"Americans live their lives more as people that are just a little bit late for something they have to do."

The world according to Jon Stewart. (From his closing comments.) And now I'll shut up about the rally.

We hear every damned day about how fragile our country is, on the brink of catastrophe, torn by polarizing hate, and how it's a shame that we can't work together to get things done. The truth is, we do! We work together to get things done every damned day! ...
Most Americans don't live their lives solely as Democrats, Republicans, liberals or conservatives. Americans live their lives more as people that are just a little bit late for something they have to do. Often something they do not want to do! But they do it. Impossible things, every day, that are only made possible through the little, reasonable compromises we all make.

(With footage of lanes of slow-moving traffic playing on screens behind him, Stewart went on to build a metaphor based on the traffic merger at the Lincoln Tunnel between New York and New Jersey.)

Look on the screen. This is where we are, this is who we are. These cars. That's a schoolteacher who probably think his taxes are too high, he's going to work. There's another car, a woman with two small kids, can't really think about anything else right now... A lady's in the NRA, loves Oprah. There's another car, an investment banker, gay, also likes Oprah. Another car's a Latino carpenter; another car, a fundamentalist vacuum salesman. Atheist obstetrician. Mormon Jay-Z fan.

But this is us. Every one of the cars that you see is filled with individuals of strong belief, and principles they hold dear--often principles and beliefs in direct opposition to their fellow travelers'. And yet, these millions of cars must somehow find a way to squeeze, one by one, into a mile-long, 30-foot-wide tunnel, carved underneath a mighty river.

And they do it, concession by concession: you go, then I'll go. You go, then I'll go. You go, then I'll go. 'Oh my God--is that an NRA sticker on your car?' 'Is that an Obama sticker on your car?' It's okay--you go, then I go.

And sure, at some point, there will be a selfish jerk who zips up the shoulder, and cuts in at the last minute. But that individual is rare, and he is scorned, and he is not hired as an analyst!

Because we know, instinctively, as a people, that if we are to get through the darkness and back into the light, we have to work together. And the truth is there will always be darkness, and sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel isn't the promised land.

Sometimes, it's just New Jersey.

A few more shots from The Rally To Etc Etc

This area was off limits to today's Rally-goers. I guess because of lawn restoration needs? Look at all those rule-following people.

The Washington Mall lawn generates a lot of debate and passion and I think I understand two of the most basic sides ("the lawn is for the people to walk on whenever they want, it belongs to the people!" versus "the lawn needs to be restored occasionally or it will cease to be a lawn and then no one will be able to walk on 'it' because 'it' won't exist!"). Some people say Astroturf is the obvious answer. In early 2009, while haggling over the Stimulus Bill, Congress cut funds for lawn restoration. Oh well, something has to go. The nicest thing about this off-limits area was how accepting everyone seemed to be about it. I'm sure there must have been some security around the area to enforce the no-go zone but I didn't see any.

For a year or so I've had this idea for how to keep the lawn on The Mall in good shape. The Park Service could divide up The Mall into, oh say, 7' by 7' squares. They could insert inconspicuous markers in the ground to show the perimeter of each square. Citizens could then volunteer to adopt a square. They can stop by their squares once or twice a week -- during their lunch break for example, or while walking to The Metro, or on a weekend day -- to add some grass seed or fix divots, just generally making sure the turf is OK. The government would continue to mow the lawn. Why wouldn't that work? There are a lot of us retired people out there who would offer. I would.

Sanity Restored! Rally was grand even though I didn't hear a word and I never really saw the stage. But I'm so glad I went.

The top picture shows how close we could get. Buried deep near the right middle of the shot is Jon on the stage. At least I think it was Jon. My friend Susan and I got there a little before noon. But the crowds were so huge we never got even close to the jumbo-trons, much less the stage. And the speaker system wasn't powerful enough to reach those of us who only managed to be along the edges of the crowd. But the people were wonderful, the signs were great, the weather was perfect, and there was joy in the air. And now that I'm home and got to hear Jon's final remarks I'm pleased as can be that I was there.

My bees behaved badly on Thursday.

Everything looked just fine at the hive. But about 25 yards away, maybe less, a large group of bees decided to cling to the doorknob and brick wall at my basement door, which is at the bottom of a brick stairwell. I took this picture at about 1:30 or 2 PM. It was warm on Thursday and had been warm and humid for a few days so the bees were naturally out and about. But, as two beekeepers told me on the phone when I called them in a mini-panic ("they're swarming! they're swarming!), "don't worry, they're just bored." They have nothing to gather -- there's no nectar or pollen, they have nothing to do inside the hive -- they've made comb everywhere possible, it's warm enough to be outside so.... they had a party I guess. But why on my doorknob?! I know they don't understand what a doorknob is but it seems awfully mean-spirited of them. When I checked the hive a few days ago I found that the top two medium supers (I have four total) were full of either honey or sugar-water honey, which is good. I didn't examine the two lower hive boxes, but am assuming that all is well down there since there are lots of bees. I probably should have stopped feeding a few days or weeks ago but oh well. My advisors told me to stop feeding so that's it for 2010. Now it's all up to them to survive the winter with all that stored honey. I love them but I still don't know if I'm psychologically prepared to do this. Spring will tell! Or maybe late in the summer when I harvest my first honey. I hear it makes a huge mess.

Jon Stewart's observations about his rally, from an interview with Terry Gross.

GROSS: Now, are you nervous that all - that tens of thousands of people are going to leave their homes and travel long distance because you asked them to? And anytime there's this huge rally in the National Mall....

Mr. STEWART: I'm nervous about everything.

GROSS: It's like, worse than throwing a wedding or something. I mean, it's like...

Mr. STEWART: No, I'm nervous about traffic. I'm nervous about everything.
... I would like to see a bus that's just filled with Purell go down there.

George, my grand-nephew, leaping in front of the round barn near his house. Way up in the beautiful mountains of W. Maryland.

That's his house in the second picture. In the bottom picture you can see -- way way way in the background to the left of center --- one of the many wind mills that have popped up all along the tops of hills and mountains in this area.

Corner of Maryland Ave and 3rd St, just south of the Capitol building.

Possible meeting place for any readers who want join forces at the Jon Stewart rally on Saturday. It's hard to predict how efficient the subways will be that day. It seems to me that there could be a huge turnout for this. I'll be at that corner at noon and again at 1 PM. Hope to see some old friends and new friends there that day!

Frozen basil and olive oil cubes. For winter pesto.

Some blogger (I can't track back to find out who it was, dammit, but I'll find out eventually and give her credit) mentioned doing this with any basil that's still hanging around before the first frost. Some people call it pre-pesto. I chopped up basil with olive oil and put dollops in an ice cube tray. Then I froze the tray overnight, popped out the cubes, and froze a bag of them for use later.

Another online person recommends using them this way: finely mince garlic, add the basil/olive oil, and then work in cheese (what kind?), butter, and pine nuts.

We haven't had a frost yet but a low of 38 is predicted for tomorrow night so my remaining three basil plants may be gone soon.

Norah and Dad Kevin. October 15, 2010.

More about this visit soon.

My observant friend Stephanie handed me this little ad a few days ago. "Check out the website for Yaz birth control" she instructed me.

Stephanie and I worked together for a long time and during an excruciating 2-year period -- around 2000 to 2001 -- she listened to me complain constantly about The Choosing of the New Logo Adventure. We had a new Director and he wanted a New Look. I was, unfortunately, a cog in the wheel that had to work with the designers to come up with a New Look and then work with the Director who had very firm ideas about what kind of logo he wanted (ugly, apparently). So Steph knows I'm always interested in logo issues. Bottom picture shows the logo that resulted from The Choosing of the New Logo Adventure of 2001. Hideous then, hideous now. It's supposed to convey neurological research. But to most people it says "look at that guy's pointy little penis."

Socks for George, right off the needles.

Now George is a good friend. Half of the Margaret-George team. Love them both to death. But George hates blogs and it seems to me that he mentions this dislike/hatred quite often. So I'm sure he doesn't look at this blog and that's just fine. But it does make me feel odd to post his picture (well, a picture of my socks with him in the background) knowing how much he hates blogs. Would he be offended? Would he feel that I had invaded his privacy? And then these questions raise the related question of other friends and relatives who are put off by blogs. I worry about them. Should I shut down this operation because it's too intrusive? Too revealing? Too self-centered? Should I (can I?) block access to those who are unsettled by my blog? All rhetorical questions -- obviously -- because here I am blogging. As Anne (of The Complaint Department) says: that is all.

Another book I'll have to read so you don't have to.

Rally to Restore Sanity, Saturday, Oct 30, noon to 3 (??). In my hometown.

The Rally will be centered "at the east end of the National Mall, between 3rd Street and 7th Street, known as East Seaton Park and Henry Park."

I'm going down that way for lunch with friends in a week or so. When I do I'll go by the rally spot and find an easy-to-locate reference point as a meeting place for any bloggers who read this and are coming to town (Peggy). Maybe we could pick a time... 1:30 or so...that we'd gather at that point and say hello face to face.

I plan to go to the Rally (especially if my sister comes to town for the event). If she doesn't, I still plan to go but... I also know myself. I'm capable of staying at home if there's too much local babbling about how Metro will be overwhelmed, or how parking will be awful at Metro stations, or how counter-demonstrators will be around to make things ugly (maybe even my neighbor, whose house is shown here with that g-damn flag*** flying high). And now the guy on the other side of him has one flying. He's in the FBI I know. What does THAT mean? Nothing I guess. I am trying to not be bothered by these (the flags). But every time I see one of them my stomach drops a bit.

***10/13/10 update. I was referring specifically to the "Don't Tread on Me" flag, NOT to the American flag, which I love of course. Someone mentioned that I was not clear.

The "ing"s. In the past I vaguely knew that bee activities included foraging, guarding, nursing, and dancing.

But now that I'm up to my chin in bees I have to be aware of so many more "ing"s.

Drifting
Capping
Robbing
Bearding
Balling
Festooning
Dwindling
Absconding
Fanning
Ripping (I wrote this down but forgot what it means)
Washboarding
Swarming

Even though it's a natural and mostly healthy event, swarming is the "ing" I fear the most.

I don't know what to call the activity shown in this picture. I wondered if there might be a mouse or some other intruder under that pile of bees. I'll never know. I did see workers dragging out drones.

"Politics as a whole has a fairly degrading effect on my fiction drive."

Andrew Sullivan is the best. I don't always agree with his politics but he often leads me to interesting places.
He led me to this guy, Kevin Hartnett, who wrote the following:

All forms of desire have their natural enemies and I find that nothing saps my desire to read fiction like the Internet does. This is partly physiological—too much time at the computer withers my brain—but it’s partly dispositional, too. After the last round of primaries a couple Tuesdays ago, I spent an hour reading articles about the Tea Party. When I came up for air I was in an explicitly present-tense state of mind where anything written more than an hour ago seemed to be based on a world that had already been subsumed. Novels, which require a willingness to attend to more enduring themes, don’t hold up very well by this perspective.

Politics as a whole has a fairly degrading effect on my fiction drive. It’s not just that it’s depressing to watch the way Congress operates—it’s that it’s depressing in such an unredeemable way. Fiction can be depressing too, of course, but there’s something intrinsically optimistic about the process by which tragedy and frailty are turned into art.

Well, I'm not alone at least. Guess I have to get these books.

What?? Bees aren't all that busy?? Shocking news that I should have known.

In "A Book of Bees" Sue Hubbell writes:

"In an 1899 study, one Professor C. F. Hodge marked bees and watched them from daylight to dark. He reported, 'no single bee that I watched ever worked more than three and one-half hours a day.' In one case he saw a worker bee crawl into a cell and he watched her remain lying there quietly for nearly five hours. In the 1950s, Martin Lindauer, an entomologist, followed up on these observations. In a rigorous study, he tagged great numbers of bees and found that they spent a lot of time doing nothing at all, or very little. One typical bee during a hundred and seventy-seven observations hours, did absolutely nothing for seventy of them and "patrolled" the nest, as though looking for something to do, for fifty-six. During roughly two-thirds of her time she was performing no productive work."

And here I thought bees never rested, never slept. My cats work harder than these bees. Well... maybe not. But still.

Found somewhere out there in cyberspace.