Yesterday we drove to Petersburg to the P'burg National Battlefield Park or "nps.gov/pete" on the world wide web. That amuses me, the "pete" part. I'm easy. Anyway, lots of trails, nothing really challenging but great scenery and the land, I can't help but feel, is permeated with spirit.
Okay, I praise George Allen for stepping up and giving it up--he's correct, it's the right thing to do, to save everyone's time and money and so forth. Nice work cowboy.
Basically, I'm just scared of Nancy Pelosi as a person.
So as I write at this moment, Webb is ahead but Allen hasn't backed down. I voted for Webb. I'm not in love with him by any means, but I hope for his victory. I am chagrined, but I suppose not surprised, by the easy passage of Amendment 1. What a waste of time, money, resources, headaches, and breath. I only wish that those who so fervently believed in the need for our state constitution to be amended in such a way would use some of their time and resources and energy to do something actually useful, something that would really be life and Christ affirming, like teaching children and adults to read, working with Habitat for Humanity and other such organisations, getting food and clothing to those who need it most, spending some time listening to the elderly who are alone, the sick who have no one, buying books and art supplies for kids who long for those things but have no access to them. Wouldn't that be a blessing to and from God?
I'm still at work. The jury is still at work also. I know this because of the Times Dispatch trial blog. It's been updated throughout the day every day of the trial. I keep coming back over to the computer and refreshing that page, waiting to see if Ricky Gray will live or die. It's very weird...I click on the refresh button and then have a few seconds to try and prepare, guess, hope, before the page reappears. Still the same--they came out and asked some questions and went back in. Why isn't it quick like the guilty verdict?! What is there to hash out?! I wonder who the 12 are and wish I could whisper in the ears of whomever may be thinking about a life sentence : take his life, take his life away for those of us who can't. He didn't just take the lives of Bryan, Kathryn, Stella and Ruby, he took pieces of all of us, he stabbed us all in the heart. I don't want him to breathe the same air as I do, I don't want him to ever feel the rain, hear the thunder, see the lightening, see the moon or stars, the sun shine, the taste of water to pass his lips. He has no rights. He has nothing inside. He and the other monster have robbed all of us.
Another day, another dollar... I wish I'd stop humming The Girl From Ipanema... What should we do this weekend...How will I ever pay off all my debts...I wish she would just shut up for a while...I'm hungry but there's nothing to eat here...I wonder how my mother is doing, I'm too much of a little pussy to find out...I'm scared...if you're allergic to peanuts, you should ask if something has peanuts in it before you shove it in your piehole...God, I love zip loc bags!...why are people so stupid sometimes...what would I be doing if I were at home right now instead of at work...ow, I bit the inside of my cheek, I hate that...why am I so stupid sometimes...why are my friends dead...why did those two monsters do what they did...I would like to execute them myself...I think I could live with that, easily...next week is gonna be hard, I don't know how to be prepared. I wish I could build a protective coating over my heart and my brain...I shouldn't have eaten that cereal for breakfast...I feel sick...I don't know where I fall in the world...why are there people who want to blow up jet airplanes...I want to teach you a lesson...she shouldn't have had that baby if she wanted to continue to live like a single drunky girl...how many kids get no love...I love the beagles...I love my friends...I wish I could put my arms around all of them...
E and I decided late in the afternoon to take a jaunt over to the Azalea Gardens and see what the Veggiefest was all about as neither of us had been before. We parked on Bellevue and walked from there, making our way thru the greenery, following the sound of music. A band played on a nifty stage with rows of folding chairs in front of it, children were running about, leashed dogs panted, strained and sniffed, and we began to explore. As expected, there were plenty of yoga/massage things, Buddhist stuff, all-natural this and that, a tent that apparently showed explicit videos inside...of farm animals, and I expect not sexy stuff with farm animals. There was a warning of graphic nature and no children. We proceeded the other way thru a variety of smells in the air from patchouli, to incense, to good food smells, to burnt food smells, to barnyardish smells. E got food from the Indian place, I got yummies from Ginger Thai. We sat in chairs under a tree near the general picnic area. Kids chased each other around and around. It was all quite pleasant.
We finished up and decided (by "we decided" what I mean is that I asked imploringly, since I had no cash...) to get a funnel cake. It had to be done. And what it was was a funnel cake. We walked around more and noshed. We had just passed thru the storytelling and face painting areas, and were heading back to the food area when E passed in front of me from my left to my right and then we were both startled by a THUNK sound and we looked to the ground and saw what initially appeared to be a rubber snake. We looked up at each other dumbly, or perhaps quizically, and then up at the branches way above us and then back down to the ground. Closer inspection confirmed that the snake was in fact not made of rubber but of snake-flesh and had the requisite flickering tongue and snaky movement. We then realised that it had fallen from the tree. Or perhaps the sky. But probably the tree. At that point an older woman carrying something mysterious inside a large opaque plastic box, took an interest and expressed concern that someone would run over or otherwise harm the snake. She suggested one of us pick it up by the tail but then withdrew that suggestion. She left. I found a stick of suitable length and strength and nudged the tapered end underneath the possibly endangered reptile and airlifted him/her into the safety of a tangle of bushes and poison oak.
Damndest thing. Though I was raised a Southern Baptist, there was never any snakehandling in any of our services that I recall. However seeing that I am currently an ordained minister, I may now add snakehandling to my list of credentials. Or at the very least snake-sticking.
This is of the kitchen counter. I was going to make hummus. Note, if you will, the tv remote. Right there with the ingredients, pencil, and whatnot. That was so I could turn the tv on and/or change the channel back to OLN in mere milliseconds while preparing food for dinner. In case you haven't heard, OLN is changing their name to "Versus" in September. In case you don't know what OLN is, it's the Outdoor Life Network. In case you don't know who I am, I'm The Leemur. I hope they stop showing so many fishing and hunting shows. You shouldn't be watching fishing and hunting shows--you should be out hunting and fishing. You should probably be doing that right now. Go.
It's a great sunny day though it's supposed to get up to 98. I think we are going to pack up the backpacks and go on a mt bike trek all around and hopefully set up somewhere in the shade for a picnic and whatnot.
The Tour de France is well under way and has been pretty exciting so far. I was surprised, disgusted and disappointed when Ian breathlessly delivered the news at work on Friday about Basso, Ullrich and the others being suspended. I was really rooting for Basso. At this point Ullrich is over I think, this would be the Tour for him to shake everything off and win for once and for all, but that seems to be that about that. I think it will prove to be quite a race anyway. I'm going for Hincapie.
E made dinner last night(her delicious lentil enchiladas) and we sat on the side porch and ate and watched the fireworks from the Diamond. And the Braves actually won! We went to Friday's game and I was pleased as punch for that win too. Which brings a brief aside : I hate it when people leave before the game is over. Win or lose. I don't get it. When I go to a ballgame, I go to a ballgame, I stay to the bloody and/or glorious end. Whatever people.
Let include in conclusion, this picture, of these perfectly adorable packs of butter that I bought yesterday, not knowing that they weren't regular whole sticks of butter, but in fact these smaller, nicely wrapped little thingies that I wouldn't mind at all receiving as a present. But I'm just like that. Don't worry, I won't give you one for Christmas..
"Right now more Virginians need new furniture than ever before."
--from Haynes "Big Wednesday Sale" commercial.
I don't get it.
I'm a bit drunk right this minute...I didn't mean for that to rhyme. Tonight I met M. for beers at Zippys. We have not seen or talked in too long for good friends. There are too many dumb things in the middle. I had good time. We talked about movies, her movie, casting, music, I brought out my shame at having blown the screenwriting partners deal, and we talked on and beered, and decided that I am the one for Casting and maybe Concepts and Stuff. Zippys has a fine variety of beers, the first one I had was the @!#^%^%$^! Wheat Beer, (@!#^%^%^!) being Germanic something or another, then a $*^$*^)(*)(_)(#$#@^&) India Pale Ale, then something I split with M, a lager, it was all quite fine in the scheme of things, talking about life, love, movies, and whatnot over spirits.
We dismissed and I made my short way home, in the Golf, with the windows and sunroof open, and I swear, as I drove east on Brookland Park Blvd, I felt the unmistakable smell of Big Red gum on the air. That smell smacks you like a spicy brick that rings bells from the back of your throat down your esophagus and thru your sinuses and the very back bottom edge of your brainpan. What the hell Ginter Park, that was refreshing!
I get to my loving home, touch base, touch face, touch sweet loving heart, and work my way to my study, to my inbox. I have an email from a close friend..."HAVING ONE OF THOSE UNREAL MOMENTS.CANT SHAKE IT;
WANTING TO TEAR SOMEONES LIMBS FROM THEIR BODY. I
CANT STAND IT. SAW (friend) TONIGHT AT LOWES AND SHE
ALSO SAID IT IS GETTING HARDER EVERY DAY FOR HER. I
GUESS WE ARE COMING OUT OF SHOCK. IT IS SO FUCKING
HARD TO BELIEVE THAT THIS HAPPENED. I GUESS WE SHOULD
BE GLAD THAT WE ARE SO UNABLE TO ACCEPT THIS, AND NOT
BE COMPLIANT AND NUMB TO IT. I THINK THIS SUMMER IS
GOING TO BE REAL REAL SAD. I THINK WE ARE GOING TO
HAVE TO REALLY WATCH OUT FOR OUR FRIENDS. THE REALITY
OF THIS REARS ITS UGLY UGLY HEAD AT ANY MOMENT, AND
YOU CANT ALWAYS FIGHT IT OFF. I THINK WE WILL REALLY
NEED TO BE AWARE OF ALL OUR BUDDIES,EACH OTHER AND
OURSELVES."
And there is sad, open, painful, real, dirty, plain truth. Our friends, our sweet, loving, beautiful, funny, serious, goofy, gorgeous, very real friends, are very gone, have been horribly taken from us. They won't be at the pool in a few weeks, won't be at the store, at school, at the coffee shop, walking by your house, waving at you while you're in your yard, or at the stoplight beside you. None of us will see them there, even though we still feel them everywhere. It is very hard to try to tell someone who's removed, in one way or another, what this is like. It is not like any loss I have so far known. It is not like anything I have known in my life. It is not regular, it is not normal, there is no pattern, no road, no map, no sketch, no platitude, no psalm, no hand, no look, no saying, no nothing that can cover this, that can cope with this, that can placate this, that can bless this, that can cure our hearts of this. Sorry God, I can't figure this out. I feel comfort from my friends, but nothing stops the pain of the salt screaming the water from my heart and the acid soaking though my soul.
I can't shake my blue. Family closet skeleton of genes strung together muddle and wailing. I look at this :
"Come back to square one, just the minimum bare bones. Relaxing with the present moment, relaxing with hopelessness, relaxing with death, not resisting the fact that things end, that things pass, that things have no lasting substance, that everything is changing all the time--that is the basic message. " --Pema Chodron
I am butting my head against everything. Against my own head. Against my heart. Against the wall around me.
FedEx has swallowed my package, and my rear derailleur cable on my road bike is no longer even holding on by a thread. All in all, I'd rather be mt biking thru a quiet green forest with birds singing hymns and sunlight shining through here and there to spotlight some simple treasure. And then a good Vietnamese meal afterward on the side porch.
