Reports From the Homeland...

The reports are beginning to come in. My friends are posting their pictures online. This photo was sent to me from an anthropologist. She is ordained as an Episcopalian minister and is working as a manager for a fortune 500 company. She is bold in her efforts. She posted her pictures online with her name attached. She is unafraid to let others know what she is doing. 

Other friends from Seattle, Portland, Flint, Austin, Charleston and many other places are also sending out their pictures. Like me, they still feel that we have the right to protest. I wonder if they too were cautioned that their photos might at some point be used as evidence against them, and they just don't care. That kind of prosecution is not supposed to happen here. But many things that we grew up believing don't happen here are happening now. 

My friends are telling stories of meeting people at the protests that less than a year ago voted for the regime in power. They say that this isn't what they were voting for. When they voted to deport the criminals, they weren't voting to deport the pastor of the Spanish speaking church or the coach of their kid's baseball team. Now they realize that the criminal with 34 felonies, the adjudicated rapist, is actually running the country. It would be all to easy to just say, "FAFO, I guess you didn't see the leopard coming for your face." I wonder how many more of them will

be at the next protest when they realize that the disabled child they know was kicked off of Medicaid; that they got no warning of an impending storm because the program was cut; that the roadway project to fix the potholes in their streets and the projects to fix the bridges and dams where they live have been gutted. The money was all diverted to give tax breaks to the already very wealthy. 

It used to be those other people who protested, who got out in the streets and made the government listen. Now it must be all of us.

And Maybe It Happened...

Not saying either way, but it may have happened. So, if we were there at Toomer's Corner yesterday the feeling was to not post any pictures online that could identify anyone. The rumor being that the 🟠💩administration might at some point run out of immigrants to harass and start deporting protestors. You know, don't rat out your neighbor. Maybe I was there, or maybe I wasn't. 

And if I happened to be there, innocently holding a sign and looking around, I might have been surprised that in this very red state hundreds of people were hanging around some trees that suffer from toilet paper poisoning. Not that anyone was tossing toilet paper, the football team hadn't won a game after all. I mean if there had been anyone there at all.

It was hot, and the air was soupy. So, if I had gone, I had to leave early or get sick from the heat. And if the teenager had been with me, I would have thought he'd complain about having to leave early. But if he was there, he was more interested in going home and playing video games in the air conditioning than standing out in the heat. Priorities, after all...

I'm not saying it happened, but you know...it could have... And kudos to the people walking around handing out red, white and blue popsicles.
 

Cluttered

I keep trying to write this blog post, and when I get the words written out, I realize that I have gone too far. I will be telling a story that is not mine to tell. It will reveal things that someone else may consider private. (Nothing illegal, or immoral. Just something someone else might not want discussed in public.) A blog is gossip, after all. You get one side of any story that is told.

We live in a cluttered place. It's very small and there are three of us. We all have our things and they kind of compete for space. We see each other's things: mail, purchases, laundry, medication. And this is where it becomes not my story to tell. It frustrating, because it affects me, and my hygge. And deep down, I know that as much as it isn't my story, it isn't my responsibility either. My best bet is to let it rest. 

I'm a clean as you go type person, and a semi-un-fit housekeeper at that. The house will be clean enough to eat off the plates, but you don't want to set up your charcuterie on the floor. The floors get vacuumed. swept, and mopped every day. I keep dishes washed, surfaces wiped down, furniture dusted. It's clean enough. 

In my mind, the clutter equals depression. In reality, it is mostly caused because there are three of us in a small space and our things compete for space. There is a component of depression there. We are all three recovering from recent trauma. 

I need to do more to deal with my depression. I told myself on the train here that I'd seek counseling when I got here. Then I said I would get help when my insurance got changed over. Now I have no excuse really. So, I say as soon as I get back from Chicago. I'm putting it off. As easy as it is to overshare on social media about other people, calling it venting or telling my story, it is hard to do it when the person I'm venting about is myself, when it's me being scrutinized. I want to control my private things. 

 

Where Have All The Old Blogs Gone?

I'm becoming more undisciplined in my old age than a teenager on summer break. I sleep when I want, eat what I want, waste massive hours of time doing whatever I want. It's fine to do here (at least for now). Tim and Jack tend to keep odd schedules themselves and don't seem to mind my selfishness. 

So, in keeping with my lifestyle of time wasting, I have spent a good portion of the morning perusing my blogger reading list. I follow over 100 blogs, but most of them aren't active anymore. I kind of knew this because when I log in to read blogs, I am only seeing the same 10 or so bloggers anymore. That led me to nostalgia. Remember the good old days?  The Cheerful Oncologist...Radish King...37 Paddington...Six until Me... there were so many more. And I realize as I am typing this, that I too, am part of the problem. Like everything else in my lack of discipline, I am an undisciplined blogger. I blog when it suits me. That doesn't make me a very good friend, even if it is a virtual one. My sincerest apologies. I am trying to get better. The new computer helps.

I worry that blogging is becoming a thing of the past. You know, one of those odd things boomers did, like chat rooms and dial-up internet. It has been a decades long lifeline to me. I really don't want to see it go away.

July

It's July 2nd already. In a few days will be the 249th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. I feel like I should celebrate.  It may be the last opportunity I get to do it. Who knows if we will even still have a country to celebrate for the Semiquincentennial. 

More than one of the most memorable 4ths that I've ever had were spent at a fort that is less than 40 miles from here. But Tim will be working, and I won't have transportation, let alone a pass to get in the gates. But I'd love to be there, to see the fireworks, to hear taps softly playing at the end of the night. to remember normal.

I honestly have no plans for the day, none for the evening.  Maybe I will take a trip to Toomers Corner to join the No Kings protest. That seems a better use of my time anyway. The larger protests will be in the big cities, Montgomery and Birmingham. But if we are protesting everywhere, they can't attack us all. There are more of us than there are of them. The flag is wrong. It must have been drawn by a republican. They don't seem to understand what it is, or what it means.

In other news, Mollie is finishing the program she's been training at to become a radiology tech. After the mid-term grades were available, the decision was made to let her take the boards early. That is almost unheard of. She will be taking them on July 10. If she passes, she's done with her training. And she already has a very good paying job. The hospital where she did her clinicals approached her and asked her to apply. For once she is quite proud of herself. She should be and I'm glad to see it. She is normally self-defacing no matter how well she has done. 

There will be a ceremony on the 24th to celebrate the achievement. She will be getting a pin? I will be flying up to be there for it. 🙁 Yes, flying. It started out as a road trip, but car issues changed those plans. No matter, I have round trip tickets and will be there. I would be happy to never have to fly again. I could take Amtrak, but it would be twice as expensive as flying. And I didn't get a deal on the airline tickets. I booked them a few weeks ago, and then, not even a week later I found out that the airlines have dropped their prices. I went back on to the site and found out that it was a substantial drop. But I booked the cheap flight that don't allow cancellations. I should just be happy that I can afford to travel. It will be nice to see Mollie again. It will be great to be celebrating with her in a city that specializes in celebrating. 

I have other travels planned for the fall. I'll be in Atlanta for my 50th high school reunion. My itinerary is already booked for that trip too. I have been approached by several of my former classmates asking if I'll be there. I really wasn't all that popular in high school, but we are all older now. We have different perspectives. 

And then the holidays...

Ring of Fire

Apparently, being on the outside edge of a heat dome is called being in the ring of fire. I'm not sure if it would be better to be in the center or in the ring. Violent storms break out in the ring and we experienced that last night. The sky above us was filled with lightning all night. The thunderstorms were intense and lasted for hours. Trees fell, tornadoes touched down and we lost a few lives to the storm.

But the heat broke. Temperatures today and forecasted for the rest of the month will not hit 90 degrees. I'm grateful for that much. 

Jack seems to think that he is a hobbit. He decided to wander out into the woods shortly before the storm started. It worried me. He stayed out through the worst of it, coming in after the rains had let up. I wonder what motivates young men to want to experience such foolishness. But he came home safe.

His father was out in it also, but for very different reasons. His ambulance was hit by a falling tree but was only slightly damaged. They were able to keep it in service.

Tonight, we are enjoying the cooler weather and a spectacular sunset. It feels like a testament to the idea that life goes on, even after the storm.

Hot!

It's hot! Hot and muggy, and it won't get any better for a few days. The last time I was sitting under a heat dome, it was 2021 in Seattle. I was living, as most people in the area, in a house that has no air conditioning. No one really needs it there most of the time. A hot summer day there is usually around 90 degrees. And if it cools off at night, you can bear that kind of heat. But then it was 116 degrees in the day and didn't get out of the 90's until well after midnight. Because everything was closed down due to Covid, there were no cooling stations like malls, libraries or movie theaters we could go to. We all got sick from the heat. The cats were kept alive because we froze towels and laid them on the counters for them to cool down on. I soaked cotton scarves and kept myself hydrated. 

I am grateful for the air-conditioning that we are enjoying here now. But I am afraid of the grid failing and the power going out. At least there are cooling stations now. I am grateful for that too. 

Alabama is on the edge of the dome. We won't see the most extreme heat. I fear for the people of New York where the dome is centered. A few more days and it will be over, but how many people will die of the heat before this thing move out into the ocean? 

It would be great if we had a real government now. One that didn't see life as expendable. But we know that is how they see it. They convinced a kid to climb on a roof and take some pot shots at the dictator, all for a publicity stunt. They picked a kid they knew was a bad shot. It was okay that he was killed, that he killed a cult member sitting in the audience. They needed the photo-op. They even faked an injury on the dictator's ear to gain a little sympathy for the fat old man. Life is expendable to them.

The mango Mussolini got laughed out of Canada, so he decided to bomb Iran. He needs another photo-op. It's okay that people will die because of it, as long as he can show that he is a tough guy. We can't afford medical care for the disabled, or to feed school children. But another republican vanity war is just the ticket that we need. Right. 

I asked Matt if he'd be deployed. His answer was surprising to me. He thinks this was a one and done operation. He seems to think that Iran blows a lot of steam, but there is no substance to what their power. I doubt the people of Tel Aviv agree. I worry that the idiot has started WW3 with a nuclear power because Mark Carney laughed at him and Emmanuel Macron hurt his feelings. But you know, it's okay with him that people will die. Nobody gets to make fun of him. 

When I was 12, I got in trouble in a history class because I said that the people who followed Hitler had to know what they were doing was wrong. Nothing anybody has ever said to me has changed my mind. That is why I am at the point of distain for anyone who follows the 🟠💩now. I think it has to be a choice to be evil. The man sows chaos wherever he goes, He never does the right thing, 

 

Rest

If you think you've seen this meme before, you have probably been over at She Who Seeks blog. Debra graciously gave me permission to use it. And I am ecstatic about that as it so succinctly expresses a theme that has been roaming around in my head. 

When I was in college, it was not enough to take a full course load. We were expected to be actively involved in, if not running a full-time ministry as well supporting ourselves with a job. And just to make sure we were well rounded individuals, we needed to have extracurricular hobbies and pursuits.

This preference for over-extendedness carried on into our lives well after we left and seemed to permeate every environment I was in. In my early twenties, I lived in a Mennonite community where women were expected to be seen fully dressed and made up by 7:00 am every morning. We would all meet at the bus stop where we accompanied our children on their way to school, our coffee and tea mugs in hand. Housework was done on a schedule, that did not vary from household to household. To which I thought, "You people are nuts, and seriously need to get a life." I don't think that I ever said that out loud to them. But I had two hyper-active boys to raise, and I cleaned as needed. I never felt the need to be able to eat off my floors. If all this wasn't enough for these women, they were also expected to be active and involved in the community. They must not only be involved in the women's groups from their church but have some sort of community outreach as well. Their children had to be well behaved as they were dragged from activity to activity.

It took me four years to escape from Stepfordville. But my escape landed me in the lap of corporate America, where the real fun began. I have been blessed to work with some amazing people. They were good people. People who wanted to do their best job, no matter if it was at work or parenting their child, but the culture tended toward over extension. Everyone had to be in back-to-back meetings and constantly working on overlapping deadlines. And if you ever had room to breathe, someone would put another project on your desk. If that wasn't enough, there was a committee or two and a community action program to be involved in. And of course, all of this was to be managed with a work-life balance that included raising your otherwise latch-key kids and running them from soccer to ballet to piano practice, and chaperoning school fieldtrips on the side.

And then my kids all graduated from high school, the moved out and went on with their lives. And I looked around and thought, "What good did all of that do any of us?" Who actually benefited from all the pressure to overperform? And one day in a meeting with an overbearing supervisor, a door in my head slammed shut, and I just quit. I had had enough of it. 

In my mind, my retirement years were my chance to re-introduce myself to that happy creative child that I was forced to abandon when I picked up my pencil box and headed off to school so many years ago. I thought that she would finally be allowed to thrive in the world of needles and yarn and color that I wished to knit. I have my small pension, my social security. I can pay rent and my bills. So I wanted to get out my yarn, and my paints and create a world of color. I wanted to get on a train and travel to see the things I was always too busy to see. I wanted to take up an easy instrument and learn to play it, even though I knew I would never be any good at it. 

What I have learned is that my lack of ambition to "be a productive member of society" has put me at crosshairs with people who can't yet, or maybe, never will be able to do that. I have been told outright that I am lazy. I have been made to feel guilty for taking an afternoon nap, even when there is nothing else pressing that I need to do. I have had many awkward moments when people ask, "So what do you do with your time?" and the answer is, "Whatever I want to do." And the assumption is always; you must be as productive in your retirement as you were in your work life. After all, didn't Ada Lovelace create computer programs in her 80's and Joe Biden lead the country out of a pandemic in his 70's? Shouldn't you be at work?

I have to ask, when is enough, enough? Why is clean enough not good enough. or busy not busy enough? Why, when there really is no benefit, must everyone over-extend themselves into exhaustion? 

So, my inner child is here to play with color, and music, and travel and the written word. And nothing will come of it. But I will live out the few years that I have remaining happily and radically resting in the activities that I choose. And I will die having lived a life that someone else will consider a waste. But the truth is that it is the exceptional person that makes a difference, and most of them chose to do what they made a difference at. 

Find yourself and be at peace with that.

Rainy Day

Another rainy day here. I chuckle to myself, Seattle had nothing on this. It rains all the time here, at least two or three days a week. The picture doesn't show it much, but it is the steady downpour kind of rain. And it has been going on for the better part of two hours. 

I am sitting on the veranda enjoying the day. I like it out here. I was afraid the summer heat would exclude me from my favorite perch. But the temperatures so far haven't been all that bad. It is usually in the low to mid 80's and there is always a nice breeze. The worst is that I sometimes have to move back near the building because the rain blows in from the sides. If I didn't have my electronics out here, I wouldn't mind. 

This is a good place to be out in nature. I have been enjoying the companionship of a host of birds. There are whippoorwills, cardinals, sparrows, robins, and finches that I see regularly. I know there is a mockingbird somewhere, because I hear him all the time. We are near a state park and a wildlife sanctuary. I see the great raptors circling in the evening. I am told that there are eagles there, but I don't think I'd be able to identify them in flight. I think the ones I see are hawks. This guy, who I think is one of the whippoorwills, regularly hangs out with me. When I am sitting on my veranda perch, he is perched in the tree across the parking lot. I wonder if he thinks I am as strange as I think he is awesome. I wonder if he is watching me. Maybe he is just looking for an afternoon snack.

But alas, the rain has stopped, and the breeze is gone. It is now too hot and muggy to continue enjoying my sanctuary. I will end this for now and go inside. I have chores that need to be done, dishes to wash and floors to sweep. Maybe I will reward myself with a bowl of ice cream and a cookie or two when I am done.

Not a bad day for a Thursday.

 

A "Regular" Day

Tim and Jack were supposed to go see "The Ritual" at the movies late last night. But Jack had spent the day swimming at a friend's pool and was too tired to go. It wasn't a movie that I really wanted to watch, but Tim had already bought the tickets, and who wants to go to the movies alone. I went with him. We were the only two people in the theater. And the movie was intense. I could have screamed if I had been so inclined.

The movie is about the most well documented exorcism in America, and was the basis for many horror stories, including the 70's movie, "The Exorcist". Without spinning heads and projectile vomiting, I didn't find it as disturbing as The Exorcist, but it had its moments. I spent a lot of time looking into the tub of popcorn. The things we do for our children...

It was nearing one in the morning when we got home. Jack had gotten up while we were gone and finished the pan of lasagna and the loaf of bread that I had made the day before. Just as well on the bread, because it was going stale. But it meant that if I didn't set a new batch to rising. Bread is a lot of time letting it rise and bake, but very little actual work. I spent about 20 minutes mixing the dough. I blame forgetting to put salt in the mix on it being past 1:00 am when I mixed it. It rose while I slept, and I woke the house up with the aroma of fresh baked bread this morning. Unfortunately, it smelled better than it tastes. Tim and Jack have dutifully eaten a few slices just to make me feel better about my mistake. This loaf may just become bread pudding.

Tim and I spent the afternoon taking the things I brought from Tuscumbia to storage. Then we visited a clearance store. It is the kind of store that if I hadn't just dropped off clutter in a storage unit, I would be inclined to purchase a lot more clutter at very good prices. As it was, I only purchased a birthday present for my soon to be new grandson. He will be turning 15 in a few weeks. After that we went to the farmers market where I bought some pickled cucumbers, okra and asparagus and some pecans. I will go back soon to get some fruit to make jams and jellies to give away for Christmas gifts. Then we went to a comic book store where Tim bought gifts for the same kid, his soon to be stepson. The store is owned by a woman that he used to work with. 

I was tired when we got home, so I used my retired person prerogative and took a long nap. When I woke up, the bread failure from the night before was disturbing my hygge. I made up for it by baking a batch of cookies. Neither Tim or Jack have touched the cookies, I guess they are wary of it after the bread fiasco. You know, "Nana's not quite as sharp as she used to be..."