Thankful

Praying
by Mary Oliver
It doesn’t have to be the blue iris,
it could be weeds in a vacant lot,
or a few small stones; justpay attention,
then patch
a few words together and don’t try to make them elaborate,
this isn’t a contest but the doorway
into thanks,
and a silence in whichanother voice may speak.

— Thirst: Poems
by Mary Oliver

Puss n' Toots

Atticus does not like camping. I'm not surprised, since he's a cat, but he throws such a fit when we leave him that he acts like he's going to commit kit-icide. Or, at the very least, homicide when we get home. If it ever comes to that, I am certain it will be a slow and painful death, based on the way he treats mice, lizards and all other now-tailess creatures that live near our house.

To demonstrate his dislike, he commenced to farting right after we began our trip. This may be due to nerves, but is more likely that fact that R fed him Cheetos from Subway. The cat seemed to really love Cheetos. We all love Cheetos. Second only to bacon, it is the food of the Gods. There's nothing better than the lingering effects of orange Doodle Dust and the salty sweet smell. But the sad fact is the puffy perfect little treats don't smell nearly as yummy when the residuals are coming from the back end of a kitten, no matter how cute that kitten is.
The only consolation is, that before he unloaded each Cheeto bomb, he would climb over on R's lap and let'r rip. Is this a male bonding thing?

I worried about his reaction to the cattle, since his favorite prey at the house is the dog and the big honking herd of white-tailed deer that meander around the driveway. I could just see the bull flinging his orange and white kitty butt across the fence.

It was a moot point, however, as the mere sound of the bawling cattle sent him into fits of Cheeto farts, and caused him to streak under the bed, yowling and growling until R lured him out with, what else? Cheetos . . .

Fun Stuff for Christmas

Okay, so here's some cool stuff for the writer in all of us!
http://www.cafepress.com/KitFrazier

Free at Last, Free at Last: Landslide for a Brand New Day!

After eight long years under a virtual dictator, we are free at last, free at last! Celebrate. Kiss your honey. Call your friends. Take a breath.

Because now the real work begins. Barack has done an amazing thing. We have done an amazing thing. But freedom comes at a price. And what we choose to do with that freedom is up to us.

The Bush years have been progressively worse for all of us--in our state, in our country, in our world. And when we dared to protest, we were called "unpatriotic" and "uninformed."

For my part, I did not go buy duct tape. I did not go buy plastic sheeting, nor did I do my "patriotic duty" and go shopping. Somewhere along the line, I stopped writing. But I did something worse. I went underground, listening to the soft animal inside me turn into a howling, starveling wolf, and I did nothing about it.

We had a chance to come together September 11, and we blew it. Now, we have a chance again. I have let the starveling wolf loose. I have made friends with her, and she and I intend to make a difference. I believe in Obama. We have a long way to go. Prop 8 was a disaster in California. Republicans once again own Texas. Though nationally, we won in a landslide of electoral votes, we didn't win by much of a popular margin. We have a lot of work to do. Wake up that starveling wolf. Take a stand.

I believe in Obama. I believe in myself. And I believe in you, my friend. Let's do it. Let's make a better America.

Change is not for Pussies

Kittens for Obama

Don't be a Pussie. Vote for Change Or I Keeeel You . . .

Not Gonna Take It Anymore

I have an admission to make. In the past, I have been silent when the lady at the grocery store and various other miscreants have made jokes and said outrageous things about Obama.

I was afraid someone would key my car, or *gasp* think I don't belong.
Not anymore. I was at the gas station today, and a woman said, "Wanna hear an Obama joke?" and I said, "I voted for him. Still want to tell me?" Then I proceeded to tell her why I voted for Obama, which went over like an unleaded balloon. I know I probably didn't change her mind, but I planted a seed.

I wear my Obama shirts everywhere these days, and they always gets comments. I went to the local chamber of commerce to pick up information on upcoming holiday events, and the lady at the chamber of commerce sneered at my shirt and said, "You know, he doesn't put his hand over his heart when he says the Pledge of Allegiance," whispering like our next president was trying to spread the plague.

I stood there, staring at her. "You know that for sure?" I said. "You've actually been to a place where Obama was saying the Pledge of Allegiance? Wow, I wish I'd been there. I'd have asked for his autograph."

At the freaking chamber of commerce she said this. I thought the chamber spoke for all its citizens, and sorry, gang, that includes me. Where do these people get this stuff?

After that, I made my weekly trek to my town's teeny tiny grocery store, where an older gentlman with a Vietnam Vet cap kept staring at me. Since I try to ignore people who stare at me, I briefly checked to make sure my shirt wasn't unbuttoned, then I went about my business, looking for late-season strawberries that didn't look stricken with mold or other off-season biohazards. At the checkout, that same gentleman tapped me on the shoulder, and he said, "I appreciate your courage. I voted for him too."

Wow. How bad is it when a Vietnam vet tells you that you have courage for wearing a tee-shirt? I hugged him, took off my Obama button and gave him that, my telephone number, and told him if he ever felt alone, he could give me a call.

I am ashamed of my previous silence, and I wish I'd had the balls to stand up to these uninformed people for the past few months, rather than the past few weeks.
I'm here in the Hill Country, deep in the heart of Texas. I am a democrat, and I suspect I'm not alone.