The Mouse War of '10

It's not a fantasy of mine. After four yesterday, and after cleaning out cupboards all day long ( with admittedly more to go), this little feller showed up in my kitchen when I went out for a snack. My shoes mind you, my SHOES!
 The battle continues. There are peanut butter laden traps all around the kitchen now. I watched this one for a long long time as he skirted the edges looking for a way to climb from the floor to the counter before he explored my shoes and decided to take a nap on the edge of the heel of my shoe. I nudged him with a yardstick which really didn't seem to bother him. He actually stood up on hind legs and took hold of the yardstick with his front legs- checking it out. A couple more nudges and he stepped down and onto the trap. I would guess he is in astral travel now heading for that big dry food cupboard in the sky.
  The war tally now is about $60 ---> Mice     5 mice--->Berry. There is a bill before Congress now to increase war funding. Additional troops and supplies due in tomorrow.

Of Mice and Men:

I saw this little blip of light flit across my fireplace. At first I thought it a reflection of light from my giant living room windows, but it happened again in a flash and this time it disappeared into a brick air vent. the thought passed. Later at WalMart's I accidentally stopped while looking for something else, and found myself right in front of mousetraps.
   A woosy about harming living things, I realize there are some we can not safely co-exist with. I picked up a package of traps, new plastic ones, camehome and set one in front of the fireplace and the other in my spice cupboard. ( Yeah, awful thought isn't it? But I had found a box with little shreds of paper around it and was suspicious anyway) Before I finished showering to go out to dinner, I caught one. It was alive to my horror. I know my rabies shots are up to date, but I didn't want to risk getting bitten. Luckily a friend called and suggested I put it in a jar. Only it's front legs were caught and broken. I couldn't stand the thought of it suffocating nor throwing it out in the snow so I put nail holes in the cover. I swear it had a frightened" Help me" look on its face. "Click". What was that? I checked the cupboard and there was another. Really dead. So into the jar it went. On a double check the wounded one was now dead too.
     Funny how one's feelings can change so fast. "Hmmm...",I thought to myself, with Cinderella images flashing through my mind along with images of Ernest Borgnine in Rats, this could go on for a spell. How am I doing to deal with this." I left them both in the jar with an extra hard twist on the cover and went to dinner.  When I came home, there was another in the cupboard trap. I dispatched him to the jar, a touch more easily this time.  It has been 18 hours now and no more caught. But I have that lingering horror that they must still be out there and they're not making me a pretty dress.

  I can't bear to use poison. Its just anaethema to me. Has anybody else out there dealth with this? Surely those of you in the country have had to.  Ms Moon, surely your house is not air tight. I'm not about to adopt  cat again..ever in my life. It took all my strength not to adopt an abandoned puppy last week. Guess I just keep waiting.

Writer Mark LaFlamme freezes for global warming

I know Mark and follow his column and writings. He is a bit of a daredevil, but at the very least a risk taker and a lot of fun around these parts.

clipped from www.youtube.com

Joy @Babble On turned me on to this:

You're The Poisonwood Bible!

by Barbara Kingsolver

Deeply rooted in a religious background, you have since become both
isolated and schizophrenic. You were naively sure that your actions would help people,
but of course they were resistant to your message and ultimately disaster ensued. Since
you can see so many sides of the same issue, you are both wise beyond your years and
tied to worthless perspectives. If you were a type of waffle, it would be
Belgian.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
I'll be damned if I knew how they got it from those questions, and I'll be damned if I don't have to agree with the results. 



You're Romeo and Juliet!

by William Shakespeare

While people think of you as the most romantic person alive,
you may actually be more prone to offer practical warnings of what happens when
people follow their feelings too severely. You do believe that love has the power
to conquer the sharpest divides, no matter the cost. It's just not entirely clear
whether that cost is worth it. People spend a great deal of time referencing the
things you've said or even singing about you. Nevertheless, they are most likely
to describe you as "star-crossed".


Take the Book Quiz II
at the Blue Pyramid.

Dacre Stoker,

The great grandson of Bram Stoker who published the original Dracula in 1897, has published a sequel to Gramp's book called Dracula the Un-dead which his grandfather initially wanted to title his. No question that Dacre over a century later can get away with a lot more gore than Grandpappy. He keeps a lot of the old Stoker traditions in there, the riderless carriage, the ability to use multiple forms, the superhuman strength and sticks to the turn of the century, but doesn't seem to add to the newly created mythology of our age. I must give credit that he co-authored with Ian Holt. copyright 2009. So far it's about saving the survivors of Dracula's shenanigans.

There will be no Christianity today:

As you know Maine is inundated with snow during a three day storm. As I wait for rescue, I am watching the no services and church activity cancellations on the bottom of my screen. I haven't seen a church repeated for hours and hours now. I haven't seen one temple or mosque closing...not that they didn't, but I just didn't see them as the denominations flew by on the screen.

Love-definition by 4-8yr olds(shared email)

> Love - the kid's definition
>
>
> What Love means to a 4-8 year old . . .
> Slow down for three minutes to read this.  It is so worth it. Touching
> words
> from the mouth of babes.
>
> A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to
> 8 year-olds, 'What does love mean?'
>
> The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have
> imagined. See what you think:
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint
> her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time,
> even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love.'
>
> Rebecca- age 8
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You
> just know that your name is safe in their mouth.'
>
> Billy - age 4
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne

> and they go out and smell each other.'
>
> Karl - age 5
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French
> fries
> without making them give you any of theirs..'
>
> Chrissy - age 6
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'Love is what makes you smile when you're tired.'
>
> Terri - age 4
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip
> before
> giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.'
>
> Danny - age 7
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of
> kissing,
> you
> still want to be together and you talk more.
> My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss'
>
> Emily - age 8
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening
> presents and listen.'
>
> Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend
> who
> you
> hate,'
>
> Nikka - age 6
> (we need a few million more Nikka's on this planet)
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it
> everyday.'
>
> Noelle - age 7
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still
> friends
> even after they know each other so well.'
>
> Tommy - age 6
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked
> at
> all
> the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.
>
> He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore.'
>
> Cindy - age 8
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'My mommy loves me more than anybody
> You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.'
>
> Clare - age 6
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.'
>
> Elaine-age 5
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is
> handsomer than Robert Redford.'
>
> Chris - age 7
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone

> all day.'
>
> Mary Ann - age 4
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old
> clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.'
>
> Lauren - age 4
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little
> stars
> come
> out of you.' (what an image)
>
> Karen - age 7
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think
> it's gross..'
>
> Mark - age 6
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> 'You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you
> mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget.'
>
> Jessica - age 8
>
> ________________________________
>
>
> And the final one -- Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked
> about a contest he was asked to judge.
>
> The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.
>
> The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an
> elderly
> gentleman who had recently lost his wife.
>
> Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's
> yard,
> climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.
>
> When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy
> said,
>
> 'Nothing, I just helped him cry'

Direction in consciousness..

2012 is much touted as the apocalypse but Dan Brown as well as many others tell us the origin of the word is about the end of the old and the beginning of the new. Brown tells us in his fiction and his legitimate research, that a new idea is coming , that the ancient knowledge will be revealed.
 I've been thinking.It has long been my belief that sin is not about morality at all but things like missing the point though we keep aiming for the truth; it's about learned behaviors and responses to life passed on generation after generation, about misunderstanding as we "learn" fear. Sin is simply "Missing the Mark" which is the title of a book I read many years ago. In a simplistic church, one might say that God's favored angel was not really cast out as much as he(it) felt separateness from God ( or all things). As I read Dan Brown's latest novel, "The Lost Symbol" some concepts were gelilng in my mind that for centuries we have moved toward a unity in hopes of returning to a sense of unity and belonging. 

I wonder if we are moving into an age where we begin to move away from what that need to resolve separateness has produced...a society built on hierarchies, authorities, social attitudes, those who are "in" and those who are pariahs etc. We may be moving toward keeping the lessons of that era(organizing ideas) and now moving toward diversity as the natural divine creative process ( the expanding universe)and recognizing that though God may have taken on human form to show us the way...it is a sign of our own godliness that each of us is godlike and are only taking on temporary human form as well.  That God concept is not a singular entity but made up of all our consciousnesses collectively. Maybe in 2012 we may  read all the ancient texts and find emphasis on different phrases than we have heretofore de emphasized because our goal was a return to singularity. Our previous pursuits have all been aimed, whether we like  to admit it or not has been in the quest for survival through the quest for powerl.
  We live in an expanding universe...yet we pursue the garden of Eden. Maybe that's going to turn around.

Magic of Christmas 09

My friends treated me to the 30th annual Portland Symphony Orchestra Christmas show at beautiful Merrill Auditorium at the stately City Hall  here in Maine. In this photo it is impossible to fathom the stage- something like 3 stories high containing the 7th largest pipe organ in the world ( Kotschmar) which we all enjoy in the public singing of carols. Huge sound you can feel in your feet.
  We had most of the traditional features including the Sleigh ride where the orchestra hams it up with hats, sound effects, and good laughs santas, a "reader's digest" version of Christmas Carol featuring Joseph Cassidy( Jean valJean, Les Miserables; Freddy in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels- on Broadway) and the incredible Figures of Speech Puppets- giant puppets 8-20 ft high.

 

Of course there were some old songs I dreaded but was determined to sit out for the better pieces. We got an early intermission when the fire alarm went off and we were all evacuated out onto the sub zero temperature street. the entire first floor has only two exits. I was reminded of all the years as a school teacher telling the kids to walk quickly and quietly and NO TALKING. but I managed to keep my mouth shut. That set us back 40 minutes but the audience was all the more cheerful once back inside. Usherettes were wrapped in silver metallic blankets and claim they really work.  There were lots of good lines "If you don't have your tickets you have to pay again"

"You all know where your seats are"

"Second time around all seats are first come first served. No elbowing please."

and to my chagrin we opened again with "Chet's Nuts Roasting on an Open Fire." I dont' know where they got the dancers but they were simply terrible. The lead male dancer was an enormous overweight kid, very effeminate to say the least  whose leaps were downright embarrassing. They doubled as stagehands rolling Scrooge's door and bed on and off stage. Lots of their dancing was posing in vignettes and all rather pointless.  The choreographer had a handful of gestures that involved much waving of the arms. The chorus ( 148 voices) was rather impressive once they got over their initial phrase and got their balls on.

   All in all it was a very special night cherished in all it's good and bad by we locals. I am very grateful for my gift from Rick and Maureen, who also started us off with a fantastic homemade Chicken Pot Pie, salad, and delightful Xmas candies, cookies, and wine( laughingly served as the best of the boxed) before we took the trip down to Portland. I must say Portland Symphony Orchestra always produces the best of music and is as competent as any I've heard. And we all agree we love our new maaestro, young handsome and personable Robert Moody. He's very very good so I wonder how long we'll have him.

 I love you, Rick and Maureen. Thanks again.

Reducing X-mas

Reading Ms Moon's blog  hasme both thinking and laughing over an eccentric aunt with bizarre decorating taste. At about my age now, my grandparents squeaking by on a policeman's pension of the 1950s continually complained about Christmas. As I grew older their trees got smaller- they were only for me anyway. In 6th grade I came to their beloved cold water flat and saw their final concessions to Christmas. It was a ceramic tree on top of the old 12" Emerson B&W console Picture-Rahdio, best of it's kind in those days. I never saw a show on it really because my hard of hearing grandfather kept shouting " What the hell is that shit about anyway. Can you make any sense out it? I can't make any sense out the goddamned thing." I patiently shouted the plot to him but got lost myself as the story progressed while I was explaining it to him. The response always wound up the same " You like that shit? It's stupid.  They're goddamned fools. Shut it off." They weren't stories to Gramps, they were real and anybody who thought like that oughter be shot.
  

Behind Gramps was a table with a beautiful old Tiffany lamp. I always wondered what happened to that. On  that table was a neat pile of opened Christmas cards and beside that was a box of fresh cards and a roll of stamps.  They never read the cards ( unless one was from me) or the notes in them.  When the mailman came Nana fetched it faithfully. Nana did everything faithfully. Grampa would yell out "ANOTHER GODDAMNED CARD? WHO'S IT FROM? I DON'T CARE NOTHIN' ABOUT THEM. WHAT THE HELL DID THEY SEND A CARD FOR?  WELL EMMA, GET OUT A CARD SIGN MY NAME AND SEND IT TO THEM.
 Emma dutifully got out a card addressed it and asked "Do you want to send them a note dear?"
"NO, FUCK EM. JUST SEND IT." Now Nana and I knew he was pleased as punch to hear from whomever it was. And now you know.

   It pretty much baffled me that presents didn't wait until Christmas morning either. They were torn open as soon as they came and piled, wrappings and all, on the table until they could figure out who to pass them on to.  Grampa had no use for clothes and sweaters as he still wore remnants of his uniform and the same button up sweaters he'd had for years. If they were cigars he smoked them. If it was another "fucking box of ribbon candy" it came to me until  the day he found out I was gay and banned all sweets from the house to make me straight again. If they were embroidered hankies for Grandma, they were folded neatly and never seen again. Too good to use, dontcha know?

   You'd never know to hear it from me, but that old couple were loved all over the state. He was a notary public and justice of the peace and married all the poor people in town. He prided himself on keeping records on how many of 'em stuck because he hitched them. For three months out of the year he did income taxes for two bucks and grandmother played gracious hostess in the middle room in her giant full bodied apron with all the doodads in her big pockets while people sat hour after hour for their turn. She knew all the gossip in town.  Yep, and as I told you once before, all my homework was notarized because I got to play with all his official stamps and seals by the hour.
  Toward the end, all the little bulb inserts in the ceramic tree had been lost and just the inside light shone through the holes. But as long as "Bud" was coming home, it went back out on the tv if only for a day.
  My gawd, look at me. I'm all choked up! Funny what you remember isn't it?

So I watched them sleep:

Oh well now I don't think I could sleep with anyone. It's hard enough by myself. But I have read and seen so much about little ones smothered to death by their parent(s) that it makes me wonder. I wonder if others of you can remember as little ones sleeping with adults?



  My mother and I had to sleep together a lot when I was little, because in the old days people only had one guest room in the farmhouse with a big double bed or a pull out couch with a huge bar poking at the middle of your back. I hated it. A small woman, she was still bigger than me, and I spent the night holding on to the side of the bed to keep from rolling into her. She didn't particularly like my clinging. But I remember that cold room and the ticking of the alarm clock long into the night. I used to slip out of bed and stare out the window at the blinking light in the small town square. and welcomed the rare sound of a car passing in the night. I could hear it and waited for the headlights to come into view on the highway- all the way through to the arrival of the car and long after it passed in the night.-recalling the image.( tail lights on a car are still my favorite shade of red) And I watched  and listened to her sleep.  I waited forever for her to get up in the morning so we could go downstairs where life was only slightly more interesting. ( children are to be seen and not heard).

Later when I belonged to a bigger family, I shared a bed with two brothers. who wet the bed well into their early teens, and that was a smelly bummer. So I watched them sleep. Heavier then them, I held on the side of the bed so I wouldn't slide into them.

For long time as a child, I had a small bed beside my grandparents. Gram used to take me up every night to say my "now I lay me down to sleep"s and listen to my long list of "and God bless...". In the morning I was allowed to crawl into bed between them where I could smell my grandfather's  aging Mennons shaving lotion and the denture breath of both of them. But they were comfy and fat and warm. And I didn't roll anywhere because both sides were balanced with their massive weight. I got a very nice second  and dreamless sleep out of that. Nobody had to wake me from my noisy nightmares.
  In preteens, an assortment of sailors, uncles etc stayed overnight woith my gregarious family when I had my own bed. Once again, I was always clinging to the edge of my side of the bed, holding on so I won't roll into them. I was pretty aware by then that such an accident was very desirable but knew enough that it would be more than the hand of God that would rebuff me. I knew what was taboo and began my struggle with why is it that what I desire is taboo, and what others desired seemed to be okay because what they desired was not me...and that is what's right in the eyes of God. So I watched them sleep.
   In Scouting I learned a little more about manipulating whom to share a tent with, or whom to befriend camping out. I learned that counselors loved a willing boy to sleep beside on the cold ground but knowing the taboo I stayed awake both wishing something would happen and dreading it. It was after all taboo, but cuddling for warmth was acceptable. I lay awake all night for the slightest touch of affection and trembling over whether it was real or imagined. ( as an aside...Scouting for years has been the best breeding ground for homosexuality  bar even the sacristy of the Roman Catholic Church in organized society). At any rate, I was awake and alert, all night.

   Comes real relationships as an adult. The worst sleep I ever had was with lovers. I swear I was always the more horny of us in every situation. Talk about holding on the to the edge of the bed. I never slept...always waiting for the opportunity of pleasure again. My biggest growing up lesson in life was when my constant lover asked that we sleep in separate beds and eventually  different rooms.My lover never meant to hurt me and approached this subject with the most delicate of care. It was a long time before I could admit, I was getting a good night's sleep and enormous freedom of movement in the deal. Not to mention learning not to keep track of the other person, leaving a light on, or leaving the tv on as long as I wanted...or even....well never mind....Yes you guessed it...crackers in bed.
  In me old age, I find I used most of the bed during the night. Now one good turn doesn't get most of the blankets, it gets most of the cold air...where did they all go? I certainly never smothered sleeping with another as a tot, a child, a young man, or a teen....I've sure slept with a lot of people for a lot of reasons.but I can assure you, after all my observations, I would never take a job watching someone sleep in a lab. I've had my share of sleepless nights.
 On the other hand...nothing could be as dark as---

In the meantime, I like to imagine I can still do this:

A most unusual day...in every way...like SUNSHINE...wtf?

It was pouring flooding rain...the crik below swelled from 2 ft to 14 or more.( It's okay, it's 30 ft drop from my house). for the first time in 26 years here I saw white caps in it. I was scheduled to switch services and the T/W cable guy showed up on time. I now have T/W cable, digital phone, and Roadrunner- all of which are a sizeable upgrade. I started to investigate but wound up glued to the local arts program you may already know and have been back to my beloved classical music vids all day. What an incredible improvement over the old Adelphia I had years ago.
   Then the sun came out....suddenly like an epiphany. I rushed outside and started on more Xmas lights while the weather was so good. Just a T-shirt in December in Maine. It's looking a lot better than the picts I posted last night. a trip to the store and back confirmed that. No treadmill for the old ticker today- I was so out of breath, panting and paining...I knew I got what I needed.
  Then inside to watch a movie I thought I wasn't going to watch: Bruno. What a disturbing movie...at least while I watched it. I actually ran it again before I could handle what he was doing. I mean he has Andy Kaufman beat all to hell. Actually it was quite courageous. I see now why my students like Bruno. The specials including the deleted scenes were actually better than what he did in the movie.I'm quite glad, on reflection, that I got over my preconceived notions about the film

"Flamboyantly gay Austrian television reporter Bruno (Sacha Baron Cohen) stirs up trouble with unsuspecting guests and large crowds through brutally frank interviews and painfully hilarious public displays of homosexuality. An incredible chameleon who completely disappears behind his flaming alter ego, the bold Baron Cohen serves up nonstop laughs in this comedy by successfully rubbing people the wrong way." - Netflix

  If he was shocking, so were the very real people he interviewed. One minister "There must be a place for Black people because in the Noahmic passages, He gathered two of every kind".

  He goes for the most dangerous confrontations imaginable...like  trhing to convert from homoseuxal to straight...how he puts these people on. At a gun show he speaks of guns metaphorically"if you could shoot your load all over somebody's face, would you do it?" It took the gun show me a while before they drew the parallel and shut him off. And he took it to the limit!

   I dunno what I feel at the end of this experience.  He is one ballsy sunuvabitch.

Every great advance in natural knowledge has involved the absolute rejection of authority.
  - Thomas H. Huxley