w00t w00t booyah

Getting my morning cup of joe. Joe Starbucks, that is. Corner store, they know me well and everything - been there a ton of times.

And of course, I'm in a hurry and need to get out of there as fast as I got in. Running behind again.

There's a line. It's a Starbucks, it's morning, there's a line.

Today, it has a Dad and two sons. Older one is 13 if I'm a day, probably 12 and 175 lbs and as tall as Dad. Younger brother is 9, I could give him 10...and 55 lbs dripping wet. Won't reach MY shoulder, let alone Dad's.

I peruse the baked goods. Pumpkin bread? Pumpkin scone? Thinking about pumpkin spice lattes...and then?

*smack*

What the -

Yup. Big brother just hit little brother. HARD. As I watched, he did it again. Dad? Did nothing. Ordered the drinks and stepped to the bar.

Meanwhile, younger is trying to give as good as he got, and made it very clear verbally to 'get your hands OFF me!' For his trouble, his brother punched him again. Ha ha.

Dad...did nothing. Did not even make eye contact with either kid. Got his hot drink and went to doctor it.

Then left the store.

The kids are alone, waiting for two blended drinks. Big kid looks up and gets The Glare.

You know this one. The 'I saw what you did there, you do it again while we BOTH know I don't like it and I am gonna SCREAM SO LOUD....' glare.

Oops. Waved a bit and folded his hands. Good boy.

One got a vanilla frapp, the other one got strawberry. Big kid's was better, little kid's was stupid. I know, I got the pleasure of following them out to their car, where Dad was sitting listening to the radio.

Out of state plates. Van conversion. What are the odds. My mind is weighing both kinds of stories.

Y'see, I know when the economy starts picking up - that's when the out of state plates start showing up here, looking for work. They've been doing that since the Great Depression. Whether they find anything or not is something else entirely -

The flip side is that people move here and to avoid paying registration fees and having to meet emission standards, they never change the plates.

There's no Mom. And Dad was so passive, one has to wonder what's going on. There was no iPod, no cell phone conversation. He was right there and did nothing.

So angry. I want both those kids. I want to hand both those kids to Jim and then take that Dad apart. I can understand a lot. I can listen to anything. But dammit, it's not even NINE O'CLOCK and you're TIRED? You're WHAT.

Send one of them outside. Do something. Oh, I got ideas, bucko.

You don't hit people - and you don't pick on someone smaller than you just for the ugly fun of it.

I seriously doubt I'll cross paths with them again. I can only hope that happens in a Starbucks with a cop in it. A few more minutes and this morning's store would have.

Welcome to the living room of America, these days. Honestly.

Okay. Two things happened yesterday.

One, school got a letter from therapist (at my urging) outlining kid being seen in a therapeutic environment, meeting criteria for separation anxiety.

Two, his teacher is on vacation and he has a substitute.

So...that means at the end of the day, the substitute decides kid is going on field trip tomorrow to go bumper bowling with the rest of his class.

Phone call, everything. They called both of us until they reached one of us. (Me? On phone dealing with appointments. Go figure.)

Jim already had the day off to take him to the new school to check them - so that had to be rescheduled, but. He's going along on field trip - he just can't ride the bus with kid to do it. I'm fine with that.

So - in one fell swoop, I have kid back on field trips and parent allowed to attend and observe. Note things one and two.

I've told Jim I want answers. Too good. Waaaay too easy, with the month and a half we've put in.

If this is a teacher issue, not a school issue - end result is the same, but I'm going to be even less impressed.

But - I hope kid has a great time. He's earned it.

Me? Waiting for the other shoe to fall.

Okay. Two things happened yesterday.

One, school got a letter from therapist (at my urging) outlining kid being seen in a therapeutic environment, meeting criteria for separation anxiety.

Two, his teacher is on vacation and he has a substitute.

So...that means at the end of the day, the substitute decides kid is going on field trip tomorrow to go bumper bowling with the rest of his class.

Phone call, everything. They called both of us until they reached one of us. (Me? On phone dealing with appointments. Go figure.)

Jim already had the day off to take him to the new school to check them - so that had to be rescheduled, but. He's going along on field trip - he just can't ride the bus with kid to do it. I'm fine with that.

So - in one fell swoop, I have kid back on field trips and parent allowed to attend and observe. Note things one and two.

I've told Jim I want answers. Too good. Waaaay too easy, with the month and a half we've put in.

If this is a teacher issue, not a school issue - end result is the same, but I'm going to be even less impressed.

But - I hope kid has a great time. He's earned it.

Me? Waiting for the other shoe to fall.

Have you seen these? Tell me and I'll shut up.

Wiscon has said 'nope, not this year you don't', and withdrawn their invitation to be Guest of Honor.

About the only thing I've said about Pookie Moon's post was that it was new asphalt and striping on the road to hell - all good intentions, really AWFUL way to go about it. I could go into detail, but others have to better effect - really.

Truly? Taking it up at Wiscon? Not the right place, approach or even WHAT about it. What, are you guys going to sit around the table insisting the victims justify their experience as victims again? Thanks, Wiscon. Maybe next year for Pookie. Maybe. But this year?

When you sound more like Angela Merkel than is comfortable, perhaps something else needs to be discussed, more often and in different venue.

I don't know what you go to a convention for, but this wouldn't be it for me. Just saying.

Jeez, like this IS something you could take up and put down at leisure anyway. WHAT.

Also, looking at the comments on the Wiscon post, the 'what are you TALKING about' is strong with this bunch. Which dovetails nicely into this one - A newspaper in Maine has shut down its reader comments while it reconsiders its policies. The Portland Press-Herald did so, the publisher writes, to "protect the public, our readers, and the subjects of our stories" from "hurtful and vulgar" comments.

Coming on the heels of 'Spirit Day' - intended to be an opportunity to awaken public opinion to the concept of bullying - this is pertinent. Really, in the current CW, you get what you deserve if you read the comments. Which is the urge to spork your eyes out and desire very directed air strikes towards very specific targets. Repeatedly.

I really have to say I like this policy. You want to comment on a story, write a letter to the editor - and you always, always, ALWAYS have that right. Nobody's taking that away from you, bub.

But doing the virtual version of spraying your name and profanities on a public place really can come to an end anytime, says I. The ability to comment so has been a privilege, not a right and if it been used like a gas station bathroom, time for it to go.

Quit rewarding derp and maybe the derp will end. One can only hope.

Once again, a weekend that worked. At least it did for me - your mileage may vary, and if you're Jim, that definitely is the case. If he'll tell you about what Sundays have turned into for him, good on ya. Frankly, the air is still blue 'round these parts and it's well-earned. Onward.

Saturday had Rockets. As in, fwoosh into the big sky, look out below and all that. We had stomp rockets, which are impressive only until the big boys set up and play. Jim shot video. Hopefully, that will be viewable soon. (Props and thanks to western_slope and betnoir - and yes, we'll be doing it again Real Soon.) Hrm. You guys did know I found a wee Sierra Club offshoot kid could do, right? If himself does Whitney again, he may have company in a few years.

I do like my church. I do like my denomination. Sunday's reading was I Timothy 6:6-19, which is the 'root of all evils' stuff, but stops short of the popular 'shun wealth in favor of God' stuff later in the chapter, which is the one you hear more often. (Um, BTW? It's not root of all evils, but root of all kinds of evils. Just saying.) In this, Christian teaching dovetails very nicely with the Buddhist approach of divest, divest, it'll only cause you great pain, divest! that one finds. Kind of like the same thing was talking or something. If you'd like, my denomination is going to be having fun with the general public leading up to 'invite a friend to church day' November 7th. You want, you can has. I may drop Anne Rice's office a note.

We don't have stained glass windows, but plain glass that overlooks the flower gardens planted outside...and the quad between the sanctuary and the church house. Kid has a new teacher, who just started with him last week - that may have explained the clingy kid I had all of a sudden Sunday, but she certainly was a game duck. I could hear the delighted sounds of my kid getting away from someone at full pelt and saw them running across the quad during the sermon. Um, they were playing Star Wars together. Yes, yes they were.

Now, take that with you while I take my kid through the drive-through at McDonalds and then to the park where we eat our lunches and play a bit before going home for nappage. We are joined by two small brothers and what I thought was an auntie, very interested in kid's choice of lunch, the accompanying toys (Mom got a Happy Meal too, don't judge) and so forth. One produced a toy he'd 'found' and then they moved off.

The boys came back, sans 'auntie' - who I quickly found out was 'nobody to them.' Where are your parents, then?

Dad, his girlfriend, some step-sibs and maybe an older sib were in the megachurch next door. His mother was in Montclair. They? Were not wanted during services, so they were there with this person who was nobody to them, I had a hard time spotting once they were separated from her and yeah. I think 7 and 4, and very aware of their value on the open market. Hungry, too.

Stay classy, Manhattan Beach. That happens again next week, I'm going to go find me an asshole to refit. The more I think about it, the more tempting this becomes, mind you. (For those of you playing at home? Montclair is in San Bernardino County, which IS the poorest County in California, per square mile. Manhattan Beach? You don't talk about multiples of thousands when you talk home prices. You talk multiples of millions. Think of Chicago and Pekin. Worse. I lived there. Some of the people on my FL still do. How visitation is arranged, when these kids can't even stay in a seat next to their parent for an hour eludes me. The drive is an hour and a half. Take the train? I can't imagine.)

Some people have children waaaay too easily. And then they date outside of their bank accounts hoping to trade up. Next time, I'll just call DCFS while I take them to McDonalds.

God, that's two weekends in a row. Last one was the goldfish that ate my lunch money and now this.

My kid? I'd be flattered, but the suddent clingy is out of character and I worry about hyper-vigilance. I forsee a lot of cuddle time this week - that's what you do. Sunday? Three and a half hour nap - really out of character. So I mention it to teachers at school this morning and have my eye on him. You want to ruin me, scare him. And something has him a bit spooked, or maybe it's just a phase. Halloween is on the way, with all the scary billboards and schtuffs around. Whatever. He's stalling at night and fearful when he wakes up. Not cool.

The heat has arrived, and taking appropriate precautions. I forsee soup and sammies for dinner tonight.

Once again, a weekend that worked. At least it did for me - your mileage may vary, and if you're Jim, that definitely is the case. If he'll tell you about what Sundays have turned into for him, good on ya. Frankly, the air is still blue 'round these parts and it's well-earned. Onward.

Saturday had Rockets. As in, fwoosh into the big sky, look out below and all that. We had stomp rockets, which are impressive only until the big boys set up and play. Jim shot video. Hopefully, that will be viewable soon. (Props and thanks to western_slope and betnoir - and yes, we'll be doing it again Real Soon.) Hrm. You guys did know I found a wee Sierra Club offshoot kid could do, right? If himself does Whitney again, he may have company in a few years.

I do like my church. I do like my denomination. Sunday's reading was I Timothy 6:6-19, which is the 'root of all evils' stuff, but stops short of the popular 'shun wealth in favor of God' stuff later in the chapter, which is the one you hear more often. (Um, BTW? It's not root of all evils, but root of all kinds of evils. Just saying.) In this, Christian teaching dovetails very nicely with the Buddhist approach of divest, divest, it'll only cause you great pain, divest! that one finds. Kind of like the same thing was talking or something. If you'd like, my denomination is going to be having fun with the general public leading up to 'invite a friend to church day' November 7th. You want, you can has. I may drop Anne Rice's office a note.

We don't have stained glass windows, but plain glass that overlooks the flower gardens planted outside...and the quad between the sanctuary and the church house. Kid has a new teacher, who just started with him last week - that may have explained the clingy kid I had all of a sudden Sunday, but she certainly was a game duck. I could hear the delighted sounds of my kid getting away from someone at full pelt and saw them running across the quad during the sermon. Um, they were playing Star Wars together. Yes, yes they were.

Now, take that with you while I take my kid through the drive-through at McDonalds and then to the park where we eat our lunches and play a bit before going home for nappage. We are joined by two small brothers and what I thought was an auntie, very interested in kid's choice of lunch, the accompanying toys (Mom got a Happy Meal too, don't judge) and so forth. One produced a toy he'd 'found' and then they moved off.

The boys came back, sans 'auntie' - who I quickly found out was 'nobody to them.' Where are your parents, then?

Dad, his girlfriend, some step-sibs and maybe an older sib were in the megachurch next door. His mother was in Montclair. They? Were not wanted during services, so they were there with this person who was nobody to them, I had a hard time spotting once they were separated from her and yeah. I think 7 and 4, and very aware of their value on the open market. Hungry, too.

Stay classy, Manhattan Beach. That happens again next week, I'm going to go find me an asshole to refit. The more I think about it, the more tempting this becomes, mind you. (For those of you playing at home? Montclair is in San Bernardino County, which IS the poorest County in California, per square mile. Manhattan Beach? You don't talk about multiples of thousands when you talk home prices. You talk multiples of millions. Think of Chicago and Pekin. Worse. I lived there. Some of the people on my FL still do. How visitation is arranged, when these kids can't even stay in a seat next to their parent for an hour eludes me. The drive is an hour and a half. Take the train? I can't imagine.)

Some people have children waaaay too easily. And then they date outside of their bank accounts hoping to trade up. Next time, I'll just call DCFS while I take them to McDonalds.

God, that's two weekends in a row. Last one was the goldfish that ate my lunch money and now this.

My kid? I'd be flattered, but the suddent clingy is out of character and I worry about hyper-vigilance. I forsee a lot of cuddle time this week - that's what you do. Sunday? Three and a half hour nap - really out of character. So I mention it to teachers at school this morning and have my eye on him. You want to ruin me, scare him. And something has him a bit spooked, or maybe it's just a phase. Halloween is on the way, with all the scary billboards and schtuffs around. Whatever. He's stalling at night and fearful when he wakes up. Not cool.

The heat has arrived, and taking appropriate precautions. I forsee soup and sammies for dinner tonight.

"Being right is not as important as doing the right thing."

(My immediate snark is that if you are doing anything, you'd better be sure you're right beforehand, but that's for another day.)

Always do your best.
If you make a mess, clean it up.
And always, always, ALWAYS be aware of your impact on others.

(And blaming the victim is big bad joo-joo and full of what.)

Just a suggestion.

When you call me a hack, before you've seen anything I've ever written - gee, when I'm not even writing anything at all - because you don't like what's between my ears....

Don't expect me to be all warm and fuzzy about it. Or you, for that matter.

It's a shame, but there it is.

Just a suggestion.

When you call me a hack, before you've seen anything I've ever written - gee, when I'm not even writing anything at all - because you don't like what's between my ears....

Don't expect me to be all warm and fuzzy about it. Or you, for that matter.

It's a shame, but there it is.

And I'm still thinking about them. (Told you I did.)

I love this little chalk talk about the portion of the entire US budget the DOD, specifically The Pentagon, gets.

And then I see something like this really Useful Site and get angry.

I'm the one who likes to look at percentages, not actual dollars - but even this pisses me off.

When it comes down to the actual Life in our armed services - the people that make it all work - suddenly, we're back in school and hosting fund raisers to buy them a warm coat in the winter.

The people suddenly MUST BECOME charity cases and become objects of pity. Sickening.

And look - we're spending HOW MUCH on their portion of the GNP again?

People are the expensive part of any budget, to be honest. Where the bleep is the money going if not TO THEM?

Then the local NPR affiliate broadcasts this delightful piece of non-news last night on the drive home.

"Salas says California’s Department of Veterans Affairs isn’t doing a good enough job of that. Only 12 percent of the state’s veterans actually collect the benefits they’re due."

Wonder what it's like elsewhere.

I've had direct experience with the VA in San Bernardino county - the VA there is across the street from the best care anywhere in that county, Loma Linda University Medical Center.

Seriously. The place would not pass a JAHCO inspection to save its life - but it doesn't have to! It's a VA! But they're one of the lucky ones - they can refer across the street, and do. (Loma Linda is a not-for-profit foundation hospital.) Don't forget - it's a benefit, not insurance. If you don't use their facilities - eh. Too bad, so sad, we don't reimburse.

I can hazard a reasonable guess why they're not distributing 'benefits' - seriously, the penal system does a better job of providing services, more of them and so on. (Biggest provider of mental health services in California - the penal system. Yes it is.)

Who would waste their time banging a head against the wall for nothing. I never recommend the VA for services. I'd rather fall back to Medi-Cal/Medicaid and hold car washes. That useless.

And Jim did his clinical in a VA hospital. Ask him if you want more direct reports. What HE has to say is barely repeatable in polite company.

No, veterans deserve more than one day - and an exceptional day at that - and then be treated like ugly foster children on every day including that one thereafter.

That said, things are what they are and I'll be over at Soldier's Angels and the USO as much as I can. It is what it is.

And IT SUCKS.