More war widows

I've written before about Rwanda and the sponsorship program Women for Women does there. I just got my first letter from my new sponsorship sister, J, a war widow raising seven children. I thought about her and my former sponsorship sister in light of a piece on Rwanda I read recently.

According to this Washington Post piece, there's been a wave of suicides as traditional courts begin hearing genocide cases, leaving more holes in the social fabric and thwarting the search for justice. Between 100,000 and 500,000 people are expected to be tried by open-air courts, out of a total population of around 8 million.

[T]hough survivors express little sympathy for participants who killed themselves more than a decade later, some say their hopes for closure -- a full public accounting of crimes and accomplices, as well as details about the victims' final hours -- have been dashed by the suicides.

Even now, the genocide is making widows. One woman interviewed had two small children to raise alone after her husband killed himself. I think of J raising seven, and the only less-than-enthusiastic phrase in her short note to me: "I live a hard life, but I am patient." I hope her patience and hard work are rewarded with social stability and justice. I wonder what it will take for her country to get there.

"Known to be armed and shown to be dangerous"

The King of Zembla brings tidings of Harper's editor Lewis Lapham's essay, The Case for Impeachment. Canny Harper's posted only a portion of the print version, but what a portion it is. Lapham reviews the Conyers report:

Before reading the report, I wouldn't have expected to find myself thinking that such a course of action was either likely or possible; after reading the report, I don't know why we would run the risk of not impeaching the man. We have before us in the White House a thief who steals the country's good name and reputation for his private interest and personal use; a liar who seeks to instill in the American people a state of fear; a televangelist who engages the United States in a never-ending crusade against all the world's evil, a wastrel who squanders a vast sum of the nation's wealth on what turns out to be a recruiting drive certain to multiply the host of our enemies. In a word, a criminal—known to be armed and shown to be dangerous. Under the three-strike rule available to the courts in California, judges sentence people to life in jail for having stolen from Wal-Mart a set of golf clubs or a child's tricycle. Who then calls strikes on President Bush, and how many more does he get before being sent down on waivers to one of the Texas Prison Leagues?

Who, indeed? The putative owners of the "ownership society." Bush works for us, whether he realizes it or not.

Behold the power of suggestion

Rocketboy had a great birthday and took a little factoid to heart -- the idea that seven is considered by some to be the "age of reason." I mentioned it in passing, and he asked if that meant I would start treating him like he has some sense.

He says he feels more mature and has even started acting like it. He is still fascinated with all things potty-humored but tonight at dinner he volunteered to serve second helpings and did so graciously. He passed on the chance to throw a fit upon learning there was only a little ice cream left and even thanked Hombre for the small amount he got. Trust me, this is a complete break from his six-year-old style.

Maybe next year I'll tell him eight is considered the age of doing one's own laundry.

Seven-year itch

I'm avoiding you but I have a good reason. Tomorrow is Rocketboy's seventh birthday. Tonight I decorate the house, tomorrow I supervise such festivities as the creation of a rocket-shaped birthday cake, a trip to his favorite park in a nearby city and/or a trip to this place with a ton of moonwalks.

Here's wishing you all a weekend filled with unexpected delights and a huge sugar buzz.

If the door won't work, try a window

I caught Hurricanehead taste-testing his play dough this morning -- tongue out, eyebrows raised, casting me a sideways glance.

"Not food," I said.

"Oh." He set it down posthaste.

That was easy, I thought. Then a couple of minutes later I saw him stuffing small dough balls into his ears.

Sit still and eat Twinkies and nobody will get hurt

I hurt my neck Sunday bowling with the family. I thought I was completely over that old yoga injury, but it's back and it's pissed. If you see a woman in her minivan at a stoplight doing funky head bobs like she's in a New Order video, that's me trying to get everything to go back where it belongs. I learned to bust those moves in physical therapy more than a year ago -- therapy for which my health-insurance company is still giving me shit. Goddamned yoga and bowling.

Having a yoga/bowling injury is so lame that it reminds me of the time three years ago when I shattered a molar eating a vegan energy bar made of seeds. A friend gave it to me; I was hungry and thought, Ooh, free snack! The resultant root canal and crown cost me several hundred bucks. Goddamned seeds.

I did fight through the pain to go out with friends last night, one of whom passed along word of Steve, don't eat it! The man will, it seems, consume anything -- prison-style wine fermented in a sock, pickled pork rinds, potted meat, cereal from the first Bush administration--and then describe it in amusingly profane terms:

I knew I was in trouble as soon as I opened the jar, and heard no reassuring vacuum seal. I must admit that made me nervous, but what are the odds of a dusty jar of warm pig skin going bad, right?

Lifting the lid revealed a weird sour smell, something akin to mild vinegar and stale meat. I almost want to say it was like a freshly douched pork chop. But I won't. Why? Because I'm a fucking gentleman.

Steve eats these things and lives to tell the tale. He's obviously made of tougher stuff than I.

President's Day gift

I hope everyone's enjoying this fine federal holiday, which Rocketboy astutely observed will never be repurposed to include the current president.

On this day of leisure I have time to address something that's been popping up at least weekly for many months now: a small but steady stream of RedMo visitors who get here following a search for "show off my breasts." While I am #2 on Google for that particular web search string, and damned proud of it, it's due to a post on women with implants and the trouble they have finding clothing that fits. The post title that garners such attention was a lamentatious quote from one such woman.

My ranking is not due to any display of breasts on my blog, nor of any desire to recruit those eager to display their own. For visitors seeking that sort of thing, kindly allow me to direct your attention here or suggest that you search for images rather than words. Best of luck.

Friday sustainability roundup

Perrito reacted to the bad news about Greenland by immediately seeking higher ground.


I should probably be building a houseboat, but here's what I've been reading instead:

Feministing reports on a solar-lighting project by women in Bengal.

Patagonia uses its considerable wind power to electrify rural areas.

BBC looks at a new study on sustainable farming in the developing world.

And Evil Mommy works on water conservation.

Have a great weekend.

Today's lessons

Sit down:

PENSACOLA, Fla. --A middle school gym teacher let children sit out his class if they paid him $1 a day, collecting perhaps thousands of dollars, officials said Thursday.

and shut up:

The Senate Intelligence Committee decided today not to investigate President Bush's domestic surveillance program, at least for the time being.

Fortunately not everyone's playing along, as the Prissy Patriot reports from yesterday's anti-Bush protest in Ohio:

Afterwards, several Bushies came over to ask questions of the Veterans protesting Bush. Prissy hears they parted on good terms and Bush lost more support as a result of protestors (Veterans, especially) kindly setting these lost lambs straight.

Speaking of sit down and shut up, I got a call from the Democratic National Committee this evening, asking me to piss away some more money. I told the caller that since Alito was confirmed, "I won't give you any more money. Forget about it."

As I hung up I heard her saying, "We need you..."

Yes, you do, DNC. You need to sit down, shut up, listen to what your base has to say and then actually act on it. Good luck.

Back to work, people

The Cheney shooting distracted me. Totally. But I agree with Stupid County that it's time to move along now:

I don't see any point in witch-hunting after Cheney now over his hunting accident; the man has other blood on his hands that is far more interesting to investigate.

Simbaud has a sampler of outrages from which I've been distracted. And there's always this.

It's raining teeth

Jeez, I can't turn around lately without tripping on one of these things.

Rocketboy has lost four teeth in the past couple of weeks. The most recent one came out when he bit Hombre's shirt during a living-room wrestling match. Rboy now whistles when he talks, and two or three more of his baby choppers are flapping in the breeze.

I hope the new teeth come in stat, or he's going to be living on V8 and smoothies. It was sad to watch him try to eat one if his favorite treats, a chocolate-dipped pretzel stick from the neighborhood chocolatier, but tragic that I had to finish it for him.

And my niece has lost her first tooth. At not-quite-five she's dentally precocious, in keeping with her overall way of being. She's a take-charge child: While the tooth fairy is allowed to take her tooth and leave an offering, said fairy is not allowed in her room. The tooth pillow will be left in the hallway so that she may slumber undisturbed.

Hombre and I have refined our tooth technique since the disaster when he accidentally fed Rocketboy's very first lost tooth down the garbage disposal. But these other spent teeth are piling up like a gnarly snowdrift. What do you do with them?

Hacker-in-chief

A Norbiz post from last week popped up in my feed again, a sign that I should share his gem of a photo caption with those you who haven't seen it already:

If this country was like an 18-round hole of golf, he would have shot a 231, impaled three caddies with golf clubs thrown out of frustration, accidentally blown up the clubhouse, drained the water hazard to build a TGIFriday's, and severely injured his own testicles in the ball-washer.

Ever notice how you never see W. and Dorf together?

Twisty much?

If not, you should. Her latest pro-choice post has it all -- logic, wit and a truly repulsive illustration.

Peaches and herb

The author shakes her groove thing in the garden



I'm going to plant carrot and spinach seeds, but first more victory garden jawboning.

First, the fruit. The peach trees' plump leaf buds unnerve me. I don't think they got enough chill hours to set fruit this spring. Nonetheless, I've started pruning. One tree is in beautiful shape--small, easy to reach and pruned nicely for production. The other two are fugly collections of stumps and spindly new shoots, because we can only prune back 40% of each tree each year. They've got two or three more years to go before they're manageable and producing decent fruit. Peach trees don't fruit on old growth, and old, overgrown trees produce less new wood. Hence the whacking.

The dewberry vine under the red oaks thrived last year on my neglect, produced a lovely ongoing crop, and birds ate all the damned berries. I'm not sure how to save some for the hominids this year. The vine's out front and I don't want to net it but I reserve the right to do so. The blackberry vine in back--the one Perrito didn't uproot to play with--is still dormant. Likewise the grapevine near the shed.

I expected to baby my small pineapple guava tree through the winter, but thanks to climate change it's still perky and green. I read that squirrels love to eat the flowers after I cluelessly planted it near a small oak mott that's Squirrel Central. It's out back so come spring I probably will throw a net over it.

As for the herbs, epazote, oregano, variegated sage, and chives have coasted through the 'winter' with ease. The mint is re-emerging from the soil; the chile pequin is, too, although a few cold nights will probably send it back underground. Italian parsley sprouts are up. I may start some dill this month.

I'll be able to expand the herb list as the weather gets warmer. Anything I should consider?

The hits just keep coming

Now Cheney's quail-hunting victim has had a heart attack because birdshot is lodged in his heart. But did the White House come clean on it? Come on.

I love you almost as much as sweet vindication

Have I told you all lately how much I love you? Not just because you read my blog. You also share tidbits about rose-flavored ice cream, energy-conservation tips, all manner of political observations, and funny kid stories.

One of you even solved a longstanding mystery for me. Way back in May of last year I wrote about my thrift-store dustup with a woman who mistook a bookshelf for a table. My commenters (and there were some -- I don't know why Haloscan posts 0 on the older comments threads, but you can still click and read them) agreed with me that it was a shelf, but thanks to dd I have the best evidence yet that I was right:

The top shelf is for World Book Encyclopedias, the big bottom part for the children's version, and the sides and bottom are for the various atlases and such they sold with the set. My parents still have that whole set, still on that bookshelf.

See there? That other shopper was off her nut trying to call that thing a table. Still, I tend to self-doubt, and she planted the seed of it. She might have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for you, meddling kid!

Happy Valentine's Day.

The gang that couldn't shoot straight

The Bush Cheney follies continue apace, with a few Republican legislators starting to understand their role in the rat/ship dynamic. It's a good time to update the Impeachment Toolkit.

Aldea neatly explains why--if you still need convincing--we need to show Joe Lieberman the door. You may not be able to cast a ballot in Connecticut, but you can vote with your dollars.

And firedoglake has an actblue page devoted to usurping Texas DINO Henry Cuellar with Ciro Rodriguez, a man who I presume will forego the healing touch of W. at state events.

Gratuitous Monday critterblogging

Why wait until Friday? I spent most of yesterday planting onion sets and seeds for edible pansies, watching Rocketboy and Hurricanehead conduct delightful and foolish experiments with a cable spool, a tow rope, a tree and a Cozy Coupe, and critterwatching. Consider these an early Valentine's gift.

Despite the heat, Easter Beagle is still sporting a little of her lighter-colored winter coat. Looks tortoiseshell, doesn't it? She's the tortoise and the hare, yo.

We get a lot of these guys during the warmer months.



Dogzilla (b) and Perrito, who's not so -ito anymore, preparing to wallow in leaf mold.



Is Perrito ready for Cute Overload?


He seems to think so.

Happy Monday.

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right

Ever have a blog crush go sour? I've admired PZ Myers for a while now for his evolution resources, his take on the ID-in-schools battles and his love of science. But when I read his post on Ken Ham, it disappointed the hell out of me.

It's not that I support Ken Ham. Ham's as full of shit as a Christmas turkey and trying to brainwash kids into rejecting science in favor of fundamentalism. But in his fury at Ham's actions, Myers attacks the beliefs of moderate Christians like yours truly and ends up sounding like an angry fundamentalist himself. It is not his best work.

"God." Once again, I'm going to give good, liberal progressive Christians the vapors and point out that there is the destroyer, the idea that ruins young minds and corrupts education: god.

Fundamentalists, whatever their stripe, believe there is only one true evil. For religious fundies, godlessness is the archevil that explains everything bad. For Myers, it's god. But this black-or-white thinking is a cognitive distortion, no matter who's practicing it. If only we could get everyone to follow God's word, say the religious fundies, we'd live in a great world free of gay sex and uppity women. While in Myers' view, all children would grow up smart and our educational system would straighten itself out if only everyone quit believing in God. Right. Just like magic!

Ham has god on the brain, and he exploits other people who have god on the brain to give him millions of dollars so he can run around the country and put god on the brain of the next generation.

No argument from me. Back when I was Redneck Tween, getting dragged to church every Sunday by my Southern Baptist grandmother because my atheist/agnostic parents needed a break from my smart mouth, I realized that certain aspects of her church were like a Ponzi scheme, specifically the notion that one would burn in hell for not 'witnessing' to unbelievers. You had to recruit or burn. I didn't have a framework for this until I went to college and learned about Kant's ends principle, at which point I could say, yes, this is an immoral manipulation of people's guilt and fear to keep one's own ass out of eternal hellfire. That's what Ham is doing, in my opinion, and it's wrong.

I know. Many of you support science, and you carefully set aside your religious biases when assessing ideas about the world--—you've managed to find means to cope with this infectious lie. That doesn't change the ugly fact that it is a lie, a crippling corruption,

This is exactly the kind of language the Bible-pounding pastor at my grandmother's church used to describe unbelief and the secular world. 'You may think you're living a good life, but without Jesus in your heart you are living a lie!' It's the black-or-white sales pitch fundamentalists use to convince people that theirs is the absolute truth and everything else is false. Here Myers just inverts that come-on in the service of atheism.

Furthermore, if moderate Christians support science, who cares what else they believe? I could believe that when I die I'll get to ride Sparkle Pony over Tom DeLay's bare ass in perpetuity, but as long as I don't try to convince anyone else that they'll get a turn, does it matter? Or does everyone who supports evolution and science have to be ideologically pure the way fundies have to be pure of heart?

and that many people don't even try to sequester their superstitions and cultivate their rational side.

So all religions are all bad, all the time and they cause everything bad and stupid. We're back to the fundie-style cognitive distortion we saw earlier. I see irrationality in nonreligious people, too--the ones who go for crazy shit like ear candling and the folks who only eat raw foods because, as one such devotee told me, "humans are the only animals who cook their food so it must not be natural." I live in Austin. I am surrounded by proof that atheism and superstition are not mutually exclusive.

When I hear Christians make excuses for their religion, it's like hearing smallpox survivors praising their scars. "It didn't kill me, and these poxy marks add character to my face! Those deadly cases have nothing to do with my own delightful disease."

So we do nothing. We let the infection simmer along, encouraging our children to get exposed to it, praising it, howling in anger at those who dare to say the obvious and point out that it's a poison, a mind-killer, vacuous noise and evil nonsense. We let the absurdity flourish.

You know what might work better than respecting other people's right to believe what they want while setting boundaries to keep them from imposing their beliefs on others? Attacking people. Especially people who believe that you're evil to begin with. That'll show 'em that you really have their best interests at heart and they'll jump right onto your bandwagon. While you're at it, go after people who may not think exactly as you do but who support your goals for science education. Allies are overrated.

We know exactly where the vileness grows, in the cesspool of religion, yet we veer away from confronting the source, draining the contagion, eliminating the vector of ignorance.

And you would do this how, exactly? Re-education camps? Stonings? Psychotropic meds in the water? Prosecution of thought crimes? Once we've drained the contagion and eliminated the vector of ignorance, you're still gonna have to get those damned raw-food atheists to use a stove. Tell me you're just feeling pissy here, PZ, because this sounds a lot like Christian Dominionist talk, with atheism in place of God. Try it out:

All religious organizations, congregations etc. other than strictly Fundamentalist Christianity atheism would be suppressed. Nonconforming Evangelical, main line and liberal Christian religious institutions would no longer be allowed to hold services, organize, proselytize, etc. [edit mine]

On the other hand, that worked out well in the Soviet Union so why not give it a shot here in the land of free speech?

We encourage it to thrive and it leads to well-meaning parents pressuring their impressionable kids into gulping down the ignorance-laced koolaid.

Because if it weren't for religion, parents would never transmit any wrongheaded or silly ideas to their kids. My own well-meaning, atheist/agnostic parents certainly never told me anything that turned out to be wrong or misguided. (Hi, Mom and Dad. If you're reading this, it turns out that you really can't snake-proof a bird dog with a garden hose. And sorry about the mothballs not repelling squirrels! Love you guys!)

So that's the gist of it. The comments went on forever, mostly pro-religion or con-, but as one commenter pointed out the focus should be on making sure good science is available in schools. Arguing over whose beliefs/unbeliefs are the purest and best wastes energy and time that supporters of science could better spend elsewhere.

When all was said and done, I felt that Myers was echoing what he despises--reactionary, anger-fueled dogma. I can understand being frustrated that the hydra-headed fundamentalist movement keeps popping up like Whack a Mole wasting time and money trying to slip its agenda into the public schools. I understand longing for a quick fix to the age-old problem of herding the easily led in directions that don't harm the rest of us.

I like to think that those of us in the middle ideologically could ally with people like Myers to beat back religious fundamentalist incursions into our laws and schools. But the notion of trading one brand of furious, oversimplified, controlling ideology for another is damned unappealing. If I wanted that, I'd be a fundamentalist myself.

Cheney hunts quail like he plans wars

Badly:

Vice President Dick Cheney accidentally shot and wounded a companion during a weekend quail hunting trip in Texas, spraying the fellow hunter in the face and chest with shotgun pellets.

Luckily the man wasn't seriously hurt, but I love the spin that it wasn't Cheney's fault. The ranch's owner struck a que sera, sera tone:

''This is something that happens from time to time. You now [sic], I've been peppered pretty well myself."

I come from a large family of avid bird and deer hunters and have had occasion to kill a few clay pigeons myself. And none of us has yet (knock wood) shot anyone in the face, even a little bit.

Update: While we here at Rancho Mother take firearm safety seriously and believe that a hunting accident is no laughing matter, Hombre's been reliving his headline-writing days. Some may say these are in poor taste, but what's really tacky is not looking where you shoot. An Hombre sampler:

Vice President Shoots Elderly Man in Grassy Field
Cheney Shoots 'Friend'
NRA Honoree Shoots Lawyer

And mine:
Cheney Opens Fire on Supporter

What've you got?

Back!

I had such posting plans yesterday, but the computer had other ideas. After several hours of negotiation and swearing, we're on track again. I blame Norton.

Victory vegetable update

Fruit and herb updates to follow. For those of you yawning or scratching your head, here's why I mix plants and politics.

Collards. Lord, have we got collards. I chop off their heads, and they leaf out all over again. You may not like collards if you haven't had them cooked well. Take the big, tough outer leaves and feed those to your rabbit, iguana or compost bin. Steam the rest, stew them with salt pork, or use my preferred method of stewing with chicken broth or veggie broth and some minced garlic.

Cabbages. The cabbage loopers found them p.d.q. Every leaf looks like a sieve. I could do B.t. but I don't want to wipe out the other Lepidoptera critters. Rabbit food, or slaw fixings if I chop it finely.

Broccoli. We ate the crowns, and smaller florets are popping out along the sides of the stems. They won't get very big so they'll end up in salads. Bonus: I fed a bunch of the biggest leaves to Easter Beagle after harvesting the crowns. Within a week the stems had tender new leaves that I cooked a la collards. Good stuff.

Lettuce. Coming along slower than last winter. I put it in a bed that gets a little less sun this time of year and I think that's why it's pokey. Tasty, though.

Sugar snap peas. About six inches tall now.

Radishes and the lone surviving beet. I cannot figure it out. Radishes are supposed to be no-brainers, but I have yet to harvest a single decent one. And one remaining beet? What did I do wrong?

Carrots. Doing their carroty thing. The first planting won't be ready for several weeks. I've done three succession plantings so far this winter and I may do another today.

Spinach. Flipping me the bird. Not one seed in the row has emerged yet. It's in the same bed with the lettuce. I may need to try in a sunnier spot.

Roses. The minis are blooming. Tonight's freeze will knock them back so I plan to round up the flowers today for culinary experiments. I'll post more about my edible flower fetish soon.

Onions. Still waiting for Texas 1015 sets to arrive at the nursery. I've set aside an entire bed just for these guys, lovingly enriched with rabbit poop and compost. Our last onion harvest, half a bed's worth, lasted about eight months. I'd love to be able to get from one harvest to the next with these critters.

Dandelions. Last year I waxed indifferent on the virtues of this fine, edible weed, and with all the foot and paw traffic out back now the greens are just pitiful. The blossoms, however, make a rabbit-pleasing snack. She even eats the ones that have gone to seed. Have I mentioned how much I love having a pet that turns weeds into fertilizer?

What are you growing? What would you grow if you could? And how is it that I've killed off the beets?

Everything here is nine

Hurricanehead now lays claim to all he sees, with his own toddleresque mispronunciation: "Nine!"

I was puzzled, because he says 'mom' just fine. I know he can make the initial 'm' sound. When he woke from his nap today and claimed my bedding for himself, I asked him to say 'mom' a few times. He happily obliged.

"Okay," I said, eager to help him become a more articulate speaker, "now say, 'mmmmine.' "

Big smile. He knew he could do it: "Nime!"

Surely you're joking, Mr. Attorney General

Our anachronism-loving AG wasn't very convincing yesterday. Republican rep Heather Wilson says it's time for a full Congressional investigation into the NSA follies.

What surprised me about that Gonzales clip I linked to was not that he was bullshitting as fast as he could. It's that there was no audible laughter when he asserted that George Washington had authorized electronic surveillance on a "far broader scale" than Bush. The lawmakers in the room were either cowed or not listening.

A golden opportunity was missed. You can't reason with liars and you can't score debate points against an administration whose m.o. is to say anything that will soothe, intimidate or distract from its bizarre acivities. Gonzales is an old hand at talking out of his ass (pardon the mixed imagery) and is not fazed by the polite, respectful questioning that is the stock in trade of our legislative branch.

But what if, when he asserted that Washington and Lincoln approved far more electronic surveillance than Bush, every sentient being in the room had burst out laughing? How does a craven flunky defend the indefensible against an honest reaction to absurdity? He can't. He can whine, sputter or repeat himself, but at that point, the game is up. Bullshit has been called without rancor or verbal sparring.

A simple disempowering gesture. God knows this administration has given lawmakers and the rest of us plenty of chances to use it.

Logic problem

I did not watch the NSA hearings yesterday, but this here clip from C&L [link fixed] both confirms my suspicions and tells me everything I need to know. (For safety, empty mouth before clicking link.)

Mr. Attorney General, the average American nine-year-old has some ancient coins she'd like to sell you.

Literally reducing our oil dependence*

*unlike some people

I have solar PV system bids in hand. I'm sharing for anyone who's thinking of going solar. And you are, aren't you, even if it's just a pipe dream? Imagine giving the finger to Bush's oilcorp cronies and other terror-financing regimes in one elegant gesture.

There were three contestants in the great bid-off, all highly recommended. First Guy brought a portfolio and a ladder and got to work measuring the roof. While the city said I would need to trim back part of a centuries-old oak tree in order to get a full 3 kW system up there, FG recommended we go with a smaller system and leave the tree alone, his rationale being that the shade saves more energy than PV would produce in the same space. He also shared the good news that the breaker box doesn't need an upgrade.

Loser Boy showed up late and announced that the breaker box needed an upgrade to the tune of about $800. He said to trim the tree way back or the city would give them trouble with the paperwork. I told him I'd be willing to have a slightly smaller system in order to accommodate the oak. He asked me if I was serious. As I mentally struck his company from consideration, he went on about an "aesthetic" installation, again contingent upon a trimmed tree. Then he pitched the idea of having the entire array mounted on a huge metal pole in the backyard.

Dream Grrl was the last contractor to come out, thus named because both my boys followed her like hypnotized puppies. Hurricanehead trotted after her with both hands full of plastic hammers and screwdrivers, muttering, "tools, tools," and calling her by name. Rocketboy got into a discussion with her about undersea tunnels and the "Extreme Engineering" TV series they both enjoy. It's funny to watch your kids swoon.

DG arrived with a bid, portfolio and references ready to go. She worked the numbers with me, figuring out how many kilowatt-hours the system would produce and what percentage of my monthly total that would be.

She also recommended other steps I could take: first, an in-person energy audit, which would cost nothing and might find areas where we could conserve more even though we are already at the very low end of usage for a home our size in this area. Conservation, DG said, is always cheaper than production.

Second, solar attic fans instead of turbine vents. They can reduce the attic temperature by about 30 degrees F. She said this could save almost as much electricity as PV system would generate, for about $1700 -- a fraction of what a PV system costs.

Third, a solar water heater, because traditional tank heaters waste energy heating the same pile of water over and over again. Solar water costs around $4000 in these parts, or so I've been told.

Then there's PV, which is only feasible because of the city rebate and the federal tax credit. With them, PV will cost us between $6300 and $8900, depending on what size system and which company we choose. Without the credit and rebate, we'd be looking at $18,600 to $22,300, and it wouldn't happen.

In the short run and in strictly financial terms, PV is not especially cost-effective, even with the incentives. By my half-assed calculations, based on the assumption that our electricity costs will not increase (ha!) our PV system will take about 25 years to pay for itself. Of course, if the cost of electricity shoots up or climbs steadily --highly likely-- PV will be a better deal. Still, I was beginning to think, We're on the grid. Why are we considering this?

But what doesn't appear on your utility bill or in your checkbook is the environmental cost of your power: carbon dioxide, carbon monoxide, lead compounds and a host of other byproducts spewed skyward so you can reheat pizza and rock those Manilow tunes. For that information, tailored to your power use and your state, look here.

According to the Abraxas calculator, my house -- which I've caulked to the rafters, festooned with compact-fluorescent lights and riddled with power strips so I can shut down the 'standby' feature on most of our electronics -- is responsible for ten tons of carbon dioxide emissions each year. Adding PV would cut that by a third. Adding solar attic fans and solar water heating too would cut it in half or more. Same with mercury and lead compounds and a host of other nasty things we don't want in our air and water but that are part of the transaction even though they don't show up on the bill.

Hombre says once you know something like that, it's just about a moral imperative to act on it if you can. I tend to agree. I wonder how many more people would look seriously at alternative energy sources if the emissions toll was printed on their bill each month along with the kilowatts and the dollars.

Next step: Apply for a loan. Austin has a deal with a local credit union for PV loans at an allegedly decent rate. As always, I'll keep you posted.

A new day

Someone (she knows who she is) mentioned Marrit Ingman's blog to me a while back. If you're an Austin Chronicle reader, you may recognize Ingman's as the byline on film reviews featuring such phrases as "tragically obscured in a haze of boogie fog." Her take on politics, with a little help from her son, delights me:

It's so easy to feel powerless on a day like today. We got Samuel Alito confirmed. We're probably going to get the federal abortion ban upheld and Roe v. Wade challenged. We got a State of the Union address that tells us we're addicted to oil when what we really are is dependent by design. Exxon posts record profits--$10 billion--this quarter, and our elected officials cash in. (We'll have those zero-emission hydrogen cars just as soon as the power elite figures out how to exploit that technology on the stock market.) We're continuing to expend our service people (and, it seems, our journalists) on American realpolitik. We will never surrender to evil, which assumes that we are ourselves not evil, when in fact we're very capable of being the World's Biggest Assholes. Wendy Wasserstein and Coretta Scott King are dead. Kenneth Lay and Jeffrey Skilling are going to skate.

Meanwhile, my son has an important announcement. There is an eighth day of the week now. It is named "Charon," like Pluto's moon and the ferryman of the dead. Now that we have one more day a week, we can start fighting back against all this crap.

You might also enjoy her sex advice. Have a great Charon. Fight the power and we'll see you back here Monday.

New and improved

I've just been tipped off to one of our most important neighbors to the north-- The Reaction, based in Toronto. Michael Stickings and company take on politics Canadian and American in a tone that provokes the thought without inflaming the bile. I like it.

Sidebars are updated. Enjoy. Time for me to go get a snootful of cedar pollen.

Spiked

Forty mile-per-hour winds + insanely high cedar pollen levels = house full of gloppy rednecks strung out on prescription allergy meds. I'd hoped to shoot and post victory garden pics today but instead I refer you to Shakespeare's Sister on food as a class issue.

Have a good weekend. I should have the next installment in our quest for solar power up by Monday.

A glorious vision of what America could be

Starts with Neddie's reimagining of our national anthem:

"This Land Is Your Land" and "America the Beautiful" are frequently bruited about as suitable replacements for Francis Scott Key's convoluted yet bloodthirsty gabfest. I'm all for simplification, but why not simplify all the way? Instead of a lot of contentious hoo-ha about Endless Skyways or Purple Mountains' Majesty, why not eliminate lyrics altogether? Generations of grateful schoolchildren would thank us for freeing them from yet another empty set of words to recite.

And I don't know about you, but I simply adore the idea of a ballpark full of patriotic Americans standing as one body, doffing caps and covering hearts, as the loudspeaker intones, "Ladies and Gentlemen... Please rise for our Natural Anthem..." And what comes out of the public address as we all stand to attention? Thelonious Monk's "Straight, No Chaser."

Would that we lived in such an America. Happy Thursday to you.

Takin' it to the states

I had no idea that state legislatures could instigate federal impeachment proceedings but then I am a graduate of the Texas public school system.

Section 603 of the United States House Rules provides for the inception of impeachment proceedings in the House of Representatives “by charges transmitted from the legislature of a State.”

Section 603 states, inter alia:

”Inception of impeachment proceedings in the House.>> House of Representatives there are various methods of setting an impeachment in motion: by charges made on the floor on the responsibility of a Member or Delegate (II, 1303; III, 2342, 2400, 2469; VI, 525, 526, 528, 535, 536); by charges preferred by a memorial, which is usually referred to a committee for examination (III, 2364, 2491, 2494, 2496, 2499, 2515; VI, 543); or by a resolution dropped in the hopper by a Member and referred to a committee (Apr. 15, 1970, p. 11941-42; Oct. 23, 1973, p. 34873); by a message from the President (III, 2294, 2319; VI, 498); by charges transmitted from the legislature of a State (III, 2469) or Territory (III, 2487) or from a grand jury (III, 2488); or from facts developed and reported by an investigating committee of the House (III, 2399, 2444).”

"A State." I like the sound of that. Not a majority of states or anything crazy like that. Just one. The Bulldog Manifesto has a form letter and contact info for those of you who live in one of the likely states. (Hint: They're not Texas.)