It was a good day

I don't have any jokes, knocks on politicos, or "That's outrageous!" moments for you.

But I can report this weekend was good, exactly as it was meant to be. As Ice Cube would say "Today was like one of those fly dreams..."

Friday marked the day that Mrs. B and I would have welcomed our child to this side of the world had a sudden ailment not taken our baby from us prematurely in late fall. So we spent this weekend in quiet reflection, enjoying life and each other's company and letting faith, good sense, and even a little science and logic guide us to the conclusion that things are happening in the proper order and we'll be parents when we're supposed to be.

Even so, the past several months have been an emotional roller coaster. Family and friends - and I'm including you all who weighed in through this blog - said all the right things. Co-workers and friendly acquaintances said all the right things.

We asked why, 'cause we wouldn't be human or normal if we didn't ask why. We got bitter. I suspect before all is said and done we will again...and again...and again. We laughed. We cried.

I could wrap this up right now with some sort of ism, some borrowed line from a poem like "Footprints in the Sand," or some figure of speech like "what doesn't kill you..."

But the fact is what doesn't kill you is still likely to really piss you off, at least temporarily.

I'm gonna compare this battle with the struggles of a one-time drunk: Twenty years after you've gone dry, you still ID yourself to new people as a "recovering" alcoholic. Less than five months after our loss, we're not healed. We're healing. We're good but still getting better.

Everyday it gets a little easier. Everyday something falls in place to let us know that God or the cosmos or Fred Claus or whatever/whomever you believe in gets us and gets that we're determined to have kids and raise 'em right and teach 'em how to feel ways about stuff. I believe in Karma and fate and so on. So, I don't believe it's any coincidence that just before the weekend Mrs. B's doctor gave her a super clean bill of health and finally, finally gave us the two-thumbs-up go-ahead to try again.

So with every bit of hippietude I can muster, I'm offering a toast to the architect(s) right now:

It's all good.

From the Weekend

• Political correctness goes awry again...in my humble opinion: I realize that the minor children of prominent politicians should never be the targets of political opponents or media pundits. But grown people are fair game. That being said, I thought NBC reporter David Schuster was stupid and stuck his foot in his mouth late last week when he speculated on the air that Chelsea Clinton was being "pimped out," presumably by her parents, on behalf of Hilary Clinton's presidential campaign. My impression, all things considered, was that Schuster felt like Chelsea was being aggressively used to make her mother seem more attractive to the younger, hipper registered voters. And the truth is, she is being used for that purpose, and there's nothing wrong with that. If I had a powerhouse spouse who once held the job that I want, and an attractive young, hip, child, I'd have them both in front of as many crowds as possible cheerleading for me. Was Schuster suggesting that someone in the Clinton campaign is an actual pimp and Chelsea is that person's employee? No. Was his choice of words to describe Chelsea's role dumb? Yes. Should he have been suspended over those words? I don't think so. At the time he stuck both feet in his mouth he wasn't reporting a straight, plain, news story. He was participating in a broadcast segment in which he was expected to share his opinion. He tried to do it in a hip, snarky way. And it backfired on him.
• The new face of irony: British singer Amy Winehouse. Winehouse, who won five Grammy Awards last night, got one trophy for her record "Rehab," a song whose chorus goes "They tried to make me to go to rehab and I said no, no, no!" But Winehouse did not attend the Grammys. She performed via satellite from the UK, where she is in...rehab. Seriously. But all kidding aside, good for her. Crack kills.



• Absent bears: I watched "Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon" the other night for like the 15th time. And it finally clicked with me what about that movie has always bugged me. No pandas. During those fight scenes in the bamboo forests, I wanted to see pandas come darting out of the woods, putting the bear smack down on unsuspecting hikers and travelers, sort of the way grizzlies do in the wild in the U.S. Don't ask me why. I just wanted pandas in that film and never got 'em, and it bummed me out.



• Karma sleeping on the job: I wish I had a photograph for you, but all I had on me was a cell phone camera with no flash when I encountered the following scenario on Saturday: Mrs. B, Cheko the Dog, and I were walking around the neighborhood and found ourselves next to a very well kept house several blocks from our own. We always compliment this place on our walks, 'cause the owners/residents make such an effort. Anyway, on their side fence the residents had posted a new sign to the effect of "You are responsible for your dog's waste....If he goes right here, please pick it up." So what do you think was lying in a tightly coiled pile right under the sign?



• Being sympathetic vs. being a pushover: Mrs. B and I attended a very productive meeting of homeowners, landlords, neighborhood activists, and city officials the other night. At issue was the gentrification of the neighborhood. We live on the south end of the 'hood. Some of the residents on the north end of our neighborhood are located just blocks from what amounts to a giant soup kitchen. So at all times of the day and night they have homeless rifling through their trash cans, sleeping and relieveing themselves on lawns, leaving their empty food containers on lawns, and generally hanging around on lawns. Thankfully absent was the recent-former police chief who at a similar meeting a few months back suggested I was a mean person and accused me of trying to legislate homelessness into illegality, because I asked him if there was anything the police could do to help move people along. I'm glad the old chief was absent, because I didn't have to explain again that his argument was apples vs. oranges, sympathy vs. sucker-hood. Homelessness can't be legislated anymore than we can mandate that every human is required to keep a roof over his head. What can be legislated, however, is behavior to some extent. If you spend hours at a time hanging out in front of someone else's house, dropping trash everywhere, relieving yourself, and hollering at passing cars, you're not a problem because at the end of the day you don't have a roof over your head. You're a problem because you're loitering and being a nuisance - mostly on private property, and you need to move on. If the former chief really believed that nonsense about a cop crackdown being tantamount to treating homelessness like a crime then he's a pushover, 'cause if you're being a nuisance on other people's property and you have nowhere to go, then the the government agencies that snatch taxes need to move you somewhere where you can get appropriate help and care.

Karma needs to put up or shut up

Somebody hit my car...while it was parked...minding its own business. It likely happened yesterday afternoon or last evening. Front right fender. That's probably why I didn't see it right away.

Seven years I lived in the Upper Midwest, where six months out of the year people are sliding over the road 'cause it's covered in ice and slush and rock salt, where simply parking your car was like a surgical procedure 'cause you could easily hit a slick spot and bump the car next to you. And not once did I get a ding, dent, or scratch caused by another vehicle on my truck. Not once. What are the road and parking lot conditions down here? It rains sometimes.

I am pissed off. Do people not put notes under windshield wipers anymore? Wait. I'm in South Florida. It's stupid to ask questions you already know the answers to.

Seriously, this puts me in an arse-whipping mood. I think I might have to go to the gym later and strap on the gloves and the foot pads and beat a sparring partner like he stole something.

If that guy working the afternoon shift on the highway entrance ramp by the Herald is there when I leave today I might roll my window down and take change out of his cup.

My inconsiderate neighbor's yappy mutt that poops on other people's lawns and nips at other people's heels? I just might practice my field goal kicking this evening. I'll bet I could boot the neighbor a few feet off the ground. And that barking rat would at least make it over the roof line.

How could a place with so much sun and such easy access to the beach contain so many dregs?

Karma is not doing her job. She is asleep at the switch and needs to be either suspended or fired and replaced with some new cosmic force like, maybe, The Great Arse-whipper.

Some of these mouth breathers need to start making obvious payments for their callous treatment of other humans in this part of the country. I don't see payments being made. I see bad people getting away with bad behavior and carrying on, because Karma is not putting them in check.

If Karma doesn't start making these people pay and letting the rest of us see it, so we maintain some hope that there are such things as consequences then there will be a lot of William "D-fens" Fosters and a lot of Bruce Waynes (not the Saturday morning cartoon Bruce Wayne, but the original guy who became Batman because he was an angry, bitter, vengeful, near maniac) popping up.

No worries. I didn't like "Falling Down." And I don't think capes and rubber tights are my bag. Plus I'd be the crusading "hero" who got caught. And least you forget, I'm too pretty to go to jail.