Thomas Friedman, "Hot, Flat, and Crowded"

I had a gentle nudge from the powers that be the other night. Being somewhat of a nightowl (meaning, I was not sufferring from insomnia in this case) the night after I watched David Letterman tear off on climate change, I decided to turn on his show again to see if Barack Obama was on.

The TV was on PBS when I turned it on, and a familiar voice jarred my subconscious and paused my hand from changing over to CBS. I stopped and watched, and it was Charlie Rose interviewing Thomas Friedman, author of "Hot, Flat, and Crowded."

This is the author and book that had Dave on such a tear the other night.

http://www.thomaslfriedman.com/

So, I couldn't remember the name of the author or title of his latest book, but at least I recalled his voice. :D

I just learned that Barack Obama was on last night but I went to sleep early. I have to get some sleep now and again to keep my brain functioning at a minimum. ;)

Frost, Plath, and Sandburg

Acquainted With the Night
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain --and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
Robert Frost

Black Rook In Rainy Weather
On the stiff twig up there
Hunches a wet black rook
Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain.
I do not expect a miracle
Or an accident

To set the sight on fire
In my eye, nor seek
Any more in the desultory weather some design,
But let spotted leaves fall as they fall,
Without ceremony, or portent.

Although, I admit, I desire,
Occasionally, some backtalk
From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain:
A certain minor light may still
Lean incandescent

Out of kitchen table or chair
As if a celestial burning took
Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then --
Thus hallowing an interval
Otherwise inconsequent

By bestowing largesse, honor,
One might say love. At any rate, I now walk
Wary (for it could happen
Even in this dull, ruinous landscape); skeptical,
Yet politic; ignorant

Of whatever angel may choose to flare
Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook
Ordering its black feathers can so shine
As to seize my senses, haul
My eyelids up, and grant

A brief respite from fear
Of total neutrality. With luck,
Trekking stubborn through this season
Of fatigue, I shall
Patch together a content

Of sorts. Miracles occur,
If you care to call those spasmodic
Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait's begun again,
The long wait for the angel,
For that rare, random descent.
Sylvia Plath

Horses and Men in Rain

Let us sit by a hissing steam radiator a winter’s day, gray wind
pattering frozen raindrops on the window,
And let us talk about milk wagon drivers and grocery delivery boys.

Let us keep our feet in wool slippers and mix hot punches and talk
about mail carriers and messenger boys slipping along the icy
sidewalks.
Let us write of olden, golden days and hunters of the Holy Grail and
men called knights riding horses in the rain, in the cold frozen rain
for ladies they loved.

A roustabout hunched on a coal wagon goes by, icicles drip on his hat
rim, sheets of ice wrapping the hunks of coal, the caravanserai a gray
blur in slant of rain.
Let us nudge the steam radiator with our wool slippers and write poems
of Launcelot, the hero, and Roland, the hero, and all the olden golden
men who rode horses in the rain.
Carl Sandburg

Insomnia

OK, so that's what I get for bragging about caffeine not giving me insomnia-a case of insomnia.

However, the caffeine was not the culprit last night. I had my blood in a boil over an injustice wreaked upon me by the local school system. Already, just a week of school underfoot, and I am seriously affronted.

I have had issues with the small local school in the past, but I think this one might be the last straw. I am 90% sure I will be homeschooling the saplings for the remainder of the school year. I have serious reservations about taking on such an enormous responsibility, but I think perhaps it is the best choice at this time.

So I tried in vain to fall asleep last night. Usually if I decide to sleep nothing gets in my way-caffeine, noises, locations...snooze. Not last night. After at least an hour or so, I realized the David Letterman show was underway, and I thought I recalled that Barack Obama was going to be on, so I relocated downstairs and turned on the tube.

Dave was holding up a book about climate change, penned by a New York Times journalist, whose name and book title escapes me as I type this. The point was, Dave was really upset. He was saying stuff like, how about everyone gets rid of their cars and starts bicycling everywhere? With the amount of CO2 and greenhouse gases in the atmosphere NOW, the Earth will continue to heat for the next 60 years. We are so SCREWED!!!!

Then the audience would LAUGH.

Then Dave would say something like, "yeah, go have another pitcher of Margaritas,"
greeted with more laughter.

The he started on about the melting ice and polar bears are gone. He just saw 20 swimming down the Hudson. More laughter.

Then Paul Schaeffer asked what a polar bear was-he didn't remember them.

Dave just kept saying, "we are SO screwed," "and why hasn't the government done anything about this?!?!"

and telling the laughing audience to have another drink-the jab being that they must be loaded to think the subject was something to laugh about.

I cuddled on the couch with a blanket and watched open-mouthed. You go, Dave!!!

Then his first guest, Kiera Knightly, of Pirates of the Caribbean fame came out to promote her new movie "Duchess" and let Dave know that she was mortified that he had this Doomsday mood lead-in that might spoil her hopefully upbeat interview. PLLLEEEAASE.


Well, she IS only 23 years old. Dave delightedly pointed out his TIE was that old, and that she was young enough to still be alive to see the Earth explode. hehehe.

Finally Dave brought the author of the book out, and then had some good if not great discourse of ideas about how to (try) and effect some change in energy policies to get us out of this mess.

Then Craig Fergusson came on with the Late late show, and I watched his intro (he cracks me up). He was doing a bit about how google was ten years old, you know, google to search your friends, and find good deals on stuff, and let's see....he mimics an elderly McCain at a keyboard (he is awesome with his body and facial expressions) and says, "hmmmm, let's seeeeeee"...."Vice president"......."Lady"......*hits search*" LMAO.

Interestingly enough, if I fall asleep on the couch with the TV on, Craig Fergusson always wakes me up. But last night he had the opposite effect. I felt my eyes close with a big smile still plastered on my face, and got up and went to bed where I promptly fell asleep. Thanks Dave and Craig, for making me smile in the face of such serious issues.

revenge of the creeping black goo

As evening crept in last night, it became obvious why the roofing tar only covered half of what it did last year. It was too thick, and it started to drip. And drip, and drip.

Poor Loosey Goosey took a big splot right across his beak. I felt so sorry for him, I had to try and get it off with a paper towel soaked in vegetable oil. Considering that I had quit trying to be friends with the goose a number of months ago, and our relationship is based on him pretty much accepting that I am boss and leaving me alone, this was a challenge.

He did very well, but I couldn't get the goop off.

Then this morning, his beautiful white feathers were showing a few splotches. Oh-oh. I went after his feathers with the oil, but just managed to smear it a bit. After I tended the goats, I ran in for the surgical scissors. I think Loos knew what was coming-he ran.

I cornered him by the rabbit hutch and managed to snip the worst bits off his supreme plummage. At least he won't get it in his mouth now.

Then I rigged a shattered piece of plastic with some baling twine and staples to that end of the house, to try and catch the drips before they hit any more unwilling victims. All morning great stringy ploops have been hitting the plastic. It seems to be a perfect drying and curing day, so it better stop dripping soon!!!!!

Hannah made my roof leak

The tropical storm Hannah moved in after the house had fallen asleep. As happens to me with severe storms and their associated low pressure, I had knocked out cold with the radio running and a half a mug of coffee. ONe day caffeine will keep me up all night, I am sure, but not yet.

I heard torrential rain during the night-even the loud radio couldn't drown out the hammering.

Willow awoke shortly after I did with the report,"my ceiling is leaking."

UGH.
Yes, it had leaked, and missed the bed by inches, and then leaked downstairs, somehow soaking the couch, but as leaks can run along rafters they can be the devil to locate.

I was going to head directly to the city this am, and mentally added in a Home Depot stop for more roofing tar, but I figured I better get on the roof first and see what was up. Every summer the roof gets maintenence-this summer I just have not gotten around to it.

I had the Firebird help moved the mattress and box spring off the frame in my room. Who makes queen sized mattresses with no handles, anyhow?!?!?! We managed, and I dragged in, and upstairs, the eight foot stepladder, cursing myself for getting the eight-footer, as it is tight setting it up in that spot.

At least the hatch was still operable, although heavier than usual as the rain had soaked the boards that extend along the frame...from underneath, as it must have been splashing.

I discovered I still had a half a bucket of tar from last summer up on the roof, but the roof was soaked in puddles. The house has three roofs-the one over my room is flat, the other two are shed style with a drop of 1 foot for 6 feet of run, so they were roll-rooffed and not shingled.

The culprit is (always) the larger shed roof sloping North. That is the only one that was laid with OSB board and not 1 inch pine boards. I patched and tarred it last year, but the ice dams last winter had it leaking. It didn't leak all summer. I had to use the mop to mop up the puddles on the flat side to get it to dry, figuring I would seal that as well while I was at it.

I scanned the suspect section of roof and found a couple of matchhead sized spots and that was all! So, I used the thick stuff and a putty knife. Along some of the seams I added in fiberglass cloth, because although I retar them every year, with the expansion and contraction tiny spaces open up. I figured the cloth might cure that.

Then I was ready to spread the liquid goop. What did that whole section of roof when it was 90F last summer did half of it this year. It was going on late afternoon, so I decided to make a run to the Village to pick up another bucket. When we arrived, they were closed!!!! Grrr. By then it was 4pm so not enough time to drive to the city and get back to it.

So, some ice creams and some IPA and we headed home, to haul everything back down off the roof (mop bucket, mop, putty knife, etc, etc) close the hatch, put the bed back together..and hope we get some 90s this month to finish the job.

At least I made sure to focus on the suspected leak-spot, and managed to work in cleaning the chimney while the mopped-up roof was drying. Turns out that I didn't have to mop that darn section since I never got to it.

Well, I am sure the flying squirrels will appreciate a clean dry place to romp tonight. ;)

Few black delegates attend Republican convention

By JON TEVLIN -
Star Tribune (Minneapolis)
At the Republican National Convention in 2004, the party touted its record number of black delegates - 167 or almost 7 percent of the total.

This year?

"We don't know the numbers," said Gina Countryman, communications director of the Republican Party of Minnesota. "They don't check boxes that say race or religion."

The numbers appear to be down dramatically, though. One nonpartisan group, the Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies, counted 36 black delegates this year, which would be 1.5 percent of the GOP delegates.

David Bositis, who oversaw the study, said the party was "not very cooperative," in helping with numbers, so they may be slightly off. But 36 would be the fewest black delegates at a GOP convention since 1964.
http://www.bradenton.com/politics/story/859764.html

Ramblings again

The saplings started school this week. I made sure to walk Peko down to the bus so he could see the kids get on and realize they were not going to be home. The first two days he strained on the leash to stand on his back legs while they entered the bus, and then after the bus pulled away, he cast about the end of the drive and into the woods, looking for them.

He seemed to think they had teleported nearby and could not understand where they had gone. By the second day, his ears perked up in the afternoon when the other town's bus went by earlier.

Today he seemed to understand that they left on the bus. He is very glad to see them come home again!

I have been doing the morning chores solo and leaving him in the house while I grain and hay the goats. I am just too worried about having the goats tied and then freaking out over the dog. So I listen to Peko bark, and howl, while I am doing the goats. I think it is because he can see me from the window.

Yesterday I had some chores to run, including dropping the chainsaw off for maintenence. I took Peko with me. The only place he barked was at the grain store. I had a bit of a dilemma because the grain goes in the back, but I didn't want him to jump out of the car. So my grain dealer said she would load and I could restrain the dog.

This has been a regular stop for him, and she always gives him a few dog biscuits. Well, after she put the first sack of grain in the back, he just leaned over the back seat waggin his tail, and she handed him his biscuits and said, "That is what he was looking for!!"

I replied, "N, you must be friends with all your client's dogs!"

She admitted she has a lot of friends. LOL

I haven't left the dog home alone YET. I am pretty sure now he wont go through a window *knocks on wood*, but I am not too sure how he will be with one of the cats, Ruby. She likes to attack him, and he doesn't like it too much. This morning she attacked him and then was staring at him, and he growled at her. Othertimes they sleep on the bed together, but Ruby is a moody little thing.

I have been asked by the farm to do some fence work, and I claimed this week off. I am not too sure what to do with the dog while I am working though. Boss said I could bring him with and put him in the goat pen, but I am pretty sure he could clear a four foot fence. I guess what I will do is leave him at home.

I dropped a CD of pix off for developing last week, and called today and they said it was $90.00!!!!!!! WHAT!?!?!?! Ifeel like a total idiot, as I could have used that 90 in many other ways!!!! So I guess I have no choice but to put in some time at the farm to pay for my photo madness.

Somewhere only we Know

I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete

Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

I came across a fallen tree
I felt the branches of it looking at me
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?

Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me inI
'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
Somewhere only we know?

Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
Somewhere only we know?

This could be the end of everything
So why don't we goSomewhere only we know?
Keane lyrics

ramblings

We had a visitor last week. Or perhaps the week before. Time flies around here. Tempus Fugit.

We have so little traffic on the road several hundred feet away, that oftentimes it sounds as if someone is pulling in the drive. Not lately, of course, with the condition of the drive-even a well tuned automobile makes an obvious ruckus pulling in.

The Firebird sounded the alert, and the local boys have me well trained.

They sit in the dooryard and beep their horn-perhaps this is a legacy of years of bullmastiffs, but if an unexpected visitor arrives, I trot out dutifully to see what they want.

This time I was caught offguard (well, at least I wasn't in pj's)-but offguard in the sense that the visitor was out of the vehicle and headed up the side drive. He kept coming even after seeing my approach.

My first impression was military; clean cut, small but well built. He oozed proper manners and brandished a brand new Maine road atlas. (mine is well loved and in shreds and well past the point of replacement). He was obviously "not from around here".

He pointed at the boat icon at the head of the pond on the map, and gestured down the drive with his map..."do you know who owns this path?"

"That is a twenty foot public right of way to ------- pond, " I informed him. "You are welcome to put in, but they prefer if you park along the road."

He looked a bit puzzled, and repeated, "yes, but who OWNS it?"

I told him the name of the family, and which house, and specifically to talk to the neighbor with the bulldog disposition, and he confirmed the name and the house and thanked me and left.

Of course in this neck of the woods, that was food for thought for several days. I deduce he is from out of state, perhaps California, and maybe not military, but perhaps a lawyer. How many folks of average intelligence realize that a public right of way/access is still owned by someone?

Or perhaps he meant the trail beyond the boat landing-that is still private property. At least it qualifies as a trail now that it has been trimmed-to me a path is the ghost of a deer trail indicated by an opening through the branches, which usually splits off into even more questionable paths as it meanders through the woodland. Maybe I have paths and trails confused. A trail is something you can ride a horse on-a path to me usually means a footpath. Hence my indignant response with, "twenty-foot right of way." LOL.

So, I spent a tense few days wondering if this was an attempt at a purchase of the property. Visions of million dollar homes and deforestation danced across my vision. My ace in the hole was the woman I directed him to speak with. When her husband died, they were split up, and he left his out-of-state oldest daughter from a previous marraige in charge of his affairs, and the neighbor confided in me, as he was on his deathbed, that she was afraid she might be kicked out.

We have had minimal contact since that conversation well over a year ago-the man passed last summer-so I have no real idea in whose name the property is in. However, C is still there with the brood, and if she does not own it directly, I am sure she would not have directed an out-of-state purchaser to the out-of-state daughter. And if she owns it herself, I doubt that she would part with it, although money does talk to us poor folk. Or perhaps that polite, well- groomed healthy male specimen was sent to soften up the old bulldog(S). ;)

A few days after that, I saw a trio of vehicles parked along the road, and several others tucked in for a gathering. The trio stayed the weekend-either camping on the pond or perhaps on the property in question. So I was relieved to surmise in the end it was most probably a case of requesting permission to use the property and not purchase it.

I couldn't help but notice this weekend that another trio of vehicles had parked right up to the pond blocking the right of way. I was incredulous. A holiday weekend and they are blocking the right of way!?! Bear in mind that this is no way affects me personally-I don't have a canoe or kayak (bummer)-nor do I own the property. But I see the few folks that use the pond kindly, and the ones that are not so kind, and I was angry for the folks that had hoped to put in for a paddle over the beautiful weekend.

I have watched many lug their canoes and kayaks down the right of way, and trying to get past three suvs and trucks with a load would be impossible. Nevermind the fact that if any of them were leaking oil, it was going to leach directly in the pond. They were there Friday night, all day Saturday, Saturday night, and by Sunday I decided to act.

We walked the dog down to the pond, and actually it was a spur of the moment thing or I would have brought pen and paper and left a note. I saw a superman insignia in the dust on the hood of the front suv, and inspiration struck.

With my forefinger I wrote, "You are blocking a public right away. RUDE. :( "

Later that afternoon on subsequent dog pees I saw three vehicles pulled along the road that put in kayaks or canoes. I wondered how they felt when they had to drag by the vehicles in the way, and if they saw my dust doodlings. Then I did feel a bit guilty, as each subsequent paddler might suspect the previous one .....

shortly after the third had arrived,,, there was some commotion and the three blocking vehicles left (the saplings riding bikes informed me)...and I wondered if the poor innocent paddlers had waved at the ROW blockers, and if the ROW blockers upon return cursed them, the unguilty. Geez-I really don't have much excitement around here, do I?
LOL

I just feel very protective of the pond, as it is such a lovely unspoilt place. ON a recent trip to the city, we travelled through a place where there are cottages right up to the water-and visible along the pond. And that water was as green as jade, and as murky. That is what development does. Run off and leaky septics (or overflowing in heavy rain) cause algae blooms. They are disgusting. Our pond is as clear as glass.

I embrace the fisher folk and nature lovers who respect it for what it is. I am not too crazy about motorboats on the pond-too often I have seen a glaze of oil or gas on the water after one manages to put in. That is one of the nice things about the condition of the right of way-it almost demands hand carry only.

So, time will tell what will happen to the pond. IN ten years it has pretty much remained unchanged-the dam has taken some damage but looks solid overall. The worst thing that ever happened was the deceased landowner, in his last winter here, when he was laying the logs out to mark the right of way, dragged an old shanty down the pond and smashed it to bits with his tractor to discourage folks from parking there. It was a terrible eyesore, and I still pick up bits of glass from the one window. Some of the framing I hauled home and built the goose house-another intrepid visitor lugged out the aluminum siding when the price of junk metal got high. All that remains are a few odd bits that someone else and myself chucked over the logs-and they will be rotted in another few years. So for now, paradise is secure. Drop me a line and I'll give you the grand tour-including the path streamside. You might note the name of the stream on your brand new Maine Atlas. ;)

SGT Pepper RIP

Tree 507 file photo
Word has reached me that the farm lost Sgt Pepper this summer. I will spare my reader the gory details, but he did get euthanized in the Boss's garden-she brought him home from the vet's and paid a farm call so that he might pass in beauty. He deserved it-even the help that hates bucks loved Pepper.

I would re-post the pic of me bent towards him with a kissy face, except it is on the other comp which is awaiting more memory for a new virus protection package. I don't dare transfer anything in the meantime. So here is a cropped pic from deep in the Tree archives. RIP Pepper-I am sorry you missed apple season. :(