Overheard in Highland Park
I was having lunch yesterday when I heard two women talking about marriage. One was saying that now she's turned 30, she's feeling more pressure to get married.
"Well, don't rush into anything," her friend advised. "You have plenty of time."
The first woman went on to talk about her boyfriend of ten months. She wasn't sure if they should take the next step, well, because, "he's kind of a loser."
[Note: if you're referring to your boyfriend as a "loser" either you're settling or you don't truly love him. Either way, probably not a good idea to marry this person.]
"What do you mean?"
"Well he doesn't have a graduate degree and he's reluctant to get one. I keep telling him he should go back to school to get an M.B.A."
Wednesday
Tuesday
From "Jews and the Christian right: Is the honeymoon over?"
...
"'We are particularly offended by the suggestion that the opposite of the religious right is the voice of atheism,' he told his audience. 'We are appalled when 'people of faith' is used in such a way that it excludes us, as well as most Jews, Catholics and Muslims. What could be more bigoted than to claim that you have a monopoly on God and that anyone who disagrees with you is not a person of faith?'
"Much of Yoffie's sermon argued that for many Jews, liberalism is the result of religious values, not their antithesis. Being a liberal believer, he said, 'means believing that religion involves concern for the poor and the needy, and giving a fair shake to all. When people talk about God and yet ignore justice, it just feels downright wrong to us. When they cloak themselves in religion and forget mercy, it strikes us as blasphemy.'
...
"Speaking of those who caution him not to disturb the Jewish-evangelical alliance, Foxman says, 'If we cannot disagree, what kind of a friendship is it?'"
Read the rest at Salon.
Over the weekend, I read a great line in a review of Harold Bloom's latest book. "This notion was given bolder expression in a lecture I heard Bloom deliver about how the New Testament was a 'weak misreading' of the Hebrew Bible. I never thought I would hear a professor publicly proclaim - at Yale, no less - the great, private Jewish gripe that in layman's terms might be expressed: Christianity stole our watch and has spent 2,000 years telling us what time it is."
...
"Christ, for Bloom, is a betrayal of Jesus the man, Yeshua, who clearly lived inside a Jewish world, trusted in the covenant with Yahweh, did not think the Law was death, and would be appalled at, or at least entirely baffled by, the religion created in his name. Jesus belongs on one side of the Judeo-Christian divide, Christ on the other. Bloom is persuasively aware that the Judeo-Christian tradition is a convenient myth that joins two deeply incompatible religions."
Read the rest of "So Who Is King of the Jews?"
To my disappointment, many of the Christians I've met here, including the wife of a future pastor, are unkind, judgemental, materialistic, and do not accept the beliefs of others. If you're going to claim to be a Christian, try to act like one. Let me give you a few hints: Christ suggested you forgive, not judge others, turn the other cheek, and love your neighbor. Unless they're gay, I suppose. Or they don't agree with you. Then you can persecute them.
...
"'We are particularly offended by the suggestion that the opposite of the religious right is the voice of atheism,' he told his audience. 'We are appalled when 'people of faith' is used in such a way that it excludes us, as well as most Jews, Catholics and Muslims. What could be more bigoted than to claim that you have a monopoly on God and that anyone who disagrees with you is not a person of faith?'
"Much of Yoffie's sermon argued that for many Jews, liberalism is the result of religious values, not their antithesis. Being a liberal believer, he said, 'means believing that religion involves concern for the poor and the needy, and giving a fair shake to all. When people talk about God and yet ignore justice, it just feels downright wrong to us. When they cloak themselves in religion and forget mercy, it strikes us as blasphemy.'
...
"Speaking of those who caution him not to disturb the Jewish-evangelical alliance, Foxman says, 'If we cannot disagree, what kind of a friendship is it?'"
Read the rest at Salon.
Over the weekend, I read a great line in a review of Harold Bloom's latest book. "This notion was given bolder expression in a lecture I heard Bloom deliver about how the New Testament was a 'weak misreading' of the Hebrew Bible. I never thought I would hear a professor publicly proclaim - at Yale, no less - the great, private Jewish gripe that in layman's terms might be expressed: Christianity stole our watch and has spent 2,000 years telling us what time it is."
...
"Christ, for Bloom, is a betrayal of Jesus the man, Yeshua, who clearly lived inside a Jewish world, trusted in the covenant with Yahweh, did not think the Law was death, and would be appalled at, or at least entirely baffled by, the religion created in his name. Jesus belongs on one side of the Judeo-Christian divide, Christ on the other. Bloom is persuasively aware that the Judeo-Christian tradition is a convenient myth that joins two deeply incompatible religions."
Read the rest of "So Who Is King of the Jews?"
To my disappointment, many of the Christians I've met here, including the wife of a future pastor, are unkind, judgemental, materialistic, and do not accept the beliefs of others. If you're going to claim to be a Christian, try to act like one. Let me give you a few hints: Christ suggested you forgive, not judge others, turn the other cheek, and love your neighbor. Unless they're gay, I suppose. Or they don't agree with you. Then you can persecute them.
Just Wanted to Say
If you're looking for a good read, pick up the Jan./Feb. issue of Pindeldyboz. My friend Maria's short story "Red" is in that issue and it's excellent. Congrats to Maria!
Monday
A Strange Dream (and a Bad Case of Poison Ivy)
In my dream last night, it was the spring semester of my senior year in high school. I was friends with someone I no longer speak to. (The weird thing is in real life I didn’t meet this person until college.) So in my dream it seemed as though we shared some kind of temporary dorm room because we knew we were both attending a particular college in the fall. It wasn’t going to be our dorm room once we actually enrolled in school; rather, it was a temporary room we could come and stay at while we took care of our college preparations. (In the dream these preparations were extensive and required several visits over the spring semester.)
So we shared a room but we were rarely there at the same time. And in my dream we were having some of the problems our later friendship would face. Here’s the weird part. During one of my dream visits to the dorm I saw some of her belongings, which meant she was in town at the same time I was. Somehow I could tell by what she had left in the room that she had gone on a date. She left a notebook on her bed (not expecting I would be there the same weekend) that was filled with letters and pictures of her boyfriend. Some of those pictures were x-rated in nature.
In the dream I found myself reading all of the notes and looking at the pictures even though I knew it was wrong. Of course, she came home while I was reading and we ended up having a discussion about it all and clearing up a few things.
In real life, nothing like this ever happened. But what I think the dream means is that I perhaps I feel like I knew too many personal things about her, perhaps things I shouldn’t have known (in real life I didn’t discover these things through snooping, but in day-to-day life). I equated these things in my sleeping mind with sex/x-rated photos/very personal letters, etc. which, again, does not directly correspond to real life but I understand why those things came to mind.
This is going to sound a little strange, but sometimes I think you learn things about people that you don’t necessarily want to know. And they don’t want to tell you. But, like in poker, there are “tells.” There are some things you just can’t hide. And I’m not saying you should, but that once the knowledge is out there, knowing something can change a relationship.
I also find it interesting that the dream took place during my last semester of high school as I was preparing for a new phase. Because in real life, our friendship ended as I was going through a transition from one part of my life to another.
To me the dream means some things should remain private. Any other theories out there?
***
OK, this is more important than my dream but if you can’t tell, my dream really freaked me out. Nate has a serious case of poison ivy on his face, neck and arm. We think our cat is going into a neighbor’s yard that is seriously overgrown. We’ve seen a large poison ivy plant in the back. Our theory is the cat is going over there, rubbing against the ivy, and coming home and Nate is getting it on his hands. He’s had three serious outbreaks within the past year and he seems to have above-average sensitivity to poison ivy. So I think I’m going to go over to her house and volunteer to bring some roundup.
In my dream last night, it was the spring semester of my senior year in high school. I was friends with someone I no longer speak to. (The weird thing is in real life I didn’t meet this person until college.) So in my dream it seemed as though we shared some kind of temporary dorm room because we knew we were both attending a particular college in the fall. It wasn’t going to be our dorm room once we actually enrolled in school; rather, it was a temporary room we could come and stay at while we took care of our college preparations. (In the dream these preparations were extensive and required several visits over the spring semester.)
So we shared a room but we were rarely there at the same time. And in my dream we were having some of the problems our later friendship would face. Here’s the weird part. During one of my dream visits to the dorm I saw some of her belongings, which meant she was in town at the same time I was. Somehow I could tell by what she had left in the room that she had gone on a date. She left a notebook on her bed (not expecting I would be there the same weekend) that was filled with letters and pictures of her boyfriend. Some of those pictures were x-rated in nature.
In the dream I found myself reading all of the notes and looking at the pictures even though I knew it was wrong. Of course, she came home while I was reading and we ended up having a discussion about it all and clearing up a few things.
In real life, nothing like this ever happened. But what I think the dream means is that I perhaps I feel like I knew too many personal things about her, perhaps things I shouldn’t have known (in real life I didn’t discover these things through snooping, but in day-to-day life). I equated these things in my sleeping mind with sex/x-rated photos/very personal letters, etc. which, again, does not directly correspond to real life but I understand why those things came to mind.
This is going to sound a little strange, but sometimes I think you learn things about people that you don’t necessarily want to know. And they don’t want to tell you. But, like in poker, there are “tells.” There are some things you just can’t hide. And I’m not saying you should, but that once the knowledge is out there, knowing something can change a relationship.
I also find it interesting that the dream took place during my last semester of high school as I was preparing for a new phase. Because in real life, our friendship ended as I was going through a transition from one part of my life to another.
To me the dream means some things should remain private. Any other theories out there?
***
OK, this is more important than my dream but if you can’t tell, my dream really freaked me out. Nate has a serious case of poison ivy on his face, neck and arm. We think our cat is going into a neighbor’s yard that is seriously overgrown. We’ve seen a large poison ivy plant in the back. Our theory is the cat is going over there, rubbing against the ivy, and coming home and Nate is getting it on his hands. He’s had three serious outbreaks within the past year and he seems to have above-average sensitivity to poison ivy. So I think I’m going to go over to her house and volunteer to bring some roundup.
Wednesday
Austin Civil Rights Activist Dies
"Whenever Volma Overton tested the boundaries of segregation at Austin restaurants and other 'whites only' gathering spots during the Sixties and Seventies, he was usually accompanied by a small army of unlikely soldiers – his four children."
Read the rest on the AusChron site.
"Whenever Volma Overton tested the boundaries of segregation at Austin restaurants and other 'whites only' gathering spots during the Sixties and Seventies, he was usually accompanied by a small army of unlikely soldiers – his four children."
Read the rest on the AusChron site.
Tuesday
From "Gulf Coast Slaves"
"Halliburton and its subcontractors hired hundreds of undocumented Latino workers to clean up after Katrina -- only to mistreat them and throw them out without pay.
...
Still, tracing the line from unpaid undocumented workers to their multibillion-dollar employers is a daunting task. A shadowy labyrinth of contractors, subcontractors and job brokers, overseen by no single agency, have created a no man's land where nobody seems to be accountable for the hiring -- and abuse -- of these workers.
...
I was with Cintra when she received phone calls from several Latino workers who complained they were denied, under threat of deportation, the right to leave the base at Belle Chasse. Cintra also took me along on visits to squalid trailer parks -- like the one at Arlington Heights in Gulfport -- where up to 19 unpaid, unfed and undocumented KBR site workers inhabited a single trailer for $70 per person, per week. Workers there and on the bases complained of suffering from diarrhea, sprained ankles, cuts and bruises, and other injuries sustained on the KBR sites -- where they received no medical assistance, despite being close to medical facilities on the same bases they were cleaning and helping rebuild."
Read the rest on Salon.
"Halliburton and its subcontractors hired hundreds of undocumented Latino workers to clean up after Katrina -- only to mistreat them and throw them out without pay.
...
Still, tracing the line from unpaid undocumented workers to their multibillion-dollar employers is a daunting task. A shadowy labyrinth of contractors, subcontractors and job brokers, overseen by no single agency, have created a no man's land where nobody seems to be accountable for the hiring -- and abuse -- of these workers.
...
I was with Cintra when she received phone calls from several Latino workers who complained they were denied, under threat of deportation, the right to leave the base at Belle Chasse. Cintra also took me along on visits to squalid trailer parks -- like the one at Arlington Heights in Gulfport -- where up to 19 unpaid, unfed and undocumented KBR site workers inhabited a single trailer for $70 per person, per week. Workers there and on the bases complained of suffering from diarrhea, sprained ankles, cuts and bruises, and other injuries sustained on the KBR sites -- where they received no medical assistance, despite being close to medical facilities on the same bases they were cleaning and helping rebuild."
Read the rest on Salon.
Changing the Subject
I just wanted to tell you I am very tired. For the past three days, we've been painting the hallway. Ceiling, two wall colors, and last night we started the trim. One more day of painting and then clean up. Our house was a rental house and we find evidence of this all the time. All of the rooms used to be different colors and whoever painted the walls white (was it the tenants? the landlords who then sold the house to us?) did such a craptastic job that you can usually see the previous color through the white. They did only one coat and that coat might have been primer. So sometimes when I'm exhausted and looking at a can of paint, I remind myself why we're doing this. Which is, this is our house, something we waited for a long time, and we are now painting walls because we can. And, oh yeah, if we don't paint you can see some other color through the white.
The hallways is sort of divided into two sections. The regular long part that leads to all the rooms, and this one sort of small section that connects the entry way to the den. So we painted the long part a mellow yellow. Right away as the color was going on the wall, we agreed we liked it. In the small entry way section, I picked indigo. You've got to wonder what Nate is thinking when he agrees with my harebrained ideas. As the first coat went on, we kept saying, "I don't know." But I hadn't mixed the paint well enough (so it was going on sort of streaky) and now that the second coat is on, it looks better. It's very dark (I knew it would be) but I think I like it. I want to see how it looks when everything is done and the art is back on the walls. Worst case scenario: we paint over the indigo. But right now I think it could work.
I'm wondering how crazy I'm going to continue to be with these colors. My office is a turquoise. Nate's office is very chill. A grey and a blue grey. Then we have the yellow/indigo hall. I've thought about painting our dining room red and kahki. Too much? Maybe. Maybe I should be more sedate with two softer colors divided by crown molding. So much more soothing, right? Then I start thinking about my bright colors ...
Friday
Love is in the air
Sometimes, you just know. You have that feeling. All you have to do is read the signs.
Sometimes, you just know. You have that feeling. All you have to do is read the signs.
Tuesday
Just when I think
that maybe I'm being overly sensitive, and that everyone has difficulties in their lives, and maybe I should move on to another topic, I read this.
that maybe I'm being overly sensitive, and that everyone has difficulties in their lives, and maybe I should move on to another topic, I read this.
Thursday
Racism
This is a heavy topic. I bring it up because today I read this and it got me to thinking.
"Something I don't think most white people understand is how much black folks hate having to be black. Not that we hate our culture and all of that--though many civilians and one Supreme Court justice do--but how much we hate that we have to be black. We hate having to deal with all this nonsense. We hate being assumed to be stupid. We hate being assumed to be hoodlums. We hate being the stereotypical portrait of nearly everything bad in this society.
And we really hate that when we mention something that should be self-evident--that racism exists and that we all continue to suffer from it--that we are instantly told that we are playing some bogus notion of a race card.
Race is not the card, folks. It is the table on which all games are played. We wish it was just a card, something that could be easily flipped, discarded, and dealt again. It's not that. It's an albatross around our necks that we have no power to eliminate. If anything gives me an ulcer in my life, it will be that. Trust.
...
But why don't white writers talk about this stuff? It's more about why don't white people talk about this stuff more. Part of it is that I don't think white folks ever have to think of how intricate and nuanced expressions of racism are in this era. Now that it's out of style to be overtly racist, racism manifests itself insidiously and systemically. It lurks on the low, but in a way that you don't really see unless you have to deal with it. Kind of like how I'm looking outside of my window and it looks sunny. Only when I go to my car will I realize it's forty-five degrees.
I say that to say this--a lot of white people really don't get it until someone else tells them. And how should they? Ask most white people you know who many black people they know. I know for a fact that I'm a lot of people's only black friend. They just don't know any black people. If they knew more, they'd know more.
But from their windows, it looks sunny. I frequently am forced to be the one to tell 'em the temperature."
Read more here:
http://www.bomanijones.com/2005/11/03/08.26.03/index.html#more
I found Mr. Jones' site recently. I don't remember exactly how but it probably has something to do with me reading his sister's book, The Untelling. That's the book I was referrring to, by the way, on October 21 when I said sometimes I read other books and groan because I know I'm not that good yet.
Sorry for quoting such a long passage but the post really nailed a lot of things I've been thinking about. I've heard a lot of Anglos say they don't think racism is a problem. These are good people who are honestly shocked that others have to deal with this shit every day. The reason they are shocked is that they are white. And they mostly deal with other white people.
I know that I haven't suffered the same kind of racism my parents or grandparents have. My grandmother (who is at least a fifth-generation Texan) was once loaded up into an immigration truck to be taken to Mexico. Why? La migra had decided to raid a lake and my grandmother happened to be in a bathing suit and didn't have her ID on her. Because she looked and sounded Mexican, she got loaded up too. Didn't matter that she said she was a citizen. My grandfather eventually cleared things up, but this is the kind of thing that I'm sure could still happen if you're brown enough and speak with an accent.
My mother and grandparents regularly had to eat in the kitchens of restaurants in West Texas. They were not allowed to eat in the dining room. My mother is not old.
I always found it strange that my parents like to travel at night. Because we lived in the desert, they said it was to avoid the heat of the day. So when taking a long road trip, they would often start the drive at midnight and rest during the day. I thought it was quirky but whatever. I figured they'd picked it up from their parents. Recently, I was reading about black musicians who traveled at night. It was easier to avoid problems with restaurants and hotels that didn't want to serve you. I don’t know if this has influenced my parents or not. I think it has.
I have a lighter complexion than some of my family members and my last name doesn't sound Spanish. I assume that is why I've been told: "Are you sure you're not South American? You seem so educated for a Mexican."
My neighbor and I were discussing our trees and how they were close to the power lines. She had recently had her trees trimmed and recommended the man who had done the work. "He was Mexican, but he did a good job."
When Nate and I were engaged, we lived in Chicago. We wanted to get married in Austin. We asked our moms to scout a couple of locations for us, to help narrow down our choices, and then Nate and I planned to go visit their recommendations. Nate's mother (who is white) arrived and was greeted. She was shown various rooms and told about the different arrangements that could be made. My mother and sister showed up and were immediately asked if they were there to help serve for the wedding that afternoon.
Before Nate, I dated a Puerto Rican who had a dark complexion. I noticed that he got pulled over at least once a week for things like not signaling when he switched lanes. When he walked into stores, he was always asked to check his bags. When he presented his check card, he was always asked to show his ID. Once I asked him why he was so concerned with his appearance (shaving, keeping his hair cut religiously, etc.). He said that when he looked clean cut, he got treated better. He still got hassled, just less.
I could keep going but this subject just makes me tired. There is still racism. It's just different nowadays. The darker you are, the more you talk with an accent, the more you seem “different,” the more problems you have. Period.
This is a heavy topic. I bring it up because today I read this and it got me to thinking.
"Something I don't think most white people understand is how much black folks hate having to be black. Not that we hate our culture and all of that--though many civilians and one Supreme Court justice do--but how much we hate that we have to be black. We hate having to deal with all this nonsense. We hate being assumed to be stupid. We hate being assumed to be hoodlums. We hate being the stereotypical portrait of nearly everything bad in this society.
And we really hate that when we mention something that should be self-evident--that racism exists and that we all continue to suffer from it--that we are instantly told that we are playing some bogus notion of a race card.
Race is not the card, folks. It is the table on which all games are played. We wish it was just a card, something that could be easily flipped, discarded, and dealt again. It's not that. It's an albatross around our necks that we have no power to eliminate. If anything gives me an ulcer in my life, it will be that. Trust.
...
But why don't white writers talk about this stuff? It's more about why don't white people talk about this stuff more. Part of it is that I don't think white folks ever have to think of how intricate and nuanced expressions of racism are in this era. Now that it's out of style to be overtly racist, racism manifests itself insidiously and systemically. It lurks on the low, but in a way that you don't really see unless you have to deal with it. Kind of like how I'm looking outside of my window and it looks sunny. Only when I go to my car will I realize it's forty-five degrees.
I say that to say this--a lot of white people really don't get it until someone else tells them. And how should they? Ask most white people you know who many black people they know. I know for a fact that I'm a lot of people's only black friend. They just don't know any black people. If they knew more, they'd know more.
But from their windows, it looks sunny. I frequently am forced to be the one to tell 'em the temperature."
Read more here:
http://www.bomanijones.com/2005/11/03/08.26.03/index.html#more
I found Mr. Jones' site recently. I don't remember exactly how but it probably has something to do with me reading his sister's book, The Untelling. That's the book I was referrring to, by the way, on October 21 when I said sometimes I read other books and groan because I know I'm not that good yet.
Sorry for quoting such a long passage but the post really nailed a lot of things I've been thinking about. I've heard a lot of Anglos say they don't think racism is a problem. These are good people who are honestly shocked that others have to deal with this shit every day. The reason they are shocked is that they are white. And they mostly deal with other white people.
I know that I haven't suffered the same kind of racism my parents or grandparents have. My grandmother (who is at least a fifth-generation Texan) was once loaded up into an immigration truck to be taken to Mexico. Why? La migra had decided to raid a lake and my grandmother happened to be in a bathing suit and didn't have her ID on her. Because she looked and sounded Mexican, she got loaded up too. Didn't matter that she said she was a citizen. My grandfather eventually cleared things up, but this is the kind of thing that I'm sure could still happen if you're brown enough and speak with an accent.
My mother and grandparents regularly had to eat in the kitchens of restaurants in West Texas. They were not allowed to eat in the dining room. My mother is not old.
I always found it strange that my parents like to travel at night. Because we lived in the desert, they said it was to avoid the heat of the day. So when taking a long road trip, they would often start the drive at midnight and rest during the day. I thought it was quirky but whatever. I figured they'd picked it up from their parents. Recently, I was reading about black musicians who traveled at night. It was easier to avoid problems with restaurants and hotels that didn't want to serve you. I don’t know if this has influenced my parents or not. I think it has.
I have a lighter complexion than some of my family members and my last name doesn't sound Spanish. I assume that is why I've been told: "Are you sure you're not South American? You seem so educated for a Mexican."
My neighbor and I were discussing our trees and how they were close to the power lines. She had recently had her trees trimmed and recommended the man who had done the work. "He was Mexican, but he did a good job."
When Nate and I were engaged, we lived in Chicago. We wanted to get married in Austin. We asked our moms to scout a couple of locations for us, to help narrow down our choices, and then Nate and I planned to go visit their recommendations. Nate's mother (who is white) arrived and was greeted. She was shown various rooms and told about the different arrangements that could be made. My mother and sister showed up and were immediately asked if they were there to help serve for the wedding that afternoon.
Before Nate, I dated a Puerto Rican who had a dark complexion. I noticed that he got pulled over at least once a week for things like not signaling when he switched lanes. When he walked into stores, he was always asked to check his bags. When he presented his check card, he was always asked to show his ID. Once I asked him why he was so concerned with his appearance (shaving, keeping his hair cut religiously, etc.). He said that when he looked clean cut, he got treated better. He still got hassled, just less.
I could keep going but this subject just makes me tired. There is still racism. It's just different nowadays. The darker you are, the more you talk with an accent, the more you seem “different,” the more problems you have. Period.
Tired
Last night and this morning, the power went out 2-3 times (that I know of). The first time, I was just on the edge of dreaming and waking when all the power went off. There was the sound of everything powering down and all the street lights and what not going off. Then the dogs freaked out. I think it happened two more times (I would wake hearing the beeps of various appliances coming back on) and the dogs would come to the bed to check on me/get comforted.
Walker (the husky/shepherd combo) wasn't afraid. I think he was more curious, putting his nose on the bed to ask what's going on? But Sophi gets nervous about things like that. With Nate gone, they are hovering around me all the time. I think it's a combination of things. They seem both more protective and needing more attention because their normal daily buddy is gone for a couple of days. Where is he? Where did he go? When is he coming back?
I've been walking them both simultaneously. This is not an easy thing, necessarily. Sophi is about 55 pounds and Walker (last time we checked ) is 66. I keep Walker on my right hand, though he has been behaving well. They do like to play with other dogs' poop and no one seems to scoop in Dallas so I have to pay attention.
I really like our neighborhood but there's one thing that sort of drives me crazy. Several of our neighbors just let their dogs out into the front yards without leashes or supervision. At least seven that I see regularly. Two have jumped out at my car either as I'm going to or from work. And naturally, it can make for some aggressive scenes if you're walking by with two dogs. That's my least favorite part of taking the dogs around the 'hood. The most annoying part of this non-leash thing is that two of the dogs come over in the morning to our house or the neighbor's house regularly and poop on our front yards. Did I mention no one scoops? I'm trying to figure out a neighborly way to deal with this. But it seems like an accepted thing in the neighborhood, so I don't know what the best course of action (if any) is.
And of course, my Mr. Nate is gone for a couple of days for work reasons. The house is quiet and it's hard to sleep anyway. Power pops and annoying dogs aren't helping.