Nonsense

Life is short
Time is real
So why does it all
Have to be uphill?

Election Cycle?

"Cycle" is defined as a serious of repeating events. At one time, it was an accurate description of the process of electing a President. Since this is now a constant event, electing the President is now an "election drudgery".

You're welcome. Now you can better define your irritation at the constant bombardment of hype, rhetoric, and stupidity.


_ and I have to add a comment on the candidates: They don't sweat, they don't have blemishes, they wear makeup, and not a hair is out of place. It's like we're electing someone to accept the Academy Award, instead of someone to run the United States. We don't elect Presidents anymore; we elect the best supporting actor, or actress, in a movie loosely based on reality. 

Dodging the Bullet

Hurricane Patricia pumped a huge amount of moisture into the atmosphere. The moisture allowed a developing low over the Gulf of Mexico to have more than abundant rain.

Houston received up to 10 inches in some areas, which caused some flooding, but they were prepared, and it appears the damage will be minimal. Locally, it's in the three to five inch amount, which could have been more.

So, the storm is passing my area, most of the rain is in the Gulf of Mexico, and the future of the weather to the East, is soggy. Louisiana, and Mississippi are next.

 I have the feeling the low will track across the South, and the East Coast can expect a Nor'easter. It's that time of year, and this storm can be a surprise for many. It's more intense than the normal low, and it will bring much bad weather for those in its path.

School Bus Traffic Jam

I watched a school bus pull up to a day care center this evening. While this may be a common occurrence, the event was notable.

It took forever for the children to disembark. Not only were they oblivious of the time they were wasting, their handlers didn't seem to care. To add insult to injury, the children stepped from the bus, and appeared as though they were arriving somewhere they had never been before. Their slack-jawed wonder of something they've probably seen for months was an indication of an inability to process information; and expedite their way through life, without supervision to the age of twenty seven.

I know being a parent is tough, and teaching your children is a tough job, but teach them to haul ass, when they leave the school bus...and stop wasting my time.

Blue Jay Morning

Summer lost its hold over that last week. We had some hot days, but mornings were cooler, and a front on Friday brought more dry, cool air, so this morning is in the low sixties, and the promise of more deep blue skies; maybe filled with mare's tails, like yesterday.

I walked outside to feel the morning. The front had lost its punch, so the wind backing to the east is filling with moisture, and the crispness is waning. Still, it was a pleasant relief from the summer mornings, with temperatures pushing eighty degrees, and a humidity near 100 percent.

The blue jays were fussing in the distance; their sharp caws a warning to their own, and any other species that knows they do so to alert, or move a predator to other prey. I looked, and listened, as they moved my way.

The focus of their attention caught my eye, as it landed at the top of large white oak. The sunlight had not quite reached the top of the trees, so its plumage was dull in the increasing light.

It was a hawk; large, but not huge, so it took a few moments to determine the species. The plumage was familiar, but the solid tail didn't look the right color. Before the sun could find its perch, it flew away, as the blue jays landed on adjoining branches; calling for support and fussing.

I think it was it was a red tailed hawk; maybe a juvenile, or the light didn't accentuate the color of its tail. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but the solid tail, and plumage pattern was the same as a red tailed hawk.

I knew it was around, since I'd seen it in the evening, as it flew over the top of the trees. The blue jays always announced its presence, but its quick passage never allowed a closer look.

I'd found traces of its hunts. Strange clumps of dove feathers would be in the yard, but unlike that of a cat, there was no blood, or pieces of the dove, Finding its prey in flight, or perched in the top of a tree, the feathers were lost as the talons grasped the prey, and the quick acceleration removed clusters of feathers.

With the retreat of their enemy, the blue jays stopped their raucous complaint, and settled back into their morning routine. The rest of the birds did the same, and only the sounds of an awakening morning were left.

I stood for a moment longer, and went on my own hunt for a cup of coffee; my thoughts on the rich taste, and the start of a beautiful day. I think I'll sit on the back porch, and wait for the sun to rise above the trees.