Maybe it’s just me, but I think women in their forties who wear mini-skirts look ridiculous. Jennifer Aniston is the one who usually comes to mind, but at last night’s Emmy awards Laura Linney was up there flashing her mid-thighs for all the world to see. Ewwww. Admittedly, I came of age during the hippie era, which introduced a huge set of its own baggage to ideas of female imagery. But I’m struck by how thoroughly the “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” backlash to the women’s liberation movement of yesteryear has permeated our perennially adolescent culture. This has nothing to do with prudishness, and everything to do with finding maturity sexy. Style is cool. People over forty trying to look like they’re twenty-somethings isn’t.

“When asked to describe a moral dilemma they had faced, two-thirds of the young people either couldn’t answer the question or described problems that are not moral at all, like whether they could afford to rent a certain apartment or whether they had enough quarters to feed the meter at a parking spot.”

I usually either flat-out disagree with conservative columnist David Brooks or find his analyses naive and short-sighted. But he’s an intelligent, well-meaning person, which is more than I can say about most Republicans in the public eye at this point. And he’s spot-on in this recent column about the broader social implications of the lack of clear moral values amongst “the younger generation.” As happens on a cyclical basis in American culture, the proverbial chickens are coming home to roost.

I heard the news of terrorist attacks on New York City and Washington DC on the clock radio as I was waking up the morning of September 11, 2001. I lay in bed for a few minutes trying to take it in, and then got up to check the Internet. I couldn’t get a connection, so I went into my teenaged son’s bedroom and turned on the television. He woke up to the image of the burning towers and my jumbled explanation of what had happened. A few minutes later, we watched the first tower crumple to the ground.

“There were people in that building,” I said. There wasn’t much else to do but go fix breakfast and try to gain some sense of normalcy to the day.

It has been an extraordinarily busy ten years for me ever since, and I honestly haven’t spent much time reflecting on the events of what is now known as 9/11. But major anniversaries are a good time for reflection. George W. Bush, whose presidency was floundering, found his calling that day, and his puppet-masters behind the scenes found the cover they needed to go on offense with half-baked, ideological dreams of grandeur. Seven horrendously destructive years later, the country radically shifted gears and elected the first African-American president, a long-held liberal dream. I like Obama a lot and believe he has done an extraordinary job under impossibly stressful circumstances these past three years, but his relative inexperience wielding power has caused problems that perhaps weren’t inevitable. Still, he’s a smart, honorable man, and the best leader we’ve got to help us muddle through the current mess.

Ten years on from 9/11, old systems and institutions around the globe are in a state of turbulence, and life sometimes seems more chaotic than ever. But I’m continually struck by how much strength, resilience and good will there is down on the ground in ordinary life. I have faith that we will get through this and emerge stronger than ever. There are times, though, when I wish it was easier to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

My computer crash a couple of weeks ago called into play the imperative of organizing information content while putting the brakes on continuing to amass it in unfettered fashion. This includes my out of control photo library, which contains many treasures. Here’s the path I’m following in to the project:

I didn’t watch the Republican debate last night because I have a low threshold of tolerance for watching wack jobs be treated as if they were rational, functional members of society. I’m glad to see that the race appears to be quickly narrowing down to a contest between Mitt Romney, representing the party’s sane adult wing, and Rick Perry, representing the whoop-de-do crowd (and proud of it). I would like to believe a majority of the country’s voters wouldn’t be so dumb as to get fooled again by another loudmouthed, swaggering Texan with a sketchy relationship to fact and reason, but, as H. L. Mencken once said, “Nobody ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American public.” Sigh… This would be more enjoyable to watch if I had more faith that the better angels of our nature would ultimately prevail.

Gorgeous weather today. The dogs and I went for a romp down by the bay, and a good time was had by all. Even the ducks didn’t get too riled up when the dogs ran down to splash in the water – they just took flight and relocated a bit further out from the shore.

I’m no expert on birds, but I think the vulture-like creature standing sentry on a post may be a Great Blue Heron with its long neck tucked into its chest. It was magnificent even from a distance. This one may be young, but at adult size it probably would have a wing span wider than I am tall.

I spent the morning in Berkeley, poking around on Shattuck Avenue while my car got an oil change. I went out to breakfast in Walnut Square, then walked downtown to a bookstore and the library. I picked up the car around lunchtime, stopped off at the natural grocery for a few items, and then headed back out to the hinterlands. A lovely day, one that reminded me of what I appreciate about the city and the country. Berkeley is jam-packed with interesting things to see and do, and is truly on the cutting edge of good food and books. Love it! But I’m much happier not being constantly bombarded by the attendant sensory overload. Out here where the air is fresh and the pace of life slower, I can more fully savor material abundance. It’s the best of both worlds, and a very nice place to be.

There’s a nice synergy going on between two items on my household “To Do” list: I need to clean up the straggly parts of the garden and I forgot to buy fresh dandelion leaves for my green elixir last time I was at the produce market. Fortunately, the “weeds” that need clearing out of the patio bricks include several dandelions that are untainted by powdery mildew. So, I will harvest them for my healthy brew, as opposed to relegating them to the compost bin. “Weed” is a relative term.

It’s documented fact that ever since Ronald Reagan was president there has been a massive upwards redistribution of wealth in this country. Not only is American-style capitalism unabashedly rigged to favor profits and capital over human rights, the gap between the haves and have-nots has dramatically widened over the past three decades, squeezing the middle class in the process. The silver lining in the current mess is that politicians are being smoked out and forced to reveal the principles they truly stand for. Not content with the widened economic inequality of the past generation, Republicans now unabashedly want to pull up the drawbridge and let the beleaguered masses pay for whatever services they want or expect their government to provide. Meanwhile, the current poster child for corporate bad behavior is California’s Pacific Gas and Electric, which has run out of any plausible deniability for its criminal negligence in protecting public safety at even the most elementary level. If we’re lucky, we will see the tide begin to turn as the election season gets underway and people start tuning into cause and effect on public policy. Heaven knows, the present farce in Washington is unsustainable.

Which reminds me of the best joke I heard this week:

VA QUAKE BREAKING NEWS!!! 
The USGS has determined that the epicenter of the Virginia earthquake was in a cemetery just outside of DC. 
The cause appears to be all of our Founding Fathers rolling over in their graves.

Even though a giant liquidambar tree at the corner of the garden has leafed out so thickly it’s shading the vegetable bed – a situation I hope to remedy before next spring – certain plants are healthy and happy. In particular, three yellow zucchinis have started producing. It never ceases to amaze me how big those things can get how quickly. So far I’ve managed to nab them before they start reaching baseball bat size.

I made a delicious soup the other evening that was yet again a reminder of how simple fare can be the best. I sautéed an onion in olive oil, added freshly ground black pepper when it was nicely caramelized, then threw in the chopped yellow zukes and a pint of chicken broth I got at a deli in Berkeley. After it had simmered enough to soften up the squash, I grated in some fresh nutmeg and pureed the mix in the pot with a hand blender. The resulting soup was a creamy golden color that tasted like the essence of summer. Yum!