:: mama bear::

We haven't had a good rant around here for awhile now. It's been at least a week or two since anyone has pissed me off, and that just won't do, now will it?

First off, let me say that I am a hiker. I looove to be out in the forest, up in the trees, communing with nature. So I'm not bashing hikers, just dumb ones who report "problem bears" in remote, wild areas.

This morning on the local public radio, I heard a story about how the rangers at Glacier National Park are "going to have to shoot and kill" a 17 year old grizzly sow. Has she eaten anyone? No. Has she been going into campgrounds and tearing apart camp sites? No. Has she been terrorizing a neighborhood and getting into trash cans? Nope.

Her only offense is that she is not afraid of people. People who hike far into the back-country of one of the most wild places in the world. People who set up their tents in the midst of a gigantic huckleberry patch. What do wild bears eat this time of year, as they prepare to go into hibernation? That's right, huckleberries. So because hikers go into this bear's "kitchen" so to speak, and she doesn't run in fear, she is going to be shot. The interactions have never resulted in any confrontations, let alone injury. The "incidents" have ALL taken place 7-10 miles from the nearest campground or paved road.

This infuriates me. I'm all for people being able to go into the back-country and have their experience, but if there is a problem with a WILD ANIMAL in that animal's habitat, shouldn't the people be controlled, and not the animal? After all, the people have a choice about going into the back-country. The bear does not.

I feel the same way about people who build their dream homes "out in the country" and then, when a mountain lion or a wolf eats little FiFi, they want the Fish & Game to come trap the "offender" and remove it or worse, kill it. If you don't want interactions with wildlife, don't build your house outside the city! Because that's where the animals live, people!

Where is the common sense here? Why do we believe that we are entitled to haul our sleeping bags, food and trash into these wild places, that it is ALL our domain? That we should be able to have our wilderness experience, but without all those pesky wild animals?

It's all about risk. If you are willing to take the risk of going into those remote, wild places, then you must accept the consequences WITHOUT COMPLAINT. It's called "survival of the fittest", and if you get mauled or eaten by a bear, well then, you were someplace you weren't supposed to be, now weren't you?

RRRAAAWWWWRRR!!!

What do you think about this? Should people take precedence over wild animals? Do we have a "right" to wander safely through the wildnerness without any risk?

**UPDATE: The grizzly sow was shot and killed today, about an hour or so ago, as she approached a back-country campground.

She had two cubs with her. One of the cubs died after being shot by a tranquilzer gun; the other is being sent to the Bronx Zoo. They should have just shot him too.

Fuck.

::weekend::

It's beginning to feel like fall in these parts, and I like it. We had a nice, quiet weekend.

We tortured poor Rootbeer:

"I disapprove of this!"

....I sewed some new pillows for our couch in the TV room...David does not share my love of kitsch, but I figured with the deer on here, he'd be ok with them. I can tell he prefers the old, fugly, brown ones, but what does he know? The only thing he has good taste in in dogs and women.

...envelope back...

...we went for a lovely bike-ride on Sunday...

...oh, and I ran 18 miles and lived to tell about it!

Hope you are enjoying the last few weekends of summer. I can not believe school starts in a week and a half.

::child abuse::

Anna: "Mom, did you know that some people have skunks as pets??"

Me: "I think I did know that."

Anna: "Yeah, you can have their stinkers removed."

Me: "I've tried to have my stinker removed, but she keeps finding her way back home."

Life lesson from a 7 year old

When Anna was in first grade, at a new school, I went to pick her up one day. Her friends Annie and Sydney were coming over for a play date, so we all met up outside Anna's classroom. As we walked toward the car, Anna started telling me how this girl, Sarah, had punched her at recess. Punched my baby. I have never even spanked my child, and believe me, there were a few times where it took every ounce of super-human strength I had not to swat her butt, just for the instant-gratification it might have given me. By "a few times" I mean basically her ENTIRE THIRD YEAR on this planet.

Anyway, Anna is telling me about this girl punching her and Annie and Sydney are chiming in saying "Yeah, Sarah is really mean! And she never gets in trouble for it."
By now we're in the car; I'm clucking and offering sympathy when all of a sudden, they all three yell "There she is! That's the girl!" Foolishly, I say "Anna, do you want me to say something to her?" and all three of them are shouting "Yes! Go get her! Let her have it!" And because I am essentially a 7 year old myself, I pull the car over right next to the curb where the unsuspecting bully is minding her own business, walking home from school with her older brother. I walk up to her, bend down to her level (both literally and figuratively, I'm afraid) and say "Hi. My name is Kate. I'm Anna R's mom. I hear you hit her today." She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide. "I don't want you to ever hit her, or anybody else, ever again. You got it?" She nodded silently. "Good" I said and strode, triumphantly, back to the car to the cheers and disbelief the girls.

Oh yes. I did.

Of course I am duly mortified now, because in hindsight I realize that that day? My daughter was not bruised or bleeding. If she had been punched there would have been physical damage, right? And no teacher is going to let that behavior go unpunished. Most likely it was a typical playground shove is all. And so every time I've seen that little girl in the two years since, I am ashamed of myself. Far more, I'm sure, than she ever was about having decked (or pushed) my daughter.

The thing is, this girl is wonderfully unique: she has super short hair and she wears nothing but baggy shorts and football jerseys. I am certain she will grow up to be, at minimum, a bull-dyke and possibly even transgendered. So of course, being the rebel-without-a-cause that I am, I want Anna to be friends with her. But I've always felt guilty that I ruined the chances of that the day I confronted her on that sidewalk.


And then today, I got a phone call from an unfamiliar number.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Um....do you have a kid named Anna?" she asked, in her Tatum O'Neal-in-Paper Moon voice.

"Yes.....?"

"This is Sarah (last name omitted to protect the innocent). I was wondering if she could come over and play on my new slip 'n' slide today."

Anna wasn't available to play because she was at her grandma's house in the valley, but as I write this? I am seriously considering putting on my swimming suit and showing up on Sarah's doorstep with a football under one arm to ask if I can play on that slip 'n' slide with her. Because apparently she either forgot or forgave my actions that day.

And out of gratitude, I promise to never be one of those moms again.

grumpy mcgrumperton

I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been particularly snarly the past few days. I'm feeling very much like a certain hairy, green muppet-monster. Just stay the hell away from my trash can.

This kid, however, is a pretty good reminder of all that is good in the world. She came out onto the porch the other night, laughing her head off and said "Your new shaving cream sure smells good!"

And last week I brought her to work with me one day. She LOVES to come to work with me, I do not know why, but she has been asking to do so for months now. So while I pretended to work, she entertained herself. This is one of the things she left behind for me to put up on my office wall, renderings of some of the many, many nicknames I have given her over the years:

Love Bug, Cutie Pie, Sweetie Pie, Boo Boo (that's a bleeding wound, in case you wondered), Peanut, Pumpkin and of course, Snickle-Fritz Picklepants.

She also answers to Boo, Boosker, Booger, Peanutbutter, Nanner, Bug, Little Pink Devil, Trouble and Punkin-butt. Poor kid didn't even know her real name until she started elementary school.

Tonight, while my husband is in Leavenworth without me, enjoying Basil Margaritas and probably even secretly sneaking off to see Sound of Music, Anna and I are going to rent the movie "Big", because she has never seen it. We'll cuddle up in the big bed with ice cream and the dogs.

Hopefully my mood will improve so that I don't end up with an unfortunate nickname myself.

Um, WHY??? (or, how to irritate the beejeezus out of me, part 2)

Warren Jeffs, convicted child molester and former leader of the FLDS cult (er, religious group) is being "force-fed" to keep him alive.

http://www.ktvb.com/news/regional/stories/ktvba-aug0409-jeffs.a9c32910.html

how to irritate the beejeezus out of me

First, do your weekly grocery shopping at 7:00 in the morning on a week day (also known as a work day for some people.) Fill your cart to the brim with potato chips, case upon case of Diet Pepsi products, and loads of pre-packaged food-like substances.

Second, as you are moving, sloth-like, toward the checkout line and you see someone coming toward you, someone who is obviously dressed for work (as opposed to your un-showered, sweats-wearing self), someone who appears to be in a hurry with just 2 items in her hands, see that as challenge to move faster than you have all week in order to get in line ahead of said working person with TWO FUCKING THINGS IN HER HANDS.

ahem.