How a Grown Up Ends a War and Wins
It is not my intention here to give our current president a strategy for a gracious exit from the War with Iran. I am writing this only because I believe he is incapable of adopting my solution.
Years ago, my very smart husband, AdventureMan and I played strategic board games. One time, I beat him in only six moves, at which point he stood up and stomped his foot (a very strong statement from a normally restrained man) and yelled “You can’t do that! It’s unorthodox!”
And that’s how wars are won. Yes, you can waste billions on sophisticated weaponry, and have a lot of fun with bombs and destruction. High T at work. You can also waste lives, and I believe that is a crime against your country. Our young people are not expendable.
We’ve all started fights we can’t win. It’s wired into us as human beings. What is the way out?
“I’ve made a big mistake. I take full responsibility. I’m sorry I got us into this mess, and now, I am going to do everything in my power to make it right.”
Those words, and the humility it takes to say them, save relationships, re-establish peace, and a firm foundation for moving forward.
It takes a grown-up to say them. It takes a grown-up to even think them. To continue on a losing path is wasteful and self-destructive.
We are not winning.
It’s time to own up, exit, and begin rebuilding our alliances.
New York’s Participation Trophy for Trump and his Iranian debacle. Everyone invited to contribute; no achievement too paltry to commemorate. The more gilt, the merrier.
Sunday at the Veterinary Emergency Clinic
My normal Sunday morning is quiet and contemplative. I get up early, whisper a quick “I’m going to church now” to Adventure Man and head out to what we jokingly call The Express Service. It’s for the quiet people who want to worship without a lot of embellishments and move on. Our priests are very good at respecting people’s time and creating a serene atmosphere for worship.
On my bathroom mirror is an ominous yellow sticky that says “wake me when you get up to talk about Uhtred.”
Uhtred is seeping blood and pus on his left flank. We know there are no options, we dress quickly to get to the Vet Emergency Care before the rest of the world awakes – we’ve been there before. It’s the only game in town, and weekends are busy.
We sign in. As they take Uhtred to the back to give him a superficial exam, a man comes in carrying a huge dog – maybe 80 pounds – who does not look like he is breathing.
We are updated on Uhtred’s condition and moved to a small room. A tech came by with water and an update – due to an all-hands-on-deck emergency, less urgent cases are on hold, Uhtred being a less urgent case.
We wait six hours. During these six hours, I take a break to go outside and walk; walking helps me calm my anxiety and keeps me sane. As I walk, I see another prostate dog come in on a stretcher, and desperate people with cages arriving. We’re under a high heat warning. It’s affecting our animals, too. We’re all desperate. We love our animals, and this is the only emergency treatment center open on Sunday in town. The wait seems endless.
A very competent doctor comes in and gives us two options: a stabilization one where we get him to our own vet the next day, and a complete treatment one, where they get to him when they can, but there are higher priority cases, and they just keep arriving, and they won’t get to him until late in the day. We opt for stabilization; we’d actually prefer Uhtred be treated by our own somewhat eccentric vet who has known us for years, and has treated all our cats.
We leave the clinic in relief after six hours with a cleaned-up, medicated cat in an “E” collar (for Elizabethan) to keep him from licking his wound.
As we leave, something extraordinary happens, something we have never seen before. The clinic closes its doors to incoming patients. There is one doctor, and 40+ situations awaiting her attention. Until they can bring in more emergency staff, they cannot deal with more. My heart goes out to them all, those who are trying to triage and treat these desperate cases, and those who are turned away when there are no other options.
We have a family dinner later in the day, this one an adult-only dinner where we discuss family situations and discuss options. We love these dinners, meeting with our son and his wife quietly, relaxed and open. We make a great team.
My daughter-in-law tells me there IS another option, further north, where we can take our animals under emergency conditions, a place they really like. Another resource! I am so thankful; I’ve never heard of this place, and it relieves my future anxieties about our animal emergencies.
Tightrope, No Safety Net
It is astonishing and hiliarious what you can find on the internet these days if you look. I entered “image Trump on a tightrope” and came up with more than I had hoped for.
We are in dangerous times. Our President is reckless, and leaves a trail of wreckage. All the guardrails, so carefully set up to avoid corruption, abuse, waste and degradation have been dismantled. The watchers have been fired. The laws have been weakened, if not destroyed.
The relationships with reliable allies have been demolished with bravado, as if it were a good thing not to have cooperative friends.
A civilized society operates within constraints. It demonstrates self-restraint for the greater good of all. Have you ever heard this President exhibit a single concern for the citizens of the USA? Any note indicating a desire to serve and protect? You know, like the oaths of public service require?
The safety nets are gone. ICE operates with impunity; poorly trained, without accountability, preying on the most vulnerable among us. We are told in the earliest books of our religion to “welcome the stranger.” We are told by the crooks, rapists and bad people in charge that the immigrants are “crooks, rapists and bad people.” They have little protection, and, it seems, no longer have the rights guaranteed by the court system so carefully developed.
Our president and his family skim billions from the economy and deals made on the basis of presidential power. Croneys make billions from an endless war which serves no purpose and has no credible way of ending.
Our trusted institutions teeter on collapse.
I pray for our country, as I watch with horror and anticipate the next outrageous proclamations of the president and his confederacy of dunces.
CrisisGroup.Org
Because I follow – or try to follow – piracy in Somalia, I go down rabbit holes. Some rabbit holes lead you to the most amazing places, including a comprehensive update on an upsurge in Somalian piracy and root causes.
The rabbit holes led me to this fascinating group, Crisisgroup.org. I’m always curious who is behind these organizations – this organization, out of Brussels, seems to keep watch on some far-flung and, to U.S. readers, sometimes obscure potential events, which, when they explode, we wonder why we never heard of these fomenting conflicts.
Biases: Believing Our Delusions
This is from a daily reading by Richard Rohr, a theologian I love reading for his broad outlook on belief and spirituality.
None of us is free from biases that skew our thinking. He lists several of the thinking errors below.
Recognizing Our Biases
CAC (Center for Advanced Contemplation – ed.) faculty member Brian McLaren has done thoughtful and helpful research about what makes us see things so differently from one another. He identified thirteen biases that we outline today. Being a former pastor and an excellent communicator, Brian found a way to make these complex ways of seeing simple and memorable. He writes:
People can’t see what they can’t see. Their biases get in the way, surrounding them like a high wall, trapping them in ignorance, deception, and illusion. No amount of reasoning and argument will get through to them, unless we first learn how to break down the walls of bias. . . .
Confirmation Bias: We judge new ideas based on the ease with which they fit in with and confirm the only standard we have: old ideas, old information, and trusted authorities. As a result, our framing story, belief system, or paradigm excludes whatever doesn’t fit.
Complexity Bias: Our brains prefer a simple falsehood to a complex truth.
Community Bias: It’s almost impossible to see what our community doesn’t, can’t, or won’t see.
Complementarity Bias: If you are hostile to my ideas, I’ll be hostile to yours. If you are curious and respectful toward my ideas, I’ll respond in kind.
Competency Bias: We don’t know how much (or little) we know because we don’t know how much (or little) others know. In other words, incompetent people assume that most other people are about as incompetent as they are. As a result, they underestimate their [own] incompetence, and consider themselves at least of average competence.
Consciousness Bias: Some things simply can’t be seen from where I am right now. But if I keep growing, maturing, and developing, someday I will be able to see what is now inaccessible to me.
Comfort or Complacency Bias: I prefer not to have my comfort disturbed.
Conservative/Liberal Bias: I lean toward nurturing fairness and kindness, or towards strictly enforcing purity, loyalty, liberty, and authority, as an expression of my political identity.
Confidence Bias: I am attracted to confidence, even if it is false. I often prefer the bold lie to the hesitant truth.
Catastrophe or Normalcy Bias: I remember dramatic catastrophes but don’t notice gradual decline (or improvement).
Contact Bias: When I don’t have intense and sustained personal contact with “the other,” my prejudices and false assumptions go unchallenged.
Cash Bias: It’s hard for me to see something when my way of making a living requires me not to see it.
Conspiracy Bias: Under stress or shame, our brains are attracted to stories that relieve us, exonerate us, or portray us as innocent victims of malicious conspirators.
“Still, the U.S. Loss Kinda Felt Like Trump’s Fault”
The above quote is from Brian Phillips, writing for The Ringer, July 6, 2026, in an article titled: The Worst Ending to the Best U.S. Men’s World Cup Ever.
He echoes the conversations held before the match all across the United States.
“It should never have been called! It wasn’t a foul!”
“What was Trump thinking, inserting himself in this?”
“So much for sportsmanship!”
“But he shouldn’t have been red-carded!”
I’m showing my age. I was aghast to hear that the president had interfered. I was aghast that FIFA changed the ruling so that Balogun could play. The Girl Scout in me (sigh, it never goes away) was screaming that even when a ruling is unjust, you man up and play on.
The loss to Belgium was staggering. Not even close. And what has been done cannot be undone; if FIFA continues corrupt and pliable, what might have been a path toward “Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward Men” is badly damaged.
Alaska 2026: Aftermath – You Can Do This
We wanted to do this ourselves, and we did it. We’ve done it before.
Alaska is a US state. Delta, American, Alaskan Airlines all fly to Alaska. People speak English. All the usual car rental agencies are there, and they speak English, and they share American culture. My friends, Alaska is doable.
When we go to Alaska, people assume we are cruising. No. We can do this on our own, and we love it! We can choose our own adventures, how much or how little time to spend at each spot, the people we will spend time with, when we will get up, when and what we will eat – we love having this control. Alaska is easy.
The drawbacks – yeh, well there is the suitcase drag, packing and packing again. There is the drive time, although Alaskan scenery is so compelling and varied that drive time kind of passes magically by. There is the energy expenditure, when you choose your own adventure, but it is balanced by being able to schedule your own nap time, meals, bed time and bathroom breaks.
Next time, we will probably skip Denali. It was a lot fun, and once, for us, was enough. We might go back and do the Alaska Maritime Highway Ferry from Juneau, all the way down to Dutch Harbor, and we will probably schedule longer stays in Seward and Homer, because they are so interesting and so walkable, with so many things to do and see, and such comfortable lodgings.
Traveling this way takes more planning, and it also gives you more options to customize your tour so that you experience what YOU want to get out of your time in Alaska.
I grew up in Alaska, so you might look for different experiences. For me, one of the most wonderful experiences happens every two years, in Juneau, usually around the first week in June. Sponsored by Sealaska Heritage Institute, it is called The Celebration.
Here is what their home page says:
In 1982, the fledgling Native nonprofit Sealaska Heritage Institute held a dance-and-culture festival to celebrate the Tlingit, Haida, and Tsimshian cultures of Southeast Alaska. At the time, Native people were emerging from a long period of cultural oppression by Westerners, and they worried that young people weren’t learning their ancient songs and dances. A couple of hundred Native people gathered in Juneau for the event, called Celebration. They could not have imagined then that Celebration would spark a movement across the region — a renaissance of Native culture that prompted people largely unfamiliar with their heritage to learn their ancestral songs and dances and to make regalia for future Celebrations.
Today, Celebration is one of the largest cultural events in the state, drawing thousands of people to the four-day festival. It is the largest gathering of Tlingit, Haida, and Tsimshian people in the world. It has grown to include associated events, including a Juried Art Show and Competition, a Juried Youth Art Exhibit, a Toddler Regalia Review, an Indigenous Fashion Show, a Native Artist Market, and Native food contests. The biennial event is schedule in early June every even year in Juneau. Everyone is welcome to attend.
We attended in 2014. Many of my Juneau friends didn’t even know it was happening! It was amazing and joyful. My favorite part was the parade when all the clans, in their beautiful handmade costumes, paraded down the main street of Juneau. It is something rare and beautiful, something wonderful to see.
Alaska 2026: Anchorage Airport, An Experience in Itself
We actually enjoy the Anchorage Airport. It is full of interesting experiences from entry to exit.
There is something about taking photos of a childrens’ play area – I had to be very careful not to include the children. Isn’t it delightful to see this creative wonderful area to entertain the children traveling?
We met so many people who have come to Alaska to work, and who love Alaska and end of staying. Maybe someone reading this blog will want to teach in Alaska?
Bye now!
Alaska 2026: Homer Quiet Anniversary
This was a really funny day. The weather has changed, cloudier, foggier, damper.
We had a reservation for lunch again at Captain Pattie’s; AdventureMan had made it in advance for our wedding anniversary. We had a leisurely morning, starting to pack for our drive back to Anchorage, then heading down early to the Homer Spit where the Viking Orion was docked.
It was so funny being on the other side, watching the cruisers come into the little town of Homer, AK, doubling its normal population. We went down and took a photo; we can’t remember if we’ve been on the Orion before, but we have been booked on the same itinerary – three times – and never took the trip.
We had booked first for 2020. Ummm, yes, COVID nixed that. We had rebooked for the following year and then the following year, and none of those ships sailed. It was a trip from Japan, and at the time, through the Kamchatka Peninsula, which we really wanted to see, Dutch Harbor, the Aleutians, and then around the inner curve of Alaska, ending, I believe, in Vancouver, BC. We never took it. And here it was.
As we entered Captain Pattie’s, we were greeted by the wait staff that had taken care of us the day before, and had another lovely dinner, having salads and splitting a seafood linguine. It was all delicious.
I did not have King Crab again. After lunch, we visited the shops on the spit, ending up at Carmen’s Gelato, where I had the Chocolate Noir sorbet, very very dark chocolate, very intense, and AdventureMan had chocolate gelato. We sat in the parking lot overlooking the docks and ate our ice cream in bliss.
This was in the window of a shop on the Homer Spit. It totally cracked me up.
We try to have an easy day in each place we stay, and this was our easy day. We napped, we packed, we discarded. We thought through what we would get rid of now, and what we would leave in Anchorage.
We agreed that we got great sleep on this trip; the places we stayed were so quiet. It’s early in the season, and I expect the places will be livelier and noisier as the season goes on. We’re glad we came when we came.
What is amazing to me is how random all our good fortune has been. When AdventureMan said Alaska, and showed me the trip he had found, I just used those dates to plan our own version, and didn’t change a thing. It didn’t occur to me, and I wonder why? I love it that we traveled in comfort and privacy, and it cost us a quarter of what it would have if we had booked the group travel.
Alaska 2026: Wonders En Route to Homer, Alaska
We awake to a different day, warm, with fog rising off the water.
We have a sweet farewell breakfast up at Northern Lights B&B (Sarah manages several allied B&Bs in the same area as Front Row B&B) with Sarah, and we pack up for our short drive to Homer.
We have a couple of errands to run as we leave town, and AdventureMan indulges me, I want a photo of the big new cruise ship that has arrived in Seward.
Seward is tourist-friendly, with its train terminal, trolley, good restaurants, and lots and lots to do and see. They recently built a much larger dock, with which to welcome much larger cruise ships. It has caused some controversy, as when a big ships come in, the tourists outnumber Seward residents. Just after we left, the Celebrity Millenium arrived, and sadly, an endangered whale was caught in her propeller, and died, stuck there. Seward loves their whales, visible from most homes and businesses lining the channel. It’s a sad circumstance.
We also need to stop on our way out of town at the Safeway; my lips are dry and I’ve used all my Vaseline. My pens are all leaking on my hands, my purse, ruining anything I write by hand, so I need to pick up some pens I can leave behind. And the local grocery stores are just fun.
Driving past the entrance to Exit Glacier, we get back on Alaska 1S to Homer, spotting elk along the highway and fervent fishermen heading to the salmon-rich rivers and through Cooper Landing and Soldotna.
Heading south from Soldotna, we start to see the far-off beginnings of the volcanic mountains heading down a long chain to form the Aleutian Islands. The day is sunny, and the view is stunning. Every new perfect snow-clad mountain is showing off for us on this gorgeous day.
We keep trying to find a good spot to stop and take a photo – the frustration of trying to capture the wonder of a chain of perfect mountains is a challenge. AdventureMan spots a Russian Chapel and says “Let’s try here!”
We drive down to a church, an onion-domed chapel, and a much larger church overlooking an old village. As I walk out to a vantage point, another group drives up in a van, from one of the cruise ships, to have a picnic on the church grounds. We stroll around, loving the old cemetary surrounding the old Russian church, and the new military veterans cemetary under creation. We’re not that far from Homer, so we head on, gassing up in the roadside version of Ninilchik, at one of the Three Bears (Shell gas) stops we see so often selling gas, groceries, and the variety of items people living in relative isolation might need.
As we come into Homer, still a little early for our hotel, we spot Fat Olive’s. We’ve never eaten at Fat Olives, but we’ve tried, and it has been too full too many times. This time, we are in luck. We are eager for some Tomato Basil Soup. I have something called The Trio, and AdventureMan has the meatball pan, sizzling hot out of the oven. It’s all served with more sourdough bread, so much food that as good as it is, we pack up enough to take with us for dinner.
Welcome to the Ocean House Inn; we can’t get out of the car because there is a moose crossing the parking lot to get to the roses.
The Ocean House Inn is on a bluff, high above the water, looking out at the Homer Spit.
It is small, and beautiful. We love our room, which has a small refrigerator, microwave, and a coffee maker, with some cups and utensils – enough that we can work with. Life is sweet.
We settle in, sit outside on our deck, enjoying not-driving. The sun is shining – this is something to celebrate in Alaska. The mountains across Katchemak Bay are gleaming. We have neighbors, but they are all very quiet.
On our way into town, we got a call from the people we are going on a bay Wilderness Game tour the next day, asking if we would like to be moved to an afternoon tour, they have room. Oh no, we respond, we prefer the mornings. “Uh, OK,” they say. I can worry about anything; I am a little worried the boat is overloaded or something.
We take a quick drive to 2 Sisters Bakery, only to find it closed about ten minutes before we got there, and we hit the local Safeway to pick up some milk and granola. The Homer Safeway is a happening place on a Friday afternoon, and lots of fun.
So late Friday night that it is actually two Saturday morning, I get up to check if I can see the aurora borealis; reports say with sun activity, the borealis should be very active. Alas, at two in the morning, it is not dark, just a glimmery grey and no aurora borealis is to be seen.
You can still see the bay and the mountains. No aurora borealis.
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