Acorn Bombardier

I've started to take Coca Bear on my morning walks.  It helps her with her stress levels, as she is getting more anxious as she ages.  It used to be that she would get nervous whenever it rained and try to get in our bedroom, toss dog beds, and clothing.  She would gnaw at the doorknob, tearing it up and causing her mouth to bleed, so we put a tennis ball on the doorknob.  She still can get it in, but it doesn't hurt her mouth.  It has now grown to be that she does anytime both Alison and I are gone.

The walks have helped a little bit.  It certainly hasn't hurt her.  The walk is pretty steady, except for an occasional pitstop.  At first, I wasn't bringing "pick up bags," but I've learned that lesson.  She doesn't have a problem leaving surprises not just in people's yards, but also in the middle of the road.  She needs to let people and animals know that "Cocoa Bear was here." I fight to prevent that message.

On the way back, over a block away from our house, I heard these thuds and pings, like little bombs, or large pieces of hail.  What house was so noisy?

It was our house.  We have a large oak tree in our back yard, and it spends a lot of the Fall and Early Winter shedding acorns all over our back yard.  Many of them hit our metal roof, making it sound like our house is always under siege.  Alison thinks it's one of the things contributing to Cocoa Bear's nervous, the military-like barrage striking the metal roof, then rolling down into our backyard.

Limbs periodically fall off this mighty oak.  That's a real thud when they hit.  One punched a hole in the top of our screened-in porch.  That was fun to fix.

Squirrels are attracted to our yard.  This creates a lot of entertainment for our dogs. They don't really catch the squirrels.  I don't know if they would know what to do with them if they did.  But it does provide exercise for all involved.

There is a hole in the tree near the base.  I think the hole is growing deeper, but I am not sure.  I am not sure of the overall health of the tree,  I think it's ok.  I'm sure it's one of those types of trees that have been there for a very, very long time.  I'm pretty sure it's the largest tree in our neighborhood.  We may get somebody to look at it, someone who can make an honest assessment, and not just have the ulterior motive of earning a lot of money to chop it down.

For now, we put up with our acorn bombardier and the occasional fallen limb.  It is a pretty tree.  It is a mighty tree. 

And when Cocoa Bear and I go for walks, we don't have to worry about getting lost.  We can follow the sound of the acorn explosions until we reach home again.

Blue & Red Country: Saturday Political Soap Box 229

This is something I posted directly to Facebook.  That was unusual in that I don't usually post anything that long.  If it's that long, I would post it on my blog, and have people see it there.

It's frustrating.  Over 20 people posted reactions to it (like, love, anger, etc.), and there were nine comments.  Doesn't sound like many?  Contrast that with the usual reaction to my blog entries - maybe zero to three likes, if I'm lucky one comment.

I guess trying to bring people to greater blog participation is another way I tilt at windmills.

Nevertheless, I persist.

Anyhoo, here is the direct post I made.  Additional comments or clarification are in normal size type (like this).


My son, Benjamin, was an early huge fan of Barack Obama. He chose the part of Barack Obama at his elementary school's Wax Museum. He used in his speech one of his favorite lines of Obama's - "There are no blue states. There are no red states. There is only the United States of America." Sadly, ten years later, I have come to the heartbreaking conclusion that my son and Obama were wrong.

This happened in the spring of 2009.  To the best of my recollection, Benjamin was in third grade.  He played it straight, with no makeup or accent.  He just wore a suit and was behind a podium.

Benjamin was the first in my family to support Barack Obama. Eventually, support from my family (parents, sister, etc.) was universal.  My father was very big on him.  My mother was very worried in late October 2008 that Obama might lose.  She had early voted by absentee ballot.  She had to go to the hospital for a health problem, and I talked to her by phone from there.  I reassured her that Obama was going to win, that Colin Powell had endorsed him, and events were favoring Obama.  She worried that if something happened to her before the election, her absentee vote wouldn't count.  I thought that was a strange worry, but I told her that I thought that it would.  That was the last conversation I had with her.  She died later that day.

There is a blue country. There is a red country. The blue is imperfect, but it does believe in factual reality. The red country has many decent people, but it believes in an alternate fantasy, one that is distant from democratic values. Nothing the blue country does can wake up the red country to the damage they are causing.

And despite media reports to the contrary, those countries are mixed.  Even living in a county that voted 87% for Trump, I still find blue country people.  It's not easy for us, but we exist.

While our friends, at work or at church or other organizations, get to shoot off their mouths about anything they want, us blue countriers have to be cautious about everything we say.

It may seem like I am very bold and forthright with my opinions, but that is in print.  In-person, I tend not to discuss unless confronted., or I am with a group of like-minded people.

Watching the United Kingdom sink further towards hate and nationalism, seeing the Judiciary Committee Republicans spin crap and lies while holding firm against any sense of reason, is making me lose all hope for the future.

The United Kingdom vote has given fire to corporate Democrats, who blame the considerable Labour loss on Labour trying to be too Progressive.  That kind of transference is a horrible and fatal mistake and one that would take several blog posts to refute in full.

The effects of the UK vote, whatever its cause, is going to be horrific and devastating.  

I will not stop tilting at windmills, but I confess, I am growing depressed and weary. I see fewer and fewer ways out of this. I had not wanted to live in a time like the 30s, where the dark clouds of authoritarian fascism threatened the planet, but I now realize that once again, that is the time we are in. I'm not sure how we're getting out of this.

The Judiciary Committee has voted two articles of impeachment against President Donald J Trump, on a party-line vote.  When it comes to the floor, there may be a tiny handful of Democrats that vote against it, while Republicans are likely to remain united in opposition.  The trial in the Senate not only is almost 100% certain to favor Trump, but it is also expected to be a sham trial with McConnell already stating THAT IT WILL BE SO.

Does that make the Impeachment wrong and partisan?

HELL NO!

He used the power of his office to try to extort a country to provide something he could use against a political opponent.  He withheld military aid contrary to US policy and jeopardized the lives of our ally, the Ukrainians.  He put HIS interests ahead of the US interests.  He refused to participate in the impeachment inquiry, blocking White House representatives and Cabinet officials from participating.  He would not turn over any documents.  He set himself up as tyrannical King rather than a President subject to Congressional oversight.  He publicly confessed his guilt, as did his Chief of Staff/OMB director, Nick Mulvany.

The fact that no Republican is supporting this says a lot more about the Republican Party than the Democratic Party.

They choose Trump over the country.

They choose lies over the truth.

They choose the restoration of monarchy and fascism over the constitution and a  participatory republic.

Sorry, red country.  I know many of you are decent people.  But you are making the mistake of your lives supporting this monster, and history will not view you kindly.

Not kindly at all.

Rains Upon the Kingdom: Friday Flash Fiction

The rains will not stop.

All across the Kingdom, the floodwaters rise.

Some people have some small boats.  The few with yachts have already left.  There is no Noah.

KIng Franklin was just on the air. Well, most could no longer access their TVs, but they heard him on the radios or saw via their phones.  The internet that remained was limited and highly restricted in content, but it sure was available for government propaganda.

Fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, loyal citizens of The Kingdom, the rains that deluge our promised land will soon dissipate.  This is what our weather diviners tell us, and the power of our prayer will make it so.

Until then, the love of God protect us all.  Seek the highest ground you can.  Listen to the radio or your phone for bulletins, and the nearest location of assistance from the Kingdom's Guards.  They are setting up shelters across the breadth of the Kingdom.  No matter how dire it seems, you are not far from those who love you and strive to keep you safe.

As for the foul rumors you may hear emanating from insurrectionists and heathens, or those from lands outside the Kingdom, the rains are not caused by global warming.  Is that not a ridiculous notion?  If the world was warming, would that not cause the rains to evaporate?  We have proved over and over that any extreme weather we experience is simply a natural phenomenon, a reflection of the will of God.

The best solution is to pray.  The quickest route to the ceasing of the rain is to get right with God.  Too many of us have been slack.  Too many of us have backslid to old and dangerous ways of thinking.  Too many have been questioning of the wisdom and principles of the Kingdom.

This must stop.  If you know of those whose spirit is damaging the Kingdom, please let your pastor know, or someone from the Kingdom Guard.

May God bless you with the riches of the Kingdom.  May God see you through this storm.

Many prayed.  Some drowned.  A multitude lost their homes and possessions.

The rains continued.  They would continue for forty days and forty nights.

And then we will see what is left.

Emergency Sausage Pie Delivery!

Emergency!

Call 9-1-Parents! 

Benjamin starts finals week ON HIS BIRTHDAY!

What are parents to do?

Every Christmas morning, He gets his favorite food all year - sausage pie made with sausage and cream cheese, with crescent roll sheets on top and bottom.

But this year, we thought we would surprise him early.

We got up at 4:30 in the morning, and after some food prep, were on our way to Milledgeville joust before 6.  A little after 9, we were parked outside of his dorm.

Mom called him no answer.  Dad texted him.  No answer.

Then, after answering my text, he called his Mom.

Mom:  Would you like sausage pie this morning?

Benjamin: uhhhhh....yes?

Mom:  Would you meet us at the dorm's front door and let us in?

Benjamin:  uhhhhh...ok?

A very shocked young man let us in.  We used a dorm kitchen facility to finish the sausage pie, and also had a big container of his favorite brownies.  We even brought a bottle of mustard, because what is sausage pie without a little mustard?

We spent some time together, walking around campus, getting some coffee at his favorite coffee place, Blackbird Coffee.  Dad & son even visited a shop that had some comic books.  It had a few books, but not many.  Milledgeville's biggest lack is that it does not have a decent bookstore near campus.

We even found Santa!  Thankfully, it wasn't the MAGA Santa that roamed the Mall and Blackshear Elementary.  Yes, we had a Santa here that thought it would be cool to wear a Trump hat.  I'm pretty sure that had Benjamin been in elementary school, he would have knocked that hat right off that fool. 

It was a brief visit, but a pleasant and genuine surprise for Benjamin.


In just another day or two, Benjamin will be home for Christmas Break.  Will we still have sausage pie on Christmas morning? 

Oh, you bet your sweet crescent roll we will!

Pet Cavalcade

Oh, yes we do!  We have a household full of loving pets!

Above is our lone kitty. Skitty.  She is a Hemmingway cat that Alison rescued as a kitten.  She was from a litter of cats that I would call feral, adapted from a co-worker who had them just in her yard.

Skitty is 12 years old.  She is the lazy cat poster child but is also very close to Benjamin. She looks very much forward to Benjamin returning for Christmas break.  At least, we think she does.  Sometimes with cats, it's hard to tell.

This is Cocoa Bear.  We rescued her via an online pet rescue site, going all the way up to Chattanooga to get her.  She was promoted as being a mix between Dachshund and King Cavalier Spaniel.

I saw the litter she came from (the puppies, not the parents).  She definitely is part Dachshund, but the Spaniel part?  Given her size, I think it is some other kind of spaniel.  

She is energetic and friendly, although occasionally shy.  She likes to go inside and then outside, over and over again, all day long.

Cocoa Bear is 11.

Ellie Mae was rescued via a local couple who have done so much for animals in our area, Rick and Nancy Allmon.  Ellie came to visit us one weekend and never went back.

I have never had a dog as sweet, particularly with people. She is a mix, just guessing that the most prominent is chihuahua and dachshund.  It doesn't matter to her.  It doesn't matter to us.

Rescued as an adult, we are unsure of her age,  Her coat has whitened considerably in the last few years.  It's hard to tell if she has slowed down because she never was a high energy dog.

Our best age estimate is between 12 and 18.

Pixie Dust was our first foster, and our first foster failure.  When I was told that this sweet but shivery girl would be transported for adoption in Canada, I said no way!  We were keeping her.

She loves our family, but she mostly loves her Mama.  She is almost always by Alison's side and gets anxious when Alison leaves.  She is a mix, mostly chihuahua, I would guess.  You wouldn't think a little dog like that would shed so much, but holy shedolies!  She sure does.  Alison often goes to work coated in pixie dust!

Another adult rescue, my best guess for her age is between 7 & 10.

Boss-A-Man was our most recent foster, and our second foster failure.  He had several challenges when we began fostering him, having lived with almost a dozen other small dogs with two ladies who lived in a van under a bridge.  We were concerned that others might not have the patience to nurse him back to health.

We adopted at the same time I became semi-retired, so he's like my retirement dog. We spend a lot of time together, and I love him to pieces.

What is he?  Who knows?  I see chihuahua, pomeranian, and papillon.  He is all love and affection.  What more do I need to know?

How old is he?  Another mystery.  The vet guessed at the time we got him that he might be 10, which would make him 12 now.  I'm less sure that he is that old.  He was in rough shape when we got him.  He had been through so much.

So my guess is between 6 and 10.

All I know for sure is that I will cherish every minute with him.

She Made Dreams Come True

I had a dream.  A dream that I could be a writer, a dream that I could find and fuel a writer's guild here in our small corner of southeast Georgia.

She made my dreams come true.

Inspired by the support of my friend, Okefenokee Heritage Center Director Steve Bean, I started the Okefenokee Heritage Center Writer's Guild.  We started with more people than I anticipated.  Still, it was nervy that year to begin the Okefenokee Heritage Center's Writing Contest.

You never know what might be inspired by a writing contest.  Steve told me of a woman at Baptist Village who had wanted to submit a poem but was concerned about the format she had to submit it in.  He helped her type it up and got it ready for submission.

That poem, My Life in Rhymes, won in the poetry division.  She came out to our awards banquet, and this wonderful, charming, 85-year-old woman received her prize.

I fund that she had inspired to write in recent years, and was building up a coterie of poems, short stories, and reminisces.  They were all wonderful, folksy and heartwarming, revealing how different daily life may have been, but the one great universal truth was family, friends, and love.


She expressed an interest in attending her our monthly meetings but had no transportation from Baptist Village. I could solve that.  For the next five years, I brought her each month to the Heritage Center.

Grace Lee meant so much to me.  Her writings were an inspiration.  She had a wonderful spirit and a beautiful connection to people and events.  Her writing style often reminded me of Mark Twain.  There was a truth and decency that permeated her works.

She inspired me, starting to write at 85.  I had often felt like it was too late for me, that I let that ship sail by.  No, I have not had the success that I wanted.  But I do love to write and to share it with whoever is willing to read it.  She helped me understand that it was never too late to pursue your dreams.

Like many in my age range, my own parents had passed, my mother in 2008, and my father in 2013.  I miss them every day.  But Grace helped with that.  My father was like Grace, raised on a farm, and an educator, a sweet-natured man that was kind to all. He also wrote about his family and growing up - I have a half dozen binders filled with his stories and genealogical research, going back 13 generations.  Spending time with Grace was like getting extra time with my father and the world he came from.  Both lived to be 91, Grace passing December 2nd.  Both struggled with mobility issues in their final years. Both remained loving and kind, filled with stories and humor.

Time with Grace was a very special time for me.  Picking her up, and talking with her in the car, and at meetings, was always filled with lively and intelligent talk.  Her memory of events and people was stronger than mine.  I enjoyed spending time visiting her at Baptist Village, something that I did not so often enough. I am ashamed that I saw her very little in the last few months.  We get so busy sometimes, we forget the truly important things in life.

She helped make my dream of a Writer's Guild come true.  She inspired my dreams of being a writer.  She connected me to dreams of my parents.

Those dreams, and my memory of her and how she touched my life, will live on.  I will continue to share her stories. 

She is with Jesus now, with her loving husband and other family members that have passed.  She is with my mother and father, looking down with love and caring, inspiring us, keeping our dreams alive.

I love you, Grace Lee, for inspiring my dreams, for being my friend, for your unconditional love and support.  I will always cherish you.

Advent Falls Monday Musings

Now we are at Advent.

Advent time of year!

The first Sunday of Advent was yesterday.  Advent covers four Sundays.  Above is one version of the four candle display used in our church to represent each Sunday. An additional candle is lighted each Sunday until all four are lit on the last Sunday of Advent.

It is a season of reflection and preparation for the arrival of Jesus and Christmas.

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This year, the day after Advent, Fall finally Falls!  The projected high today is a very pleasant 56, well within the range of temps that make me feel like it is Fall.  It will not last.  Low to mid-70s will return by the weekend.  That might not sound too high to you, nut it is enough to make the gnats dance again, and enough to make going outside unpleasant.  But we may finally be headed to where Fall-like days outnumber the late Summer-like days.

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My expectations were too high.  Once again, OSU crushes Michigan.  There were moments where it looked like it might be competitive, but they did not last, and eventually turned into just another old-fashioned beat down.

The Bulldogs have done very well this season, and only have to win the SEC championship against LSU to ensure their place in the college championships.  A simple task, I am sure.

I sm pulling for Wisconsin to upset Ohio State.  I'd rather the Big Ten not have a representative in the college championship than it be OSU.

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What am I watching?  A lot of stuff.  Castle Rock (shades of Misery and Salem's Lot!), The Dublin Murders (since we spent a ten-day vacation in Ireland we know think of it as our second home), The Purge, Servant (an Apple + series by M. Night Shamallayn), and, of course, the best current program available, the show with best editorial coloring in the business, For All Mankind.

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What am I reading?  Testaments by Margaret Atwood, the follow-up to The Handmaid's Tale.  End the mystery about what a Pence administration would be like and read it today!

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We had Benjamin with us from Tuesday night until Sunday afternoon.  It was a great visit, and it won't be long before he is back home for Christmas bock - only about two weeks!

Until next time,

T. M. Strait