Meanwhile, In America...

Barry Blitt via The New Yorker

...The Politics are harshing my Zen.

Normally, I would not post any irreverent image of President Lincoln, but in this case, I can make the exception with a clear conscience.  If he had already been restive in his tomb due to the likes of Bush 43, Nixon, and less famous republicans who have disgraced varying degrees of Public Office, he is surely retching and spewing at the likes of the gop's frontrunners now.  Actually, knowing President Lincoln's sensibilities and esteem for his countrymen, he is probably more likely weeping with sorrow at what has happened to the nation he worked so hard to save.

How did The Party Of Lincoln end up with a Sideshow Barker as its Candidate? It was inevitable, I guess, when they allowed a loudmouthed bigot as their spokesman early on and not only legitimized the threadbare credentials of the Alaskan Airhead, but continue to countenance her.  The republicans also like to invoke conservatism and Reagan as if they are both Sacred Talismans, conveniently forgetting things like the skyrocketing unemployment in 1981, and the fact that St. Ronald slept through not only Cabinet meetings, but even an audience with the Pope, and that conservatism is, at best, an Ideal. It can't be an absolute prescription for a diverse, multicultural nation like the United States of America.

Of course, some polls have a different frontrunner, the equally alarming anti-science, history-rewriting doctor whose flip comment regarding the recent Oregon school shooting flummoxed even his Fox News hosts.  In typical somnolent, sotto voce style,  the good doctor vowed that he would never have been so meek as to have been slaughtered by a gunman without a fight.  He would have rallied everyone by intoning, "Hey guys.  Everybody attack him.  He may shoot me, but he can't get us all."  And then...he laughed. (abt. 5:02)  But you know those republicans; they hate political correctness.

Jeb! has begun to sound like the exasperated Student Council president who is upset because of student apathy about Sixties Theme Dress-Up Day.  As he reminded us not so long ago, he has "a lot of really cool things that [he] can do other than sit around and be miserable listening to people demonize [him]", leaving everyone wondering, of course, why he doesn't simply Go Off And Do Them. One can only imagine how many phone calls Barbara Bush has endured since June that have started off with "Mo-om! It's just not Fair!"

Don't worry; I won't go on.  I can't.  It's exhausting, isn't it?  And I have to keep telling myself that Last Time, Herman Cain was enjoying his Moment In The Sun.

(I know, who?  Oh, yeah...that one guy.)

It's all so very disappointing, though.  Sigh.

Let's say you're a registered republican; who do you vote for?  Play along in Comments.



(Readers: please remember that I do not, on principle, capitalize the republican party or any of its synonyms. It's My Thing.)

The Prodigal Blogger Returns: Wine, A Wedding (?), Words, And Some Wee Wonderfuls

It would seem that I had been taking a sort of Inadvertent Sabbatical. I want to write, yet I feel sludgy and stumped--the worst sort of Uninspired. Perhaps my Indiscipline--bred of four years or so now of Retirement--has finally caught up with my brain and I'm a Dullard: not thinking too deeply, not reading much of substance or often, and not Energized. Jealously guarding my Zen, making the effort to Not Be So Tightly Wound, I wonder if I perhaps Went Too Far (if that's even possible).

Can I still blame everything on The Menopause? Or is it too late?

Sigh.

Let me rattle my head and see what's in there.

Rick and I had a jaunt up to Niagara-on-the-Lake, and were rewarded with yet another new winery. Luckily, we tasted with the winemaker himself, and after a slug of one of his gorgeous reds, I was moved to propose marriage to him, right in front of my (current) husband. Andrezj (now my secret fiance) raised his eyebrows and smiled, looked at Rick, and informed us that his son was a sommelier and head of operations at the winery (a mere technicality), and that he has been married for I forget, something like twenty-five years. Rick mentioned our thirty-four year marriage, which I waved off with my wineglass. Which Dear Andrezj then immediately poured the next wine into, which I also loved. New Philosophy: Marry first for money, second for wine, third for love. No explanation needed.

Hmm. If I left Rick and ran away with a winemaker, I would definitely miss conversations like this one, had briefly during a commercial break over the weekend.

Rick: (upon viewing a candy commercial for chocolate, possibly Lindt) I don't like that word, chocolatier.
Nance: (looking up briefly from a torrid series of games of Words With Friends) Really? What about it could you possibly object to?
Rick: It sounds like Musketeer and Mouseketeer and I just don't like it.
Nance: (rapidly finishing up her moves; hugely interested) Okay. Say you rank them in order, those three words, according to how much you like them, most to least.
Rick: (immediately) Chocolatier, Musketeer, Mouseketeer.
Nance: (despite knowing his disdain of all things Disney) Okay, now why?
Rick: Because I like chocolate, and the Musketeer can at least slice up the Mouseketeer.
Nance: Wow. And here I was thinking, 'same order, but because Three Musketeers is also a chocolate bar.'
Rick: That works too.

And, finally, a random list of

Small Things I Appreciate

1. M&M’S
2. Ice and Water in the refrigerator door
3. Recycling everything in one bin
4. Butternut Squash
5. Fleece blankets

Thank you for waiting.  I think I'm back.

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