Ceasefire or No, DJT Needs to Go!

 After spending a beautiful spring day worrying about Dear Leader doing something really awful that would brand our country forever as a rogue nation, I was relieved by the announcement of a two week ceasefire.

I'd hoped the orange idiot would find a face-saving way to back out of destroying a whole civilization in order to save it from its repressive leaders. And he has--but only for two weeks.

There seems to be building sentiment in favor of impeachment. I can only hope . . . and keep badgering my senators and representative to invoke the 25th. If ever anyone was manifestly unfit to be POTUS, it's the corrupt egomaniac currently infesting the Oval Office.

It's a hard reign (sic) gonna fall . . .and I'm not talking about Iran.

Dear Sirs

                                                 

 WAKE UP! Our country is well on its way to becoming a pariah nation. The madman in the Oval Office must be removed before he commits even more war crimes to divert attention from his on-going corruption and the Epstein files. 

IMPEACH AND REMOVE DJT!!!

The Easter Party 2026

Weather or not, the Easter Party happened. 

There was rain in the morning and a crew of nephews and others set up a canopy.

The quilts were hung on Saturday and the tables decorated.

There were lots of old familiar quilts made by our community over the years and more family heirlooms.

The quilt above was made of upholstery scraps by Candace's grandmother. But the thing about this humble quilt is that both of Candace's boys (home births) were born on it. There's glory for you.

The rain stopped in time for the party!

And folks began to appear--old friends and new.

The dogs were in heaven, especially when food was dropped or left unattended.

Lots and lots of kids, including, of course, one very familiar face.

And eventually the sun came out!

And the skies were blue!

 

Happy Easter!

                                                                   

                                    

 

Amaryllis Again

A Christmas gift from the past is putting on a show!

 

Dear Sirs

So, according to your president, our federal government is in the business of war ( a war of his choosing,) not day care, healthcare, or any of the various things that would make things better for the ordinary (i.e. non-billionaire) American. Yet somehow he manages still to spend lavishly in an attempt to remake DC in the image of his (failed) gilded casinos.

And the rich get richer while untold numbers of immigrant workers who made our economy run (while paying taxes) languish in shameful conditions in for-profit concentration camps. And the stock market yo-yos up and down while the president's friends pay for insider information and his family grows ever wealthier, profiting from his war.

I have little hope that you will act to impeach and convict this blatantly corrupt and destructive man, so deep in delusion and/or collusion is the GOP. But I look forward to seeing you reap your just rewards for the part you have played as enablers of the worst president in our nation's history. 

This is what I sent to Chuck Edwards and Ted Budd. I omitted the last paragraph when I sent it to Thom Tillis, who, since deciding not to seek reelection, has discovered what's left of his balls.

 

Puns Entirely About Dogs

                                           

Years ago my friend Kathy (another dog lover) and I played a game, daring each other to guess the answer using the name of a dog breed. For example:

What short skirts may reveal -- Pekinese (peek of knees_

Here some more for you to guess. I'll put the answers at the end of this post.

1. What the music critic answered when asked his favorite composer.

2. What the piano tuner was called in to correct.

3. What Mom told the twins at dinner time.

4. What happened when the priests disagreed about the liturgy.

5. What some might call Hans Christian Andersen.

6. What you might do with heavy cream.

7. What a vulgarian might call a really awful menagerie.

8. What might be said of a women with beautiful legs.

9. What you need to open a locked door.

10. What the philanderer called his second girlfriend.

11. What you might call an avid reader of intricate mysteries.

12. What the one who answers the phone is.

13. What you might snuggle under to watch TV.

14. What a user of smokeless tobacco does far too often.

                                       

1. Boxer (Bach, sir!)

2. Sharpei

3.Chow Chow

4. Mastiff

5. Great Dane

6. Whippet

7. Shih Tzu

8. Great Pyranees

9. Akita

10. Beagle (B girl)

11. Plott Hound

12. Collie

13. Afghan

14. Spitz

Ill show myself out.

                                

April Fool (Rabbit, Rabbit )

                                        

 

Latin Trivia

Minutas cantorum, minutas balorum,

Minutas carbonatum descendus pantorum.

A little song, a little dance,

A little seltzer down your pants.

I'm not sure who shared this with me years ago (Mario?) but it still makes me smile.

 

Buried in Paper

So it was time to tackle my workroom. It's cold up there in winter and hot in summer so this is my grace period. It 's where my quilting stuff is, and it's where I wrote five of my novels. Nowadays, I don't use it much--the light is better at the dining table  for painting and I no longer make quilts as my back complains after a half an hour at the sewing machine. 

Which means that the room has degenerated into a cobweb-covered repository for twenty some years of stuff, much the same as the scenario in my friend Gretchen's card above.

Currently I'm sorting through the paper trail of my alleged writing career: outlines, proposals, chapter by chapter records of various books . . .

. . . the occasional attempt at a haiku . . .

. . . more chapter by chapter records, as well as vast quantities of research for each book. And there were the talks that I gave at bookstores and other venues . . .

. . . and the accumulated lesson outlines of many years of teaching writing.

Really, it's sobering, tossing out  (recycling) the record of so much work. But it's that much less for the young uns to deal with eventually. And it's a pleasant look back at some interesting times.

And here and there, I come across something funny.

 

Dog Knows

 

More De-Accessioning

                                                      

I spent hours yesterday rummaging through my past and making some hard decisions. Up in my workroom, where I wrote most of my novels, are ten shelves stuffed with books I used (or thought I might use) for research.  As I have no plans to write another book, it seemed a good idea to donate most of those books to our library's spring booksale. 

There are books about Appalachia, the Cherokees, Asheville, Madison County, the Shelton's,  the Civil War, the Melungeons, snake-handling religion, and various odd things that caught my attention. Sometimes I might have found no more than a line or two in a book to be useful--but even a few words could lead to a whole chapter.

Perhaps I should feel sad that the writing phase of my life is past--but I don't. It's quite freeing to pass these useful books on. Three heavy boxes full. And I've just made a start. Plus there's a HUGE amount of ephemera--meaningful only to me. But I have to sort through it and read and appreciate it before consigning it to recycling. 

More on this later.

And Butterflies!

We're beginning to see butterflies, but they are the very devil to photograph for an old lady who's not quick on her feet. This was one of two who looked recently hatched and shiny new. They simply would not settle for more that a second or two. Kids!

Our river birch hasn't leafed out yet, but the shapes of its trunks and branches is appealing to me. Fifty years ago I planted three skinny little saplings and they've grown (and how they've grown!) into one huge tree. The fact that they were planted just below our septic drain field may have something to do with their vigor. 

The flowering quince was hit by the cold last week but has made a fine comeback. This is another planted fifty years back-- a clump from my neighbor Louise Freeman's quince.

The weeping spruce is a more recent addition--maybe thirty years ago.

So many memories.