Archive for June, 2015

I realize that there are upset people out there:  people who differ from me on interpretations of the U.S. Constitution, scripture, oh, any number of things.  Some of these people are saying they will resist, some say they will divest from and boycott companies owned, invented, etc. by gay folks and their allies.

Ok, those are social tools that are open to everyone.  Well, depending on whether there are other providers for those goods and services, you can afford them, and if you can find a way to get by without those things.

So that got me thinking — if they are serious about setting themselves apart (as opposed to “divorcing, setting themselves on fire, or moving to Canada”), are we looking at the birth of a new sort of Anabaptist movement?  Whole communities of people who opt out of cellphones and computer networks (which, come to think of it, puts them decades behind some of the existing Amish communities), dozens of brands of coffee, clothing, computers….?  Will they really do that?

What if they do?

Perhaps they’ll build little towns on the campuses of their megachurches. Maybe they’ll develop distinctive architecture and crafts, and whatever other art forms are sustainable in atmospheres of chastity and constraint (but not those kinds of restraints!). If they are insistent on having a separate economy, so they can deny emoployment to certain people, or certain benefits to others, perhaps we should let them try.

For years I’ve heard their advocacy, their odd simultaneous demands that Jesus told them not to be “of the world” but that also the world should nonetheless conform to their ideas of Godliness.

They re-make the error of early Believers who expected the Kingdom they had been told about would come via military victories and other triumphs.


See what you can build without us.  We’ll check in a few decades from now to see if your baked goods are worth a visit….

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But not all at the same time…


Not pictured: Me

…despite what it sometimes felt like.  Fortunately, it did all sound more harmonious than this looks!

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Please hold

% Insufficient coffee error in line 100

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Special guest bee


I just fished today’s special guest out of an old casserole dish that has served as a plant saucer since its lid was damaged beyond repair. We’ve been getting an awful lot of rain recently, and this poor critter was swimming for all she was worth…

After preening for a minute or two and buzz-testing her wings, she was up, up, and away into the fresh summer air.

I may not have mead for this Midsomer Night, but there will be a little bit more sweetness for baby bees…

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Die sock!  Die die die die die!

I shall take this sock and sacrifice it from the highest peak, that you should know the world is MINE….

Actually, Ember is quite good at climbing, and leaping, and now is also reasonably expert in driving our 14 yr old cat crazy.  But there are times when her motor skills or understanding of the world are juuuuuuust shy of what she would like them to be, and you can see the frustration flare in her body language.  The whites of her eyes are suddenly visible, her back arches one way and her head twists in a rival direction….back and forth. She pauses, then picks up speed.  Stops abruptly and makes a sharp cough-spitting sound — “HKkkkh-Kh!” — drops to the floor from wherever she’s climbed, and bolts away.

The currently trendy term “adulting” seems best applied to all those activities which are NOT flailing, spitting, and running in response to stressful situations.  It’s not that we don’t want to do those feral things, but that we have enough experience to look down the road and see that the consequences don’t get us any closer to resolving those stressors.

Would that more people could get out of their own ids long enough to ‘adult’.  Lives would be saved.  Dignity spared. Progress could be made.

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As I drove, I could see the anvil clouds and lightning flashes off to the south of my route.  For most of my trip, I kept hoping that the rains would stay down that way, since my path was pretty much due west, and maybe I’d get out of this ridiculous flytrap truck before I had to rely on the windshield wipers again. [It is not so much that the wiperblades were bad, as it was that I’d got sufficient bugs splattered on the windshield as to make lots of translucent smears when the wipers were in operation…]

StormlightSunsetESDusk and farmland.  Stripey clouds in changing colors.

Ominous signs that this or that 260 acres were available for “development”. The thunk and rattle of the now-empty truck box. Are they called truck boxes?  It’s the box part of the truck… Cargo area?

Drive, drive, chase the fading light all the way home….

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Carrying on


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My keyboard is ‘mine’ momentarily, because the Kitten has decided that pushing a prosecco cork in and out from under a bookshelf is the Most Wonderful Game [not to be confused with “The Most Dangerous Game“, the heavy-handed short story so many of us had to slog through in high school].

Having finished the concerts and gotten the family back to their home, I get to focus on administrative issues [well, and parts of the lawn, and parts of our house, and humoring the Elder Cats].

How you arrived cannot be how you go...

How you arrived cannot be how you go…

The patent date on the metal strapping is 1887; the shipping label on the side says this trunk was sent to New York City in 1894.  The building to which it was sent is still standing, although I doubt the current owners have any connection to my family.

On the other hand, maybe it wouldn’t be a total surprise if there was a family connection and no one had bothered to talk about it or maintain that connection in the last 100 years.  These things do happen…

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That dismount still needs work, my darling….

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