Wordless Wednesday & Project Green: Woodchucks, Birds, Moons & A Stray Cat

Happy Wordless Wednesday & Happy Project Green

Project Green: Take 2

Well, I've been struggling about what to post today and I think I'm going with Anna Carson's Project Green. I feel so outclassed by the amazing photographers who participate in this, but it's earth day and I don't much feel like writing anything, so...

I have to say that I'm really not enjoying the changes in the posting system that have been instituted lately. It has taken me almost an hour - something like 13 tries - to get my first photo uploaded. Now I'm having the same problem with #2. Aggggh. I wanted to add a third photo... on the theory, I guess, that two or three mediocre photos add up to one good one, but it will be next Tuesday by the time I get another one to upload, so I'm just going to leave it at this and feel cranky and deprived.

"Happy Earth Day," she snarled.

Project Looking Through

The magnificent, witty and talented Dianne at Forks Off the Moment has been participating in something called Project Looking Through hosted by Mark, whose blog is called Regular Life.

I thought I'd participate too. I feel a bit guilty because this project favors Angel who spends much of her life "looking through" and dreaming about what's on the other side. Tara Grace who lived long and hard on the other side can't see very well as a result of days out in the big world. She glances out from time to time, but she would rather sleep or circle the room yelling at me than waste her time peering out windows and doors.

The Alphabet Backwards: S is for Spring

Well, it's the Monday, Alphabet Backwards day, day of dread most weeks, but apparently my psyche has decided to cut me some slack this week and we are thinking of happy uncomplicated words. In fact I think I'm going to keep it simple and just pick one happy, angst free word today. Spring.

Spring has sprung here in Hancock. The robins are running around, there are flickers and woodpeckers and sparrows. There are daffodils and forsythia. The trees are not in blossom yet, by and large, but you can see the leaves and flowers coming. And it's greener. The grass has taken on life again. My spirit has breathed a sigh of relief and joy. Angel is happy too. We've had a few days warm enough for open windows and her world has expanded with smells that I'm sure are beyond my nose's puny capacity to interpret or even notice. Angel kitty may still be inside, but she is one step closer to her life dream. She is a happy kitty and that makes me a happy human. Tara could care less. She has done outdoors. She has no desire to do it again.

I love the layers of color that are part of Spring and that everything seems sort of surprising even though we are expecting it and watching for it. Spring is soft, somehow. Dramatic and subtle at the same time.

Then there are the sounds of Spring too. Right now, even though I can't see it - darn - I can hear a cardinal singing in the distance... while other, less melodic birds chirp an accompanying chorus.



I think that's all I have to say today. I'll keep it short and add some photos and a "Spring poem."



SPRING

Sweet, soft, subtle
There's renewal just in watching
The hidden depths of trees
Slip quietly from their winter shells
The green grass rising like a gentle tide
Daffodils and croci surfacing for air
While winged and furred and crawly things
Celebrate
A living painting
Evolving to perfection




And that's the letter S. Happy Monday.

One Single Impression: Color

The prompt from One Single Impression this week was color. I'm trying to break the habit of apologizing when I post stuff. I realize that saying that I'm not apologizing is a covert way of doing so. It's a process. I'm tapering off. For some reason I couldn't change the text
colors this week.... when I was going for rainbow colors. Aggggghhhhh! Oh - you'll probably figure this out for yourself. The pictures are about the color, not so much the text.








radiant rainbow arch
curved across the distant sky
shimmering beauty










radiant crimson
color of blood, of roses
gore and beauty both










glowing rich orange
fruits, flowers and neon glow
you have many moods










sunshine and lemons
yellow is flowers and sun
morning light begun









green of grass and trees
rippling in a summer breeze
rich, cool, lush with life







azure skies and oceans
color of my lovers eyes
shining, sparkling blue









rich, dark Indigo
bridging blue and purple hue
delighting the eye









delicate flowers
violets, iris, rich orchids
you are rainbow's end










then there's dusky pink
color of the heart chakra
color of true love


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I hope you will all take a minute to remember that this is Autism Awareness Month. The following blogs and posts offer an opportunity to put a human face and heart on something which for most of us is just something we have heard about but don't really understand.

These are the Days
Forks Off the Moment - We are All Unique
Mother of Shrek
Full Soul Ahead
Down River Drivel
Look Me In The Eye

Some Saturday Afternoon Politics

Ran across these items and thought they were worth sharing. I SOOOOO want Mr. Bush and Mr. Cheney impeached. Better late than never. Better in jail than in office.

This first one discusses a way to force the impeachment issue by by-passing the House of Representatives. Very interesting.



This is a great speech from Boston Legal.



And a little Dennis Kucinich because any day with Dennis K. in it is a good day. I wish he were more right about the American people.

I also recommend checking out a brilliant woman named Raine Eisler. You can listen to some of her radio clips here. She talks Social Economics and changing the way we view economical issues. She has a lot to say. Here's her website too.

I hope this country wakes up before there's no democracy left to save.

Saturday Wordzzle Challenge: Week 9

Well, I think I'm going to post on Friday evenings from now on because I realized that some of our participants are in time zones where it's already Saturday so I might as well give them a little more time - and it means people can post as soon as they are ready.

Since this is week 9 - can you believe that! - of our challenge, I'm going to just get right down to it without any introduction.

The words for this week's ten word challenge were: cocker spaniel, penultimate, fetters, warranty, tarmac, quartz, paparazzi, apple sauce, earsplitting, laxidaisical (my apologies for spelling this so badly it should have read: lackadaisical) And for the Mini Challenge: spinach, interwoven, compromise, tennis, intangible

Here's my ten-word offering for this week.

Applesauce was not just any cocker spaniel. He was a world champion and normally his was a mellow and lackadaisical approach to life. Every dog, however has his day and between the swarming paparazzi, the ear-splitting noise of the jet engines he panicked, broke free of the not very sturdy fetters that bound him to his trainer's control and made a dash for it, knocking over one of the swarming photographers in his desperate flight across the tarmac. "Damned stupid dog broke the quartz on my watch and the warranty is expired. I should sue," she muttered to herself. But Applesauce was not a champion for nothing and as if sensing the photographer's thoughts, pulled out of his panic, and returned to gently nuzzle her hand and then pose as nice as could be, giving her the penultimate prize - a personal interview/photo session with a movie star would have been better - and boosting her career to a new level. A week later, she happily bought a new watch and put a deposit on her new car with the profits. Better yet, the whole event made her famous and she got invited to be a guest on The Ellen Show and meet one of her very favorite stars. "Awesome dog," she smiled to herself, looking at the framed photo that hung on her wall. "Awesome dog."

And here's my mini challenge:

Marsha sat looking at the interwoven strings of her new tennis racket. For most people, she supposed it was just a thing, but to her, it had an intangible beauty that only those who loved the game as utterly as she did could know. She had briefly thought to compromise on a somewhat less less expensive implement, but had decided that it was worth any sacrifice she might have to make in other ways to have this particular racket. That said, living on a diet of home-grown tomatoes and spinach was beginning to lose it's poetic beauty now that two weeks had passed. But tomorrow she reminded herself, she and her treasure would set foot on the court. And they would win. Yes, she thought, she had made the right decision.

This is what I came up with for the mega challenge:

Alas, there are no warranties on priceless, one-of-a-kind objects. It had been the penultimate tennis racket, its curved wooden edges and its delicately interwoven strings making it a virtual work of art. Something about it's grip, it's design, made her feel victorious even before she stepped onto the tarmac of the tennis court for her matches. It held a place of honor in her home when she was not competing, sitting proudly between the large quartz sculpture, oddly named "Intangible" that had been given to her by the equally oddly named artist who called himself - God knows why - "Spinach" and an original Picasso. On this particular December day, those on the tour of Glenda Nelson's house would never forget the ear-splitting screams as the usually mellow, even lackadaisical player, walked in upon her young niece's cocker spaniel, Applesauce, who had somehow broken free of his fetters and decided to feast on the beloved racket. "Out, out, out!" she shrieked in a decidedly un-mellow voice. "There will be no compromise this time, dog! Wagging your tail will not help!" As if the event was not bad enough it itself, several enterprising paparazzi wanna be's, snapped half a dozen photos of the racket, the offending dog, and her melt down. Worse yet, there was video and she would be forced to watch the tragic scene over and over on TV for weeks and years to come.

This week's vanity contribution is a mini wordzzle and uses the words: sweater, voluptuous, diaper, the Devil, macaroni

When she had asked the Devil to make her look voluptuous in a sweater, Gertrude Glitch had not been thinking in terms of a dozen babies, milk-swelled breasts, and a life of dirty diapers and macaroni suppers. She had intended something more glamorous. It's not fair, God, not fair! But then she looked at the sleeping baby in her arms and thought that maybe, just this once, the Devil had slipped up.

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Anyone who wants to emulate the amazing megawordzzlers can try merging both challenges and make another megawordzzle. It's fun! I'm so glad that Jay Simser invented it. As if megawordzzles weren't enough - it seems to be a guy thing - some participants are adding extra layers of difficulty. Jay incorporates pet salamanders into his paragraph every week, The Pirate not only got all the words in, but he used them in order.

Next weeks words are again a mix of suggestions that came from The Pirate, Michael, Richard, and the Teach and a few from me. I would love to have more suggestions for words/phrases from other participants.

Next Week's Ten Word Challenge will be: pleasant, flukey, desperation, penumbra, hoarsely, triumph, burden, colander, Kermit the Frog, lavender

And for the Mini Challenge: avalanche, masterpiece, yellow, alligator, thieving


Thanks for playing. For those who are new, here are some guidelines to make the process more fun.

Enjoy! See you next week.

DON'T FORGET TO ADD YOUR NAME TO MR. LINKY!!!!!

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I hope you will all take a minute to remember that this is Autism Awareness Month. The following blogs and posts offer an opportunity to put a human face and heart on something which for most of us is just something we have heard about but don't really understand.

These are the Days
Forks Off the Moment - We are All Unique
Mother of Shrek
Full Soul Ahead
Down River Drivel
Look Me In The Eye

Poem of the Week:Poem for my Mother and Father

I was going to post something different this week but something made me think I should post this one.

My mother and father were born 5 days apart in 1910 and died three months apart in 80 years later, my father in October 1990 and my mother in February of 1991. My mother after an illness that lasted between 15 and 18 years. You'd think I'd know exactly, but I don't. The poem says ten, but it was longer than that. It was a long, long time. I read a number of posts this week about people losing their parents. I guess that's why it feels like this is the time to share this poem. It's a loss we are never ready for.


POEM FOR MY MOTHER AND FATHER - APRIL 25, 1991

I want to bury my parents' ashes
Quietly
In an un-grave
A sweetly flowering tree peacefully renewing the earth
I want sunshine and blue skies and butterflies
And maybe an angel or two
To sing a silent, magic song and hold my hand
I'd like some wildflowers -- yellows and purples
And maybe some blue as well
And a mild, gentle breeze to kiss my cheek
I'd like greenness and laughter,
Some children playing, maybe, to remind me there's renewal
And then I'd like a picnic
Full of laughing and remembering the happy times;
The sad ones too, but gently, with sunlight on them
And maybe we could sing a song or two or share a favorite poem.
These parents are my babies now
And I want to protect them from any more pain
Because their dying wasn't sweet.
Ten years coming, it was long and slow and hard,
Their dying one death, though two events,
My mother, slowly/quickly fading
Body and mind failing in a subtle and coordinated dance
My real Mom disappearing way back,
Spirited away somewhere, herself and not herself
Each sad replica dying in turn,
Replaced by a paler, sadder clone
My father holding on,
Clinging vainly to those rare, cruel flickerings
of who she was once
Clinging too the false hope that he could somehow have her back
Trying to will her with the force of his love
Once more into the fierce, proud, vital soul she once had been
That struggle sometimes costing him the magic that was there
His eyes so focussed on a distant past
That he missed the sweeter moments of the now
Hard not to do it --
So confusing to have someone change so much,
and not change, too
It must have broken his heart; finally did, really...
But what I want to say is:
Her illness had them both
It does, I think, with couples so close
It may be only one body dying, but the lives and souls are joined
And everybody's got the disease
That's why we grieve so hard,
Because our way of being in the world gets lost
We lose each other and we lose ourselves, too
But sometimes, also, we're re-born
And that's scary and joyful and sad
And it's always lonely, because it has to be
Even if you have the best company in the world,
Even if the Universe is giving it's all to push you from the womb,
Still, it's a different universe, even though it's the same
And it's hard to share it
And that's why I'd like to bury my parents ashes quietly
In an un-grave
Because living and dying, alive and dead
We gave and still give birth to each other
And that's a very private thing
It's pain and love and creation all mixed up
And it's awesome
And terrible
And wonderful
And holy
And I don't understand it, but I know it's true
I've lived their death and been reborn
Each and both
Life and death, vastly different but the same
A circle, whole, unbroken and eternal
And that's why I'd like to bury my parents' ashes
Quietly,
A sweetly flowering tree peacefully reminding me
That they're not gone.

- Katherine E. Rabenau

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I hope you will all take a minute to remember that this is Autism Awareness Month. The following blogs and posts offer an opportunity to put a human face and heart on something which for most of us is just something we have heard about but don't really understand.

These are the Days
Forks Off the Moment - We are All Unique
Mother of Shrek
Full Soul Ahead
Down River Drivel
Look Me In The Eye

Picture Fiction Challenge: A Muse By Any Other Name

Ok... I think this is the third monthly Picture Fiction Challenge created by R.E.H. at his Ramblings of a Madman and my second attempt at it. Each month, R.E.H. randomly chooses five photos over at Flickr.com for each of five assigned categories: Character, Setting, Objective, Random Object and an Item. Each photo must be included the story in accordance with its assigned role. I thought this was REALLY hard last month. This month I thought it was REALLY REALLY hard. It was also fun and now that I have posted my own, I can't wait to go read what other participants have come up with. Last time they were all very different from each other and wonderfully creative and entertaining. I recommend that you check it out... and consider joining in next month.

Here are the pictures R.E.H. gave us to work with and their assigned roles.







And here - for better or worse - is my story.

A MUSE BY ANY OTHER NAME
or
Brandy and the Zen Monster

Brandy Wines was tired of being a rock star. She was tired of life in the big city, tired of her walk-up apartment in a so-so part of town, tired of battling her way through bums and crazy people just to get to and from work. She was tired of fighting with her band about where to perform and how much they would get paid. She was tired of road trips and loudness, tired of drinking to fit in.

More than anything, she was tired of the nightmares which had begun filling her nights so that she woke exhausted and baffled and a little bit frightened. Rock stars did not get frightened and Brandy Wines did not like the feeling one bit. She had tried drinking more but the dreams had persisted. So she had tried abstaining completely. That didn't help either. The creepy little monster - it looked like stuffed toy gone mad with a huge mouth and spiky teeth - was there every night almost as soon as she closed her eyes and right before she awakened again. Some nights, it would lumber towards her making viscious cackling noise, getting bigger and bigger with each step. Other nights it would attack while she dreamed she was on stage, remaining small. But it's teeth would turn into fangs and it would nibble at her ankles and torment her, moving in circles around her feet so that she never knew where it was going to bite next, so that she couldn't out-maneouver it. It was exhausting and she had no idea what it meant, but she knew that she couldn't take much more. What made things worse was that she had begun to watch for it when she was performing, to half expect it to dart out from behind the drums and attack her as she leaped and gyrated on the stage. And she was tired down to her bones. Something had to change. She knew that.

Eventually, she got so desperate, she decided to try therapy, much to the scorn of the rest of the band. At first she had almost given in to their mockery, but desperation had won over embarrassment and she was glad that it had, because therapy was helping. Her therapist was wonderful, helping her to quiet her mind and look at the dream from outside her fear. Everyone and everything in her dreams, he had told her was a part of her, so they had to try and figure out what she was trying to tell herself. What was her psyche trying to tell her and what part of her did that strange little monster represent? They tried a variety of gestalt type techniques. You would have thought that being a performer, that would have been right up her alley, but it seemed performing for her was a way of maintaining a mask so she pretty much left the stage when her therapist tried to get her to go into the dream. "Not happening," she replied. Not that she didn't try. It was just too scary. Finally her therapist suggested that she try dialoging with the dream. "Try having a conversation with the monster... just put down what ever comes into your head first. Don't edit, don't second guess. Just go with it." Frankly it had seemed like a stupid idea to Brandy, but she tried it anyway and the result had been nothing short of mind boggling. It went something like this:

Brandy: Hi, may I speak to the toothy little monster in my dream?

Monster: About time, jerk face.

Brandy: About time?

Monster: Well, I've been trying to get your attention for about two years now. You are a hard nut to crack.

Brandy: Well, at least you're a monster with a sense of humor. What is it you've been trying to tell me?

Monster: Oh, now you want to know. What if I don't feel like telling any more?

Brandy: Well, I'm guessing that if you didn't still want to tell me whatever it is, you wouldn't be tormenting me every night.

Monster: Could be. Maybe I'm just mean.

Brandy: Well, you have a sense of humor and you're talking to me, so my instincts tell me that you aren't as mean as I thought you were.

Monster: Ah... this gives me hope

Brandy: Hope about what?

Monster: Hope that I can save you.

Brandy: Save me? Save me from what?

Monster: Yourself.

Brandy: I'm listening.

Monster: About time.

Brandy: I think we covered that.

Monster: Ah, yes we did. I'm just a touch bitter still... and exhausted... It's hard work haunting dreams every night and feeling like you are getting nowhere. I was at my wits end.

Brandy: Well, I was trying to listen...

Monster: No you weren't. You were trying to make me go away.

Brandy: Guess you've got me there. Now that you've got my ear, how about spilling the beans. What was so important that you've been torturing me?

Monster: You're killing yourself. You have to stop what you're doing or you'll die.

Brandy: Killing myself? What are you talking about? I'm the most clean-living rock star in history.

Monster: More than one way to kill yourself. You aren't killing your body self. You're killing your creative self, your spirit self, your inner song-bird.

Brandy: My inner song bird? I sing for a living.

Monster: But it's what you sing. You don't love it any more. In fact you hate it. You run around the stage and scream and jump up and down because it's a habit. You hate it.

Brandy: I don't hate it.

Monster: Don't lie. You haven't loved it for a long time. It bores you.

Brandy: But I need to earn a living.

Monster: You have plenty saved up. Like you said, you are a very clean-living rock star.

Brandy: Well, that won't last me forever.

Monster: Did I say you had to stop living? Did I say you had to sit comatose? I don't think so.

Brandy: Well, what are you suggesting.

Monster: Something quieter. Something softer. Something that expresses your true self.

Brandy: I don't know who my true self is.

Monster: Obviously. If you did, I wouldn't have been chasing you around in your dreams to get your attention.

Brandy: So do you know who my true self is?

Monster: Yes.

Brandy: Well?

Monster: Please, I can't tell you. You have to open your heart to her.

Brandy: What are you? A Zen monster?

Monster: Zen monster? I like that. I think perhaps I am.

Brandy: Can you give me a hint at least, Zen Monster?

Monster: A hint? Hmm. I think perhaps I could do that.

Brandy: I'd appreciate it. Thank you.

Monster: You're welcome.

Brandy: Uh, the hint please...

Monster: Oh, yes, of course... the hint is this: "Look to the goldfinch."

Brandy: God, you ARE a Zen Monster. What the hell does that mean?

Monster: You're on your own now, babe. I've done my part.

Brandy: Does this mean you won't be bothering me any more.

Monster: If you do as I've suggested, I see no need. Don't cross me though. If I come back rested, what you've been through so far will seem quite the cake walk.

Brandy: Well, thank you for talking to me I guess. What on earth does "Look to the Goldfinch" mean?

Monster: You'll figure it out. I have faith in you.

Brandy: You do? Really?

Monster: Really. Mind if I go now? I'm a bit weary and looking forward to some R&R.

Brandy: Well, OK. Thanks again. I guess.

That night, Brandy slept deeply for the first time in a very long time. In her dreams she was sleeping in her bedroom back home in the mountains where she had grown up. Outside the window she heard a voice singing an incredibly beautiful song. The words and melody vibrated through her being. Her dream self rose from it's bed and walked to the window and looked out on a magnificent old tree in full flower. And on its branches singing with as beautiful a voice as legends attributed to the nightingale, sat a goldfinch, small and radiant in the morning sun. As it's song washed over her, Brandy realized that she knew both the words and the melody to the little bird's song. She had written them years back and - fearful of what her band mates might think - had tossed her composition into a box in her closet, along with at least a dozen others. As though reading her thoughts, the little bird seemed to bow to her and, although she knew it was impossible, she thought she saw it look her in the eyes and smile.

She woke the next morning refreshed and at peace for the first time in many years, knowing what she had to do. Even the insensitive clods in her band recognized that something had happened. Before she even opened her mouth to speak, they knew intuitively that she said was leaving the band. When she told them about her dream of moving to the country and finding a home somewhere in the mountains, they couldn't even resent her decision, though it was inconvenient for them because just looking at her peaceful radiant face, they knew she was doing what was right. They didn't even try to change her mind or protest.

Three years later, after her first single folk album, SONGBIRD came out and went gold(finch), they visited her at her mountain retreat and were perhaps a little envious, not of her success, but of the radiant happiness that still glowed from her. Her house was simply and elegantly decorated. There was one odd thing that almost every visitor commented on. It was an strange stuffed creature with a gaping red mouth, big teeth and beady black eyes. When people asked about it - as they often did - she would get an odd little smile on her face and reply. "That? Oh, that's my muse. "

THE END

Comparatively Wordless Wednesday: Looking Out My Back Door

Because I am a home bound agoraphobic who also has physical disability to contend with, my little camera has given me new views of my relatively small world. These are some views from my back door.

Happy Wordless Wednesday!

Couldn't resist adding Credence Clearwater singing "Out My Back Door":

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I hope you will all take a minute to remember that this is Autism Awareness Month. The following blogs and posts offer an opportunity to put a human face and heart on something which for most of us is just something we have heard about but don't really understand.

These are the Days
Forks Off the Moment - We are All Unique
Mother of Shrek
Full Soul Ahead
Down River Drivel
Look Me In The Eye

Heads or Tails Tuesday: A Mini Rant & A Video Clip

My offering today for Skittles' Heads or Tails Tuesday is bitter and angry. The prompt is "tip" or anything that rhymes with tip. This is just the tip of the iceberg of my rage and hurt.



George W. Bush is an evil man who holds my country in his grip
I am angry that he will be allowed to slip through history's door unimpeached
Unpunished for crimes against the US and the world
For crimes against the Constitution and basic human decency

While Congresspersons snip at each other about trivia
Bush and Co. chip away at the Constitution
Chip away at decency
Chip away at human rights
Chip away at help for the poor
Chip away at all that's good

So much lip service to God and patriotism
As we become a people who allow
Other humans to be stripped naked,
tied to a board and fake drowned
While we become a people who make excuses for torture
For ignoring the law
And democracy is flipped the figurative bird

All our hands - not only his
Drip with blood

What does this say about us?
Nothing good.

I also thought I'd share this thought-provoking video clip from The $3 Trillion Shipping Spree:

The Alphabet Backwards: Taxes, Terrific and Thank You

There are so many words that start with T and many "big" themes - time, terrorism, theology - that I wanted to write about. But somehow, it isn't in my heart to do that today. There's so much I have to say about each of those subjects - or at least I think I have something to say - but when I sat down at the keyboard to tackle them, my brain took off for the parts unknown. Perhaps Aruba or Jamaica. I don't know. Not here anyway. Nothing was coming out of my head and I couldn't even force it. I started thinking. Well, "I just won't post today," but for someone like me, skipping a day is a slippery slope and I really don't want to start down it. So I have been brooding and fuming and worrying about what to do and what's wrong with me and then suddenly I thought. Ok. It's April 14th. Taxes. How could I have missed something that obvious?

So here are a few not overly coherent thoughts on the subject of taxes. I've left this post for too late in the day and my brain is just not cooperating with me at all today, even though it has finally agreed to a topic. Maybe it's Spring fever. If today was an "r" day, I could post the amazing pictures I took of my favorite robin this morning. He came nice and close to the house and I got some awesome pictures... But I'm stuck with "t" and an uncooperative mind, so here's the best I can come up with....

Here's my heretical statement. I think taxes are good.

I admit that I don't like paying taxes any more than anybody else does. Well, that's not true. I don't like letting go of money because it's pretty scare, but I think taxes are really quite a fine and worthwhile thing and it drives me crazy that we elect nincompoops like George W. Bush in part because of promises like "no new taxes." I just don't understand why Americans react to the phrases "lower taxes" and "no new taxes" like Pavlov's dogs salivating at the sound of a bell. The benefit to be gained from those phrases is just as much an illusion as the empty bowls Pavlov's dogs salivated over. We have been programmed to react to the idea of taxes like they are some kind of punishment or a penalty we pay. But taxes are important. They are our contribution to keeping aspects of society going. Roads need to be paved, our social security system needs to be maintained, trains and ports need to be kept running... and our schools need to be nurtured and supported. Not doing those things in a timely way costs us in the long run.

I'm not saying our system is perfect. (I think it's awful and in drastic need of repair.) Does our system need to be more fair? Absolutely. The middle class and the poor are carrying an absurd proportion of the burden while rich people are benefited with absurd breaks and excuses for not paying their fair share into the system. It's absolutely crazy.

What's crazy too, is that we all jump up and down with joy at the pseudo tax breaks and rebates, that are really sleight of hand or flat out lies. Besides the fact that the kinds of "breaks" people like Bush offer don't amount to enough to buy more than a few bags of groceries, they are also really illusions, because services have to be paid for somehow. So the cost of these "breaks" just trickles down to our State and local governments. We pay for them either in higher taxes there or in cut-backs that harm society as a whole and that ultimately cost us more when neglect catches up to us. Look at our school systems. Look at our neglected rotting infrastructure. That's what our tax breaks have bought us. Bush's big gala "tax rebate" when he first took office still makes me cranky. They spent billions on publicity and paper work. I got some absurdly miniscule amount of money from that expense and - adding insult to injury - it was TAXABLE the next year. Grrr.

I think the old "penny wise, pound foolish" adage applies to our view of taxes. Being cheap doesn't always save you money. I admit that it's relatively easy these days for me to be benign on the subject of taxes. My disability stipend is so small that I don't have to pay anything. But I have never resented paying taxes the way most people seem to. I never made much money, so I can't say I was delerious to see those dollars go. I can't say I always approve of how the government spends my tax dollars. I wish they would put more into helping the poor than they do into dropping bombs and planning interstellar spy networks. Still, we all benefit from good roads, from well educated children, from sewer and water systems that are well maintained. Those things have to be paid for. We can pay for them now with a few more dollars out of our pay checks or we can pay for them later with collapsing bridges, schools with not enough books and no music or art programs, and other things that cost us in more than just dollars and cents.

The next time some politician tries to seduce you with a promise he or she can't really keep, stop and think about what those new taxes might buy for you and your children and your children's children. Sometimes a penny saved is a penny earned and sometimes a penny saved is a penny wasted. Or that's what I think.

Anyway, as you write your check to the IRS or wait for your rebate, maybe think about shifting your attitude about taxation. Next time some politician tries to enchant you with the promise of lower taxes, stop and think about what that means, what it really means. Then vote for someone who promises FAIRER taxes. Vote for someone who promises to use taxes for the public good. And be grateful that you have enough money that you OWE taxes. Be grateful that you live in a magnificent - flawed, deeply troubled at present - but still magnificent country.

Well, I'm not so happy with how I've written this, but I'm really excited with my robin pictures. I think they are TERRIFIC ( that's a "t" word) and I'm excited about them, so I'm going to share one.


Happy Monday! Happy Tax Day tomorrow. Thank God/Goodness we are such a rich and blessed nation. Thank you for abundance and beauty in all it's forms. Which just reminded me that Thank you is another "t" word. Thank you to all of you who read and respond to my posts. You are TERRIFIC too!

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I hope you will all take a minute to remember that this is Autism Awareness Month. The following blogs and posts offer an opportunity to put a human face and heart on something which for most of us is just something we have heard about but don't really understand.

These are the Days
Forks Off the Moment - We are All Unique
Mother of Shrek
Full Soul Ahead
Down River Drivel
Look Me In The Eye