When I Went Bananas And Took My BFF And Rick With Me (And A Little Politics)

 

It's back to the Bananas War with me again. Devoted readers will recall that, back in April 2021, I introduced you to my Ongoing Outrage at the price of Bananas at my funny grocery store. I continue to not only fuss about the Banana Fee, but I also faithfully text a photo of the sign (and price) to my BFF Leanne in Maryland. 

I know she appreciates these Vital Bulletins and that they enrich her life immeasurably.

Not so long ago, it pained me to have to send this message to Leanne:

(That is not, by the way, a photo of Leanne. That is a picture of her Boston terrier, Stella.) And I truly did not buy the wretched BananaS.

The following week I went to a different town so that I could shop the same store and avoid the dumb spelling of BananaS. They were still 59 cents a pound, but I took it as a win.

Soon after, Rick had a day off, and he accompanied me to the grocery store in town. He is brave and tall, so this happened:

(Sadly, I did not have a red pen, but Rick pulled down both signs--one from each side--so that I could make the necessary correction to both:  no apostrophe for plurals!) I felt victorious and overflowing  with relief. The whole world seemed somehow righted. I smiled and felt...lighter. I didn't even mind paying 59 cents a pound for BananaS.

The following week I strode confidently to the produce department. I looked up at the sign for BananaS and was rewarded tenfold. I couldn't wait to text Leanne!

Indeed. I may be retired, but I am still Out There, Defending And Promoting The Language. Teaching In The Wild, as it were. It never stops, you know. 

Until it does.

Because here's what I found the last time I went to the grocery store.

Bless her. We have a motto, Leanne and I. Everything crummy can eventually be traced back to the republicans. And she can always make me laugh.

Want to give it a try, tracing this Sign Saga back to republicans? Do you have a BananaS Story to share? Have you ever corrected a sign? Can you relate to my Pain or are you the Leanne in this story?

Or, just natter away in Comments about the Silliness Of It All.

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Time For A Cerebral Sweep: Cranial Clutter That Needs To Be Dumped

 How about a little Random This 'N That sort of post to clear out some of my Thought Nerfuls that have been bouncing around my brain? I need a sort of Cerebral Sweep, and I don't want to fuss about format much, either. Here we go.

Stuff I Meant To Mention Awhile Back

1. I won the Fantasy Basketball Championship for our league back in...March? I beat out 9 men for the coveted virtual trophy and bragging rights. I won't bore you with the details, but I do want to mention that I was without my core of stars for most of the playoffs, and I had to pull off miracles. 

2. Zydrunas's DNA results came back and he is a mix of pit bull and American bully breeds. No boxer in there at all, which surprised me. He could not care less about this info, and honestly, either could we.

The Politics

1. I have not missed a January 6 Hearing yet, and I watch with a mix of astonishment, smug validation, admiration, and frustration. And General Outrage. Liz Cheney and I have zero in common politically, and I can't see myself championing her candidacy for much of anything, but she is laying it down in these hearings. This Committee is outstanding in its preparation, presentation, and its command of the facts in evidence. The DOJ had better come through.

2. SCOTUS is breathtaking in its corruption. The ruling overturning Roe v Wade is a travesty; Alito's writings are almost insane. The fact that Clarence Thomas is still adjudicating matters brought before the court while his wife is implicated in the Insurrection taints any and all decisions (or even debates) he is involved in. A major correction is needed, and what shape that takes (expansion to match the number of federal circuit courts or losing tainted judges appointed by a seditionist president) should be decided soon.

3. Young Sorta-Democratic voters need to stop getting stuck on student debt forgiveness and understand that there are other critical issues facing them and their future. Or--failing that--they need to ask themselves, "Who is more likely to ever forgive my debt at any time, a Democrat or a republican?" and vote with that in mind. Duh.

Life In General

1. I am feeding a blue jay with raw peanuts in the shell on my front porch at home. Every morning, early, I leave them in a little ceramic dish on the table and watch as it flies in and grabs one. If the windows are open, I talk to it quietly. (I've even named it, Sassy.)  My next move is to be out there when it comes to feed, sitting still and quiet. I am working up to having it eat from my hand.

2. Rick is on vacation this week, so we are spending a great deal of it at the lake. Jared and Sam came down for boating and fireworks and brought Zydrunas. I spent most of the hour-long show lying on top of the dog, who was trembling with terror. Eventually, as I spoke to him and he felt my weight keeping him safe, he was able to relax and feel better. 

3. I planted dill from seed that I harvested from my dill last year. It did not come up. I have dill, however, all over the place where I did not plant it. It is everywhere except in my herb garden, where I planted it. Regardless, I have a lot of dill, so Yay! I've already made quarts and quarts of pickles.

4. I was reading names of 2022 graduates, and I love this one:  Mysterious Destiny.  Obviously, I won't give the student's last name, but how great of a name is that? And how very, very true.

  Talk to me of Things You Forgot To Mention, The Politics, or Life In General in Comments. And wouldn't you agree that Mysterious Destiny is aptly named? From the moment we take our first breaths in the world, little about our journeys here can be known. How different we all thought our lives would be right now, even five years ago! Mysterious Destiny's mother is a poet and a prophet.

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Real Talk: January 6, 2021

 

I did a lot of back and forthing about writing this post, not because I worried about its content being too inflammatory, but because I already feel so consumed by the shock, outrage, and anger I've felt over the events of January 6. Sometimes, writing about it simply rekindles the flames, and I'm left feeling a renewed sense of indignance with nowhere to put it.

But I almost feel hypocritical not talking about it here, where I express myself about virtually everything, and where The Politics have certainly been a constant topic for me over the fifteen years of this blog's run.

What galls me most is that a pathetically large faction of republicans (and I will never, ever capitalize that word, ever) will not only continue to serve as apologists to the person who outright fomented and encouraged this insurrection, but will also blame it on others and rewrite history in order to do so. They will carry on as before, perpetuating their lies, merely to salvage the support of the reprehensible individuals who overran the Capitol, planting bombs, looking to take hostages, overthrow the government, and, according to at least one source, hold daylong executions. 

Even after the Capitol was retaken, order was restored inside, and the process of affirming and certifying the Electoral College votes was continued, arrogant and tone-deaf republicans still objected, adding fuel to the criminals' fire. They did this, knowing full well that it would not change the outcome. They did this for their own selfish interest, merely to court the votes of the animals who had stampeded into these politicians' sacred grounds of their own bastion of Democracy, hoping to keep their jobs for another term. 

They make me sick.

As do all supporters of this maniac. I have no use for any of them. The so-called christians (they don't get a capital letter anymore, either), evangelicals, and right-to-lifers who called him a godly president and thanked Jesus for him--they have the blood of thousands on their hands, including those who died in the coup attempt on January 6.  They have been fools and idiots, but that does not excuse them. Willful ignorance is no excuse. They got what they asked for. Sadly, we got what they asked for, too.

As I write this, the movement is underway to remove this horrifically dangerous individual by impeachment. Again. His cowardly cabinet slunk away under a flurry of resignations, and his bootlicking vice president is too beholden to that same trashy constituency to invoke the 25th Amendment. Is there any single republican individual who will do the right thing and help save this country? That is asking too much from republicans, who care only for themselves and their jobs. It is a sickness among them, this selfishness, and their supporters are too stupid to see it and too dumb to switch the channel away from Fox and OAN and other poisonous, treasonous outlets that are their opiates.

I have decided that my New Year will begin on January 20th, the exact moment that Joseph R. Biden is sworn in as President of the United States of America. I won't breathe a peaceful breath until that happens. I am not a believer, but I beseech the Universe provide him with safety. I keep thinking of President Lincoln's Inauguration and the snipers on the roof, their long guns at the ready. Like President Lincoln, President Biden is a man born for these times, a man born to unite this country.

I grieve the ideals of President Lincoln's party. How far they have fallen. 

The Politics: Grab Your Helmet And Strap In

I have reached the End Of My Patience with anyone and everyone who is finding a reason to support the individual currently occupying the White House. There is simply not a single reason--not one--that will justify tolerating his presence there. I don't care what kind of defense is offered. I have heard them all, and the only one that flies with me is this: "I am batshit crazy and I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

Sadly, without using those exact words, that is The Number One Reason much of his base will cast their votes for him. We all know the Number Two and Number Three reasons. They are, in no particular order, "I am, to some degree or another, a racist, and I am afraid of losing my privilege and my place atop society", and "I am voting with my wallet, which is an extension of my penis."

It's not lost on me that these reasons may all be interconnected and blended into One Big Reason for many people. Fear is a great motivator. And fear-mongering has been a tactic of republican campaigns for decades. Or republicans in general. 45* and his campaign people are merely studying previous campaigns, both real and fictional (he got some of his pointers from the TV show The West Wing: "Let Bartlett be Bartlett"), hence his reliance on catchphrases like calling himself a Wartime President and harping on Law and Order, a la Nixon.

Another Reason, and one which I find so terribly frustrating, is for the Single Issue Voters, and that is abortion. A segment of the electorate will overlook a raft of egregious behaviour, a multitude of sins in a panoply of categories, if this individual purports to be against abortion.

Which leads me to this: is anyone truly, enthusiastically for abortion? That's not really what the issue is, now is it? I resent that the people who are Anti-Choice are called Pro-Life. What bullshit. I. Am. Pro-Life. I am all about Life. I am against the Death Penalty. I am, however, Pro-Choice.

But I digress.

I know of one 45* voter who said, "I wish he'd just shut up. And stop tweeting." Why? Why is this a dealbreaker for you? This is Who He Is. These are his words, and they are his thoughts. This is the man you voted for. If he embarrasses you, if his thoughts and words shame him and you, then what do you think of his actions? This same voter STILL HAS NOT MADE UP HIS MIND ABOUT WHO TO VOTE FOR IN THE GENERAL ELECTION IN NOVEMBER! He said, "I have to wait to hear from Biden."

!!

Really? Haven't you heard enough from 45*? Immigrant children forever separated from their mothers; staff now in jail; impeached; under active investigation by the state of New York for financial crimes; accused of sexual crimes and rape by more than a dozen women; mocking and disrespecting government leaders; a bungled and slow response to COVID-19 that cost more than 100,000 lives and he takes no responsibility; he threatens his own citizens with their military...the list is endless. What could you possibly hear that would be worse than this?

These people are Part Of The Problem, and I'm done being tactful and pleasant. All of them are getting Blunt Truth from here on out. I'm just Over It. And that includes diehard Bernie people who are whiny toddlers at this point. It's Blue No Matter Who and Go Joe. Don't you dare give us 2016 again just because you can't get your way. Step up and do the Right Thing this time.

My anger and frustration are minuscule and do not even begin to compare to what the black community is feeling and expressing since the murder of George Floyd. How can anyone view the recorded evidence of these episodes and not be shocked and outraged? I cannot begin to imagine the heartbreak of having to raise my own sons with a talk about how to behave when approached by law enforcement, knowing it could be a life or death situation. There is a cultural shift at work now that is long overdue. I'm heartened that the people are taking the initiative with commitment and resolve, knowing that there is no support from the White House for this important work.

Which leads me to this:  I became aware of a website and Twitter feed, Republican Voters Against trump. On the site, former republicans share brief video stories of why they will never vote for 45* again, and, in some case, never vote republican again. It reaffirmed my faith in human beings, especially after some of the stories I have read and seen in the news. Here is one former republican, Paul, whose story really resonated:



Please share this website with anyone who needs to be aware of it. Sometimes I listen to a video just to reassure myself that there are still some Good People out there who just made one mistake.

Stay engaged, stay safe, stay kind, but Stand Firm. Don't let the Bad Guys win.


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I'm In A Mood: The Good, The Bad, And The Blues

Today finds me restless and a little bit fussy. I might have to go to Target just to feel smug about all the Back-to-School stuff on display.

But then I'd see all the Halloween candy and Christmas decorations and get snarky and irritated, so forget it.

Here are

Some Things I'm Cranky About

1. I'm sick of air conditioning.
2. I'm tired of figuring out dinner.
3. Cat Hair--holy effing crap.
4. No good tomatoes anyplace.
5. republicans.

You all get it, right? This summer has been a nightmare of heat and humidity, and while we're all Thankful for our AC, what wouldn't we give to shut it off and have open windows? For once? It's a goddam Hostage Crisis here at the Dept. My brain is like oatmeal from being entombed in here--cat hair covered oatmeal. Thanks to Number 5, my complaints are ridiculous, I know.

Yet, there is Gladness, too. Here are

Some Things I'm Happy About

1. I'm growing lovely basil in the herb garden.
2. We had a terrific trip up to Niagara-on-the-Lake last month.
3. Our wine cellar is restocked (and then some).
4. I'm reading like a maniac.
5. And doing crosswords in ink.

Last summer, my herb garden suffered from whitefly and some mystery ailment that spotted the basil leaves and left holes all over them. This year, better plants and the high heat/humidity are a boon to my pesto production. For those of you interested in the book "Before We Were Yours", I enjoyed it a great deal. It's a novel based upon true events. I disliked the alternating narrators/time frames construct, but it built suspense (there is a bit of the mystery element in here, too). I do recommend it. (As I do the wine from the Niagara-on-the-Lake and Twenty Valley/Bench regions.)

Oh, I would be remiss if I did not mention

This Thing I'm Sad About

Toni Morrison, who was born and raised in the same town I was, died this week. To say she was a brilliant writer is to damn with faint praise. I was lucky enough to meet her many, many years ago when I was a student teacher. She came to her alma mater, Lorain High School, for a special assembly, and thoughtful people there arranged for me to say hello. I remain in awe of her talent and her knowledge of writing. She was a writer's writer; her books are art. They make her immortal.

Now you...
Is summertime losing its charm for you? Share some Goods, Bads, and Blues of your own. Or, as always, just chat about these in Comments.


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Change Your Life: Third In A Series--If At First You Don't Succeed, Build, Build, Build

I'm not even going to pretend that this week's Sentence has the potential to Change Your Life. It's so shopworn, so banal, so BeenThereDoneThat as to have formed the basis of innumerable Talks and Lectures given to not only Me, but my three siblings hundreds and hundreds of times Way Back When. The speaker was my father, to whom Character Building was not only the World's Noblest Pursuit, it was also the one in which we should become the most proficient. By the time I was about fourteen, there was nothing I hated more than Character Building, unless it was perhaps Building Character.

Here is Life-Changing Sentence Number Three (as I suffer a few shuddery flashbacks):

You learn more from failure than from success; don’t let it stop you. Failure builds character.

Okay, first of all, it's not A sentence; it's two. And it's way too long and wordy to be truly successful as a life-changing mantra or a motto. It's like they crammed three separate ideas into one:

You learn more from failure than from success!
Don't let failure stop you! (And isn't this implied in the first saying?)
Failure builds character!

(I added all those exclamation marks to keep myself from falling asleep.)

By now I want to remind a lot of people that, whilst many do, in fact, learn from Failure, a huge percentage of people do not. They go on to repeat the same mistakes, hoping for a different outcome and creating collateral damage along the way. The jails are full of Failing People, the schools are full of Failing People, the court system is full of Failing People, the republican party is full of Failing People, and hell--my grocery store was full of Failing People today who continued to leave their carts in the middle of the aisle whilst they wandered all around and gathered their items. I push their carts along, adding a few things I want them to have when they're not looking. Do they learn? No.

It is also clear to see that the Failure of the republican party to keep their majority in the House of Representatives taught them nothing at all. Nor did it seem to build any Character.

Aside from the nitpicky or the obvious, this Sentence is okay at best. Lots of valuable information can be learned from Failures IF you choose to analyze your mistakes, own them, and correct them. And you can Build Character by being humble and learning where your weaknesses are and, if necessary, asking for help. But while this Sentence is generic and general, it's also potentially plain wrong.

I learned a lot from my Successes in several arenas such as teaching, writing, parenting. In some cases, I learned more from Successes than Failures. Not everyone has to fail in order to learn a great deal or a powerful lesson. Many times I found that piling up Successes taught my students more and was more helpful for them personally and emotionally. (That, my friends, helps Build Character!)

I learned an endless amount about Life And Other Things from my father. I still call up his wisdom to this day. Things he told me for the forty-one years I had with him occur to me far more often than I could ever have imagined. But after many of his lectures about Character or Character-Building, all I ever felt was exhausted and angry.

Here's the thing: sometimes, Failure should stop you. If you aren't good at something and it makes you miserable, stop it immediately. Go do Something Else. And not everything can be about Building Character. Sometimes lousy stuff is just Stuff You Have To Get Through and your Character is already fine with or without it. Not everything has to mean something.  Nor will it.

I think I would have felt way better if I had been told that and been given a big hug.

So here is "Sentence" #3 again: You learn more from failure than from success; don’t let it stop you. Failure builds character.

Did this "give you the power to go on" or "change your life for the better" as the article promised? Let's talk about it in Comments.

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Politics And Precious Cargo In The Prius

Scene opens on the interior of Nance's car, driven by Rick.  Nance is seated in the passenger's side.  Rick's phone sounds, signaling the arrival of a text message. He picks it up and...

Nance: (outraged) Excuse me, but are you going to risk our lives and look at your phone right now?

Rick: (calm, eyes on the road) Nance, I was just--

Nance: (undeterred) Is my life so trivial to you that you're willing to risk it for a text message? Especially right here, where all those Trump voters come rushing out of that side road right there! Without even looking.

Rick: (sighs; pulls onto entrance ramp) How do you know that they're all Trump voters? You've got to stop being so judgy about everybody just because of where they live.

Nance: I know that they are. You know it, too. Everyone around here voted for him.

Rick:  That house there, with the Register To Vote Here sign, also has a Sherrod Brown* sign in the yard.

Nance:  And Janet Garret* and you're deflecting. The point is, I would prefer you remember that when you have me in the car, you are transporting precious cargo. (thinks for a moment; smiles wickedly) As a matter of fact, from now on, I would really like it if you would start calling me Precious Cargo. Or PC, if you'd prefer.

Rick: (grins; accelerates into traffic) Okay, Precious Cargo.

End Scene.

*fine Democratic candidates for office; I am in love with Senator Sherrod Brown and have been forever.


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Free-For-All Friday: Let Us Bitch

I must be feeling better because I'm getting feisty and I'm getting restless. Whatever Patience I've managed to manufacture is wearing thin, and I'm starting to feel that staticky energy under my skin. A whole bunch of things large and small are irritating the hell out of me, and lest I blow my stack and create some serious Collateral Damage, I'm going to let loose a little steam here. I hope you'll join me in Comments and then have a relatively serene weekend.

The Dishwasher: Hey, listen: no one is happier than I am that I can load up my yucky dishes in a machine and then settle in and watch Dateline or whatever gritty Chicago-themed drama is on television and have clean dishes to show for my effort. My problem is that with all the advances in technology, why does it still take two goddam hours for the dishwasher to do its thing? I don't get it. I mean, we give it rinsed-off dishes, for goodness' sake. It's not like it has to scrape plates and pry off stuck-on meatloaf detritus, or polish silver or anything. I feel like dishwashers should have advanced to the point where they take half an hour, tops, to get the job done. Come on.

republicans: Nope. Still not capitalizing it. At this point, it's painfully obvious that they are...actually, I don't have a clue what in the hell they are. Not one. How pitiful is it that this bunch of lying, spineless, soulless animals are making Bush 43 and his administration look good? The retirements of incumbent republicans are coming thick and fast, and it's not because they are finding their conscience. It's because they are afraid of being primaried out by lowlifes and white nationalists handpicked by the far-right element that hijacked the party way back when they were charmingly called the tea party. John McCain can speechify his outrage all he wants, but he opened the door and legitimized them all when he chose their pinup girl as his running mate and never admitted his mistake. They all--every single one of them--owe President Lincoln an apology.

Christmas Creep: It's almost not worth mentioning anymore, but if I don't bitch about it, then the terrorists win. The onslaught of Christmas commercials began immediately on November 1st. IMMEDIATELY. Lexus is already running its "December to remember" ads. Christmas trees are all over the airwaves and I just know that the cruelly annoying Old Navy commercials are imminent. IS IT OKAY WITH RETAILERS EVERYWHERE IF I HAVE THANKSGIVING FIRST? Yesterday morning I took a walk and noted with relieved approval that the massively overdone Halloween display around the corner was already down. But then I noticed that it was being replaced with Christmas decorations. My hanging geraniums are still blooming on my front porch. I just had a waterlily on my pond. I snipped fresh oregano and parsley the other day. Many of the trees still have green leaves. WHAT IN THE HELL IS EVERYONE'S BIGASS HURRY?  I am unlikely to feel Jolly if I am Bludgeoned and Assaulted by Christmas a full seven weeks before it arrives.  Thank heaven I have a fully-stocked wine cellar (even though our wine refrigerator called it quits; I know--First World Problems).

Sigh.

Your turn.  What do you have to Bitch About?  Feel free to crab about these and/or add your own in Comments. 

And Now A Brief Political Message

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Donald Tr--

Oh, god.  Still?

Yes.  It hasn't even been a year yet.

F*^k.




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Is Anyone Out There?

Anyone at all?

Oh, I do hope so. I'm popping in for a Quick Hello, just to check in and give a brief Update Of Sorts, and then I am planning to get back to Business As Usual after my Jaunt next week. I've just about Had It with Being Unwell and even moreso with Talking About It. Let's wrap it up, then, and Move On.

The Medicals: My labs were a sort of mixed bag, but the whole Vitamin D Thing, which was the Most Important Of All, showed a massive recovery. I am well into the satisfactory/healthy range, so I am on the maintenance dose for life, and feeling so much better. No pains, no fatigue, and while my stamina and strength are still an issue, they are s-l-o-w-l-y increasing. My autoimmune system is still, in a word, terrible; however, unless I am plagued by recurrent infections (I am not), it's not a cause for concern. I no longer need to see my Superhero Rheumatologist who gave me my life back, but will now see the Internist she highly recommended. I burst into tears thanking this doctor and all but prostrated myself at her feet in a weeping huddle of gratitude.

The Universe Is Cruel: My dear friend Shirley wrote me a nice email, and in it she expressed sympathy overall regarding my health struggles, and mentioned specifically how difficult it is to practice serene self-care and recovery whilst the Orange Nightmare/Toddler In Chief is wreaking shitful havoc. It's absolutely true. I feel abused by the Universe, which allowed this abomination, yet felt it necessary to screw me again on Sunday, when it put a rogue piece of gravel in my path, and I fell and sprained my ankle. Because, Life is not difficult enough for me. At least I am used to resting--A LOT--and the sprain was mild. I am almost fully recovered today although stairs are a bitch. (Count me as a fervent disciple of the RICE protocol for sprain treatment).

The Jaunt: I am a little overwhelmed at the thought of, but am looking forward to, our upcoming Niagara-on-the-Lake jaunt as a true getaway from Everything. I think I need a real change of scenery. My wine-drinking capacity is sadly and sorely diminished, but I have no problem doing the Swish-n-Spit as we look to restock our depleted cellar. I only hope Rick is not too bored since we cannot do our usual long, lovely walks by the lake and into the trails. That will have to wait until autumn. In the meantime, we will find other things to do, like attend theatre and taking Short Walks.

I'm anxious for Things to be all back to Normal again. My patience--such as it is--is very frayed. I am restless and bored. This is not the life for me. At the same time, I am beyond grateful that my condition was reversible and treatable. I know so many people whose lives are forever changed by serious illness, and I know how very fortunate I am.

Thank you for staying with me. I'll be back real soon.


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A Bunch Of Stuff Off The Top Of My Head

Obviously, I'm in a Writing Slough Of Sloth. If I wait until I have Something Valuable To Say, this spot will collect cyber-cobwebs and digital dustbunnies. So! I'm going to just reach into my head, grab whatever I find, and see what we think.

Here we go.

Wake Me Up When: 1. Winter is really over. 2. republicans knock it the hell off/are extinct. 3. He's arrested and frog-marched out of the White House with his staff. 4. Wine is the cure for migraine. 5. Joe Biden is President*.
*Since we can't have Hillary, because Woman. (And actual Fake News. Thanks, Facebook.)

Either No One Ever Told Me Or I Was Young And Therefore Stupid: Holy Crap, what is the deal with suddenly becoming as dry as those bleached bones in the desert? I used to have oily skin, oily hair, plenty of spit, and the ability to wear contacts and grow my nails long, longer, longest. I had to wash my hair every day--hell, when I was a teenager, I would sometimes use dishwashing liquid! Now that I am technically Too Old to be termed even Of A Certain Age, I can go two or three days before my hair becomes oily or flat. My contacts are a misery; my skin is taut and painful this winter. My hands are strangers to me, with their ragged cuticles and peely nails kept short by necessity. Did anyone ever foretell this Sadness? Probably I laughed merrily, tossed my brilliant locks, and waved them off with my long-nailed hand. What a heartless bitch I was, surely.

When Your Husband Is A Carpenter And You Are A Knitter: As you, Dear Readers, well know, I accompany Rick on many of his Outings to stores For Him, such as Home Depot and Harbor Freight and the like. It's not always All Bad, as there are more than a few things there which are Multipurpose and Handy for other things, and some of the stores, like Rural King, even have baby ducks, which are the most charming animals in the world (possibly). After seeing me linger over one Handy Item, my husband bought me one as a gift, so it could become my Knitting Caddy. Here it is, and I love it:

It has a place for everything! Eight side pockets hold my stitch markers, spare glasses, lotion, stitch counter, tapestry needles, scissors, you name it. Deep end pockets hold a small tablet and pen, pattern, and circ needle packet. A loop on the end even holds a large safety pin, used to hold stitches when I make my charity bears. And, as a bonus, when I hold it on my lap and prop my elbows on it, it keeps my knitting at eye level and my shoulders squared, just what the physical therapist ordered to combat my cervical myofasciitis. (Bonus: it is, apparently, an Excellent Cat-Chin-Scratching-Edifice.)

Everyone Stop:  1. Quoting Twitter as a News Source. 2. Overusing the word amazing (still!). 3. Telling me that Spring Officially Starts Next Week. 4. Saying Daylight SavingS Time (THERE IS NO 'S').  5. Putting up holiday decorations if you cannot take them down in a timely manner.

Okay.  Your turn.  I can't wait for you to peel off a little brain banana or two in Comments or chat about mine.



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Mourning In America

We have met the enemy, and they are Us.



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The Dept. Of Nance Is Eleven

theblog.artim.ca

The Dept. of Nance is Eleven! Trust me; that is far more astonishing a fact to me than it is to you. The Very Idea that I have been yammering on here for that long is almost as Crazy as the Notion that People Still Read Me. And often have Things To Say right back.

Incredible.

And so very Nice.

Eleven itself, as a Number, does not bring to mind anything I can use as a Theme, so I shall borrow a tired old construct and use the letters of the word ELEVEN and yada yada from there.

E is for Eternity. As in how long the Olympics from Rio seem to be lasting. This blog has seen SIX Olympics, starting with the Turin (Italy) Winter Games. I am absolutely certain that the Rio Summer Games are Eleven times longer. Rick has already complained that he cannot come home from work and unwind by watching Dr. Phil because our local NBC affiliate insists on having 90 minutes of news instead. And results are all over the Interwebs and aforementioned news, so unless the event is live, there is no point watching anything time-delayed. We already know the outcomes.

L is for Lists. I've done lots and lots of them on dozens of topics, both here and over at my now-defunct blog that I used to co-write with Jared, Stuff On Our List. Between the two of us, we've listed favourite pies, cakes, Christmas music, and most-hated songs played on the radio. We listed ways to turn around a bad day and Stuff That Is Dead To Us. In 2010 I listed my Five Most Dangerous Food Nemeses, and in 2016, they are still the same. But The List--you know The One--has changed a bit. I think it's almost time we Revisit that in another whole post.

E is for Elections. The Dept. of Nance is normally Very Political. While I make no secret of my Party Affiliation (Strenuously Democrat), I am so disgusted and disappointed in my country this year that I generally have refrained from The Politics this go-round. I have long decried The Wisdom Of The American People as nonexistent. This presidential Election proves it via the entire republican party and the media who had a major hand in creating its nominee, as well as the party faithfuls who continue to support and countenance him, even while they denounce his statements and sentiments. That they would sacrifice their entire country and its people in the name of a party victory or affiliation is revolting. And lest anyone think I am equating the republican nominee with the Democrat in any way, let me be clear: I'm With Her. And like Senator Sanders, I'm sick and tired of hearing about her damn emails. And all of it has caused me to break my Self-Imposed Ban Against Using The Eff Word. So there's That.

V is for Victory! The Dept. of Nance has long celebrated books, authors, poetry, poets, and all manner of writing and reading. It was with the Most Profound Sadness that I wrote about the deaths of some of my favourite authors like JD Salinger, Arthur Miller, and most recently, Harper Lee. Another Great Sadness was my inability for the past two years or so to read books. I mourned this loss so keenly; books were always a huge part of my life. Well, as of June, I'm back to reading as before! I'm so happy. And the book that broke the spell? My old reliable that I reread every June, Gone with the Wind.

E is for Eating.  In the early years of this blog, I wrote often about the protracted and terrible dramas our family enacted when trying to decide What To Have For Dinner. Unfortunately, though the characters are reduced by half, these skits are ongoing. Both Rick and I are bored with food a great deal of the time, and we are ashamed to say so, knowing that there are vast populations of the world going hungry. I try to snap myself out of it and, in bursts of Culinary Energy, create marvelous entrees to great admiration, but then back into the Slough Of Suppertime Despair I go.  Perhaps I need to take a Vitamin.

N is for Necessities.  When I first began writing here at this space, my Necessities Of Life were high heels, red pens, coffee, and martinis.  And, of course, the migraine drugs.  Now my Necessities Of Life still include the migraine drugs and coffee, but that coffee is half-caff.  I've pretty much traded in my martinis for wine because these days, I'm a very cheap drunk.  And I still have all my high heels, but I only visit them in the upstairs closet, like trophies in a case.  As far as red pens, I do all my editing and commenting on documents in a computer program, so those are another relic of a previous life.  (A friend just asked me, upon hearing that school started here this week, if I missed it. All things considered, the answer is still No. )  So, what are my New Necessities Of Life?  Migraine Drugs, Coffee, Wine, ... oh, that last one.  Such a Toughie.

Let's enjoy some cake whilst we mull it over.  Happy Eleven, Everyone.  I think there's enough.

image via Bing/Pinterest

And Now For Something Completely Different: The Dept. Might Crash The Convention In Cleveland And Offer Its Own Nostalgic Nominee

Scene opens on a living room setting. Rick is in his big easy chair; Nance is curled up on the end of the couch. Both are watching the national news; its first story is another depressingly shocking one featuring a taped segment of the republican party's Presumptive Nominee.

Nance: Oh my god. You have got to be kidding me. What a--
Rick: I know. Disgusting. And--
Nance: How can anyone...? I mean, what can anyone see in that maniacal idiot that makes him think, 'This is someone I want as my President'?
Rick: (glancing over at Piper, the huge orange cat) Piper would make a better President than he would.
Nance: He really would. He is far more stable, and much more Zen.
Rick: Well, you'd have to be his translator. And nothing could get started until after 7 AM, when he finishes his breakfast.
Nance: And everything would have to stop again at 5 PM for his snack.
Rick: And again at 9 PM for his dessert.
Nance: And don't forget his Big Nap from 10 AM until 2 PM every day.
Rick: That's right. And sometimes he runs over and sleeps even longer than that. And gets another one in from 6PM until his dessert at 9.
Nance: So...basically, a rerun of the Reagan Presidency!

End Scene.

r Is For republicans

Even in the title, I cannot bring myself to capitalize the R and give this political party any respect whatsoever, especially now.

My longtime readers have journeyed with me through both terms of the Angel Of Death (Bush 43), including my Despair of the Election Of The Dark Times. We watched my Countdown Clock until a Democrat finally sat in The Big Chair in the White House, and together we mocked the teapartiers with great mirth, critiquing their sad, poorly-executed signage. I declared my own suitability for Vice President, my love for past Democratic Presidents and Presidential Candidates, and offered to serve as a nonpartisan government Department of my own.

All of this Good Fun aside, for me The Politics is Serious Business, especially Presidential Politics. To put it into perspective, let me share a brief story with you:

In April, Rick and I were visiting a winery in Ontario, Canada, whose owner/winemaker was born in Poland. As we tasted and chatted, he wanted to talk Politics. He conveyed a deep dismay with the United States' embrace of its current republican standard bearer. "I don't understand," he said. "This guy is a clown, a television personality. He has no political experience, no diplomatic intelligence."

I assured him that I, for one, was not only disgusted by this candidate, but alarmed by him. "The American press and media have created a monster," I told him. "Because he makes good TV and good copy, they have legitimized and inflated his candidacy. And the republican party fringe element has found its Poster Boy. I could not be more disappointed and embarrassed."

"But Americans," my host continued rather passionately and knowingly, "they have to remember. They are not just electing a president of their country. They are, in fact, really electing a President of the Whole World. Don't they realize or think of that?"

Sigh.

I have to say, I seriously doubt that any of the republicans who have endorsed the current Presumptive Nominee of their party (however tepidly or reluctantly) have thought of that. At all. These pompous, cowardly, self-righteous self-preservationists have blindly put Party before Country and Position before Constituency. They would rather Fill The Chair than Help The Country. Or the Whole World.

It is repulsive.

Even as some republicans meekly condemn this yahoo nominee as racist or bigoted or wrongheaded or whatever, they always conclude their remarks with a statement of support. Even so-called Christian groups are conflicted, some conditionally withholding support, depending upon whether the presumptive republican nominee woos them effectively. Ugh.

How dare this party call itself The Party Of Lincoln? It bears no resemblance whatsoever to that assemblage, the one which railed against slavery and passed the Thirteenth Amendment. It was President Lincoln who said of one political party:

"I am not a Know-Nothing. That is certain. How could I be? How can any one who abhors the oppression of negroes, be in favor of degrading classes of white people? Our progress in degeneracy appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we began by declaring that “all men are created equal.” We now practically read it “all men are created equal, except negroes.” When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read “all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics.” When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretense of loving liberty—to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocrisy."

It is a short bit of editing to make his remarks ring true for Today:

I am not a republican. That is certain. How could I be? How can any one who abhors the oppression of women, be in favor of degrading classes of any people? Our progress in degeneracy appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we began by declaring that “all men are created equal.” We now practically read it “all men are created equal, except Muslims.” When the republicans get control, it will read “all men are created equal, except Muslims, and women, and Mexicans.” When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretense of loving liberty—to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocrisy.

No, this republican party is not The Party Of Lincoln. It's more like the Know-Nothing Party; the name--with this nominee especially--is a much better fit by far.

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G Is For Gallimaufry

Sigh. I know I'm almost cheating with this one. But G is proving to be a toughie for some reason, the greatest being that I am in a Terrible SAD Funk right now (Seasonal Affective Disorder). February always kicks me around pretty well, and trust me, I am bruised and battered.

And if One More Person says to me, "Hey, at least this winter has not been as bad as Last Year!" I will, with some Pleasantness, smack that Person right in the mouth.

Okay.

Onward, then! (She said brightly.)

This Week's Gallimaufry Of Miscellany

1. Shut Up Shut Up Shut Up. I would pay Actual Money if I could eliminate a Certain Name from all newscasting for the foreseeable future. Someone needs to invent this...this Thing wherein you could program your television and/or remote control to recognize words and immediately silence, bleep, or change them into a word you like better. Wouldn't that be so wonderful? I especially like that last option. I would change all mentions of a Certain Gameshow republican to Daniel Day-Lewis, a name I never tire of hearing. Or maybe something really cute, like Koala Ballerina. Can you imagine it? "In other news, Koala Ballerina, presumptive republican presidential nominee, has taken to Twitter to silence his critics." Or, "republican nominee Daniel Day-Lewis is hoping to meet with Pope Francis in order to put any perceived bitterness to rest."

2. Crazy Cat Lady. In my dining room right now are two boxes; I made a special trip to the warehouse club in order to procure them. They are tricked out, cut up, and otherwise Creatively Fashioned so that the cats will hopefully be interested in them and stop eating my iPhone and iPad charger cords. They are, basically, Busy Boxes For Cats. At any given moment, one of the cats is, instead, sleeping in them. Not sure if this is a Win.

3. Not In My House. We recently redid the home office. I opted for streamlined stuff, a camel/black/ivory colour scheme, and a mix of textures for the room. I did not, however, opt for this:

Someone get a pulse!

Lee Eun Kyoung's Free Hug Sofa. Thanks, but No.

(Even though it sounds like I could use a hug.)

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The Dept. Is Back And With A New Feature: Ask A Large Cat

The Dept. is back, and with a new Feature, Ask A Large Cat. Without any Further Ado, here is Piper, resident Large Cat, to answer your Queries.

Query 1: Is it Just Me, or is Christmas feeling Blah and Tedious this year?
Large Cat: I feel the same way. I don't even watch Nance wrap gifts this year; I just lie under the tree and sleep. Here in NEO, everyone thinks it is due to the weather, which is extremely warm and snowless. I think that's Zzzzzz.

Query 2: Do you think the rest of the world is laughing at us due to Donald Trump leading in the polls?
Large Cat: No. I think they are shaking their heads in dismay and pity. The laughter ended with the re-election of George W. Bush.

Query 3: Every year, I ask for a pair of navy blue or red leather riding style boots. They do not exist. I don't understand why. I feel like they should, and that I cannot be the only one who thinks so. What's the deal?
Large Cat: Look, I understand. I feel like my dish should always be full of either albacore tuna or, at the very least, wet cat food. Keep hoping. I do.

Query 4: Our dog--
Large Cat: Next.

Query 5: I keep reading articles about tipping everyone at Christmas. Is this really necessary?
Large Cat: I don't think so. It sounds like a New York Thing to me. If you get regular service from the same people all the time, like a regular groomer or a regular mail carrier or pet sitter, then I would give them a tip. But tipping everyone sounds worky. And expensive. And tiring.

Query 6: Are gift bags okay to use, or are they tacky?
Large Cat: I really prefer boxes. They are cozy, and I can curl right up in them as long as they don't have some off-putting tissue paper in there. Gift bags tip over and require jumping and depth perception and quick risk-assessment.

Query 7: Is your Christmas shopping done?
Large Cat: I am a Gift Giver all year-round, and there are lint-rollers in two rooms to prove it. Sometimes I re-gift my breakfast.

Query 8: What do you want for Christmas?
Large Cat: A cat in the White House. Tuna every day. No more dog visits, ever. More quiet.

Query 9: With such impressive photos coming back from NASA's New Horizons spacecraft, and its myriad discoveries, do you think Pluto will be reassigned its planetary status within our solar system?
Large Cat: I wish.

This has been Ask A Large Cat, with Piper, resident Large Cat. The Dept. of Nance is pleased to be back after a Hiatus Of Sorts...sigh.

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.)

In Which I Analyze The republican Debate

Ladies and Gentlemen, we are living in Strange Times, indeed. The republicans are in a panic because someone exactly like Rush Limbaugh in temperament, class, and ethos is running for President of the United States under their imprimatur, and Faux News is crying foul because of the sexist and crude way this candidate treated its own female media personality. (Does anyone remember Sandra Fluke?)

I'm too stunned to gloat.

Rather than get all calisthenic over a republican whom I refuse to take seriously, let's instead get down to something far more worthy of our discussion. Here is a picture of the candidates at the Big Boys' Debate, courtesy of US News.

Who dressed these people?

These men are all wealthy, have staffs, and, I assume, know women who probably looked at them before they settled on these suits. Why, then, is there not more than one among them who can wear a properly fitted and hemmed pair of pants? 

 It's inexcusable, really.

The only one who has a pair of nicely fitting pants of appropriate length is Senator Rubio (second from left). Governor Christie is wearing what we used to call "High Waters" back when I was in high school. Dr. Carson, third from left, looks like he has crotch problems, or as if he is standing astride an invisible bicycle or hobby horse. The rest all have that terrible, sloppy puddle of fabric around their ankles. My sons used to have that when they wore those enormous baggy jeans back in the nineties, and I absolutely hated it. Jared used to go so far as to slit the sides of his pantlegs at the ankles so that his jeans would fit down over his enormous and massively padded hightop basketball sneakers, which he left untied and flapping and which I also hated.

Another problem up there is the questionable footwear of the Robot Representing Senator Rand Paul (second from right). Perhaps he is into Steampunk and is actually sporting a pair of these.  This was not SalonCon, Senator.

Maybe, maybe I can almost tolerate the Armani Break of the pants of the candidate fourth from the left up there.  The Armani Break--also known as the Full Break--is still awfully messy-looking. I can't remember who That Guy even  is.  Oh yeah, Governor Walker, the guy who equates Teachers to ISIS fighters.

(I wish I could see their ties in this photo, but I'm sure they're very pedestrian and ho-hum.  Not an inspiration among them. Where is Greg Feith when you need him?)

We're in for a Very Entertaining Primary Season, everyone.  Like at least One Of The Candidates, why should I discuss The Issues when other topics (pants!) are so much more...pressing?

Try not to groan at me in Comments.

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The Summer Of Crows

After I waxed Nostalgic and Reverent in my last post about birds, J. in Comments reminded me that a great many birds (as well as all sorts of other species in Nature) can be real assholes. It reminded me of an incident that I wanted to share with you. Several, actually, and as I began thinking more and more, I wondered if I was actually a Nature Appreciator after all.  Many times Rick and I have had to wrest control away from the animals, and it has not been pretty. Especially when Rick gets involved.

(In any case, I am still Deeply Committed to my resolution to name all pesky critters after republicans, and I will photograph them and share them in a post later.)

But I digress.

One summer many years ago, we were awakened at an ungodly hour by the raucous and persistent screaming of crows. It wasn't even quite light outside yet, and the noise was jarring. It kept up, back and forth and back and forth, for over an hour. It was close, too, and I had it pegged to the huge evergreen in the yard catty-corner behind us. We shut our bedroom windows, but it didn't really help; our house is tiny, and the rest of the windows in it were open. That sound rocketed around the whole place, and we couldn't go back to sleep. I really felt bad for Rick, who was not on summer vacation like me and the boys. He had a full day's work ahead of him. We could take it easy all day. The boys, by the way, slept through it all the way children often do.

We had never seen a crow in the neighborhood, so we figured it was an anomaly and that there wouldn't be a repeat performance. We were wrong. For days and days, we were awakened at first light by this screeching serenade. Rick was exhausted; I was frustrated and angry. We were able to see our tormentors in the boughs of the pine tree, just as I had thought. What sounded like a whole gang was only two crows. With horror, I contemplated the idea of them nesting there.

Finally, one Saturday morning, Rick had had enough. "That's it!" he said. "I'm done with this bullshit." He bolted from our bed, clad only in his boxer briefs. I sat up. "What are you going to do?" I asked, more than a little fearful. He looked weary, grim, and to be honest, desperate.

He didn't even answer me. The next thing I heard was his heavy footfall on the steps to the back door. I heard the door open, and I leaned to look out the window. What I saw next must have made me turn into the embodiment of Edvard Munch's The Scream.

There was my husband, on our deck in the back yard, lying on the chaise longue in his underwear, aiming the Daisy BB gun rifle up into the towering pine, and calmly firing at the crows. After each shot, he quickly cocked it, returned it to his shoulder, lined up the sight, and fired again. Over and over, he repeated this, never changing his expression until once he said, "Got him" with satisfaction and a brief, one-sided smile. I knew the little Daisy couldn't kill a crow, especially at that distance, but I knew it could sting it, and it could definitely discourage it. I hoped our birdbrained alarm clock was finally broken.

It's probably worth noting that our neighborhood in a tightly-packed little suburb is an old street where houses are separated only by the width of a narrow driveway. We can hear one another sneeze inside our homes, and our neighbor to the west had an elevated deck, flush with the top step out of her back door. She probably wouldn't have been the least bit surprised, however, to have come out and looked down upon that particular tableau. Her son used to call my husband "Funny Rick." (But my sons were his babysitters.)

Anyway.

The Boxer Brief BB Gun Caper did solve our crow problem. The pair left, and we have not had a crow landing since. No neighbors witnessed the event, and as far as I know, no wildlife was harmed in the process. This time. But because Rick is often called upon to rescue us from Wildlife, he has tangled with many, many varmints. I think this may have to be a series.

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