what were they thinking?

Man.

Parents forget 3-year-old at Airport.

That'll mess you up.

I wonder if there's a law against that?

[I think there should be a law against traveling with 18 suitcases. That's not "traveling" - that's moving.]

marriage or liberty

Is it fuzzy thinking, or is there really no substantive difference between homosexual "marriage" and polygamous "marriage" when it comes to what our society will allow as marriage?

In a recent post - Til Death - Georgetown Professor Patrick Deneen points out the questionable foundation of the recent California Supreme Court's In re Marriage Cases decision which presumes to establish a "right" to homosexual marriage. The basis for their decision is individual liberty and personal autonomy.

. . . the constitutionally based right to marry . . . must be understood to encompass the core set of basic substantive legal rights and attributes traditionally associated with marriage that are so integral to an individual's liberty and personal autonomy that they may not be eliminated or abrogated by the Legislature or by the electorate . . . . These core substantive rights include, most fundamentally, the opportunity of an individual to establish - the the person with whom the individual has chosen to share his or her life - an officially recognized and protected family . . . [opinion at p. 6]

Deneen aptly notes, however, that marriage is really more based on the voluntary abrogation of individual liberty and autonomy, in self-sacrifice.*

When we base a "right" of marriage on liberty - and a so-called liberty to choose whatever I like - on what basis do we prohibit any choice, so long as it is freely made? Why not polygamy? Why not child marriage? Yes, child marriage brings up the additional element of competency to choose but with the increasing panoply of rights and freedoms being given children, is it not just a matter of time before they - too - will be seen as at liberty to choose as they will?

Having chosen in "liberty", it is not a great distance to unchoose in "liberty."

Maybe the bigger question is the proper basis for marriage. Is it based in liberty? Or is based on a voluntary servitude - a sacrifice - for the good of the other and the community?

Having been persuaded to discuss the question of homosexual marriage in terms of liberty, I perceive we have greater "liberties" looming. Just waiting in the wings. . . .

Maybe somewhere in Texas, for example.
____________________________________
*He also makes a really interesting point about a Hegelian recognition as legitimacy instead of individual justification, but I will leave that as an aside. . . . Another aside I'd like to point out is the California Court's apparent assumption that marriage - and "right" to marry - is constitutionally based.

OK then.

ethical dilemma

OK. So what do you think?


Little Boy Blue? (left)





Or the Greenboy? (right)


(Currently named just for the not-very-visible color on their collar, although it might stick as name. . . . )

But seriously, here's the dilemma:

1. We originally thought to get a dog when our house is finished and we've moved in.

2. Dogs of this breed are not regularly to be had just for the asking.

3. Boy-Blue and Greenboy will be ready to leave their birthing home the end of May.

4. Our house won't be finished till probably August.

5. Our rental house prohibits pets (we have an express exception for our cat).

6. What do you think the answer would be to the request to bring a new puppy into our rental house for the last 3 months or so of our stay here?

7. Given 1 through 5 - and the probable answer to number 6 - what is the traveling distance (in a straight line) from Minneapolis to China?

Sorry. No. Let's try that again. Given 1 through 5 - and the probable answer to number 6 - what is the "ethical" course of action? And two: what impact do fortuitous circumstances have on the answer?

breakfast by candlelight

It was many years ago.

I went to Germany on a whim, I'd say, if I didn't know [now] how important it really was. At the time, though, I didn't know why I was going, I just knew I had to. Ostensibly, it was to attend a 'by-invitation-only' conference I had invited myself to.

I spent 3 days in the Atlanta airport on a stand-by buddy pass ticket, trying to get a flight to Germany. I'm still in touch with at least one of the people I met during that time.

Ultimately, I flew via Dublin - a most creative routing - courtesy of the Delta manager who finally took pity on me and got me on the last plane out before they suspended all buddy pass tickets for the rest of the week, they were so backed up. A year later, I would be living in Dublin.

The conference came and went - apparently without incident except for a passing reference to 'conscience' which I would work on for the next five years - and I found myself in Frankfurt at the end of the whole affair with nothing to do and no set place to stay for the weekend. An American woman I'd tried to steer clear of at the conference found out I was at loose ends and said "You must come back with me and stay at the castle!"

I have a rule: never turn down an invitation to a castle.

So an hour later, I found myself in her banger of an old Volvo station wagon, heading to a small village outside of Heidelberg. The morning I was to leave, we were up before dawn. A light dusting of snow had fallen, and my hostess had prepared coffee and a light breakfast. We ate by candlelight. I've never had candles at breakfast before. It was lovely! The sun slowly rose and took over from the candles. Now, whenever I'm up before dawn - or when it's a horrible bleak drear of a morning - I light candles and think of her.

Like this morning.

The sun is well up now, but the candles are still burning in the darkened living room. My checkered mug has only half a slug of coffee left and it's time to get up and moving and start the day. I'll blow the candles out when I get off the sofa. It's been too long since I've seen my friend, though, and it's been nice to think of her this morning.

malaise, uninterrupted

Now is the time of year when I find that money questions seriously compete with a joy to the world state of mind.

In no time flat, a "token" gift can add 50 bucks to my cash outlay. [so you do the math for, say, ten token gifts!] Not to mention the question of the NON-tokens, for which I struggle to overcome a current cultural equation indicating a direct correlation between degree of affection/love and amount of cash outlay.

In other words: if I don't spend a bundle, I must not care very much.

Add to this a general drowning in things - stacks of articles, books I can't put away, resurrected crafts I'm starting to dig out again, Christmas cards waiting for addresses and personalized notes [damn - I don't think I have time to write up one of those 'what-we've-been-up-to-all-year' one-pagers, can I really just write Wishing you the best for the upcoming year! and be done with it? And hey! They haven't contacted me, either, so why is it always my fault for not having been in touch, I'd like to know?! Simmer down there now. . . . sigh]

You get the picture.

On top of that, I finally got the kitchen guy to give me an actual number for the kitchen design he's been working on, off and on for a year, for the house being built. Can you say "way over budget"? Well, I can. It's way over budget. And when I pointed that out, he got - well - a bit snitty with me. No more Mr. Nice Guy - now I get 'business-like' emails and the proposal is in contract form rather than proposal form. Sort of a 'sign or else' format. . . .

Oh - and the countertop is suddenly - mysteriously - no longer included.

sigh.

Emancipated son #1 continues his financial drama and has asked that I review a contract for his new employment elsewhere. As expected, it was draconian and incomplete and succeeded in pissing me off. I hate bad contracts. It's almost easier just to start from scratch. Anyway, the final indignity was to be told (having asked a bunch of questions) that I was overthinking the matter, and that this is just a simple arrangement, all that was needed was to make sure the legal 'mumbo-jumbo' was in order.

Right.

Funny how people view the law. It's 'mumbo-jumbo' at the start, when good will and best intentions still prevail. But when the will and the intentions have gone south - to hell in a handbasket - then suddenly the 'mumbo-jumbo' becomes important. The lawyers are still blamed - don't get me wrong - but it's because the parties didn't want to deal with what the 'mumbo-jumbo formality' was actually saying, to the extent that it does not mirror the "simple arrangement" the parties like to think they actually had. . . . . What's really going on, is that the parties have not thought through the details of their "simple arrangement", and decided what will happen if things do go wrong. . . . [which inevitably, they do. Sooner, or later].

Pessimism is an occupational hazard to practicing law.

Anyway - and a partridge in a pear tree to you, too!

another all-nighter

I'm getting too old for this.

There's something rather nice about the focused state I finally move into after the yawns have broken off my usual day face. The yawns finally stop and there's a quiet that is really quite lovely.

That was me, night before last, after the foray into further legal posturings and attempts of the law to pass for morality and guide to good living. [sorry - you'd have to be there]. It's what drives me crazy about laws to make people water lawns, that force people out of homes, to prevent people from driving while tired, and that try to make people act nice to people that they don't like, or aren't like them, or a different colour than them - or for whatever reason - and 'play nicely' with one another.

All good things, maybe, but not something you can - or should - try to enforce at law. So, whenever you say There oughta be a law! try to imagine a police officer forcing you to do it. Or your 70 year-old grandmother. Or your ne'er-do-well buddy, Zak.

And putting them in prison if they get it wrong.

If that doesn't work, imagine the tax level it will take to hire more bureaucrats to make our lives yet more miserable by policing our now-watered grass for doggie-do, for example, and monitoring the levels of acceptable processed bovine-do (otherwise known as Scott's Grass-B-Green). Or hiring other people to do it for us.

That's the choice we have, I guess: the golden rule, or the economic cost-benefit analysis.

picture, above, is from Elizabeth Perry's site, Woolgathering. She's just about to celebrate her 1000th consecutive day of drawing and posting! Wow. . . .

the lawn is always greener. . . .

In California, 2,700 registered sex offenders have been told they will have to move because they are in violation of a new law that prohibits them from living within 2000 feet of a school or park. 2000 feet. That's almost 7 football fields away. And that can make life difficult for someone looking for a place to live back in society. California anticipates that many will end up homeless. Their plan? Make them call their probation officer every day to report where they spent the night.

That'll help. I'm sure.

In Florida, some registered sex offenders have had to move out onto a causeway, under a bridge in order to comply with Florida's more restrictive 2500 feet (almost a half mile) from any school, park, and 'other places where children might gather'. Chucky Cheese, maybe, or McDonalds?

Meanwhile, 70 Betty Perry was arrested last week in Utah for failing to water her lawn. A police officer confronted her at the home, demanded that she identify herself (dangerous lawn-not-waterer that she is!), and then arrested her when she refused to cooperate.

What have we come to?!

We're imprisoning people for failing to maintain grass in a desert state, and we're releasing sex offenders in California and Florida and then making it impossible for them to live anywhere. Maybe they could go take care of Betty's lawn? Turns out Utah doesn't have any restrictions about where sex offenders live. Yet.

So long as their lawn is green.

freedom vs. 'correctness'

The king sent me the link to an article about the results of a recent survey on the 1st Amendment. You know the one: the amendment that promises the government won't do anything to restrict freedom of religion & practice thereof, free speech, free press, freedom to assemble and freedom to petition for redress of grievances. It turns out that more people can name the characters on the Simpsons than can name the freedoms included in the 1st Amendment.

They didn't ask me. I would have given their numbers a run for the money. All I know are Homer and Bart, and I've never actually seen the show. I take some pride in this.

What I found interesting, however, was a rising correlation between a so-called freedom of religion that seems to include the right not to be offended by the T-shirts that others wear.

So let's say that I'm a Christian - with a big capital "C" - and I go to work and am subjected to a co-worker who wears a T-shirt that comments on Jesus' supposed sexual proclivities. . . . Where does that leave us? Is that a violation of my freedom of religion? And if so, does telling the co-worker she can't wear it anymore violate her freedom of speech?

I was going to post a picture of an example of an offensive T-shirt but at first found only pretty tame ones: the Jesus deliver me from your followers type. But that wasn't really something to get worked up about. Jesus was a crossdresser was a bit more to the point. . . . but then I found one really nasty site that sells T-shirts saying things (and with pictures!) I wouldn't have wanted to see said under any circumstances, about anybody! (and no, I am NOT going to post their address. barf.) I can't believe anyone would want to walk around wearing something like that.

At the same time, I don't find it a violation of my freedom of religion. All I can say is that I'm glad pornography laws might prevent some of the worst of it. . . .

The bigger dispute seems to be between not wanting to "censor" somebody, but at the same time, wondering about what kind of society contains members who want to broadcast really nasty stuff. In the name of freedom.

You've got to wonder about someone who just can't see "freedom" without first testing it by degradation.

the one year rule

It sounds easy enough of application:

If you haven't worn it in a year, get rid of it.

Right. My first amendment was to increase the year to three. Time goes by so quickly these days. Three years is up before you know it.

My second amendment is the exception for expensive things. The reasoning should be self-evident, but I'll spell it out: I paid a LOT OF MONEY for this [or I would have paid a lot of money for this had I bought it, but I didn't because it was given to me or it was a deal but if I ever wanted to buy it it would cost BIG BUCKS] and I'm not just giving it away like that! Maybe I can find someone who will appreciate it. . . or sell it on Ebay? Hmmm. I'll have to think about that. Maybe I will wear it, after all. It was only that one time when I really was a little heavy that that dress made me look like a hippo in heat. But it's a Chanel, fer cryin' out loud! How bad could it look?! I'll wear it when I lose 10 more pounds.

While leads to three: I'm sure I'll weigh that weight again. One day.

Four follows function: you can't have too many basic black belts. Or little black dresses. Or simple flats. One more man-tailored shirt. . . I might need that coverup for the beach and there's a lot of wear left in those pants that were my favorites 5 years ago. For painting, maybe.

Five? Favorites. Enough said.

Six, sentiment. My mother gave me that skirt. It belonged to her mother. It's lace. Handmade. Nope, I don't think I've ever worn it. Look at that! There's no waist fastener. Maybe it's never been worn! How long have I had it? Well. . . . ah. . . .you see. . . . ten years? At least?

And I think I'll stop at seven, just because I'm getting depressed, realizing I could go on. . . and on. . . .

Seven is The Special Function I-might-need-that-one-day exception. Under this exception, I have a Bob Fosse beaded gown that I've never worn (see also exception 2, above), a Rennaisance festival cape and waist-cincher belt (hmmm that might look nice with the antique lace skirt. . . .), a vintage Irene suit, perfect for the film noir casting call, a student gown from Ireland, lawyer's wig, evil queen costume, thigh-high boots, Beduoin robe, and an assortment of black velvet formal wear. You can never have too much black velvet, as far as I'm concerned, and I see I've inadvertently strayed into Exception Eight: black velvet.