Il n’y a qu’ un bonheur dans la vie, c’est d’aimer et d’être aimé.
Il n’y a qu’ un bonheur dans la vie, c’est d’aimer et d’être aimé.
“Baby boxes,” which originated in Finland as a means of lowering rates of sleep-related infant deaths, are now catching on in the U.S.:
Interesting; we initially attempted the traditional “crib-in-a-remote-
state-room” sleeping arrangement with our progeny. That lasted less than one night – both girls slept in our bed. Obviously no SIDS.
We knew people who would put their kids down in “playpens”, on the floor, or even –no exaggeration– dresser drawers. But a box?
You learn something every day…
We’re outta here this afternoon, our return tentatively scheduled around mid-June; posting in that period will be nigh near non-existent. 1
In our absence please to enjoy the coming heat, humidity and cicadas.
Like most Americans, we’re curious about the personal doings of Our Betters. You know, the national politicians whose gravitas and intellectual leanings well qualify them to lead the lumpenproletariat? Join us now as we look in on the Palins on a typical Saturday night…
The story goes like this: Bristol and Willow reportedly started to harass Corey all night so much so that Chris, the host of the party, was forced to intervene – which prompted an inebriated Bristol to throw several punches at him.
Because Bristol is the negotiator of the Palin family.
Bristol was asked to leave, but continued to punch at Chris several times, according to Political-Gates.
Bristol is nothing if not a tenacious negotiator.
Naturally, Track also got into a fight and Todd reportedly suffered a bloody nose in that altercation.
Is it just us or does Todd always seem to come off in these things like a schmuck?
The super sleuths at Wonkette made a call to the authorities to find out if this story is true.
Anita in the Anchorage Police Department’s communications office is sitting at her desk at 7:15 a.m. on
TuesdayThursday, so probs they are waiting for a whole mess of calls from Jake Tapper or whatever, and Anita confirms that a huge bloody mess of a brawl between multiple subjects took place Saturday night, and that the Palins were “present.”
However, since nobody wanted to arrest anybody else, the names of the “subjects” remain not yet released. But the investigation continues.
Where was Sarah in all of this?
Amanda Coyne reports:
It’s something to hear when Sarah screams, “Don’t you know who I am!” And it was particularly wonderful when someone in the crowd screamed back, “This isn’t some damned Hillbilly reality show!”
The whole thing sounds like a typical Grandview Saturday night..
Seriously though – isn’t it’s just as fascinating as watching the royal family? But if the Palins are serious about competing with the royals, one of them had better pop up preggars again. Preferably an unmarried Palin.
Even the people who are supposed to like clownsâ€”childrenâ€”supposedly donâ€™t. In 2008, a widely reported University of Sheffield, England, survey of 250 children between the ages of four and 16 found that most of the children disliked and even feared images of clowns. The BBCâ€™s report on the study featured a child psychologist who broadly declared, â€œVery few children like clowns. They are unfamiliar and come from a different era. They don’t look funny, they just look odd.â€
But most clowns arenâ€™t trying to be odd. Theyâ€™re trying to be silly and sweet, fun personified. So the question is, when did the clown, supposedly a jolly figure of innocuous, kid-friendly entertainment, become so weighed down by fear and sadness? When did clowns become so dark?
The last few days our Little Red Car has crawled through Swope Park in the pre-dawn mornings on its way to the office 1 searching for promised fog.
No such luck there but beginning Wednesday we noticed a huge red and yellow striped big top settled in on the grass sward northwest of The Starlight.
We expect they will have clowns. Whether they’re scary is another matter entirely.
One supposes it is unfair to blame Ms. Jarvis for the commercial orgy that Mother’s Day has become. She did, after all, renounce the holiday she helped create, announcing that “commercialism was destroying Mother’s Day.”
Still, one can not help but wonder how wonderfully uneventful Sundays in May might pass had Ms Jarvis managed to put on her big girl panties and internalize the grief over her own mother’s death. 2
the nitwit Ms. Jarvis started a viral campaign to honor the “purity of a mother’s love.” Richer nitwits 3 threw their weight, prestige and money behind her efforts. And despite some opposition in Congress the holiday was eventually immortalized in 1914.
Which caused the floral industry to bloom. 4
However, the holiday soon became what it is today, a mandatory spend-fest. This actually pissed off Ms. Jarvis, who wanted Mother’s Day “…to be a day of sentiment, not profit.” In 1920 Ms. Jarvis told people to stop buying flowers and other gifts for their mothers, and she turned against her former (floral) commercial supporters. She referred to the florists, greeting card manufacturers and the confectionery industry as “…charlatans, bandits, pirates, racketeers, kidnappers and termites that would undermine with their greed one of the finest, noblest and truest movements and celebrations.” 5
Of course it went downhill from there; Ms. Jarvis was once dragged screaming out of a meeting of the American War Mothers by police and arrested for disturbing the peace in her attempts to stop the sale of Mother’s Day carnations. One of the last times anyone ever spotted Ms. Jarvis in public she was going door-to-door in Philly, asking for signatures on a petition to rescind Mother’s Day.
In her dotageÂ Ms. JarvisÂ became a recluse and a hoarder. 6
Asta asked how Easter started.
Apropos of nothing, really. The windows were down and the sun roof open to the blue blue sky, yet not a hint of superstition wafted in on the breeze. We were in my little red car zipping along to the Nelson (art classes) and listening to The Beatles.
Actually we were all “singing” along to Eleanor Rigby at the top of our lungs. The Astas are particularly enamored of the line “…wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door”. Asta Jr has asked several questions about this: how big, exactly, does a jar have to be to hold a face? Is this a plain jar or a decorative one? Does Eleanor have several jars for her differing faces? And why a jar, come to that? Why not a basket that could also hold flowers? That way her faces would smell pretty…
I started with rosy fingered Eos, whose tears created the morning dew. Brother of Helios and sister of Selene. Mother of the Winds (Zephyrus, Boreas, and Notus) and the Morning Star (Eosphoros).
Unlucky in love, Eos unhappily fell in and out of that manic condition several times, cursed, so it was said, by Aphrodite because Eos had once lain with Ares. (Women!)
Later Eos would become Ä’ostre…
But, alas, we had arrived; no time for that now.
Off they skipped (yes, skipped…) to class where for two hours every Saturday they indulge their creative sides in a fashion society has deemed an unnecessary, certainly fiscally irresponsible, part of a public education.
Forgotten was Easter or why it’s such a big deal that old man in a dress washed a girl’s feet.
This morning Asta told Nora she woke up all night long, too excited to sleep. She had left her blinds and windows open, hoping to catch a hint of a hopping bunny. And she wants to have a ‘serious talk’ about the Easter Bunny today, when her little sister is otherwise occupied.
We wonder if she espied a shadowy, gray haired, plaid pajama’d hare slowly strolling across the lawn, occasionally stooping to nestle small objects here and there.
Eos, born at the Dawn of Time, is an Immortal. She will never die. But she has passed away in the memory of men, supplanted by newer superstitions. These new gods will also fade before the implacability of time,Â though not before they wreck havoc equal to a thousand Trojan Wars.
Long before that eventuality the Easter Bunny will pass away. Probably this afternoon. Swiftly followed, one suspects, by Santa Claus; logic and reason are too strong.
And that’s a good thing.
They’ll check in to their Tacoma hotel sometime late this afternoon. Kyle, on half-days until next week, will meet them there this evening. Sis wants steak, I understand, even though salmon season just barely ended. Women, go figure.
Her boy is in one piece.
He brought back a CIB (which he shares with anyone who spent 180 days on the line) and a Bronze Star with Valor, which he shares with far fewer men and women.
Oh, and he made Captain while in the hills of Afghanistan.
Welcome back, sir. Well done.
“14 million is a minimum estimate of the number of Americans who would lose health insurance under Mr. Ryan’s proposed cuts in Medicaid; estimates by the Urban Institute actually put the number at between 14 million and 27 million.
So the proposal is exactly as President Obama described it: a proposal to deny health care (and many other essentials) to millions of Americans, while lavishing tax cuts on corporations and the wealthy — all while failing to reduce the budget deficit unless you believe in Mr. Ryan’s secret revenue sauce. So why are centrists rising to Mr. Ryan’s defense?”
When you’re right, you’re right. Krugman’s “Gullible Center” is dead on.
It has always confounded us why the self same people who would take it in the shorts from Ryan’s budget blindly follow the anti-
nigger Obama rhetoric emanating from GOP shills; it is not as if the GOP has ever done a blessed thing for them. On the contrary, GOP policies have always favored the wealthy over ‘the common man’. You would would thought that axiomatic by now; apparently there’s no accounting for inbreeding.
In terms of heath insurance? We don’t know which is more pitiful – their poor excuse for outrageously priced ‘coverage’, or their willingness to cede even that so the GOP might think them hale & well met fellowes…
Since the start of the month it has been illegal to die in Falciano del Massico, a village of 3,700 people some 50 kilometers (30 miles) from Naples in southern Italy.
Mayor Giulio Cesare Fava issued the tongue-in-cheek decree because the village has no cemetery and it is feuding with a nearby town that has one — creating a logistical problem about what to do with the deceased.
Naturally enough there are scofflaws:
“The ordinance has brought happiness,” [Mayor Fava] was quoted Tuesday as saying. “Unfortunately, two elderly citizens disobeyed.”
Makes me think of the legal prohibition against suicide; whacha gonna do, amiright?