Have you ever had a feeling as you were reaching into the back black corner of the closet to find that long lost "Something" that you may find "something" else? Like maybe something little, gray and furry that scurries? Wellllll,
In all our disorder of packing, we apparently let one of "that sort" into the house. She surprised me one morning by performing quite a dance on the exact piece of carpet beside my bed that I had just been intending to put my toes on. I decided to stay in bed for a bit more, rather than interrupt her (and risk bitten toes). She amused me that night by chewing on the already packed boxes beside my bed. We set a trap the next night, on my side of the bed. It detonated about 2 in the morning. The mouse escaped, apparently unharmed. My sleep didn't fare so well. I was up the rest of the night. The next night was the "Revenge of the Mouse": she kept climbing up the frame of the headboard, and would run (loudly) down the metal of the bedframe. She would create a "bang" with every hop. Again, no sleep for me.
We haven't heard from her in a couple of nights now. I wonder what she is plotting now?
Apr 27, 2009
Apr 20, 2009
Local Opinion Letter, Washington Post, April 19, 2009
washingtonpost.com > Metro
» Links to this article Sunday, April 19, 2009
WASHINGTON
The Livid Face of Security
I recently returned from touring Washington with a group of youngsters. Nice kids, all of them. We had the opportunity to experience Metro rides, stroll through museums and tour landmarks. I even had time to people-watch.
The people on the Metro were the standard commuter types I remembered from my days working in Washington. The college students were identifiable well before they got off at the American University stop. The partygoers enlivened the scene with their colorful outfits and even more colorful descriptions of their plans and exploits. The ranting street preachers were at their usual places, saying their usual things. The tourists, my group included, could be identified by the wide-eyed confusion with which we stared at maps and the area around us. But there was a new type in Washington, one that I hadn't encountered before: The Security Worker.
These ubiquitous folk are, of course, an unfortunate necessity given the current world climate. Many of them work at the various landmarks on the Mall and at other tourist spots in Washington. I understand that they do a dangerous and exacting job, as do all of the members of our local police forces. But I have never seen a local police officer scream at folks who don't follow the (un-posted) rules at a security checkpoint (as happened to us at the U.S. Capitol Visitor Center and at the National Museum of Natural History). And not just scream once, but scream until his face is livid red, and the people in question -- 12-year-old girls for whom English is their native language -- are reduced to tears. I have seen drill sergeants do that to people who willingly subject themselves to such treatment by enlisting, but never have I seen a police officer stoop to such undignified behavior.
Having it happen once could be excused as a bad day for that officer. But never did I see demonstrated among the security guards we encountered the graciousness you would expect to see in the epicenter of the greatest democracy on earth. This country is founded on the premise "that all men are created equal." Yet we now seem to have a two-tier system: the security forces and the plebes.
And many of these "plebes" don't even come from America. Many of these folks journey from across the globe, to see for themselves the outcome of the Great American Experiment. Having only rudimentary English skills, they are presented with a fusillade of unrecognizable commands shouted at an outrageous volume by people denying them access to where their maps told them to go and requiring them to jump through unspecified hoops to get there. What impression does a livid, screaming face make on the world that comes to our doorstep?
Our new administration in Washington is all about "change." Well, I'd like to see a change. I'd like to see our security forces better trained -- not only better trained in technical proficiency but better trained in the kind of self-control and courtesy that the local cop on the beat considers an important part of the arsenal of defense. I want to see visitors leave Washington with an elevated sense of the power of the people and a sense of wonder at how it can all happen. Who knows what could flower from that kind of impression, rather than the remembrance of an angry, red face above a uniform.
-- Deborah Lawton, King George, Va.
» Links to this article Sunday, April 19, 2009
WASHINGTON
The Livid Face of Security
I recently returned from touring Washington with a group of youngsters. Nice kids, all of them. We had the opportunity to experience Metro rides, stroll through museums and tour landmarks. I even had time to people-watch.
The people on the Metro were the standard commuter types I remembered from my days working in Washington. The college students were identifiable well before they got off at the American University stop. The partygoers enlivened the scene with their colorful outfits and even more colorful descriptions of their plans and exploits. The ranting street preachers were at their usual places, saying their usual things. The tourists, my group included, could be identified by the wide-eyed confusion with which we stared at maps and the area around us. But there was a new type in Washington, one that I hadn't encountered before: The Security Worker.
These ubiquitous folk are, of course, an unfortunate necessity given the current world climate. Many of them work at the various landmarks on the Mall and at other tourist spots in Washington. I understand that they do a dangerous and exacting job, as do all of the members of our local police forces. But I have never seen a local police officer scream at folks who don't follow the (un-posted) rules at a security checkpoint (as happened to us at the U.S. Capitol Visitor Center and at the National Museum of Natural History). And not just scream once, but scream until his face is livid red, and the people in question -- 12-year-old girls for whom English is their native language -- are reduced to tears. I have seen drill sergeants do that to people who willingly subject themselves to such treatment by enlisting, but never have I seen a police officer stoop to such undignified behavior.
Having it happen once could be excused as a bad day for that officer. But never did I see demonstrated among the security guards we encountered the graciousness you would expect to see in the epicenter of the greatest democracy on earth. This country is founded on the premise "that all men are created equal." Yet we now seem to have a two-tier system: the security forces and the plebes.
And many of these "plebes" don't even come from America. Many of these folks journey from across the globe, to see for themselves the outcome of the Great American Experiment. Having only rudimentary English skills, they are presented with a fusillade of unrecognizable commands shouted at an outrageous volume by people denying them access to where their maps told them to go and requiring them to jump through unspecified hoops to get there. What impression does a livid, screaming face make on the world that comes to our doorstep?
Our new administration in Washington is all about "change." Well, I'd like to see a change. I'd like to see our security forces better trained -- not only better trained in technical proficiency but better trained in the kind of self-control and courtesy that the local cop on the beat considers an important part of the arsenal of defense. I want to see visitors leave Washington with an elevated sense of the power of the people and a sense of wonder at how it can all happen. Who knows what could flower from that kind of impression, rather than the remembrance of an angry, red face above a uniform.
-- Deborah Lawton, King George, Va.
Apr 15, 2009
Moving Again
Moving Again
Sorting treasures, pitching trash,
Like squirrels in last year’s nut stash.
Filling brown cardboard receptacles
Oops, someone must have packed my spectacles.
I’m left with my life neatly tidied up,
In little brown cubes, marked “This side up.”
Sorting treasures, pitching trash,
Like squirrels in last year’s nut stash.
Filling brown cardboard receptacles
Oops, someone must have packed my spectacles.
I’m left with my life neatly tidied up,
In little brown cubes, marked “This side up.”
Apr 6, 2009
Tea Time
I like to use tea leaves.Not for fortune telling, none of that!
But for the laughter the bitter brew brings.
I like to use tea leaves
The dark black kind for me.
Often clear herbals for friends
Whatever the difference means.
I like to use tea leaves
But never reuse them--oh please
If its is tea, make it strong for me.
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