Gratitude for a Fresh Start

The cleaning crew arrived today to do their magic on my humble, messy abode, and GRATITUDE is what bubbles up in my heart right now.

Gratitude for both Tammy and Kaliah being affable and competent as they make order out of my usual chaos.

Gratitude to Summer for selecting cleaners she and I can trust with my 'hiding in plain sight' stuff all over the house.

Gratitude to Kaliah for picking up the proffered jute rug at precisely the designated hour, and cleaning the dust and grit that was left on my living room floor once her beau hoisted the rug into their truck.  She is a sweet heart, and this was her last day as part of the crew, as vet school beckons in September.

Gratitude for the short oasis of calm they have granted me until my stuff starts popping up on every flat surface, once I liberate it, piece by piece, from the drawers it was hastily shoveled into before the cleaners arrived this afternoon.

Gratitude.  That's a good start to a new month.  💙

How about, View from the Couch? Day 35 of Post-Achilles Surgery

I am exactly 5 weeks post Achilles surgery, and try as I might, I cannot stop whining about how this enforced house arrest just sucks.

It isn't just that I am stuck here in my house for long days and long nights, for a week or more at a time... my local friends have come several times and hoisted me up and down steps for dinner, doctor's appointments, lunch.... a taste of freedom, much appreciated.

And it isn't that I am suffering malnutrition or the monotony of my own cooking. No, once again, my Tribe has feted me with everything from chicken soup and chicken salad to a huge roasted bird, chicken cacciatore, Italian Stuffed Olives, Halloween Treats, you name it.

Nor am I cut off from friends and family. My friends have stopped in a regular intervals to make sure I haven't killed the pups or burned the place down, or just to chat and catch up. Bring books from the library. Take them back when done or due. 

And some of my best buddies, God knows, are looking down the tunnel at health circumstances more troublesome than me and my Achilles. And still, they come over, sit and chat and for those hours, all is simpatico.

My personal hell with all of this post-Achilles surgery recovery is the physical toll it has taken on my frame. The heel wound, not healing properly, which necessitates tedious contortions 2x a day to cleanse it, dry it, disinfect it and then dress it. A 3rd hand would come in so handy. Or maybe a hacksaw....?

Aside from wound care, everything that needs to get done, does get done... laundry, cooking, dog "walking,*" etc. But it gets done in 10X the normal time, with me wrangling my Knee Rover into tight spots, backing up, inching forward, backing up, turning, backing up, inching... or depending on my very short fuse, picked up and placed in the direction I need to go. Over. And over. And over. And over again, all day long, all night long. Go sit on the couch to watch TV while having dinner...? oops, left my glasses in the bedroom. Want wine with dinner? Single trips for THE GLASS. Another for THE BOTTLE. Another for the DINNER PLATE. Don't forget salt and pepper, or do without it. And silverware! More tedious maddening maneuvering of the Knee Rover.

But perhaps the most frustrating aspect of this, all of this house-bound experience, is, I'M BEING FOLLOWED!

Every move I make, there is a presence in front of me, or behind me, and it is my aging Corgi, Fritty-Girl. Hip dysplasia has rendered her back legs useless, so I am intoning (some might call that SCREAMING) "MOVE, FRITTY!!!" seemingly all day and all night. Every move I make she positions herself, like a sphinx, guarding/blocking my path.

And her sad condition dictates her glacial pace at getting out of the way of the rubber tires of the Knee Rover.  So we stop. We start. We Backup. Always on the move, haltingly...

By 11pm, I am mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted, my shoulders and hips are screaming at me from the daily overuse and my spirit is bruised from the various indignities of the day.

But this thing, it isn't life-threatening. It isn't terminal. This too shall pass. But not soon enough for me.

My first post

Long time no see...

I think I abandoned this space when I discovered Facebook. The time track seems about right. And isn't that a sorry excuse to abandon one's stated passion, one's raison d'etre for being on the planet in the first place?

But the hoary truth is that the blog - the daily write - the communing on page with whoever might be out there, never took hold in my soul, past the first few weeks of being newly retired.

Lacking any deadline other than elastic self-imposed and easily forgotten ones, I gave up on me, and quickly became satisfied with firing off fiery or truculent comments in the WaPo or NYT. I condensed my passion into short paragraphs (but not quite tweets) that may have been succinct but were rarely a stretch of my writing chops.

And one excuse I will provide is, I wasn't reading much in the way of good writing, and wasn't doing much besides entertaining myself online. The creative well was pretty parched so the subjects didn't arise or inspire.

I would like to change that.

The glimmer of hope that buoys me is that I am once again reading good writing, thanks in no small measure to the BTBabes book club. Agreeing to join the book club last winter meant I actually had to READ books, rather than merely buy them and let them gather dust on the bedside table. And since my ability to focus on one thing for more than 20 minutes seems to get harder with each advancing month, I decided to incorporate audiobooks into the mix, so I could "read" while on my daily walks. In a sense, audiobooks have saved my writing or literary life, since they have enabled me to hear and follow along what I am reading on a printed (or iPadded) page. An enormous weight lifted with that realization, since one of the planned joys of retirement was the opportunity to read more.

And walk more. Six years almost to the day of having retired, and I'm just now getting with the program. I began walking in earnest last Fall, to coincide with getting serious about weight loss. Listening to music while walking was a good start, as I could calibrate my pace to beats-per-minute high-energy tunes (thanks to iTunes) and get my heart rate elevated beyond what is required sitting in this chair in front of this 27" inertia control panel.

For me, walking really is a moving meditation. It gets me at once out of the house and out of my head, and insists I deal with the world as it comes at me, birds tweeting, cars passing, skies waiting to be admired. And once I got accustomed to hustling around the 'hood to the music at a fast clip, substituting audiobooks became a welcome intellectual change of pace. I traded Rihanna and Beyonce for Roseann Cash, Elizabeth Gilbert, Ann Patchett, Kathryn Stockett and Jeannette Walls. They made more than worthy walking partners!

And so, I hope to be a more deliberate (daily???) partner here, once my walk has invigorated my body and my books have planted seeds of wonder or revelation in my mind.

Ciao!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Where You Sit is Where You Stand

I am a Barack Obama fan. He is the first political figure since Bill Clinton to galvanize my heart and mind into clear focus when it comes to having a vision for America and the world at large that I agree with wholeheartedly.

So I cannot adequately describe how let down and angered I am at his apparent decision to let bygones be bygones on the subject of US-approved torture.

At this moment in time, it appears as though Barack Obama has given everyone involved a free-pass. The president who okayed the decision (I'm sure he didn't actually make the decision), the vice president who master-minded the concept that it was perfectly fine to do whatever the darker side of man could conceive to elicit truth from terrorists, the admin hacks who dotted the I's and crossed the T for torture, the Justice Dept lawyers and cronies who elegantly drafted the loop-holed laws that would make crimes against man and nature bullet and reprisal-proof, and the military goons who went mindlessly along with an order that proved they were neither officers nor gentlemen.

For a man who promised to break the mold of political persuasion, and elevate the national dialogue (thanks to Aaron Sorkin), Barack Obama has repeatedly shown a persistent cowardice when it comes to political courage to face down detractors on both sides of the aisle. He seems to be preoccupied with currying favor, or at the very least, not incurring the wrath, of an opposition party so in disarray no GOP member could get elected to dog catcher, except maybe in Alaska.

To paraphrase another Sorkin president, he seems to be still too busy running for president rather than accepting the fact that the election is over and it is time to BE president.

And what is worse, he is too comfortable and self-assured in the role of Solomon, making the grand gesture in white-washing these seminal fissures in the Geneva Conventions behind a wall of political expediency. He is mortgaging his political capital to buy votes later on healthcare, energy and education, when he already has iron-clad proof that no Republican is interested in selling this president anything that will move our country forward, under his name.

Barack Obama is a student of history. Behind his calm, glacial demeanor is a mind that can be both calculating and visionary. He has captured the minds and hearts and hopes of people around this country and around the world. This is the defining moment for him to decide where he sits and where he ultimately will stand.

The world is watching, and waiting.

A New Year.... Same Old Me

I'm a little late in the annual "taking stock" of my life, but better late than never.

I guess we always focus on what is wrong or undisciplined about ourselves when we make these benign promises to lose weight or stop smoking or be nicer or get more exercise or do something better than we've done it in the past.

And maybe (ya think??!!) I'm too sensitive, but a recent set-to with a friend brought into clear relief that doing something well -- doing ANYTHING well -- and stopping to feel good about it is a very healthy practice. Likewise, taking note when someone ELSE does something they are pleased with, and giving them an ATTA GIRL, is also a good practice. God knows, after the last eight years with Bozo's hand on the rudder, we have plenty to feel bad about that was none of our choosing.

I've always tried to be grateful for the blessings that come my way, but I also tend to wallow in self-loathing when I've screwed up or made a really bad decision or succumbed to some temptation that my "better angels" warned me against. We are each our own fiercest critics and harshest jury/judge. But self-flagellation or recrimination has never been an effective deterrent for me. I learn more by doing or repeating what makes me feel good than I do by hating myself for something that went awry.

So in 2009, I'm going to step up my sometime habit of highlighting what is good in the world around me. If it is something that I do that feels right, I'm going to bask in that glow a little longer. And when it happens around me, whether it is friend or stranger, I'm going to take note and slow that person down just long enough for them to have a chance to feel the warmth that comes from someone else noticing a good deed or a job well done.

Feeling more comfortable in my own skin - even if that skin is going to be 59 in March - is a good start to helping others see the good in themselves. Who knows, it could be contagious!

Peace.

QUOTE OF THE WEEK:

I’ve always believed that America’s government was a unique political system — one designed by geniuses so that it could be run by idiots. I was wrong. No system can be smart enough to survive this level of incompetence and recklessness by the people charged to run it.

Thomas L. Friedman
NY Times
October 1, 2008

There She Goes Again!

The Week That Was... and Still Is

Since I watch all talk TV all the time, I have heard many strange and revelatory things in the last few weeks.  Chief among them, from the opposition media, is a bald faced admission, when pressed by the likes of Anderson Cooper, Chris Matthews, David Gregory, et al, that:  "Do you think John Q voter is going to be interested  or concerned about this kind of hair-splitting?"  Of course, the hair-splitting that had just occurred, or the reason for the question, was that they had just been caught in a lie and admitted that the spin they were placing on the issue du jour was total spin or total prevarication by design.

So I was struck that they assumed no one was watching and so they could admit their lies and deceit because John Q public really didn't care what the facts were, they knew the voters were tuned in to some other (read:culture) frequency.  I don't know that I agree with that assumption, altho I will confess I probably watch more talk TV than the average bear -- but maybe not, or more specifically, maybe not this time or this election.  One of the benefits of "ratcheting up the base" on both sides, and I do believe both sides have accomplished that 'no mean feat,' is that voters are more attuned to nuance.  And altho I despair at the protracted length modern presidential campaigns have grown to, one of the chief benefits is longer exposure to folks you aren't quite sure about.  So that gives fence sitters (if indeed there are a lot of them still extant) more time to see the poseurs for what they are. Or are not.

I think in 2000 the country went along with Bush's selection because they were just bone tired of Clinton and his antics.  A national shrug of the shoulders.  And in our collective innocence, the nation knew not what devastation lay ahead domestically, financially or strategically.  So we didn't give much thought to the kind of mettle we might need in the Oval Office.  The lull that happens in a peace time economy makes us forgetful of the mental strength and vision we need at the helm when all hell breaks loose, and believe me, all hell broke loose once we had a true jackass in the White House.  If ever there was a rationale for us to elect someone Jed Bartlett like, who has a natural inquisitiveness backed by years of hard won learned scholarship to their credit, THE TIME IS NOW.  

Which brings me to my most surprising discovery of last night.

I was burning the 2am oil this morning trying to escape infomercials, and came upon a recent edition of AFTERwords... hosted by David Broder and featuring George Will, discussing his new book.  IT WAS FASCINATING.  Since Will has always been an arch conservative and I have always been his polar opposite, I never pay him much mind, altho I love reading his columns because I love to analyze his very gifted mind.  Thru the course of the interview or discussion, most of which went specifically to the history of the world as it has played out over the last 2 weeks, he spoke of the next president in singular terms: Barack Obama.  Every question he fielded from Broder about what the next president would need or would bring or would find once in office, was told singularly from the Barack Obama perspective.  

Initially, I felt like I had awoken from some 2 month sleep, election day had already occurred, and Barack was already confirmed.  And he spoke of Obama with equanimity rather than enmity or rancor, suggesting ways he might pull us out of this morass, enumerating the assets he held as a human/scholar/leader etc that would assist him as he began to lead the country.  Perhaps I dreamt it, but if I indeed was conscious, at least one learned arch conservative (and probably John McCain hater) has already conceded the election to Barry.  And Will seemed to have confidence in that concession.  

Of course, Will also suspects that like all ultra liberal presidents before him, Barack will also usher in all manner of 'over the top' new social programs that will break the bank and tax the country back into believing in arch fiscal conservatism in due time.  But he wouldn't be George Will if he believed otherwise.

But like Renee Zellwenger in Jerry Maguire, George Will had me at hello when he admitted toward the end of the interview that writing was his first love, even above baseball, which has been his passion since the age of 7.  He spoke so nakedly about the act of writing and the shear "almost physical" pleasure he derives from writing, that I felt an immediate kinship with him that READING his writing has never sparked in me.  Not that he isn't a classically trained and remarkably astute or even gifted writer --  those are all givens.  But the confession was worth the price of admission, even at 2am EDT.  At that moment, we were complicit lovers.

On to November 4th -- Barack Obama '08!

Peace.

-- Heart

The Summer is Waning...

But I'm not whining ...  

This has been a wonderful summer in every way I can measure!

The weather has been darn near perfect!

The rain may never fall till after sundown.
By eight, the morning fog must disappear.

OK, it wasn't Camelot but close to it.  

The company...

I had friends visit from home and spent some wonderful evenings in their company, reminding me that distance or time away are not barriers to the joy and easy camaraderie of friendship.

I met some quality correspondents online, and exchanged ideas and viewpoints with them that bridged the mileage that will keep us virtual friends. 

I reconnoitered with a few folks from the recent past whose connection had frayed acrimoniously, and learned that an olive branch makes a good bridge between past and future, hurt and healing.

The beach...

I spent some good face time with the ocean on days in August we usually can't expect here until early October.  The high cost of gas has kept the seasonal crowds and road gridlock to manageable levels.  And 

I put some good time into my yard and this year it paid off.

The books and workshops...

I read some very good books that were not "how to's" for the passion du jour.  One of the books, Three Cups of Tea, sparked an interest in learning more about Central Asia and the pros and cons of battling terrorism with education in the Taliban's back yard.

I took a workshop for "creative artists" and discovered I was one, when they gave my photo top honors.  Who knew???!!!

The body and mind...

I have had a 'come to jesus' moment with myself about getting in better shape.  That includes a couple new daily rituals: a 30 min walk, a 30 min bike ride, eating more protein and less junk, eating more often but smaller portions, eating more fish and less pasta, and snacking on fruit and roasted soy nuts instead of Jujyfruits, potato chips and ice cream. 

I am still plagued by a few physical irritations: the Achilles has not healed to perfection and makes sustained mobility-driven exercise fatiguing. Long hours at the computer have weakened my lower back muscles (poor posture!) and golfing only seems to exacerbate the problem.  But as with most physical issues, pushing through or past them is always worth the effort, either in results or psychic enjoyment.

I have come to accept that my family won't visit nearly as often as I'd like them to, and that has brought a heightened appreciation and gratefulness to me when I do see them.

The balance...

Given all of the above, I seem to have finally struck a balance in retirement, after working at it for the past 4 summers.  

The bottom line...

If Justice is getting what you deserve;

Mercy is not getting what you deserve; and

Grace is getting what you don't deserve...

I live in a perpetual state of Grace.

Peace.

-- Heart

Commitment

This week, the State of California made history by overturning the ban on same-sex marriages.  Across the nation, gay and lesbian couples celebrated the news and online GLBT social networking sites were abuzz with what that might mean in their own states, while same-sex celebrity couples made plans for their own nuptials.  

I was certainly glad to hear the news, but it didn't create the groundswell of hope and longing in me that it did for many of my friends.  

At first thought, this was a puzzler, since I am pro-justaboutanythingGLBT-related.  But as I sat this morning drinking my coffee on the front porch of the house I share with two darling corgis and no other humans, it came to me that I am not a joiner.  I am a dropper-inner.  And while I love being in the company of good friends and enjoy a wide variety of interests and hobbies and addictions and fads, in truth I am a very social loner.  

In my life, I have enjoyed the company and soul-connection of a handful of very quality women. Some for a few months, and a few for several years.  To my mind, each of those women brought a vision or glimmer into my life and my world that was lacking or unrealized.  And while we might mutually cite a million reasons for why we came together in the first place, and a million more for why we eventually parted, I am certain that the prime factor resides within me.    

And while I continue to seek out my soulmate - at least in theory - in practice, I am quite comfortable living my solitary life, enjoying those chance connections with like-minded women when they occur, reveling in the passion and shared bliss that we create for that moment in time, and mourning the loss when it inevitably runs its course.  Hindsight may or may not always be 20-20!

Experience has taught me that I am not a good cohabitor.  Relationships are 75% hard work and compromise, and for the last 15 years, I have equated compromise with 'settling.'    When I review the qualities that stood my first relationship in good stead for 13 years, I can only attribute it to dumb luck. 

Absent that first love, I really don't have a reliable relationship model to copy or emulate.

In the poet's heart that beats in my breast, I want to believe that every choice in a partner is inherently good, if both are willing to work and make good decisions and informed compromises.  I can see that relationship in my mind's eye, off in the distance.  It is so clear and real I can almost taste it.  But I have lost the roadmap.   

So while I applaud and celebrate the news that sprung from the "activist judges" in California, I do so from the cheap seats high in the far reaches of the stadium -- not the box seats that lead onto the playing field.

-- HeartSleeve 

Are you RIGHT brain or LEFT brain?

I am truly ruled by my right brain... I don't make lists, I see several possible routes to a desired outcome, I hate following directions, and my eyes completely glaze over at the mere thought of reading a technical manual (like the ones that come with all my exotic cameras and electronic gizmos). So I offer anyone who happens upon this page the opportunity to chart your own course and see what side of your brain generally decides your future!

Enjoy!

Right Brain/ Left Brain Quiz
The higher of these two numbers below indicates which side of your brain has dominance in your life. Realising your right brain/left brain tendancy will help you interact with and to understand others.
Left Brain Dominance:	(6)
Right Brain Dominance:	(14)
Right Brain/ Left Brain Quiz

Giving Thanks

I know Thanksgiving is still a week or so away, but that holiday is on my mind lately for several reasons.  

Thanksgiving has always been a "Mom" related day, because her birthday regularly fell that day (every six years or so) and it was probably her favorite day of the year, since it had all of the "family" of Christmas but none of the stress of gift buying/giving/getting/returning.  And so I give thanks every year that this provides a perfect occasion to celebrate Mom, although I try to do that every breathing minute of my life.

This year there's an added wrinkle.  For the first time since I was in the Peace Corps (and that seems like another lifetime ago,) I will not be sharing the day surrounded by my sisters and their families.  I am having foot surgery and Achilles tendonitis surgery the day BEFORE Thanksgiving, and that will preclude any travel plans for me, not just for this holiday, but for 6-8 total NON-weight bearing weeks.  My aunt will be tasked with caring for me (she of course volunteered graciously) for some of that time, until I can safely navigate the confines of my house without a personal assistant.  For that I am exceedingly grateful.  

Josie has really stepped energetically into the surrogate Mother role since 1999, and she is always fun to have around.  For a time.  We are both Pisces.  We share many characteristics.  And after a bit, we get on each others' nerves and say so.  This time, she will not have the luxury of hying herself to her apartment when my crankiness meets her stubbornness.  Or vice versa.  So I am hoping I don't abuse her good generous nature during my convalescence.

I am also grateful every one of my Delaware circle of friends (all of whom I've met in the last two years) has called and offered either support or help or a kind word or a getaway car if I change my mind.  It is heartwarming and illustrates the tenor and mettle of the community of women I have had the good fortune to meet since my emigration to Delaware.

And at the other end of the spectrum, I'm grateful that I have the wherewithall (read: health insurance) that will cover this surgery and the "turning leg caddy" that will enable me to get around more easily here at home after the surgery, and live without pain (hopefully) after  I'm fully recuperated for the first time in over three years.

It is true that my convalescence will wipe out Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years as I've previously enjoyed or experienced those happy holidays, but given that many are in far worse circumstances AND FAR MORE DANGEROUS PLACES, I've got quite a lot to be thankful for, and I'm very very grateful for that.

PEACE.    And Happy Holidays!

-- HeartSleeve

Wine Imitating Art

      Eiffel Tower at on an unseasonably warm spring night, how romantic!

Among the 2,000 photos of Bordeaux and Paris I took in April 2007 (many of which will grace this space eventually and some which are already up on PBase), a few begged for a bit of artistic license.

I could easily become a "cellar rat!"

As I wandered in awe through cellar after cellar, the scent of ripe fruit mingled with the crispness of new oak like incense in a cathedral after a high mass... and the vessels took on almost sacramental properties.

View from the Vineyard! Bordeaux, That Is!

All I can say is "C'est Magnifique'!"

This was truly a fabulous, hopefully-not "once-in-a-lifetime" trip, because there are many more global wine regions to experience. But the bar (pardon the pun) has been raised to an incredibly high level, given the generous and very special entre' we received at every Chateaux we visited.

We came to Bordeaux on the draft of our friends at Calvert-Woodley Wine shop in DC, and between lucking into that favored airspace and due I'm sure to the savvy and likability of Greg Poirier, our own personal WINE GUY and guide, we were certainly given special treatment and tasted some of the world's most famous (and famously guarded) wines.

These pictures are just a tiny slice of what is still to come, and I have much more to write than this about my magical 10 days in France, but here's a sip to get you started!

Abientot!

Mare

A Riot of Color @ the Philadelphia Flower Show

It was a gorgeously frigid day Tuesday here at the beach when I boarded a charter bus that would take me to the annual Philadelphia Flower Show. At the end of the two-hour ride up Route 1, Philadelphia proved why it is named the City of Brotherly Love. When the bus stopped to allow us to disembark, the city swallowed me in a big hug and dazzled me with its kaleidescope of sights and sounds and smells.

Across the street from the Convention Center, another wonder to behold, the Read Street Market, which is reminiscent of Pike Market in Seattle or Lexington Market in Baltimore -- an adventure for the senses and a reminder that beach life sometimes can be a little sterile.

All I am saying is... GIVE WAR A CHANCE!

Yesterday, thousands of peace-activists marched on Washington, DC in opposition to the Bush "Surge Strategy" for the war in Iraq.

It was no surprise, then, that the old Republican war-horse, former Navy Secretary and notorious political fence sitter, Senator John Warner, decided that public opinion had sufficiently gelled on this issue to the point that it is now safe for him to take a position on the Iraq War. In today's Washington Post, Sen. Warner thusly reflects that:

"I regret that I was not more outspoken" during the Vietnam War. "The Army generals would come in, 'Just send in another five or ten thousand.' You know, month after month. Another ten or fifteen thousand. They thought they could win it. We kept surging in those years. It didn't work."

I'd call that ironic. But there is plenty of irony to go around, these days...

It is ironic that Bush, like many of yesterday's war protesters, is a Baby Boomer who came of age when another unwinnable war, the VietNam war, was raging and claiming lives of thousands of young Americans, while many of us chanted,

"ALL WE ARE SAYING, IS GIVE PEACE A CHANCE."

It is ironic then for Bush to frame his latest request for 'cannon fodder' to fuel the war in Iraq, and the wanton waste of life and destruction of more American families, by insisting,

"ALL I AM SAYING IS, GIVE WAR A CHANCE."

It is ironic that to THE DECIDER, his losing face is of greater national consequence than America losing 21,000+ more American lives.

I'd call that the height of irony.

P E A C E ...

HeartSleeve

NEWSFLASH: George Bush Lied on Camera! (yawn...)

Wednesday November8, 2006 was a wildly compelling day to watch television news. Against the backdrop of finalizing election returns and results, a stunning portrait of American politics and governance was playing out for everyone to see. And although each character had a clearly identifiable role to play, watching it unfold under the glare of television camera lights was at once illuminating and breathtaking in its clarity.

George W. Bush reprised his role of the inarticulate and yet unbending leader of the Republican Party, divorced from current reality and unable to seemingly grasp the sea change he both orchestrated and yet got snared in. Caught scriptless by the cameras and a cadre of national news reporters who were unabashed in their efforts to eke out admissions of missteps or signs of any newfound flexibility in the President's attitude toward forging new paths, Bush squirmed and bristled and ultimately got caught in a political prevarication. And immediately got called on it. But that wasn't news to anyone who has had their ear to the ground over the last six years.

A few hours later, in the Oval Office, Bush was relentless in his praise of the man and mentor he had been forced to cut loose, lavishing praise on Donald H. Rumsfeld that would humble and embarass any mere mortal. It was painfully clear that despite the resounding roar of disapproval from the American people Bush has just endured 24 hours earlier, his faith in his Secretary of Defense was not shaken. It was also obvious that this resignation was borne more of political expediency than of any "coming to Jesus" over the misguided course of American activity in Iraq and the Middle East.

Enter Rummy, stage left. Where Bush had been cranky and defensive in his tone and tenor, Rumsfeld took the lecturn with a Quixotic look in his eye. Once again, as has been his mein since he wrestled control of foreign and defense policy first from Colin Powell and then Condi Rice, Rumsfeld tried to explain to the pathetically misguided media and ignorant American populace that we just weren't smart enough to grasp the complexities of this war.

"The fault, Dear Brutus, is not in the stars, it is in ourselves!" We just didn't GET IT!

And that's a big "we" that, to Rumsfeld's mind, includes not just the irresponsible media who dogged him or the American people who lost faith in him, that "we" also fatally included the generals charged with carrying out his ill-conceived directives and who withered under his rigid inability to take their counsel, borne of battlefield reality, to heart.

To the last moment of his time upon the stage, Rumsfeld was unbowed and unburdened of the truth. And as his champion looked on in pained frustration, enter Robert M. Gates, 41's CIA director, to take the helm and pick up the pieces.

While I have not one ounce of faith in any administration headed by George W. Bush, I hold out a glimmer of hope that a former CIA Director will have the moral courage to convince Bush Junior FINALLY of this simple truth: that the key to keeping us safe from terrorist activity on American soil is and has always been a combination of well articulated diplomacy bolstered by a strong and relentless Central Intelligence Agency capable of sniffing out, intercepting and averting the next plane (or dirty bomb) before it gets here.

Hubris has no place in American domestic or foreign policy. If George W. Bush has learned anything in the last week, I hope he realizes now that spreading democracy across the Middle East is not and never was his job. Keeping us safe is. And he can do that best by keeping his mouth shut and letting his experts do the talking.

PEACE!

-- HeartSleeve

Oh Happy, Happy Day!

Pelosi Set to Take House Leadership
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/video/2006/11/08/VI2006110800113.html?referrer=emaillink

You can tell you are having a bad day when all your friends are mad at you, your enemies have just moved into BOTH of your upstairs bedrooms, and the media just wants to remind you of gross inconsistencies between what you insisted last week was best for America versus what you have decided we need this week.

When reminded of his change of direction and seeming prevarication, George exclaimed, "What, do you think I'm nuts??"

Don't get me started.

Why does the word 'bipartisan' sound like an ugly lie when it falls begrudgingly from his lips? And why can't I can't shake the nagging suspicion that the actions today coming out of the White House amounted to nothing more than Rove convincing the President that the gesture of ousting the architect of our failed foreign policy would buy Mr. Bush time to regain his composure in the face of a resounding indictment of STAY THE COURSE.

As usual, the press conference was almost like watching the Daily Show... he contradicted himself, rambled and mumbled, sneered and smirked and admitted he didn't see this tsunami of citizen outrage coming.

And I believe that statement.

Our Commander and Thief has been clueless and out of touch with what Americans are thinking since at least mid to late 2003. Whether that is because Cheney, Rove and Rummy have been Master Puppeteers since Bush was first selected, or because he simply refuses to consider or reexamine his options and stances once he has handed in his homework, who knows?

What is clear today, however, is that the American people have emphatically exercised their Constitutional right to CHANGE THE COURSE when selected leaders repeatedly turn a deaf ear to their concerns.

To everyone who felt so moved to make their voice heard yesterday, Welcome home!

-- Heartsleeve