Attached/Detached Portions

There is just too much in this world for me to even start to blog about. I learned tonight that when you bend uncooked spaghetti that it will never break into two pieces, it will always break into 3 or more pieces. They called it "fragmentation theory". Sounds like a good name. Then there is a place in Nebraska called Carhenge where people can visit cars and trucks stuck vertically into the ground in various positions. Quite the tourist spot it is. I can't wait to see it. Ahem. It snowed on our mountain last night. Last time I looked it was April and this is Arizona. It snowed. Next thing you know there will be an earthquake. Then I got a Customer Info booklet from my bank that said they will maintain appropriate records of my Account. That is a relief. I'd hate to have to figure up my own account balance! I am the product of the public school system. Give me a break. And they will by going to arbitration if I have a claim, counterclaim, cross claim, third party claim, interpleader or otherwise. I especially like the interpleader. Is that like a religious guy who stands in the gap? Anyway, I don't like the sound of arbitration. What comes to mind is a kangaroo court. My apologies to Australia. The alpha kangaroo wins. Not the one who is right. But the biggest, meanest kangaroo. Now if it is me in one corner and the Bank in the other, who is the more impressive boxer? Boxers or briefs? Forget the Boxer, I prefer looking at the Mini Cooper although a Toyota Corolla could run over it like a speed bump. Not sure I'd want to actually ride in one in traffic. I'd feel safer on my motorcycle. There is a motorcycle buried in an old graveyard near me. Not a motorcyle-henge. It is actually six feet under. I think because that is what the guy who owned it wanted. And there aren't many cemeteries that take motorcycles. At the moment I can't remember if the guy is buried with his machine or not. The human part escapes me. Is that what happens when someone kills another person on the spur of the moment? The human part takes a brief hiatus? In Alzheimer's your personality goes on permanent holiday. I think you need an interpleader then. Because there is going to be money involved and that attracts lawyers. I firmly believe that when it comes to the legal system, your past, present and future income will, should and shall become subject to fragmentation, in theory and in truth.

Abduction

Occam have a short story to tickle the insides of your craniums today. All original by yours truly and it was no dream:

There was a dream I had. I was a young boy living in the Mid-West, in farm country. The horizon stretched to infinity. One hot afternoon a massive storm approached. The dark gray clouds were more than ominous. Not the clouds one would see when there were tornado warnings. These were different. Mother was shutting the house windows and had already taken the laundry off the clothesline. The clouds built up to enormous heights. I felt I was under a tsunami about to break over my head. Nothing would be left of me when it struck down. Shapes swirled in the blackest clouds. Angry horses. I thought I must be dreaming but the cooling air on my arms felt real. Lightening flashed. I could faintly hear my mother called my name. Why were the horses so angry? I reached out to them. If I only could show them I was friendly and no threat to them. The wind gusted. My mother screamed for me. I never looked back. Nothing was left but those dark eyes piercing me, hooves flashing by my ear. Then I was taken. By the black, eternal sky.

Earth Day

Occam had to put A/C on in house for first time this year. Earth Day? More like dry heat day. I celebrated Earth Day by picking up debris that could blow into my swimming pool. And unceremoniously dumping it elsewhere on my acreage. My tall, healthy Australian Eucalyptus tree is dropping seeds & leaves like crazy. Maybe this down under native has our seasons reversed. It is spring, not fall, you messy tree! But it does have some redeeming features. It grows in the desert and it gives shade. Even if it does bombard you with seeds in April.

The Lyrids Meteor Shower is tonight. But I looked last night. All I saw was an airplane cut through the handle of the Big Dipper. I live far enough from a major airport that those high planes are silent as they cruise on overhead, blinking in the night, shining silver in the day. I'll never forget the days following the 9-11 terrorist attack when no planes, high or low flew overhead. The sky looked as it did 100 years ago. Pure. And to us: abnormal. Our lives are imbued by so many unnatural artifacts, that we can't think it should be any other way. Photographs from space show the lights of the earth at night. Do you pollute the night sky with a badly aimed security light? I live near an astronomical observatory, so we are cognizant of improper night lighting that can lessen the abilities of those telescopes. Nothing is as velvet as the dark desert night with the scents of a thousand nocturnal flowering plants luring the bats, the moths, to fertilize them. That is the Earth speaking.

Fun With Taxes & Postage

This is my 100th post in this blog. I'm starting to get the hang of it...

Today I paid property taxes. They aren't terribly crushing here in the outback of Arizona. But they still complexiate me. I can understand county tax, school tax, and fire district tax. But I, located on a hill overlooking a dry wash full of new homes, I, must pay $4 for flood district taxes? Oh, it must be for that 10,000 year flood that may involve my property. And for my 40 acres in Northern Arizona I pay $2 for flood control too, even though that vacant land is on a hill overlooking a dry wash. For you non-desert types, a wash is a dry bed of a stream also known as an arroyo. It is more comfortable to say wash because the more romantic word arroyo is colorful but tough on the tongue which gets wrapped around my eye tooth and then I can't see what I am saying. What do you mean? Complexiate is not a real word? Well, why not? This is the income tax deadline date for most of the US, and if anything is complexiated, it is the IRS.

Overheard in the U.S. Post Office today: a customer saying to the clerk: "I don't want to give the government anymore than I have to." The federal government employee, the clerk, let that one slide. Smart move. He probably earns a lot more than she does. I tread on dangerous ground when it comes to the USPS though. I use the mail service a lot. I appreciate the security and generally good service they provide. And half my family was or is employed by the Postal Service: a brother, an uncle, 2 nephews and a niece. My sister dresses as a mail carrier for Halloween. And they still deliver on Saturdays! But why do they insist on such odd numbers for the letter rate? 37 cents, now 39 cents. 24 cents for an additional ounce. 84 cents to Australia, 63 cents to Canada. No wonder they must use computers to ring up your sale at the counter! Ah just kidding there. I know it is for auditing purposes and all that. I am sure the clerk can add 39 plus 24 in his or her head. But I still like to stick a few 3 cent, 5 cent, and 23 cent stamps on the envelope and see how long it takes him or her to figure out how much more postage I need. That is not as bad as the letter I once received that was covered in 1 cent stamps, up to the correct postage amount. And was delivered as usual. Let's just say that the letter was a result of frustration and complexiation.

Easter

I took a break from blogging due to illness. I am back!

Today is Easter Sunday for many people. One of my earliest memories of this day is hunting through the house for my little basket of goodies. The basket was made of wicker and it was reused year after year. Then everyone got dressed up in their finery and we went to church, which was an elaborate affair. Later we went to a close family member's house for a large meal with many other relatives and then I got to watch "The Robe" or the "Ten Commandments" or something special on TV. Note these were all indoor activities because in the Northeastern US it could be any kind of weather on Easter: sun, rain, snow. Here in AZ we have "Sonrise" services outdoors at 6 AM, outdoor egg hunts, picnics, etc. It probably has not rained on Easter in 100 years.

There is much discussion over the origins of Easter celebrations: the Easter bunny being a symbol of fertility, Easter "eggs" more obvious, the "spring is here" kind of hope - even if it is snowing in the Northeastern US - new green life emerging from the dead earth. A resurrection, if you please. A large part of the history of the holiday emerges from the connection with the Jewish Passover, where the angel of death passed over the protected households and yet afflicked the Egyptian homes causing the deaths of the firstborn of the slave masters. At that final straw, so to speak, the Egyptians freed their Hebrew slaves, and Moses led his people out of bondage: to a new life and a land of milk and honey. A couple more metaphors for life emerging from death. Finally we have the worldview of the Christians, who see man as having a corruptable body, a corruptable mind. But after Jesus Christ's sacrificial death and resurrection, the Easter story, man has hope of life after death. An imperfect life which appears to die forever, can live again in a new, perfect body because it follows the example of Jesus. A kernel of corn must die to produce the corn stalk. The corn plant must grow with vigor to produce seed after its' kind. Then it must die to be succeeded. That is how it follows on earth. But Jesus came 2000 years ago to show there was more than this seemingly endless cycle. There is milk and honey for those who believe. Or you can stay in Egypt.

Now, I like Egypt. They have fabulous pyramids there, the Sphinx, the Nile, shopping bazaars to die for, unique and healthy food, and the best thing for me, authentic Egyptian Arabian horses! It's a rich culture. But I wouldn't want to be a slave there. I have a hard enough time making bricks with straw. I choose to believe the Easter story as interpreted in the Holy Scriptures. I prefer to accept the authority of God on this earth and His promise of Easter, than remain in the moldering for eternity.

Books & Horses

Books are my friends. They wait for me indefinitely, on the shelf, on the end table, on the night stand. Sometimes they wait so long that they get dust on them. They don't mind. I love them, old and new. Some books I read twice. Maybe more. I like clever fiction. Margaret Atwood wrote a book about a book within a book. I loved "The Blind Assassin". I may read it again. Silverfish live with me too, no doubt, although I rarely see them.

Today I bought a horse book for one of my granddaughters. It isn't her birthday. She doesn't even live in Arizona. But if her girl's heart is anything like mine was at her age, a horse book is a door to love. The lifelong love of horses, in the flesh, in film, and on the printed page. Maybe today we can add the electronic horse. Proudly strutting forth on PC screens. I need to put more photos of horses in my blog. After all, what is a ranch without horses?

A double barrel cactus horse ranch? Hay, that would make a good title for...

Some Trek

Occam is of a certain age where she watched Captain James T. Kirk religiously on TV in the late 1960's. Today he has a renewed life as a lawyer on Boston Legal. I think lawyers are a necessary evil, sort of like psychiatrists, but this lawyer show is a mind-meld of comedy and drama. Led by the brilliant acting of William Shatner. One could almost begin to see lawyers as humans. I laughed so hard at tonight's episode that I made my throat sore. There are still good screenwriters in Hollywood. They haven't all moved to a galaxy far, far away.

Shatner is a horseman. He used to raise American Saddlebreds and still might for all I know. But the latest I hear is that this 75 year old enjoys riding his reining horses. You know, the ones that do those slides and spins? I am inspired once again. It must be true what my husband told me about his horse-shoeing customer, age 80, female, who was the only person who could ride her two grey Arabian stallions. And she did, daily. If I had a choice, I'd like to be her successor. But I am not quite 80. And there is not a single grey Arabian stallion on the Double Barrel Ranch. Anyone who'd like to remedy that can leave a comment...

I would hope to be awake at 1:02:03 AM tomorrow so I could say I was writing at 01:02:03, 04-05-06, but I'm not a night owl. Interesting convergence of numbers though. But is that Daylight Savings Time or Standard Time?

I'm setting up barrels for my horses. I want to learn them to leap barrels, just fer the fun of it. But I'm a-hoping they won't connect that jumping to jumping their corral fences!

Lately everyone has been buying new motor vehicles around me. One party bought a Hyundai Santa Fe 2001, and another bought a GMC Tahoe 2003. I hope they last 100,000 miles. My first new car was advertised for $2695 and I was so shocked to find they added stuff like sales tax, title, registration, dealer prep, delivery. I was young, naive and they saw me coming. I drove it nearly 70,000 miles and then sold it in rough shape for $500 in 1982 so that wasn't too bad. My next new car I sold at 150,000 miles for $500 so I seem to have a trend going. My current forest green baby ain't going until 300,000 miles and I want $500 for it. I should be near 80 years old. Then you can beam me up, Scottie.

Canine Value

Basal Cell Carcinoma is diagnosed in 800,000 Americans every year. Count me among them. Through the magic of electrodessication my doctor is confident he "got" all the cancerous tissue. Burning skin smells loathsome. It reminded me of all the sunburns I've had on my back. Now, years later, comes the final price I pay for being a pale immigrant from the north to the sunny desert. This is likely only the first skirmish I'll have with BCC. Others may be more disfiguring. Oh heck, my dog will always love me!

I've not been well for a couple days. I thought of those 80-some people who have taken advantage of Oregon's assisted suicide law since it has been in effect. Medical doctors take an oath to "first, do no harm" and I can't see how that coexists with prescribing lethal doses of drugs to people weary of life and fighting pain. I understand these people may have had intractable pain. But I believe the human body has a defense against that. You faint. You die. Those 80 or so people didn't need to implicate others. Time would've taken care of them and their problems. But this is an efficient society. Those 80 people, they should've had a dog.

It's About Time

They're going to start mucking about with the clock again shortly. I hate this changing from Standard Time to Daylight Savings Time. In Arizona we do not change our clocks (except for the Navajo Reservation up north). Things seem more steady, less neurotic. But the rest of the U.S. - they have to go "springing forward" or "falling back" in the spring and fall. And confusing me to pieces. It is tough enough for me to remember that back east they are ahead of me in time. What is back is ahead, and in the spring they are further ahead than in the winter. What the? I don't even want to think about it. I am going to bed. And every morning when I get up, the clock will have been ticking away normally. Unlike everywhere else where they save time by confusing me.

The Natural Murder

Why would a woman shoot her husband in the back and take off with their kids? Do the various scenarios change if you find the woman's husband was a minister in a small town church? It shouldn't, but the MSM makes it seem worse if the killer is a preacher's wife than your everyday housewife. People snap. It is just a human condition. Christian or not, life is a trial. I would be more surprised if the media reported that she didn't seem like a normal housewife. The BTK killer was a typical man next door, Jeffrey Dahmer was an average nice guy. There is evil in our midst. Be alert and do not be bewildered by what you see. All is as it is meant to be. You are more likely to be killed by someone who "loves" you than a stranger. Deal with it.

As The World Turns

My last post, three days ago, was about the man on trial in Afghanistan for converting from Islam to Christianity. Today it was all over the MSM (Main Stream Media). Blogger beats MSM to the hot topic again!

I took a little camping trip again. Forgot to bring a spoon and had to go beg off the campers nearby. They were from Colorado on their annual trek to the desert to enjoy the great weather. We've had plenty of that this winter and now, spring. I didn't mention my camping trips to Colorado in the summer to escape the AZ heat...

The horses are shedding like crazy. One should not wear black clothing near a horse at this time of year. I can't help but give hugs and pats to my appreciative equines whenever I am near them and I have the hair-covered black clothing to show for it.

It'll be a real shame and loss when the bird flu reaches the US. I love to eat grilled chicken. I'll assume that poultry will increase in price should there be the wholesale slaughters of possibly infected flocks that have occurred elsewhere. But my pet cat is relieved to learn that no infected cats have died from the bird flu. This seems to be an odd flu since it infects such disparate animals: birds, people and cats.

Someone suggested that Denmark send in a secret military squad to kidnap Mr. Rahman from the Afghan jail to bring him to a country where there is freedom of worship. Sort of a payback to Islamists who burned the Danish embassy. Clever idea. Also I wish to mention the problem for Moslems who want respect in Europe. Their religion is very different from the way of life of most modern Europeans. Many Moslems wear traditional clothing, veils for women for example. It is not the easiest culture to assimulate into a Western tradition. They have pretty high expectations from a Europe that has discriminated against another foreign culture that wears Western clothes, whose religion is practically invisible if practised at all, and who have contributed immensely to European intellectual advancement for centuries. I am talking of course about the Jews. Europe was relieved to get them out of Europe and sent back to their homeland. What will they do with the Moslems?

In the US we either kill off inconvenient populations with White Man diseases that they have no immunity to, marry them to dilute the blood, or turn our attention to the next population in the spotlight. Hispanics today.

Day by day, the clock ticks away. We are Danes, Afghans, Israeli, illegal immigrants who crossed the border one night into the US. We have thirst, we look to the sun, the stars and the moon. If we live long enough, we realize that our differences are not that important. It rains on rich and poor alike. The road is hard. Let us reflect.

Mr. Abdul Rahman, Christian

A 41 year old man is on trial in Afghanistan for converting from Islam to Christianity. This crime is punishable by the death penalty. The prosecutor offered to drop the charges if the man changed back and renounced Christianity but the man refused. American troops are in Afghanistan to help them establish democracy. Is this a proper law in a free country? Do they have any idea how this will play in Europe and the Americas if this man is executed? If all those "peace activists", who have been demonstating this past week, were to put that energy into shaming Afghanistan for keeping such backward laws, maybe they'd save this man's life. But that is just a dream, these people are only out for the display and the general good feeling that comes from being for "peace", not to solve specific problems in the world.

Wishing On A Star

If I was standing in front of a fountain, preferably in Italy on a soft summer night, what would I wish before tossing the coin into the water? We all want world peace, so I won't go there. Would I wish for lifelong love? Gobs of money? Health? Which would be most valuable? Love without money and health is bittersweet. Money without love or health is hopeless. Health without love or money is frustrating. I think I'll just wish for a tasty banana split.

Time is flying faster than the Concorde. Oops! That plane was retired. I'm tired too. Tired of idiocy I see in every direction. I don't believe man evolved from apes because we have too many stupid genes to have survived. But a Creator may well have given us these handicaps to develop our empathy. I am running out of empathy. Were can I gas up with some more? My imagination is growing cold. Whinning looks childish to me. They need a good slap in the face. This is not politically correct. But I have to feeling that they will pull themselves off the floor and be better people after doing some humble time. I've had my turn at humbling experiences. I've grieved over my failures. The stars still circle overhead. Even during the day, they're still up there. Let them be a witness. We are a desperate genus. Without imagination.

Without Guinness

As far as I know, I do not have any Irish blood. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate the Emerald Isle and wear green on St. Patrick's Day. Green is my favorite color. I've never been to Ireland, but I slept in a certain hotel last night! No, just kidding. Many great horses are bred in Ireland. Must be something in the soil. When horses eat shamrocks they run faster? Jump higher? I love corned beef and cabbage. And it loves me. James Joyce makes a great author to read in high school English class. Finally, as a youngster, I had a few freckles. So I will crown myself honorary Irish. Even on the day after St. Patrick's Day. Disclaimer: I am not writing this under the influence of Guinness.

More Saguaros

Cactus photo
Originally uploaded by edification.

Three young saguaro cacti, maybe only 50 to 75 years old. "Arms" don't appear on Saguaros until they are rather advanced in years in human terms. Picture taken in Catalina State Park, Tucson, AZ, Feb 23, 2006.

This Person is a Live One!

I think I've had a rite of passage. I just had the first removal of suspicious skin spots that could be cancerous. The curse of the light-skinned Caucasian living in Arizona. I say it was my first removal because it is unlikely to be my last. These things often take 25 years to develop and even though I am careful of sunburn today, I wasn't so careful many years ago. It reminds me of one of my father's favorite sayings: If I knew I was going to live this long, I would've taken better care of myself.

I am not frightened to learn the biopsy result. 85% of skin cancers are not serious. Besides, everyone has to die of something.

I spoke some uncomfortable words to my good doctor. I overheard his nurse refer to me in the hallway as "the lesion". Yes, I had a lesion. But I am a person with a lesion, or a patient with a lesion. Due to confidentiality laws she could not say my name aloud but that doesn't excuse her disrespect of me as a human being. My doctor had no defense. He would speak to her. He admitted that sometimes people become their diseases and it wasn't good medicine. Under his breath he was probably saying: son of a gun this lesion is a live one!

The Mad Artist

There is a debate on the etiology of Vincent Van Gogh's mental health. Evidently his case is unique due to his artistic genius and well-preserved letters wherein he minutely described his psychological anguish. He also consumed copious amounts of absinthe, an alcoholic beverage later banned for its' toxicity. (It can cause epileptic seizures.) So what is my excuse? Granola. It has to be the granola. I eat copious amounts of it and then am seized with an uncontollable urge to write letters, or blog, or fall asleep, I can't remember which. Van Gogh had amnesia too. So it has to be the milk in my cereal. Do you really know what pasteurization does to it? Pasteur was French like Van Gogh, and you know how those French are. All that champagne and goose liver paste. It must be toxic. Do I have to paint you a picture?

Horse Show Horse

Horse Show Horse
Originally uploaded by edification.

One of the lively Arabian stallions at the Scottsdale Arabian Horse Show.

Letters

Two days have gone by without any mail in my snail mailbox. I don't ever remember this happening before. No bills, no ads, no catalogs. What am I doing wrong? Is my mailman hiding mail in his garage so he can go drink during the day? Actually stuff like that used to happen in the old days, when so many mailmen were WWII vets that the government hired to give them employment. They were very lenient toward untoward behavior. After all, these guys fought for our country and if they had some faults, well, it could be overlooked. But no more. Every paper clip has to be in place for government jobs now. I ought to know, as a Supervisor I used to force employees out the door on a regular basis. Not for the post office. But in a tax-payer supported department. It wasn't fun, but that is the reality of the job market today. There is always someone ready to take your place.

Except in my blog, nobody wants this job. Friends and family can't understand the allure of regular writing, especially for an audience that averages one per day. I have to just write for me.

I do still pen-pal. Yes, sit down with pen and paper and write original letters to people in far-flung locations, stamp it, put it in a mail box, wait two weeks, a month or more for an answer. Then do it all over again. Some folks prefer not to use e-mail. And there is something material about holding the paper in your hand that came from afar. Foreign stamps on the envelope are fun too. But it all adds up to writing. Getting those words out of my head. And throwing them out there.

Let the letters speak about my life.

Condiment

My arm has one of those mustard-colored bruises on it, but no lasting damage. So far I haven't come down with any sci-fi diseases that lurk in places like cactus thorns.

I just realized that there is a warning on my keyboard. Danger! Risk of serious injury! With my luck, I am liable to go blogging one day and electrocute myself. I can just see the obituary: woman lives life of danger, dies from innocuous keyboard. Don't laugh. It has happened before. On second thought, go ahead and laugh.

Maybe this is a sign that I should write a holographic will. They are legal in Arizona. People need to know which of my heirs will get my stamp collection. Like really. They bother me all the time about things like that. A holographic will is just written in your own handwriting and signed. It doesn't even need to be witnessed. Seriously, being childless I doubt there will be any clamoring over my estate. Except for the poor executor who will have to sell everything. They will be moaning over the large accumulation of junk I have. They will clamor for mercy, or perhaps a freak fire.

Maybe it is not electrocution, but sci-fi diseases from the keyboard. It does harbor some sinister-looking fuzzy stuff between the keys. God knows what viruses or bacteria reside there. Where is my aerosol can of air to blow away these freakin things? Or is it worse to make them air-borne? Then I might breathe them in and get mustard-colored lungs too!