THE ZOO

Sunday, we decided to go to the zoo. As we started walking, I thought I must have gotten more out of shape recently, because I was very tired and it seemed like an awful lot of work. It only took a few hours for me to remember that I'd spent the entire previous day gardening, and so it was vaguely possible that this might be a contributing factor.

One of the purposes of going to the zoo was to visit the pygmy hippos that Michael had adopted on my behalf as a birthday present. We learned a valuable lesson that day: many animals are smart enough to stay indoors when it is far too hot outside.

We were waiting on the train platform, and it was hot. I went to get a coke out of the machine, and it gave me two for my pound, which seemed a sure sign to me that the day was going to be JUST FABULOUS.

As we were standing there, Michael decided to break wind loudly, and with obvious enjoyment, (I wrote 'relish' there first, but then realised that it looked like he was breaking wind with a condiment.) which led to the following conversation:

Me: Oh, baby, it's so hot when you do that.

Michael: I know. All women feel that way.

Me: And yet you never see that mentioned in ads that women place on dating websiates in the list of qualities that they are looking for.

Michael: That is because it is ASSUMED. You know, like "big cock." They only have so many letters, after all, and they don't want to waste them stating the obvious. "Vivacious thirty-something with massive gazongas seeks big cock and farting."

Will finish this story later....

YOUR PERSONAL FREEDOMS, DISAPPEARING IN FIVE...FOUR...THREE

The minute I heard about the terror bombings (or maybe a few minutes later, whatEVer), I thought:

1. Gee, I wonder what personal freedom they're going to use this as an excuse to revoke, and

2. How coincidental that this happend just when Bush is trying to justify renewing some of the more outrageous items of the Patriot Act?

So I was not terribly surprised when I saw this on the BBC:

All your email are belong to us

So I have this great new idea.

You know how everyone says that the CIA has a list of "watch words" that alert them to phone messages, emails, text messages, etc., that should alert them to pay attention? And you know how the terrorists use code words for all of those things so that they don't get caught?

I think the rest of us should START using those words as code words for ordinary household objects and common phrases, just so that our phone and email conversations drive the CIA and their ilk crazy.

Like instead of "good morning," we say, "bomb bomb Al Qaeda."

We get enough people doing this, and they'll go nuts trying to keep track of it all.

Come on, who's with me?!

GARDENS

So this weekend, I finally got my garden in shape. I've been gone on weekends, or taking care of things in general, and the front and back gardens (also known as "yards" to Americans like me) were out of hand. Things were definitely starting to revert back to nature.

After pulling 3 large garbage bags full of weeds, I started looking around for something to do with the front garden. Ages ago, I started a whole bunch of seeds indoors, tended them oh-so-carefully, then eventually moved them outdoors. Some things got repotted, and then I went through a period of rushing off places on weekends, and the remaining seed trays became not so much an indication of my love of all things living as a tribute to Darwin.

The problem was that in the intervening weeks, the rain and sun had eliminated all traces of ink on my carefully-placed labels. (note: you should have seen the care with which I tended these plants for MONTHS indoors. It was really quite touching.)

Mind you, I did have one tray full of little blue flowers, which I can definitely say were violas. But the rest remained a mystery to me.

This might not seem like a big deal to you, and if this is the case, then you are clearly ignoring the two most pertinent facts:

1. The plants in question may, in fact, be vegetables.

2. I have a boyfriend who, I swear, WAITS to find reasons and/or opportunities to mock me. (some of these are quite spurious.)

So you see the dilemma? What if I plant things in the front border, and then in two weeks they turn out to be eggplant?

I planted them anyway, and am now hoping for the best.

Later in the afternoon, after trimming the hedges and mowing the grass in the back, I collapsed, exhaustedly, in a wicker chair and prayed for death. As I closed my eyes, I briefly wondered why my eyelids stung. I had somehow failed to make the "out in the garden all day"/"I'm not wearing sunscreen" connection, which was made for me in quite a vivid fashion later that night.

My boyfriend had called me at five, and said that he would come over at around seven. I sat in the chair, wondering how much time had passed since then. I was thirsty, and I was trying to weigh my actions carefully--if I were to stand up and get my own beverage, then that would require actual movement; however, if I were to wait for Michael to arrive and bring me a beverage, then that could take a while. If only I knew what time it was, I could calculate the relative weights of time passage vs. muscle soreness.

Thoughts of heatstroke had finally penetrated enough for me to give up and rise to my feet, when I heard the welcome sound of Boys in the Distance, so I quickly collapsed into my seat again and made weak noises until lovely boys appeared and bestowed refreshment. (The logic of this actually escapes me, since rising to one's feet is by far the most difficult part of the beverage-retrieval process, but it had become some kind of principle at that point.) He had anticipated my need, and purchased ice cream on the way.

I really do have the best boyfriend in the world.


ADDENDUM

I failed to mention what ACTUALLY happened when Michael arrived. He came up to me and said, "There was a mugging!"

I leapt to my feet (well, not really, but I made REALLY concerned noises, which is almost the same thing) and said, "What? Where? What happened?"

He said, "I was bringing over these lovely ice cream bars, and immediately when I left the store, I was mugged, and the scoundrels made off with half of this box here, which is why it is missing! Thankfully, I managed to keep this other box from them."

OTHER RANDOM THOUGHTS ON THE TERRORISM

New technology. People walking out of smoky trains, taking photos and videos with their cameraphones. Cool.

******

Why do we feel the need to weigh everything? Why do I keep trying to figure out which is worse--to lose a limb, or to have a family member/boyfriend/husband missing and not know their fate? Can't I just let both of these things be tragedies in and of themselves without trying to determine who has the most right to my sympathy?

Can't I save my own soul and those of others and not have to create theoretical situations in which I might have to make a choice between the two?

Can't we work to save the rainforests without being asked why we're spending all of that time on the rainforests when there are CHILDREN out there who are STARVING?

Why is it that when I get to this point in a list of questions, I start to think of the Devotional Thoughts on What Would Journey Do?

*****

I've said myself, and heard others say, "I can't believe that the people doing this think they're doing the work of God."

I read a verse in the Bible the other night that I must have seen a hundred times, but thought of in reverse this time. Jesus is talking to his disciples and says that the day will come when men "will kill you and claim that they are doing God a service." We Christians hold up this verse all the time in this sort of self-righteous martyr kind of a way. Yes, I am so holy and wonderful. The bad people out there will persecute me. They may even go so far as to kill me, but I will hold my head up, knowing that they are persecuting me because of my holiness and closeness to God.

But now I'm starting to think of this verse in the other direction. If you are killing (or otherwise injuring) and believe that you are doing God a service, maybe you should consider that you just might be on the wrong side of the verse.

******

It's so easy to find yourself slipping into places where you shouldn't go. The news media is reporting on the backlash the Muslim community has to deal with after these attacks. A quote from the BBC: "The Muslim community is feeling increasingly vulnerable and concerned, a monitoring team from the association found." I read that, and had this sort of reflexive, "uh, YOU are feeling vulnerable?" feeling.

Isn't that how it starts?

*I* know that the average Muslim isn't any more responsible or connected to these attacks than I am connected to the slaying of abortion doctors, the speeches of Pat Robertson, the policies/statements of George W. Bush, the politics of the Israeli government, or speeches made by some of the more rabidly man-hating feminists.

So why did I have that reflex?

I guess it just goes to show how vigilant we have to be with our own thoughts, our own souls.

I'm almost grateful that there are people with whom I share a "group" connection, with whom I disagree so fully. Because the more I can point myself toward examples of Christians, Jews, Americans, Feminists, Women, White People, Liberals, etc., with whom I disagree so violently, the more firmly I can plant my heart in the right place when it comes to not lumping all Muslims, Arabs, Men, Brown People, Conservatives, etc., in the same group.

All right, so I have the hardest time of all with Conservatives.

Maybe I should just develop a deep-seated hatred of Hedgehogs, so that I can have a focus for all of my general animosity.

STOOPID hedgehogs.

BOMBS IN LONDON

I feel sort of obligated to write something about the terrorist tube bombings in London, since everyone is asking me about them. I was far away in a different part of London at the time.

There are people for whom these attacks represent a very real personal tragedy. As terrible as this may sound, I don't feel nearly as sorry for those whose deaths were probably instantaneous as I do for those who are now having to live through an aftermath that represents a drastic change to their personal lives. People who have lost limbs, and have entered a new phase of life called "being handicapped," people who are suddenly without family members, and those who love someone who is still listed as missing.

But for me, I'm far away from this. What I've been struck by, when engaging in pub conversations, listening to friends and coworkers, or reading the eyewitness accounts in the BBC is how much we all play this game of "six degrees of separation" from tragedy.

I do this myself. Immediately after hearing of the blasts, I had to go to the BBC website and see where they occurred, and then do a series of calculations to see just how much I could make this about me. Were any of the bombs on trains I took every morning as part of my commute before I moved? Were they at the right time? Were they on the tube line at the same time of day as I was on Monday morning?

Is there any way I could say, "Omigod, if I hadn't moved, I TOTALLY would have been on that train!"

Everyone's doing this. You hear things like, "My brother's sister's boyfriend was going to work this morning, and at the last minute, he realised he left something at home, and went back, and omigod, if he hadn't, he TOTALLY would have been on that train."

The "eyewitness accounts" are what finally got to me. There are all of these stories people have sent in that go something like this:

"I was walking along the street, and I saw all of these policemen, and they wouldn't let me pass, and nobody would tell us what had happened. So I left, and now I realise that it was because a bus had exploded, and now I'm really freaked out because it's hit me JUST HOW CLOSE I WAS to that accident."

What are we doing? I've gone from finding this really, really funny to being horrified by all of us, myself included. This is a very real personal tragedy for some people, and we are all wandering around like high schoolers, trying to figure out just how much attention we can get for ourselves, just which of us can win the prize for Most Sensitive Girl Seriously Affected by the Tragedy.

It's almost like we envy those who were in the next carriage. Not close enough to suffer any injury, not close enough to feel any real pain (except for those who now, for very real and very legitimate reasons, really WILL be afraid to travel from now on and have a right to own that fear), but just close enough to be the coolest person they know for the forseeable future.