What is left out of the news matters. On January 13, 2016, A bombing that Daesh took “credit” for killed seven people in Jakarta, Indonesia. CNN’s headline when I first checked read “Blast, Shootouts at Jakarta Starbucks”. For the average reader, this does not indicate a terrorist attack, but a squabble over lattes that got deadly. The next morning, the BBC reported that four of the five perpetrators of the attack had been identified, and that all five had died in the blast. CNN had no followup report. The BBC report tells us two things 1) that all of the perpetrators are dead, and 2) that it wasn’t a particularly successful attack, as five of the seven dead were the people who caused the attack. The CNN followup allows readers to assume that the perpetrators were still out there, presumably planning to squabble over more lattes. (In fairness, CNN did change their headline to a more appropriate one, but the original one was up for several hours). I work upwards of sixty hours a week, do social justice advocacy, and have family and community obligations. As much of a news junkie as I am, I have found in the last
Today is, yet again, “pretend we are going to win the lottery” day. At best, only a handful of people will do so, and almost certainly, the vast mega prize (800 million at last count) will be split, but it’s a mind boggling idea, and there is a chance, no matter how slim, that anyone with 2 dollars to buy a ticket could win. So I’ll go first. If I won the lottery, I would spend the money on: Paying off all my debts Setting up my sister for life Fixing my house from the basement up to be the Victorian era home it is capable of being (including buying the lots on both sides for more yard and garden space). Creating a village of cabins for formerly chronically homeless men and women that is a truly great place to live. Creating a mental health wellness center that is a truly great place to get services, and has options for *everyone* regardless of ability to pay. Buying a cabin on some land with a stream or lake, some woods and fields, for hunting and just “getting away from it all”> Traveling Working only part time so that I can devote
My husband and I have an ongoing argument on the nature of gift giving. He thinks gifts should be a surprise, and I think that surprise is far less important than giving people something they really, really want. This year for Christmas, he totally got it right. He got me a Fitbit HR Charge. Well, I’d asked for the gray band, and they only had purple, but I can live with that. Yes, I know. Body positivity and all that jazz. I don’t mind being overweight in and of itself. What I mind is how uncomfortable my body feels, the bloating in my belly and skin issues where it folds. I’m also ultra paranoid about diabetes, since it runs in my family. So I wanted something that would accurately record my activity level, so I could have some idea (with the help of linking it to My Fitness Pal for the food diary) of where I’m gaining the weight. Also, bonus, I can see how active my friends are (and judging from my friends, how uncommon it is to actually reach 10,000 steps per day). Print PDF
The support Donald Trump receives predictably increases the more extreme he gets. “Motivated reasoning” explains why.
Next year in Kansas City, we will be hosting Worldcon (“we” meaning we Missourians, not me personally, as I am a minor player at best in this drama). I am thrilled and excited to finally be in a place in my life where I can participate in person instead of through my endless babblings on line. Last night I stayed up way past my bedtime to watch the Hugo Awards 2015, and I have opinions. I started to write them as a Facebook post, then decided to move them here: My more coherent (daylight) thoughts on the Hugos: The puppies got socked in the nose with a newspaper last night, and they are yipping that they meant to get socked, and besides, the Hugo isn’t so great after all and they didn’t really want it. Which is par for the course. There is so much spin in their position at this point that if they were to stop spinning there would be no there, there, at all. I have a great deal of compassion for many of these folk. They will never be able to live their support of this down, and some (many) of them will probably eventually realize how
Lucky came into my life in February of 2003. I was getting new tires on my 1992 Ford Tempo (and a good thing – a week later, they probably saved my life, when I had the accident that resulted in changing careers and going back to college to be a social worker). It was unseasonably warm, and I was hanging out in front of the tire shop with the owner. I only half paid attention when he yelled something at the street, where someone passing had just thrown a bag of trash out of their car at 35 miles per hour. A few seconds later, a passing school bus screeched to a halt. In the road, out of nowhere, was a small terrier puppy (possibly a mini schnauzer – we were never quite sure). I ran into the street, snatched up the puppy, and brought him inside. He was infested with worms, filthy, and shivering in terror. He still had a bit of the trash bag caught on his leg. As luck would have it (hee!), we were looking for a dog. But not a terrier. My husband was hunting for a bird dog. I picked up the phone and