Yesterday I found the top of a reproduction depression glass cheese bowl laying behind the microwave, and the bottom was, unscathed, on the floor. I'd been keeping it on the kitchen windowsill, and this was like the third time it had been knocked off. I figured I was pressing my luck leaving it there, three times and all, so I moved it over in preparations for moving to a new, safe location.
I came home today to find the lid shattered all over the kitchen floor. Ah, well. As Maude said, "don't get attached to things!"
I had meant to wax poetic about the mainstream country radio stations in Albuquerque. They were what country stations used to be like here in Arizona -- while I was there, amidst the McGraws and Straits and Jacksons as usual played, I also heard George Jones, Conway Twitty, Hank Williams (Sr. and Jr.), Gary Stewart, David Ball, and Ronnie Milsap; and that was only listening while driving, mostly. The station I got in the truck, 105.1, "The Range," was so awesome I wanted to move to Albuquerque just to have that station on my own truck's radio. A LOCAL station that still plays actual country music. It is to die for. Of course, Albuquerque (as well as the rest of New Mexico) still retains pride in its background and roots.
I considered today that Bush's cronies may be correct that he's not a racist. He's not a racist -- he's a classist. It wouldn't have mattered what color the bulk of those left behind in New Orleans, what mattered was they were all poor. Bush and his ilk do not care about those in need, no matter what color they are. Affluence is what matters, not skin color. He makes a big deal about having appointing a black woman as Secretary of State, but Condy is a wealthy woman. Alberto Gonzales? He's got bucks, too. The poor of this country were about to be shoveled into the furnace, but along came Katrina to shine the spotlight on their heartless lack of that "compassion" that they rode to the White House on.
I read an article (It was cross-posted in rahirah's journal, from here originally) where it's been said by so-called Christians on the far (far, far, FAR) right that Katrina was God's justice, smiting the "sinful" city of New Orleans and wiping out such terrible things as Mardi Gras (a Catholic holiday), abortion clinics (such as we still have, thank God, everywhere), and a gay pride event called "Southern Decadence." Hmm, thought I, if it were indeed God's wrath on such wicked folk, then why was it the French Quarter was largely spared, and not flooded when the levees broke? God couldn't have it in for the poor folk whose homes were destroyed--but perhaps He did need to show the rest of the world what exactly Bush means by "compassion." Compassion toward the wealthy. Compassion toward the strong. Compassion toward the mighty. Oh, yes, and compassion toward the unborn child; but once it's born and poor, who cares? Compassion toward the well-to-do wealthy brain-dead young woman; but none for the dehydrating elderly who have no money or political power.
I hate what men like these do to the word "Christian." The evil they do in Christ's name will backlash on them on day, I fervently hope and pray for the strength to believe. Of course, I also believe that the fun, frolicsome part of New Orleans is what is going to recover first. If there's one thing about the human spirit, we like to party. Bush's "post-9/11" world has been one that is fraught with deliberately remembering pain and suffering at the exclusion of all else. That's something people can only stand for so long before they recoil in the other direction. History shows that after every single restrictive, overly strict era comes one of wild extremism. We're due for another shift, even though it's only been a few years since those wild and carefree 90's.
I am buried in work at work. There were two days of mail sitting on my desk when I got there this morning (9/1 and 9/2), and two more days landed when today's were delivered, because of the holiday. I managed to finish 9/1, at least. At home there's a bunch of stuff I WANT to do, and need to find the time, like taking a serious crack at Final Draft. What I need to do is actually schedule myself writing time and stick to it. They put together a new way of keeping track of our absences on our intra-net, and I found out I actually still have 16 days of vacation (I guess I'd carried over more than I thought from last year), I could theoretically take some of that time and do it. What I WANT to do is go camping--real camping, sorry sillymagpie--which means going out into the deep woods on some lonely logging road, pitching a tent, and listening to nothing but the wind in the pines for a few days. We haven't gone camping since the drought started, some seven years ago, and I miss my mountains. It was another one of the things I loved about Albuquerque. Mountains!