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Tom Coburn is a Big Fat Jerk


moonbat150


Home of the Barking Moonbat


 

Saturday, March 11, 2006

Gardening Journal, 2006, Day One

Well, I think I've gotten to the bottom of my funk. It's not simply that I spent a month sick or that my job is trying to Wal-Mart me (a situation I'm far from alone in --- virtually everybody I know here is being Wal-Marted).

It's that it's coming on the first year anniversary of my brother's death. And I am still far from resolved.

My phone bills this year have been humongous, as have the phone bills for most of my remaining relatives. We've developed a bizarre --- well, maybe not so bizarre --- need to stay in almost constant contact, lest one of us drop dead.

As for coming to any kind of emotional resolution about it, I'm finding it somewhat difficult. I simply can't believe he would be so idiotic not to take care of himself, especially given he had some fairly significant health issues. He had deadly allergies to eggs and had even been hospitalized several times in his life for going into anaphylactic shock. He definitely had some kind of auto-immune thing going on --- this had started some years ago, sometime in 1999-2000. But he wouldn't go to a doctor about it, even though we suspected he was developing lupus or rheumatoid arthritis or something.

He just wouldn't deal with it. And he was some kind of brainy guy, too.

The only reasonable explanation I've come up with is that he was in such complete denial about what was happening to him that he'd managed to convince himself it wasn't really happening, while simultaneously deciding sheer willpower could overcome

Not. Unfortunately.

So there it is.

On the flip side, I have actually started my gardening chores. I've torn off the remaining plastic from the greenhouse --- it had been ripped to shreds by the winds that devilled our area over the last year (thank goodness that's over with). I'm leaving the framework up and am building a raised bed with cinder blocks in the greenhouse a la Sister Scorpion style.

Mine aren't nearly as pretty, though. A hazard of rocky ground.

The frame will be used for bird netting and shadecloth and tying up plants.

I'll be building another one out back, too, but sans frame.

I haven't started seeds yet. Too busy carting cinder blocks around, as I will be for a few days. I got my income tax refund and promptly ordered a mess of them last night. They were delivered this morning --- !!!

Next step: emptying the composter into the bed out front and starting all over again.

The thyme has come back, the sage is starting up, the iris and pinks from my grandmother's gardens are taking off, I have fabulous Italian parsley going on its second year and it's just going crazy. Most everything survived the winter.

And it's been raining. Like mad. Looks like the drought's over. Woohoo!!!!

If I can just get over this funk and get my seeds started, looks like it's going to be a great gardening year.

Friday, March 10, 2006

Among other things ...

My blog got locked for a few days --- apparently reported as a spam blog. While it was locked, Blogger was featuring a genuine spam blog on its front page. ?

Well, whatever. I still hate my job and I'm still unable to write, but at least I got out of having to sit here and write for days on end over the next few weeks.

And because I'm on break, not having to write over the next few weeks means I can finally start seeds and get outside and get grimey.

I don't know at this point if I'm ahead of the game or behind, although I think I'm behind. But I'm a bit more organized this year. I've sterilized the seed flats and pots, and separated seeds into those which need to get a good freeze on them and those which are fine without it.

Whew.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

The Cherokee Freedmen ...

... are now Cherokee Nation tribal members.

This news is so far beyond huge. In these parts, it eclipses anything the idiot Chimperor and any of the usual suspects could even think of doing.

You see, the Freedmen are the descendants of slaves owned by Cherokees, as well descendents of original Dawes enrollees. And the requirement for enrollment in the Cherokee Nation is limited to direct descent from a Dawes enrollee --- yet the Freedmen were unceremoniously given the boot not only because they're Black (as are, in fact, most Cherokees, if you get right down to it) (or at least those Cherokees who have remained in the Cherokee Nation), but to ensure certain less than savory folk would be placed into office in the Cherokee Nation.

You see, the Freedmen would never have voted for most of the bozos who've served as chief in recent years. But their full voting rights have just been restored.

And there's a mess of them, too. Which means the entire power structure of the Cherokee Nation has just been tipped in an entirely new direction.

Which is absolutely the best thing that could have happened. Because, you see, the current elected officials care about themselves --- they care about their news jets and Mercedes Benzes and weekend trips to spas in New Mexico and dinners in Washington, D. C.

But they could give a shit about their own people.

David Cornsilk, one of the most brilliant guys I have ever had the honor of meeting in my life, is one of the primary movers and shakers on this. I always knew he would go down in history --- he's simply that brilliant and that ethical. And he just proved me right.

This is a very, very, very bright spot in an increasingly grim lamdscape. And it's the best news I've heard in a very long time.

testing testing testing ....


Tuesday, March 07, 2006

I still hate my job

But I'm becoming a little more --- um --- accepting of the fact that I hate my job. See, despite my wild eyed visions last week of tearing screaming off the job, I tallied my expenses and realized I can't quit my job unless I'm handed an even better job.

So good sense has overwhelmed the instinct to LIVE PLEASE I JUST WANT TO LIVE.

A more immediate problem is that I've managed to bamboozle myself into the especially uncomfortable position of having to do almost nothing but sit on my duff and write for weeks and weeks on end.

And not fun writing either.

Plus, if you read the post immediately preceding this one, you'll note that I quite clearly stated in there I'm now unable to write. So how the hell am I going to perform at top form in writing if I'm already so burnt out, I can't write worth a damn?

Plus, hello! It's spring! I'm supposed to be starting seeds and planting trees, not sitting on my fat ass writing stuff I don't even want to be writing.

Is this like some kind of evil convergence of the planets?