I have a fleet of aircraft at my disposal and I chose to stay home during my week of vacation and work on the remodeling of the kitchen. It's a mess as the rental management sent out the lower than low bid contractor to lay a new floor in the manner of what a four year old would do. He's the same contractor that I'm pretty sure patched up a vertical canyon in the wall with chewing gum and flooded our bathroom ceiling when working on plumbing two floors above. This contractor creates more work than what he completes, quantified at best. I should check with my travel agent about my choice of "down time." But that's not the only thing that's a mess.
It's come to my attention, just, that our nation's civil rights are a mess too. The contractors involved on both sides are simply shit, and the work created is more than any work done. Just over a month ago Michael and I were finally allowed to get married in the United States, as the California Supreme Court ruled denying marriage to anyone is simply unjustified under the California constitution. Really, it is unjustified under most constitutions except our covenants are subject to more interpretations than critical literature readings of Shakespeare and Chaucer put together. When is the last time you had a contractor that could read?
A number of very rich entities (two of the only rich red necks in Orange County and the Mormon Church, specifically) paid for a propaganda machine that actually worked and made McCain's election staff blush with envy. Apparently the same kindergartner taught sex education by Obama, grew up in a matter of months to be taught about gay marriage in third grade. So says McCain and the Mormon church. Gosh, I guess everything I needed to know I learned in kindergarten but I don't ever remember being taught about marriage in school.
The churches prayed on the fears of their patrons gaining nearly 40 million dollars to fuel the thirsty hate motor and by GOD, they won. I suppose I shouldn't expect to see their church leaders flying in $9,000 business class seats to their "missions" in Africa after such an expenditure. I take some savor in wondering if Billy Bob's mansion in Orange County burned this week and I hope Salt Lake City has a horrendous ski season and ALL their wives are the angrier for it.
Election Tuesday was rift with joy (for the most part) as the Democrats stopped the onslaught of the far too Rightly lost Republicans, but the celebration was short lived learning the next hungover morning a sobering discovery; Michael and I were no longer married. The conservatives of this nation, indeed, had one more shot to fire before they surrendered and it hit us. At this point most married people would be running to the nearest open brothel and enjoying the prospects of a single and legal romp for prosperity's sake, but nothing was open that early. Proposition 8 in California passed denying a short lived civil right and expanding the punishment of the tyranny of the ill informed masses. One day with the new kitchen floor and the new tiles are already cracking.
Thomas Monson and I must have yelled, "WTF," over Proposition 8 passing at the same time. I couldn't believe a state concerned about the rights of slaughter chicken took a civil right away by changing their state constitution. Monson actually read the proposition and discovered there was no provisioning making Proposition 8 retroactive, thus the nearly 18,000 same-sex marriages taking place up to November 4th, were still legal.
An entity (GOD only knows whoMormons that would be) will have to sue the state of California, and the same court giving me civil rights will once again decide if they should be taken away again, and them some. Monson bought himself a 40 million dollar issue that won't go away for quite a while as my marriage will remain in legal limbo until the yahoos that be, figure things out. California has a mess in their kitchen and I can't wait to hear the language used between those contractors. My contractor, I can't understand him at all and I think during our last discussion I purchased his mother.
Growing up in a military family, protesting simply wasn't done and largely left to communist liberals and students skipping class. Protests are still filled with the usual lot and you can continue to look forward to my conservative and water cannon views on anti-war/nuke protesters. So what am I doing protesting during my vacation not once, but twice? I've finally felt an injustice important enough to me to march, speak out and show my displeasure my creating some social, even anti-social noise.
I now understand the emotions of protesters and social activists from history. When you've got nowhere to go (Sorry Bubba, but Antarctica is owned by penguins and Russians and they don't want me either) you most certainly need a burning car or Cindy Sheehan's motor home to spread the word. And folks, I'm 35, with a proper job, pay my taxes (mostly) and speak in tongues to my floor contractor for tearing instead of cutting adhesive tile around cabinet corners.
There were no water cannons, plastic bullets, tear gas, burning cars, smashed store fronts or arrests involved with any of these protests. Quite boring sounding really, but what was involved was a great deal of warm feelings knowing thousands across the country recognize a disservice has been done. I'll have a great story to tell my adopted kids in Arkansas how their dads (and dog) protested and fought to make our family a reality.
Obama maintains a stay for his rather silent approach to "my" issue and Utah will have no snow this year if I have anything to do with it. The free pass was offered to Obama to get him into office but now there, come Cherry Blossom time and when Monson has a tan from laying out at the Salt Lake beach all winter long, "our" Million Man march will have a very different take and maybe Obama will remember when his mother got married to his father, three fourths of America found that rather illegal and disturbing.
In the mean time, I'll not ask the contractor to paint the kitchen as I'd like to be able to use my refrigerator door without prying it open due to it being painted shut. Much like California will spend a good bit of time figuring out how to open and shut a civil rights policy painted over with green cash and protectively sealed with glossy hate. However if my contractor doesn't get the floor right, I might just as well set his truck on fire. I'm due!
Eric
Here's a link to the photos I took while at the Wednesday night protest against the Mormon church and the Saturday protest against Proposition 8 and/or to tell NY state and our country to get their act together!
http://picasaweb.google.com/
Sunday, November 16, 2008
My First (and second) Protest Ever
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Snowbound in Piedmont
The morning greets us with four inches of fresh snow and temperatures in the teens. The blanket of snow helps echo the chirps of birds around the valley and the local rancher can be heard working hard distributing hay to the cattle and horses. Hugo was out early this morning learning how to amplify his senses from summer fun to winter wonder. The cabin offers an endless supply of stimuli lying beneath the blanket of snow and Hugo is on the hunt with territorial markings and protection desires in high alert.
The freezer downstairs is packed with last season’s kill and the “Hungry man” breakfast includes eggs with ground venison and mystery spicy sausage. For whatever reason, the cabin coffee maker makes the best coffee in the world, at least for this moment. With the snow tapering off, this makes for a great time to put the breakfast to use with a hike to the lake. All the winter gear is ready to go with insulated wellies, heavy thermal and my favorite, toe and hand warmers. Hugo manages to come to terms with his reflective vest and now ports it around like a kid thinking it’s Superman’s cape. With all the winter kit we have available, we’re feeling quite confident as well and head out.
This is the view from the top of the driveway looking down Belmont Ridge rd. The snow plow surprisingly came by early making the road passable, but I'll let the Honda sit this one out and enjoy the cabin today.
Michael's mom made this 20 year old slate sign. Michael's parents purchased this cabin in 1989 in hopes of moving down here after all the kids left home. Sadly, Michael's mom fell ill shortly after and wasn't able to enjoy the cabin. Since then, the cabin serves as the family retreat with hunters creating a rather ambiguous "boy's club" replete with a Playboy thermometer in the living room and an ashtray next to the toilet. It's always nice to know the temperature, but using the toilet and smoking at the same time is simply dangerous! Your magazine could catch on fire. Michael's mom would never have that.
The Honda stays at the top of the drive. The double diamond slope of a driveway proved easy going down but not the case going up. After repeated tries, I shoveled down to the gravel for half the drive, turned the Honda around in order to get the weight over the drive wheels and prayed momentum would do the rest. It did, on the fifth try and cursing in French.
Sunlight appears and the world sparkles. Behind the shed is the path leading to the lake.
The wood stove compliments the central heat in the cabin, but generally is the only source of heat used. Simply brilliant how much heat it gives off in relation to a normal fireplace.
The stream below the cabin marks our way to the lake.
Hugo at speed.
Shhh! We're hunting wabbits!
Hugo working the scent.
A shepherd pointing? What mix is he now?
Gazing over frozen Lake Piedmont, OH
Well, not quite so frozen. Hugo managed to break enough ice away to sit in the water. That didn't last long.
The ice fissure creeps towards Hugo, but he seems not to care.
Boo!
Rocket dog!
I think we'll just keep the car here.
Back to the remodeling issue, after celebrating the stubborn removal of the ashtray lodged by the toilet, we kept going. We dug the car out and headed to the nearest Lowe's, thirty minutes away but the roads were in good condition. These projects are never as easy as you expect and the 20 year old wallpaper proved to be resilient. Two days later, the finished project below:
No smoking please.
While we paint, Hugo scavenges for, well, what can you say? After much discouragement and treat tossing, we finally got the coyote vertebra away from him and hid it. Not to well apparently as it only took him a few hours to claim it again. The treasure is now on the roof of the cabin.
Coyote vertebra now out of the picture, Hugo finds a severed deer leg. We thought it was a stick at first but he became very protective over the "stick" and then I picked it up in the dark to discover it was a deer leg. Disturbing. It too, is now on the roof of the cabin. Even more disturbing.
I thought he'd just chase the deer in the back yard like he does cats and squirrels, with great abandon, but only just. This epic deer chase is best explained by using this photo from Google Earth. 1) is the cabin of which Hugo took off down the ravine to (2). Crashing through and up the woods to (3) and then there was a visual at the top of the driveway (4). Hugo and deer launched over the ridge to the rancher's land and the down the hill to (5). I lost sight through the woods and then saw him at the bottom of the hill (6). I thought it was him at least. Just a spec. Minutes later and futile call-backs, Hugo appears at (5) again but only to trace the tracks again. He reluctantly came back and I've never seen this dog so tired. His tongue hanged all the way out of his mouth, eyes were glazed and the panting could be heard the field away. Out of shape? Hardly, as what isn't represented here is nearly two miles of travel down and up steep hills (so much so that the car can't make it up the driveway with snow), thick woods and in a matter of ten minutes. Yes, I was worried on many counts, namely Hugo didn't have the "super dog" cape on and the rancher thinking a coyote was after the live stock. God takes care of fools and children. Fortunately, we were both.
Post deer run nap.
On guard.
We'll leave Wednesday now.
Hugo, come home!
Are we cooking deer again?
No, I dont' want to leave!
Nor does the car. Low profile everything does nothing for heavy snow.
I'm not leaving!
Slippery and I'm doing everthing I can to resist going pro rally for just a moment!
Snow drifting over Lake Piedmont.
Sleepy town of Piedmont.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Cabin Achieved
We always take longer than needed to get to the cabin. Cabella’s is always worth an hour’s stop but at least we made it to Wheeling rather than stopping in Hamburg, PA. I finally got a pair of insulated Wellingtons that will make mud and snow romps more pleasant. Michael played hooky from work by using his phone and various free WiFi spots on our trip, such as the free WiFi at Panera’s Bread locations along the route from NYC to Piedmont, OH. Still, we made it in record time compared to our usual trips and we have light traffic and zero winter construction to account for our relatively speedy voyage.
We made it here just in the nick of time when Old Man Winter arrived as the last bag was being brought into the cabin. A messy and disabling mix of snow and sleet is expected the next 48 hours, rendering the low cruising Honda fairly useless. This means we are stuck in the cabin as the roads are rarely plowed up here. Super Wal-Mart made a killing on us and we are well stocked for the next few days and beyond.
Once we made the turn onto the country roads, Hugo knew what was up and whined, paced (as much as possible in the little Honda back seat) and stuck his nose out the window despite the cold and impeding winter weather. He ran for about an hour around the house and land, came home for dinner, snow covered, and is now sleeping on my feet under the computer desk.
Snowbound and at the cabin, as intended and we don’t leave till Tuesday…maybe Wednesday!
E
Snow!
