I first fell in love with her Crystal Singer books, and then… I escaped into Pern and stayed there a very long time.  She provided me with more hours of entertainment than I can ever calculate, and was the first woman scifi/fantasy writer I ever read.  Her death was not untimely or unexpected – she was 85 years old. Still, it feels like a loss.

Added: Foxfier comments, “I still get teary-eyed thinking about the Masterharper’s death.”  I do too.

I can’t be the father of an 8-year-old girl. I’m 16, playing Pac-Man at the bowling alley in Londonderry, NH. I’m 15 in the middle of a “couples skate” at Spinning Wheels roller rink. I’m 14 playing Jumpman on my next door neighbor’s Commodore 128. I still buy Hot Wheels at the supermarket. I still don’t understand girls. I’m not a good dancer. I buy too many jackets. I don’t have any of the answers a dad should have.

Maybe none of us do.

Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign, one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance commits his body
To painful labor both by sea and land,
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe,
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks and true obedience—
Too little payment for so great a debt.
[...]
Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
But that our soft conditions and our hearts
Should well agree with our external parts?

Painful labor, indeed. And I definitely cop to the “soft and weak and smooth, unapt to toil.”

I’m sure, in a country of 300 million people, there are women roofers. (More power to you, hon.)  As for me and my house, I will serve inside as much as possible, in decently conditioned air.  Well, I say that, but when it’s time to put the siding up I’ll be out there again. I can’t keep up with the men, but I can help some, and I will. Still, I’d be remiss not to say how much they impressed me, getting this job done in a heat index that often exceeded 100 degrees.  And the construction proceeds apace…

In the meantime, the construction on my home addition continues apace.  We’ll spend a good deal of the weekend shingling.  I’ve noticed that this is the only construction going on anywhere in the neighborhood.  The Gulf Coast economy is still suffering from Obama’s permitorium. The fact that it’s unofficial isn’t making the pain of it any less – in fact I’d say the unofficial nature of it adds insult to injury.

If nothing else, construction has cured me of any lingering vanity I retained at age 43. There was a time, not so very long ago, when I would not so much have gone to the grocery store without being presentably dressed, with my hair at least decently groomed and my face made up. Now it’s not quite full-on POWM territory, but I can see that on the horizon. Well, this is just a season we’re in. I keep telling myself that, at least. When it’s all over, I think I’ll go do something girly like have a spa day.

The winnowing process imposed on us by the construction has been… instructive.  Where does the time and money go? Every decision is a crucial one these days.  And our prayer and devotional lives have suffered. The parable of building our house on the sand comes to mind, especially since the concrete foundation literally was poured onto the sand.  (Sand is the customary fill under houses around here.)

Does it count as devotional time if I sing “Blessed Be Your Name” to myself while I work on the roof? And yet I know God’s not keeping a scoresheet of my ratio of devotional to non-devotional minutes of the day.  To the contrary, every single minute is to be lived for God’s glory and that’s a standard I will never, can never, meet.  Thank God for grace and mercy, and for the construction project He is undergoing in me – one infinitely harder than a simple mother-in-law suite.

If you’re feeling sufficiently nostalgic, you can play it here.

What’s an evangelical Christian doing, wishing you a happy Mardi Gras? In New Orleans, the way Carnival season (the lead up to Mardi Gras, or Fat Tuesday, which is the day before the Catholic holiday of Ash Wednesday) is celebrated has about as much to do with pagan tradition as your average trick or treater has to do with traditional pagan celebrations of Samhain.

When I say “Happy Mardi Gras!” I’m celebrating capitalism, baby. This is a HUGE event that brings in millions of honestly earned dollars. And boy, do we need it, given how Obama has brutally attacked the Gulf Coast economy with his permitorium. I also enjoy the fact that Mardi Gras is steeped in the history and tradition of the most fascinating city in America. The music is fabulous, especially the marching bands. Nobody beats St. Augustine – those kids work hard and they are incredible.

Does the behavior of many participants glorify God? Of course not. Since when does a lost world glorify God? Does it celebrate sin? As part of a lost world which celebrates sin all day, every day, yes it does. But for a lot of participants, Mardi Gras is about taking the kids out to a parade with pretty floats, great music, and a fun atmosphere. We all have to make choices every day about how we spend our time and what kind of entertainment we partake.  Mardi Gras is not only what happens in the French Quarter; for much of the city it is very much a family event.

You know what also doesn’t glorify Him? The street preachers who march around telling people they’re going to hell.

Speaking of those street preachers, I would also like to note that Grant Storms, one of the prime instigators of the local street “preaching” on Mardi Gras and Southern Decadence, was arrested this week on an obscenity charge. He was parked in a van near a playground, facing the children, and seen by the two women who reported him to have his hands in his pants – apparently masturbating.  He denies masturbating, claiming that he was urinating in a bottle. (Police report here.) I know that park – and Storms lives a couple of blocks from it and it’s a safe bet he knows it too. There is a public restroom about 30 seconds away from where he was parked.

Back to the topic of street preaching – of course they have the right to do it, and I support that right. But does that work, ever? Do signs like this ever lead to anyone becoming a committed disciple of Christ?

And for those who insist on carrying signs like this – for pity’s sake, check your spelling! Femanists? Jehova? Glutons? That’s just sad.

In any event, it’s still a free country and I support the Mardi Gras street preachers’ right to be idiots just like the idiots who are out there drinking themselves senseless and fighting over some cheap plastic beads – to say nothing of the families who are out there having picnics on the neutral grounds of New Orleans and just enjoying the music and pageantry.

Happy Mardi Gras!

But in light of something I wrote several days ago, I want to acknowledge the story.  I spent the weekend moving my office, and didn’t even hear about the shooting until late Saturday night.  Sunday we worked on getting the new office set up but once I had my computer back I caught up on the story via a few blogs, especially Patterico, Ace, and Hot Air.  Just a few days ago, I railed against the GOP spinelessness in cutting the budget in response to a Patterico post which expressed his frustration – which led to his thoughts of an armed insurrection as being “something understandable, rather than something we should calmly denounce.”  I wrote – feeling the same frustration -

This is the sort of dirty little secret you don’t say out loud, especially if you’re a Christian.  I know that.  But I’ll say it anyway, even though I’ll likely regret it later: there’s a reason why Vince Flynn’s book Term Limits was so popular.  Because deep down, a whole lot of us would not be too sorry if assassins killed three members of Congress and then delivered an ultimatum to the rest: stop deficit spending and balance the budget or we’ll kill some more of you, and keep killing until you people finally learn.

Deep down, quite a few of us would cheer.  Sure, we’d have qualms about murder, and we’d be glad if the assassins were caught… eventually.  Would we settle for voting them out?  Sure – but thanks to all the advantages incumbents have, that’s next to impossible.  And when our own party wavers between being ineffectual and outright betrayal, it makes elections feel pretty futile.

The left is fond of threatening violence, and they attribute violence to the right all the time, but by and large, we’re a very peaceful bunch.  We feel a bit guilty about even enjoying the idea because at the most basic level, we don’t want to resort to violence; we believe in the system and want it to work.  But like Patterico, I’m saying I’d understand.   God help the prosecutor if I were on a jury for a case like this.

Unlike Kos, I won’t sweep that down the memory hole. For the record, I’m definitely not cheering what actually happened. Also for the record, what actually happened has nothing in common with the plot of Flynn’s book or what I admitted I would guiltily feel some sympathy for if someone ever did it. In real life, we have a madman who lacked a coherent political philosophy. He apparently liked both Ayn Rand and the Communist Manifesto.  He’s a Truther.  It’s unclear what goals he had beyond killing innocent people, but people who know him say he’s been crazy and scary for a long time.  He was in no way acting out Flynn’s suspense novel, which included a team of former American commandos who were not crazy, but were targeting specific politicians for a specific political purpose and who were very careful not to harm innocents.  There is no more connection to that book – or anyone’s enjoyment of it – than there was between enjoyment of Tom Clancy’s book Debt of Honor where Congress and most of “official” Washington were killed by a plane willfully flown into the Capitol building and the attacks via hijacked planes on 9/11.

Thank God for dilaudid. That is an amazing, awesome medication. We should have a parade in honor of the inventor. And celebrate his birthday every year. (Yes, the pain was that bad, and the relief correspondingly incredible.) Also oxycodone, to which I stepped down after the dilaudid.

Thank God for medical technology and testing, and a system under which I was able to avail myself of both, very quickly. If I were Canadian, I’d probably still be waiting for the tests which provided the answer.  Ah, the wonders of “free.”

Thank God for pharmaceutical companies and the capitalist system under which they develop and distribute drugs. Is it perfect? No. Is it better than what any other country currently offers? Yes, a resounding YES.

I’ll be fine, though I’m a bit grumpy after going most of the year with almost no medical expenses, and then meeting our $5,000 deductible in mid-November. Well, comme ci, comme ça… call it 2% grumpy and 98% grateful, because in spite of the unexpected, it’s been a really good week. I have a lot to be thankful for.

Regular blogging will resume mañana, an announcement which I’m sure will relieve the minds of dozens of people.