I am a “civilian” now. But this childhood that I shared with my brother and our many friends, has built a solid base for a creative person. This I continue to strive to be, even in my senior years. I love my country and I love Texas. For an artist, these days and times, that is pretty strange.What I criticise in my art, is meant in humour- not to offend. And I am an equal opportunity offender.

I have Virginian, Powhatan Indian Blood in my veins,from my father’s side of my genetics, several generations have diluted this, but it comes out more times than it rationally should.

Yes, this war we are helping to fight has been going on for thousands of years in that same part of the World. Yet now, we hope and pray. that our presence there, along with our advanced technological weaponry and our truly finely trained soldiers might effect that area of Planet Earth in a way that the last couple of thousands of years could not do.

WWII had clearly defined enemies: the German Nazis and the Japanese.That it did not last longer than it did was due to the tenacity and the ”sheer-D” guts of our American Troops and our Allies, and the deterrents provided by  a couple of Humongous Bombs in Japan.You may think of this as a cliche, however our true enemies in both of these long lasting Wars have been the same: Terror and Tyranny, and how do we stop those.

Please note that many of my best friends are young, street smart, and self-educated and/or curious as to History and Governmental issues. That’s a lot different than the group I inadvertainly described in the first of this blog. Also, as I have become somewhat of a ”Facebook addict”, that is prof that many users of Facebook certainly are not young.

She started cursing and calling me names when I tried to take her picture, so I’ll remember her from my real childhood as the Doll who was my true best friend. She said she was tired of watching the birds with Elmo…and just wanted to sit around. Her Head hangs strangely to the side. But she still has that little all-knowing smile.

Betty Jane

Anyway, as noted, Betty Jane worked herself out of her box, after which she promptly stated ‘there were doll stands on sale at the discount store,so why could she not have a benign role in our lives,as after all she was just as much of a disabled dweeb as I was?’  (Good point,I agree) She refused to cease and desist with her demand, until a stand she could lean on was obtained for her comfort. She had more than made up for her offenses,if any, as a ‘rebel rouser’,and so what if she’s an old Doll?  Who in Hell is “Vampire Barbie”, or the latest ‘American Idol’ Doll, anyway? They should just wait for their 15 minutes of fame to vanish and move aside. I must admit Betty Jane was a classic, and she probably deserved the ”stand” suitable for a toppling older Doll and one of those new weird Barbie-like doll’s as well.  For all is to the better with this new set-up and attitude in the study now. There are still many interesting things going on in this world and Betty Jane took to her  new look-out on Elmo the cat’s nook, overlooking the bird-feeder with great dignity and a secret smirk on her little mouth.

Thanks to her perseverance and patience,we have all enjoyed watching Elmo’s outside world.  And It is true that we still have Morning Doves here, but the black capped vitreos are supposedly already passed through to the South.  Too bad that, they have been seen to get tipsy on the fermented pyracantha berries and make a mad display in the bird bath. Always a good show indeed.  We have had some cold nights but no freezes yet. The Star Trek Action figures have taken a hike, but we now enjoy watching the real people outside as they frantically try to obtain physical fitness by walking, running and cycling outdoors by our curbside. All this before the Holidays eat the year away and a new one begins!

We have a new mail personage. Now that Mr.Miller, our infamous mail man of 18 years superlative service in our neighborhood, has been promoted.

As strange as this seems: His (the new mail personage’s) replacement’s name is Mr. Miller.

This we take as a sign,  a good one.

Caroline Abbitt Sauer  aka  Kay Buena  (Chief Birdwatcher, Managing Personal Assistant of things going awry in the night) 11-30-2011

KayBuena, aka Caroline Abbitt Sauer, 11-29,2011

     The back of the mail truck looked as smashed as roadkill.  And Some of the mail had escaped in the wind. The particular mail box-edifice of the residence where the girls had swerved into while commandeering the mail truck had collided with same in a most un-seemly way.  There was now just a super smashed-sideways mail box and a large pile of bricks where once stood the house’s matching mail station.  The mail truck was still running with the keys  still inside, when the resident came home from work.  He called the post office and Mr.Miller and his mail truck were once again reunited.  Which just goes to show that these strange stories sometimes have a rational ending.

   Betty Jane, Kay Buena, Data (or Lor?),and Elmo had a tendency to get the wrong impression about some everyday occurrences.  Personally, I liked the other ending where Lor used his phaser, but that’s just me.  And if I don’t watch out, they might put me in a box with the acid free tissue paper like was done with my 58 year old doll, Betty Jane as she was unfairly blamed for the chaos of the missing mail truck.  Along with her general trouble making, her eternal rubber band was beginning to stretch to the point where  she was having trouble sitting up or standing.  And speaking of coincidental metaphorical situations, that sounds more and more like my symptoms.

   So, untill the occassion calls for an “out there” blogger, I”ll put the whole crew on another endeavor, like producing some funky rock and roll, or country music. Heck, All I have going for me really is a wild imagination and a Texas Accent, not that that is a bad thing, as you know.

MP3 

I’m gonna sit on the verandah and drink myself a Mai Tai
I’m a sunburned Haole, no one knows that better than I
I got the smile on my face of a person who knows
I got a front row seat when Kilauea blows
This morning I’m living on Maui time

We got fresh Kona coffee, there’s a place beside a big palm tree
Where tropical birds fly high across a turquoise sea
Jet lagged tourists all wait in a line
For the sky to turn purple � suits ‘em just fine
This morning I’m living on Maui time

Copyright 1995 Caroline Abbitt Sauer

The faraway place where Elmo was used to looking out the window, and yearning to join, seemed much too active for him in reality,well more or less but particularly without taking in nourishment.  And as with most cats the intense magnitude of new smells and his ability to freely walk about  in the out-side world, especially as there was so much more to it than imagined, was over whelming.  He thought it prudent to enter with great haste directly into the front flowers bed where he hunkered down and hid.  There were some odd sounds that he experienced, the cars rushing by were less than ideal, but there were some of the birds coming and going, that recognized and knew him to be the cat who only watched from the inside.  His sudden outdoor appearance set the cardinals and  mocking birds into a tizzy, emergency bird calls were coming from the trees and from the many flying little wrens, also strange and fascinating insects were flying above him. Some he remembered to have that weird buzzing sounds like out of the old lady’s ‘noise machine’ she turned on every night for resting and sleeping like it was yesteryear and it was common practice to keep the windows open on a coolish, Texas night.  But,  What a day!  He discovered a lizard and gave it the evil eye.  And he found a couple of bugs that seemed good to eat.  Well, who knows about whats good to eat out here, but he figured he’d give it a try.

Betty Jane and Data took off down the pathway closer to the houses to the north of the sidewalk.  It would be a strange sight, indeed,  if they strolled casually down the side walk like some  of the walkers. Our house is on the top of a straight cut off hill, and the road runs almost horizontal, so people come from where ever to “work out” and walk in some most incredible styles and in astonishing out-fits and lots of bikers, riding bicycles not motorcycles, some with the nerve to wear yellow jerseys, but I’m betting they were not the infamous Lance Armstrong.  Who knows, this is Austin, and supposedly “Keep Austin Weird” was the slogan seen here and there and on bumper stickers.  I doubt, we’d have much of a problem with that, but that is merely my opinion.   Although all of the walkers used the street, which did not vary quite so much, as the non- conforming  side walks.  Data noticed an unknown ship  in a rectangular form approaching from the west.  His experiences in the past with the “Borg“ suddenly came back into his memory, as he  froze with the suspicious eye of Sherlock Holmes, (although his were yellow) stating, simply “the game’s afoot”.[1]

It was a great mistake for me to define our post personage, Mr. Miller, as a perfect governmental worker; as he was a complex and intelligent person who probably sang along with rap in his truck, and it was obvious that he secretly and carefully watched every thing happening, on his route with great interest, keeping an eye on those people he found interesting, or who had packages to be delivered to their door, which he did in rain or shine, rather than simply stuff them into those strange mausoleum-shaped mail boxes, where letters and magazines and catalogues were left for the residents to stop by on their way in from work, or wherever, and bring into the house to ponder.   Data sensed an emotion that overcame his ‘Intel’ but his programing kicked in as he searched every image before them.  He was at a lost at what action to be taken, as he and Betty Jane were now hiding in the new landscaped house to the very north of our house, and Mr. Miller had parked his Mail van right in front of that particular side walk.  He motioned for Betty Jane to be quiet and took out his phaser, leaving the violin unprotected – to his better judgement,which was a tad rusty, given all that lolly-gagging around the house with Betty Jane for so long.  Seems like He thought Mr. Miller was a threat. hmmm, I used to think so too… Well, he was about 5’10′ and looked fit in his walking shorts.  This particular “Data” was about 9″ tall with his hat on, much to Elmo’s curses.  Betty Jane was a fairly small doll, however a good bit larger than Data, she wasn’t sure what to do about that approaching Mr. Miller either, so she took on her most serious Republican thoughtful expression, tried to act like she was a normal sight to be seen on a week day, as our Postman advanced, coming forward, coming closer to the two hiding dolls,   This part with the mail personage was not in their well-thought out plans (?),  As Data set his phaser off of “stun“. Thinking a good strategy would be to cause one heck of a distraction,  so he raised it and aimed at the Mail truck, which he figured was the most threatening thing in the “Outside World” after all was said and done. A high-pitched, peircing unfamiliar mechanical blast was noticed by the remaining residents, and then: the KaaaaaaaaaBlllllam, of what it’s effect on the Mail truck was most unusual even for the truly Wierd Austin.  What occurred was not just an explosion, strangely enough, what once was a Mail Truck and a flurry of catalogues and letters, sort of exploded and then disappeared and, the wind blew hard from the west, south-west, sending unrecognizable particles of what was left of the truck down the street  into  the ashes, dust, or sand on the street where the Mail truck once stood idling.  For a decent moment, the noise level was so high that even the old lady inside their own house, was frightened by that strange sound,  and arouse from her serious reading, put on her orthopedic shoes and grabbed her cane to go look out of the study window hoping to see what in the outside World had happened.  Stranger than what she heard was the factor that she saw nothing changing, out doors.  Except it was an exceptionally pretty day.  She walked slowlyand  unsteadily out  the door and then stopped.  Mr. Miller was not hurt in any way, but he was at odds with what to do, since his Mail Truck disappeared.  “What a pity,” said the old lady with the cane, “probably taken by those teenagers that knock over the portapotties out side construction sites, don’t you think?”.  Mr. Miller looked rather out of sorts, mumbled something to the effect of ”…I can’t believe that happened…”

I offered to give Mr. Miller a ride to our local Post Office, and  we both rode silently back through out his particular delivery route.  You should know, that before we entered the car, he noticed my cat Elmo still hiding in our front flower bed.  He looked rather guilty, Elmo did, but stood his ground when  I called his name , and  brought him back inside the house.  A Cat is not much of a match when an automobile meet in the middle, so all cats of ours are inside cats, prisoners of love.  Mr. Miller nodded his head, when I thanked him for finding my cat, and I drove down through some of the business parts of his route and let him off at the Post Office.  Actually, I think he took that rather well, much better than when I met him at the door right after we first moved in with a base ball bat as a cane.

[1] http://equotes.wetpaint.com/page/Sherlock+Holmes+Quotes

      I am always a bit embarassed when I think of  that time years ago when good old  Mr. Miller knocked on my door with this snide look on his face, one eye brow up,  sort of waving and  displaying  my letter saying “isn’t this yours?”  Why he would remember me and my hand writing was a great mystery to us all?   Even though he has seen me in my “head ache invention” (the icepack that wraps around  an injurded area, like a knee or an elbow  I bought at the corner drugstore for 5 dollars) sat resting above  my stupidest pair of glasses. That head gear wrapped round my head  did have a certain “je ne sais quoi”, with that condensation, dripping, wad of a huge bright- blue frozen inexplicable weirdness  and it’s long black fastener of velcro, wrapped  twice around my head.  Hey, maybe he thought it was some kind of wierd turban. here I am some silly old lady starting some sort of  horrific events…well, I did look pretty strange as I opened the door with that on my head, like a hat .   Oh, well, that”hat”might have been the tip off,  it realy was less than glamourous. ( They sell them on dweeb catalogues now for 50$ US,).  but I digress as usual.

    As I was handling the rather large package, and at the same time conversing with the all knowing  pensive  postman, little did I know my world was horrendously changing as all the while as I was chatting with Mr. Miller, “of dubious and questionable nature”[1], those very bad three had managed to slither out side, with out being seen or heard by yours truly. But never the less, they had managed to sneak out of the Front door! And continued to make they’re way through the yards to the north.  But why? and for what purpose”?

       I am not sure who was the worse influence there, as they had all disappeared before; just not in tandem…  But I did suspect Betty Jane was again”up to no good’, and Data, why the heck didn’t  he just  use the ‘transporter ‘?  must have been the 19th century costume, inspiring him to rough it on his way to out to the unknown, “boldly going where no one has gone before.”[2]

     Unbeknownst to Betty Jane and Elmo, Data had taken not only his fiddle but also his Phaser.  When I realized they had once again disappeared, I only hoped that Data remembered “the Prime Directive”. [3]   But then I realized  that  my” Mothers boy”,Elmo was gone too;  It was more than I could stand.  And that was a serious problem for me, I can’t  go runing outside calling his name like a regular person,  the truth is I’m more that a little bit crippled.                            

Part III (tomorrow evening)           

Kay Buena(tm)  all rights reserved

[1] Conan Doyle, “A Scandal in Bohemia”

[2,3] ”Star Trek, the Next Generation”

     She had some fairly cool times with me for awhile untill I could tell she was getting to be bored with my existence, and she felt it was time for her to move to a new base or something.  Next thing I knew, she was gone from our house, me with my hat in my hands and a quizical expression of doom.   But after a few months, from out of the entrance way of our home, there she was, singing ” One Love, One heart, lets get together and we’ll be alright.”  This I recognized as a Bob Marely song, and yep; you got it…her hair was in dread locks, she had on old shorts andsome shirt that was even more rank than her old dress I found her in which  had not been washed in over 50 years.  Yowsa! Just when you get used to things being a certain way, things tend to change as per usual, and with Betty Jane,  Chaos reigned as always…

Although she did from time to time tell me of how she had been abducted by aliens, little did I know at the time, there were a plethera of them all over the house.  And not those guys with the big heads and googlieeyes, not E. T. or his like, they were small representatives of ” Star Trek, the Next Generation.” all over our house in some form or another.  So, at a time when I found these action figures, etc. quite entertaining. from a TV Show, long since gone…there was Betty Jane, making plans and making friends with the whole lot.  I should have known.  I’ts one thing to go from having changed her beliefs from that of a Rastafarian into a Republican, but Betty Jane always seemed to amaze me by her ablilty to confront the here and now and at the same time

 confront the where and how that shouldn’t be known, ot even noticed by a mere doll.

     During her Republican phase,she seemed quite compelled, and to the point of fanaticizm to be a card carring Republican, right down to the Big Texas Smile and slightly out of fasion clothing.quite matronly in her appearance, which is no easy deal for some one designed to remain as an eight year old for the rest of time.   But there she was, with her just so matching shoes and handbag, addressing envelopes to various indiviuals .  She would from time to time have “meetings” with her Republican friends for  these”think tank” formal sort of discussions.  She was quite advanced in here education andthinking, having been around politicians for quite some time, and was aware of deplomatic relations considering her many covert missions, when she and Foxie were in the Private Investigator profession…back in the 1050′s.

      My Uncle, who has passed on from this earth alas, was her mentor in thought, and a U.S. Congressman,  Although he was a Democarat, she was particularly impressed by his manners and style, his honesty, and his patience.  Betty Jane, quite extroverted in her youth, had changed in her behavior, becomming more and more of an introvert and a book worm and history buff. Her dialogs with me and the cats, were always quite serious, to the point and issue; and Betty Jane was able to back up her statements and opinions with references to books  she’d read, and parts of the United States Constitution, that she kept taped up on the refrigerator, in caseof a radical statement, that was not to her direction in train of thought.  She would get up from the table and peruse this document, untill she could ‘detail’ the argument so it began to direct the opinion of the seated toward her particular point or belief.  Though, her train of thought often derailed out into what most would seem the twilight zone, but it was not thought to be defined as such by my me or my Uncle,may he rest in peace, though most serious politicians would hardly notice something brought up by a little girl, or a teenager, much less a defiant doll.  Politics was something always discussed with interest and humour at our dinner table, when I  (Caroline O’Hiny Hine) was younger living with my parents.   However these days andtimes, there is no such “dinner table,” I must confess.  My husband considers this computer desk and his favorite companion (You know who here) as his dining place.  And I eat were ever the view seems better and my cats are not able to reach my dinner plate, unless it is left unattended.  Betty Jane, as you can tell is a tad anorexic, in that her slim and childlike figure is part of her image, as an entertainer.  She watches our dinners with interest or at least she did when she was back living with us for that particular term  required by the powers that be, of proper deportment, and social acceptability.  Soon, she became bored with our geezerly ways (no debating of politics, her favorite, at dinner time, or “movie star-scandals and slander” her 2nd best topic of interest.)

     She became more and more fascinated with our cats (beasts that they are) and the” here and there ”Star Trek” action figures we had displayed around the house.  Her Favorite persona;  was “Data” in his costume as Sherlock Holmes.  He played the violin quite beautifully, perfect in pitch and timing but with no deviation from the timing or mode he chose, his pace and perfection were quite charming in fact if not for their being quite so perfectly correct and constant;  I found that mechanical quality quite annoying as was most of his playing, but even that was to Betty Jane’s liking.  Having  such a dependable, inquisitive friend for her house mate became quite a problem for the humans herein.  But the Cats enjoyed Betty Jane’s activities, as action was always at play with her, and they tended to have a serious fascination and quest for Data’s Sherlock  Holmes’  hat, which has since disappeared. One of my male Siamese cats, Elmo ( named for Elmo Lincoln, the actor who first portrayed Tarzan)was once caught hauling Data around by the back of his jacket in a most devious manner, though when quizzed he appeared to have no real malicious actions intended toward Data.  Perhaps he simply had some questions for that particular fellow that he needed answered in private.  However, as I had witnessed some of Elmo’s altercations with the other cats and the toilet paper roll, I suspected the worst and managed to capture both, with out incident.  In truth Elmo’s behavior tends to be rather questionable with regard to the inert or non living things in the house.  He has managed to ruin two nice new chairs and chew up several important papers of mine, however something about his countenance and manner is ever so innocent.  In truth he is a mother’s boy, much to his unmanly embarrassment.  He is quite definitely the alpha cat in residence, or at least the most mischievous of the lot.  He was known to sleep on top of a wicker trunk with Betty Jane, which at first seemed so cozy and lovely to look at.  However, after some time I suspected they were setting up a plot of some nefarious notion, certainly her specialty.

     Once I witnessed a strange but fascinating conversation she had with Elmo and Data about philosophy, especially existentialism; which we all know has to do with the notion popularized in France after World War II.   Data said existentialism was supposed to be a cult of nihilism and pessimism, and that we blame this on some dude named Jean-Paul Sartre. ( I always wondered if he was kin to Jan-Paul Van Dam?  Guess not.)  Anyway, while Data clamed existestentialism was such that everyone exists as an individual in a purposefulless universe, he must oppose his hostile environment through the exercise of free will.  Betty Jane on the other hand, declared with great imperativeness that “this attitude was not only ridiculous, but unchristian.”    Where as having read and taken in a popular Christian must read at that time, supposing all was in the hands of God and pre-determined,  Betty Jane turned to Data, who was unfortunate to being about half her size, and sided-kicked him with her good leg.  Elmo, whose phylosophy at the time was some what akin to if it moves, it probably needs to be pounced on.  With that in mind, Elmo got Data by the head and went for the front door, which at the tme was ajar, as the mail-personage had just delivered a package, and while I was signing some form, they took off for the outdoor world.       ( part two: tomorrow evening)