Huh: How'd THAT Happen?

One confirmed case of swine flu at the local marine base and a local high school shut down (one confirmed case) to prevent a potential problem from developing with the transient population that travels to and from Mexico weekly.

Huh; I wonder why no direct flights to/from Mexico didn't keep us safer.

Connect the Dots

Over the weekend it was announced that there is no reason to take precautions at the local airport regarding the swine flu epidemic in Mexico because no direct flights either come into or depart from the local airport and Mexico.

Let's add a couple of other facts, however, and see where we're headed.

~approximately 600,000 people cross the San Diego border between the US and Mexico legally on any given day, and San Diego is at most a 2-hour drive from here.
~many Mexicans do not cross the border legally.
~approximately 3 million illegal residents are currently living somewhere in the greater SoCal region
~the Coachella Valley has a disproportionate number of illegal residents from Mexico, based on its proximity to Mexico, family members residing in the area, and a liquid border
~many people cross the border into CA, AZ, NM, and TX -- and then fly into the local airport, perhaps including some who attended either Coachella Fest or Stagecoach within the past two weekends.

Therefore, the latest headline should come as no surprise: 2 people arrived at a local hospital over the weekend with flu symptoms and have been tested for swine flu. As the media reported, stay tuned for updates on this breaking story.

You Can't Have It Both Ways!

During the big rock-out last weekend, Coachella Fest, the cops were skewered by the press with photos and coverage of them tasering a nude, drunk male. Charges flew (again) of excessive force by the cops when the nude, drunk male became combative and refused to accept the authority of the police to remove him from the event.

This week, two-stepping through its 4th year, Stagecoach brought huge names to the Coachella Valley and thousands of concert attendees, many of whom apparently used the backside of the press tent to urinate, rather than stand in line to pee at the public portapotties. One member of the local press complained to police officers standing nearby -- who did nothing, and then took a picture of the cops "doing nothing." The press is now skewering the cops for "doing nothing" about the people who pee behind the tent.

You know, people, you can't have it both ways. If you want law enforcement to do its job, then let them work. If you want them to back way off and watch illegal behavior that is applauded by the public, then attack their actions in the media. Take care of the guy peeing behind the press tent yourself: photograph him and mock his conduct on the front page.

Cops are paid to enforce the laws, which include laws that prohibit public drunkenness and indecent exposure, so when they are just doing their jobs, find some other issue about which to vent your frustrations on the early evening news.

One More Item Off the Git 'er Done List

Mia and I went out early this morning to collect bigger rocks to line the walkway between the border garden and the fence in the backyard. I figured I needed 30 rocks, each of which would be about the size of a basketball, as well as three flat rocks to finish off the stepping stone pathway from the cement patio to the paver patio. The first 15 rocks were eezee peezee, but those last 15 were much harder to lift! Even remembering to bend at the knees and lift with my back, my entire body is sore from the gathering, but most especially my neck and shoulders.

I unloaded the rocks and put them in place, after first removing the much too small rocks I used in the meanwhile. Mia snoozed in the shade while I worked, staying clear of the hazardous work environment I seem to create with my projects. Once I finished replacing the rocks, she came by for a look-see and is not impressed, especially since I filled one of her excavations with the smaller cast-off rocks to save dirt when I finish the project by filling in the missing dirt, which I can do one wheelbarrowful a day for a few days.

I also bought a new set of solar lights and will replace those when it starts getting dark later today. I love having the soft glow of the lights throughout the garden when I sit outside and watch the stars dance with the rising moon.

Finally, I must lift up some pavers and put more sand under them as many of the first patio area pavers sunk after a year of being rained on and settling. That's tedious, but not difficult, so I'll probably do that a little bit at a time for a couple of mornings this week -- before I take my shower. One of my best reasons NOT to do the work that needs doing is that I take my shower before I remember that I wuz gunna...

Obits: Fill in the Blanks

I have become my mother: I'm reading the obits and remarking how many people my age have died, which brings me to the point of this posting. When I die, I don't want to do so euphemistically. A person who dies is dead: not dearly departed, deceased, gone to be with God, called home, raised up, crossed over, gone to the light, in heaven, left us, or enjoying their eternal reward. They are dead, so it's okay to tell anyone who wants to know that I have ... died.

Secondly, what is with the listing of everyone who is remotely related to the dead one? I'm reading the list of all the people the dead person shared a life with, including long-dead parents, siblings and sibling's spouses, previous spouses, all of the offspring of those sometimes many couplings and their spouses, grandchildren, cousins, nieces, nephews: the list is endless. Suffice it to say that I have two children and a grandchild. If Mia is still around, she'd appreciate being included in the obit as my loyal companion, but that might make readers believe that I'm living a lesbian lifestyle, so just give Mia a pat on the head, a belly rub, and a treat. She'll be okay with that.

As far as listing all of the places I've lived, it's a short list and literally not worth mentioning. I have not traveled the world, met rich/famous people, or made any significant impact on Mother Earth, other than digging up all my grass and replacing it with rocks to save water, so you can skip that entire section of the form.

I didn't play golf, tennis or any other sport, so skip the sports readout. I do like to knit, crochet, and read, but these are not hobbies that make an impact statement in an obit. Although I've spent a lot of my life in a church, I currently do not, so skip that part of the form, too. Religious preference: the shoreline at sunset.

As far as my creds, my lifetime accomplishments, basically I was a mediocre wife (at best), an okay mother, and a wishful g'ma. My profession, teaching, occupied me and paid the bills for 30+ years of my life. I joined many organizations that came into my life at various times/places, but no one really cares about all of that, including me, especially when the list does nothing except fill more column inches for which someone has to pay extra. I used to go more places, meet more people, and do more things than is my current practice. I stopped volunteering when I found that I could write a check once a year and skip the drain on my physical and emotional resources that used to add an extra 8-10 hours each week to my I'm not at home schedule.

I'm sure that there are some people who will feel badly when I die, but life moves on, and I'll be one of those "oh? she died? huh" comments shortly thereafter. And regardless of anything else anyone thinks they need to feel better about my death, the idea of a Celebration of Life is so far from who I am, don't even go there! I'm dead, but I'll still be pissed. In lieu of flowers, donations, or a formal funeral service, how about if everyone who appreciated who I was and what I did with my life sends a thank you note to someone else they encountered in the course of their journey?

You know: pay it forward while the person is still alive to read the words and appreciate the sentiment.

And if anyone can find a download of Peggy Lee singing Is that all there is?, play it.