Finally cleaned the bathroom, virtuous little housewife that I am. It took a while, but it's so satisfying to have everything clean, shiny, and neatly arranged. Then, went to the cemetery and was pleased to find the mums--white with yellow centers--still looking good. Watered, did the same at Jay's, but didn't stop anywhere else; I was hungry and wanted lunch. Had made two crock pot dishes: an eggplant, onion, tomato casserole and cauliflower. The first was okay, but tasted just as it does in the microwave, the c., though, was delish. I had cut it in small florets and added Mrs. Dash and just a splash of water. Devoured the whole thing, which was a good-sized head--oh, yes, when I eat veggies, I eat a lot of them. Also had salad.
Went to Staples later to duplicate a picture Bob Nelson had given me, of our clubhouse being built. Hope it can be scanned at the office and accompany the story.
Watched television for a time. Saw part of an Animal Planet show called Fatal Attraction about people who "adopt," live with, and dote on wild animals, in this instance, chimps. Once the cute little baby-like things grow up, they're dangerous and have a tendency to turn on their owners and kill or maim them, with a special liking for tearing off their faces. This idiocy--convincing yourself that a wild animal is going to care about you--almost (but not quite) argues for the "you got what you deserve" attitude, it seems to me. I wonder how many of these devoted and kindly animal people actively demonstrate opposition to the casual cruelty that goes on toward people, even children? Oh, there's my holier than thou persona rearing its stupid, self-satisfied head--shut up, Mimi.
WIDER: I haven't been commenting--ranting?--on the war and peace thing lately. Still read the anti-war blogs every day, but am beginning to develop an "it's no use" attitude. War and U.S. aggression are, let's face it, simply accepted as normal and natural now, I'm afraid. To even raise the subject in polite society is a breach of manners, it seems; what's wrong with this dodo, why doesn't she concentrate on important topics, like Dancing with The Stars?
So I guess you'd say I'm in moral hibernation. I'll come out of the cave eventually, but for now, need to just read, absorb, and mull over.

Low-key, but not a bad day yesterday. P. and N. called on the web cam, always an enjoyable event. P. said he'll "clean up" my computer when he's here in six more days--yay!--and I have a few other electronic chores for him.
A wondrous occurrence: I glanced out the dining room window at about five o'clock and there, eating the few grains of overflow from the bird feeder, was Bambi's mother. She raised her head and we stared at each other for several seconds, then she bounded away across the back yard. What a nice surprise! And this morning, Susan and I saw a number of deer tracks in the snow across several lawns. Nice.
The acting workshop last night was absorbing. Under our director's--well, direction, we enlarged on our presentations and added to them. I'll have to miss next week if I go with Alison to the airport, and am sorry about that.
Wider: This, from Stan Warford, at Anti-War.Com, is mind-boggling:
"The suicide rate for Iraq war veterans is twice the rate of nonveterans. At the time of this writing, more Iraq veterans have died by taking their own lives than have been killed in battle."
The full article, though is not about suicide, but about "The Christian And War" from a talk faculty member Warford (unfortunate name!) presented at Pepperdine University. In it, he argues that true Christians may not participate in, or support war.
Mr. Warford brings up a question I've been pondering for years: How can those who call themselves religious--maybe especially Christians, who say they follow Jesus--either accept or actively promote war? That includes, of course, Catholics and fundamentalists who are so vehement about abortion ("murdering innocents"), yet seem okay with slaughtering children in other countries. I've never been able to understand that.