Friday, July 24, 2009

Another Day Older...

Birthdays, being regular occurrences, are always milestones. Often they are turning points and, when we are blessed, they are celebrations. Today I enjoyed all three attributes of birthdays. Twenty years ago today, my mother and I read together from A.A. Milne's book, Now We Are Six. Well, today we are twenty-six, and we couldn't be happier.

As Diana says, twenty-five may be the quarter century mark, but twenty-six is when you start rounding up. In terms of other benchmarks, sixteen may be the year you can drive, but seventeen is the year you really start figuring it out. Twenty-one is the year you can legally drink, but twenty-two is (hopefully) the year you learn that we need not settle for Keystone. What does it mean, then, to be twenty-six? Perhaps by this time, one is married to the love of one's life, and plans to start a family sooner than later. Perhaps one has purchased their first home, and delights in adding the touches that put the own in owning. Perhaps one has spent the summer learning their profession, and finding out that justice happens each and every day. And perhaps one can pause for a moment, glace around, and see twenty-six years worth of friends and loved ones walking right alongside. Such a one would be moved by the countless blessings he has been given.

I should mention that the title of this post is a reference to the song "Sixteen Tons," and the line "another day older and deeper in debt." Not only am I older today, but with help from the government we added to our considerable indebtedness by purchasing a 2010 Toyota Corolla LE. Better mileage and safety are only two of the many benefits, but more on the car later. No you may not drive it, but you may place an offer on the '91 Escort we still own.

What else did I do today? I cleaned the garage, and D and I went to the dump. We ate Chipotle, and saw Bruno. I answered about a million facebook messages, and Diana brought home delicious cupcakes. And of course, the gifts! Observe:

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Tailored for a Lawyer

I recently rediscovered an old favorite time waster of mine - once only available on computer cd, now readily accessible via a series of tubes - You Don't Know Jack. One mini game, Dis or Dat "Pant Suits" made my day (as a non-law student):

¡Más vacas! ¡Está muy loco!

So my mom's other gigantic barnyard pet, Pearl the Cow, had her calf last night. The madness won't end! How am I supposed to eat this much beef? Oh wait...fajitas, brisket, burgers, sausage, prime rib, sirloin, ribeye, filet...the list just goes on!

This little girl's name is Daisy. As I said on the twitter, this new addition brings the total cute food quotient at Rancho Del Davis to an astounding 8.7 kilo-kittens (using the ALF scale). Seriously, though, we had hoped at least one of the two calves would be male so we could sell or eat it. At least that was the plan, but the way my mom keeps naming these animals (and the way I keep blogging about them) they're all going to end up as pets. Very hungry, expensive pets.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Baby Peg--The Cutest Little Chunk of Veal Ever

If you saw my tweet/status update yesterday, you already know that I am an unlicensed large animal veterinarian, specializing in bovine neo-natal care. Translation: Sadie the cow had a calf up in Denton two nights ago, and I had to go out in the field to give it some shots and stuff.

I thought readers might be interested in a pic of baby Peg, as we're calling her, because she is super cute and probably delicious. Yes, she is a she, you sicko...the umbilical cord just hasn't fallen off yet.

Best Peg story so far is how I got fed up with trying to stick needles into her out in the dark pasture, so I distracted mama with some feed and stole her baby. I had gotten about 100 yards toward the brightly lit barn when Peg started flailing in my arms and mooing. Mama looked up from her feed bucket like she'd been shot and promptly charged my location. Imagine a rodeo clown trying to do his thing in short and flip-flops whilst also carrying 60 pounds of veal. Unlike this fellow, I got out unscathed. BBQ invitations are in the mail.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

It Begins--With RoboMonkeys

It begins today. Our long, slow descent into the Terminator future commenced yesterday in Pittsburgh. Mind control monkey cyborgs? Which bozo mad scientist thought this was a good idea?! I'm not surprised that "Sky News" broke the story, given that outlet's obvious connection to the SkyNet project. Researchers claim these devices will someday help stroke victims and quadriplegics. Yeah, help them and the machines overrun civilization and turn us into Duracells. I saw The Matrix too, evil monkeybots!

UPDATE: It's worst than I could have imagined--Upcoming Military Robot Could Feed on Dead Bodies! Good God!

Monday, July 13, 2009

What Sotomayor With You?

Thus far I've held my tongue on Obama's first high court nomination, primarily because I'm not as well informed on these matters as I used to be. (Go ahead, ask me about the last two appointments when you've got some time to kill) But, since her confirmation hearings start today, I think it's time I had my say.

First off, Sotomayor's certainly not the worst nomination we could have expected from the Big O. Obama knows he'll have more appointments down the line, and he's saving his big caliber liberal ammo for those showdowns. She's liberal, but she's not some kind of San-Fran nutcase. To the contrary, by all indications she's someone with principled opinions I just happen to largely disagree with. Secondly, she's not even the worst replacement for Souter that we could have expected. She's far more interesting, and less creepy. the man lives in a remote woodland cabin, for God's sake! (the linked photo is the actual Souter abode--dungeon not pictured) And again, from her opinions, it looks like she bases her decisions much more on settled law than many conservative commentators would like us to believe.

However, where there's smoke, there's fire. Unlike some of my fellow right-wingers, I don't think that Sotomayor's infamous 2001 comment about a "wise latina" making better decisions than a stodgy old white guys is an apocalyptic omen of her future decisions. Most of the soundbites take the remark out of context and thus distort her meaning. But even if she meant what her supporters seem to say she meant, that racial diversity on the bench is necessary to reach fair decisions, are we OK with that? Doesn't this raise a valid question as to whether, as one pundit put it, she'll put her "thumb on the scale" for minority litigants? I think it does, and I hope she has a good response for the Judiciary Committee today. Especially with respect to the Ricci reverse-discrimination case.

If stodgy old white guys are incapable of rendering a truly fair decision because they lack a certain flavor of experience that being a poor latina brings, our judicial system is already up a creek. Taking Sotomayor's presumed view to its logical conclusion, only judcial race quotas can ensure that our courts issue the "wise" decisions. In the year 2009, shouldn't the law be able to recognize the positions litigants find themselves in without reference to their race, or the race of the judge? Maybe not out in bayou, but certainly in federal court. Don't get me wrong, I am ecstatic about a woman, and a latina to boot, on the Court. But to place her their because she's latina, or because she's a woman is antithetical to the rule of law. Yet it seems that Sotomayor supports exactly this type of affirmative action on and off the bench. Her 2001 Berkley speech isn't exactly a dealbreaker, but it let's us know what to expect from this and future Obama nominees.

PS-In the photo above, doesn't Judge Sotomayor look kind of like a cross between Hamad Karzai and Evo Morales? Probably just that weird smock thing she's got on--its like if your grandma crocheted a gown for an Cambridge don.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Dog Days of Summer

I know Jesse has talked some about our 2 dogs on his blog, but since I tend to over-introduce everyone...have you met Sandy and Rufus?

With Jesse gone this Summer and with my Summer work schedule, the dogs are starting to get a little needy. Honestly, it's more like Fatal Attraction at the Davis house lately. It started with me turning around and one or both of the dogs laying down staring at me...creepily. Then the messages at work started...

Hmm. Odd. And then they started staying out at my room. Yes, this is when things get weird. No, but seriously, the dogs have always been crated during the day...they were pound puppies and always wanted to go in their crates...kind of like a "safety zone" (if you want to use fancy dancy technical terms), not unlike the Danger Zone but very unlike the Safety Dance. It's like the Godfather always said, "Leave the hats, take the airplanes." Yeah, he never said that.

Anyways, so Sandy the Dog hates the crate now. It is the saddest, most pathetic scene in the morning...and it doesn't help that she is such a submissive dog already. It started a couple of weeks ago, with her slowly, her head hanging, getting in the crate and not eating the biscuit. Like, maybe if I don't eat the biscuit, they won't make me stay in here. Then last week she started just not going in immediately. Standing in the kitchen, like "I didn't hear you, haha." Then it became laying in the kitchen, rolling over begging. Then the latter plus dead dog/limp body not moving and me having to lift her up and put her in the crate. Now it has escalated to the latter, but she goes and lays on her soft pillow bed and gives me the Bolt begging look:

Then she won't move. Not for anything. Food? No. Baby talk? No. Force? Definitely no. So, again, as I am running late for work, I have to pick her up and put her in the crate. I have had to change my phone number and the locks on the doors from all this dog stalkery. Sandy has also been jumping up on the kitchen counter...I'm pretty sure she's scouting out the knives. Yikesers.