It had been a basic day for us – letting him sleep in a bit from the night shift and then a decent breakfast to get him ready for the day. We like to go to the local large animal clinic to see the horses when the weather permits and we’ve time. I am a city girl and wholly unfamiliar with their tics and twitches so I think he believes it will slowly acclimate me to their nature.

As always before, each one puts muzzle to my face, snuffling in my breath and whoofing their own at me. I don’t move my hands at first, only that nuzzling as a greeting. I think, and he agrees, that they must sense in me something of the familiar. Of course, after that I am more afraid and cautious with fingertips. But we try to be fair in our attention, stopping to see as many as we can. There were many colts there today – as if all the mares knew this was a gentler weather to bring them into the open and hurried it along.

Some we pass by, especially if their legs are bandaged, but there was one whose injury was hidden from view as we approached. Again, the snuffling and Ray turned away a moment as the horse shifted and the gaping wound at the top of the front leg came into view. Muscle, clean and smooth, shifted with its weight and in a way I found it beautiful. The wound was…almost like a gift – “see? this is us, inside. Like you. You remember, don’t you?” But the moment was gone and it turned away and rather than stir it to anxiety, I moved away. But not until I told the giant in the stall next to it to lend it some strength, he being so large that surely he could spare it.

We left, then, and headed to “town”. A few tasks done and a terrific lunch had, we were heading to the prospective house to get a refresher glimpse of it. On the way home, we waited for the turn signal to change, traffic behind us in the intersection. Ray’s eyes fixed on the mirror and I looked in my own – the passenger door all I could see as it opened and then slammed shut again.

He put the gun nearer than its usual stowage area and said, “Fighting, two gals, I think.” And again the door opened and shut so that I turned in my seat to see behind, the light changing. The driver had the other by the hair at the nape, bending her down out of view and then holding her in the seat upright, driving.

His fingers dialed, getting the nearest car dispatched and he related positions as we followed them, now, better vantage. The passenger tried to eject from the car, it going over 65 MPH. The driver maintained that grip. They exited the state road and the sheriff’s car moved in between us, and we all pulled into the lot nearby.

He got out, armed but not threatening and the passenger exited the car, walking toward him as the sheriff addressed the driver. The passenger hit the ground, willingly, and that’s when I could tell – oh, yeah. She had the CBD, alright. The driver seemed to be complying fine and very quickly a city car arrived, taking control of that one.

In the end, the CBD sufferer was taken off to let the drink wear down a bit, the driver ought to have been charged but we didn’t wait to find out. But for me it was an interesting glimpse into how fast things can go bizarrely wrong in the world, even in this bucolic outpost. I admit to a fear the woman would go under the tires so I was happy when the movement ceased. And his utter calm but…earnestness was intriguing. Sexy as hell, too, I’ll admit. I felt badly for the couple. What might once have been a happy morning ride turned into a courtroom, lawyered, paper laden affair.

Strange, in all, the day. But fun. Very much fun. I am seriously going to have a problem waking up at 3am…but he was so damned sexy! Yippee-ki-yay.


You would not believe the busy nature of our lives, now. We think we’ve located a house we agree on and within our budget. And the preapproval process continues while we work the other avenues.

There is so much to think about, so much to be done. And I can only do very little about it – let’s just say that my personal affairs were ravaged in the last go-round and the recovery from same is…unlikely. It is, at least, highly improbable. And I have learned that a person actually can live without what others think necessities. Still, I worry about its impact, later. Post-marriage, post-house, etc.

It feels, sometimes, as though I am constantly shuffling along with this burden dragging behind, and sometimes it feels like a beast that is happy to ravage whomever gets close enough. For many years I chose to not let anyone too close for the very reason. If anyone was to be hurt, it would only be me. But it was a heartless life. And one bound to see me dead.

So, I reached beyond that and found…light. Life. Simplicity. Bliss, perhaps. I was maybe 22 when I first saw Joseph Campbell on PBS and his words of philosophy and myth told me truths that I already knew. Hell, I knew most of the myths already, being a student of same, but…I remembered for a long time his words, “…follow your bliss…”. Of course, I misjudged often what I thought was bliss. But I think I know it now – that sense of calm security.

I have lived a life full of chaos and uncertainty, darkness and threats, secrets and sins. You cannot imagine the sense of freedom acquired from mere lack of worry. There are times I am drunk with it. Those papers signed and filed, that folder closed forever, those stories relegated to the past….of course, I do sometimes fret about that ‘i’ that wasn’t dotted but if it comes – that other shoe dropping from the aether – I shall just have to deal with it there and then.

But there is still…detritus. Letters in clear block print, madness in 1’s and 0’s, definite condemnations in neat and orderly binders. History, I guess, and I do not let it go. And all of it so very Discoverable.

And I wonder sometimes, if he asked me to, would I toss it on a pyre? I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. Because for me, the words are…physical. Not just ephemera…I still have, somewhere in a box, a paper from a lit class that received great praise. I knew, even as it was handed to me, that it was as far as it would go. I had more pressing things to consider at the time but I took pride in it, that small academic accomplishment. So much so that it remains with me, today.

I guess it is that lack of academic achievement that makes it so precious to me. Others have their…oh, their own detritus, yes – framed. With embossed gold stars. And I think they haven’t half the pride in them as I do in those 3 folded looseleaf pages, soft with age. They held promise of a dream, someday, to be fulfilled. If I could only manage to survive till then.

But it’s Then, Now. And I’ve not fulfilled it, no. The dream remains soft and dusty. But it rustles, I tell you, in its box. It lets me know, now and then, that it is no ghost. And it will have its life, too. Patient, yes. Patient as death. But insistent. I think I shall give it more ear soon.

Light and Shadow

So I am in a strange mood tonight. A little chilled out, a little frenetic, some dark aspects tickling at the back of the noodle and yet the earlier exercise giving it the brain chemicals it needs to lay back down. Which is why I have the Club Mix going courtesy of the ex. Say what I might about his lesser qualities, the man knows his music.

I was going to sit down and write something else but then a commercial HBO threw at me tossed it all aside and reminded me of something that has been pissing me the fuck off of late. I do not use the language flippantly, either.

Ever since the immoral and simian brained Left had their moment in the sun the media has gone, appropriately enough, ape-shit. Try to find anything even slightly reasonable or balanced on CNN, now. Not possible. Try to find a Yahoo news list that doesn’t have some sort of slanty blow to Bush/War/Economy/Whatever. Hell, I bet they even side with that bitch, Jessica. Nick, do I have a stepdaughter for you. OK so that’s off topic.

At any rate, HBO has some sort of mish-mash docu-drama (I am assuming, yes) about Abu Ghraib and the supposed torture there. Let me say this about what I know about that: I have seen men pay a great deal of money for much harsher treatment and the only difference was the torturer was wearing black leather at the time. Is that what it would take for the Left to give it a thumbs-up? What if it’d come out as some art house S&M flick? Would they have applauded it, then, their nipple rings jingling madly?

I know there is the argument that we ought to be “better than that” – better than our adversaries. If it meant one young man not having to storm an unknown building in Fallujah, I’d have cut their balls off and waited for the information to come. Period. War is not fair. War is not clean. War is hell and it is meant to be so that we do it as little as we must. My God, will they even deign to show the industrial shredders covered in blood, skin and hair? How about the women with entrails falling from sliced bellies, their unborn children festering there? Have they any idea what goes on that part of the world?

I am daily baffled by the absolute blindness of people to the truth. I would love for war to be the romantic and gallant affair of old but these people have no code of honor. Not one as we understand it. And so we do what we must to get the job done. If this were done properly, no man over 16 years of age would be left alive. It would be the end of the madness and the people might actually have a chance to grow into a society that the world can embrace without looking for a knife behind.

Instead, we’re so honorable that we will send our own innocent men in to take them out piecemeal – wait for the first shot, hope they survive it and can find the shooter after. Madness. Now, mind you, I do somewhat agree with Jerry Pournelle that this is all a bit like Empire and if that was out intention, we ought to have at least done it properly.

And must I hear yet again how it was all about the oil? Dear GOD, if that were the case it would take hardly a cohort to secure the damned things. We could have on Day One taken control of every facility and port and held the damned things ransom against future terrorism. We could have parceled out the oil enough to let them survive but not to prosper. Instead, we left it to them to figure out. We helped them get things up and running, improved infrastructure and tried to find the least corrupt local SOB to run the thing.

Of course, if I ran things, I’d have segregated the area into Kurd, Shia and Sunni, given each a fairly equal holding of oil to support their pseudo-regency and walked away with a finger cautioning them – make us come back and we take it all over. For good. But no – we have to be so politically correct and diverse and try to get everyone to get along. Well, they’re goddamned barbarians who haven’t quite figured that out yet – they are about 3 generations away from being capable of that sort of thing. Do you even grasp the implication there? How many attacks can be intercepted in that length of time? Do you really think we’ll catch every nuke and dirty bomb?

Sigh….no. We can’t. We never could. Because we “care” too much to shut down this country and protect it as is the government’s sole duty to the nation. Allow me to toss a favorite (truncated) Heinlein quote in here:

All societies are based on rules to protect pregnant women and young children. All else is surplus age, excrescence, adornment, luxury or folly which can–and must–be dumped in emergency to preserve this prime function.

So you see there the foundation of my logic and basis of beliefs. I started reading Heinlein (and Asimov and Clarke) when I was 12 years old so my brain was…adjusted to a different manner of thinking. And it has never recovered. LOL Still, the short story is that this place – this country of ours – is quickly moving to ruin and I think the only thing that will save it is, perversely, tragedy. It will take something like a dirty bomb to get the thumb sucking morons to blink and take notice of Reality.

I would certainly hope we could avoid it but the fact is that it would do us good to open those sluice gates and let the rabble hash it out in the streets. Those of us with enough sense (and ammo) would wait them out. And then this Great Experiment could being anew.

Or we can just keep on coasting along with this mindless drivel about global “change” and ignore the obvious facts that we are being targeted by people who have no intention of playing fair or honorably.

And if I might comment briefly on this global change bullshit – we are on a fucking rotating planet with an inconstant sun pouring changing levels of energy at us and our magnetic field is in flux, too, so just MAYBE it has nothing to do with human intervention, you idiots. Maybe precious Gaia is stretching out her limbs a bit to hug you closer to her breast. Ignore all that seismic evidence, though. No need to be sensible about this. Get back to your Womens Studies. Don’t worry – if it all goes to hell, someone will eat you for dinner and you will be about as environmentally pure as you can be.