Things that make you say "#$%^&*()!!"

On last night's TV news there was a quick blurb about how Andrew Card, George W. Bush's chief of staff, had commented that President Obama was showing disrespect for the Oval Office by dropping W's rule that coats and ties had to be worn at all times.

My reaction would have shocked my mother. (She doesn't think I use that kind of language. Sorry, Mom.)

We just finished eight years of constitution trampling, waterboarding, WMD-faking, country-wrecking (Afghanistan, Iraq and the US), world alienating bullshit by the last occupant of the White House and his cronies, all of which showed utter contempt and disrespect for the rule of law, the goodwill of the world, and the intelligence of the American people. Whether or not the new president and his advisors wear coats and ties while they are working to unravel this mess makes absolutely no difference.

What's that old saying we use to describe a person who has fully engaged in a new task? We say he has "rolled up his sleeves". Roll 'em up, Barack! We'll roll ours up, too.

I could have continued my rant, but the folks at the "Think Progress" blog and their readers have said everything else I might want to say. (And Mom, don't read the comments...they get a bit crude. Hysterically funny, but crude.)

Test - Creative Commons license

This is a test of the html code generated by the Creative Commons web site - http://creativecommons.org/license/

This is only a test. I don't really have a book titled "MyBook". Really.



My Book by Mike Johnston is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

TED and Isabelle

Today I found TED.com. TED stands for "Technology, Entertainment, Design". Their "About" page says "We believe passionately in the power of ideas to change attitudes, lives and ultimately, the world."

The site presents videos of short talks given at TED conferences. I found the site after reading Guy Kawasaki's interview with Garr Reynolds. It was recommended as a place to see great presentations and learn from great presenters. There's lots to see there, and it is a visually stunning site - great design and presentation. (Hint: Go to the "Themes" page and click on "View as Visualization".)

This is a site I'll visit often for ideas and inspiration. This morning I watched a video of Isabelle Allende, the Chilean author, telling "tales of Passion". She had me from the beginning, when she began with "an old Jewish saying": "What is truer than truth? Answer: The story."

It's an 18 minute talk that is alternately funny, sad and inspiring. Check it out below...and visit TED.com.

Now can we impeach George W. Bush?

I opened the newspaper this morning during breakfast and saw the following:

"WASHINGTON -- The White House said Wednesday that the widely condemned interrogation technique known as waterboarding is legal and that President Bush could authorize the CIA to resume using the simulated drowning method under extraordinary circumstances."

Read the article...

What possible justification could there be? Yes, I know, mumble...mumble..."Al Qaeda"..."9/11"...."homeland security"...

How about we just say "we no longer give a damn about demonstrating any kind of moral leadership in the world"?

Not If, But When...

Like we need something else to be paranoid about...the CIA is now warning about a threat of foreign hackers ability to infiltrate the US power grid and, literally, shut off our lights.

Where's my 40 acres and a windmill?

I Want To Go Here!

I'm posting this mainly so I don't lose it...a New York Times "Frugal Traveler" guide to Hawaii. Wow!

http://travel.nytimes.com/2008/01/27/travel/27Hawaii.html?8td&emc=tda1

A Little Bit of Melvin...

Remember Melvin Udall? That was Jack Nichoson's character in "As Good As It Gets" - the OCD-neurotic character who couldn't walk down the sidewalk because it had cracks in it?

Well, I think Beans, our Boston Terrier, has a little bit of Melvin in her.



We've seen a few incidents lately where she balks at walking down the back hallway - one of only two ways out of the condo to the little patches of grass where a dog can "do her business". Maybe it's the smell of another dog's marking - who knows? We spent several nights this week in a hotel while a hardwood floor was being installed in the condo. Beans would happily trot down the hallway from our room, but would balk when expected to turn the corner to the elevator. Back at home today, she is balking at entering the condo - something about the new wood floor is disturbing to her. It looks oddly Melvin-ish..."I'm not gonna walk on that stuff...only bad things can come of it."

We're working with her, using the little 'treats' from the local dog bakery. (I know...how can you help having a neurotic dog when you go to the 'dog bakery'.) She's getting it...little by little. I don't know whether to call the "Dog Whisperer" or Helen Hunt.


I guess the good news is thatBeans doesn't look like Jack!

Quote for the Day

"Champions take chances and pressure is a privilege."

Text message from Billie Jean King to Maria Sharapova before Maria won the Australian Open tennis championship on Jan. 26, 2008.

Out of this world!

Here's a really cool site to visit - the Hubble Telescope News Center. It contains press releases and other information about the telescope. The best part is the collection of images from the telescope. High-resolution photos of planets, galaxies, stars and other space phenomena.

The image shown is "Dark Matter Distribution in Supercluster Abell 901/902".

http://hubblesite.org/newscenter/

Under New Management

We recently read that "you don't own a Boston Terrier, it owns you". Our experience this week suggests that is true. Our new owner, Beans, arrived on Wednesday before Thanksgiving.


We met Beans at the farm where she was born and raised, south of Akron, Ohio. She comes from good stock - her father was a champion at the Westminster dog show in 2003. (The cat is not related.)


Several members of Beans' extended family were on hand to say goodbye.


Back in Indianapolis, there were lots of new things to sniff and explore.


It was a long, tiring day for a little puppy.


On Thanksgiving day there were several new laps to sit in...




...and to nap in.

A Perfectly Good Word

Last Friday I was reading the "Leisure" section of the Indy Star and learned a new word. I found it in an advice column called "Tell Me About It"*, by Carolyn Hax ( tellme@washpost.com ).

The word was "twitterpated".

How it was used: "Idealistic, definsive and twitterpated are three states of being that, on their own, make people resistant to outside opinions."

I thought it was a made-up word, and made Mary look it up. She found a citation in an online dictionary. I can't find the exact same listing today, but did find several references, including the Merriam-Webster Online Open Dictionary:

(adjective) : under the influence of springfever, enamored, dizzy with fascination. "Nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime. You get weak in the knees. Your head starts to whirl. Before you know it, you're knocked for a loop!" -Bambi —Bambi, Disney, 1942

So maybe it's a word that was made up in Hollywood, but then so was "supercalifragelisticexpialidocious". I don't remember the exact dialogue, but either Dick VanDyke or Julie Andrews said that was a perfectly good word.


(*"Tell Me About It" by Carolyn Hax (tellme@washpost.com, published in The Indianapolis Star, Friday, September 7, 2007, Leisure section p. 27.)

What Friends Do

This morning I read an interesting article in the Indianapolis Star about a new social networking site called "WhatFriendsDo.com" It's aimed at people who want to organize a team of friends and relatives to support an individual in need through illness or other life-changing events.

http://www.indystar.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070909/COLUMNISTS23/709090342

I visited their site, http://www.whatfriendsdo.com/ , and found it to be simple and easy to navigate. Registration is free. It was created by a family here in Indianapolis. While I hope none of us need this service anytime soon, it's a link I'm going to keep.

New Roof, New View

In January we moved to downtown Indianapolis. It's been a great change - we left a big, suburban house for a small urban condo. It has been a beautiful spring in Indiana, and we have enjoyed getting out and exploring the sights and activities that Indy offers.


Here's the view from our new roof - a great place to watch the sunset and unwind at the end of the week.

More posts to follow, with pictures and some narrative about the fun we're having in downtown Indy.

Chilling News About Global Warming

The story below, along with its accompanying photo essay, should serve as a wake-up call for all of us.

http://abcnews.go.com/Technology/GlobalWarming/story?id=1843086&page=1

Something You Don't See Every Day

Here's something new under the sun...a new ocean being formed, and in a part of the world that can really use the water!

One caution: It will take about a million years for it to become a new
ocean, so there's no rush to stake out future seaside property.

How I Know We're Getting Closer to Christmas

Here are some signs that I know it's the holiday season.

1. There's Christmas music playing on the stereo. After 20 minutes, Mary tells me that there's only 1 or 2 more Kenny G. songs remaining in the playlist. We'll do an iTunes shuffle on that list tomorrow. Oh, good, here comes the Brooks and Dunn section.

2. The big wreath is hung above the garage door and smaller ones are hung on the front door, the gate, and each of the front windows. The spotlights are aimed and the white candle lights are positioned in the windows. With these simple additions, our plain, out of proportion exterior glows with a new warmth in the cold night air.



3. The garland has been unboxed and strung up the stair rails, across the tops of the kitchen cabinets, and over the fireplace. This simple addition always seems to transform the inside of the house.

4. And the bears have arrived. Mary and I made two long strings of these paper cutout bears probably twenty five years ago. We didn't have much money for decorations, but we did have some brown paper grocery bags, some colored markers, a pair of scissors and a free afternoon.



Over the years, we've lost a few of the bears, but there are enough remaining to bring a smile to my face as I add a new set of tape loops to their backs and hang them above the doorway. Welcome back, boys. It's good to see you, again.

Now, where's the eggnog and fruitcake?

Making Sense Where None Seems to Exist

I've spent the last couple of weeks watching, stunned, as the events along the Gulf Coast have played out on TV and in the papers. What seems most obvious is that the magnitude of Katrina's impact will be far reaching and ultimately bigger than any of us can imagine. But bigger than the disaster, I am confident, is the spirit of the world community that is opening it's wallets, homes and hearts to aid the victims.

We are a different country today for many reasons, one of which is that we are now the recipient of foreign aid from other countries. This assistance ranges from millions of dollars and millions of barrels of oil from several Arab countries to money and telecommunications equipment from Sweden to about $6,400 from Bosnia-Herzegovina. While the money and goods will help to restore many suffering peoples' lives to order, it is the symbolism that strikes me as especially significant. It reminds us that we are not alone in the world. We are a member of an interdependent global community. And maybe, despite our most relentless efforts to destroy it, there is still a resevoir of good will felt toward us by our neighbors.

This is heartening to me, because I am increasingly worried about the complex future we have created for ourselves. It is easy to find things to criticize - the war in Iraq, the bungling of hurricane relief efforts, the mounting budget deficits. It is difficult, for me at least, to imagine the solutions or the path forward, especially when we are, as a nation, so politically estranged.

At the risk of adding to that estrangement, I have to quote Thomas L. Friedman, a columnist for the New York Times. In a recent opinion piece, he wrote:

"The Bush team has engaged in a tax giveaway since 9/11 that has had one underlying assumption: There will never be another rainy day. Just spend money. You knew that sooner or later there would be a rainy day, but Karl Rove has assumed it wouldn't happen on Mr. Bush's watch - that someone else would have to clean it up. Well, it did happen on his watch.

Besides ripping away the roofs of New Orleans, Katrina ripped away the argument that we can cut taxes, properly educate our kids, compete with India and China, succeed in Iraq, keep improving the U.S. infrastructure, and take care of a catastrophic emergency - without putting ourselves totally into the debt of Beijing."

I read this earlier this morning, and have reread it several times. Beyond the fact that I respect Mr. Friedman's analytical and observational skills, this piece resonated with me because it illustrated the "underlying assumption" that I have been troubled by, but couldn't put into words. "There will never be another rainy day. Just spend money." Assume someone else will clean up the mess.

Here's a starting point for building a better future: Let's assume that there will be a rainy day. Better yet, let's assume there will be lots of them - not to wallow in gloom and doom, but to be prepared. Let's recognize that our resources - financial and human - are limited and that we have to make thoughtful choices about how to spend them. Let's pick our battles carefully - defend ourselves against agression, and use our strengths to aid our weaker neighbors but not to be the agressors.

It's a real boost to the national ego to talk about ourselves as the "lone remaining superpower". But it's time to realize that our power came from preparation, integrity, compassion and restraint, not as a result of swaggering around the world like a cowboy with a credit card. I think in Texas they call that "all hat and no cattle".

(Not) Playing 'Possum

Yesterday was a hot day in Southern Indiana. When I left work just before 5 o’clock, the thermometer in my car said 101 degrees. That was artificially high – the car had been sitting in the sun all day. By the time I got home 10 minutes later, it was reading 93 degrees. That was a much more accurate reading.

Now summer heat is a relative thing. For the 15 years we lived in Memphis, a 90 degree day was nothing unusual…unless it occurred in April. Here in Indiana, though, it’s a different story. Last summer we did not have one day where the temperature reached 90. This year, we’ve already had a handful…with more on the way.

While in Memphis, I developed a summer survival skill - I refused to complain about the heat. I figured that complaining did nothing to lower the temperature and only raised my awareness of how uncomfortable I was. For most of the time we were there, I told people I actually liked the hot weather. (In hindsight, this may have been the cause of some the the suspicious sideways looks I got from many of my acquaintances.)

After nearly 7 years in Indiana, I still don’t complain about the heat. I like the climate here. We have four complete seasons. In the fall the foliage is usually spectacular, especially in nearby Brown County. Most winters we get enough snow to enjoy the holidays. (Granted, this last winter was the extreme case.) This year’s spring was a roller coaster – very warm in April, then cool through May and into June. Summer seems to start suddenly – we go from cool, pleasant days to HOT almost overnight.

But it’s nothing to complain about.

So yesterday we got home after another mind-numbing week at work. I sat inside for a few minutes and checked emails til Mary got home. Despite the heat, we both ended up outside. After being cooped up in our respective offices all week, it felt pretty good to piddle around in the yard for awhile. Mary watered her gardens and trimmed the roses.


One of Mary's beautiful roses. 

I got out the rake and worked at de-thatching the front lawn. I had no illusions about doing the whole thing…just wanted to get a start. It was also a very restful, almost meditative, thing to do – repetitive and mindless in the sense that it required no conscious thought, yet occupied the mind enough to push out all thought of work, deadlines, and meetings.

After 20 minutes or so, I had done a couple passes down the side yard, and had several piles of dead grass to mark my progress. Mary came around and told me to clean up and move out, so she could start the sprinkler. I’d had enough meditation, so I did as instructed. I filled a trash can with the dead grass and carried it around to the compost pile in the back yard. I dumped the grass and turned back to the house, idly thinking of sipping a gin-and-tonic on the back porch while the world cooled off into evening.

As I passed by the corner of the back porch, I was jolted out of my reverie by the sight of an unexpected guest.


An unexpected visitor. 

I don’t know where this critter came from…and I’m sure he must have been wondering “how the heck did I get here?!” I yelled at Mary to come take a look, then ran in for the camera. I kept my distance, not certain of how fast a startled ‘possum could move. (In the back of my mind I was reviewing all the data I had about ‘possums – 100% of it involved memories of dead ones on the side of the road. Not much evidence of agility or speed, but I wasn’t going to take any chances, especially since I saw him raise up and arch his back as I approached. How far could a ‘possum jump?)

We eyed each other for a few minutes. He made no effort to leave the porch. It was, after all, the end of a long, hot Friday. Mary and I left him on the ledge and went in for the gin-and-tonic. Periodically throughout the evening we looked out to see if “Peter Possum” was still around. He was always in the same spot. Around 9pm we saw him, then went out front to turn off the sprinklers. When we looked again, he was gone.

We walked around the yard, shining a flashlight into the bushes, but didn’t see him again. I guess ‘possums can move pretty quick after all.

Remembering Daisy

It's only Tuesday, but it's been a tough week under the Roof. On Monday afternoon we had Daisy put to sleep.


Relaxing in the kitchen. 

Daisy first came to live with us at Christmas time in 1989. We were celebrating our first Christmas in a new home in Memphis. The kids were all in school, and Mary and I spent several days searching all over West Tennessee for a cocker spaniel puppy.

After what seemed like an endless string of fruitless phone calls, we got connected with a family 50 miles outside of Memphis who had an 8 week old parti-colored female. I agreed to buy her sight unseen, and to meet them in the parking lot of a McDonald's at a specified time on Sunday evening. This coincided with the annual Christmas Eve service at our church, and we concocted an elaborate story involving a family friend, a flat tire, and an immediate need for help that would allow me to excuse myself from the family for a couple of hours. I drove to the rendezvous point in my MGB convertible with a failing clutch and weak headlights. At one point I got pulled over by the state police for going too slow on the Interstate.

I found the seller in the parking lot, as agreed, and quickly made the transaction. It was completed quickly, under the street lamp, with few words and a swift exchange of cash and small furry bundle. It seemed more like a drug deal than buying a pet. I could tell I was buying a dog, but little else. The sellers promised to send the AKC papers later. Being young and anxious, I believed them.

The puppy slept soundly during the cold ride home, bundled up in a blanket on the passenger seat. I arrived home after the rest of the family, and tucked the sleeping puppy under my coat. I entered the house and answered the questions about our stranded friend, then told the kids to come into the den. I can't recall what exactly I said, but remember lots of delighted screaming as the puppy emerged from my coat.

Daisy grew up with our kids, especially Will. She ran with him in the yard and around the neighborhood. If there was a pack of kids racing through the yard, Daisy would be in the middle of it, happily nipping at Will's heels.

She was the third, and smartest, cocker spaniel we have owned. Mary delighted in teaching her new tricks. Daisy could balance a dog biscuit on her nose, pensively waiting for the command "SIC IT!" that allowed her to flip it in the air and catch it on the way down. She could roll over, shake hands, and "speak" on command. The most elaborate trick they learned was a political joke. Mary would point a finger, like a gun, at Daisy and ask loudly, "Would you rather be a dead dog or a Republican?" Daisy would flatten herself on the floor, in her best Democratic pose.

In her later years, Daisy endured Mary's interest in costuming.


Do I have to wear this silly outfit? 

As smart as she was, Daisy was a mediocre watchdog. A stranger could come into the house unannounced, and she would just as likely wag her tail and pee on the floor as bark at him. But every afternoon when I arrived home from work, she would howl and bark like she had never seen me. I suppose she was just greeting me enthusiastically.

The years since have flown by. The kids are grown. Two have graduated from college and moved on. Will is now 18 and college-bound in the fall. Daisy grew up with them, and grew old before them. She lost her hearing about two years ago. We noticed it gradually. At first, we would be inside the house for several minutes before she would hear us and come out of whatever room she was sleeping in, looking slightly embarrassed. Later, we would have to wake her to let her know we were home.

In the last year and a half, her health declined even further. First her eyes went, becoming increasingly cloudy. Her sense of smell seemed to decrease, making it harder to find the biscuits dropped at her feet. She slept most of the day, and emerged ever more slowly and unsteadily. Her kidneys failed her.

Sadly, it was time. We made one appointment at the vet, then cancelled it when we thought there was improvement. We went another two months, then found her sitting disoriented in the dining room one afternoon. We made another appointment, and agreed that we would not cancel again.

Monday noon came and our appetites waned. The appointment was for 1:30pm. Mary fed Daisy some extra treats - a hamburger for breakfast, some ham at lunch, extra biscuits. We drove to the vet's office, Daisy in Mary's car with all the windows down, the spring air blowing across her nose stuck prominently out of the rear window. They walked around the yard outside the office while I attended to the paperwork. Then it was time.

It was mercifully quick for Daisy, but interminable for us. We swung at opposite ends of the spectrum - Mary weeping quietly until the final moment, while I stood stoic. Me dissolving in tears as I saw her lifeless on the table, while Mary felt a wash of relief. (We have lived together for nearly 30 years and have managed a dynamic balance - only one of us gets to be crazy at a time.)

Today the house feels empty. We are happy that Daisy is out of her misery, and was able to go out with some dignity. But we miss our puppy. I trust that soon the empty spot will slowly be filled with good memories, of a happy dog chasing dirt clods pitched in the garden and kids in the front yard.

Two Old Pals:

Two old pals. 

Cowgirl Daisy:

Cowgirl Daisy in full costume. 

Talking Ourselves Into Another War?

Today's Top Story:
At the time of this posting, 1485 US soldiers have died in Iraq.
Source: http://icasualties.org/oif/

(Why is this "The Top Story"?

1. Each of these soldiers died in a war that was initiated by a President who intentionally misled the American people about the reasons for war in Iraq, (and
2. Like Gen. Anthony Zinni, I believe that this has got to be more important than "American Idol").

Today's Feature: Talking Ourselves Into Another War?

It's been awhile since I did a posting. My last one did not include the casualty statistics. After the election in Iraq, I was cautiously hopeful. (Unlike my sense after the election in America...) I wanted to believe that progress was being made. That maybe a good end result was possible. I heard Bill Maher on NPR's "Fresh Air" on February 8 talking about how we react to news about Bush & Co. His point...and I'm going to butcher it...was that we cannot listen to any news about Iraq, the administration, etc. and immediately try to figure out why we disagree. Sometimes we have to recognize that there are good outcomes, and we need to support these. We have to be smart enough to separate the positive events in the world from the political agendas that might have influenced them.

A very challenging point of view, but one I'm trying to adopt.

Now tell that to Mary, who had to listen to one of the longest streams of profanity I have ever uttered as I listened to the NBC Nightly News tonight. The story centered on how Iran has become our "enemy" and how President Bush was in Europe rounding up support for this position.

Did I miss something important? When did Iran become our "enemy"? (I'm obviously ignoring the "Axis of Evil" comments from the past. This might be a big mistake.)

Are we at odds with Iran on a number of issues? Yes. Would we prefer that they do not develop nuclear weapons? Absolutely.

But the rhetoric being used today, even by Brian Williams on the Nightly News, suggests that we are about to repeat the collective rethinking we did before the invasion of Iraq. We literally talked ourselves into that war. The politicians drove it. The media bought it. Colin Powell sold it at the UN. "Weapons of mass destruction" became the mantra...and the justification...even though they didn't exist!

If you tell the lie enough times, people will believe it. The march to Iraq proved it. Maybe some good will become of that effort. I remain hopeful and optimistic. (Read "pollyanna"?) But I'm also suspicious of the political/media machine. We haven't yet absorbed the cost (financial and human) of our excursion into Iraq. Why do we need to pick the next fight already?

Pay close attention to the news reports for the next 3 months. I'll bet you twenty dollars that we'll hear more and more about what a "grave threat to the national security" Iran represents. We'll hear George Bush and Dick Cheney and Condoleeza Rice opine about the "moolahs" and the "nucular" weapons. I'll bet we'll see the national threat warning level (whatever it's called) raised and some more news about "non-specific Interet chatter" that implies an imminent threat to our national security.

Our national leaders will promote an invasion of Iran, and our media will fall in line, looking for headlines and an opportunity to score an exclusive interview.

Here's the only scenario I can imagine where I would support an invasion of Iran: The US military forces crossing the Iran border are led by new recruits Jenna and Barbara Bush (G-dub's twin daughters) and our forces follow the troops deployed by France and Germany.