IT IS THE TIME...

Just a quick note before going dark for the move - especially since my laptop has well and truly taken a crap on me (this comes to you from the Lord and Master's keyboard) Everytime I open it up a siren sounds for about two minutes then it boots up normally - the keyboard is still wigging out as before, only worse with more keys involved. So it's become a problem to be addressed on the other end and that means being pc-less for at least three weeks - or more.

To make matters more, a-hem, challenging, my busted wing is back in the form of a pinched nerve with accompanying muscle spasms. This has rendered my left arm useless and me moaning and whimpering in pain. Geez. Like I don't need both arms these days.

Oh, and it just started raining....

Anyways, I wish you all well in my absence and will be joining you again from Denver in a few weeks. Best wishes - Dinah.

Dinah joins the Krewe of Iris

Today I sent off my application to ride on a Mardi Gras float in the Krewe of Iris.

I'm totally psyched.

Founded in 1917 and named for the Goddess of the Rainbow and Messenger to the Gods, the Krewe of Iris is now New Orleans' sole parading Carnival organization exclusively for women and the largest ladies' club in Carnival history. The Iris tableau ball was the first such event to ever be televised.

The Krewe prides itself on strictly following the traditional customs of full-length Carnival masks and white gloves.

The Captain of the Krewe of Iris throws her own special 10-guage doubloons...unique items of chartreuse and lavender with freshly-minted 10-guage blue and silver aluminum.

The oldest of female krewes and the largest female parading organization in Carnival history, this krewe takes its name from the Greek goddess of rainbows and messenger to the gods. Iris is known for presenting her court with great finery on a series of mini-floats, as well as her former queen and king who ride in convertible automobiles.

The Krewe's motto: “Pour La Joie de Vivre” (“For the Joy of Living”)

On a personal note...

Dinah is doing Denver!

Yep. We finally sold our house. Finally.

We've found a place just south of Denver so I am in the throes of that packing thing.

Blogging might be lighter than usual over the next few days. Or I might be going at it like a gerbil on crack. You know my blog addiction is severe.

Anywho - back at it. The jihad never sleeps.

Dinah's darkness...

Sorry to have gone MIA so suddenly, possums. A family emergency requiring a trip to the farm arose rather suddenly and as many of my long time readers know, blogging is difficult from there.

It was good to be away for a few days, nice to be in a place where people not only talk about the price of gas, they also dither over the price of corn. Where they worry about it raining on their hayfields, not their parade and life generally runs at a different pace. Whenever I return to the East Coast, I find I am driving too courteously and I am waaay too courteous at the checkout line.

It is a place where the concept of Islamic terror seems far away. No one there was talking about the JFK plot or the missing soldiers or the war. Must be nice to be able to put your blue state blinders on and just live your life, no? You can see where people of that mindset would be buying John Edwards disgraceful bumper sticker schtick.

Well, I'm not buying it.

Back at it.

D

Dinah does DC

Speaking truth to powah.

This afternoon I took the train down to our nation's capitol for a brief visit. (The Lord and Master has business in town.) We're staying right across from the Reagan Building and down from the White House. My trip came up so fast I haven't been able to come up with a game plan of things to see and do yet. I like just walking around and staring at places, people and things. But you know what? I just remembered I have never been to the WW2 Memorial. That should be on the list. And there's always the Smithsonian. I'm always up for some art and history. Surely, I can find something to do there. Tomorrow night is a cocktail party for hubby's bidness and I'm thinking some political types will be showing up. Unfortunately Sam Brownback has already sent his regrets.

More later. Off for a refreshing adult beverage.

Marooned

Kansas City.

at the Airport Marriott in Kansas City. My flight to Jersey has been delayed into infinity.

Maybe I'll have better luck tomorrow.

Maybe not.

sigh.

The thing about Vegas is

You just don't know where to look next, there are so many people to watch and wonder at. Not being much of a gambler, (I am notoriously unlucky) I usually end up sitting somewhere with a refreshing beverage just watching the world go by.

And what a world it is in Vegas.

The birthday party was great fun and the birthday boy was definitely surprised. Another big surprise, while on a trip to the ladies I walked by a table of twelve, good looking and buffed young men. Sitting at the head of the table? Oscar De La Hoya. (He's a cutie.) He's here in Vegas and training for his May 5 bout with Floyd Mayweather (Dinah's secret desire? Getting all dolled up and sitting ringside at a prizefight.)

In Vegas and looking for a good steak and some old style Sin City ambiance? Go here to my brother-in-laws's favorite steak house. (it's where the party was.)

Off to Kansas this morning, hope to be back in the blogging saddle this afternoon. Please check out Scott over at Town Commons or Pamela at Atlas Shrugs until then possums. There's lots going on out there this Monday morning.

I'd also like to give a shout out to new Dinah Lord reader, vegasgal. Welcome, honey.

Viva Las Vegas

Off to Vegas to attend a surprise 50th birthday bash

for my brother-in-law.

God (and technology) willing, I'll be blogging from the road.

Cheers. D

Phew.

Be it ever so humble. There's no place like home, is there? And may I add that it is good to be back fighting the Islamic jihad with you. Now I'm off to see what I've missed.

(And about that prom dress? Mission accomplished.)

Cheers.

Dinah

Blogging will be light for a few days...

Off to the farm to pick up my special niece and her girlfriend. It's going to be a quick trip because we are turning right around and coming back to NYC to do some prom shopping.

Wish me luck and keep fighting the good fight. I will be thanking God every step of the way that we can still shop Macy's, Bloomies and L&T for strapless prom gowns in pretty colors. Not black burkas.

(I do have some posts up this morning over at Maverick.)

Cheers - D

Yo-yo-yo

Dinah's back from her week amongst the moonbats.

You know, I love my friends but sometimes seeing the world through their eyes is just plain frightening. How can they be so unaware of the menace that we are facing? Why do they think their fellow citizens (i.e. anyone not buying into the lib line) are the enemy and then go on to ignore our true foe, the Islamists?

Dinah spins just thinking of it. Thank goodness for being able to lite-blog. It really allowed me to maintain my sanity and my 30 plus year friendship

You know what they say:

Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver, the other gold.

Now, let's go fight some jihadis....

Oops - almost forgot. Hot car sightings while rolling in the Escalade. A vintage Morgan convertible in British racing green, complete with wicker basket strapped on the trunk. A creamy (and dreamy)beige Rolls Royce Silver Spur II. A Jeep Jeepster tucked away in the corner of a three bay gas station garage. It was cherry!

Buckhead Society Gringa

Charlotte not only works down on the farm, she also has a high powered job in the big city that requires her presence three days a week. She telecommutes the rest of the time. It's a good gig but she works her ass off and has a lot of responsibility. I salute her longevity - I burned myself to a professional crisp years ago but she has been able to keep on going like some kind of Eveready Bunny. God love her. So right now I am coming to you from one of those suite hotel places in Atlanta. Charlotte is toiling in her office, The Squire is getting in the last load of birds and I am blogging on a pc down in the lobby.

About the birds: The chicks come in crates on semis. The crates are lowered onto a flatbed trailer attached to a pick up and then driven into the house where they are unloaded, crate by crate. All 180,000 of them.

About that immigration thing: Yesterday, I decide to find a car wash. Found one. Did some errands, blah, blah, blah. Got turned around and ended up coming the wrong way off the freeway. To get going in the right direction I turned into a street directly across from the hotel to undertake an around-the-block maneuver.

The street led into the parking lot for an abandoned Home Depot store. A store which had been evidently been abandoned in favor of one up the block. Yes, a newer Home Depot store was right up the way. That must explain why the parking lot had been taken over by a large group of day workers, 50 or so Hispanic and Black men of varying ages. Some of them looked heartbreakingly young, others so aged (or drunk) they looked like they could hardly stand up. It was about 2 pm. There was a guy pushing a cart that some kind of Guatemalan/Italian ice deal. I'm sure you've seen these guys in Latino neighborhoods. The parking lot was trashed. Garbage was strewn all over and there was clearly no place to go to the bathroom. You know what that means in the eyes of the citizen of the third world:

"Your world is my toilet."

Dis-gusting.

My brother (God rest his soul) had his own landscaping business outside of San Diego. He used day laborers and told me the thing to do when picking somebody out of crowd of them was to look at their feet and pick out the one with the best work boots.

Well, there was a crowd gathering but I didn't have time to check out their boots. I was afraid I was going to hit someone. Guys were walking out in the street, holding their hands out and saying something I couldn't quite make out. I was just trying to find my way out of the place. But first, I had to go past the housing complex where it looked like a lot of the guys must have been living. It was also trashed with lots of men standing around looking at me.

And there I was looking for all the world like a Buckhead society matron. (Or would that be GRINGA?) None of them seem surprised that a 50+ broad, rolling in an Escalade would hire someone off the street corner. I found that odd. And disturbing.

All I could think of was Charlotte and her immigration policy. I couldn't WAIT to bring this one up over dinner. I also got worried. She is a woman traveling alone and the parking garage for the hotel is probably only 350 feet from this place. Not that far for a creepy perv at all. This is not good.

Our conversation went just like I thought it would. I brought up the safety angle - she pooh-poohed me. Saying loftily, "those places are always trouble free." I mentioned the fact that the men were walking out INTO THE STREET and hollering at me. She changed the subject: "I meant to tell you to be careful there's a man around who targets women and takes their jewelry." "Oh, is he Hispanic," I purred. She ignored me.

If Charlotte had only asked my thoughts on immigration I would have told her. That won't happen though. Like most libs I seem to know, the opinions of others aren't that important to her.

So I will tell you. I'm for strong immigration laws and enforcement of those laws. I support the creation of a wall along our southern flank. (I thought the whole idea of the "Minutemen" was great.) Regarding the creation of a temporary worker program? I'm all for it.

Before you go, "Whaaaaa?"

I say to you: Remember Elian Gonzalez. Remember the hue and cry that was raised when he was sent back to Cuba. Think about that scene and multiply it by 12 million. There's not a politician in the country that wants to be responsible for that scene being played out in the MSM 12 million times.

Ain't. Gonna. Happen.

Shut down the borders. Register the ones that are here and try to give them a path to citizenship. Don't play by the rules? Commit a crime? Hasta la vista, baby.

And about those day laborers? Why don't they pick up their trash and plant a garden while they are waiting????

Walking on Eggshells

around the farm this morning.

The Squire has gotten up in arms because he's got a problem with his cable bill and he was forced to speak to the cable company's customer service rep. A rep who lives in Calcutta. Don't say anything about the blacks or hispanics but in the world of these liberals Asians, Jews and now, Indians are fair game.

He's also ticked about the Confederate Heritage Month debate raging in the Georgia legislature and local op-ed pages of their newspapers. He doesn't believe the glorious South's past should be glorified and feels they should be focusing on current events, not events of 200 years ago. Dinah doesn't really have a dog in this fight, but tends to agree with him on the latter statement.

Still no word on when the birds arrive yet. Just a few things left to do to get ready for their arrival but The Squire has other business to attend to - he is also Mayor of the small town they live in and he is kept plenty busy with that!

Charlotte wanders into my room where I have surreptiously tuned the TV to the Fox News Channel. (I'm jonesing for news on Iraq and the Islammos - it all seems very far away here on the farm.) She looks at the screen and horror flashes across her face. "You watch Fox News?" "Yes, I do," was my sweet reply. She scoffed at me, then left the room.

Hah-hah.

About breakfast: Charlotte and I throw on our clothes, glide on the lipstick, slip on the shades and jump in the pick up truck to go over to the local Dixie diner for a half dozen egg sandwiches (and more Red Bull.) The sandwiches are a delight. FRESH eggs scrambled just right, country ham, smoky and salty to taste, slightly charred at the edges from the grill. Melty 'hoop' cheese with homemade biscuits light as air. Wowser.

The call arrives. The first load of birds will be here tomorrow morning at 5:00 am.

Time to get busy. There's lunch and supper coming up! It's also laundry day. Lots of laundry here on the farm.

Oh, and did you know Wal-Mart was evil? I didn't either.

The Opening Salvo

It's been busy here on the farm. Birds are to begin arriving on Tuesday morning so the weekend was spent getting the 'houses' ready. (Football field in size, they are called chicken 'houses' as opposed to barns, coops or even Palais de Poulet, the name of Martha Stewart's chicken house.) This involves moving the tons of nasty, stinking chicken litter from the last flock and replacing it with fresh clean sawdust. It's quite an operation that requires men, muscle and machinery and there was plenty of that.

Even Charlotte and I got into the act. Our duties: The feeding and watering of a five person crew. We fixed breakfast: Fluffy, farm fresh eggs, crispy bacon, grits and light as air biscuits were served. We brewed pots of hot coffee and had Red Bull for the younger set. We fixed lunch: Sandwiches with a chilled red bean and rice salad so good it makes you want to holler. (MMM. Charlotte is a world class southern cook. Email me for the recipe!) We did cold beer and Red Bull runs. Then we fired up the smoker and started fixing supper before going to bed and doing it all over again.

As you can imagine the idea of an adult beverage and some relaxing conversation is much appreciated after that kind of day. Unless you're trying to avoid all discussion of politics, that is. Then the consumption of adult beverages is like throwing gasoline on a flickering fire.

Well, Charlotte had already had a couple of glasses of wine (Clos du Val Chardonnay) before firing off the opening salvo. It was a glorious rant about the government's involvement in victimless crimes like pot-smoking, prostitution and wait for it...IMMIGRATION. This spiraled into an indictment of hapless Alberto Gonzalez and a withering diatribe against George W. Bush and lying. I let her rant - sometimes I find it amusing to see just how far people are willing to go these days. Okay, I admit it. I even egg them on, Just a little bit.

Libs are very angry people.

They are so funny sometimes, too.

Supper was at a long trestle table in their cozy, farm kitchen. Delicious cedar smoked salmon, was served with steamed asparagus and a wonderful lemony dill rice on the side. It was during dinner that the topic of immigration reared its ugly head again.

Charlotte's husband - let's call him The Squire, has just returned from a deep sea fishing trip to Costa Rica. During supper I listened to all the details of his trip. It sounded like a helluva lot of fun. Dinah has done some deep sea fishing in her day and she was very interested in hearing about his 250 lb Black Marlin catch. The Squire is now enthralled with Costa Rica and is now looking at villa properties there. Part of the reason for his enchantment?

Wait for it...

THEIR STRICT IMMIGRATION POLICIES!!!

So, let me make sure I understand this. Charlotte would willingly open our borders to all and sundry, turning this country into a third world shithole while swanning off to her Costa Rican villa with their strictly enforced immigration policy.

Typical leftie hypocrisy.

The irony of this situation is deeper than 5 million pounds of chicken litter. And after this weekend at the farm I can tell you that's pretty damn deep.


More later - Dinah

Rolling In the Escalade....

It's good to be out of the frozen north. Sorry to hear about that big storm brewing up there. I started seeing signs of spring about Roanoke where the Bradford pears and the daffodils are all in bloom. Weather was rainy and foggy pretty much the whole way and there trucks galore on the route. The Shenandoah valley with all of its history and battlefields was beautiful. The Smoky Mountains looked gloomy and well, smoky. There were signs of redbud on the trees around Mt. Airy and little leafy sprigs started to appear at the South Carolina line. Ginormous traffic snarls around Charlotte and Atlanta. Hottest car seen yet this trip? A gun-metal gray Maserati. It was smoking hot.

I love this country...

Road Trip!

I'm scurrying around here this morning trying to round up the entourage and get ready to fire up the Lordmobile for an exciting roadtrip.

About my destination: The deep south and the belly of the beast, a gracious home where I'll be surrounded by Dixie moonbats of the bluest stripe. I will be visiting an old friend who lives on a HUGE chicken farm about 2 hours out of Atlanta and near the Alabama line for a few days.

About my friend. Her name is Charlotte and we have been buds for over 30 years. Politics never was an issue for us until 9/11. After 9/11 the scales fell from my political eyes and changed my outlook completely. Alas, that didn't happen for Charlotte (who is a fullblown sufferer of BDS) and our political conversation have become quite rude as of late. We almost came to blows during the Hurricane Katrina fiasco. Wish me luck - I hope I don't get booted because of my wingnut views!

About blogging: It's going to be light because I don't think I'll be able to get my laptop working. (SOB) Thank goodness for all my new friends at Maverick News Media. Because of them all of my dear readers will have lots of juicy content to savor.

Holy Creeping Sharia! Fausta has this piece on Dolce & Gabbana's decision to pull their ads in Spain because of censorship. Creative freedom is the first to go, folks.

The Watcher catches this worthy read about the Islamicization of Antwerp.

Klein Verzet breaks down the recent riots in the Netherlands. There's an interesting twist on this one.

Scott over at Town Commons will keep rounding it up for you so check him out on a regular basis.

I'm already jonesing about not having a computer.