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Not Rose, but close.

Sophie had a dinner guest tonight—and she was only medium graceful about it. Rosie, a yellow lab twice Sophie’s size and just her same age, was graceful and ladylike and not at all interested in Sophie’s food or her treats. I fed Soph early, in anticipation of the visit, but she hadn’t had her treat or eaten her second helping, which is kibble, when Rosie arrived. I put the kibble out of the way to avoid disagreements. The dogs got along but pretty soon Sophie began her demanding bark—I gave each of them a treat, but Rosie, unfamiliar with that treat, declined it. And Sophie barked until I gave Rosie’s treat to her.

Then she began to bark again, which made conversation difficult. I tried fresh water. I tried everything. Finally, Rosie’s person suggested it was the kibble. I gave Sophie that, she ate and settled down on the floor. At one point, she was lying so close to Rosie I thought they were cuddling.

Rosie’s human is Babette Hale, columnist, publisher, and short story writer. Her collection, A Wall of Bright Dead Feathers won the 2021 best short story award from the Texas Institute of Letters. Babette is also the widow of Leon Hale, longtime columnist for the Houston Post who died just over a year ago at the age of ninety-nine. Hale’s columns, musings on everyday life often down back roads, were legendary in Texas and his fans legion.

Babette and I have known each other a longtime but really bonded after we both sort of retired—and got new pups. I said tonight it was the dogs that brought us together, but she said it was also cooking and writing. And those were the topics tonight—the kind of intellectual discussion none of us get often. Shared interests, shared subjects—such fun. Babette lives in Winedale and was stopping in Fort Worth on her way to Santa Fe (yes, jealous—I wanted to sneak Soph and me into the back seat of her car!).

So what did I serve to someone who says we bonded over cooking? An appetizer of goat cheese with pesto; a crab salad—halfway through the meal I confessed it was Krab, faux crab, really whitefish—she said it tasted more like lobster than crab, and who’s to argue with that?). For dessert, chocolate bon bons from Trader Joe’s—small chocolate covered bites of ice cream and cookie. A good light meal.

As so many people do, Babette had trouble backing out of the driveway. I swear I had the dishes washed before she successfully hit the street. But what a lovely evening.

Otherwise, not a lovely day. Not a bad one, but not lovely. This morning it took me until almost eleven-thirty to read and respond to emails plus read the news of the day and do a quick check for messages on Facebook. I find the news of the Democrats increasing approval—both mid-term candidate and the president—an occasion for cautious encouragement, though I never want us to become over-confident too soon. But I am increasingly appalled at the arrogance and disregard for our country that trump showed in stealing security documents.

I suspect I’m preaching to the choir here, but I find the possibilities of what he may have already done with them, who he may have shared them with, increasingly frightening. It may be the one most blatant case of treason ever in our history, and I am anxious to have him punished to the full extent of the law. We cannot live in peace until that is done. At whatever cost. (If I weren’t a lady, there are several things I would say to Lindsey Graham.)

Locally I am perturbed by what I just found is a new Texas rule: schools must display a banner or whatever that says, “In God We Trust” and displays the American and Texas flags. I love the poster who suggested it be on a background of rainbow colors, since the background isn’t specified. Yay to the Carrollton/Southlake ISD which has rejected the signs (and I thought they were a leader in book banning—got to rethink that.) The power of the alt-right Christian movement scares me more than I can say, and this is just one little ripple.

It is in the seventies tonight, and my patio door is open. Poor Rosie couldn’t figure out how to go in and out of the flexible screen door, no matter how often we showed her. As Babette asked tonight, “Why is it so humid if we’re in the midst of a drought?” At any rate, I am enjoying the cooler temperatures, sorry that the rain has skirted all around us.

Time for all good dogs and the rest of us to be asleep. Sweet dreams. I bet Sophie is dreaming of food and treats.

Grief and Outrage

No real blog tonight. I was going to write about the joy of old friends, but it seems somehow trivial in the face of the latest school shooting, one with a high number of victims. I grieve for those students in Florida, for the families who lost children, for the children left behind to live in fear that will haunt them forever. I grieve for my country, where one apparently-deranged person can wreak havoc and ruin so many lives.

I am outraged, but I’ve been outraged before. What good does it do me or the country? I am outraged at those legislators who have pocketed NRA money. I am, in a fit of anger, outraged at anybody who voted these fools into office, which pretty much means any Republican voter. How can they? I want to cry out to the heavens. (I have one dear, dear relative and several friends who voted Republican; some will talk to me about it, but others will not).

I think of my grandchildren. One in college, one in high school, three in middle school, and two in elementary school. They are all vulnerable, though the worst threat so far to the college girl was a man sighted on campus with a sword. Slightly archaic but give me swords over guns any time. But it’s a bit scary to think of them heading to school every day.

I am tired of “We need our guns for self-protection,” and “We have to be able to hunt.” I used to be sympathetic to those arguments, but no more. We need to get rid of guns in the hands of private citizens. Sure, criminals will still get them but in dramatically smaller numbers, and we stand a good chance of keeping them out of the hands of the mentally ill. Look at the buy-back program in Australia or the effective gun control that’s been working in England for years. No, it’s not an impossibility. Internationally, we hold a lot of honors—like the most mass shootings, the most gun deaths.

I know we cannot blame the Trump administration for these shootings, since they started years before. But this administration just did relax controls so that now it is easier for the mentally ill to obtain weapons. I do blame Trump and him alone for setting the mood in this country where it’s okay to be angry, belligerent, hateful and spiteful, and to act on your anger.

I’d been thinking about Trump today before the shooting, and it occurred to me there’s so much about him to dislike, so many changes he has wrought that destroy our democracy, our country, and our way of life. But, unfortunately, they are mostly things that cause us to wring our hands and gnash our teeth. But two things stand out to me as treason, before the Mueller report is even in (which I expect to confirm collusion and more):

Trump has refused to enact the sanctions imposed on Russia by Congress for meddling in our elections (which they are apparently poised to do again, without any concern from the White House), and he has exposed our country to security risks in the guise of highly placed staff who apparently cannot get security clearances. I know nothing of Rob Porter (except that I despise him), but Jared Kushner, the president’s son-in-law, has known, established ties to Russia and no security clearance. Does Donald Jr. have a clearance, he who said they get all their money from Russia these days? (45 should teach his sons to button their lips).

How long as a country do we allow a traitor to sit in the White House and undermine all that we hold dear? Please hurry, Mr. Mueller. And please, those of you who thought your vote didn’t matter, turn out in mass numbers this fall. My grandchildren are depending on you—and so are your children and grandchildren.

Oops, no blog, but I certainly did carry on.

Ambivalent no more

From Facebook: We bomb Syria after Syria bombed Syria to show Syria not to bomb Syria, but we still won’t accept Syrian refugees after we bomb Syria for bombing Syria? Makes no sense, does it?

I’m piecing things together as I read them—yes, they’re mostly from Facebook and no, most of them are not substantiated but there’s enough for concern. Something stinks. We bombed a Syrian airfield at a cost of about $55 million in bombs. But the air field was virtually empty except for a few planes under repair. At best, we pockmarked the runways and even that is in doubt because a day later Syrian planes took off from the same field to bomb the same town that Assad had gassed earlier—causing our retaliation. So we wasted in the area of $55 million. Well, not wasted—somebody profited. Namely a company called Ratheon that manufactures the bombs. And guess who owns Ratheon stock? The president who didn’t divest himself of his investments as promised.

There are strong indications—like an empty airfield—that Syria was warned. The logical thread? From the White House to Putin to Assad. Too many hints to ignore, but Congress goes placidly amidst the haste (or is it waste?), sitting on its collective butt. This country is doomed to go up in smoke if someone of moral courage doesn’t step up and demand that Ryan and McConnell instigate independent reviews of the bombing and a lot of other suspicious things. Who? John McCain once seemed the man who spoke truth as he saw it, yet he denounced the nuclear option and then voted for it. No one dares oppose Ryan, McConnell or the party. We are effectively trapped unless we make our voices effective. Joe Kennedy is young, but he sure bested Ryan on medical care.

A frightening side effect for those who thought our so-called leader showed compassion for the children who were gassed in Syria: reportedly he is now considering a nuclear option for North Korea—this time a literal nuclear option, not a symbolic one. Other than being generally offensive, I can’t figure out what North Korea has done recently to threaten us. There’s always the possibility that the president liked the shock and awe, when his air strike was new and believable, and wants an even bigger bang.

Where is the media in all this? Going along with the justified, successful air strike line, that’s where. We don’t have a media voice to speak the truth. Yes, we have some effective and cogent columnists, but I suspect few people read columns—they read headlines. We need media people in the trenches to remember their commitment to speak the truth loudly and clearly. Too much is at stake.

And this is why I was awake at three in the morning, with a sense of terror for my family, my friends, and my country.