An Elf in Harrisburg

Went out early this morning to let the dogs have a good hard run in the snow. It is the delight of Zahira's life to be chased, so I took a toy along so Cairo could chase her. She knows that as fast as she is, she doesn't have a prayer of staying ahead of Cairo when they're both running wide open, so she always heads for "shelter": trees, rough country, the backstops of baseball fields, picnic tables, anything that allows her to dodge, dance, and weave. She'd be a handy little cow-horse. And Cairo when he does catch her, doesn't even roll her or take her toy. He merely "tags" her flank, whereupon she either shrieks in terror or snarls in hatred, depending on how surprised or angry she is that she got caught. Never drops her toy, though.

So I always try to find wide open spaces where, for exercise, they will run straight and true and stretch out. Don't want them making cutting horse turns for an hour. Of course, then Zahira will use me as her structure, and as I walk along she'll make loops around me to foil Cairo's hot pursuit, circling ever closer and tighter around me as Cairo gains on her.

Today we were in a big open area so they got a lot of flat out running. At the end of the field there was a small grove of trees. Zahira headed for it, racing across the field. By the time she got there Cairo was galloping hard, ranging up right alongside her. She shot into the trees and it was like the Lord of the Rings scene where the black riders are chasing Arwen and almost catch her until she dives into the trees zigging and zagging, her horse doing flying lead changes right and left, spraying dirt, jumping logs, and she escapes! As Cairo bore down on her and I saw Zahira head for the trees like a streak of lightning I couldn't resist calling out, "Noro lim, Asfaloth, noro lim!"

The demise of the bookstore

I went today to the liquidation sale at my local Borders bookstore. Even the liquidation prices were higher than those on amazon.com, but I bought a few books anyway, in final tribute to the hours of enjoyment this and many other bookstores have given me over the years. I miss the joys of browsing in a bookstore . Yes, you can find these books on-line now, and yes, I buy books online or download them to my smartphone. But how do you know which books you want? The glory of a good bookstore is browsing the shelves. You might be looking for a particular book on the Civil War, and end up with Freeman's biography of Robert E. Lee, or a book by Joshua Chamberlain, or Founding Mothers, or The Book of Common Prayer, or Temple Grandin's Animals in Translation. Goodbye, brick and mortar bookstores. You will be missed.

How to Break Up with Your Boyfriend

"But if I tell you that the lightest touch of your hand makes my blood cold with antipathy; that from the hour when I first saw and hated you, to now, when my instinctive repugnance is enhanced by every minute's knowledge of you I have since had, you have been a loathsome creature to me which has not its like on earth." - Edith Dombey in Dombey and Son, Charles Dickens

Zahira and the Fireflies

(Sounds like a childrens' book title...)

Lots of fireflies outside tonight. Zahira's never seen them before. They must be destroyed! She runs around the yard snapping them out of the air. Fireflies obviously don't taste very good, because her lips are curling in disgust when she snaps them up. In the gloaming she ends up with quite the Hound of the Baskervilles effect, with a glowing mouthful of teeth.

And to dust we shall return

A co-worker was killed in a car accident one week ago tonight. She was unmarried and was a wonderful, happy, fun-loving person. (Coincidence? I think not).

Services were tonight: the only "funeral" being her wake followed by a prayer service.

We all crowded into a long, narrow room. For some reason the only chairs were along each of the long walls, facing to the center of the room, so almost everybody simply stood in the center of the room, those in the back seeing only the people standing in front of them. Her family, a sister, brother, elderly mother, and a niece, sat at the front of the room in that odd line of chairs against the wall.

Margaret in her coffin was alone in the room behind that, apparently having to eavesdrop on her own funeral.

The service begins:

"Good evening. I am Father.....

.......

.......

.....Michael......

..............

......[last name].

Margaret must have not belonged to a church and the family, from out of town, apparently requested a priest and were assigned Father Michael S-.

Father Michael explained that he DID know his own name, but that he had a......

..................

.......speech........

.......impediment......

and that it was going to be a long night.

He said that he felt sorry for Margaret's family, being from a different state and knowing no one here, and being assigned this priest with a speech impediment. He'd apologized to them and Margaret's sister told him it was all right, that Margaret had a sense of humor and would have laughed about it.

I was appalled that this lovely woman's funeral was going to be spoken by this severely impeded priest who never even knew her and tears sprang to my eyes. It was crushing.

"If God be for us, who can be....

.......................................

.......................................

......................................

against us."

It was like he was waiting for us to complete his sentences.

"He who believes in.......in.......... ...............

................

ME. ME! Say ME, for the love of God!

"And God so loved his only begotten.......

...........

...........

And then this fountain of joy sprang up inside me as I could see Margaret laughing, saying "SON." SON. Say "SON" right NOW. Say it. SAY. IT.

It was wonderful and humorous. To his credit, Father Michael had done his job well with the family - he had learned a lot about Margaret, even correctly remembering the names of all her beloved dogs (she was involved with rescue with the humane society). Once he started reciting the liturgy, his words came more smoothly and it was a nice prayer service. I thought that for humor value alone, if I WAS going to have a wake, I'd pick this guy.

Sileo in pacis, Margaret.

You are missed.

I thought this was illegal

"Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer"

Rackety got out this evening. I came outside a little later to find placed on my doorstep the head, and only the head, of a tiny baby bunny.

I knew she didn't like that new cat food, but that's no reason to go all Godfather on me.

Later on I caught her ordering this:

I Knew This Day Would Come

My phone beeps this morning. It's a message from Chad.

I click it open and it's a photograph of Emily holding an adorable young beagle. The caption is " I dont want to die :-( "

I figure Chad means the beagle because as far as Emily's concerned, she can take care of herself and I'd be more likely to get a photo of Chad begging for mercy. Anyhow, the beagle (and Emily) is adorable and although I COULD have typed back "Well, we all have to go sometime" what I did reply with was "put him in the truck and I'll see you this weekend."

So. Say hello to A2187.

And don't ask me what happened to A's 1 through 2186. My heart can't take it.

Heavy Metal in Baghdad

In my not-humble-at-all opinion very few bands calling themselves heavy metal should. Even most of the ones that are HM ring into these old ears with the sounds of manufactured angst & nihilism, the Sturm und Drang of pretend metal, and have none of the poetry, beauty, and awesomeness (in the true meaning of "awesome") of the real deal.

These guys are win:
http://heavymetalinbaghdad.com/

Overview article at:
http://edition.cnn.com/2008/SHOWBIZ/Movies/03/17/metal.baghdad/index.html?iref=intlOnlyonCNN

They even have the utter self-centeredness requirement. Quote: "Nobody could live under the same circumstances that an Iraqi could live in," says bassist Firas. "You have to deal with death and fear every day," adds singer Faisal."

Nobody? I definitely admit I probably wouldn't survive in their environment, but unlike others who have, I don't think I would've survived as a WWII French resistance fighter, nor would I have made it through a concentration camp, the Bataan death march, a European soccer tournament (hooligans or boredom - a toss-up as to which would kill me first), the Salem witch hunts (most definitely the end of the road for me) or life in China, Palestine, Cambodia, or Bangladesh in any time period.

When I find an article on a heavy metal band from Darfur, I'll post their thoughts on survival.

Meanwhile, hats off to Acrassicauda, and somebody please send them t-shirts so they don't have to embarrass themselves by wearing Metallica any longer.

Tchaikovsky

You just can't beat that 1812 Overture.

This is what happens to you when you hear it.

First of all, it starts with Russian church music, and NOBODY does church music like the Russkies. Nobody.

I can feel the dark church with the glow from the iconostasis. I smell the incense, I see the robes of cloth of gold. There are the small, stooped, strong women in their babushkas. Where are they now? Do they wear those babushkas in heaven? Are their hands not so arthritically knotted there?

The scene shifts to the wide outdoors. When the horns start I can see the arched necks of the army horses and hear the jangle as they mouth their bits and that wonderful solid sound of horses' hooves hitting earth. There are the triumphant horns of the army, but La Marseillaise tells me that it's the FRENCH army!

The musical scene moves on. The little peasant dance music making you feel your deep love for your land. Those few bars make me see the land as clearly as Tolstoy makes me see it.

And then, ha! winter is upon those damned French. The violins perfectly portray the swirling snow, the bitter, brittle cold, the long black nights full of ice-chip stars and too-small fires. The long, starving march home. How the hell can violins be swirling snow on dark nights? Who invented the violin anyway? Why aren't there 50-foot statues of this person all over the world?

Next is heard Russian cannon kicking Napoleonic ass and when those violins come tumbling down like water over a cliff, like the tumbling of a defeated, broken enemy, and the church bells tumble, too, but in joy, and the music and your spirit, foe vanquished, climbs back UP....and La Marseillaise is replaced by the Russian national anthem...well!

Oh, yeah, and cannons. How great is that? Church bells, cannons, and swirling snow violins. Can't beat it.

I love people with a passion

I'm on a listserve where an off-topic conversation resulted in my favorite post of 2008:

"My PhD was in plant parasitology.

Specifically, in the sex pheromones of the two nematode parasites of potato plants, ...This is a lot less interesting than it sounds"

No, bless your heart. It isn't.

Anne Among the Office Workers

"Often I wondered whether I had not come upon a sort of fungoid people, with just enough mind to give them motion and the expressions of anger and greed."

- Lilith, George MacDonald, 1895

If my house was clean I'd kill myself

I think I know why you find these houses filled to the rafters with junk piled everywhere. It keeps people alive!

99% of the time I'm happy as can be, but on those very dark days when I think this just isn't worth it, I look around at my little house, piles of crap everywhere and think, "I can't die like this; I never cleaned that bedroom." And on those nights when I have heavy chest pains and I think "Oh, man, I'm just not going to get up, who the hell cares anyway?" I say to myself, omg, this place is such a mess, no one wants to see this, so I get up, go to the cabinet, put that aspirin under my tongue and live to see another day.

It's great having a system that works; I like it.

Thank you, my personal Help Desk

I'm sure you feel this way when you talk computers with me:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQHX-SjgQvQ&feature=related
Bonus: it's in Norwegian!

Because I feel like it

Images are from www.engrish.com

and I didn't even pick the best ones.

Thanks, John Denver!

Yesterday morning I saw a bald eagle along the Swatara Creek. The photos are not the eagle I saw, but I searched the web until I found two photos that duplicated my eagle experience and here they are.













I was a teenager when John Denver sang: "I know he'd be a poorer man if he never saw an eagle fly," and I always thought he was right.

He WAS right.

Hershey's, the Great American Cocaine Bar

I got very happy today when someone I work with, whose husband works for Hershey, told me about this:

http://blogs.menupages.com/philadelphia/2007/11/crack_cocaine_mints_might_just.html

It amused me so much I sent the link to our Director of Marketing, who then forwarded it to his newest hire, and then told me what I hadn't known: that we just hired the new guy from Hershey where - oh frabjous day! - he worked on this very project.

So of course I run over to his office laughing maniacally and he says, no, see, crack comes in ORANGE bags....

Yes, it was a happy day.

And btw, Hershey IceBreakers also come in orange.


Oops, my bad. Cocaine. It's this one:


No, wait, that's heroin. THIS one:

People (including me) like to complain that our young 'uns spend too much time on meaningless computer activity, and wax poetic about what people do without computers and television. Stuff like this:



Not to say this isn't bitchin', but I'll take BioShock, thank you very much.

Although I really like the hat.

I am Stan

You know, I learned something today.

If you're a white person, don't ever give anything like this:

to African-American employees. As it's pulled out of the gift bag, before one can properly see what it is, the tension in the room rises appreciably.

An American Werewolf in Harrisburg

Took Fenris for a walk tonight, and as we came around that short dark crosstreet by the woods I noticed a black car parked there.

Since there are no houses on that little street and no light down there, that was certainly an unusual thing.

Normally I give solitary cars on solitary lightless roads a wide berth but I didn't walk all that far away from this one (which is really stupid and you must never do this).

Fenris turned to look at it and I idly wondered if perhaps there were a couple of lovers inside. Although the car was black the interior was light-colored and there didn't seem to be anyone visible. Of course I have the visual acuity of a rhinoceros (as well as the general body shape, but that's another matter). Anyway, looked empty to me but as I was passing the car Fenris quickly went over to it, reared up and bopped the driver's window hard with both front feet in that motion used by polar bears to break through the ice. Since the car was rather small and Fenris is rather tall that's a good analogy. I immediately pulled him back and kept walking; I didn't say a word and had I quicker reflexes he never would've reached the car.

That ignition fired up so fast and that little black car took off. I think it took the corner on two wheels. I hummed Bad Moon Rising all the way home.