofa. I fell asleep. Before 15 minutes had passed, he was doing this woof that he does when he needs something. He wouldn't be shushed so I got up. He looked at me and went right back to sleep. After he'd slept about 15 more minutes, I tried the sofa again. Not 8 minutes later, he was woofing for me again. And again. And again.
He finally fell into a good slumber about 3am. I went to the sofa where I slept until he realized he was still alive at 5. I stayed up.
The kids figured it out. Lugs had decided that he was at the gate of the Rainbow Bridge and he wanted me to hold his hand while he crossed. But a miracle happened. He got breakfast. Then I offered him outside. But outside was useless because his back legs were broken. Then I offered him squirrel. Hallelujah! Squirrel! Suddenly his back legs worked again and he was out (albeit rather wobble-footed) and ready to walk away from the Rainbow Bridge.
Today he was his normal, playing with his bear, barking at the neighbors self. I'm exhausted.
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