Some things are much more important than others,  and whether it’s the urgency of a project in process or the immediacy of turf defense, Lucy the cat and I have our priorities.Dinner tonight --BIG ADMIRER  freshly caught.jpg

Sometimes one has no conscionable choice but to be a scoff-law.

Lucy has her priorities and they take precedence over all conventions of the household.
Chasing Varmints


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Nothing to Hide?

What do you think?  A relative of mine sent me the above little soft rap selection.  I watched it, and listened to the words (which I could understand) and also to the message (which I could also understand.)

My relative is somewhat of a Libertarian…I am not.  But whether we are of either extreme or the middle, we may very soon have something to hide, simply to save our necks!

How unreal was it historically when someone raided the house where Anne Frank and her family were hiding like trapped bunnies? It happened, and it happened in my lifetime.  People were truly heroic to try to hide so-called “enemies of the chosen race”, because not only would Nazi power find their hidden friends, but they would be thrown onto the same wagons and carted off to places they would not return from.

This really happened.  How did the land of happy hausfraus and joyful beergardens and Father Christmas and all that become a land fraught with fear and the smoke of incinerators disposing of millions of dead bodies?  It was political.  It was a mind game.  It was a gradual power play that poisoned people’s minds and then scared them into clustering into the safest group possible to save their lives. It required a blind eye.  It required a nation of blind eyes.

Most of the people saluting the Nazis were people with blind eyes simply to save their own souls from the concentration camps.  They had better salute religiously, especially if they were not endowed with blue eyes and fair skin.  Dark haired regular Germans were especially avid about those salutes, I reckon.

There are not a lot of people on a list in my house.  I don’t have a campaign going on anything really.  I have a house full of people with differing opinions,  but we don’t defend them with vitriol or guns.  In this house there are both pro and con about a lot of issues.

But we love the truth.  All of us do love the truth, and fear the power of blind-eyedness.

I have this creepy feeling that I am being set-up…like a “pigeon-drop scheme“, where a con-man (or woman) befriends me and tells me how things are going to improve.  In the process, this clever person gets to know me very well…my fears, my interests, my address book, and my vulnerabilities.  They find out what I value most. Then they tell me to trust them with some of it. Then you know how the pigeon-drop scheme works.  Like a perverse “Sting.”

What the Nazis found was that people valued the souls of people and the lives of family more than anything. More even than freedom. Enough so that a LOT of hiding was going on in Germany.  Blondes with blue eyes and pale skins hiding brunettes with dark eyes and olive skins.  Words kept inaudible.  Identification papers were forged, or destroyed.  Paper trails were a deadly thing. For a while people simply went away in carts and never came back.  Gradually the truth came out.  Unbelieveable truth.  And people hid their eyes and let it continue.  It was only for “others”, this decimation machine.  They hid within the cloud of safety saluting the power people, to save their souls.

Are we afraid of such a thing happening to us here, now?   We are not afraid.  We, after all, are AMERICANS!  Proud, lucky, cocky, spirited citizens of this Free Country where we stand on the Constitution of the United States of America.

Look at what we stand on.  We are standing on an ideal that is eroding out from under us.  We are in a house build on sandy soil.

And there are termites in the posts and beams.

And we don’t want to see them.  We have our outer-images down pat, and are buoyed up with the attitude and lingo of free people, with rights, and privileges, and good lives.  We have nothing to hide.

But we are happily blind to what is happening to our country right out loud, in plain sight, in broad daylight.

People curse the truth rather quickly when it tears a hole in the underground activity.  We are so blind we don’t know a traitor from a hero.  The blind people are all running around looking for something to believe– for which speaker to trust.  Chaos is what happens when principles are broken down.

WE have nothing to hide. But THEY have something to hide.  The truth is coming out.  Let it!

We had better believe it and get busy.  It’s getting too late quickly.

Old Swimmer

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Isn’t worshiping a ideologic symbol, like a book, or a firearm, badly missing the mark?

I have long been puzzled that humans seem to become much more attached to relics, or symbols, or talismans of their ideology than to the ideaology itself.

Here is a story today that prompted my post:  A schoolboy was suspended from school because he chewed a sandwich into the shape of a pistol.  !!  Okay, no guns in school, but really… a bit of playing with food,  some sculptural inclinations, and cleverness are grounds for being kicked out??

But this is not the part of the story that got my post-begetting reaction.  The part about the NRA reward was what astonished me.

Talk about lobbying!   The huge NRA is making a hero of a little boy because he “found” a shape of a gun in the canvas of his sandwich.
It immediately made me think of the spectacularism surrounding the image of a saint appearing in a used napkin, or on the stained side of a building.  Or a cloud.  Or a shape on the sand.

The fame and fortune to be gained by celebrating such happenstances is sometimes worldwide publicity and adulation.  Somehow the principalities and powers who feel “blessed” by these events want to make really big publicity of it all, and hopefully a bit of money– no a lot of money– and some validation of their cause, and hopefully a devoted following of more groupies to their cause.

It is not so different, is it, from the worship of religious shrines where phenomena appear, and in the name of glorifying a deity, pilgrimages are made,  fasting and praying are dedicated,  beasts are slain,  and even in some brutal cultures humans sacrificed.
For the passionate attachment of a body of people to an inanimate object that stands for some idea.

So, it looks to me as if the NRA worships guns.  They even worship a gun made of bread!  They even glorify that yeasty weapon enough to thumb their noses at a boy’s schooltime poor judgment that got him suspended, and make a hero out of this kid. It is not that the kid was exercising his second amendment rights!  He was just playing with a sandwich, and seeking to impress others at his table.  Maybe he was championing a cause his father or mother are passionate about.  But he was just a little guy playing little guy stuff.

I am embarrassed to admit that some of my fellow believers in Christ actually worship the book they take to church with them each Sunday.  It is a relic that stands for what they are members of.  But do they really think that it is a god?  It’s a paper reproduction of written material sourced from God.  It’s not The Word.  It’s the issue of The Word.  This can become an idol just as a golden calf can or a plastic statue, or a special place where a miracle occurred.

I never believed that our creator intended for us to worship the creation, whether it is the magnificent world we live in, or a kid’s lunch.  One cannot really believe it is possible to insult a book!  It is not any skin off God’s nose if you insult a book.  HE is the Source!

Do gun worshippers think it’s more important to protect guns than it is to protect lives?

We are totally missing the mark when we start thinking that the killing question is moot, but the gun question is vital.  Will we kill in order to protect guns?  I say, insult the gun!  It will make not one whit of difference to the gun.

Something very wrong here, and we are dying of it.   Men were not designed to ask inanimate objects how to glorify them.
We are asking dead things for guidance.  What kind of living person does that?  How long does he ask?  Will he kill someone for taking away his object of reverence?  Something very wrong with all of this.

Old Swimmer

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The Adults are Infiltrating! Oh no!

The scuttlebutt from C-net this morning says that teens are beginning to get weary of Facebook…that it is getting too complicated and fraught with too much visibility for them to chatter comfortably.

I think this is so funny.  Here’s a salient paragraph: SOURCE:

For tweens and teens, Instagram — and, more recently, SnapChat, an app for sending photos and videos that appear and then disappear — is the opposite of Facebook: simple, seemingly secret, and fun. Around schools, kids treat these apps like pot, enjoyed in low-lit corners, and all for the undeniable pleasure and temporary fulfillment of feeling cool. Facebook, meanwhile, with its Harvard dormroom roots, now finds itself scrambling to keep up with the tastes of the youngest trendsetters — even as it has a foothold on millions of them since it now owns Instagram.

Teens have always lurked in corners with clandestine activities, and the “getting away with it” is more of the excitement than the it drugs, sex, or exhibitionism.  I’m old enough to remember sneaking up to “the balcony” in the local movie theater where teens could get away with “making out” .  The activities done up in the balcony in those days were kissing, and a bit of petting.  You could put your arm around your girlfriend, or kiss your boyfriend without it being spotted by someone’s parents.

I personally remember carrying a pair of high heels and a lipstick in a brown bag while ostensibly walking to school.  I walked instead to the little railroad station,  donned my high heels and lipstick in the restroom, and took the train into Philadelphia where I wowwed everyone there with my glamour. drawing OF TEEN No one knew, I believed.  Hm.  If a neighbor saw me on the train and told my parents, my parents were wise enough not to mention it..but would have certainly mentioned it, if it had been done repeatedly.  I blush to think of it.

But, here I am,  a Facebook lurker (I only allow close friends), and my grown children’s entries are one of the delights of my life.  I have grandchildren on Facebook, but I only link with one of them…he is approaching “middle age.”  So..not exactly a teen.

I’m glad!  Just as I am happy to eat in a sit-down restaurant where the floors don’t throb and people with sixteen pierced places on their faces don’t serve me hamburgers,  I am sort of relieved that the teens are taking their trash-talk and quasi-porn selves to some other venue.  I am sick of seeing faces of sweet little kids with their tongues hanging out and rude hand gestures.  Let them do it behind the barn,  or in SnapChat, which I didn’t click on, by the way.  I have no idea what’s in that link in the quote above.

I do think that Zuckerberg is hedging his bets very smartly.  He is buying a teen nightclub sort of place where all that adolescent behavior can be enjoyed away from the main house.

I love teens.  God help them.    Old Swimmer

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Invest in Milk Carton Toilets! A recycling stroke of genius..

Just in:  a solution for all those milk jugs (and hopefully playmobile and lego) in the landfill.
Print them into chemical toilets and rainwater catchers for third world countries.  Heck, do it for OUR country too!  We can use these things and we can happily lose all that un-biodegradable stuff we have stuffed into our landfills and dumps. 

Read the article.  This is America at its best.  If you have any disposable money, buy stock now, even if it’s just a small stock.  This is a facebook sized idea that will not be a “fad” that wobbles after a decade or two.  This is a keeper.

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The Fragility of the Good Life

Here is a quote from my AWAD (A Word A Day) feed this morning:

“The skylines lit up at dead of night, the air-conditioning systems cooling empty hotels in the desert and artificial light in the middle of the day all have something both demented and admirable about them. The mindless luxury of a rich civilization, and yet of a civilization perhaps as scared to see the lights go out as was the hunter in his primitive night.” -Jean Baudrillard, sociologist and philosopher (1929-2007) 

I am guilty of being somewhat of a Jeremiah (which was the word of the day today), in that I have been frightened about the fragility of the internet.  While I have been worrying about this for some time, my closest community has sort of rolled eyes and chalked it up to my being a worry-wart, as they say.

But now the headlines are talking about the very real threat of cyber warfare.  I was not really crying wolf, it seems.

This does not make me cheerful (as in “I was right…see?”)  but rather really really worried now.  The Information Age hangs on such a corruptible thread!  We have been joyfully reveling in the ability to communicate freely and often and somewhat “securely” with anyone in the world at any time we want for a decade or more now.  The old fashioned means of interaction have nearly become obsolete by virtue of inactivity.  When was the last time I wrote a handwritten note and sent it by USPS?  Well, even so, the USPS is using computerized systems to sort and route mail, and if those failed, even an express-mail letter would have a very difficult time getting from my place to, say, some place in the middle of New Mexico, or Taipei.

How easy is it to disrupt a whole hunk of country simply by weather damage to power stations and transmission towers?  In my part of the country we still have outages that can last for days and days, simply by virtue of a wind, or ice storm.

Batteries only last a little while.  The gas pump works by computer.  So does the checkout station at the gas station and at the supermarket.  Our phones are dependent on systems that are computerized, and radio and TV stations are too.

So do we remember how to wash clothes without washing machines?  Do we even have clothes pins to hang up the clothes after we are finished using the washboard?  Can we cook over a fire anymore?  Do we have fuel for such things?  When we run out, are there alternative fuels we might use?  On our property?

Would we be able to function without banks dispensing money to us on demand?

I am seeing a frozen world, in my imagination, here in Seattle WA, with nothing moving but anxious and panicky people…moving desperately around in a wilderness with no amenities.  I am visualizing a world that puts everyone on the same democratic level as everyone else,  with many of us asking the street people for tips on how to get from one day to another without heat, food, clothing.

Not a bomb would need to drop to disable an entire country.  Are we vulnerable?

Old Swimmer

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PALEO: (sort of) Many Happy Returns – or- The Graying of America in a Poor Economy

This trip would not be possible on foot without my drastic change in diet.

NOTE: 8-11-2012   UPDATE, now settled in, and enjoying some real “bennies” within my family circle.   see 
  NOTE:  This is only slightly Paleo/Primal related, but it still belongs in this blog because I   am a grateful recuperating Senior who was helped enormously by my change to a primal style diet! Without this diet, I might be rolling into my next residence in a wheel chair!!!

            I remember when the children took their stuff and ran away from home…  maybe down a few houses to a girlfriend’s house.The girlfriend’s mother would call me and say “It’s okay, she can stay for a night or so.  She’s welcome here.”   A day later my daughter would be back, probably with her friend, and ask if SHE can stay overnight at OUR house.  As teens they traded houses for longer times– it was a good thing to learn someone else’s parents’ ways, and the independence struggle seemed mitigated some by having a home away from home.

Then they start a career.  The career often starts many many months after higher education ends and guess who is still in the old bedroom with the little ruffled dressing table and the stuffed animals?

It’s really so nice to have a place where you have a roof you can count on and good stuff in the fridge.

The so-called greying of America thing is causing some of us old people to come and go pretty much the same way.

This old MeJane lady is going back to the kids.    My move will be complete in about two week’s time.  It’s been happening over about two month’s time, since this old lady is not the kind who sits in a little chair and knits and then goes to bed.  This old lady has a painting studio and a woodshop and a self owned business, and that requires a staggering amount of STUFF that has to find a place to be.

It was a good idea for me to have THREE children.  One of them is going to put up with me in person (that’s the Paleo one, who got me started on this new diet regimen.   Another of them will allow me to use her garage for my new workshop, which is where I will do most of my carving and the larger messier paintings.   And the third child will be looking after my finances, since I am sick and tired of being so disorganized about them and so are my creditors and bankers.   This will be so wonderful.   I have needed a mother for a long time– and they learned good stuff about mothering from me.  And they also learned how to be organized, believe it or not, from me.  But now I’m going to let them take me under their wing so I can have a second childhood!

That old lady in the picture is not much like me in a lot of ways…I still dress young, whether I should or not, and I usually am dashing around with a pony tail behind and jeans and a turtleneck on, and my feet are not fat, and I wear less “sensible” looking shoes!   The other way is less obvious.  I do not decorously drag a civilized wheeled piece of luggage behind me .  I have to transport my stuff in hundreds (literally) of boxes and  tall tubes and strange shaped rigs and also bring the stands, and lights, and cabinets and easels and saws and grinders and a ton of tools with me.

Guess who has already done a lot of moving of this stuff for me?  Yup, my three kids.  Guess who is coming next weekend again with the moving truck?  Yup, the kids again.

What does all this have to do with paleo/primal?  Not much, except I am doing it standing upright, which was not what I was doing before I started the no-carb stuff.   I had been sick, and now I am feeling much better.  I can hardly wait to get back to work in my shop. And, yes, the place I’m moving to has a paleo-type kitchen!!     What a nice chance to be near my kids… and their kids.


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