Moving Day

I worked 4-10 hour days this week so that I can take off tomorrow and move my junk from my hated Hooterville abode to my new place that while in one of those generic, soulless, cookie-cutter apartment complexes (uh, sorry, apartment homes), it appears to be quite the step-up from whence I came. However, I have this unwelcome feeling of dread that the sword of Damocles is hanging over my head and it could be that unbeknownst to me a noisy family of 6 will be my upstairs neighbors or that the water is so hard it will turn my dishes and clothes orange. I mean, what does it mean when the leasing agent conveniently told me after I'd signed the lease that some residents run some orange kool-aid through their machines now and then? I may be repeating this exercise sooner rather than later.

Nonetheless, I look forward to no longer seeing my neighbor who drives around in his giant Ford with giant confederate flags flapping in the breeze whilst his horn blares out "Dixie." I will not miss the totally clueless perenially out-of-work guy who likes to race his very loud toy cars out in the parking lot at 2 am. I will not miss my downstairs neighbor who yells obscenities at his wife and I will not miss the 4 barely out of adolescence men-children who live across the hall and play Metallica a stadium-level sound. And, I will not miss dealing with an apartment office staff that can most diplomatically be described as "charm-free."

I will however, miss the trees and my view of downtown from my balcony. I hope the change will do me good.

Lady Bird

If you will allow me a deviation from my tendency to avoid sentimentality.........

When people ask me where I'm from--originally--I truthfully answer "Dallas, Texas." However, the majority of my tender formative years were spent in the Texas Hill Country in a town that I couldn't wait to get out of. The recent flooding, and now the death of Lady Bird Johnson has brought back many memories. I was told that two of the fatalities from flooding were the parents of a boy I went to school with. I hadn't thought about him in many, many years. In many ways he and I were typical band geeks, although I was less reviled by the "popular" kids for some reason. In our town, if you were male, not particularly good-looking, and especially if you weren't athletic, you were at high risk of being labeled "fag" or "fairy." I don't know whatever happened to him--he graduated a year before me and got the hell outta Dodge. But hearing about his parents, and thinking about him brought back memories of why I hated small-town living.

However, I must confess that I have more pleasant memories when I think of Lady Bird Johnson. Whatever anyone would say about LBJ and his legacy as President, and whatever the reality is, I will forever associate Lady Bird Johnson with the things I love about Texas, and happier times growing up. The Johnson ranch was less than 20 miles from my town and very close by, if not actually part of the ranch that became a state park, was a large public swimming pool. My mother would pack my brother, sister and I in the Ford station wagon and go--often spending an entire afternoon. It was always blistering hot and there was a very intimidating diving board--off of which I experienced my first "belly-buster." I also remember hearing my grandmother talk about how "gracious" Lady Bird was, how she was a model of what was accepted as true Texas feminity--keep your chin up, your liptstick fresh and a scarf to keep your hairdo intact. All while standing by your man, and especially if you're watching your man take the Presidential oath of office while the recently widowed Jackie Kennedy stands nearby in shock in her blood-soaked pink suit. However, for many people like me, Lady Bird is most remembered for her love of flowers and her work to beautify Texas highways. I always associate the Bluebonnet and Indian Paintbrush with her and remember certain times of the year that you could drive and see fields and fields of these flowers. There is a famous photograph of Lady Bird, taken by Dennis Fagan, that makes me very sentimental for the Texas I prefer to remember. I'll not post it here, but will provide a link.

When I heard she'd died, I suddenly craved the sound of my own grandmother's voice.

For My Friend Who Has Never Seen The Simpsons!

Catholic and Protestant Heaven

Scooter Libby And Others Thankful For Not Being Chinese

So China is executing corrupt government officials now? Yan Jiangying, deputy policy director of the State Food and Drug Administration referred to the "shame" that Zheng Xiaoyu and other corrupt officials had brought on their country.

There is no shame in being corrupt in this country anymore. Inconvenience, yes, and sometimes expensive and a career-ender, but shame? Not so much. In fact, sometimes it is downright profitable and can be a ticket to high office.

Are Children an Oppressed Class?

For those of you who have heard me complain about unpleasant encounters with ill-mannered children and parents who believe the world owes them a favor for procreating, I provide a link to an interesting discussion about feminism and children over at I Blame The Patriarchy. I'm particularly pondering one commenter's suggestion that my annoyance about such children and parents is itself a product of the patriarchy. Thoughts?

On a side note, I provide photos of one of my favorite recent Hawaii moments. This was taken at the Panalu'u Black Sand Beach on the southern coast of the Big Island. The black sand here results from the collision of hot lava with the cooler ocean, and the lava shatters into tiny bits. These bits are futher weathered by the ocean into the black sand. Absolutely beautiful.