Speaking of love monkey ... I do not endorse this link, but I think it's very funny!

The author of "Love Monkey" told me that I "had to" read his novel. I suspect all authors of books (and particularly those of books about to be rather successful) feel that way. Given the subject matter, I put this on my list of books to buy for cash at a real, live bookstore rather than through amazon.com. And I didn't get to it ... yet. Now that it's been adapted for tv, I suppose I'll have to read up to see what all the fuss is about.

OK. It was inevitable. I have written my first poem in years, my first love poem in recent memory. And, brace yourself, I'm going to inflict it on you: My heart is broken open wide.

Even as I type, I'm listening to a Web-based recording of the music from Queenship of Mary's lovely, prayerful Advent Evensong. It was a simple and dramatic evening of music and readings. I feel tremendously lucky (OK, blessed!) to be able to partake of fellowship with such talented and kind folks. If you're dying to hear what it was like, email me and I'll send you the file. It's not massive, but it'll take a minute or two to download.

I guess things weren't "flowing" as well as I was told by my now-former boss. My job search is officially on, and getting into full swing. Feel free to let me know if you know of someone who might benefit from having someone like me (link to follow) on their team.

The world is poorer for the loss of David L. Kurtz. I join his family, friends and admirers in grief at his passing. Mr. Kurtz was the father-in-law of a school chum of mine who is, herself, a beautiful soul. I was informed and educated more than a little bit by this obituary that appeared in The Philadelphia Inquirer. In recent years, I've developed a keener feel for the fact that writing obituaries well is a beautiful art. It mitigates our sorrow and chronicles our times.

Did I mention that Atlantic Highlands has a new Councilman-elect? Or how very proud I am of him???

Oh, yeah, and I'm always thrilled to receive another piece of my crystal!

All I want for Christmas ...

... a stockpile of peanut oil

... a bigger box for my first-aid kit & some standard band-aids

... time away with the one I love

... soap (Crabtree & Evelyn's rosewater soap with cold cream; any cocoa butter soap; Clinique facial soap, mild)

... a particular pair of carved jade earrings

... another special piece of jewelry (needn't be expensive)

... peace, love and understanding

... a Christmas list from all those who haven't been too naughty

I've been away from the keyboard for way too long. But I've been tired ... and a little busy. My most charming mother has a better outlook on life due to successful surgery for a cataract, and my employer says he's happy that things at my workplace seem to be chugging along well -- as he puts it, "flowing." I tend to agree.

I did head out and volunteer to help at the fall dinner at home in Montgomery County, and I couldn't imagine what I'd be asked to do! I actually learned something, and did a task I'd never dreamed of -- perhaps it was my first little foray into fundraising. Folks in the county leadership were smart enough to resurrect the idea of a a 50/50 drawing, and when I casually said: "Give me a job," the gals in charge did. They handed me the raffle tickets and a basket.

I felt like squealing about not knowing nothing about running no raffles and running the other way at breakneck speed, but somehow I didn't. I recruited another volunteer and we worked hard to raise a respectable, if not monumental, total. I'm not sure I want to characterize the work as 'fun' exactly, but it was a real change of pace, and it was, in some ways, a hoot. A big ol' slice of life. I'll only do it next year if I think I can significantly increase the take!

Meanwhile, I've been contributing to the care and feeding of a New Jersey municipal candidate. Literally. I made him the stew I had promised him a week before, and it was OK. With almost two pounds of meat in it, I was pleased that it was at least a little more than edible. I think I know what I can do to soften the meat naturally, and I'm going to try it on my own next batch. And he even used the ingredients I left him to make last night's dinner, too. I know he's fed for tonight and has leftovers to last him through Thursday.

This is a guy who's fed himself successfully -- by himself -- for over 40 years!

Speaking of my favorite candidate in my favorite town -- my favorite guy, really, he's still working hard. And he seems to be largely enjoying it. I'll still say that Election Night can't come soon enough, as far as I'm concerned.

One ... more ... week!

Peter'll work hard, God willing, as a council member, but it's time to move from one challenge to another. So in you can vote in Atlantic Highlands vote early, but not often. One person, one vote to the best candidate!

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Oh, and I have one word for the person who suggested that I blog directly on relationships: No.

I abridge my own privacy enough by posting core dumps here. I try not to speak too directly of the people in my life. I hesitated to post the details of my darling mother's surgery, and I wrote nothing until I knew she was happy with the results. I mentioned Pete's candidacy only after it was public knowledge. I will admit that I do, both in public and private, revel in how well he's running his campaign.

But I have no real desire to try to get cute in discussing my friends, family and those in my life who insist upon defying classification. At this point, I'd just as soon post their Social Security numbers as describe the details of their interactions with me.

I've only recently come into contact with anyone over the age of 21 who jealously protected his privacy. Maybe it's a consequence of having lived in the self-promoting world of local and national media for the biggest chunk of my life. Breasting my cards isn't really my own style, although I do not reveal as much about myself as it may sometimes appear. I strive to be comfortable in public and to conduct my private life in a way that would stand up to scrutiny. Again, I'm not always perfect in that.

I do, however, respect those who guard their privacy, and I strongly defend their right to do it. Sunshine is a necessary disinfectant in public life, but individuals have the right to lives without unneccessary intrusion. Some things that happen behind closed doors are even good and proper in their privacy. And that's the way it should be, unless there's something in one's life that needs to see the light of day.

So, unless I find some overriding public interest in airing my laundry in public, I think I'll keep washing and drying it privately.

Broken promises and hopeful signs: I told a friend I'd only blog this if I finished my library book, which is due (after a long wait to get it & one renewal) tomorrow. I reneged. I had to get in the last GOP event I attended before I try to help out at another one. Jim Saring made sure to pass on an invitation to magisterial district judge candidate Oscar Vance's meet, eat & greet event at the Glenside VFW. It was a chatty, fun event, and I was glad to get a chance to meet the candidate and some members of his quite impressive family. As I mentioned to a family friend, it will be gratifying to see Montgomery County's chief of detectives get the support he deserves. I have no doubt that wise minds in the local GOP will rally behind this smart, hard-working guy, and I'm certain he will woo Democrats to support him, too. I was delighted to see Jon Fox there and more charming than ever. He remains the patron saint of grassroots politics and everyone's favorite adopted uncle. The GOP social/election season continues full swing with a candidates' breakfast and a Monte Carlo night on the horizon and the county Republican committee's fall dinner on tap for this evening. The dinner is being held at Westover Golf Club, famous for among other things its owners (baseball great Mike Piazza's family) and the regular Friday night dinner my family has attended for over 25 years. This year's speaker is the co-chairman of the RNC, Jo Ann Davidson. On my calendar for next week, the biggest "todo" has to be the reception for gubernatorial candidate Lynn Swann Tuesday evening. Yes, all the candidates are expected at the fall dinner this evening. But this moderately-priced event will showcase two guys who deserve some attention: Swann and Vance. I've heard of some people I know asking the former wide receiver some interesting questions like: "Why are you a Republican?" My instinct is to like Swann a lot, and to be open to what both he and the rest of the field have to say. The goal in the gubernatorial race is twofold: Choose the best candidate for the GOP and then get that man elected. I'm behind a successful campaign that sees both of those goals met, and that means a fair fight followed by party unity. Speaking of campaigns in progress, I just have to post an update on my absolutely favorite candidate: He's been working hard in Monmouth County; his signs are out, about & sharp looking, and somebody shared some polling data with him that is not displeasing. Or so I heard.

I have known Atlantic Highlands Borough Council candidate Peter Doyle for some time, and I have at least as many positive things to say about him as I do the marvelous borough he calls home. He and I met at a Republican campaign function. The event was, incidentally, not a fund-raiser. It was held on Veterans Day, and, as a result, I have often thought that I have Pete’s strong military career to credit for bringing him into the circle of folks dearest to me. One of his siblings, also an active Republican, extended the invitation to him. Nearly five years after meeting him, I am still glad he decided to take her up on it. I am proud to have Pete’s friendship and devotion. I am, of course, also glad he has been brave or foolish enough to run for municipal office -- and I’m glad he represents the party I’ve come to see as the logical forum for bright young people who aspire to serve their communities. Anyone would be fortunate to know Pete. He charms people with his quiet, steady style, and it’s not just window dressing. He has stood by me through difficult personal events, not the least of which happened on September 11, 2001. Most families who were directly affected by the events of that awful day must be weary of -- and not inured to -- lesser stories of that adversity, so I’ll spare you the details. But Peter, who is by nature a fairly private person, was willing to open his home to a slightly estranged friend, no questions asked. He was emotionally supportive and accommodating at a time when many people, no doubt himself included, had faced some of the worst circumstances of their lives. He acted bravely on that September 11, and he has acted with consistent kindness ever since. I have always known him to make time in his schedule to live by his principals. He has always shown a tremendous devotion to family and friends, and he has never forgotten his roots or his responsibility to his fellow man. I have never seen him shirk a responsibility, and he is steadfast and loyal, almost to a fault. I have occasionally waxed eloquent about my own family’s record of public service: I boast about my sisters who are respectively a school nurse and counselor and a teacher. I am equally proud of our homemakers, family men and entrepreneurs. But I am perhaps proudest of my father, who had the guts and tenacity to serve as an elected official in the township where I was raised. He also was a Republican, although I know he always thought he worked more to help the area and not to gain power or practice partisan politics. I am proud of anyone who puts a hometown, borough or township ahead of themselves and wants to invest his or her personal resources to benefit the community. Pete has been fortunate enough to hear some of the great statesmen of our country speak, and he has been exposed to leaders in government at practically all levels. I know what he’s seen and heard in his military career, his private career on Wall Street and his fledgling involvement in the world of elective politics have made a strong impression on him, and I know that he wants to make his own corner of the world a better place. His family and his schooling instilled him with high ideals, and he has worked hard to live up to them. I have great faith that Atlantic Highlands will be a richer community, in all the best senses of that phrase, if it has someone like Pete watching out for it. And those who take the time to talk to him may find that they are enriched by knowing him.

OK. Enough with the spam comments. I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to turn word verification on. I am, however, quite open to legitimate comments.

I'm sending this out as a bit of a mash note to our embattled head of government ... from a chick who graduated from a United Methodist-founded college by the skin of her teeth. Also, I'd recommend the Christian Science Monitor's well-reasoned and fairly even-handed reporting on Harriet Miers.

More social column-type stuff, without the boldface names or photos -- and as always with an attempt to always be pleasant and good: My dear, dear friend had his Meet the Candidates brunch today. It was good; he was good, the food was even good. The view, as usual in his area of the world, was terrific. What a beautiful day! I didn't run into anyone who didn't seem interested and there was an acceptably reasonable level of earnestness. (I realize I often have to tone myself down in that department from time to time.) In short, everyone there seemed nice and everybody I saw seemed to have a good time. What more could you ask for at Sunday brunch? We even got to go across the street, check out a cool car show & pet some beautiful pooches. Speaking of nice people who had a good time, I finally managed to get to Penna. State Sen. Rob Wonderling's annual outdoor funfest this year. It was worth the wait. I failed in my attempt to drag my superlatively wonderful mother to the event, which is a picnic plus plus plus called Wonderwing. Apparently there were about eighteen hundred people there this year. I helped some of them find their parking lot or parking space. I also helped myself to three buffalo wings (two mild, one spicy), some celery & bleu cheese, one cheeseburger, one hot dog and a couple of sodas and waters. Hey, it was a good looong event ... There was also spin art (remember that?) and somebody gave me two gourds which will constitute my entire Halloween decoration effort. I put in one single chance on one of many groupings of cool sports trading cards. I didn't win, but it was great to see some very happy looking people who won everything from baskets of Pennsylania wine to kids art baskets to an autographed football ... to gift certificates for a ride on an airplane and handfuls or gift certificates for massage therapy. My kingdom for a handful of raffle tickets or a blank check for auction items! A big crew of my Eastern Montgomery County cohorts were there, both having fun & volunteering. Wonderling's staff and supporters seem fairly universally smart, hard-working, fun and interesting. Again, waiting a couple of years to get my butt to this bash at Spring Mount (2005 was the 4th annual) seems silly to me in retrospect. But better way late than never, for sure. I'm headed back to work tomorrow after my flu/bronchitis/battle with exhaustion/really nasty ick/whatever my doctors want to call it. I'm grabbing a nice long nap before I face the rest of this fabulously beautiful day.

Tears on the Pulpit

This is not about the facts -- it's just about my feelings: I've done only a little reading about the scandal involving priests who are alleged to have been pedophiles in the Philadelphia area. Just some print coverage over the weekend (including "the list") and a browsing of the news indexed on the Web. But I'm a Catholic who grew up in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, and I have an evolving point of view.

I feel sorrow and shame for the priests who have attacked and molested children, to be sure. Also anger and pity. I am appalled that children, who are supposed to be worth just as much as -- if not more than -- adults in the Church's stated values system, were allowed to remain at the mercy of those who would do them harm. A culture of respect for life does not just mean helping fetuses set foot on this planet and keeping old folks safe from those who would pull the plug on them for the sake of convenience. And, yes, I ache for the families that were victimized by these apparent crimes. Not only the obvious victims: the targeted children, their immediate families and possibly their progeny. But also the families of those who were too troubled or sick to restrain themselves from attacking the most vulnerable among our population.

But as utterly repulsed as I am by their choices and their behavior, I am -- though my anger -- able to feel pity, compassion and concern for those accused of committing what are without a doubt egregious wrongs. The ramifications of their sins and crimes will never be completely known, and I pray that they'll be able to live healthy lives at some point.

Almost all of those involved as victims or perpetrators are fellow Church members of mine. As a result I bear part of the shame though I have never been molested by priest or religious and, as far as I know, have never known anyone who has been either a molester or victim.

I am ashamed, I am disgusted and I am rocked to my core. This crisis will change the Church -- and I don't just mean the Church will see less money come in in the form of donations, although that certainly will be the case. I, for example, was extremely reluctant to donate when I was a divorced Catholic, as I began to work through my feelings on the permanence of marriage. No small number of Catholics are certainly starting to muster their indignance and vitriol to justify reducing or eliminating their regular contributions to the Roman Catholic Church.

Yet I don't know how I thought my church -- or any religion or region -- would be immune to this kind of aberrant behavior. People are human, and they sometimes act in a manner that seems subhuman. I had hoped for better, and I feel like a fool.

I was up North when the story came to light about the Christian Brothers molesting youths. Now if I hear that someone I know went to any sort of Christian Brothers school, I must admit my gut instinct is to try to approach them with a sort of tender what-did-they-do-to-you-and-how-can-I-help attitude. That isn't the way it should be.

I used to have priest friends, had the pleasure of occasionally stopping up to the rectory for a sweet, even traveling with a member of the clergy or sharing a meal. Should people automatically think that I may have been a victim? I was not, and I don't like having to look at my Church that way.

I am trying to maintain faith in Church leaders and role models, from priests, religious and deacons to those who have achieved a position of greater authority in the hierarchy of the Church. It made me very sad to hear that at least two priests in my home parish in Pennsylvania cried as they discussed recent events during Sunday Mass this past week: Yet tears are not an inappropriate response from anyone who loves the Church and its people and anyone who loves God and seeks what is right in this world. As a Catholic -- and as an admittedly flawed human -- I want to be part of a productive dialogue and process that sees the church achieve more holiness and compassion for all, not less. And I, though I am lazy sometimes, want to be holier and to do the right thing. None of that is easy. In fact, I hesitate to post my thoughts here, because I don't want them taken out of context, and I don't want to needlessly inflame a very emotional issue.

Many years ago, I made a decision as a teenager to stay within my Church even as I questioned some of its theology. Those adolescent questions seem so insignificant as to be trivial now. I reaffirmed my decision to be a Catholic when I was a young adult. I do not expect to be outside my chosen faith, but I no longer expect my Church to turn like the giant ship of state I thought it was when I was much younger. I expect the impossible because this religion does, at this point in history, need to turn on a dime.

I was getting pretty preachy recently in my Gracie Manion/ADA posting, I thought. At the risk of sermonizing again, though, I would like to share my thoughts -- and my evening prayer -- with you tonight. I hope anybody who might happen to read this might take these words for what they're worth, and I hope they do someone some good: Lord who knows all things please try to understand me, and please help me try to know myself better, too. I suppose understanding you completely is supposed to come somewhat later.

I've never blogged about someone while sitting next to them. Until now.

The allegedly superlative man is a declared candidate for local public office, and he has told me privately that he wants to win.

Of course he does. I always feel that one should never enter a lottery like the ballot box unless they'd welcome the winning result. He has begun some, apparently smart and consistent, knocking on doors. He has gone to exactly one fund-raiser for a local nonprofit group that achieves public service. More will no doubt follow. I hope they're all at least as enjoyable as the one at Memphis Pigout.

Speaking of which, he and his running mate will be having a party to celebrate the launching of their campaign -- at the Ocean Club on the Atlantic Highlands Harbor, on October 2.

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On another topic: I hope to at least eke out at some point the post I briefly discussed with to you. You know, the one about how one of my main hopes these days is to become less cynical and no less wise?

Two Anniversaries to Remember

Gotta play catch-up: Two blogworthy events happened recently, and it's taken a little bout with the flu for me to have much time to say anything about them. I'll put them both under the category of difficult, but beautiful.

I was lucky enough to catch up with one of the city's hardest working men about town, Brian Andersson. And I was also lucky enough to be invited to an event celebrating the 15th anniversary of the ADA at Gracie Mansion back on August 16. Talk about inspirations! Not only is Brian running everywhere and doing everything, it seems, all at one time, but a more than significant portion of those in attendance had physical issues obvious enough to be recognized upon meeting them. And many of the folks at the event seemed to have transcended those issues completely enough that they made someone like me look as if I were standing still. It was a humbling experience, to say the least.

Brian himself pointed out what might have seemed to have been a blog-snub of the event after checking out my site. I beg a little indulgence because of the daunting nature of the considerable folks I met that evening. Some things take a little longer than others to seep through one's consciousness. My apologies to my most gracious hosts!

Speaking of daunting, I also recently attended the dedication of my home county's September 11 memorial, which was unveiled just in time to commemorate the 4th anniversary of the terrorist attacks in New York, Washington and over the skies of Pennsylvania. I took a day off without pay. I hitched a ride with some nice strangers (don't ask -- but I can give you the name of an excellent quick lunch place in Montco that delivers!) In all ways, I basically moved heaven and earth to be there, just barely on time.

I was afraid I'd have to hold my tongue about the artistry or the appropriateness of the memorial, which incorporates a 1,200-pound steel beam from the Lower Manhattan site. But, while the statue is not a traditionally uplifting, feel good memorial, I must say I liked it much more than I thought I might.

It depicts a pair of rough, hard-working hands cradling the ragged beam in an almost prayerlike gesture. It's a challenging statue. When I heard its creator, Sassona Norton, speak about the relationship she developed with the twisted metal she inherited for a time after being commissioned I began to wonder a bit about the wholesomeness of the its message. But, as difficult as the piece may be and as bizarre an undertaking the artist undertook -- to live with the remains of such a storied attack -- I can still say the piece was well-conceived, well-intentioned and that it has something positive to say about the attacks and their aftermath.

For someone who had to look at remnants of the site and smell the smells of the charred earth and worse, the statue's not easy to look at. But not everything difficult is bad.

Don't take my word for it. The statue sits at the Swede St. entrance to the courthouse in Norristown, Pa. Go there and make up your own mind.

Update: I'm told that the peaceniks mentioned in my previous post have stepped their efforts against the Grand Old Party. Apparently unsatisfied with the impact they've had using their constitutionally-protected avenues, they've taken to breaking the law. I'm told they fraudulently represented themselves to federal authorities to have enlistment material sent to at least one YR officer. Is *this* what is passing for intelligent discourse these days?

"Jaundiced pachyderm" alert: It's taken me a little while to find time to bash out a blog entry on this, but a few things need to be said. A particular anti-war group that's been active at colleges and universities has targeted an organization that's near and dear to my heart: the Montgomery County (Pa.) Young Republicans. Seems a tiny stampede of protesters want all their left of center buddies to spam the volunteer board members of this organization to "encourage" them to enlist. Fine. It would seem that freedom of speech allows these e-warriors to do things that might degrade troop morale or undermine the work of the federal government. And I'm all about the First Amendment. I'm also a big supporter of anyone on the YR board who might want to enlist. Why, it seems like it was just last year that the YRs had to find another volunteer to replace a board member who was headed off to active duty in Iraq. Others in the Montco crowd have done their duty by this country. The chairman of neighboring Chester County also serves, as a Marine reservist. And a Bucks County YR apparently just signed on as a Ranger. Seems the activists' theory that Republicans are afraid of the consequences of "their" war falls short. Hmmmmm ... maybe these glib peaceniks ought to put their money where their mouths are and try some fearless action themselves. They might enjoy a working vacation: I’m sure they could hit up Sean Penn for a job on his film crew on his next visit to Iraq. Or maybe they’re more the "human shield" type. Maybe they'd even consider showing some true compassion and heading over to the war zone as aid workers to help rebuild that strife-ridden country. Who knows? It might it be a better way for them to spend their time than sniping at engaged, active young adults who are trying to do something positive for their communities.

P.S. I almost adventured into another cat. Repeat: I not want a cat. My somewhat-significant other is even allergic to them, I've found. This feline escapade got far enough that I had concurred with my neighbor on an fine name for this dark grey suck-up of a cat. We settled on Church, after a cat in that horrid Stephen King novel and, thus, Sir Winston Churchill. The damned cat would probably have followed me all the way to the pool if I hadn't stopped him. But I am fully convinced that he must have a home. Even if he does need a brushing and a collar.

The Sweetest Man says he isn't. Hmmmm. Furthermore, he doesn't believe in superlatives.

Seven days off from work. As usual, I visited the homestead in Pennsylvania and the sweetest man in New Jersey (who is running for public office, I do believe). I shopped until I dropped, and actually kinda enjoyed it. I discovered a cool new beach at Sandy Hook and sat solo in a [gasp!] bikini, reading and watching some glorious sunsets. I cooked -- oh, how I cooked! I enjoyed the company of old friends in PA, and had some fun dinners out in both states. Sadly, I also attended the funeral of my marvelous old friend, Bert. He will be missed by many. He outlived a woman who has always sounded like his ideal wife and a dear, dear woman whom he lucky enough to meet after her death. His longtime girlfriend was a remarkable woman, a dedicated journalist and a friend of mine, too. I should be so lucky as to live as good, stimulating and full a life as either of them. Remarkably, I was sort of happy to head back to work. Is it possible that I really like my job? One thing's for sure: As much as I was ready to return to the office, I did not want to leave Atlantic Highlands.

By the way, not to diminish the hopeful tone of the that previous post, but here's an update on O'Neill. One of the larger problems of her troubled kitty adolescence was her desire to run (particularly before she was spayed). After more than four cat recovery mission with the help of neighbors, I decided that (A) I loved her and (B) I was gonna set her free. I did not see myself spending the next ten or so years chasing a cat who desperately wanted to be outside. She has not come back to me. I'm thinking she won't, and I'm hoping she's OK.

The most atrociously cliched images of the sky used to -- and still do -- make me think of God and feel glad that He exists. You know, the rays of sunlight streaking through the edges of clouds. Glory and magesty, raw beauty. Particularly over the ocean. But last night I saw the most beautiful night sky that made me feel the same thing, only deeper. I was listening to a song I'd never heard before, and I can't remember much about it, just that it touched me and that it was raw and sweet. I looked up at the sky, thinking I must be near a city, because there was a light dome I had never noticed before. Only it was brighter than that and it wasn't tied to the ground. The moon was trapped behind clouds, and it shone through a dark sky like a spotlight in the fog. It was just this incredible, strong hidden light -- like a beacon. I've never seen anything like it before, but I certainly hope I see it again. Beautiful.

No more posts (lame or otherwise) until my new four-legged houseguest starts behaving. She's a bit of a distractation, to say the least. Naughty, naughty kitty.

Pennsylvania's primary election is May 17. Here's what Montgomery County has to look forward to. If you're on the East side of the Delaware River, your primary's on June 7. Big-ticket decisions have to be made both in PA and NJ. Please, please -- especially if you're Republican and have a little bit of grey matter to toss around -- get involved and get out and vote. The general election will be tough enough: We need the best possible candidates standing for us, and good people willing to back them up.

I recently described this Web log to a friend (I rarely speak of it at all) as a housewife-type blog. That is emphatically not an insult to housewives, by the way. This was to someone who seems to perennially expect great things -- or at least something substantial -- from me. I described it as I did because I didn't want this person coming here expecting up-to-the minute news analysis, investigative reporting or, frankly, any real pot-stirring or muckraking. Blogs are an inherently personal medium, and reading them is still a chancy enterprise. There are bloggers who intentionally put out nastiness and bloggers who put out what purports to be news with a much, much more obvious bias than the mainstream media has ever shown my still relatively tender eyes and ears. I do not intend to be either nasty or invisibly biased. I certainly have a point of view, but, in truth, I'm writing something akin to a journal with the awareness that others could chance upon it. Now that this person has dragged out of me the fact that I still occasionally write, I suppose a few people may occasionally read me on purpose. And that's fine, but this darned thing is still just a place to catch my impressions and string together a few thoughts. If you like it, too, well ... great. Now I'm just going to settle back down into this mercifully peaceful Central Pennsylvania household, and prepare for a good, long day of touring the commonwealth to celebrate the mothers in my family.

Bla, bla, blog! Well, I did find some time away from work this week: for a quasipolitical event. The Montgomery County (Pa.) Young Republicans has moved its meeting night to one that's possible for me to attend. And thus, to celebrate the event and ensure I could be there without fail, I left my job a bit early. [cue the celestial music ... ] But the great leisure of time away from work being what it is, I ended up picking up some free wood by the side of the road (and having a great Terry Schiavo chat with the chap who was offloading it) and expanding other tasks to more than fill my so-called free time. I was [gasp!] slightly late for the meeting. Nonetheless, it was outstanding. The scheduled speaker, a congressman who will want some grassroots help in his reelection efforts for his third term, sent his community outreach fellow in his stead. But, God willing, he'll still get the help he needs. And many of the same old gang are there. Plus, the new GOP crop looks promising: The key is to give them something to do and keep them busy. And keep them coming in. It doesn't hurt if they have a beer or a Pepsi in their hand, and somebody standing next to them who has something interesting to say, either. That's what kept me going to meetings even when the speakers were occasionally quite dry. On an entirely unrelated and absolutely personal note, I have been given a cat. I never said I wanted a cat. I did say I would take this one, but I honestly never expressed a desire for one. I do, however, think that both my dog and I will make it through this difficult transitional period with grace and style. Vaughn and I will keep her. She's a calico: white, ginger and black. Her name is O'Neill for (Are you sitting down?) both Paul O'Neills, Thomas P. "Tip" O'Neill, Jr. and Neal Peart. And Patricia Neal, too, I guess. But she's becoming known as Neala, and I think she likes it as well as any creature likes a name. Incidentally, Vaughn, my Dalmatian, was named for Sarah and Stevie Ray. And sometimes I fib and say he was also named for Mo. I'll post photos of the beasts if I ever stop being too lazy to look into photo hosting.

Uh ... er ... yes, vacations. I remember them. Fondly. That particular one found me on a beach, in the woods, by a lake, on a farm, in a couple of cities and at a few good parties. And on the road for a very long time. I may be able to dredge up some photos before my next few days off. Since then, no one has paid me for leisure time. I've taken some days off to help out on political events and campaigns, and I've mightily enjoyed them. I'm planning to do very little but enjoy myself on the July 4th (and Canada Day!) weekend -- and I may extend that into a proper little vacation. What a little drudge I've become! All work and no play may make me an ideal employee, but I'm afraid it may also make me a very dull person to read.