“I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality… I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.” — Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
(Photo by Steve Rawley)
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace peace
I think about what it’s maybe like in Heaven. My cousin, who shot himself in the head; my uncle (his father), who wrapped his car around a tree; my Dad (my uncle’s friend, and the man my cousin loved most next to his own father), who jumped off a bridge; my Grandpa (who loved my cousin, my uncle, my Dad, so much) who kept threatening to shoot himself, until my uncles took away his guns. So he went off dialysis and stopped eating and was gone in a week.
Yeah, I bet that’s a real g.d. interesting conversation they’re all having, about their rights and how much easier everything is, now that they’re gone.
Now, how about you tell me that suicide is painless, while I’m sitting here alone, with their pain and mine, on a Saturday night. When people kill themselves, that pain doesn’t go away; it just gets transferred to someone else is all.
That’s all. Someone else carries it.
This is all getting stirred up for me in a kind of huge, ugly way, because of Newtown (Clackamas Town Center, Columbine, Springfield, Jonesboro, on and on). All the Yosemite Sams are jumping around, shooting themselves down both legs at once, no gun control bs, “gotta stay safe!”, loading up on new guns and ammo, going to gun shows, taking shooting classes, taking out concealed weapon permits, NRA bs, 2nd Amendment bs, on and on until I want to scream from it, really.
You know what people like to shoot with guns? Themselves. And children. And their wives. Women, in general. Wait. And men. People like to shoot men, too.
No more guns. They’re not worth the cost.
This song always makes me feel a little better. I’ll just play it twelve more times and try to get some sleep.
Peace, love, peace, love, always.
nancy
LuLu, aka Wacky Cat 1, we will miss you always. Love you, sweet girl. (Here are my favorite pictures, from when we brought a friend home for her.)
Edited New Year’s Eve to say: Stopped by the post office with Steve this morning to pick up LuLu’s ashes. Why? Because the Pet Remains with Dignity people just had to send the box registered mail. (No, they didn’t. Seriously. If someone had stolen our late, wild kitty’s remains from the porch, then cosmic joke would have been on them.) Well, it’s a little depressing, picking up your cat’s ashes (inside a box, inside a package wrapped in plain brown paper) from the nice postal guy, who made me sign my name, print my name, and write out our address, in addition to all of the same on a slip of paper the other nice postal carrier left at the door, “sorry, cannot leave package as Signature is Required,” etc.)…
Where was I? It’s a little sad, really, taking care of a small piece of business like that, when what I’d really like to be doing instead is having brunch with my husband, and guzzling mimosas.
Only I don’t drink anymore, so much for that plan. Sorry, denial, you just don’t do it for me anymore. I would love to try to find a way to forget that my kitty is gone. We were together for 17 years! She was funny, cuz she quacked instead of meowed! Also, I loved the way she would threaten you by holding up just one, flexed paw, claws extended. “I’ll cut ya.”
Sigh. One mimosa? Nope.
Quiet, sad moment. Then we walked outside and right then…
It started to snow. Gorgeous, beautiful, cold, white snowflakes.
Because my kitty is an angel now, that’s why, and she sent the snow.
The End and Happy New Year, dear readers.
— wm
from “Arrested Development” (“Let ‘Em Eat Cake”):
Michael: Dad sold houses to the Iraqis, didn’t he? This is what you kept from me so I could take the polygraph test. Tell me the truth, okay? ‘Cause there’s been a lot of lying in this family.
Lucille: And a lot of love.
Michael: More lies.
…first you’ll have to pry my gun from my cold, dead fingers… if those kids had been armed they wouldn’t have been shot… it’s all the mother’s fault, she was single… guns don’t kill people, single mothers kill people… 2nd amendment guar-an-damn-tees me my right to AK47s and lots of ammo… and… cue Ted Nugent, celebrity spokemodel. Finis.
(Photo by Steve Rawley)
“To hatch a crow, a black rainbow
Bent in emptiness
over emptiness
But flying”
— Ted Hughes
(Photo by Steve Rawley)
“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of ‘disaster,’ I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world.” — Mister Rogers
that quote was the only thing that helped me this week. that, and knowing that I don’t have to let my family out of my sight this weekend. so sorry for everyone who experienced losses and trauma in the shootings at Clackamas Town Center on Tuesday and in Connecticut today.
(Photo by Steve Rawley)
Unmarked Boxes (fragment)
“Tatatumtum tatum tatadum.
There is the light gold of wheat
in the sun and the gold of bread made from that wheat.
I have neither. I’m only talking about them,
as a town in the desert looks up
at stars on a clear night.”
— Rumi
People, I love holiday cookies, is that so wrong? The neighbors came over on Monday when we all had the day off school, and it was the Best Cooky Swap Ever.
Grinch Cookies (add a red M&M to signify “his heart grew three sizes that day”)
Bisquick Chocolate Chip Cookies
i will have more, but that’s all for now…
xoxox sweet sweet sweetness,
Wacky Momminess
These pictures are pretty wild. Meow!
xo from crazy cat lady
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