Where have I been? Well, most assuredly, not here at the Gumbo blog. I haven’t written a scrap on the blog in months, save for a plea for mammon yesterday for needy kids. See yesterday’s post if you care to help.
I have no excuse. Nothing. Nada.
I write. I began a journal as a Lenten exercise. I didn’t stop at the Resurrection. I have seventy odd pages in a secure place.
I am tutoring: children and adults. I teach Spanish for gringos; English for others. I have foreign students, such as Japanese, French, and Brazilians.
Bubu, my German Shepherd, died this fall. He was old. No pain.
Now, I have a foster who may be adopted tomorrow. Rosa is a mature girl, 6 1/2 years old. She’s active and happy. If the prospective family fails to take her, consider adopting Rosa.
If you don’t receive a Christmas card from me, consider this picture as your personal card.
I hope to write more about future plans in 2017. I am bored with the RWPs (rich white people) in the US. My self-imposed hermitage must end.
I wrote a few posts over the past month or so about riding in cars with sisters. Today, I will not be writing about sisters. My sisters are employed full-time and have busy lives with husbands and children. They are far too busy for road trips with me. One just got back from a trip to the Promised Land, i.e. Texas. That’s the term that we in Louisiana use when referring to Texas.
Texas is the land where the roads have more pavement than potholes, and the politicians tend to avoid federal prison. Over yonder, young people finish high school. It’s a Biblical nirvana of milk and honey when compared to Louisiana
Instead of my sisters, I am traveling the highways with my German Shepherd. He’s old. He’s cranky. He’s loud.
When we’re in the car, he often hangs his head out of the window, tongue wagging and ears flapping in the breeze. Since he’s cranky, he’s inclined to do more than enjoy the sunshine. He barks.
He barks unusually loud. People’s reflexes are good in Louisiana, by and large, as I see old people jump up several feet and lunge for safety when Bubu lets out a bark.
When I reach 55 miles per hour in the Hyundai, he pulls his head inside the car. He leans back on his haunches, and we talk. Often, we talk politics and religion – two subjects I try to avoid with humans.
Today, we headed towards bayou country. Bubu proffered that he’s uncomfortable with David Vitter, the Republican candidate for governor of Louisiana. My dog surfs cable TV when I’m gone for the day.
He’s not liking Vitter’s ads. In fact, my dog is offended. One of the candidate’s ads featured a German Shepherd thanking David Vitter for his work in the Senate to outlaw dog fights.
“I can hold my own, ” says Bubu. “I don’t need a US Senator to fight my battles.” I reckon he’s right. I have seen it twice – pit bulls running from the mighty jaws of my 100 pound fur-beast.
“Well,” I told my furry friend, “I think David Vitter won’t win. We’ll see tomorrow night after the polls close. He’s failed to capture the good will of the people of Louisiana, let alone the dogs.”
BuBu believes that dogs and humans should be more authentic.
“Don’t send us to doggie spas or doggie day-care,” he said. “Just toss us a cow femur or a deer antler once in awhile.”
We agreed that humans should act like humans, too, not like, you know, pets.
“It’s high time,” I said to BuBu, “that we let go of fear of other humans. Whether the man or woman is Christian, Muslim, Arab or French, we should strive for peace.
BuBu read on Facebook today (yes he’s got his own account*) that the Canadians aren’t afraid of Syrian refugees. Canada is moving forward to welcome 25,000 Syrians by the end of the year. Folks, that’s just six weeks away.
Well, which is the Promised Land? Where should the Dog and I go for a Christmas holiday? Texas or Canada?