Hiatus

I haven’t quit blogging (so don’t delete me) but ACC has definitely taken a back seat to other things that are going on right now. To put it as simply as possible, except for six days "under-the-weather" Hubby has been in the hospital since August 30 because, according to him, he much prefers their cooking to mine.

I’ll be back as I can, when I can.

Guard the Borders Blogburst

by Heidi at Euphoric Reality

This week’s Blogburst is available as a Podcast.

In the days and weeks leading up to the fifth anniversary of 9/11, I have been musing how the overall impact of that single days' terrorism has affected our nation. Some people have felt their initial shock and horror fade away to something sadly benign - a quiet relief that it hasn't happened again, and a determination to "do their part" going on with their lives. After all, if they didn't, then the terrorists would've "won" that day, they aver. Others like me, felt that same shock and horror harden into a stone cold fury and an implacable resolve to fight this burgeoning evil that hides behind the facade of religion.

The question on everyone's minds is, "Are we safer today than we were on 9/10?" With our wide-open borders, and our government's refusal to crack down on illegal aliens, my answer is a resounding "NO!" There is no way any politician or civic leader can claim that we have gotten tougher on evicting people who should NOT be here. In fact, they are competing over how many millions of illegals we can let in each year without identification, without background checks, and without any knowledge of where they are or what they are doing. In fact, our "leaders" are racing to see who can squash any meager attempt at controlling our borders or enforcing our immigration laws the fastest! It has become a feather in their cap to deny to rule of law and leave our borders defenseless.

There is no doubt that illegal immigration is the gaping hole in our tenuous national security. President Bush narrowly defines the issue of our national security as a matter of success in Iraq. The House - heeding the overwhelming demands of the constituents who elected them to office - has refused to grant amnesty to over 20 million illegal aliens inside our borders. And with the Senate's obstinate refusal to physically safeguard our border, Congress has reached an impasse. What a solution! When the swiftest and most decisive action is called for...they do nothing.

Third World County says it best:

...every single one of the nineteen 9/11 hijackers was in this country illegally at the time of their terrorist act.

Every. Single. One.

So, for all those political poltroons pimping amnesty (yes, you too, Mr. Bush), remember this: failure to enforce immigration laws, crack down on forged and hijacked SS documents, etc., cost American lives on 9/11.

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This has been a production of the Guard the Borders Blogburst. It is syndicated by Euphoric Reality, and serves to keep immigration issues in the forefront of our minds as we're going about our daily lives and continuing to fight the war on terror. If you are concerned with the trend of illegal immigration in our country, join the Blogburst! Send an email with your blog name and url to euphoricrealitynet at gmail dot com.

I remember . . .

Robert Levine, 56, West Babylon, N.Y.
corporate broker sales, Cantor Fitzgerald Confirmed dead, World Trade Center, at/in building
I'm not on the list of blogs for the 2996 Project. I did, however, choose Mr. Levine to remember by putting the Project Logo (with his name and the town in which he lived) in my sidebar.

Kate and Jonathon of Jonathon'a Closet also chose to remember Robert Levine. Please take just a few minutes to read what the mother and son blogging team wrote.

I'm going to remember Mr. Levine my own way. No, I didn't know him or anyone in his family. I do know West Babylon, the small Long Island town he called home.

I grew up there.

Not quite a year ago Babylon Township unveiled its own 9/11 Memorial to honor the 48 of its own who were killed that beautiful, crisp September morning five years ago.

Although I haven't lived in West Babylon since the mid-70s, just as the Township claimed its own to remember, I chose one of my own.

After Ernesto

Ernesto came and went very quietly here. A short spat of rolling thunder and lightning, all somewhere else. According to the weather service we had less than an inch of rain. The leak (only one produced) in the dining room ceiling resulted in perhaps a half-inch of water in one of the buckets I'd placed, decoratively of course, on the floor. The (first) roofer (who called) starts early next week and should be done in two . . . maybe three days. He's is a bit more expensive than the other one who gave us an estimate, but given they're both using basically the same materials, this one can be here faster, be done quicker and his ten-year- guarantee on workmanship is twice that the other one offered.

There was some positive news about Asshole, the horse. The vet(s) had finally figured out the reason for the sporadic, massive discharge of totally disgusting, stinky crap from his nostrils (one in particular) and mouth: an infection in the gutteral pouch. And he'd been allowed back on feed AND instead of diarrhea, sometimes explosive because of the alfalfa, we'd found a mixture worked. We had horse apples again! Except yesterday morning it all caught up with him.

Dogs you set free when their time comes. With a horse, you put them down because a prey species, meaning they're not the eater but the eaten, the very last thing to go is their legs. Their ability to stand.

Apparently shortly before I went out to feed Asshole laid down.

He kept trying to get up but couldn't. The vet gave us options, all of which — if any of them had worked — would have only delayed what had become inevitable for a day, maybe two or a few weeks.

We chose the option that was best for him.

"The Mayor," Herself's father, called a friend to bury Asshole out back for us.

Dingbat, his stable mate for 15 years, has been calling for him ever since. I'm hoping maybe, just maybe, he and Starbuck (the Wonderdog) will eventually stop their normal pattern of one chasing the other all over the place. Maybe, just maybe, Dingbat's herd instincts will change their relationship.

And no. It's not Starbuck chasing Dingbat to exhaustion.

I was doing a load of laundry when Da Kid — who was off duty today and had flopped on the couch when he got home this morning — yelled, "Mother! The roofers are here!"

A horde of bronze-skinned, half-nekkid young men unloaded from the three trucks, and not a one of them spoke English. Instead, their first language is Redneck although one, after the thumps and yelling, is obviously quite conversant in Anglo-Saxon, too.

I thought one of them had fallen off the roof but no. He'd only shot himself in the leg with the nail gun. While the portion of the anatomy hit varies, apparently this is a standard practice in the trade. Even a requirement?

From what I can gather evidence of a nail gun wound earns a merit badge of sorts, but his wound isn't even worth minimal bragging rights. Now if he'd shot through three fingers and nailed them together (like so-and-so did) THAT might be worth talking about.

And as he's "walking it off," he stops and apologies to me for any off-color language I might have heard that he used.

They should be done (including clean up) tomorrow.