The post I did last evening about the XXV Amendment to the Constitution was inviting people to become familiar with Sec. 4.
Well, by golly, Congress is going to try to put it in place. Heard it on the radio this morning.
The post I did last evening about the XXV Amendment to the Constitution was inviting people to become familiar with Sec. 4.
Well, by golly, Congress is going to try to put it in place. Heard it on the radio this morning.
No, I’m not going to write about what I was doing in 1977. Not that it was boring, it’s just that amendment XXV to our Constitution is something all have heard of but most can discuss only Section 1. There are four.
We all know that the 25th amendment to the Constitution, ratified 0n February 10, 1967, Discusses what actions to follow when the President is incapacitated. Ronald Reagan was almost fatally shot March 30, 1981. Bleeding and under anesthesia, he could not write a letter invoking the 25th. Clearly he could not draft a memo to Congress saying George H. W. Bush needed to step up. Wasn’t done, and Al Haig, then Secretary of State, took over insisting he was in charge, because he was next in presidential line of succession. And people listened to him.
George W. Bush twice used it and gave power to Dick Cheney when under conscience sedation. He could have been awaken
Sorry, Sir, than you were just a little farther down the list of presidential succession. The first pinch hitter is the VP. If he (or she coming to you soon.) If the VP cannot serve, the Speaker of the House becomes acting president. Hey, Nancy, at this time, you are right after the two idiots who are each one taco short of a combination plate. You could actually be the first female president. After Speaker of the House, if she cannot serve, next in line is the President Pro Tempore of the Senate, at this time, Senator Chuck Grassley of Iowa. The President of the Senate is the VP of the country. Then, Al, it goes down the list of cabinet members, first being the Secretary of State. Ding, ding, ding! Al, step up, you’re on. General Al Haig died in 2010. General, a grateful country honors your career in the military.
The first three sections of the 25th Amendment explain this further, but section one is the one people can rattle off.
The 25th amendment has a fourth section that explains what to do when the first three sections are not applicable. For instance, Reagan was unable to draft a memo when he was shot. No shame when you have a bullet one cm. close to your heart. The shame now is no one suggesting to the very ill Trump that he’s so freaking crazy, use the 25th, and let Mike Pence say he was POTUS. He could pick a VP, but honestly, folks, the clock is ticking.
Mr. and Mrs. Khan, who are Gold Star parents, loosing a son in Iraq. At the last presidential campaign in 2016, he was all over Trump about not letting Muslims into the country, and become citizens. Then Mr. Khan pulled out his pocket a small copy of the full Constitution. A lawyer, he passes them out to people.
I have one of these, available at any bookstore, which I kept in my purse or on the table in the TV room. I got this idea when talking to one of my students. He opened his wallet and pulled out his copy.
With all the episodse of the Keystone Kops running around trying to erase our best in the world way of life, even Trump’s doctor lies about his patients probably because he is a commander in the Navy, and his patient is the Commander-In-Chief, who sees into a crystal ball and says he is cured after two days at Walter Reed. Sorry citizens, HIPAA does not apply to the President. It is a matter of national security.
Trump is nuts, that can’t be argued. Going home from the hospital, fully made up and his hair wrapped in its typical roadkill style, took off his mask to show America gasping for breath. The he stood at attention saluting. Norman Rockwell he’s not.
If Pence and others mentioned in Section 4, that can get the 25th in place, and let the Emperor try on his new clothes and convalesce in the WH. It can be done. He’s already backed out of a safely run debate (I think he’s still very ill and could not go through with it.) There IS a solution to what is going on now, it’s all in the book. We need Republicans to read it. We know Trump never has.
I was blankly watching TV during this latest migraine. The kind so bad, you put your head on a hard pillow (mine is from my Tucson couch), and just listen.
I found a great series on Amazon Prime TV, but this is another network called UP, Faith and Family. I found it when my HS bestie, Kathy told me to watch “A Street Cat Named Bob.” True story, then I ordered the book.
So it turns out UP has a series called, Small Town, Big Mayor. He had, in a town of 400 people and two million hound dogs, and an uncountable number of cats a list of 95 things he wanted to get done.
First thing, they all drive golf carts. Must be Florida for sure, but it’s not. It turns out it is illegal in MS to drive golf carts on streets. Not being a mecca for golfing, people use them for economy, and they can drive one ten years with three gallons of gas. So Mayor John Henry Barry went to the State Legislature to get it changed. I am happy to announce the good folk of D’lo Mississippi can use their golf carts legally thanks to Mayor Berry.
One thing on His Honor’s list was making a library. Sent his sons out to rake in books. There were so few, some even x-rated, so the Mayor had other things to be checked out like a post hole digger, tool kits. He said, “Why buy it and then put it in a corner after you use it when folks can just sign it out using a bar code.) Brilliant!
Of course, at the mention of the word, library, I called Miss Sue down at the Town Hall. Love, love, love the accents. I still use y’all and all y’all (plural) even though I’ve been back from Texas for 8 years. Would they like a copy of my book for their library? Yes, Miss Mary (another thing southern; women are Miss Mary and others, men are Mr. First name.)
So I sent the book yesterday in my agony, because I also had some important banking
So I sent Miss Sue a copy of Drinking from the Trough, with a sticker that says, “Autographed Copy.” Imagine my book, in the new library in D’lo Mississippi! They want me to visit, but not with Covid and pulled pork. Bah now! Y’all come on up to Colorado, but bring some oxygen.
L’Shana Tova (Happy New Year-the greeting we say on erev Rosh Hashanah) This comes at sundown tonight.
Tonight we mourn the not unexpected loss of a liberal lion of the Supreme Court, Madam Justice Joan Ruth Bader Ginsburg. I can’t write much, but I will use one of my two my favorite poems, written by while dying by John Gillespie MaGee, Jr in WWII.
Oh to have slipped the surly bonds of Earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds-and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of-wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew-
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
Justice, you are now with Marty, the love of your life. You will always be in my heart.
Today, September 15, is Ivy’s fourth birthday. We went out back to throw the ball, and she will get a nice walk later when it’s cooler.
What a difference she has made in my life. From being a crazed widow to a happy, singing person, she has done that.
We are quite the therapy dog team. However, Ivy hasn’t been able to work, same as people due to Covid19. She needs me to take her, and where we visit, people aren’t allowed to be there.
So she is content, make that maniacal, to chase the ball from the ‘ChuckIt”. She really is good. She comes back to me with the ball and lies down. One exception: she will keep the ball and paw once on the grass, then slide and roll all over. It’s so cute. I am lucky to have such an obedient dog.
We haven’t been to Tucson due to Covid, and I doubt I will this year. Another spike will come, and to quote Tony Frank, Chancellor of the CSU system: “Mary, it’s going to be a bad winter.”
Other than people who are sick and dying, I have enjoyed the quarantine. I only go to Safeway, Trader Joe’s and Walgreens. Sometimes the bank. And the secret dog park with a trail for me to walk, no toys for Ivy, she just runs and runs. She knows where the water is, and gets soaking wet. The other day, she put the whole side of her face in the water bowl along with a ball she found. Then she paws out the water, and goes running again. Wash, rinse, repeat.
We also have to wish Sissy Cali a happy birthday. She’s Ivy’s sister (littermate, c’mon Mary did you not go to vet school?) They are quite the pair.
Ivy is sleeping on the couch. I occasionally hold a mirror under her nose. Hey wait! I have lots of stethoscopes.
I need to eat, now. Ivy won’t allow me to eat before morning game of fetch. I drew the line at not letting me stretch out. Hips sore in the morning, so we walk later, as I said, when I’m not so sore.
Happy birthday, my little one, many more.
Love, Your Dogmother
Well, folks, after a couple of years, I finally connected with Judy, my writing coach. Yes, I have started writing again.
As far as my first book, Drinking from the Trough, a Veterinarian’s Memoir, I had a great time writing it and learning about the book business from Judy and my publisher, She Writes Press.
I don’t know how many books sold. I do know I have to get into B/N’s face because their store in town has a local author’s site, and an animal site. My book wasn’t there. We have a ‘little mail box’ in our neighborhood. I signed and put my book in, and that’s the last I’ve seen of it. It’s always taken. So I signed another and put it in the little library. It’s out too.
I have some clues as to what I want to write about, but we’ll see what comes up. I have a few ideas, but one is so touchy, two people I told about it said not to write it.
I am in awe about how people have lived during this quarantine, the lies on TV, and lack of things to do. I have been crazy busy. I am trying to get my orthopedic remnants pain-free, and am down to just the one hip, not replaced, hurting, and my right thumb.
Ivy has also been grounded from her therapy dog work, too. We have been walking twice a day, throwing her “Chuck-It” ball, and keeping her training up. She still plays the Lotto, Megamillions and Powerball so she can support me in my declining years.
I still take precautions. Plus our governor ordered masks inside places of business along with social distancing. One of my ortho docs said we are in a small area of safety. I always have a Cubs mask around my neck ready to put on in an instant.
I am so sorry for the people who were ill, and of course those who died. One of the victims was the mayor of my home town of Highland Park, Illinois. Ray Geraci was 91. Med staff wanted to put him on a ventilator. Ray said, no, he had lived a good life for a long time, and to give it to a younger person. Then he died.
Do not be fooled by hopes of a COVID19 vaccine before the election, they take years to develop. One fatal illness in cats is called FIP, or feline infectious peritonitis. There is a wet form and a dry form. The wet form is easy to diagnose. Pulling some bright yellow fluid from the abdomen is diagnostic. For the lab test, there are problems. You see, FIP is a corona virus, and to test for it is iffy because other corona viruses, like the gastroenteral corona viridae, can show false positives.
The reason there is no virus for the common cold is because of how fast this rhinovirus mutates. The flu shot is a little more accurate, but it’s still a shot in the dark (pun not intended).
So I stay in working. Ivy loves to chase her ball out back behind the garages, usually before I can get my breakfast. We go to the dog park that has a walking trail, is right near the runway for the airport, and Ivy doesn’t need toys. She runs like a maniac. She is so fast. Being outside is a Godsend. Our neighborhood is quiet and friendly. I think I prefer behind the house. I always ask any neighbors out if this is okay, and they say it’s fine.
My house got painted a few weeks ago-it’s lovely. Please whack me upside the head with a ball pean hammer if I have to apply again for the HOA to approve, and also if I have to interview painters.
That’s it for now. I have a Zoom Parks and Rec. board meeting at 5:15. Last month, I absolutely screwed it up, and went to watch TV. Judy and I met by zoom, and our board secretary sent me idiot-proof instructions. Let us pray……
Hello, this is Ivy here. I had my dog surgery yesterday. It wasn’t bad-everyone was so nice. But Mom had left! Would I ever see her again? Oh well, they love me at the dog hospital because I am sooooo pretty.
I already had blood work, so all they had to do was the procedure. I was taken back to the work area. I got a peek at the room where I was going to be. The nice women who work in the back put a thing called a catheter in my arm, and started a bag of some liquid going into ME!
Next was the night night drug. Ahhhhhh. I was gone. I only remember waking up and I was whining. I don’t whine!
So here is what was done to me after I was asleep: I had a tube in my throat so gas would keep me asleep. My right hind leg was shaved and cleaned, and I guess I was taken into that scary-looking room with the huge light fixture.
The doctor made a cut, incision it’s called, around the tumor on my leg. It didn’t take very long to cut it out and label the edges for the pathologist to check margins to see if they are clean. I don’t understand all this stuff, but Mom explained it.
Mom picked me up a couple of hours later. I was pretty loopy, and those people put the “cone of shame” on my neck. Mom hates those, so she took it off, and to stop me from biting the staples in my skin, put some stuff called bitter apple around the staples.
I slept all day yesterday. I looked so comfy that Mom decided to sleep with me on her bed. And here came Frank.
Today, I can run a little, but am stopped from doing that, and I am not ‘3-legged lame.’ I still love to sleep on the patio. The new house we are moving into has a smaller patio, and Mom talked to a man who is going to build me a dog pen. The new house is not what something called an HOA says it should be, so she had to get plans into the HOA.
I have to be still until the staples come out, so I’ll just chill, and watch Downton Abbey, my fave. Gosh, I wish the theater would let me in to see the movie. Guess I’ll wait until Mom gets the DVD.
Keep you posted on the pathology report.
Sun, Oct 13, 6:49 PM (14 hours ago)
Hi, Mary –
Thanks for reaching out. The paperwork has been signed and no hurdles remain! Now, I need to discuss with you and potentially the family (if they are responsive) what should appear on the plaque. Once that is up, we can coordinate a small gathering to commemorate the moment.
I will call you early this week to discuss the language for the plaque.
Talk soon, Mary.
AARON J. PHANEUF
Director of Development
College of Veterinary Medicine and Biomedical Sciences
Colorado State University
970.821.6557 | Mobile
Just wanted you to know that the William D. Carlson, DVM PhD Radiation Physics Laboratory located in the Flint Cancer Center at the CSU Veterinary Teaching Hospital is almost ready to go, or RTG when we vets use abbreviations. No one deserves an honor like this more than my late father-in-law. Bill really did “invent” veterinary radiology by transposing human information into veterinary knowledge by doing a radiology residency at the CU med school, human of course, getting his PhD, then went on to teach many, many graduate veterinarians.
I would like to thank Aaron Phaneuf for being persistent and getting this done. He’s fairly new at his job, and must have found a million notes from me saying Bill really ought to be recognized for his ground-breaking work. I don’t have $75M to donate for naming the Radiation and Radiation Biology building, but Aaron and his co-workers were so kind to think up a lovely memorial to Bill in relationship to cancer in the radiation physics specialty.
If you would like to contribute to this or any other vet school projects, all you need is the zip code, 80523. The rest of the address is under Aaron’s info. Thanks for walking with me on this journey, Aaron.
BTW, when Aaron refers to the “family,” it is Earl’s family. They pulled up stakes as soon as Earl stopped breathing, and haven’t spoken to me since. Earl died ten years ago. They pushed through a church service which Earl strictly forbad, accused me of changing the service (!); and in the parking lot of the hospital watched me put his things into my Subaru, then announced: “We are going out to dinner. Are you OK getting home alone”? Ah, no….And now, they are remodeling the old farmhouse Earl and I adored, doing things we never were allowed to do, like having the landlord, his mother, fix the windows that we had to close (stuck) for winter, and open with a crowbar for the summer, held open by a stack of books. When the last window went, our cat, Matthew, was in it, and was caught between window and screen, breaking two bones in his paw. I put in Pella windows (do not buy Pella windows), for $9K, on a house I didn’t and never would own. Never compensated for things landlords are responsible for-carpet, paint, etc. I was told I had “lived for FREE for 27 years; and my mother-in-law said she was going to hire a lawyer to draw up a lease for me (I was moving to Texas;) but when I said, “I don’t know my status with this house” and was told “Everything goes to Tudy.” His sister. All of this was after Bill had died. We had asked Earl’s parents during our first year of marriage if we could buy the house. They declined, and we paid rent, the same amount for 27 years, with no or few improvements, unless they came from me.
I hope they know how hard I have tried to have a memorial to Bill Carlson, and would let up on the hate I know they carry in their hearts. Bill had no such feelings of hate or anti-Semitism, which I am sure the rest of them carry in their hearts while calling themselves Christians. Sorry, no they aren’t. Earl and I had a wonderful marriage. Sometimes downright scary due to his health issues and kidney transplant, but we shared everything, including the loss of my family members one by one over the years. Although he would never go to church, Earl was a true Christian who right now is at the right hand of G-d.
HISTORY OF ZONTA INTERNATIONAL
In Buffalo, New York USA in January 1919, five women attending a social meeting of Kiwanis as guests conceived the formation of a new service club. This new club would be composed of women who were recognized leaders in their businesses and professions. The primary purposes of the club would be to standardize and disseminate business principles and practices and to provide service to humanity through cooperative efforts. During the spring and summer of 1919, clubs were organized in Buffalo, Rochester, Binghamton, Elmira, and Syracuse, New York USA. Under the leadership of its Charter President, Marian de Forest, a playwright and newspaper critic, the Buffalo Club established specific guidelines for membership and classification.
The Confederation of Zonta Clubs was founded on 8 November 1919 in Buffalo. Mary E. Jenkins, newspaper publisher and civic leader, was elected the first president of the Confederation. Bylaws and a constitution were drafted and adopted, and selecting a name was all that remained.
Advancing the Status of Women Worldwide
Each club submitted a list of proposed names. The final vote was almost unanimously in favor of the Binghamton Club’s suggestion of “Zhonta”, as it was then spelled. A letter from the Bureau of American Ethnology of the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C. USA corrected the spelling to Zonta: “the word in question is from the Teton dialect of the Sioux stock of Native American languages. The word signifies ‘honest and trustworthy’.” The name “Zonta International” was officially adopted at the 1930 Convention in Seattle, Washington USA; and in September of that year, Zonta International was incorporated under that name in the State of Illinois USA. The following year, the word “Zonta” was registered with the Trademark Division of the United States government in Washington, D.C.
April of 1920 saw the first executive session of the Confederation’s officers convene in Rochester, New York. Among the considerable business conducted, the Zonta colors — mahogany and gold — were chosen, and the Zonta emblem, designed by Buffalo Zontian and artist Helen Fuchs Gundlach was officially authorized. In October 1920, the presidents of all existing clubs met in Syracuse, New York USA. Two important recommendations came out of the meeting: that the Zonta clubs take for their specific aim education and constructive work for girls and young women and that the Confederation’s first convention be held in Syracuse in May of 1921.
The Confederation was incorporated under the laws of New York State in February 1922. Five years later, the Zonta Club of Niagara Falls, which was composed of members from Canada and the United States, organized Toronto as the first club in Canada, and Zonta became international.
In 1931, Zonta was introduced to Europe when clubs in Vienna, Austria and Hamburg, Germany were organized. Over the next decade, growth continued steadily in Europe and Scandinavia. During the late 1940s and early 1950s, Zonta established itself in Latin America and Asia. By 1970, Zonta became truly worldwide when six African nations joined the organization. The last frontier was crossed in early 1991 when Szombathely, Hungary became the first Eastern European Zonta country.
Since 1919, Zonta International has supported international service projects that seek to improve the legal, political, economic, educational, health and professional status of women around the world, including, among others, preventing the practice of female genital circumcision in Burkina Faso, preventing violence against women in India, eliminating maternal and neonatal tetanus in Nepal, preventing human trafficking in Bosnia and Herzegovina, reducing obstetric fistula in Liberia and preventing mother-to-child transmission of HIV in Rwanda.
Zonta International’s business was administered from New York until 1928 when Chicago, Illinois was chosen as the site for Zonta’s permanent headquarters. From 1928 to 1987, as the organization grew, Zonta moved several times to accommodate the changing needs of the organization and its membership. In 1987, Zonta International moved its headquarters to 557 West Randolph where it remained until 2009 when it moved to 1211 West 22nd Street in Oak Brook, Illinois.
Advancing the Status of Women Worldwide.
OK, my writing now. Incredibly, the organization is based near where I grew up near Chicago. Amelia Earhart was an influential member. This year marks the 100th anniversary of its founding. Please support Zone by attending the book events this weekend-Saturday, 8/24 2-5 pm at the Fort Collins Barnes and Noble store (I speak at 4:45.) Sunday, the event moves down to the Loveland store.
Hope to see you there, and buy some really good books by local female authors.
I wanted to write a post about Cowboy Joe’s death July 15, but this is the first time I can type with some decency. I’m writing more now that a splint is on the hand with the thumb fracture (Bennett’s fracture if you are a medicine geek like me.)
I’ve posted about C.J.’s euthanasia. I always euthanize my own pets, even my horses. All I could do this time with my casted arms was have Dr. Thomas insert the needle into the catheter in my anesthetized Joe’s vein, and I pushed the plunger, delivering the solution into his body. It is my way of honoring my pets to do it myself. In my book, Drinking from the Trough, I discuss this more.
Between the time Cowboy was anesthetized, and being given the last shot, I was given time alone with him. Of course, the waterfall of tears fell. I talked to him the entire time, alive and dead.
Nancy was with me to drive, carry the carrier, 11 # lighter than before CJ got sick. She was in the room when he went to the Rainbow Bridge.
As is my nature, I worried about Franklin, CJ’s littermate. They were close brothers. Not one to anthropomophize animals, I do know the horror of losing a sister. Frank has cuddled close for the last month; I leave the bed unmade so he can sleep against the pillow; he talks more; and most interesting to me, started lying on the table in the TV loft where his brother hung out with the rest of us. Frank even kicked off the table one of the Longhorn cattle coasters I bought at Texas Tech just as Joe used to do.
Frank has Ivy, whom he loves, and vice versa. Ivy gives him kisses. Frank, almost 16, looks good, but has a significant heart murmur. I was going to put Joe to sleep when I go to Arizona this coming December, but he didn’t stay comfortable that long. I wonder about Franklin, but all things considered, he’s doing fine, stealing my pens and yelling about this, prompting Ivy to run and get it. Ivy used to chew them to oblivion, but now she brings them to me.
Will Frank be able to be driven to Arizona at the end of the year with a stop in NM to visit Ivy’s sister, Cali, and her family? I can’t predict, but I’ll do right by him, count on it. My squishy, cuddling, purring Frank will get all the attention I can give him to get him through his grief all the way to his own end run.
Cowboy Joe Carlson
December 2003-July 15, 2019
May your memory be a blessing