My niece Kim just sent me some more photos of Emma, and I offer this one as a PSA, (public smile announcement). As you can see, she was energized by Kerry's acceptance speech, too.

It's probably okay that I call her "little butter bean" right now, but she too can grow up to win the popular vote someday, at which time I will call her Madame Butter Bean President.

What a man. What a mind. What a speech! What a beautiful new day in the neighborhood. Welcome to the national stage, (future) Mr. President.....

It's my Party, and I'll cry if I want to. GO DEMS!!!

First, big thanks, for all your condolences about our loss last week. It helped me...honest.
My sweetie and I have tried to know the 'why' of it, and probably never will, and only knew that we could not/would not keep any dog that attacks another. Mavis ( a blue-tick hound) was really, really old. Sister Babe was old, too. Homo was very young, very big (over 100 lbs.), but sweet and deferential to the females. They were spayed, and he was neutered. So who knows why it happened, but it did. Clues: Sister Babe was a mutt, with pit bull in her. Homo was a mutt, with lots of Rottweiler in him.

I've taken in mutts all my life, but have also taken some hard lessons from this experience.

Oh, about the photo. Snapped it a few weeks ago, because it made me laugh. And then think.

Do I ever forgive, or do I just forget? Do any of us?

p.s. extra thanks to Jim at The Rittenhouse Review, (if you're not already reading him, what the heck is wrong with you?). He published a little photo of mine the other day, just before the accident.

It's impossible for my sweetie and I to know how it started or why it had to happen at all, but late Wednesday night, while I was making my way home from the riding school, two of our outside dogs attacked the third, Mavis, our old hound dog. My sweetie did the best she could to try to break it up, and neighbors came by, hearing her screams.

I got home an hour later, and we tended to the old girl's wounds and nursed her through the night and thought she had a good chance, not knowing that she had invisible and severe internal damage. Yesterday afternoon, we had Sister Babe and Homo put down for the attack, and had to let Mavis go, too. We both held and petted her, as the injection did its swift, soft work.

It's almost too much grief for one day - we loved them all, and now the strangeness of such sudden horror and loss needs some time.

Thanks, everyone who comes by to my wee site. See you Monday.

Have a nice day, you Dick!

If you're like me, you are in denial over any number of things. I am not, however, in denial over pedestrian concerns such as my age, (I am, as my so-called friend Renee says, "older than dirt"), or my weight, (I weigh quite a bit more than I did at age 10). I do not have "laugh lines," I have laugh ditches, and besides, what's so bad about that? I am not in denial over George W. Bush's presidency, though I try to be.

I am not even in denial over Smarty Jones' loss in the Belmont Stakes. I am in denial over Birdstone's win.

"And on the track, moments after the race, as fans all over Belmont wondered what they had just seen, wondered why Smarty couldn't hold the lead down the stretch, and even wondered who was this horse that won the race, Birdstone's jockey, Edgar Prado, galloped up and leaned over to Stewart Elliott, Smarty Jones' jockey.

"I'm sorry," Prado said."

The winner's owner and trainer also apologized. Even the other jockeys seemed a bit blue. Such was the heart-stopping thrill of watching this most unlikely horse try for the big prize. He tried very, very hard. Thanks, little guy.

"If I didn't know it was Smarty, I'd be quite struck by the horse and the way it carries itself," said Sister Patricia Friel of the Little Sisters of the Poor. "It's a beautiful creature of God."

People like to go nuts over all kinds of things. I have personally gone nuts over such things as: school (I am a proud nerd, and am thinking of returning to school, like, forever); a boy named Eddie, when I was 8; Elvis, also when I was 8; ice cream sandwiches (to this day); Richard Chamberlain as Dr. Kildare (I plotted an inevitable course toward our marriage); playing baseball (the street kids trembled, as I made my warm-up swings); the Beatles (if you didn't hear & feel that click in your head and soul, I can't help you); and a few lovers who have taught me some, er, interesting things (and we're not talking omelettes).

Some people are going nuts over Smarty Jones these days, and I'm of course one of them. I first went nuts over horses at 7, when my mom took me for lessons in Chicago. I nearly got bucked off, and quit for about 20 years. Then I came back and got nuts again. Being with horses is to be in school forever, and that's just the way I like it, non-verbal communication being something I'm also nuts about, (along with dangling participles, lovers, chads, conversations, and the superficial sighs, that are the borders of our lives....)(please don't sue me, Paul Simon, I just work lounge here and there must be (at least) 50 ways I could have made that last sentence better).

People from all around the world are nuts over Smarty Jones, and this is a good thing.

"Much to Servis' delight, a great deal of the mail is from children; he feels that is good for the future of the sport.

The boy wrote: "You have inspired to me to run like a racehorse while walking with my physical therapist, and when I walk in the pool my nurse times me when I pretend to race. I even whinny like a horse."

My advice is this: if you're tired of the regular things that make you nuts, go nuts about Smarty Jones. He's one cool horse, and the people who have brought him this far are so doggone they're cool, too. Racing is such a crapshoot (horse-apple shoot?) anyway, and so is life. Go nuts while you can.

Why sit around and watch talking tv heads discuss George Tenet's r-e-s-i-g-n-a-t-i-o-n when you can watch the finals of the 77th Annual Scripps National Spelling Bee, today on ESPN from 1-4 p.m. Think you're a good speller? Try yer your luck here.

I've been mad at the word misseltoe mistletoe for 42 years, but my therapist insists I'm close to a brakethrough.

We're fond of day lillies, and grow tons of them. Their Latin name, Hemerocallis means 'beautiful for a day.' I'd like to say that we notice the daily passing of some of them, but we don't. There are too many.

Bless all of you who truly fought for our freedom, and bless all of you who were sent to fight for vain policies, too. You are too many.

The Veteran Experience - video clips via The History Channel.

CBS News' profiles of soldiers who've died in Iraq: Fallen Heroes

Funny how time flies when you're mixed up about everything. I haven't been sure if I'm waiting for Godot, Bardot, Inspector Clouseau, Don Ho, Dr. No or who knows whom. On the other hand, (or hoof), perhaps I am just about to make that train...if I can...run...just a...bit...faster.

Thanks everyone who has stopped by and emailed, wondering wtf, Peggy? I'll be back soon, when the waiting/running stops. Meantime, "Everyone out for volleyball!"

'Blazing' and 'amazing' work, too: "I was actually right behind the winner, but he's very, very special," Stevens said after the race. "We might be seeing a Triple Crown winner. My horse had another gear, but Smarty Jones had four more gears. Smarty really reminded me of Secretariat the way he pulled away."

(photo: AP)

"I keep a holler halfway up my throat." -jockey Russell Baze, in this interactive jockey's eye view of a horse race.

Good luck today, little horse. Good thing I am not your jockey. I would, like, totally fall off.

*UPDATE* To borrow a phrase from my brothers' youth(s): He blew their doors off, man.

Skycar

I hate to fly, but I love to drive. Things are looking up, as it were. As long as they come with cup holders and good mufflers, I'm cool with this.

What's Next?

Try your luck in the Rocky Top Brigade Volunteer Tailgate Party -Scratchcard Edition - over at Medb's place.

A quick tour of pro-war blogs this morning yielded a depressingly predictable common thread: most of the authors have not only viewed the video of Nick Berg's brutal murder, but provide direct links to the video and/or still images from it. The authors issue short, solemn warnings, 'You may not want to look at this...,' followed immediately by their breathless success against any lingering sense of decency, '.... but here it is.' Most of these same people could not resist watching (and offering links to) the murder of Daniel Pearl, either.

Pardon me for asking some basic questions: Why would anyone want to view a beheading (or any kind of murder)? Why would anyone encourage others to watch video of a murder?

These are not political questions.

----

May you rest in peace, Nick Berg. Maybe when our home-grown cyber snuff film industry stops disrespecting you, you can.

My prayers to you and to your family.

*downdate* 5/14/04
Silly me. Lots of people seem to indeed thirst for the chance to look at Nick Berg's murder, and somehow come here thinking that they can, judging by my unwanted hits. Hey, howdy, you idle freaks! Good for you. You like so totally (I)raq.