madranchwife

Browsing the news Monday morning, I stumbled across a little blurb that mentioned “Weld County” and “secession” and “51st state” all in the same line.

As Weld County was where I spent my formative years, this piqued my curiousity just the slightest, ittiest, bittiest bit.

Secession?  The 51st state?  I definitely had to check this one out.

Luckily I was sitting down…and had already finished drinking my 1/2 caffe dark chocolate mocha with whip so there was no chance it would be spewed across the keys as I perused the article.

And lo and behold…the headline did not lie.  Seems the Weld County commissioners are tired of being “ignored” by the big city types in Denver and have decided that, along with three other rural Colorado counties, they should secede from Colorado and form their very own state…the 51st of the nation to be exact.

You seriously cannot make this stuff up.

They say they have a lot of support and are attempting, at this very moment, to get the issue on the ballot come fall.  I think the idea is to get it on the ballot and then let the people decide.  Or maybe it was to get it on the ballot to consider it as an option to then let the people decide.  I’m not exactly sure.  I was laughing too hard and couldn’t see through the tears as I was attempting to read the article.

The idiocy is staggering.  The ridiculousness astounding.  Sort of along the lines of a small child grabbing up his ball and stomping away because the other children aren’t playing fair.  “Well…I’m going home then.”  And in the end, the other children keep on playing together, smiling and having fun, sometimes getting into tussles but always finding a way to work it out.  The child who stomped away mad sits alone, pouting, throwing rocks, kicking the dirt and stewing in his anger about the unfairness of life and all those other bad kids and POOR OL’ ME.

Truly laughable Weld County.  Good luck with that whole 51st State thingy.  I’m thinking it just might not turn out to be all that you are wanting it to be.

We’re off to enjoy what’s left of the summer days…should I mention the changing colors already?  If I had a damn camera that worked, I’d post some pictures of the yellowing leaves on the rose bushes and the aspen trees.  Gasp.

Methinks it may be an early winter.  🙂

Well…it was a week and a half ago, but who the heck is getting technical on a peaceful Sunday morning.

Trying to talk the munchikin out of making breakfast over the campfire.  I just got the smoke out of my hair.  We didn’t have s’mores last night…instead ate a family dinner at the new patio table.  Which is much more comfortable than balancing a plate on your knees while in the campchair.  But the ambience was not the same…I will admit.

Anyway, she wants that super-duper campfire breakfast from her super-duper mommy-chef-extraordinaire.  And it’s pretty breezy out there…we haven’t had rain since Thursday afternoon (and that was only a little bit)…so technically we’re not really out of the woods yet.  Ha ha.  As if we’ll ever be “out of the woods.”  Get it?  “Out of the woods?”  We live in the woods.  Sometimes I crack myself up.  What a hoot.

I digress.

I’m trying to stall, because as much as I want to (knowing this may be the last morning) I’m also a bit wary of the breeziness out there.

We’ll see.

ANYWAY… back to the irritation in my brain.  This has been bothering me since the last day I went to work.  It was a Thursday.  I was just picking up a random day.  Which is both good and bad.  It makes for a VERY long day (over to Cheyenne and back plus the 10 or so hours in between).  But then I don’t have to pack a bag and stay away for a night or two.  Pros and cons baby, pros and cons.

But that’s life.

So…I stopped at the Starbucks on the way to the hospital.  It’s just a couple of blocks away…oh so convenient for my expensive habit.  When I walked in, standing at the counter, just finishing paying for his expensive habit, was one of the regulars.  Now…I’ve seen this man for many, many months now.  He’s always there (whenever I am…which is really only about 5 or 6 days a month, usually the weekends, but still…if I see him whenever I’m there, I’m assuming he’s mostly there).  So…I’ve been seeing this dude for a long time…months…maybe even the last year?  I’m not good with time…it goes wayyyyyyy too fast for me to mark.  I usually see him sitting outside, talking to anyone who is walking in (sort of the unofficial, official Starbucks greeter).  Sometimes…he’s just talking to himself.  Do you see where I’m headed with this?  I have to tell you that the whole “talking to himself thingy along with everyone else who walks in the door” doesn’t really inspire a lot of confidence in his mental state.

Now…I realize I could be accused of “mentally profiling” here, but seriously…the story to follow may help you to understand how I’ve come to my conclusions.

So, this dude is ALWAYS dressed the same.  And remember, I see him 5 to 6 days a month, random days, some weekends, some weekdays, some holidays.  He wears a black, long sleeve, pearl button closure Wrangler (I’m assuming) cowboy shirt, black Wrangler jeans, a black cowboy hat and black cowboy boots.  (I don’t know the brand of the boots.  That’s like when the husband asks me the make/model of a truck that’s come driving up the road–trespassing mind you–and I say to him, incredulously, “you want me to tell you who made the damn truck???”  I can pick out that it’s a truck and it may be white or black or blue or red…but that’s about it.  A truck is a truck.  Cowboy boots are cowboy boots.)

I digress again.

The dude in black.  I suppose he may be going for the Johnny Cash reincarnation thing.  I’m not sure.  Regardless, he must own A LOT of black wardrobe pieces.

OK.  The “funny thing that happened on the way to work…”

About a month or so ago (again, I’m not good with time…could be a bit longer)…the dude added to his outfit.  I noticed one morning, while trying to avoid direct eye contact because I just haven’t wanted to engage with this one, that he was wearing some sort of black vest thingy.  Without trying to stare, I got the distinct impression it was a bullet proof vest.  And then, at his waist, I noticed a gun.  And on that vest were various thingamabogs and thingamajigs sticking out here and there.  I didn’t stop to ask.  I just kept going.

That first day (a while ago) I did ask myself “Why?”  “Why on earth is that man wearing a bulletproof vest?  And what are all those thingamajigs?  And was that really a gun at his waist?  Did I see a gold star on his chest?  Is he a Texas Ranger?  What century is this again?  Maybe I need to get some more sleep.”  And I went on my merry way.

The next day I saw him again.  Wearing all the same accoutrements.  Again, I avoided eye contact, walked briskly into my nirvana, paid for my salvation, and sashayed quickly to my car.  This time the questions in my mind:  “Nope, no star on his chest.  Not a Texas Ranger.  I checked the calendar yesterday…it’s 2013.  I did sleep last night.  Definitely a bulletproof vest.  But aren’t those supposed to go under the shirt–not over it? Hmmm…things that make you go hmmmm….”

Over the next several weeks, same thing.  Same dude, same outfit, same extra accessories.

So last week, he was at the counter paying (I must have been early…ha!).  I quietly slipped into line.  The dude in black walked over to the cream/sugar counter.  A man walked up behind me.  Then a few seconds later, another man joined us.  This one said, not too loudly, but so that we (the man behind me and myself) could both hear him…”not a sight I want to see when I come into a Starbucks.  That guy over there has enough ammo to blow us all away.  I asked  him why and he told me to “shut up you Democrat!!”

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“Shut up you Democrat?????”

Really?  Really.

So here we have a person of questionable mental status (as evidenced by his talking to himself, becoming the “official” Starbucks greeter…) now decked out in a bulletproof vest, sporting enough ammunition to do some serious bodily harm, along with a gun (or guns), yelling at someone to shut up when asked why he has all that stuff on his person.

Scared yet?

I am.  Not the kind of person I want to see every morning I walk into my own personal version of heaven.  Doesn’t really instill in me a sense of peace and tranquility.  Doesn’t really make me feel very comfortable.

And then I get peeved when I think that my world is threatened by this bloomin’, blasted idjit.  This Starbucks is two blocks from the hospital, and incidentally…one block from the Capitol Building in Cheyenne…and is incredibly convenient.  It’s the prize after making it safely to Cheyenne at 5:00 in the morning.  It’s the sword with which I gird myself to face the long day of dealing with cancer and sickness and depression and old age.

Best not to get me started on the whole “gun rights” bulls**t.  This is ridiculous.  And dangerous.  And this person is EXACTLY the kind of person who should NOT, under any circumstances, have access to ANY kind of firearm.

Guns have a place.  I understand that.  But NOT on a mentally unstable person who is going to jump down someone’s throat when asked a simple question in a very public place.

Now where am I going to encounter nirvana?

Oh the things I must ponder…..

Yep…we’ve been roughing it the last few days.  The sun finally came back Wednesday with just the barest of rain showers on Thursday afternoon, so the munchikin and I have been on a camping trip extraordinaire!

And it’s quite a conundrum to me actually.  Not sure how to feel about this.  It certainly does smack of redneckishness…I mean really, camping in your backyard???  On the other side of the ginormous cedar playset with the bright blue canopy and slide?  Within the fence meant to keep the wild creatures in…I mean out.  Sorry, visions of the wild one I live with momentarily distracted me.  Bears out, children in.  Simple.  Oh yes, and roaming dogs too.  Melancholy point there, but it must be made.

So…part of the backwoods camping purist in me is really struggling with hot water to wash dishes after every meal, a flushing toilet, my triple 1/2 caffe dark chocolate mocha with whip WHENEVER my little heart desires and not the lame attempt made over the fire in the little aluminum camping coffee pot.  And then of course there’s the well-stocked refrigerator, meaning no issues with melting bags of ice or 4 inches of water in the bottom of the cooler, soaking the egg carton and any other wayward food item that wasn’t packed well to begin with.

Definitely some plusses to the whole “backyard” thingy.

And hard to come up with negatives.  Except that, well, it is the backyard.  I mean really.  Really.

Course, the first summer we were here, 2010, we loaded everything up and headed out to find a perfect camping spot.  We eventually did…nestled among some aspen trees, off of the road a ways (the husband doesn’t care for campgrounds, so we are usually far from such a place)…made a fire ring, had some yummy dinner and then breakfast the next morning.  Then we loaded up and headed home.  We turned off the highway and started up our road.  Just at the point where the hill crests and you look down on the house, we both looked at each other and started laughing.  Because at that point it was a tiny bit comical.  We’d made this big production about “going camping.”  We’d loaded up and drove off into the forest.  And then we came home…to the forest.  To our home nestled in the aspen groves…with the National Forest out the backdoor.

Needless to say, we’ve not done that again.  Well, the diva and I went to Rocky Mountain National Park two summers ago and camped for a night.  That was fun.  But not last year…too dry.  We didn’t even camp in the backyard.  Cause how much fun is camping if you can’t have a fire and s’mores??? I mean really.  Really.

So…here we are again.  Camping in the back yard.  I am so conflicted.  I’m looking out the window right now at the tent set up next to the fire ring with our camp chairs and the stack of firewood.  Course, the playset is in the way of this idyllic picture and the fence is a dead giveaway.  But I digress….

The darling daughter just thinks it’s the most awesome thing to have breakfast over the campfire.  And every other meal too.  So I’ve been trying to get creative.  However, last night’s dinner of scallops and stir-fry veggies fell short I must say.  In my defense, I think the scallops were pretty poor quality…so there.  But the pancakes and eggs/hash browns were a big hit.  Yeah me.

Some photographic evidence of our adventure:

Not sure if we’ll be out there again tonight or not.  I expect yes, though there are some gray clouds building to the west.  Guess we’ll see!

Cheers!

“Just let it go.”

Don’t your toes just curl up and your innards shrink when some well-meaning person utters the above phrase to you?

Sometimes I’ll admit that’s my first reaction.  I don’t like it when someone blithely quips…”oh, just let it go.”  Like it’s easy to relinquish control over life’s circumstances.  Like it’s second nature for me to move along, secure in the knowledge that this world doesn’t need me manning the con…so to speak.

I’m a control freak.  No question about it.  I like to know why something is happening so I can figure out the best way to control the situation.  To effect the proper (according to me) outcome. I have no problem admitting this shortcoming of mine.

The problem is in changing this pattern of behavior.

And as I am quickly looking at the second half of my fortieth decade on this earth, I’m thinking that an about-face in my makeup is not in the cards.

So…I’ll continue on in my ways.  Not trying to teach myself any new tricks.  I know the penalty of this is a constant feeling of unease.  A feeling that all is not right with the world.

Take for example:

1.  Last Wednesday I purchased 50 lbs of white sugar to feed the humongous amount of hummingbirds that were inundating the feeders.  I’m not kidding–at least 10 to 15 on the clothesline at any given time and each feeder with at least 18 to 20 vying to get a drink.  I was going through approximately 6 cups of sugar a day.   And so…because we live where we live…and neither visiting the neighbor to borrow a cup of sugar or running to the store to pick up a lb of sugar are possibilities…I decided I’d be smart and stock up.

HA!  Thursday, a male rufous decided to lay claim to one of the larger feeders in the back that had previously had the 18 to 20 buzzing around it at any given time.  Not a one was allowed to feed…that persistent little bugger kept them ALL away.  I fretted about this all night (of course…couldn’t let it go…) and Friday decided to move the feeder to a new location.  In the meantime, a female rufous has now started defending the two feeders in the front.  I haven’t refilled those in 24 hours…I was refilling them at least three times a day.  I don’t know where to move the ones in front…still ruminating on that one.

2.  (Maybe this should have topped the list.)  My Grams is sick.  And now in a skilled nursing facility for therapy.  And most likely won’t return to her home in Denver.  And the future is uncertain.  And complicated.  And not the same as it’s always been.  And that causes me some angst.  She is 95 1/2 years old.  That’s a lot of years.  And life keeps marching on.  And we were simply not ‘built to last’ as the truck commercial boasts.  The passage of time is painful, isn’t it?  The last few days have had images floating through my brain, both awake and asleep, of Grams in earlier times.  On the PBS station in Denver for her reupholstering show, at her knitting shop, disciplining us kids in JCPenney’s in the Greeley Mall when she was taking care of us while mom recovered from pneumonia.  (Who knew grandmothers could be so tough?)  Always kissing us hello and goodbye.  In later years…her colorful flowered cane.  Her bowls of candy all around.  In earlier years…the Easter money hunts at the house on Albion Street, the lamb cake with the icky coconut frosting.  (That was always such a conundrum for me…excited to see it, and always hoping for a different result when I bit into it…see..an eternal optimist from the start.)

Anyway…the passage of time is something I cannot control.  Not in the slightest.  And learning to let go of the angst at the way life moves along, at such a fast clip it seems, is painful at best.  I also cannot control the course of things at the moment.  I am not the doctor.  I am not her therapist.  I cannot have her here with me, doing all those things for her that need to be done.  I cannot tell those in charge of her care what and how they should be doing it.  I cannot make the decision about her future.  I can only sit in the wings and practice patience and letting go and trusting that all will be well.  And as it should be.  When it needs to be.

3.  I have to let go of the goddamned rodents destroying, DESTROYING, my garden and my front yard.  I am not kidding.  DESTROYING.  The digital camera broke (when I was trying to snap pictures of the latest damage dealt to the flowers I’d planted–from the bear trampling them to the vole digging them up from beneath)–I dropped it.  Yup.  Goes to show me maybe to just leave things well enough alone.  Right?  No need to document the carnage.  Staying in the anger doesn’t serve any purpose.  Need to move on.  Need to let this go.  Need to let this go.  Need to let this go.

My new mantra.

We’ll see how long I can keep those words on the loop in my brain.  I am easily distracted.

4.  Fall is coming.  Yup.  Not kidding.  Change is in the air.  It’s cool today.  I don’t even have the windows open yet.  Very breezy.  The sun has changed its position in the sky.  Trust me when I say fall is coming here.  Though it happens every year.  The day after the fourth of July, the winds change.  They just do.  And no matter how much I try to avoid it, no matter how much I try to pretend that it’s still summer here,   the change is out there, lurking at the edges.  Just waiting to pounce.

Don’t get me wrong.  We still have sun.  For all intents and purposes, it’s still summer.  According to the calendar.  But I know from experience that summer is fleeting here.  Fleeting.  Faster than fleeting.  And I tried hard not to blink.  We did soccer camps and swimming and art camps and whatnot.  And now we’re looking at the end of all of that.  It causes melancholia in me.  I rail against it as long as I can.  Refusing to give in.  Refusing to acknowledge it.  I know with every fiber of my being I need to let go my need to control the passage of time.  I know this.

Doing so however is another story.

And the next person to tell me to just “let it go” just might get punched in the face.

🙂

Have a lovely day.

Yup.

I shot a bear.

Not sure if I hit him or not…but that’s not really the important part of the story.  You know what I mean?

I mean…for anyone that knows me…truly knows me that is…just the fact that I’m telling you I shot a bear should have you exclaiming in shouty capitals “LORD LOVE A DUCK…WHAT IN THE SAM HELL IS GOING ON?????”

And the worst part is that I don’t have photographic proof…just the discarded shotgun shell…and that could probably be faked in some way or other.

But to be honest with you…I simply could not figure out how to shoot a picture and shoot a gun at the same time.  That damn thing is heavy!  (The shotgun…not the camera.)  Not that I didn’t try…well, not to actually do it at the same time.  Rather to get a picture of the pesky ursus species IN MY FLOWER GARDEN  (@#^&%&^!#476) first…then shoot second.

To be honest, I was a bit flustered and was trying to grab the camera, dial the phone (because I STILL can not keep from calling the male of the household…even though he was a good 30 minutes away, so what in the blazes was he going to do except to yell at me to go get the gun and shoot the bear…which he did…yell at me that is), alert the 6 year old diva I live with that a bear was on the premises and to stay in her room, and restrain the 14 year old Labrador from jumping through the screen door all at the same time.  Which…I managed to do all of…but then realized that what was most important was to let the black furry thing that was trampling what was left of my flowers know that he was most unwelcome here.  And snapping a few pictures and asking him to say cheese was probably going to be considered quite hospitable.  Not inhospitable.  Which was what I was supposed to be.

So then I ditched the camera, ran for the gun (which is immensely long and heavy…think Daniel Day Lewis in Last of the Mohicans…remember that dude with the long rifle?), tried and succeeded at getting out the front door without the Labrador busting out or shooting either one of us in the foot…took aim and fired.

Now…to be honest…I don’t know if I hit him or not.  But from the way he took off up the hill and then out of sight, I’m thinking that perhaps I’m a pretty good shot.  Compared to the way he sort of ambled up the hill the first time he was here, all insouciant and everything, I’m thinking that perhaps he got the message.

And…in case any of you reading this are thinking that I’m being all illegal and such…shooting at a bear without a hunting license, etc, etc, etc,…or in case any of you think I’ve gone off the deep end and become a card-carrying member of the good ol’ N. R. of A. and turned to the Dark Side of the Force and forsaken my environmentalist, save-the-earth-and-all-its-creatures type ways…don’t you worry a bit.   I was shooting shells full of rubber buckshot.  That are not supposed to penetrate the hide…just cause some bruising of the buttocks (that was where I was aiming anyway).  The idea is to cause a bit of pain associated with a crazy woman running out of the house yelling about getting out of her damned flower garden and brandishing a very big gun.  So that this place becomes less and less enticing…despite the lovely smells wafting from the windows.  (Today those were fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies and a lovely chicken stir fry.)

I do so hope you are getting a good visual of all of this.

Then………as if to add insult to injury…….while I was standing on the porch, trying to wrestle the ridiculously large firearm into a safe position, a rodent popped up and started nibbling on the last new flowering plant to be left standing.  $%*$#&)%*  Can you believe the nerve???????????  It was all I could do not to aim that shotgun and pull the trigger.   I simply could not stomach the idea of the splatter it would make in what’s left of the flower garden…so instead I stomped my foot and yelled rather loudly at the little S-H-I-T.  He just blinked a few times and then slowly backed down into his hole.  Ever seen the movie Ratatouille?  The old lady in the beginning trying to shoot the rats in her attic?  Bug-eyed (her glasses) and aiming that gun at anything she thought was moving?  Hmm-mmm….I was very, VERY close to that this afternoon.

I do have pictures of the flower garden…taken on Friday afternoon.  Sort of a time lapse deal.  About 2 hours apart…showing the disappearance of the flowers one at a time.  I don’t have any since then (I worked this weekend)…but suffice it to say…it’s even worse.  (However, having some problems getting the photos onto the computer, so just trust me when I say…it’s worse.  Much worse.)

But…back to the bear.

I was a mite bit conflicted I will tell you that.  I really just wanted to snap a few pictures…cause the damn bear was in my flower garden…playing with the taxidermically-enhanced pheasant.  And I was wondering what he had to say about the plastic owl with the funky eyes…and he was really sort of cute in a black bear-y sort of way.  If you know what I mean.  Not so much cuddly like a teddy bear…but cute in a lumbering, darkish sort of way.  So it really was sort of difficult to realize I had to scare him off.

But then…I got all Annie Oakley-ish…and actually set off after him…hoping I could take another shot.

???!?!?!?  Good grief Charlie Brown.  What is happening to me?  I truly am going mad…crazy, insane, off-my rocker, certifiably nutso.

I think it started with the gophers.  They better hope I don’t cross over to the Dark Side.  Cause if so…the Emperor and his evil Empire’s got nuthin’ on me.

insanity:  (noun?)  the act of repeating the same behavior expecting different results

So…if one were to subscribe to the above “definition” of insanity, then yes, technically, I could be considered 1) insane, 2) acting insanely, 3) off my rocker or 4) just really not playing with a full deck.

OR…perhaps I am simply an eternal optimist.  And in reality, believe, that maybe, just maybe, this time will work out perfectly fine.  Everything will be peachy-keen.  Hunky-dory.  All rainbows and pots of gold.   (Enter whatever euphemism you think would fit.)

I like to think I’m the latter…an eternal optimist.  Just like the Eternal Flame of JFK’s…never to be extinguished, always lit.  I’m never to be beaten down…always looking up…trusting that all will be well and right with the world.

Ha!  I am reminded of something that came across the computer screen a few days ago about the Eternal Flame going out.  As in, not being eternal, but instead being finite.

So what does that say about my theory of eternal optimism?  Not looking good.

But wait, I’m going for it.  I choose the eternal flame of optimism…of Pollyannaism…of glass half fullness.  I refuse to be beaten down by a bunch of low-life, no-good, evil-doing, cheeky, little bastards.  (Sorry, forgot to post the R-rating for this one.)

What in the sam hello am I talking about?

I PLANTED MORE FLOWERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In the very same flower garden that was decimated, DECIMATED, last year by those bloody rodents.  (Sorry for the shouty capitals.)

We spent ALL blasted day out there…turning over the soil (thinking that perhaps, somewhere in there might be a root or seed from last year’s bountiful batch of beautiful blooms)…adding more topsoil…lovingly tending to the EXPENSIVE new buds.  

Holding my breath and saying a quick prayer to the flower gods…I came inside.  Not two blasted hours later, the first flowering plant disappeared.  Really.  It disappeared.  Well, maybe I should use a different word…it didn’t ALL disappear, there were tiny traces of the marigold flower petals left on top of the soil…but nothing to be seen of the leaves or stem.   And all because I trusted the universe and chose to be optimistic.

Stupid, stupid girl.

What to do…what to do.

Well…for starters…because we can’t just jump in the car and drive on over to the handy, dandy hardware store where we could pick up an ominous looking bird of prey statue, I did what I do best and came up with something just as good.  

The stuffed ring-neck pheasant in mid-flight that was left in the cabin by the previous inhabitants of this oh-so-glorious place!

 Maybe, just maybe, those cheeky bastards will be stopped in their tracks as they come to feast at Debby’s Floral Snack Bar.  Perhaps they’ll take one look at the large, multi-colored bird perched on the edge of the flower garden and decide that maybe they just shouldn’t gamble tonight.  

The darling daughter came up with a wonderful idea and then proceeded to diagram it so mommy could get it right.  She thinks we should string up various birds of prey (an owl, a hawk and a falcon I think it was) on a zipline sort of thingy…wherein they would “swoop” down from on high, with moving heads and blinking eyes, and basically scare the bejiminy out of the creatures that would dare to enter the flower garden.

Well…as that is going to take a bit of thought, we’re going to have to be content with the ring-necked pheasant looking all dastardly as he is poised there at the corner of the garden.   

And me…well…I am going to close my eyes tonight, with visions of flowers dancing in my head.  

And wake up with an air of optimism!

Doesn’t that look like a pretty flower garden?

If you look closely at the 4th picture (middle row, on right) you can see where the marigold used to live…

…and no pictures of the ring-necked pheasant perched on the edge of the porch, staring ominously down through its glass eyes at the verdant valley below…sorry, got a little carried away there…but it was dark by the time we came up with this wonderful idea.  I’ll post pictures later.

Do you think that with all of the energy/time/money/etc, etc, etc the Republicans have put into the supposed “scandals” about President Obama something productive might actually have happened in Washington, D. C.?

Just a question…

Inquiries into this, commissions into that, twisting themselves into quadruple-triple-double-axel-handspring-backflips off the high dive trying to get something to stick…trying to tarnish the President’s image…trying to…well, what exactly?

Why is it so God-Almighty-important to paint President Obama as this horrible thing mired in “scandal” after “scandal?”

I don’t get it.

I was just sitting here thinking how productive these people could be if they actually did their jobs (which is to represent the people that elected them in the first place) instead of running around like chickens with their heads cut off (can you just imagine Darrell Issa’s body without it’s head flapping his arms and running in circles…the head laying on the ground squawking “Benghazi…Benghazzzziiii……”…fade to black…).  And good grief, I  am in no way insinuating this should happen…my mind just got carried away for a moment.

I really truly find the Republicans’ attempts to pin something, anything, on President Obama somewhat amusing…ludicrous…infantile.  However, at some point the circus has to pack up the tents, load the animals on the train, give the mustached lady and the strong man a break…and go home!

Sheesh…enough already.  Can’t you guys just let it go?  Your guy (well, your last two guys) lost the election.  I know, I know.  To a…GASP…black man.  But, get over yourselves.  Grow up.  This is not junior high.  This is the real world.

Accept it.  Do your job…do right by the people who asked you to do your job.

And maybe take a humongous CHILL PILL while you’re at it.

Great…now I’ve infused my beautiful, peaceful Saturday morning with junk.

Garbage in, garbage out.  That’s what I get for reading the internet.

We’re off to Steamboat (our second favorite place to hang out…Jackson wins the number one spot..hands down!)…to play in the pool!  If I can talk the munchikin into it, we’ll also go for a run along the river.

Then, we’ve decided to buy some flowers to fill in the spot in front DECIMATED by those cheeky bastards last year.  (See photos below for before and after…you’ll have to be sitting down as the shock may cause a compensatory response altering the flow of blood to the brain…at least it does for me every time I see it.)

So…have a lovely, “scandal”-free day!!!

(Definitely depressing isn’t it?)  I’m not supposed to put up pictures of the cutie patootie above, so I’ll take this down after a while, but it’s the only one with the flowers I can find.

UPDATE:  I just removed the “before” pictures as the little munchikin was front and center.  Part of the agreement for me to keep “blogging” was no pictures of her.  So there you go.  Suffice it to say, the garden was spectacular last year…not so much this year.

1.  The Supreme Court sort of makes up for its blunder yesterday by voting that DOMA is unconstitutional.  Beautiful.   (Though..in reference to yesterday’s ruling attacking the Voting Rights Act, one might wonder if the Court is slightly schizophrenic.  However, to be honest, my little mind is not well-versed, or even versed at all, in the law.  And perhaps they had something more in mind than the shock of how it sounded yesterday.  Perhaps.   I’ll have to explore it further.)

FOR NOW…no more DOMA!!

And to be truthful…I don’t have a dog in this fight (what an abhorrent expression)…but as long as I can remember, I’ve sided with the underdog.  The one getting picked on.  The one we should all stand up for.  And discriminating against a whole bunch of people just cause they don’t hang out with the kind of people we think they should hang out with seems to me to be…well…just plain wrong.  Sort of intolerant.  Judgemental.  Unkind.   I digress.

Anyway:

2.  A new hero in Texas!!  The Honorable Wendy Davis talked for 12 1/2 hours yesterday…til almost midnight Texas time…to filibuster a bill that would drastically affect womens’ reproductive rights in the great ol’ state of Texas.

And after much chaos…and shenanigans by the Republicans  (because, yes she is a Democrat)..the bill was defeated!!!!!!!

GIRL POWER all the way!

3.  Supreme Court just came back with a decision on California’s Prop 8.  Not totally sure about what it all means, but I think it’s good news for supporters of marriage equality.  (Will have to read up on it.)

And..in news closer to home:

Beautiful day.   Lots of sun.  Breeze.  No recent bear damage.  Yes, the bear’s been back.  Ate the windows.

Really.

Ate the windows.

And the pretty pink petunias.  Now that made me mad.

Will post pics of the window.

And of our recent trip to Jackson…and our escapades there.

Stay tuned.

(Been busy trying to soak up the ultra SHORT summer here…we get just a few days of warm weather…so much to do..)

Some of the other visitors here during the last several weeks…

Western Tanager

American Goldfinch

Merlin (this one hit the window…and then had to take a few moments to collect herself…she finally flew off…I see her everyday swoop down from the pine trees and pick off one of the tiny Pine Siskins at the finch feeder…too bad for the Pine Siskin, good for her she can still hunt after the bell-ringing I’m sure the window gave her)

Tiger Salamander…caught sneaking across the back patio one morning and then meandering across the yard, finally diving down a hole next to the house (lovely…)

It’s been an interesting month, to say the least.