A Falling Star

My beloved country is dropping from its place of pre-eminence like a meteor. Over the past few months, I have felt the peculiar sensation of watching and being unable to prevent a nasty fall.

Michael Medved once wrote, "America is bizarrely blessed." He was right. For decades our crops never failed. There was abundance in our homes and our lives. Our innovation was unparalleled in the world. People from around the globe wanted to live here in freedom, security, and plenty. Even the poorest among us have clothes to spare and cellphones, for heaven's sake.

Recently, though, it's plain to see that the crown of blessing has been removed. When I woke up this morning and saw this report, I trembled at the implications of it for our military and our security. It's one more piece chronicling our tumbling decent on the world's stage. Never mind that the leakers themselves owe their freedom to those they put at risk. If we lived in a different nation, they'd be carting rocks around in the gulag right now.

Perhaps that's closer than we know.

Jeze-Bill

Back in March, Edmund and I accepted delivery of 21 chicks. We ordered hens—pullets, the chicken-before-the-egg scenario. We dreamt of their lovely eggs-to-be, and cleaned a lot of foul mess from wherever they roamed. Remember? Here are the fruits of our labor.
Pretty, aren't they? Yum! They have richly-hued golden yolks that stand up firmly in the pan, and we're getting a nice variety of colors. The white ones you see above are for contrasting ours with extra-large store eggs. Ours are tiny because our hens are still so young.

Somewhere along the way, one little miss became a bully. She'd peck at the others, boss them around, and pull their feathers out. She was turning into the most beautiful of the bunch, but was undoubtedly the wickedest. Edmund and Lucy dubbed her Jezebel after the beautiful-yet- evil Biblical queen. We wondered what to do to tame her. We put her in time-out. We tried to calm her down. By mid-June, she was a full head taller than the rest. Could it be that she was a he?
At the end of June, Jezebel let out one tortured crow followed by a clear "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" and we knew for sure that "she" wasn't. All that bullying suddenly made a lot more sense, and we began to look for a new moniker. Ahab? Eggburt? Jeze-Bill?

For the record, we still call him Jezebel. The way he treats his harem, I think he deserves it.