Cold Christmas Day

Watching a cracklin' fire on Christmas night. Cliche, but true (that's why they call 'em cliches). Too beautiful to put into words -- a spark flying here and there, yellow flames in front, red on blackened logs, and blue flames in back.

Lovely day, very low-key -- just the way I like my holidays.

We had way more than a dusting of snow yesterday, maybe an inch - unusual for West Texas at Christmas. Cold, cold, so cold. Weather moving in from the North with an icy North wind blowing. Icicles still hanging off the house, tho there's been no moisture in 48 hours.

I put a blanket on Blaze, our Palomino, last night. He spends more time now laying out in the sun on the ground, like a young colt, gathering every ray of sunshine on his old bones. He's such a beautiful horse, and so affectionate. My big ole baby who puts his soft, warm, white muzzle against me while I pet his thick, golden winter coat.

Normally, Blaze gambols about like a young colt, but lately he's had a bad limp. We think the mare, Star, kicked him in the knee. He chases her around, trying to herd her like any stallion would, while she bucks and rears, putting on her own personal rodeo. Seems like little Star must have connected with Blaze's knee. He was giving her a wide berth last week, but he's back to moving her around again, albeit with a limp.

More cold on the way. I'm going out for more wood.

What War?

Upon hearing President Obama's order for more troops to Afghanistan, I was overtaken by a memory of another war.

I was about 17 when my oldest brother returned from service in the Navy during the Viet Nam war. He and my mother were talking in our small kitchen. They were discussing his attempt to bond with our father down at the local VFW. Daddy wore his green cap proudly, and spent many afternoons drinking beer down at the VFW Hall. My brother, then in his mid-20's, drank a couple of beers with Daddy and his buddies, then left. "All they wanted to do," he explained to Mama "was drink beer and talk about their war. I want someone to talk to about my war."

His lament crystallized the dichotomy in the country, at that time and still today, about Viet Nam, about every war. No one wanted to talk about this Boomer war, fought in a country nobody knew about, for so many years it was just another boring staple on the evening news. Even today, there is a romance about World War II. Books are written, and celebrated, about The Greatest Generation. From the time I was thirteen, I read everything I could about the Second World War, mesmerized by the twisted psychology of Hitler. My mother told stories of meat and tire rationing, her job in a Long Beach shipbuilding plant, and how proud everyone was of the troops and the war effort. The nation, according to her, pulled together as one during the early 40's to fight Hitler and the Germans, then Tojo and the Japanese. She was disgusted at the Berkeley and Columbia protests, at John and Yoko with their long, unkempt hair and anti-war attitude, at my sympathy to the protests and enthusiasm for Lennon's music and views.

And just as she didn't want to hear pot-smoking musicians sing give peace a chance, the nation didn't want to know about those who came home from the war. When first one, then another brother came home from service, they set about finding jobs and settling families during the inflationary times of the early 70's. Just as their father had done 20 years earlier. There were no parades. Hawks and Doves still fought over political careers. Nixon had a secret plan. Cronkite still intoned on TV every evening: over jungle fire-fights, and protests, and bloody bodies.

And nobody talked to them about their war.

test for

Dodgers at Cards, Game 3

Why am I only live-blogging this series? I am loving the Yankees-Minnesota series. Have a convoluted 10th cousin 4x removed to the 2nd power tie to Minnesota. But I loves me some Jeter - well, who doesn't really? The most-talented, classiest player in beisbol. Plus, nom nom! Jeter's on my fantasy baseball team, if you catch my drift. In my fantasy league, I always win.

And, of course, along with the Cardinals, I've ALWAYS loved the Red Sox. I know, one cannot love both the Yankees and the Red Sox, except if you live in fly-over land. Ha! Back at ya, East Coast. I witnessed the sickening Bill Buckner error. Must...erase...bad image...from...mind...

One thing the Dodgers/Cards have is my 2 fantasy GMs: Tony LaRussa, the only lawyer who shouldn't be at the bottom of the sea; and Joe Torre, former catcher (my fantasy position -- in baseball) he of the aforementioned stupid decision by the Steinbrenners. Too young to see Joe Torre catch, but I watched him coach the Cardinals in the playoffs in the 70's. I also remember how pissed off I was when the Cardinals fired him, until I saw how hot Tony LaRussa was!

This is not going well: Dodgers up 3-0 in 3rd inning. Ever notice how in football everything is bold, aggressive Roman numerals, but cooled-out, pastoral baseball prefers the more American Arabic characters. Yes I said it: American Arabic; just shows how chill baseball is. Super Bowl III vs 3rd Inning.

Cardinal bats are silent. Dear Lord, PLEASE don't let the Dodgers get in the series over the Cards -- especially not in a sweep! Because, you know, the Higher Power loves baseball.

Okay, this is too depressing. I'm going to make lasagna for supper. Maybe that will change their luck.

***************************

Okay, my bad, bad bad. 4th game. Dodgers swept Cards. Good on Joe Torre!

Clearly, I am in denial that this is the end for STL.

That is all. For now.

October Baseball

Watching the 2nd game of the LA Dodgers vs St Louis Cardinals series tonight. God, I love baseball post-season. Every game is so important - every game counts.

9th inning, STL leads LAD 2-1. 2 outs, 1 man in scoring position - please, please Cards, pull this one out. Cards fan from...well...the womb. Although I am in love with Joe Torre. Steinbrenner f***ed up letting him get away. Oh, well, that's Steinbrenner. Letting ego get in front of the brain.

Oh, s**t! Dodgers on 1st & 2nd. Oh, awesome hit to tie the game 2-2. Damn Dodgers just won't give up. One would think (hope) they lost their mojo trying to sew up the division lead. ooooooo......it just gets worse. Cacher lost a pitch: everybody advances. Ball 4, bases loaded, 2 out. Cards aren't changing pitchers. Dude's pitching well, just a couple bad breaks.

OH, MY. With 2 outs in 9th inning, Dodgers get 2 runs to win the game. Series: Dodger 2; Cards 0.

God, I love the baseball playoffs!

Anybody?

How are we feeling today? Have we taken our meds? Is it better now?.....or now?

Where have you gone, Jim Morrison?

I'm watching VH1Classic (I know, most of you can stop reading now) -- a film of the Doors late in their time together. Jim Morrison's "fat" phase. Right before he offed himself with heroin. Coincidence?

I read Morrison's poetry, but could never get into it. Maybe I was too young, or maybe his poetry was tainted with his addictions. Don't get me wrong, I'm no drug prude; but, honestly, drugs/alcohol (same thing) really don't enhance one's creative spirit. Dylan Thomas, Heath Ledger, F Scott Fitzgerald, Marilyn Monroe.

How do you feel?