Showing posts with label Cherokee blood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cherokee blood. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Let's Hear It For All Us Mutts

Obama is in hot water already for a couple off-the-cuff remarks, the first about seances, a reference to Nancy Reagan and the White House astrology business, and the second for referring to himself as a 'Mutt.'

Ye gods, by now anyone whose family has been here for a few generations is a mutt. I claim the British Isles, France, Germany and Austria and two American Indian tribes as ancestors. My sons can add the (always) disputed border of Eastern Germany and Poland to the heritage, adding a bit of Slav. My granddaughter gets all that and I do believe that some extra Cherokee entered the mix.

And isn't it a good thing to be a mutt? No inbreeding, for one thing. Jeez, you wouldn't want that godawful Hapsburg jaw or non-clotting blood would you? All those bad genes combining with all those bad genes. Gimme new blood. Make it red.

Aren't those shelter dogs the best of the best? My great grandfather was half-Indian, a so-called half-breed that the family kept quiet about. It was shameful then. Now we celebrate our mixed heritage. After all, it's a melting pot.

Put a tablespoon of butter and one of olive oil into the skillet and they will run together? Butter for flavor and olive oil for higher heat tolerance. The yin and the yang. Combining the best of most products.

If you're a mutt, be proud. Celebrate your variety. Red blood is better than blue any day.

Grapeshot

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

Sour Grapes About Sarah


I have to confess. I'm jealous of Sarah and mad as hell that no one nominated ME for VP. After all, I was a PTA president, ran a lot of charity benefits (people and organizational skills). For fifteen years I was a project leader in an IT department. Technology! Organization! Difficult people skills.

Lots of trips to Europe, speak German and dabs of French and Spanish. Hey, I have even read Proust. Ergo, good international skills. Once I even confronted East German customs officials.

Hmmm. What else? Yeah, I'm a mother, but my philosophy of motherhood is that any woman whe can lie still for a few moments can become a mother. Motherhood qualifies you for ah--people skills, detail oriented, well, those have been covered already. Cleaning up vomit doesn't count, does it?

I wrote five books. Granted they are computer crime mysteries, and that and ten cents will get you zilch. But doesn't that show attention to detail and big picture person. As well as someone who can work independently with butt planted in chair?
For the "common touch," I like to garden, pet my cats and I cook up a hell of a meal of fried spam, canned peas and macaroni and cheese from the box.
Onceupon a time I served on the boy scout troup committee. Also a great Books Leader. Oh! I forgot. Sorry, no one reads great books anymore. People read--no, people don't read.
Sheep! I can herd sheep, because I can herd cats. Haven't we become a nation of sheep? BAAA!
My parents passed on a love of watching someone else fish.

Native American Blood! Cherokee and something the Canadian French intermarried with--starts with an "A." Not Abysinnian.

Conservative roots: Mennonites! Another great grandpa rode a mule through North Georgia preaching the gospel. Six uncles in the military, no make that seven. Another uncle built Boeing Bombers as did the aunt. Two uncles worked on the railroad. Mother from Kansas. Grandpa who chased Pancho Villa! On a mule! Obviously no elephants in the family. Hmmm. Same grandpa had a still in North Georgia. Those North Georgian roots are pretty interesting.
My Mom was a personage in Denver Republican politics. Ah, there's the elephant. But I don't think the Republicans would have me. Move over, Joe.

Hey, I got creds, real creds. So how come I haven't been, you know, nominated? What kind of country is this, anyhow?

Think I'll go read some Proust. Yeah.

Grapeshot