Observations on a few hours out, on a Sunday afternoon

I had run out of dry cat food on Saturday, but was sick all day so the cats just got their canned food. I started feeling well enough to go out today, Sunday afternoon. As I was waiting to turn back onto the main north-south drag from the little strip mall shopping area where my favorite little pet store, Sraps, is located I noticed a little old red VW bug. It's paint was in poor shape and the small yellow light of it's left turn indicator was blinking weakly. The driver was a man, maybe in his 30's, and in the passenger seat, trying to sit up high to peer out the window, was a little girl, maybe 6 or 7, wearing a tiara. As I turned south on Archibald I looked over to see the VW pull into a parking spot by the House of Pancakes. I made up a story for them. The little girls' parents are divorced and this is daddy's day with his little girl. He's showing her a good time and brought her a tiara to wear as they spent the day together. They're ending it with a meal out.

Scraps wasn't open, I guess it was later on Sunday than I thought, so I headed over to Petco. I would buy a small bag of the best that I could find there, to hold me over till I could get to Scraps. As I pulled into a parking spot near the store I noticed a man in the handicapped parking just across from me. Probably in his 60's, he was doing some final polishing on a piece of chrome near the front of his very large, shiny blue truck. He threw the paper napkin that he had used for polishing on the ground. As I walked by him I said, "You have a very clean truck." He said, "Oh, no, it's dirty right now." It was clear this truck was his pride and joy. I don't know how much cleaner it could get. "Well," I said, "we need to keep the Earth clean, too," as I picked up the tossed napkin and kept walking. As I got closer to the store and the trash can out front I heard him say something but it was unintelligible to me. Turning form the trash can and walking towards Petco's door I looked to see that he had begun polishing something on the other side of his truck. Maybe he'll throw that piece of trash down too, just to get back at that mouthy woman, me.

About being sick. I have what I call a gum tower at school. When I catch a student with gum I have them put it on top of the tower. After a little while I squish the tower down with the heel of my hand. The students notice its new configuration and ask me how I do that. And I tell them. Eww, is the common reaction. Germs, is what they think. I point out to them that I don't lick the heel of my hand and I don't rub my nose or eyes and I wash my hands before I eat. "When have I been sick this year?" I ask them. Never. So, good thing I got sick on Saturday. Not only good so that I don't ruin my perfect record at school but good because it's absolutely awful getting ready for a substitute and there is no way I could have taught the way I was feeling yesterday. I have recovered quickly though. Thank goodness. I was thinking if I had someone living with me they could go out and get me some Sprite or 7-Up. Not the only reason to live with someone of course, but one of the advantages. I'm still a little light headed and weak, but tomorrow I think I should be back to normal.

Boobs, or Mammary Glands on Parade

I caught a glimse of Beyonce this evening accepting a Grammy award. One of 6 or 7, I heard. And she had a glittery gown with big shoulders, short skirt, and plunging neckline. Last week were the Oscars. I saw pictures of some of the female stars with their gowns, and all that bulging flesh. I saw a picture of Jennifer Lopez in today's LA Times' style section wearing a gown that plunged below her navel. Wow. I have a proposal. If women are going to advertise their sexuality then men should be required to as well. I suggest tights, such as what male ballet dancers wear. They would be allowed to pump up their penises by any means available, such as push up supports, or cosmetic surgery. But women should be allowed to judge their equipment, real or fake, as easily as men can judge women's, real or fake.

What Does Haven Mean?

From NPR, Jan. 7, 2010. It is my emphasis with the words in bold:

Rep. John Tanner's family has farmed in Union City since before the Civil War.

We're driving down a winding country lane in a small West Tennessee town, not far from the Kentucky state line. It's called Walker Tanner road.

"That's my grandfather," Tanner says.

Tanner is a co-founder of the Blue Dog Coalition — the caucus of fiscally conservative House Democrats. It's been a home to the pro-gun, anti-abortion Democrats who have picked up seats in traditional Republican territory in recent elections.

We drive by the stable of Tennessee walking horses, between fields where the soybeans and corn have been harvested, and stop at a barn flanked by dog pens.

"This is where we keep the quail," Tanner says.

The dogs bark as the quail coo.

The quail stay in the barn until its time for the hunt. Then, they're loaded into crates and taken to a wooded field nearby.

"Then you open the thing and they fly out all over the place," Tanner says. "And then you put the dogs down and the dogs go and find them and point them, and you shoot them."

'Too Liberal And Too Conservative'

Sitting by the fireplace in Quail Haven, his family's rustic, wood-paneled hunting lodge, Tanner says the South is a tough place for incumbent Democrats now — even those of the Blue Dog breed.

Doesn't Tanner seen the irony of this? Or doesn't he know what the word Haven means. I told my friend Debby this story and she said, "What would he have called Auschwitz, the Jewish Spa?"