Those Poor Children

Just wrote to my representatives about the children on the border, the ones the US government says it doesn't have to provide food and water and soap for (all while Trump charges the Secret Service, whose job it is to protect him and his family, rent at his properties). Disgusting.

Anyway, here's what I wrote:

I am writing to you today as one decent human being, one decent American, to another.

The migrant children, some as young as 5 months, having not only been ripped away from their families, but now being held without access to proper food, water, medical care, need to be taken care of.

Period.

Full-stop.

Do not use them as a bargaining chip to get funding for any other thing, including immigration enforcement.

Do not use them to complain, as I have keep hearing politicians do, that it’s “the other side’s” fault or that the children’s parents broke the law. I don’t care if their father is Jeffrey Dahmer and their mother is Ted Bundy. Which, incidentally, these people are not. They are refugees. Maybe ones that fit our asylum requirements, maybe not. Maybe they are “only” economic refugees. Maybe they are fleeing climate change or violence. But they are people and they, particularly their children, now artificially orphaned by the Trump Administration’s cruel policies, are in distress.

We are Americans. We take care of children. We take care of people in distress. It is the decent thing to do and Americans are decent people. Those there, on the ground, including government workers, are trying, even coming in on their off hours to help. Other Americans are coming with donations of diapers and soap and toothbrushes and paste – only to be turned away.

Other countries take care of such influxes with refugee camps and invite in organizations like the Red Cross. Why aren’t we doing something like that?

We used to be a country that could handle things like this, would even help other countries.

Please do whatever you can to take care of these children. And do it without delay.

Thank you.

Tchotchkes

I apologize to the college friend to whom I gave two life-sized, carved, wooden geese as a wedding present.

I don’t know what I was thinking.

Tchotchkes. Gimcracks. Doodads. Baubles. Gee Gaws. Knick Knacks. Dust Collectors.

Utterly useless. Oftentimes, ugly and cheap.

(I thought the geese were nice, though.)

 We all end up with such things, often for decades.

For some reason, they can be hard to get rid of.

These photos were taken by my daughter at a thrift store. The people who donated these … things … couldn’t bear to just throw them in the trash. They felt like someone else might … want? need? collect? … them.

I watch those shows, American Pickers and Storage Wars and even the one that started it all, on television at least, Antiques Roadshow, and when they quote some tantalizing price that some “collector” somewhere might pay, I think, “Yeah, show me that collector, right here, right now, with cash in hand, or I am throwing it out.”

Marie Kondo said something in her first book that stuck with me: When (I am paraphrasing here) you are contemplating something someone gave you as a gift but you don’t want, realize that it has served its purpose: that moment, when they gave it to you, a symbol that they had been thinking of you. Marie Kondo would have you thank the thing – and then throw it out!

Note: For anything that might be useful or desirable to someone, I do post it to give away on Nextdoor (and get anywhere from two to a bazillion responses; so, obviously, other people feel differently than me) or I donate it to Salvation Army.

So, my old friend, on whom I poxed those geese: If you haven’t already, please feel free to let them go.

A Dachshund Conundrum

Tony is lucky he's cute.

Dachshunds are notorious for several things: They are difficult to house-train, they hate rain and they  are stubborn.

E.B. White wrote of his dachshund: “When I address Fred I never have to raise either my voice or my hopes. He even disobeys me when I instruct him in something that he wants to do.”

I have run headlong into all these traits in our dachshund mix rescue, Tony.

I did manage to house-train Tony, more or less. You know those dogs who, once house-trained, would rather bust than pee in the house? Not Tony. When left alone, uncrated, I’m pretty sure he rings the bells on our door (how he lets us know he needs to go out), and when no one appears, shrugs his little dachshund shoulders, figures “I did my part” and pees on the floor.

Another charming dachshund trait: He pees when he’s excited. That’s a totally different thing, I tell my skeptical husband. Tony can’t help that.

Tony does hate to go out in the rain. He won’t go out alone, and when I go with him, he used to stand, miserable, getting wet, not doing the business he badly needed to do. We could be in that stand-off for hours.

I decided I’d make that better. I’d teach him the command guide dogs are taught: “Get busy.” Yup, seeing guide dogs are taught to relieve themselves on command.

It was not an onerous lesson. I’d just say the command and give him a treat, once he went. He figured it out quickly. Now, he knew what to do to get to go back in AND he got a treat.

Well … being a stubborn dachshund, he has decided he doesn’t like being told what to do.

He now hates to go outside, period. ☹

Blasts from the Past

Well, so, yeah, when I couldn't get up enough energy to go to bed last night, I Googled myself and came up with these two ancient clips. :)

https://www.nytimes.com/1996/09/04/style/game-not-cattle-on-texas-ranch.html

https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/lifestyle/food/1993/10/20/food-newsletters-eating-between-the-lines/cef0fbf1-598f-45a3-96ba-0442b0631e05/?utm_term=.b9211b8ae28a

Things really don't ever disappear from the internet. :o

Yes, and ....

Really, improv is fun -- if scary -- to do.

Wrote about my experiences with it and Houston's improv scene recently for The Buzz Magazines.

Out and Back

Crescent Beach, Oregon

 My family is getting into hiking. Though we remain rank amateurs, we are learning.

The terminology: out and back (you go out, get to the end and turn around to end up at your starting point), loop (as the name suggests, you go in a big circle and end up back where you started) and point-to-point (you end up at a different place than where you started).

The difficulty rankings: easy, moderate, difficult. Though people have done studies and even math (!) to determine a ranking scale, it’s, of course, kind of a subjective thing.

Easy is easy. Usually short (as short as ¼ of a mile, no longer than 2), flat, this is the trail for strollers and wheelchairs.

Moderate is a leap up from that. Longer: the ones we’ve been on have been 5-6 miles. Some changes in elevation. My phone tells me, when I do one of these, that I’ve climbed anywhere from 40 to 60 flights of stairs.

Moderate is currently our sweet spot.

I’m a little hesitant to try difficult. These trails cover longer distances (8+ miles), with more elevation changes and more difficult terrain, requiring things like “scrambling,” using your hands as well as your feet.

Hot Springs Trail, Big Bend, Texas

I once wrote an article about thru-hikers, who hike for months at a time. Once they’ve hit their stride, so to speak, they hike around 20 miles a day, carrying all their stuff, then sleep in a tent on the ground, to get up in the morning and do it all over again.

Nah, I’m a proud “slack-packer.”

I feel I am roughing it if my hotel doesn’t have a spa. 😊

My husband and daughter at Hood River, Oregon

Nice day hiking, a shower, dinner at a restaurant serving locally sourced produce in some sort of cuisine before sleeping in a bed. Perfect.

That’s Not How Any of This Works

At least, it’s not supposed to. 

How can Russian intelligence use social media to interfere with American elections?

Because, apparently, a significant percentage of people lose sight of reality when they get online. They get ugly, nasty and scary.

It’s like there’s lead in our water supply.

Like the guy who threatened to use his Second Amendment right on me because I said I thought gun owners should have to carry liability insurance.

Hey, in case you are wondering why many of us are frightened of gun owners, there’s your Exhibit A.

Or the little old lady mentioned in this Washington Post article. At first, I felt bad for her. A smarty-pants blogger is making his living fooling simpletons on Facebook. The blogger, Christopher Blair, a liberal, makes up the most ridiculous “news items” he can and sees if he can fool (and humiliate) right-wing conservatives.

And he can: millions of them.

Like Shirley Chapian, a lonely 76-year-old living in a trailer in Pahrump, Nevada.

But look at what Shirley, looking like someone’s grandma, likes on Facebook:

“A Muslim woman with her burqa on fire: like. A policeman using a baton to beat a masked antifa protester: like. Hillary Clinton looking gaunt and pale: like. A military helicopter armed with machine guns and headed toward the caravan of immigrants: like.”

What the hell?

According to this superb and frightening 2017 Rolling Stone article, rather ordinary people are used by everyone from Russian intelligence to Trump campaign officials to Alex Jones to teenagers in Macedonia looking to make a buck, to spread bizarre and hate-filled conspiracy theories.

And this has already had, predictably, real and awful consequences.  After all, the New Zealand massacre, which killed 50 people, was planned by its perpetrator specifically to go viral.

What is wrong with us?