Lazarus has a buddy!

His name is Jai, and he lives here in town with his mama and papa, Christine and Omar, along with three horses, four dogs, eight or so turkeys, and miscellaneous transient critters. We are *so* happy to finally have someone to socialize with!

Jai is already practicing standing up:

He also likes stealing Lazarus' binky, though he freely offers it back:

And though he's a month and a half younger than Lazarus, Jai is a little dynamo -- he wore my little guy out:

One fine day

Our morning routine is pretty basic: we wake up, mama makes coffee, and mama and Lazarus hang out in the back room to watch Sesame Street, pull toys out of the toybox, and have breakfast. The other day, however, Lazarus decided to spice things up a bit....

Good morning, sunshine! Hiya -- hey, what's that dog doing out there?


Methinks I shall investigate... And while I'm at it, is that another binky I see under mama's chair?


What's up, mama? You look surprised about something...


Yes, my little guy is finally getting (a bit) mobile, after enduring many months of slings and arrows from meddling relatives who couldn't understand why he wasn't meeting or exceeding published baby activity standards. He doesn't exactly crawl; he kind of scooches around on a combination of thigh and knee and foot and elbow, but he has become an expert at pivoting. And he loves to roll back and forth -- something he mastered before he was three months old but didn't see the need for, apparently, till just now.

What's he been doing all this time, then? Working on his personality, that's what. And anyone who's met him knows that's been time very well spent....

Singin' in the rain

I'm hearing the most amazing thing outside my window right now... frogs! We had real rain today and I guess that was enough to bring them out. I have no idea what species I'm hearing -- it could be any one of the numerous types found here in Socorro County. Rooting around on the Web... let's see here... it could be one of these guys:



That would be the New Mexico Spadefoot (Spea multiplicata), the official state amphibian. I can't see them, of course, but they sound like this (you need WinAmp to hear, I think). I guess a real rain brings them out in abundance, which gives me another reason to hope for a good "monsoon" (i.e. rainy) season this summer. The sound of frogs makes me so happy... This is the first time in ages I've lived near frogs, and that must be a good sign.

Froggy goes ribbit...

Another rant (no pictures)

I need to rant tonight, but I'm going to displace -- put the energy toward something other than what irked me today. Also, this is a long-standing issue for me and I... well... just want to rant. I read yesterday some words from a woman who, though she hasn't had a child, has very strong opinions on childbirth and such. That, for example, infant formula is awful and evil, and no woman who cares about her baby should touch it. And that a woman should never "just decide" to have a caesarean section and deprive herself and her baby of a natural childbirth unless it's absolutely necessary, and most c-sections aren't necessary but women let themselves get talked into them because they're ill-informed and scared and brainwashed by the medical system. This from a woman who considers herself radical, seeking alternatives to the oppressive mainstream view of childbirth and motherhood. "I would never JUDGE any mother," she insists, but....

I have to admit that I harbored similar opinions once. Then I bore a child and had to face reality. I used to rant about never EVER touching evil formula and why on EARTH would any woman not want to breastfeed. When Lazarus hadn't gained back his birth weight within two weeks and screamed when trying to latch on and I was horribly sore and chapped, I "caved" and started supplementing with formula. He took the bottle like he'd been starving the whole 16 days he was alive, and both bottle and breast feedings suddenly became peaceful. But I felt like shit about it, and started supplementing later than I perhaps should have, because I'd absorbed all the negative judgment against bottle feeding. I felt (and still sometimes feel) almost embarrassed that I didn't "stick it out." Even though my son is clearly thriving physically, mentally and emotionally.

I also used to rant about birth interventions, so of course I ended up getting induced and having a c-section. I still sometimes wonder whether I had a "necessary" c-section -- again, all the negative judgment weighs on me and makes me doubt my own judgment, which at the time told me Lazarus was possibly in danger because his heart rate kept dropping, and the last thing I wanted to do was lose him. "Necessary" or not, it's the decision I made at the time, fully informed because I'd taken Bradley (natural childbirth) classes and read whatever I could get my hands on, and it sucks that I feel compelled to question it sometimes because a cadre of people want to harp on the issue, supposedly in the name of what's best for mamas and babes. It's bad enough that those of us not following "convention" get judged from the right wing -- I'm used to it and can dismiss them as the assholes they are. But to get judged, directly or not, for choices I've made by people with whom I share many values and aspirations, well, that really sucks, and is also kind of isolating. Motherhood can be difficult and isolating sometimes, and all the more so when women start turning on one another in the name of what's "best."

Time to think, plot mischief, and watch a sunset

I had lots of time to think and watch the world while driving up to and back from Denver, and I had to wonder why, if Texas is so damn great, half the cars I saw on I-25 throughout New Mexico and Colorado had Texas plates. Going somewhere, people?

I also thought about gardening. I've been doing it for quite a while now -- sometimes in containers on small apartment balconies, more recently in whole yards that let me get in way over my head -- and by the time we left California, I'd gotten pretty good at it. Now, in a very dry mountain setting, I'm struggling at best and realize that I have to learn new gardening skills. Take a (much) less water-intensive approach. Figure out not just how to keep stuff alive here but what will thrive with little water and lots of dry winds. My vegetable garden is surviving only because I water it every other day, sometimes more, but even with that much watering my "flower beds" in front have done almost nothing -- some seeds sprouted, then died off, and of the few plants I put in only a few herbs are hanging in there. So I did a Web search on xeriscaping -- low-water landscaping -- and actually found a site that makes me drool just as much as all those seed and flower catalogs I used to get every winter. It has a small resource library not to mention lots of colorful perennials that might actually do well up here. Here are a few I have my eye on:



By this time next year (patience, Anna) I might actually have something other than dust and rocks for a yard.

On the way home, somewhere between Wagon Mound and Watrous, I saw the most amazing sunset. Lots of torn, ragged clouds piled up over the Sangre de Cristo mountains, all stained with some shade of red or violet or orange, and then a hawk sailed right through the scene. The thing about sunsets here is they last forever, and change slowly but constantly, giving an hour or so of good viewing pleasure. If I hadn't been driving I'd have put my feet up, cracked open a beer, and declared that it doesn't get any better than this. Knowing that, in fact, it always does.

It ain't easy being green, if you're a garden in New Mexico

We just got back from Denver and, let me tell you, it's green there. Leafy flowery long-grass livin'-is-easy green... but it's sunny here, as well as peaceful and family-drama-free, and a few things in my garden are finally maybe doing better than half-dead. The corn suddenly is stalky rather than grassy, and the peppers seem solid if a bit short. The cucumber plant is doing fairly well -- growing slowly, but a bit flea-bitten; the beans just aren't thriving, though, nor are the squash. And the tomatoes just don't seem to want to make the effort... we'll see. I added some cottonseed meal for a small nitrogen boost and will probably add more mulch tomorrow. I don't think I'll be getting a bumper crop of anything this year, not even weeds 'cuz it's too dry for them, even.

Lazarus definitely enjoyed the park in Denver, especially the swing:



and so did Lucy:



Today I put Lazarus in his swing here at home -- had to clean up the logs and bark around it first -- and it broke up what was becoming a long, cranky afternoon. He was happy the rest of the day, probably because of the sunshine and breeze and the silly dog leaping around below him. Lucy's still too rough to play with Lazarus, but he cracks up watching her run around and be goofy. I have some puppy training books now and hope to calm this adorable little beast down a bit...

Five for fun: Planes, trains, and automobiles

1. What's your favorite method of travel? Why?
Definitely car -- I love love love road trips... although maybe if I had a luxurious sleeper car, I could get into the train thing, too, for really long trips. The things I love best about going by car are that I can leave on my own schedule, I can pack as much as will fit in the car, and I can stop wherever and whenever I want. And I can listen to my music as loud as I want, without the scream of the plane's engines in my ears, and no one bangs on the back of my seat or lowers their head into my lap while I'm eating dinner. And now I have a road-trip buddy -- Lazarus seems to do really well in the car, and, fingers crossed, we'll go on many trips together.

2. What's the longest road trip you've ever taken? Where?
Philadelphia to Albuquerque, New Mexico, in June 1993, over five days with two friends, three cats, and a carload of stuff I was moving out west with me. We stayed in Motel 6's the first three nights -- Roanoke, Virginia, Nashville, Tennessee, and Little Rock, Arkansas -- and in another little motel I can't remember the name of in Shamrock, Texas. The motel in Roanoke was scary -- both the front door and the bathroom door had putty and small wood braces to repair what clearly looked like doors kicked in and broken down. Did someone get stalked and murdered there? Did someone fall down and die in the bathtub and no one figured it out till the bill went unpaid and the other guests complained of a smell? We packed up and left very, very early the next morning. I had gotten my driver's license about a month before (at the tender age of 27) and did okay till we hit Nashville, then my friends (Agatha and Rosanne) tactfully took over. The final day, the car conked out going up the hill into New Mexico, and we barely managed to make it to a campground to rest and call someone, and I had my usual (at the time) mild panic attack because things weren't going smoothly and my three cats were getting restless after five days in the car. (The car just had vapor lock and we did finally make it to Albuquerque, and the apartment complex I had rented in unseen had a lovely pool where we relaxed the evening away.)

3. How many plane trips have you taken in your life?
Hmmmm... maybe 12 or so, probably more business (back in my "real" employment days) than leisure. Shortest: Denver to Albuquerque, during a powerful August storm that tossed the 25-seat plane around like a beach ball; longest: Los Angeles to Ireland (via Britain), which I don't recommend for restless or claustrophobic travelers.

4. What method of travel do you fear so much or intensely dislike that you avoid it? Why?
Air travel... because I hate airports and all the people and feel claustrophobic in airplanes. I love the view and the speed, but it's almost not worth all the rest of the rigamarole. Especially now -- I've always had a bag or two searched, for some reason, but now the security check involves getting Lazarus' stroller and car seat taken completely apart, having to get wanded and take my shoes off, emptying out my laptop bag and having to explain why I'm carrying all these wires and other implements... And I always have this sense that at one of the many checkpoints through the maze leading to my way-too-small seat, something is going to hang and -- boom. Anna has a meltdown (see #5 below).

5. Describe the worst travel experience you've ever had.
Los Angeles to Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, for a mission trip in 1997. The plane got into Santo Domingo around 3:00 in the morning, and we had to stand in line for what seemed like hours to show our passports, go through security, and pay to get into the country. There was some confusion as to where our group was supposed to go, so we kept getting herded here, then there, and I had two very heavy bags to carry and hadn't slept in 24 hours. I don't do well on little or no sleep, and I don't do well in crowded, chaotic situations, so of course I had a complete meltdown -- crying, dry heaves, hyperventilation... it was ridiculous. We ended up having an amazing time there, though (tarantulas and rats and airplane-sized mosquitoes notwithstanding.)

Lazarus' birthday pictures (finally)!

Here are some pictures from Lazarus' birthday -- sorry for the delay. I just finished a really big job that had me tearing my hair out at times because... well... I had to sit at my desk and work on it every day (and into the night, actually) for two weeks, right after finishing an edit with a tight schedule. I know, my life is so rough.

Anyhoo:

Is this all I get???


Taking the direct approach:


You're actually letting me use my hands?


It's kinda squooshy -- anyone got a spoon?

Spiders and centipedes and scorpions, oh my!

With a new habitat come new critters. I've seen (and heard) many different kinds of birds, rabbits, a coyote, antelope, elk, deer, lizards, and, most recently, some of these:



Lucky me -- some people pay good money for them; I get them running in my back door, right onto the carpet Lazarus and I (used to) sit on to relax and play. The dog wants to play with them but they run too fast.

"Scorpions are nocturnal, predatory animals that feed on a variety of insects, spiders, centipedes, and other scorpions. The larger scorpions occasionally feed on vertebrates, such as smaller lizards, snakes, and mice. Prey are located primarily by sensing vibrations. The pedipalps have an array of fine sensory hairs called trichobothria that sense air-borne vibrations; the tips of the legs have small organs that detect vibrations in the ground."

That explains why the little suckers race into the back room every time I open the sliding door after dark.

"The average scorpion probably lives three to five years, but some species undoubtedly live at least 10-15 years."

I guess that means the one that darted into the laundry room last night is there to stay. Wonderful.

"Despite their bad reputation, only one species in the U.S. and about 20 others worldwide have venom potent enough to be considered dangerous to humans. The US species, Centruroides exilicauda (formerly called C. sculpturatus), is found over much of Arizona. A small population occurs in extreme southeastern California, and a few records exist for southern Utah. The venom of this scorpion may produce severe pain and swelling at the site of the sting, numbness, frothing at the mouth, difficulties in breathing (including respiratory paralysis), muscle twitching, and convulsions. Death is rare, especially in more recent times. An antivenom is available for severe cases."

They didn't mention New Mexico. Then again, most of the US population thinks New Mexico is Arizona, or in Arizona.

"Scorpions are difficult to control with insecticides alone. Therefore, the first control strategy is to modify the area surrounding a house. Remove all trash, logs, boards, stones, bricks and other objects from around the home...."

I guess I know what I'll be doing tomorrow during my work breaks. During daylight. With gloves on. Shoes, too. Sheesh. But if that doesn't work, well, lucky for me, the wonders of e-commerce will bring a solution right to my doorstep.

I can take (small, shy) spiders, and lizards, and even snakes. But these suckers creep me out.

Oh, mama, can we keep her???

Antonio found a great present for Lazarus -- she needed a home and Laz needed a buddy, so here she is:

Happy first birthday, Lazarus!!!!

Several months before I became pregnant with Lazarus, I had the first in a long series of dreams in which I found hidden spare rooms in our house. In most of the dreams, I felt satisfied with the house as it was but then experienced a strange, almost fearful exultation when I discovered a whole new addition, or attic, or guesthouse that I just hadn't noticed before. In some cases the rooms were in need of some repair, but only because of benign neglect over time, and I could see the great possibilities the new space afforded us.

This dream recurred many times, often several nights in a row, well into my pregnancy. Now I think I know what they meant. Having Lazarus has, in a way, opened up an entirely new "chamber" of my heart, one I had no idea could possibly exist. I've loved and been loved in my life, but never like this. Call it instinctual, hormonal, just another mother gushing over her babe, whatever you want, I still think it's amazing. Thank you, Lazarus, for bringing this to me, and happy birthday.

Adjusting (again), and remembering things past

Okay, I'm not so mad at the world anymore. I'm feeling more at home here in Magdalena -- my mom helped me clear all the boxes out of the back room so we have a comfortable living space (and so Antonio can watch movies at 2 a.m. back there without waking me up and pissing me off), and I've gotten some garden space planted, and I finally have my satellite Internet so I can browse the Web at leisure instead of over long-distance dial-up at 7 cents a minute. Word to the wise: when you move out to the middle of nowhere, you can still get (fairly) high-speed Internet, but it might take a while because the provider knows you have no other options.

It helps that I'm getting outside more. In Denver I was practically a hermit, both because it was winter (real winter, which I kind of forgot how to deal with and hadn't missed at all the seven years I was in California) and because I was too depressed to do much of anything. I had a pretty basic routine there: get up with Lazarus, make coffee, drink two big cups with Coffeemate fat-free hazelnut creamer and eat a bowl of cereal, surf the Web and answer email while Laz watched Sesame Street, go downstairs and give Laz his breakfast and greet grampa, watch the second half of JAG and then The Practice with him, and finally look at the clock and think, well, if I don't get a shower before 1:00 I might as well not bother. I had work now and then, and I had errands to run now and then, and once in a while I'd just take Laz out for a drive, but I had to make a real effort to get out of the house instead of retreating back upstairs with Lazarus after lunch. I kept making plans to take Lazarus to the zoo, to museums, to parks, but I just couldn't manage to follow through.

I still have to make an effort to get out of the house -- I always have -- but now it's my home again, and I have plenty here to keep me happy. This evening I planted most of my veggie seedlings, and watered the tiny flower seedlings just starting to come up in front. Lazarus has been sick the past few days, which makes me sad because I miss my sunny little buddy, but I'm hoping he'll be better soon... by his birthday, maybe, which is Tuesday. My little guy is almost a year old -- one year ago today I was lying on the bed wondering how many more weeks I could stand being huge and achey and immobile and fog-brained and throwing up every damn morning. Two days later, I held this creature in my arms:



This has been, far and away, the best year of my life. So far.

Rant (no pictures)

This was published today. Not May 1, 1953 but May 1, 2003. Today, in the great U.S. of A., and it's not a nostalgic look back at our storied history but a current events news report. A taste:

"...Juniors are in charge of planning the prom each year and last year they decided to have just one dance — the first integrated prom in 31 years in the rural Georgia county 150 miles south of Atlanta.

"Until then, parents and students organized separate proms for whites and blacks after school officials stopped sponsoring dances, in part because they wanted to avoid problems arising from interracial dating.

"This year, a small number of white juniors decided they wanted a separate prom...."

Holy crap. I shouldn't be reading this stuff (I snagged the link from jhames, who snagged it from some other enlightened soul) -- I'm mad enough at the world as it is.

Rubber ducky (/fish/frog/turtle), you're the one, you make tubby time so much fun...

First, let me apologize for not updating my weblog. See, I don't have high-speed Internet out here in the sticks, and instead of signing up for YET another ISP and email address I'm just hanging with my AT&T service... which means I have to dial long-distance into Albuquerque every time I want to connect. Absurd and highly impractical, I know, but I thought I'd have the satellite Internet service by now. Of course, I haven't yet received the check from my last gig, which was going to cover it, so everything works out in a way. Except that I'm Net-deprived, and my mom is Lazarus-deprived... guess I'll make that phone call today.

Speaking of Lazarus, here he is in all his bathing glory:


fish heads, fish heads, roly poly fish heads...

... eat 'em up -- BLECCHHHHH


what's this stuff and why can't I grab it and jam it in my mouth to chomp on it?


the amazing frog boy:


I'll put up more pix later; I took some over the weekend during our trip to Denver -- we took the scenic route, which was by far the best part of the trip, and Lazarus was, as always, a pleasant roadtrip companion. Denver looks a lot better now in the spring than it did when I arrived late last November, when it was grey and cold and the trees were bare. I remember driving in from Grand Junction (where Laz and I stayed for a week or so after leaving California), and thinking Oh shit, what the hell did I do??? I pulled the car up to the back of the house from the alley and had to sit there and cry for a few minutes. The place just looked cold, grey, grubby and completely foreign, my gardens and comfort far behind me. Spring definitely spruces the town up, but I'm still happy to have left Denver for the not-quite-as-green expanse of southwestern New Mexico. Driving back down here yesterday, I felt increasingly happy the closer we got to home, and when I emerged from the Glorieta Pass and saw the Magdalena Mountains way in the distance, my heart leapt. And coming up the hill towards those mountains, night upon us, I thrilled to see the stars all around me, Orion straight ahead as if beckoning me home.

And home I am, puttering around and winding my way through towers of boxes and trying to figure out where to put anything, let alone everything. It's a good thing we have a store so we can start unloading all this stuff... The seeds I planted a few weeks ago have sprouted, and now my windowsills are filled with leggy green plants straining towards the sun. I think I can plant them now, but I'll wait to see if we get any more frost over the next few nights before putting them out.

I'm da king of bongo, baby

Lazarus joined in on the drum circle tonight, and it was pretty amazing to watch this little guy figure out that when he hits the drum, it makes a cool noise just like Papa's does.

Here's my Saturday Six (borrowed and modified from the divine a.):

1. How many houses/apartments have you lived in throughout your life?

twenty-two -- no, I'm not kidding. I lived in my childhood home from age 3 months to 17 years, and it's been move move move ever since -- more than half my life now. I'm restless, the landlord jacks up the rent, my neighbors get noisy, I get restless again.... And my cat Georgia has been with me for the last 15 moves, poor faithful kitty. But I think we're home now. She already has several choice window seats (old adobe houses have nice deep window sills).

2. where did you stay the longest? the shortest?

-longest: childhood home, for 17 years
-shortest: with a temporary host family in Brussels, Belgium, for two weeks while the AFS coordinator hooked me up with another host family (the first one was nuts)

3. Which was your favorite and why?

1) childhood home -- small house at the edge of the woods with huge trees all around filled with birds and chattering squirrels, beautiful yard that my mom landscaped, hundreds of daffodils every spring, loft looking out on the woods that mom and dad built, funky small hippie-ish town, total freedom to run and bike and be a kid.
2) Whittier house -- because it was ours and once we renovated it, it was beautiful and sunny. I loved creating the gardens out of nothing, and I could hear the birds in the morning as I awoke. But it had a bad stress vibe that took about six months to dissipate.
3) present home -- we just got here, so it isn't "ours" yet, but I'm excited to start gardening again, painting and tiling and putting up curtains, feeding the birds, ...
this one may well move to #2 soon, especially since it has a very good feeling to it already. Dunno about it ever replacing #1, though -- that's a tough act to follow.

4. Do you find moving house more exciting or stressful? Why?

stressful because I've done it way too often, and not always because I wanted to but because I had to -- money, bad neighbors, lease up, etc. I hope I've made my last move for a long while -- more than two and a half years, at least. I do enjoy unpacking and setting up house, though, so once all the stress is over, at least I get a bit of a treat. Putting up curtains -- no, window treatments -- is definitely my favorite settling-in activity, along with watching the cat nose around and figure out the sunny spots for each part of the day.

5. What's more important, location or price?

they kind of go together, but if I have to choose: location, but not for the usual reasons. I'd rather live out here in the middle of a beautiful nowhere in a house that needs TLC than in the middle of the action in a swanky city neighborhood or tony suburb, because that's who I am (i.e. weird). I want freedom, not material luxury. Not that I could afford the latter anyway, so go with the flow, right? :-D

6. What features does your dream house have (pool, spa bath, big yard, etc.)?

-very quiet location, with a wide variety of birds around
-lots of sunlight coming through big windows with amazing views of hills and valleys
-a quiet, spacious, bright room away from the main house where I can relax, create, be on my own
-a sauna and an outdoor whirlpool
-a gravel path directly from the my bedroom deck to the stable

oh my bags are packed, I'm ready to go...

One. More. Day. Antonio left this morning in the U-Haul and should have clear weather and roads for the long drive. I worry a bit about that Raton Pass (crossing from Colorado to New Mexico), but I think the storm has moved east, and the pass will certainly be clear and dry by the time I hit it tomorrow afternoon.

I finished my big job yesterday afternoon -- more or less on time (sent last chapter after biz hours, but I think I was close enough), and ready to get back to other pursuits. Like, now, packing up clothes and fabric and baby stuff... It's nice to have a day off after a week of hard work, though, even if I can't just loaf in front of the TV all day... not that I'd want to. Urrgghh. Dubya is apparently "frustrated" with the media because they're starting to question the battle plan and progress. This war, he insists, will last "however long it takes." Vietnam took, what, a decade or so? Of course, Johnson and Nixon and their respective crews were a bunch of tutu-wearing wusses compared to Dubya and his posse, who apparently have taken steps to ensure the true horror and bloodshed of this war doesn't sully our privileged living rooms the way Vietnam coverage did. Keep it clean, keep those cameras pointed up at the big pretty bombs bursting in air, keep those correspondents excited about all our techno-power and the inevitability of a sanitary victory.

Okay, no TV for me today -- just packing. Lazarus is currently taking a break from everything, even grabbing at the cat (this is getting humorous because Georgia is starting to shed with the warmer weather, and Laz looks puzzled when he ends up with a handful of cat hair and no cat):



Oh, I updated my page, finally -- got up some links to more cool mama weblogs (these women rock, they really do) and other important stuff. I have to admit that I hesitated when publishing the new template because these are some radical links, and I'm nervous about getting on some CIA/FBI/NSA Watch List or something since I so recklessly and disrespectfully question our government's antics. All the more reason to hit that "Publish" button, right?

Almost time to go...

I've been searching for a reason
to either fight or fly
Either way, patriot or treason,
it's gonna be one long hard ride
-Melissa Etheridge

We've loaded up a 17-foot U-Haul with most of our possessions, and Antonio will drive it to Magdalena tonight or tomorrow morning. I'll take Lazarus and Georgia (the cat) Saturday in my car, along with my computer and sewing machine. And I'll be taking enough diapers, baby food, and cat food and litter to last us a good long while 'cuz I might not be coming back any time soon, or at all.


Are we at least taking the TV, mama? I don't wanna miss Sesame Street.

Another rant (I have so much material these days...)

Well said, Beastie Boys: http://www.beastieboys.com/song_lyrics.html (thanks to May mama buddy cosmicmama for the link). A sample:

"They're layin' on the syrup thick
We ain't waffles we ain't havin' it"

Conjures up images of Dubya and Asscraft and Rummyface sitting around a table poised over platesful of flat beige citizens, ready to stab in with their forks. But while we get syrup, others get bombs: The US admits it bombed a residential area of Baghdad, but insists, ‘‘Any casualty that occurs, any death that occurs, is a direct result of Saddam Hussein's policies." Oh. I thought bombs killed people. Guess I'm too simple to understand Dubyalogic.

Meanwhile, here at "home" (but not for much longer, thank God), family dramas are sprouting up all around us like tulips in May. Who laid down all this fertilizer??? I'm just going to keep my head down and focus on my work (big job; on schedule for once) and my various other projects. Like making more patchwork fabric for the Arden Baby summer overalls line -- so far I just have two:

This, too, is someone's child

Baghdad, 19 Dec. 2002:



(from http://www.nationalphilistine.com/baghdad/index2.html)

I don't know what else to say, so I hope this fellow blogger doesn't mind me linking directly to his amazingly eloquent view of current events. A taste: "Watch a country being bombed into dust over your morning coffee and afternoon snacks.... Think nothing of what has taken place except another necessary step to protect our elitism. Feel better knowing that blood has been shed for no other reason that to flex a national muscle. Kill, cleanse, repeat."

What I'm doing right now: working (well, not), listening to Laz clank his bells and blocks together, and half-watching Sesame Street with him. Right now, kids are talking about their favorite toys -- a bunny, a dinosaur, a doll... Hey, kids, let's ask Dubya and his pals what their favorite toys are!

Dubya: My favorite toy is my brother's ballot box set because it makes lots of noise and I can take all the paper out of it and rip it into shreds!

Asscraft: Um, my favorite toy is, um, the Bill of Rights. I like tearing things up, too. It's fun to throw the itty bitty pieces up in the air and watch them fall.

OverTheRidge: I like playing with my dad's duct tape, but I like my posterboard best because it has lots of pretty colors on it and people get scared when I point to the red and orange sections.

Rummyface: I have so many toys I don't know which one is my favorite... well, maybe my G.I. Joe action figures, cuz they have big feet and can stomp all over those sissy dolls my dumb sister plays with. I also like my toy gun, except it won't shoot real bullets.

Dang it. No more TV for me today.

Springtime for Dubya in the oil fields

Lazarus was 10 months old yesterday; I took him to see his grampa Chuck at the hospital, who isn't feeling so well but was really, really happy to see his lil' buddy. Today is the first day of spring, and all that snow is indeed melting, slowly. And we leave for Magdalena in a week (just to visit... probably), which gives my heart a thrill every time I think about it.

I'm hanging on to this mundane stuff because the antics of Dubya and his gang are really getting me down today. I've tried in the past few days to be a good citizen and inform myself by watching the news, but I just can't stomach the live views of Baghdad getting bombed or the hostile, arrogant news conferences with Don Rummyface or John Asscraft or Tom Over-the-Ridge. These people have some frickin' nerve to talk about evil empires and rogues and reckless disregard for the people's will. Rumsfeld said, in a speech on 4 March to current and former members of Congress, that "reasonable people, given the same set of facts, tend to find their way to reasonably similar conclusions." Unless he's suggesting that he and the Dubya Gang aren't reasonable people, he has dismissed all the dissenting people and nations of the world as "unreasonable" and, therefore, not worth considering.

I do want to make one thing clear: I hate this war and feel betrayed by the hooligans staging it, but I support and pray for the US and other troops who got sent into the middle of this conflict. God be with them, and peace also.