Wednesday, February 25, 2009

how's yer free lunch?

That sniveling prick John Boehner is whimpering about the difficulty the Grand Obstructionist Party has in selling its ideas to the American people:

"It's harder to sell. . .We have a tougher job than our friends across the aisle. They’ve been offering Americans a free lunch for the last 80 years, rather successfully. . . . Those of us that believe in a smaller, more accountable government, we have a tougher time making our principles relevant to the American people. But it’s our challenge, and we’ve got to do it.”

All y'all enjoying your free lunch, now? Been chowing down for the last eighty years? I'm looking around for my free lunch and I just can't find the fucking thing, or the remnants of it, not even a dried out crust.

I noticed, though, that Mr. Principles Boehner voted for that hideous Medicare Part D corporate welfare plan. Guess the big pharmaceutical companies were needing some lunch. And he was one leading the charge on the monstrous welfare handout to Halliburton/KBR, Titan, Blackwater, CACI et al we call the Iraq war. No lunch for the dead soldiers. Or the dead Iraqi citizens.

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Thursday, February 19, 2009

whatcha up to?

I've been in a strange place lately and I can't seem to shake the winter blues. I really feel like I should go to bed for another month, wake up about the time the goldfinches come through town.

What I've been up to waiting for spring:

I'm compulsively checking new listings in Yucatan and Campeche, as beach front properties have dropped substantially in the last couple of months and escape to Mexico is still the dream I will realize.

The only thing making the cold survivable is the spiced chai I've been making in the morning: thick slices of fresh ginger, a dozen cardamom pods, lots of black pepper, a pinch of cumin, cinnamon, nutmeg, mace, cloves and bay leaves. I boil it for 30 minutes in a quart or two of water, then fill my 32 oz mug and plop in a big tea bag, steep, then add milk and sweetener. Who knew? Never heard of it until I found a gardening group on Craigslist, now I've become quite the little joiner, following in my mother's footsteps. I have games group twice a month, community gardening, baby Buddhist training, and a writer's group.

Seeds have arrived and I'll be starting them this weekend. Red Star tomato, ancient squashes (fascinated by squash), sugar snap peas, the sweetest corn. I'm desperately seeking a good load of rabbit shit, but it's hard to come by and I'll probably end up with horse or goat. If all else fails, I'll go test the piles at the stockyards and find one that's aged long enough to turn into that sweet smelling, crumbly golden gardener's treasure. A good supply of well aged manure is one of life's joys.

Daddy called me 43 times Saturday between 9 a.m. and 3 p.m. I answered 14 of the calls and let the others go. He's getting worse, and he's increasingly unhappy. His physical health seems to be improving, though. I'm having thoughts I couldn't have imagined 20 years ago. One of the most wretched aspects of dementia is the loss of dignity. It's unbearable to watch.

Reading? Are you reading? I just finished A Thousand Splendid Suns and cried off and on for two days. The idea of the Afghan people waiting, hoping, that the US would help them while they were being destroyed by fighting among the warlords broke my heart. And then the treatment of women . . . inconceivable.

The IRS came to call at my warehouse a few weeks ago. The accountant I've had for the nine years I've been in business apparently received dozens of letters asking for reports from 2006, ignored them all, and so the IRS. Now the witch won't return my calls.

Woke up to an email from one of my juvenile parole kids, now 33 years old. "I just wanted to tell you I appreciate what you did for me, you really helped me." Sweet.

My biggest buyer has accepted that Russia's economic downturn is only going to get worse, the oligarchs are actually running out of money, and he will not be taking his latest container full of furniture. Fuck.

This version of the Silver Palate's Chicken Marbella is divine.

Republicans. God help us all. Obstructionist bastards.

And you? That's enough about me, what about you? Whatcha been up to? Whatcha reading, eating, thinking about, doing? Tell, please.