Mmmmmm…Summer

I’m pretty sure I won’t be saying this in the middle July when it’s 100 degrees and I’m all cranky and hot every time I go outside.  But it feels so good outside today.  It’s 75 degrees, slight breeze, and nothing but sunny blue sky overhead.  There must be a million birds chirping and squawking in the surrounding trees.  The quail are trying to sneak into my yard to look for food, but I’m watering the trees today, so I keep walking in and out of the house and disturbing them. 

 

 

 

The kids can’t wait until it’s hot enough to swim in the river, but I think it’s going to be at least a month before we can do that.  The reservoir has been drawn down to historic levels because of the huge amounts of snow we got over the winter… and this weekend the flooding is going to start with the jump in temperatures.  Instead, they’ll get to help me mow the lawn on weekends because the grass is growing like crazy now. 

 

 

And with the warm evenings, I can sit outside in my chair under the apricot tree and read.  Well, that poor tree still hasn’t put out much for leaves, but still…I can sit next to it and read while the dogs snooze on either side of me. 

The Mr. is still looking for a new job.  Things here are going downhill fast.  It’s really too bad, because it’s a nice place; minus all the morons and assholes.  This weekend, I think I’m going to pick up a bunch of boxes and start packing up all the stuff in the basement.  We hardly use the basement, so I may as well use it to store boxes.  This certainly isn’t how I imagined it would turn out up here - the school board being dismantled and run by one person with an agenda and a whole lotta grudges- nor did I imagine that the Mr.’s boss would turn out to be such an ineffective, spineless idiot.  I use worse words in private…but I’ll spare you that. 

 

 

In another forum I belong to, someone started a thread about how, lately, it seemed like so many people lacked integrity.  I can relate to that.  It does seem like more and more people are out to just take care of themselves with little regard for anyone else.  And yet, I just read an article that talked about how we are living in one of the most peaceful times in recent history when it comes to war.  While our media is saturated with stories and pictures of war and ethnic cleansing, not to mention recent natural disasters, we are actually living in a relatively peaceful and prosperous world.  So why doesn’t it feel that way?  It feels like we need to be afraid and prepared for…well, I don’t know what for…recession?  war?  terrorists parachuting into the country?  illegal aliens?  I really don’t know. 

I think we are living in a time of great change. 

Free Association - Week 276

I say…and you think…

As always, from LunaNina

 

Track : Suit

Snake : Pet

Assignment : School days

Blockbuster : Movie theater

Bombastic : Hot air

Adventure : Dreams

First Time : Fun

Aged : Parents

Grip : Suitcase

Shortcut : Hurry up

Just Clearing My Mind

I think there’s something desperately wrong with some of the schools around here.  In my region of Eastern Washington, 7 school principals have been dismissed or “reassigned” this year.  It boiled down to someone on the school board not liking the principal.  It wasn’t about bad job reviews, incompetence, illegal activity, or just doing a poor job…it was about personal feelings.  And we are set to be number 8.  Today, the Mr. took our oldest boy to watch the high school regional golf tournament so he could get out of his building for the day because the school board is conducting interviews for his job. During the day.  And giving tours of the school.  During the day.  The school board chairman has done everything but pee on the carpet in the Mr.’s office to assert her dominance over him.  It’s a sad thing to see.  She is universally hated and reviled, but no one will stand up to her because as soon as someone disagrees with any of her policies, she attacks them by calling them racist and anti-Native.  No one wants their name dragged around town like that, so they just look the other way.  And it’s only started with the Mr.’s job.  She stated publicly last fall that she would remove any and all white people working for the school and replace them with Natives.  Let’s be clear:  50% of the students at this school are non-Native.  There is a Native school - owned and run by Native Americans - on the Reservation.  And for 2 years our school district has tried and tried to get Native language speakers to teach classes here, along with culture classes, cooking classes, history classes, or any other class they can come up with.  No one would do it because they didn’t want to go against this small group of people who want to kick out any and all white people and take over the school as their own.  Unfortunately, this policy also includes not requiring Native students to pass state mandated tests to graduate and giving them a diploma from the tribe instead, not encouraging them to take advanced placement classes, apply to colleges and universities, and to just generally not encourage them to think about doing anything outside of living on the Reservation. 

 

Excuse me, but I don’t think we come from different planets.  I don’t think Native and white education are mutually exclusive.  For the past 2 mornings, I’ve been listening to a special on NPR about Native education and boarding schools.  The Federal Government is choking off their funding, while at the same time some Reservation leaders are calling for them to be closed down so they can educate all their kids at home.  But when you listen to the reports on NPR, you might realize what I’ve realized:  There is a huge tug-of-war going on between those Natives who do not want their children to be part of the outside world, and those who want their children to have a better life even if it means leaving the Reservation.  When the lady in the 2^nd interview says that she has never been among people with such a high rate of alcoholism and suicide, she could have been talking about where I live.  My experience with this Reservation system is one of dysfunction, so warped and broken, that the only hope most of these kids have is to get out and experience the rest of the world for a little while; if only to put their own lives in perspective.  A solid education, and a college education, would pave the way for the Native kids of today to be productive education, economic, and cultural leaders on their Reservations tomorrow. 

 

But there is a growing movement (at least out here in the West)  that does not want to let them go, or to let them learn anything that they don’t need to live on the Reservation right now.  This is a direct result of our misguided policies to eradicate Native culture through boarding schools, where kids were not allowed to speak their native language or practice their culture in any way.  Now their parents are saying we won’t let you go into the white world, we are going to keep you here with us.  My sympathies lie on both sides:  Reviving their cultures and languages is a wonderful and necessary thing.  Being an educated and well-rounded human being who can participate in the greater society is necessary to bring prosperity to their homelands.  Why are these two things being treated as mutually exclusive?

 

And the Mr. has lost his job because he asked that question and dared them to answer it.  Their answer is to fire him and install administrators and teachers who tow the line of the “Us v. Them” mentality. 

 

 To listen to the NPR special on Native Americans, CLICK HERE.  And tell me what you think.  Nicely, of course.

The Anti-Mother’s Day Mother’s Day…sort of

I pretty much boycotted Mother’s Day.  I have a lot of angst about Mother’s Day…and it simmers on many levels.  I told my boys and the Mr. to do what they wanted for Mother’s Day, but don’t waste money on flowers or candy or any dumb crap that you think you’re supposed to buy because it’s been advertised on tv for the last month.  My bottom line is this:  If you only really appreciate me on one day each year, then forget it.  Instead, I told them to decide what they wanted to do.  The Mr. brought home Mexican food from our favorite restaurant so I wouldn’t have to cook.  He got an A+!  The boys wanted to give me a card, so they gave me a nice card.  And then they helped me do some yard work, after they did their homework without me having to sit on them to get it finished.  Boys got an A+!  Now that was a treat.  The Mr. called his Mom and his sister, which they appreciated far more than a special delivery from the florist. 

Don’t get me wrong, women in general - and Mom’s in particular -  aren’t appreciated enough in this world.  We make less money, suffer from discrimination, and just generally get the short end of the stick if we aren’t careful.  But one day out of a whole year?!  Well, whatever.  What really makes me cranky is the emphasis on buying things to show your love for the Mom in your life.  Having a kid who willingly mowed the back yard and picked up dog poop made me happier than a dozen roses ever could. 

And then there’s my own Mom, who doesn’t speak to me or send me Mother’s Day cards anymore.  That was the first thing to stop when she stopped speaking to me.  No Mother’s Day cards, no phone calls, and certainly no flowers, as if to make the point that she didn’t think I was a good Mom because I moved away from her.  Actually, she reinforced the fact that I need to work even harder to understand what’s going on with her, and what’s going on with me, so I don’t repeat the same patterns with my own kids.  It’s a gift from Mom that keeps on giving.  No postage or long distance charges required.

 

And how about a flower from my yard…

 

The Irony Is Not Lost On Me

 

 

My power went out today.  How ironic considering I live next to one of the largest hydroelectric dams in the world.  Anyway, I had to go shopping for jeans today because my youngest kid informed me last night that he needed black jeans for the parade on Saturday.  He’s in band, and their uniform is black jeans and white tshirts…which I thought I had covered, until my kid decided to grow about a foot over the last 6 weeks.  His old black jeans didn’t fit.  At all.  He couldn’t button them and the cuffs didn’t even reach his ankles.  So I needed to buy him some new black jeans today.   

 

To do any simple clothes shopping, I have to drive an hour to the next town to shop at Walmart.  I hate Walmart, but sometimes it’s my only option, so I made the best of it.  I loaded up the car cd player with my favorite music, packed a snack, some water, and my camera. 

 

 

Beautiful, sunny day with just a few puffy clouds in the sky.

 

 

 

      Mom was making sure I didn’t leap over the fence to steal her baby!

 

 

Upon entering the store, I realized pretty quickly that they are cutting prices by cutting the quality of their merchandise.  No more brand name clothes.  No Levi’s.  No Wranglers.  Just shit I’d never heard of, made from material that will probably shred the first time I wash it, and I swear to dog blind child prison labor in China stitched it all together.  I haven’t been in Wallyworld since last fall, and I actually stopped one of the clerks (who had the poor girl’s hair-do:  Hair pulled back in a RUBBERband.  Like, RUBBER, not a fancy $1.99 scrunchi or anything) and asked her if they were in the middle of changing out their merchandise because there was hardly anything on the shelves.  I didn’t say CRAP on the shelves because I wanted her to help me and not spit on me.  Oh, no, this is what we have, she said.  Wow.  I guess Wal-fucking-mart is really sinking low to keep prices even fucking lower!  But I needed black jeans. Any black jeans.  So I swallowed my pride and dug around in the boys section until I found a pair of dark-enough-to-be-black jeans in the right size.  If you hold them up to the light, you can read a newspaper through them, too. 

 

Since I was already in the Devil’s Lair, I pushed my cart around the store to check things out.  There were dvd’s on sale - 3 for $10 - and I snagged The Hunt for Red October (special edition), The Patriot, and Traffic.  The Mr. likes to have something to watch on the nights he can’t sleep.  Underwear was on sale, but I didn’t recognize the brand name, or maybe it was spelled phonetically in Chinese, so I didn’t buy it.  I already have holey underwear; I don’t need to buy more that will shred as I walk the dogs at the lake.  Have you noticed how much of the merchandise is made in China now?  Like, ALL of it?!  Old news, I know, but at least we could demand higher quality merchandise…oh, wait.  I was in Walmart.  Haha.  Forget it.  I’ll order my new undies online from Penney’s.  They’ll still be from China, but at least they’ll last through a few dozen walks. 

 

 

But I did have a nice drive.  Lots of loud music, some interesting things on the road - like beavers, dead skunks, a deer, marmots - and herons out in the swampy parts of the lakes.   And when I got home, I got to listen to my neighbors fight.  Since the power was still out, I had my windows open, and I didn’t have my radio on to drown the bastards out like I usually do.

 

Man (outside doing yard work):  Hey, get me some water! (to the woman in the house)

 

Woman (screeches through open window): What?!

 

Man:  Some WATER!  Jesus!  Get a fucking hearing aid!

 

Woman:  What?

 

Man:  WATER dammit!  Get.  Me.  Some.  Water!

 

Woman:  What?

 

Man:  Throws tools on the ground.  Stomps into house.  Cursing under his breath sounds something like…JesuschristyouredeafwhyinthehelldoIevenbother…

 

I love my neighbors.

 

 

 

 

 

Currently Thinking…

It looks like my apple trees have given up on trying to bloom

It’s going to rain this afternoon

We still haven’t found a new job

The Mr.’s boss is suffering from Stockholm Syndrome

I can’t lie…you are on my mind more than ever lately

I don’t want to learn to thrive on chaos and uncertainty

Emma is still under Tick Watch ‘08

I want my own studio

The dog next door is really annoying with me his barking

Money money money…why is everything about money?

Sooner or later it will all work out…you know…Every Little Thing Is Gonna Be All Right

3 Days Grace has my full and undivided attention

Almost finished with Windblown World…and I miss it already

Mother’s Day is full of angst

“We are the ones we get knocked down we get back up and stand above the crowd…”

Free Association - Week 275

I say…and you think…

From LunaNina

State:  Home

Lively:  Perky

Valet:  Wealth

Traction:  Mountain pass

Official:  Signed

Red Hot:  Candy

Powder:  Drugs

Replies:  Email

Flagrant:  Flout

Tweet:  Goldfinches

 

Oh Please

I have neighbors who think it’s a good idea to tear down their old, wooden fence.  Part of the fence runs along the west side of my backyard, providing me with a nice 6 ft. privacy screen next to my 4 ft. chain link fence.  Part of their fence blew over in a winter storm 2 years ago…and it’s still piled up in the alley.  So now, their kids have been given the job of taking down the rest of the fence so they can build a new fence.  The kids are kicking it down.  KICKING IT DOWN.  Most of the fence was put together with screws, so they really have to kick at it to loosen up the boards.  There are screws and shattered pieces of wood flying everywhere….including into my yard.  I’m not pleased.  But I have to say this:  They are very quiet and you’d never know 6 kids (I think it’s 6. I’m not sure which kids are theirs and which are foster? relatives? found on the side of the road?)  were living next door to us.  They are really quiet, keep things picked up, and they don’t come into the yard unless they ask my permission.  My gripe is that I really like being in my backyard and feeling like I have at least some privacy.  I don’t think they are ever going to replace the fence.  They haven’t painted their house - which is almost paint free - or fixed the shingles on their roof - which are curling up and flap around in the wind - or even re-screened their window screens so they can hang them back up in the windows. 

But in the grand scheme of things, it’s really not much to crank about.  The Mr. and I just got done fertilizing our lawn.  I reset the sprinkler system to come on every morning now, so we’re set.  I hope I get to put a For Sale sign in the front yard next week.  By Tuesday, we should know whether or not he got the new job on the coast.  I hate waiting for news like this…I’m sure he hates it even more.  But as soon as we get the word, I’m going to troll all the businesses in town for boxes and start packing our crap as fast as I can.  I’ve been in this house for almost 2 years now, and I hate to leave it, but I really don’t want to stay.  I haven’t hung any pictures on the walls or even repainted any of the rooms.  It just doesn’t feel like mine.  I don’t care if we end up in trailer, I just want to get out of here and out from under this cloud.  Most people have been really nice, but I can’t count on any of them.  They just shake their heads and say “that’s just the way it is around here.”  What does that mean?  Some people are assholes but we don’t care?  It might be wrong but you’re not worth fighting for?  If it doesn’t have anything to do with my paycheck I really don’t care?  Well, they can just stew in all this dysfunction.  We’re not staying. 

I think, tomorrow, I’m going to spend the morning taking pictures.  And now that Emma is tick free, she’ll even get to come along and sit in the front of the truck with me.  Is it sad that my best friend is a dog?!

 

I’m getting tired of you leaving me at home.  And what does it say about me that my best friend is a human?!  Oh, wait, I’m a dog…

One Wish

                 

Our Secret Garden

 

*****

Baby, take me fishing where it’s quiet except for the sounds of birds in the trees and water whispering its secrets against the shore.  We can sleep in the sun, wake up once in a while to check our lines, and eat lunch without saying a word because there’s nothing left to say.  Tomorrow will be a new sunrise and a new job and a new place that will put this old place to shame.  At least that’s what I hope.  I’m addicted to hope and new places. 

Some people are just made to wish they were other than what they are, only so they may wish and wish and wish.  This is my star.  (Jack Kerouac - Windblown Worlds)

Tick In A Bottle

Yesterday started out with a horrifying discovery:  Emma had a H U G E tick on her neck.  It’s all my fault.  I substituted cheap flea & tick drops for the more expensive drops because I’ve been cutting things out of our budget to save money.  The key to using less expensive medication is to use it more frequently…which means it’s not cheaper in the long run, but I just need to save money this summer.  Once we move, things will get better. 

 

 

Photo courtesy of tickinfo.com

 

But back to Emma.  She had a huge, gray protuberance in the fur on her neck.  I swear to God and Dog, I just about came unglued.  I hate icky, buggy, parasitic things like this.  And poor Emma!  She didn’t understand why we were telling her to get outside and slamming the door in her face.  Usually, she gets to lurk around the kitchen all morning, waiting for the kids to sneak her bits of their breakfast and for me to sneak her bits of old food out of the fridge.  But out she went, along with Tucker and their beds.  I stopped at the grocery store after I dropped the kids off at school and bought flea & tick drops for larger dogs (because I think the last time I used stuff for smaller dogs) and bought flea & tick spray to spot treat the hugely, freakishly enormous tick hanging on Emma. 

 

 

Don’t you love me anymore?  I promise, no more ticks!

 

The fun started when I walked into the back yard with the bottle of spray.  Of course the dogs were curious and all happy to see me and panting and bounding around and all let’s play mommy…until I snapped the cap off the spray and called Emma over, told her to sit, and sprayed a jet of pesticide on the blood engorged abdomen of her little friend.  It was the smell that gave it away…that sweet chemical smell they know only too well from their flea drops.  They hate, I mean H A T E, that smell.  I ordered Emma to lay down and roll over (which she did while shivering and tucking her tail so tight the tip of it was tickling the underside of her chin) so I could spray her arm pits and belly. 

 

 

You aren’t thinking about spraying liquid death on ME, are you?!  I don’t have ticks!

 

Tucker, meanwhile, was trying to find a way out of the yard.  Being blind and hysterical, she was unable to locate the gate, which was still open.  Instead, she kept running into the fence with her nose as she darted back and forth.  Emma flew into the dog house in the shed as soon as I let her up. Tucker heard her thumping around in there and tried to find the door…but I closed the shed door and caught her by the back leg.  Tucker let out a terrified yelp, bugged her eyes out even more, and paddled her three good legs in an effort to get away from me and the evil god damn spray!  I flipped her over, put one hand on her chest, told her to knock it off, and gave her tummy a few quick sprays, along with her armpits and chest.  When I let her go, she darted away from me and started running into the shed door, trying to find a way into the beloved dog house; where they feel safe from everything. 

 

And wouldn’t you know…that damn tick didn’t fall off until sometime during the night.  I had to let the dogs back into the kitchen last night to sleep.  They can’t be left outside because they bark at all the animals that come through town all night.  I’ve thought about locking them into the shed…but really I’d rather have them in the house.  This morning, I got up bright and early and discovered the tick on the floor by Emma’s bed.  I scooped it up into an empty water bottle so I could terrorize the kids with it.  Hehehe.  I’ve been told to just pull ticks off the dogs when I find them, but really I think that’s a mistake unless you really know what you’re doing and you have the proper tools.  My vet told me it’s likely that the head will snap off and then there’s the risk of infection.  It’s better to spray them and let them fall off when they die, unless I wanted to pay him to remove it. I had already sprayed it, so really there was no point in taking Emma to the vet.  He was not alarmed since there’s very little trouble with tick-borne diseases out here.  But OH MY GAWD just the thought of that thing sitting in the bottle on the kitchen counter is still making my skin crawl!  The kids refused to look at it and took their breakfast into the dining room this morning…Perhaps I can terrorize them into cleaning their rooms and mowing the lawn if I just shake the giant dead tick-in-a-bottle at them a few times!

 

And hell yes!  I will be more diligent in keeping the dogs treated for ticks!