Surprise, Dismay, + Miss Kitty

What do we think about this ceasefire? Do we take it as sincere, since both sides took every opportunity they could right up until the last second, to kill as many people as they could? Oh, and also, I guess they are still allowed to shoot back if someone shoots at them. I'm sure that definition of ceasefire is in the newer version of the dictionary--my hopelessly outdated edition defines it as "suspension of hostile activities." One of the best things I've heard is that Hezbollah is going to rebuild Lebanon, with the help of their major funder, Iran. Groovy.

Oh, and this quote, which could probably come out of the mouth of anyone on the receiving end of a "war on terror:"

"... what right does Bush have to make us live like this? ... By what right did he bomb us? ... Bush says he likes democracy and human rights; where is democracy now?” Before, he said, he hated Israel a little, but “now I truly hate it and want to cancel its existence.”

That's from the NY Times by the way.

In an interesting twist, I am now reading the 9/11 Commission Report. It was at Half Price Books, my favorite bookstore when the library is just not convenient, for $1. Information I could have lived my whole life without knowing, but now I know and must tell you: before crashing near Shanksville, PA, United 93 was turned upside down by the terrorist pilot. Hideous. Anyway, one of the things the book sets out to do is to describe the conditions that led to such intense hatred of the United States that would spur an attack. Conditions that have definitely been improved by our gesture of goodwill toward the Muslim world, the war on terror that was supposed to be in Afghanistan, but accidentally fell into another country.

I am a little surprised and somewhat dismayed to hear that Kate Hudson and Chris Robinson are splitting up. I sort of thought they'd do a dippy Goldie and Kurt thing for their rest of their lives. Is there a nanny lurking around that we don't know about yet? The age difference? The reps aren't saying a thing. What's the word out there?

And finally I would like to pay homage to my little chronically ill kitty. Post stroke and on so many medications she begins to resemble an old Jewish man in Boca, life has not been easy for MK. But since she is a cat with a walnut-sized brain, she still tries to do things like walk on the edge of the full bathtub, which she did this morning, and then of course fell in. This was after having a big post- stroke moment last night where she tries to walk but falls over a whole lot. She does not appear to be in any pain--she just falls over. Make no mistake, this won't stop her from attacking you for your dinner. She is just as likely to fall face first into your plate but either way, she'll get to it.

Mysteriously as those symptoms appear, they go away. The last time she went to the vet for said mysterious inability to walk, the vet noted she was very social and liked dog food. Did I need to pay $300 to figure that out? I lump it all under post stroke syndrome. In people, this can also manifest as forgetfulness or crankiness. Here's how it manifests in MK: One day, Honey and I come home. MK is lying on the floor on her side in the living room. Slightly odd, as she usually comes to the door to greet us. We walk over; she doesn't move but instead makes a slight kitty grimace and expels a large turd on the floor. Moments later, she seems fine, and can't figure out why we're hovering around her and not obediently dispensing Greenies as we've been taught.

Rant, Rave

Okay, so there is a lot I could be talking about today (morning after pill over the counter, interesting) but I need to vent about traffic. I work in San Francisco but I live in the East Bay (for those that don't know, this means I cross the Bay Bridge twice a day) so I have accepted that there will be some traffic in my life. I cope with it in the ways people do: talk on the phone, listen to NPR, sing along with the 80s station, occasionally scream and pound my fists on the steering wheel, this kind of thing.

Because I like logical explanations for problems, if the traffic seems unusually heavy, I always call 511, the CA Highway Patrol. With their groovy voice activated menu I can yell "traffic conditions!" "Bay Bridge!" "repeat that!" so I can find out what happened. They even tell you how fast traffic is moving and where the problem is, so you will know how much longer you must inch along.

So this evening coming home the traffic was terrible. I mean, awful. (If you're about to suggest taking public transportation, I'm going to stop you right there. It takes longer and costs more, which is the end of the discussion as far as I'm concerned. But if you need further reasons, while on a bus in graduate school a drunk man vomited on my head, which gives me a public transportation exemption for the rest of my life.) So I called 511 and discovered that there was a "disabled vehicle" near Treasure Island (again for those who don't know, an island in the Bay that the bridge spans across) that was causing a slowdown. Okay. This I can live with. But by the time I finally arrived at that place, there is no sign of a problem. No flares in the road. No car on the shoulder. No tow truck. Just more sluggish traffic, all the way to my front door.

If it takes me over an hour to go ten miles, I want to see something dramatic. Perhaps a car fire--not an overheated car, but honest to goodness flames shooting out of the automobile by at least 6 feet. Definitely emergency vehicles--ideally the "Heavy Rescue" truck would be on the scene. CHP would be diverting traffic. For sure someone should be busting out the jaws of life. And though loss of any human life is of course a tragedy, if I saw the Medical Examiner's van, well then I would settle right down. Because I would know it was something Big and it was Bad and I would thank my lucky stars that the worst thing I had to do was sit in this traffic because after all I talked to my Mom and I listened to a really interesting interview on NPR with an Israeli author whose name I can't remember and I even got to wail along with Heart singing "Magic Man" which is such an awesome song I forget that I'm hungry and have to pee.

But that didn't happen and I stayed crabby instead of becoming grateful to be alive and I guess since the universe wanted me to stop complaining, we just had an earthquake that actually shook my building. So there you have it! As it turns out I am grateful to be alive and not buried under a pile of rubble. Phew! Now I must go and check the USGS website.