Karma.

As in “destiny or fate, following as effect from cause.”  (That’s an informal definition, not the traditional, more formal one of karma being what happens to one in subsequent lives as a result of actions taken in the present life.)

I went with the more informal definition as in this case, karma has caught up with Mr. Cliven Bundy…in this life!

Couldn’t have happened to a, ahem, nicer guy.

Arrested at the Portland International Airport, Mr. Cliven Bundy was on his way to join the protestors in Oregon.  To lend his support to his already arrested pair of offspring.  Now he can offer support on the best way to wear orange?

Pfft.

Finally, finally, he may be well on the way to being held accountable for his actions back in 2014 in which he made a big to-do about not paying his grazing fees.  Big kerfuffle.  Big ol’ mish-mosh.  Big ol’  pile of horse puckey if you ask me.

Complaining about the big, bad, mean ol’ gubmint who asks poor little ranchers (SNARK ALERT) to pay grazing fees.  Fees to graze cattle on land.   That’s to feed cattle folks.  Those same cattle are then sold.  For moolah.  So that supposed poor little rancher is not really so poor.  And makes a profit (or at least a living) from those cattle.

(The snark alert was for the “poor” ranchers.  I am married to a man who works his cute, little patootie off every damn day of every damn year on a ranch.  When it comes down to it, the bread and butter of our beef industry, the little guys who make it happen, work hard for not much.  BUT.  That doesn’t mean you don’t pay your bills.  Period.)

Pfffft.

The ridiculousness in Oregon has played out like a really bad reality show.  Like Survivor (sorry mom).  Only in this case, the contestants didn’t get to vote someone out of their little cabal.  The choice was made for them.  The tribe is down to four wacko-birds (H/T to the esteemed Sen. McCain for that lovely word) now.  Supposedly being aided (and abetted?????) by a Nevada legislator.  WTH??

Seriously.  This situation could not get any more ridiculous.  Now we’ve got an elected Nevada official inserting herself into the drama, flying up to Oregon STAT, to lend her hand(s).

What evs.

Arrest the bunch.  Toss ’em in the slammer.  They would be horrified to know that for the most part, they are a laughable bunch.  They give the ranching community a bad name.  The folks who spend their days working hard, doing their job, paying their fees, keeping their heads down and going on about their business.  But playing by the rules.

This is a democracy.  Not an anarchy.  We have rules and regulations and laws for a reason.  This is the way this country was set up.  The flip side, the one where there are no rules and the big, damn gubmint didn’t exist to bother you?  Yeah, I wouldn’t want to live in an America like that.  That’d be the Wild West and the OK Corral on steroids.  Could you even imagine?

I say kudos to the authorities who waited and planned and let stupid do what stupid does.

Now if the same theory could be applied to the current crop of Republican candidates for President.

I am out of coffee so I cannot even tiptoe into the farcical tragi-comedy the primary season has become.  I’ll have to save that for another day.

Especially because the skiing should be good today.  I’ve decided it’s best to take advantage of the snow while we have it.  School?  Who needs readin’, writin’ and ‘rithmetic when there’s skiin’ to be done????

(Snark alert.)

Vaya con dios mis amigos y amigas.

Firstly, a bit of disclosure here as for all intents and purposes the word on the street is that we live in a certain state.  Then if we start talking further with someone, we mention that we live at the “stateline,” between the two states.  Not really getting into specifics and leaving the details open to interpretation.  To be honest, we claim statehood on both sides of the line as it becomes necessary.  We usually fall on the northern side as, in our hearts, we believe it to be the cooler side.  That being said, I was quickly perusing the news this morning on my trusty Mac and came across a little gem, that, to be honest, I’d seen a couple of weeks ago, but decided to ignore.  Someone (who has the time to do things like this???) decided to figure out the top most “googled” subjects per state for 2015.  And the results are quite hilarious let me tell you.

(http://www.motherjones.com/mixed-media/2015/12/heres-what-each-state-googled-more-any-other-2015)

Here’s the rub.  The state to the south searched “is there water on Mars?”  A sane, logical, scientific, rational, mature, intelligent, mentally-challenging and stimulating question, to be sure.  The state to the north searched for “Blake Shelton & Gwen Stefani.”   ???!?!??

Mmmmfgghhpthhmmm….WHAT?

WHO?

WHY?

Not something cerebral like “how does Ebola virus emerge” or “how does a virus such as Ebola spillover into the human population” or “can life survive on the Red Planet” or “is this El Nino year going to impact the hay yield” or “what on earth are people thinking supporting a gasbag with constant bad hair days?”  (Sorry, couldn’t help myself and had to throw that last one in there.  Only South Carolina did that.)

Regardless, with everything going on in today’s world, this state is going to search the internet for news on celebrities?  Oy flipping vey.

Well, not to be outdone, Texas, great big ol’ Texas, searched “Miranda Lambert’s divorce.” Now that should say something about our southern compadres.

Anyway.  This time we’re claiming statehood to the south.  Good grief.

Second, I had seen a blurb about the following topic yesterday and thought it was a spoof.  As in, not real, fabricated, just for fun…to explain the current coterie of candidates for the highest office in the land (on the Republican side mind you) and quite possibly, the reason for the rabid support of the afore-mentioned coiffure-challenged gasbag.

But then this morning I read a short article published from http://www.newscientist.com regarding a virus carried by mosquitoes that has been slowly emerging.  By slow I mean it was first documented in 1947 in Uganda and has slowly been marching on in Africa and Asia until arriving in Brazil last May.

So what?  A new virus?  What’s the big deal?  Well, said virus, the Zika virus, has been shown to cause fetal brain damage.  As in causing babies to be born with smaller brains.  Not kidding here.  Go read the article.  In adults, it can cause an annoying skin rash.  It’s on the move, carried by mosquitoes, and is in South America now.  Never seen there before.  It’s also been documented in a few United States citizens who traveled south and brought it home.

Here’s my question?  Do you think that current coterie of candidates I mentioned above might have somehow been infected with a super-size dose of the Zika virus which would account for the obvious micro-sized brains they all seem to be carrying around?

I’m just sayin’.

Food for thought anyway.

I think that’s quite enough in the salutation department, eh?

Wow.  We’ve been here, there and everywhere.  And most importantly, not at my computer.  Life has gotten in the way of electronic communication.  And to be honest, that’s just ok with me.  Realizing that the spiffy Mac Book is not the heart of the Universe is fine and dandy.  And makes for a more peaceful me.

But, as per usual, lots of things swirling in the brain case and must be let out.

I missed posting about some important events.  Namely the 9th birthday celebration of our Winter Solstice Baby.  The dear sweet angel I live with was born on the Winter Solstice in the year 2006, December 22nd, at 4:43 pm.  Since that time, we’ve tried to make the Winter Solstice and her birthday bigger than the other big day in the month of December.  (I don’t have a Jewish background, so I’m not referring to Hannukah, though that should be noted as well.  Neither do I have any familiarity with Kwanzaa.  So Christmas is the day.)  All of that being said, we have tried to celebrate the Winter Solstice and her birthday as big, important events.  This year, the Solstice fell on the 22nd again.  (It moves around from the 21st to the 23rd.  All of that Leap Year stuff, and extra seconds in days and such.  I leave that to the calendar makers and take it for granted they know what they’re talking about.)

We have a big bonfire in the backyard (in our stone fire ring, don’t worry) and give thanks for the year that is passing and proclaim our wishes for the year to come.  We, in essence, celebrate the Winter Solstice by honoring the earth and all of her blessings.  Then we tromp inside and open presents and eat cupcakes and celebrate the birthday.  All in all, a beautiful day.

There was a bit of angst on the little one’s part the night before the big day as she told me (at 3:00 a.m. no less, after crawling into bed with us) “I don’t want to grow up.”  And then proceeded to quote J. M. Barrie to me (author of Peter Pan).  I was tired (who’s not at 3 a.m.??) and wasn’t following her very well, but the gist was that she simply didn’t want to grow up.  And turning 9 years old was quickly on the path to growing up.  I must have been able, in my semi-lucid state, to offer some sage words of advice as she soon drifted off to sleep.  I, of course, was then wide awake.  Story of my life.  The blessings of age?  Ha.  Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her that.   I told her it’s all part of the cycle of life.  (Back to The Lion King.  Which we still talk about as possibly the BESTEST live show we’ve EVER seen.)  And each new day with her is better than the last.  And even though I miss my baby, and miss my toddler and miss my 6 year old, I wouldn’t trade one single day with the little girl of today. And I’m excited to see what’s coming.  My life has been so blessed with this child who inhabits my universe.  I don’t know how to communicate that with enough fantastical words.  She is an absolute joy and I cannot believe my good fortune that I should be able to be her mother, guardian, teacher and guide in this life.  Thank you Goddess for this blessing.

Did I mention the snow?  Holy crow the snow!!!  Last year at this time, we were watching White Christmas at least twice a day hoping for some miracles to happen here.  We had a bit at Christmas, but truly not enough for the munchikin and me.  But this year?????  It’s unbelievable!  We have as much snow on the ground now as we had all winter last year.  We are SO excited by the beauty all around.  The husband?  Not so much.  But he’s out in it every day and exposed to the elements, while we sit in our warm house and marvel at the beauty.  Or go skiing!

Speaking of warm houses………the heater is fixed!!!!!!!!  Woo hoo hoo hoo hoo!!!!  The main heater for the house has been out for awhile and it was getting a bit chilly!  Now, I like the prospect of not being so blasted hot all the time, but this was a bit much.  We have a small portable heater that was trying mightily to heat the Great Room as I call it (dining area, kitchen, living area, school room area), but was failing miserably.  But all is well as there is now heat!  Yay!!!

I think there was more, but I’ve got to get planning the Christmas dinner, we’ve got to track Santa on the NORAD website and there are still a few bows and tags to place.

Blessings be on you and yours this beautiful Holiday Season.

This moose has been hanging around for a couple of months…remember the one investigating the satellite dish?  He traverses the hill outside our bedroom window regularly.  This was taken a few weeks ago.

The other pictures were taken yesterday during a winter squall that passed through.  Before I thought to snap some photos, it was so white we couldn’t even see our front yard!

That would be Ol’ Blue Eyes, the Chairman of the Board, Mr. Francis Albert Sinatra himself.

Were he to still be walking this earthly earth, he would have been 100 years old yesterday.  Frank Sinatra 100 years young.  Wow.  Could you imagine?

Be still my ♥.

I mean really.  What else can you say about Frank?

Sometimes I think I was born about 40 years too late.  I missed the good stuff.  The music, the glamour, the fun.

Ah well, such is life.

Happy Belated Birthday Frank!  I’m sure wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, the Universe is rippling with the sweet, sweet sounds of your magical voice.

The sky is the brilliant blue of a crisp, clear, frigidly cold winter morn.

Though, to be sure, is it “officially” winter yet?

It certainly is here.  And somehow I missed the coming of it I think.  We were going along about our business, with a very long, dry, warm fall that sort of just was here and then sort of just was gone.  We had no spectacular blooming of autumnal splendor.  No gorgeous fall colors.  I didn’t even rake leaves this year.  Really.   The leaves that fell were brown and shriveled and crispy and what’s the fun in that?  No big fluffy piles to jump in and throw around and roll around in.  Just a lot of detritus from the quaking trees all around us.

Then I think it got a little chilly.  The days grew shorter.  We had the ridiculous annual changing of the clocks ceremony (don’t even get me started).  We decorated for Halloween (yes, very early, as we love us some Halloween here).  I made a pirate costume.  We trick or treated–mostly treated.  The Halloween decorations came down.

I think it got a little chillier.  Then a little bit of snow dusted the ground.  Not much, but a taste of things to come?

And then the teasing of Christmas–the all-Christmas, all-the-time Christmas music stations, the hint of red and white packaging at stores–had us looking forward to our most favorite time of the year.  At least for the darling daughter and I.  Thank you Goddess for blessing my life with someone who appreciates the finer things.  What a joyful life for me!

We like turkey and stuffing, don’t get me wrong.  We had a lovely Thanksgiving dinner.  I started on Wednesday and didn’t leave the kitchen until Thursday night it seemed.  But you should have seen the turkey.  Holy moses was it gorgeous.  And, if I do say so myself, pretty darn delicious.  (For some unknown reason I cannot access my iPhoto photos to show you the gorgeous Thanksgiving spread.  See my instagram account instead.  @dlbvet I’ll keep working on it.  Maybe.)

And then we got the trees.  All three of them.  I know, I know.  We took down three trees.  After a long discussion with the daughter regarding the loss of the trees’ O2 producing and CO2 reducing potential.  In fact, before we set out, the munchikin had stated she didn’t want a tree for her room this year.  She wanted to save a tree instead.   This was good news as it meant one less tree to drag back down the mountain to the house.  But then she saw the perfect one.  And so we have three.

And now the house is decorated for Christmas.  There is more snow outside.  A moose walked by last night while the chili was simmering and I was attempting a new recipe for grain-free, egg-free “tortilla chips.”  (Which, by the way, earned thumbs up from everyone.)

How did we get here?  Time marching on.  The turning of the wheel.  The changing of the seasons.  A clarion call for learning to live in the moment.  To appreciate the bounty and beauty of each and every second we are blessed with.

Blessings to you this beautiful winter morn.

Many US lawmakers (governors, House of Representative members, Senators, GOP presidential candidates), some of whom are Democrats (shame, shame, shame on you) are bloviating (love that word) about how this country (the very same one that was founded by people emigrating from their homelands to AVOID religious persecution) should NOT allow any refugees from Syria because of the terrorists who operate there and because MUSLIM!  These same United States members of various branches of the government, at various levels, have also mentioned absurdities such as “Mary and Jesus didn’t wear suicide vests”  (Texas Republican Representative Brian Babin); “we should set up refugee camp to keep them segregated from our populous (sic)” (Rhode Island Republican state Senator Elaine Morgan); “…a practicing Muslim comes in all flavors (black, white, brown, yellow)…stop the Islamization of Missouri” (Missouri Republican state Senator Mike Moon).

Should I go on?

Are you disgusted yet?

Are you a mite bit confused as to the year we are living in?  I mean, these comments sure smack of, oh, say maybe 1942.  Not 2015.

Did we not learn a lesson regarding the forced internment of Japanese AMERICAN citizens?  What about the Jewish refugees from Germany we did NOT allow in to this country?  Anne Frank and her family were some of those.  Guess what happened to them.  Yeah.   Good on ya’ USA.

And here we go again.  Some 60 years later.  Still clinging to the fear and the false righteousness of religion.  Christian religion.

Here’s another gem from another brilliant lawmaker: “We need to activate the Tennessee National Guard and stop them from coming in to the state by whatever means we can,” said House GOP Caucus Chairman Glen Casada, R-Franklin, referencing refugees.

Yeah.  Ok. WHAT EVS.

Do you blooming idiots even realize how asininely ignorant (my two favorite words again) you sound?  Not to mention XENOPHOBIC, racist, bigoted, and pretty much yellow-bellied cowards sniveling in fear.  Ooh, I like those words.  Yellow-bellied cowards sniveling in fear.  What a picture you give to the rest of the world of supposedly the most advanced, strongest, bestest country in the world.  Good on you, idiots.  “Please proceed Governor” to continue to make the biggest horses’ rear-ends out of yourselves that you can.

Because get this:

“All the other known attackers, as well as Abaaoud, are of French and Belgian nationality with similar life stories of limited petty crime or drug taking, and radicalisation in their late teens or early twenties. At least four are known to have spent time in Syria with Islamic State extremists.

As European citizens, there was no need to resort to subterfuge or risk Mediterranean sea crossings to reach their target. They could travel freely around the continent even when the authorities in their home countries were aware of their extreme views and foreign travels.” http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/nov/18/paris-attacks-latest-evidence-st-denis-wider-conspiracy-isis

SO.  The attacks in Paris were the result of Belgian and European citizens.  Things that make you go “hmmmmm.”  What say you now bloviating, asininely ignorant, yellow-bellied cowards belching out great quantities of hot air?

So let me get this straight.  The United States lawmakers who pride themselves on being Christian and who insist that this country is a Christian country and who want this country to follow the “laws” of the Bible, in essence, want to discriminate against people who are trying to get away from terrorists who have been persecuting them.  People who are largely made up of women and children (I see lots of pictures of lots of babies and young children) and the men who comprise their family.  The very same Christian US lawmakers (I’m looking at you Paul Ryan) want to keep these people out, because they’re afraid these refugees are bad people.  Never mind the fact that these refugees are trying to flee from the really bad people (the ones who cut people’s heads off just because).  Never mind the fact that these refugees are simply trying to find somewhere to go where they aren’t being bombed and starved and terrorized.

You know, on second thought, if I was a Syrian refugee, given the vitriol and hatred that has been emanating from certain US lawmakers’ mouths, I’m not sure I’d want to land here after all.  I think I’d be starting to have second thoughts about journeying to “the land of the free and the home of the brave.”  I think I’d wonder if somehow the translation is off on the big green lady with the torch standing in the water on the eastern coast.  Cause it sure doesn’t seem like the United States is a very welcoming place.

Yeah, I’ll admit, that was a trick question.

Cause even kindergartners know the answer, though APPARENTLY the esteemed ridiculously xenophobic Republican governors and esteemed asinine GOP presidential candidates (lord love a duck they actually qualify to run for such a position?)–they don’t seem to understand this itty, bitty, teeny, weeny, eensy little fact.

America the Great, America the Beautiful was founded on the back of IMMIGRANTS.  Immigrants.  People who leave their homeland and travel to a new country.  Fairly certain that’s the dictionary definition (or close to).  I don’t feel like dragging out the good ol’ Funk and Wagnall’s at the moment, so I’m paraphrasing.  I could ask the 8-almost-9 year old I live with.  I’m sure she can tell me.

Not a single one of us, well, not the white ones anyway, can claim this land as rightfully ours, and only ours.  We were not here first.  Not by a long shot.  Every single one of us has descended from peoples who boarded boats (unless it was recent and then maybe we could add planes) with mostly the shirts on their backs and headed to this great new place to make a life for themselves and their families, either with them or to follow or to be made here.

I have to wonder if the ridiculous Republican governors (I think there was one Democrat) making the ridiculous and frankly, appalling, assertions that they will not allow Syrian refugees to be placed in their states know how utterly ridiculous, pompous, demagogic, xenophobic, and asininely ignorant they sound to the rest of the world.  Asininely ignorant.

Asininely ignorant.

I keep repeating those words because I think they have such a beautiful ring to them.  And if you pause and think about it, sum up those pesky idjits quite succinctly.  If I do say so myself.

Asinine ignorance.  That is exactly what is happening right now, as regards the bloviating being bloviated about the placement of refugees.  As the always intelligent (truly, no snark here, the chess master himself) President O said lately, “Don’t be afraid of widows and orphans.”  Because, in essence, that is what it boils down to.  The people who have been forced to flee their homeland, where they had a life, where they belonged, where they had a culture and a love for their way of living, have undertaken dangerous, exhausting journeys, with children in tow and with nothing except the clothes on their backs.  Can you imagine what would cause you to load up your family and head out on foot, ON FOOT, to attempt to reach another country, a completely foreign land, where you might be able to live in peace?  Can you imagine what would force you to endure such a journey?  I would bet the answer is no.

I can’t imagine setting off on foot (mostly because we drive EVERYWHERE, and for long periods of time) here with nothing but the clothes on my back, dragging my daughter along behind me.  Not knowing where I was going to be able to find food to feed her.  Or clothes warm enough to clothe her when the winter got under way.  Not knowing where we would end up, or if there was going to be a place for us.  Not knowing if I would be able to forge a new and safe life for her.  Leaving everything we know, everything we hold dear, everything important to our way of life.  I simply cannot imagine the events that would force me to undertake such a journey.  And then I simply cannot imagine the journey itself.  Across bodies of water.  Packed into trains, boats, buses, trucks.  In a foreign land, many foreign lands.  Not knowing the language.  Seeing guns and concertina wire designed to keep me out.  The insults hurled our way.  The snarling, seething mobs of people trying to keep us out.  Maybe feeling caught between the horrors we were forced to leave in order to survive and the horrors of the unknown to come, the horrors of knowing that no country wants us.

No, I cannot imagine.

I sit here in my warm and comfortable home.  With plenty to eat.  With plenty to wear.  With plenty.

I sit here, secure in the knowledge that this is my home.  This cozy little warm house stocked with enough food and water and clothing to survive the winter.  This house in this state in this country.  This is my home.  And I am incredibly fortunate for this blessing.  And I am incredibly grateful.

All because my great-grandfather boarded a boat over a hundred years ago and sailed for the promised land.  And met my great-grandmother whose family had already boarded boats.  And so on and so on and so on.

Now, truth be told, my great-grandfather and his compatriots weren’t treated all that well for awhile, seeing signs such as “Irish need not apply.”  The Italians were called “wops.”  The Jews.  Oh my god the Jews.  I just read something yesterday that in January 1939 a request was made to accept 10,000 Jewish refugee children from Germany.  Do you know what happened??  It’s absolutely pathetic.  The Congress voted 61% to 39% AGAINST bringing the children here. Children.  Congress said no.  They didn’t come.  They most likely died a horrid death.  That’s on us I would say.

History repeats itself they say.  Today I would agree.

In 1941, this country rounded up AMERICANS of Japanese descent and placed them in camps.  Under the idiotic assertions it was for their own good.  But the truth?  Fear.  Plain and simply.  Fear of those different from “us.”

And now those esteemed Republican governors have stated they don’t want no Syrian refugees muddying up their doorsteps.

Some of the asininely ignorant GOP candidates for the most prestigious office in the land have said we should only allow in Christians, as there is no risk of Christians committing any of these heinous acts of terrorism the world has seen lately.  That would be Jeb! and Mr. Cruz, in all of his slimyness who suggested some sort of religious test for those attempting to shelter in this land.

Good grief Charlie Brown.  Do we need to open up Ellis Island again?  Do we need to go garage-saling and see if we can find those “Irish need not apply” signs and with a little paint we could change that to “Syrians, Muslims, Arabs Anyone who isn’t white, need not apply.”  Actually, maybe those asininely ignorant could simply make signs and stand at the airports and the beaches and the land bordering Mexico (because lord love a duck, we can’t forget the children being shipped up here from Central America by their parents desperate to save their childrens’ lives).  Their signs would read: “Anyone who isn’t white and wasn’t born here, don’t even think of entering this country.”

Fear is EXACTLY what the terrorists were after.  Fear of them and the possibilities of what they could do is EXACTLY what they want.  The posturing and bloviating that has occurred in the last couple of days regarding the Syrian refugees gives them (the terrorists) EXACTLY what they wanted.

Way to go governors.  Please proceed to wow the world with your absolutely asinine ignorance.  You have just made this country look even more ridiculous and pathetic.

Here is how it’s done:

NEW: Pres. Hollande commits to taking 30,000 refugees in next 2 years; says France has duty to honor that commitment. “Life must go on.” ABC News (@ABC) November 18, 2015

The above was seen on Twitter.  (I tried to copy and paste the link to twitter, but in all of my ignorant ITness, I couldn’t get it done.  You can easily search for the story.)

The President of France, whose country was just rocked by terrorist attacks that MAY be linked to someone who entered their country with other Syrian refugees, just stated that “LIFE MUST GO ON.”  And then committed to taking 30,000 Syrian refugees over the next 2 years.

That is the way to get it done.  Not fear-mongering.  Not xenophobia.  Not bloviating about irrationally, asininely ignorant blatant discrimination.

I say this to the idjits insisting on only allowing in Christians–you gonna make all of us take your stupid little Christian test in order to stay here?  Cause I’m fairly certain there would be a lot of us ‘Muricans who wouldn’t pass your ridiculous, damned test.

Get over yourselves.  We are a nation of immigrants, founded on the back of immigrants.  And there ain’t nuthin’ anywhere stating one must be a Christian to come here.  Never was.  Isn’t now.  Won’t ever be.  Get over yourselves.

Snow.

Political disharmony.

Terrorist acts.  Death and destruction.

More snow.  Finally.

Controversy.  Over anything and anybody.

Hungry birds.  Note:  I wrote “hungry” not “angry.”

Little girls who wake up in the middle of the night, procure a hidden flashlight, and read Calvin and Hobbes until the wee hours of the morning.

More snow.  Thank the Goddess.  (About an inch in the last 30 minutes!  Yay!!)

Tired little girls, still asleep.

Bins of holiday decorations to be decorating with.  Oh hell’s bells, I’ll just say it.  Christmas decorations.  But, as per earlier post, Christmas to me is so much more than a concocted story about three very, very rich men (Think Fiddler on the Roof here, remember that very Jewish song?  Loved that musical.  But I digress.  As per usual.)–back to the rich dudes traveling to see a baby in the hay.  Just like I told Jeb! not to ruin my JOY, I’m gonna say this, and I seriously don’t expect a lightning bolt to drop out of the sky (mostly cause it’s just humongously big flakes falling right now), but Christians, please don’t be ruining my Christmas for me with your fabricated outrage at the way some of us heathens/pagans celebrate the season.   There.  I’m out of the closet again.  That feels so much better.

Now I’m going to go check on the still slumbering sweetness in the back room.  Tonight I’m thinking I’m going to do have to perform a flashlight raid.  Maybe a book raid as well, but with the sheer number of books in her room, that would really be a stupid task to undertake.  I’ll settle on absconding with the flashlights.  If I can find them all.  Methinks there are several hidden in strategic spots.  That child.

I’m also off to snap a couple of pictures of the white stuff.  So pretty.  As per usual.  If I can get them to transfer as they should between all of these nifty Apple products, then I’ll update this post.

Blessings be this wintry Monday morning.

Vaya con dios.  (See, I can be reasonable.)

UPDATE:  Cynthia Lummis is resigning!  Yay, yay, and more yay.  Woo hoo hoo hoo hoo.  This makes me all kinds of happy.  Sort of along the lines of the John Boehner resignation (in my very humble opinion).  HOWEVER, what makes me all kinds of unhappy is that Ms. Liz Cheney (yes, that Cheney) of the resident-fishing-license acclaim, the “I’m a Wyomingian because my dad was a long time ago and I’ve lived in Wilson-sort of- all of a few months.”  That Liz Cheney.  Ewwwwww.  Gross.  That sort of put a damper on my happy dance.  Trading one for the other is like trading cooked spinach for cooked Swiss chard.  Ewwwww.  Ick.

And so it goes.

“You know her.”

“She knows you.”

“She’s trying to eat him.”

“And everybody’s ok with this????”

“DID I MISS SOMETHING?????!!!!!!”

Sorry.  Couldn’t help myself.  There is something troubling me to no end and I need someone else to ‘splain it to me, but we saw The Lion King this weekend and I simply cannot get Timon out of my head.  You know, right?  When the grown-up Nala finds the grown-up Simba after she was trying to eat Puumba (in her defense, she’s coming from a desperately depleted homeland where there is a dearth of prancing antelope) and Timon is having a difficult time assimilating the 411.

In deference to my serious digression from the topic that is causing my cerebrum to vibrate with irritation, I feel I must give a shout-out to the stage production of The Lion King.  Holy crow.  We were treated by our generous benefactor, who shall remain nameless but who is truly a generous soul and without whom we would not have been able to experience the experience of a lifetime, to a front and center viewing of a Broadway sensation.  The darling diva I live with and I could find no words as we left the theatre.  The only way we could describe the previous two hours was “beyond beyond.”  It was simply beyond anything we’ve seen or experienced (note to self:  find the thesaurus) thus far.  It was truly beyond beyond.  The Lion King is near and dear to my heart and I wore out my VHS copy of it long before the diva graced me with her presence.  After she arrived, the VHS copy limped along and attempted to remain in service so that she too could fall in love…and here’s the bottom line…our trio’s down to two.  The sweet caress of twilight.  There’s magic in the air.  And with all this romantic atmosphere……….disaster’s in the air.  Can you feel…oh sweet lord I think I’ve seen the movie one too many times.  I spontaneously break into song in my cranium at any moment, prompted by a stray word hither or yon.  What’s a girl to do?

Talk about your earworms.

Good grief.  Let me leave this land of warm fuzzies remembering the beyond beyond experience (note to self:  MUST find thesaurus) and return to my original premise.

So let me get this straight.  Somehow, in some way, Starbucks is leashing an all-out, downright, honest-to-goodness war on the Christians’ Christmas because the ubiquitous red cups trotted out every year at this time are conspicuously devoid of…well…what exactly?  This is where I’m a little confused.  And the 411 just isn’t adding up in my overstuffed cabeza.  (Geez, that makes me sound like I have a melon for a head or something.  Bad mental image.  But I’m tired and I’m not going back to find another word for head, brain, cranium, cerebrum.  I can be own damn thesaurus if necessary I guess.  Yay me.)

Back to my confusion.  Yes, I am easily confused.   I’ll be the first to admit it.  But I’m not understanding why the Christians are all miffed.  No Christmas trees or reindeer or holly wreaths or Santas on the red cups?  (And in all honesty, I’m trying to remember the previous years’ designs and can’t come up with anything specific at the moment.)  I can’t square this circle.  I can’t make it add up.  I’m not equating plain red cups at the holidays (Starbucks tradition, happens every year, just like Daylight Savings Time–don’t EVEN get me started on that one–the World Series, and Black Friday–though hats off to REI for bucking the trend this year)–with a war on Christmas.

Now, if the Starbucks holiday cups to hold the holiday drinks (Peppermint Mocha being the best ever) were say, black?  Would the Christians be all up in arms about a war on Christmas then?  Is it the color that’s bad?  Or is it that there are no reindeer or snowmen on the cups?  Cause I think I’m remembering snowmen at one time.  Cute ones too.  But how do snowmen on a red cup equate with the true Christian meaning of Christmas?  Cause I’m going to go out on a limb here and make the assumption that the true Christian meaning of Christmas has something to do with the supposed hallowed birth of a little baby, supposedly born in a manger, supposedly to a woman who may have channeled her inner Bill Clinton and said something along the lines of “I did not have sexual relations with that man.”  Lord love a duck but I’m getting lost in my own run-on sentence.  I hate it when that happens.  It’s just that I am so flipping confused by this brouhaha.

Now then.  If the Starbucks holiday cups had at one time had pictures on them of the aforementioned cute little tyke all swaddled in a piece of fabric nestled in the hay with maybe a donkey or a cow thrown in as well, then I guess, maybe, possibly, one might be able to make the argument that Starbucks was abandoning their previous Christian Christmas mission and just going all bland red this year.  And that somehow spelled out “w-a-r-o-n-c-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s.”

My head hurts.

I for one simply can not see the logic in the argument that Starbucks is waging it’s own war on a holiday, based on the fact that their seasonal/holiday cups are plain red.

I’m not seeing it.

And believe me you.  I love me some Starbucks.  And I love me some Christmas (see earlier post about coming out of the closet).  And I really love me some Starbucks Christmas.  The darling diva and I get excited each year when they finally open all the boxes and put everything on display.  Then we ooh and ahh together at the cute little ornaments and yummy looking treats and whatnot.

Christmas consumerism.  That’s what it is.  Plain and simple.

I’m thinking that if the Christians want to be all hot and bothered and rant and rave about some imaginary “war on Christmas” then perhaps they should start with the big daddy of them all.  Santa himself.  And his little sidekick with the red nose.

Cause I don’t know about you, but I’m fairly certain that the dude in the red coat with the big belly that shook like a bowl full of jelly and the proboscis-challenged cervid were NOT hanging out with the manger crowd some 2000 years ago.  So if anybody co-opted Christmas, I’m thinking he and his ilk would be it.  I’m just sayin’.

Course, we could ask ol’ Ben.  He’d probably know the answer.  Just like he knows that the Egyptian pyramids were built by Joseph to store grain (not bodies) and the ark (Noah’s boat) was not built by professionals, as opposed to the Titanic.  Oh, and the earth is only 6000 years old and evolution is not a thing.

Yup.  I think someone should ask Ben Carson if Santa and Rudolph embody the true meaning of a Christian Christmas and by leaving the snowmen and the reindeer off of their holiday cups, then Starbucks is engaging in downright war.

That could potentially be such an interesting answer.

And on that note, I’m off to dreamland.

Blessings be on you and yours.

(And hats off to Starbucks for once again being the scapegoat for the ills of this world.  Oy vey.)

As per usual, let me start off with the most sincerest of sincere apologies for the pathetic lack of documented photographic evidence of what I am about to relate.

Remember the Sunday evening show “The Wild Kingdom?”  Nature in all of its natural glory.  Gazelles being gorged upon by gigantic lion prides.  Hyenas ripping chunks out of carrion as they dodged the wayward swipe of a lion’s paw.  Dried up water holes and dying-of-thirst animals.

I seem to only remember the drama of life and death.  I suppose that is either good or bad. But that is neither here nor there.  Sunday evenings left an indelible image on my impressionable brain.

This was all tempered by the Wonderful World of Disney in which animals sang and danced and talked.  I met an old horseman in California named Bud who told me the animal world was doing just fine until Walt Disney came along.  And then he (Mr. Disney) ruined it for the entire “industry” (for lack of a better word).  Bud went on to explain to me that until Bambi, deer were just deer and it was ok to hunt them and eat them and whatnot.  But Bambi changed the dynamics of the world forever.

Eventually I went to veterinary school, where I was able to witness life and death of animals firsthand.  I was even fortunate enough to travel to Africa the first summer of vet school with EnviroVet, a program designed to expose veterinary students to wildlife research and medicine.  Invaluable experiences for sure.  And ones that helped me return to the premise of The Wild Kingdom and the belief in the cycles of nature.  Now, to be sure, Mr. Disney never shied away from the harsh realities of life.  Bambi’s mother meets an untimely death and he is left a sort-of orphan.  Enter the modern-day Bambi story and you have Simba and Mufasa.  “But dad, don’t we eat the antelope?”  “Yes Simba.  That is the circle of life.  The antelope eat the grass, we eat the antelope and when we die, our bodies become the earth.  The grass grows.  And the circle continues.”  (I totally paraphrased that sentence, sorry.)

And now I am SO far past where I started out that I had to go back to my title and try to remember what I wanted to write about.

Ah yes.  The Wild Kingdom in full technicolor in our front yard.

And I would have left to get the digital camera so that I could have snapped off some shots worthy of the best wildlife photographers out there, but truth be told, I was mesmerized.  Captivated by the circle of life unfolding before our eyes.

Hypothetical question:  if a fox were to catch a rodent, which end would he eat first–the tail or the head?

Seriously not kidding here.  Yesterday afternoon, instead of working on the map of Asia and all of its countries, we stood at the bedroom window and watched our resident Brother Fox pounce on a rodent, pull it up out of the snow with its tail dangling out of one side of his mouth, and then proceed to devour it whole.  With the tail and back legs twitching until they disappeared.  Not kidding.  We were transfixed.  And I have no photographic proof, but the darling diva will certainly corroborate my story if need be.

Then he licked his lips (really) and trotted on over to the bird feeder where he proceeded to clean up the ground of all the fallen seed.  A not very smart chickadee almost became the fox’s dessert but quickly flew out of reach.  That was totally cool to see as the fox jumped up into the air and almost caught the bird.  Not so cool for the bird, but seriously dude, you must pay attention out there.  Survival of the fittest and all.

We’re fairly certain Brother Fox is a brother as he’s seen marking territory and leaving pieces of scat strategically placed to drive the dogs bonkers.  I don’t think a female would do that, but then whoever knows with The Wild Animal Kingdom?

For a split second, I felt as if  I shouldn’t let the darling diva witness the fox devouring the rodent, but just as quickly I relished the opportunity for her to see life, up close and personal.  In all of its finalities and unpleasantness.  It was a grand teaching moment, one that we have visited many times over, since the first viewings of The Lion King and the death of Mufasa.

So maybe Mr. Disney had it right all along, eh?  A healthy dose of reality doled out by the cute singing, dancing, wisecracking characters of his shows.

Regardless.  As tough as it must have been for that rodent (I couldn’t tell what it was…too big for a mouse, but a long tail so not a mole…??), the fox needs to eat to survive.

Circle of life and all.

Blessings be.

(P.S.  In answer to the hypothetical posed above:  the head first.  Much easier to get the squirming, wriggling creature down the hatch.)