I have to run back and make a few corrections (and I already made a splash with doing that yesterday-) They say that news is the first draft of history. I say blogs are the first draft of the news. I usually don't publish anything without at least ten drafts, except these, which I do go over twice, sometimes three times-- but obviously I'm losing my mojo. Blame the slush. Or the darkness, Or living sort of alone for two weeks while Chip is hunting, but I apologize.
Ashley just called from the school, and said the gym floor dedication is Friday NOT Saturday as previously blogged. I apologize. At least you can still attend. Although I can't, since I'll be singing at the Bald Eagle Foundation. Sorry for the misinformation, and that I can't be there, but I'm sure I'll get to admire the new floor a lot this winter, as we cheer on the Glacier Bears.
On the radio this morning Tom reminded everyone of what a busy "bird week" this is-- what with eaglefest followed so closely by Thanksgiving. (Good thing that old Ben Franklin didn't get his wish and make our national bird a turkey. Then we might be eating eagles.) The annual eagle festival is offering tours in the eagle preserve, and lots of neat lectures and presentations for guests and locals alike. Here's the full schedule.
"The term 'political' means to me that there are some opposing parties to a given idea. Communism is political. Capitalism is political. Who's gonna take out the garbage is political. But peace? C'mon. Is there a person on the face of this earth that hasn't stood up at one time or another and yelled, "Holy mackerel, what's a body gotta do to get some peace around here?" -Tom Bodett from his book Small Comforts.
I have been a little busy-- what with leg surgery stuff, Ted's thing, getting ready for winter, the family far and near, writing-- and just this morning chasing a hawk out of the chicken coop-- so forgive me for not posting a few more pictures. I do add them to facebook, but forget that a lot of you don't go there, which is probably a good thing. You're not missing much. I'm thinking it is time for a facebook fast myself and have decided to take more walks instead. Like my friend Merry always says, there's no such thing as bad weather, just bad gear.
I am so glad that I don't have to keep checking the web, listening to the radio and clicking back and forth between opposing news channels on the TV anymore-- the election sucked my time like a black hole. It also made me very anxious for what turns out was no reason. The other thing that struck me when the Obama's came on stage was how much can change in a family in four years. The president's daughters aren't little girls anymore. They have changed more, it seems, than our politics, or the country, and no matter how you voted, that should be a head's up to pay attention.
My husband's hunting buddy called this morning, just like he does every morning, and he asked how the weather was over here on Mud Bay where all the hippies live, and I said lovely. The sun is out, it is a new day dawning, full of hope and change. (It is raining and gray, but I love election day.) He laughed. Then I asked if he voted, and he said yes, and I joked, "For my guy Obama?"
"Yes Ma'am I did."
What?--- "You're joking right?"
This morning my husband is pretending to make microphone noises like a rapper. "How do I sound?" He says. He has been packing for his annual deer hunt, and yesterday was making sounds he said were like a doe, and since I hadn't had my coffee yet I was a little confused. "Like a male deer? What are they called again?" "A buck." How could I forget that. Did you know that's why we call a dollar a buck? Because in Daniel Boone's day a deer hide was worth a dollar? This is one of those things that a history major doesn't forget. Like all politics is local.
"Guide the people of this land, and of all the nations, in the ways of justice and peace, that we may honor one another and serve the common good. Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer."-- From the Book of Common Prayer