Thursday, June 24, 2010


Donovan to Altidore to Dempsey for the shot - blocked! - then the rebound off the goalie back out to Donovan who zings it right into the back of the net.  The Algerians were sad, the Americans were euphoric.  No matter what happens now, they have made it out of the Group Round in the World Cup for the first time since 1930. And that is something to celebrate.  TBG and I put on our American flag clothes and hung the flag outside.

McChrystal is out and Petreus is in and the war goes on and on.

It's obvious to everyone that McChrstal was out of line;  I've not heard anyone defending him, on tv, radio or in the papers.  I have to think that Michael Hastings is a hell of a reporter, and probably somewhat of a chameleon, too.  Stuck in Europe with the general and his henchmen, involuntary companions as Eyjafjallajokull spewed ash into the skies,  I'm sure they did all the manly man things I see in the movies, and they probably bonded the way Spencer Tracey and Clark Gable and Alan Hale did in the 1940's war films which TCM has been featuring this month.  And then Hastings went home and reported what he'd heard and seen.  Just as a reporter is supposed to do (sorry, Nance,  I do think he should have published his article).  The mistake was the general's, for allowing access where prudence would have dictated otherwise, certainly, but more for fostering an atmosphere where such disrespect could be displayed openly.  

Whether you are in the military or a school district or private enterprise, it's always bad form to cast aspersions up the food chain in a public forum... especially, in this case, when the superiors outrank just about everyone else on the planet.  
Princess Myrtle is packing up to leave Cairo, where, she complains, the temperatures are a balmy 103o.  My little brother reported mid-90's in Maryland, with 95% humidity.  I'm wondering if either of them has burned a body part while trying to load groceries into the trunk as their feet melted into the blacktop of the parking lot?

With only the solar power heater, our pool is up to 95o; we are boiling. Literally.
Have you noticed the ads running under the Blogher banner to the right of my posts?  Blogher is an interesting community of writers, mostly women, mostly, it seems, mommies or wanna-be-mommies or used-to-be-mommies.  There are promotions and a website and syndications and ads.

When I first created The Burrow, TBG wondered how long this hobby would last.  I'd started and stopped several other great ideas over the 40 years he's known me; there was no reason to assume that this would be any different.    Somehow, I've continued to write, publishing every weekday at 6am, and on Monday I received my reward.  Blogher sent me my share of the ad revenues they have collected.  A paper check arrived in the mail, with detailed descriptions of the amounts I've earned each month since I signed up with them in October.  

$14.62 may not seem like much, but to me, it is everything.  The total is not the point; the fact that I've earned money for feeding my passion is.  I love your comments and feel nurtured by them, but this is actual, coin of the realm, external validation of the fact that I exist on the grid.

Am I a greedy, money-grubbing, materialistic cad?  Probably.  But I'm busting my buttons with pride, right now.  Someone is paying me to do this.  Unbelievable. 


  1. (I have copied this comment from 6/23/10's post where Nance was forced to leave her comment since I broke the widget on this post. It's repaired, and here she is. a/b)

    I have to put my comment on Thursday's post here, because the Comment Widget is not turned on for Thursday. Won't read right, though.

    On Michael Hastings, let me say that everyone in the entire blogonet has disagreed with me on him. Only one exception and I've now officially fallen in love with this dude even though I don't know him from Adam's off ox. Elsewhere, including right here at The Burrow, I'm practicing my diaphragmatic breathing and mouthing the mantra, "You could be right. You could be right." That sort of thing is good for me. Over on The Swash Zone, where I cross-post, I got into a multi-comment disagreement with one of the other contributors over my position. I had to back off in order to have any time left in my day. Nobody's taken anything I think or say seriously enough to keep arguing with me since the day I retired. Ain't the blogging world just stupendous!?

    You got money? I want money! We've got a delayed mail issue on the Left Coast, since our mail is forwarded across the continent. Maybe I'll get some money too, eventually. I am so happy for you! I think I might know just how you feel. Fist-bump with a fireworks-blow-up, my friend!

  2. 1) The Big Cuter called to inform me that the USA has made it out of the first round twice since 1930. I was only copying what the tv screen told me. I knew I should have fact checked with the kid, first.

    2)Nance, the conversation on your post (it's linked above) is one of the best things about the internet. I still think the article should have been published - no one is saying it is an inaccurate portrait of the man, just that it's outrageous.

    What is also outrageous is that people are willing to pay us to do this! Double fist-bump with fireworks..... yay, grandson!

  3. Following up: I got money, too!! It came in yesterday's mail and I am officially, dangerously encouraged to blog on.

    Also, peeking at your music selections, I see K'eb Mo there. Tell TLC that my son knows him and does work for him on the digital integration of his recording studio in Nashville...was there just a week ago, actually. [For his growing up years, I introduced Marc to the best music I could find. Now, he introduces me to musicians I'd never otherwise encounter.]


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