tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7364484341522171112024-03-05T01:56:39.488-05:00Nutwood JunctionBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.comBlogger1392125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-21083454890480310602022-01-30T17:27:00.000-05:002022-01-30T17:27:03.177-05:00Anger here is all you possess<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLVceCn_CF-BIcy4ARNKKi5LiJhDgiT7wdK7ek_tUi6yqFh1pABzXjYGsDTQ4qh7Ka1Lg-mHIVE0YG0Sl6OarrKIpjPfBcnHBXoumVfEKy8xvqP3A-mXQa-mM8ouhvftmuCGoHZuCOGiIhBYarthpQG3dD07QeaAmUSXGBDzhiPZgU7W3M560FfmrM=s1326" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1326" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLVceCn_CF-BIcy4ARNKKi5LiJhDgiT7wdK7ek_tUi6yqFh1pABzXjYGsDTQ4qh7Ka1Lg-mHIVE0YG0Sl6OarrKIpjPfBcnHBXoumVfEKy8xvqP3A-mXQa-mM8ouhvftmuCGoHZuCOGiIhBYarthpQG3dD07QeaAmUSXGBDzhiPZgU7W3M560FfmrM=s320" width="241" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Some of you may have figured out by now that I'm a big Duran Duran fangirl. Shocking, I know, but it's true! I love them madly and I love taking deep dives into their music. They all share songwriting credits, but Simon is the poet in the bunch. His lyrics are beautiful, evocative, and often cryptic.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">The other day, I was giving the 1988 album "Big Thing" yet another listen. It's one I like a lot, with the club grinder "All She Wants Is" and the beautiful songs "Do You Believe in Shame" and "Palomino." </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">But when I listened to it the other day, the song that absolutely blew my mind was "The Edge of America." I sat and listened to the lyrics. Then I put in my earbuds and listened again. I pulled up the full lyrics to read and listened again, then found a great live version (included at the end of this post).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">As I sat and listened, I felt a chill run down my spine. They released this song in 1988, but it feels like they were writing about what is going on in this country (and John Taylor's adopted one, at least part-time) right here and now. Take a look at the full lyrics. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">The Edge of America (written by Duran Duran)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Walk the edge of America</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>A concrete beach to scrape my hand</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Inside the subway stinking fear and shame</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Becomes the violent breath</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Vigilantes out on dawn patrol</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>But now there's nothing left to hide</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>I'm just a number on the metal fence</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Which marks the great divide</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Hey boy</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Give your dreams a rest</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>If you're tired of searching</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>This is where it ends</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>There's nothing left to lose</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Nothing to protest</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Learn to love your anger now</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Anger here is all you possess</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Welcome to the age</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Below the towers of the citadel</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Seems someone overlooked the cost</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Forgotten soldier of paradise</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Now paradise is lost</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Recognition never realized</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Salvation lost among the crowd</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>So tell me beside this sterile sea</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Where is your nation now?</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>And we say</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Hey boy</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Give your dreams a rest</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>If you're tired of searching</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>This is where it ends</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>There's nothing left to lose</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Nothing to protest</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Learn to love your anger now</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Anger here is all you possess</i></span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"></span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>Welcome to the edge</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">I'm not sure what was in their minds in 1988 when they were writing this, but doesn't it feel pertinent to 2022? Sometimes I feel that we're on the edge and with every new finding from the January 6 Committee, we're understanding how perilously close we came to falling off. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">I still feel a visceral horror when I watch footage of those people storming our Capitol building and I feel deep-seated anger that there were people in the previous administration who were cheering it on. Not to mention any names. AHEM. Some are trying to say it was "just a protest" and no big deal. One Republican said the rioters were tourists. It's been a year but I haven't forgotten one moment of that. They were <i>not</i> tourists, it was <i>not</i> just a protest, and yes, it was a <i>very big fucking deal</i>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Don't try to gaslight us. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Soon we'll have public testimony before the Committee and they'll release their report after that. I suspect there will be some referrals to the Department of Justice, although I'm not sure how high up they'll go. You-know-who is promising to pardon the insurrectionists if he's reelected. It is within our power to ensure that does not happen and that all those responsible for that dark day are held accountable to the full extent allowed by the law. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Anger <i>may</i> be all that they possess. Anger at their "country being taken away" from them, with all the implications that carries. </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">We have more than that and let's not forget it. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Don't let our country slip off the edge.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/fbHKdlh0nys" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></span></p>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-56034556134233679742021-12-19T18:40:00.000-05:002021-12-19T18:40:30.935-05:00The Evolution of an Obsession<p><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhDpPGCGgA6FDmu_rabkuqCkUTV224QjrZylfZOhWlNuhyRkxjqo2ytdk-jylRNVuUaZdqFhMuQAFf_iColcMlTYImL56MAkbQTAJO89yN9G6kEItRz85Bbe7IPB0y3yztstlU2ergSBMqLbS-32xKP46u_N3zEmwbNNvSH70Rdy73szNISjxguqtVv=s900" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="900" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhDpPGCGgA6FDmu_rabkuqCkUTV224QjrZylfZOhWlNuhyRkxjqo2ytdk-jylRNVuUaZdqFhMuQAFf_iColcMlTYImL56MAkbQTAJO89yN9G6kEItRz85Bbe7IPB0y3yztstlU2ergSBMqLbS-32xKP46u_N3zEmwbNNvSH70Rdy73szNISjxguqtVv=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-30047d50-7fff-ef9e-5833-39ff39b632c8"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you’d like a glimpse into the inner workings of my brain, behold the genesis of an obsession.</span></span><br /><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-59580abf-7fff-75b6-33c1-787630d0e809"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It begins with Christmas. I need to wrap presents. Anyone who knows me even slightly knows that this is an odious and tiresome task for me. In order to entertain myself, I make myself a cocktail (or two) and watch something on TV that makes me happy. In past years, it’s been episodes of “The Walking Dead,” other years it’s a Stephen King movie, sometimes it’s “Game Change.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For this year’s viewing pleasure, I chose the movies “The Mummy” and “The Mummy Returns,” the ones starring Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz (and Oded Fehr, but we’ll get to him in a moment). Not intellectual or historically accurate movies, by any means, but I find them a lot of fun. I’ve been fascinated by ancient Egypt since I read in grade school about the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb. The very first thing I wanted to be was an archaeologist. I love the imagery, the mystery, and the history. Adding a bunch of adventure, romance, and intrigue into the mix makes for a very fun movie for me. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwWd1urtM5Kh-zH1il6xdqZ8v4rFR3u77EMCn5Nf7FjoaeDkofX06pCeCGK4Ynd2vZi4kdvkaM732B0B_QnmK8bIodjT21_qTxZWqE9jsyR8ixTUWMXlH_RKM63qEOJypH_jetyqqULfvMAWRudYAVwgT0_udaKDdEI0LoVCTQoDZcce_lG7LM9LpE=s461" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="461" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwWd1urtM5Kh-zH1il6xdqZ8v4rFR3u77EMCn5Nf7FjoaeDkofX06pCeCGK4Ynd2vZi4kdvkaM732B0B_QnmK8bIodjT21_qTxZWqE9jsyR8ixTUWMXlH_RKM63qEOJypH_jetyqqULfvMAWRudYAVwgT0_udaKDdEI0LoVCTQoDZcce_lG7LM9LpE=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I wrap, I drink, I watch. I’m struck all over again by the aforementioned Oded Fehr as Ardeth Bay. And his incredible hair. I begin to look things up about the actor and remember that he is now a member of the “Star Trek: Discovery” cast, playing a Federation Admiral. A mini-obsession is born. A black and white picture of him is now my phone’s lock screen and wallpaper. A photo of him in a tub is now my Facebook cover photo. To give him credit for things other than being hawt, he appears to be a truly nice human being, smart and funny and devoted to his family. Awww! Good Guy Oded Fehr!</span></span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Among other discoveries, I find out that he was born in Israel, but in the movie, he plays an Egyptian. Leader of the Medjai…black robes, scimitars, and in his case, a spectacular head of hair. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I begin to listen to Egyptian music. I’m captivated. It sends my imagination soaring. An ancient procession, perhaps a sacred burial. A taverna with belly dancers. The glare of the hot sun, a camel ride, a trip down the Nile. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then I begin to investigate the cuisine in Egypt and the Middle East. I find out that there is a local restaurant that offers up that sort of fare and we resolve to go try it out soon. It sounds like I would love it. I decide I should conduct kitchen experiments and make some of this cuisine. So I begin to investigate recipes and learn that there are spices and spice mixes that I need if I want to make this. I investigate cookbooks and find one that sounds basic enough for a beginner to the cuisine. I order the cookbook. I search for the “must-have” spices. I order the spices. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I immerse myself in this, I begin to think about how my dream vacation has always been one in Egypt. My sister did it; I can do it, too. I inform Ken that while we need to wait for things to settle down with Covid, this is something I want us to plan for. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I want that glare of the hot sun, I want that camel ride, I want that trip down the Nile. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I want to see the pyramids.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t do the bucket list thing, but if I did, this would be on it. Life is too short to </span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">not</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> see these wonders, especially when I’ve dreamed about something like this since I was a kid. It also gives me something to look forward to, something to plan for…because this winter is shaping up to be a real shitshow, with another Covid wave. I’m getting antsy to travel. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So there you have it. An obsession that starts with wrapping Christmas presents, focuses on Oded Fehr and his hair, then meanders to culinary experiments, and finally ends on eventually planning a trip to Egypt. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My thought process is convoluted, but it’s fun! What do you think, Ardeth? </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-Sf3HXB8z5OiWXkyYdYo3Ldx0cUt5mOs0V5_ByRPFrmPZdjj4i5iMhPtHrD9HWCvZvzqDsFzQZQ_JYy4w8zHkHTkuU5c1inbVA0xZKo-87Pb_xUEVdeFAk46aBssrGsK3jXsOztKSoy25Anprxa2xmOz7Rae3ZTHsu5-YNiHdo416NoFJy5rUh3Zq=s498" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="498" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-Sf3HXB8z5OiWXkyYdYo3Ldx0cUt5mOs0V5_ByRPFrmPZdjj4i5iMhPtHrD9HWCvZvzqDsFzQZQ_JYy4w8zHkHTkuU5c1inbVA0xZKo-87Pb_xUEVdeFAk46aBssrGsK3jXsOztKSoy25Anprxa2xmOz7Rae3ZTHsu5-YNiHdo416NoFJy5rUh3Zq=w400-h245" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="tenor-gif-embed" data-aspect-ratio="1.63265" data-postid="17271025" data-share-method="host" data-width="100%"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nZQedNtN_8w" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe>
</span></p><div><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></div>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-30717069774431372842021-11-27T15:57:00.000-05:002021-11-27T15:57:16.923-05:00I was not made for him<p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">You were made for me</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I took you home and dressed you up in polyester</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Princess of my dreams</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Emotionless and cold as ice</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">All of the things I like</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">The way you look</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The way you move</i></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The sound you're making</i></span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-e08ac0b1-7fff-7926-03eb-bd607fe1f531"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">~~ "Electric Barbarella" by Duran Duran</span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In a clear case of ‘I’ve got too much time on my hands,’ I looked up my ex-husband on Facebook. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I knew nothing good could come from it, but I did it, anyway. Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop, doncha know? </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The initial findings were rather disgusting to me but it led to some genuine introspection about what exactly happened there and I realize how utterly miserable I’d have been if I’d stayed. So I turned something rather stomach-churning into something that didn’t make me hurl in disgust and anguish and humiliation, so I guess there’s that. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTT23nrGyhNQpHuP64R7r6vwfdNV_tSDOZz5aad2GWsBR4HBoJsQRySkX6kV3DSRXr9S5gTGgF3ma_yuE7QgNzRMV0rbHI4ptVxq5Ng9yZkyAbebILf9-HNV3X4_-UZZUtcsY85Nih-94/s338/bible+thumping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="338" data-original-width="264" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTT23nrGyhNQpHuP64R7r6vwfdNV_tSDOZz5aad2GWsBR4HBoJsQRySkX6kV3DSRXr9S5gTGgF3ma_yuE7QgNzRMV0rbHI4ptVxq5Ng9yZkyAbebILf9-HNV3X4_-UZZUtcsY85Nih-94/s320/bible+thumping.jpg" width="250" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Those who know me well know what happened there. I’ve even written a bit about it on Facebook, so anyone who read that knows at least a little about it, too. The bottom line is that a few years into our marriage he found Jesus. Not just in a quiet meditative way. He found him in a BIG BANG MOMENT kind of way, a fundamentalist kind of way. I have a fairly high tolerance level for someone’s religious beliefs—no, I really do!—but his newfound faith wasn’t a matter of personal growth and learning and a calm and quiet reaching out to others. No, it was more like…</span></span><p></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">“I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT JESUS AND EVERYONE IN MY ORBIT NEEDS TO BE JUST AS EXCITED AS I AM OR I’M GONNA HARP AT THEM EVERY DAY ABOUT HOW THEY’RE WRONG.”</span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In case you think I’m exaggerating (some of those close to me know that I am not), he once told me that he thought I was possessed by a demon. I realized just a few years ago that I had blocked a lot of that out, which was a bit of a Revelations to me. (See what I did there?) As I think about it now, I suppose that it was a real shock to my system to realize that while I thought I’d escaped that situation from my upbringing, as a young married woman, I was right back in that same controlling environment with my husband. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">That’s a real kick in the ass, so I suppose it’s no wonder that a part of me chose to hide it away for a while. Probably until I was strong enough to remember the details, don’t you think? I do. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Anyway, he was relentless in his witnessing to me as well as his attempts to control me. I was definitely no angel but I wasn’t a total reprobate, either. Just a 20-something woman who wanted to get her ya-ya’s out. I liked to drink and go out to bars and dance and I smoked and I loved rock ‘n roll and I didn’t feel particularly evil about it. For the first two or three years, he was the same way and so was his family. We all had a blast together. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Everything changed when he had his spiritual awakening. His main goal now was to convert others, and yours truly was first in line. I needed to clean up my act, quit wearing wild clothes, quit going out, start going to church, start being a model “biblical” wife (whatever the fuck that means), and when it came time to have kids, well, naturally, I’d stop working and stay home with them. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">You can imagine how that went over with me. If I recall correctly, my comment to his wanting me to stay at home full time with kids was, “What’re ya gonna do, chain me in a closet?” I did try a few times. I went to church with him once and turned around in time to see a woman behind me pointing to me and mouthing to him, “Is that her?!” like I was some sort of exotic species. I went to a cookout at the home of someone at his church. I was out on the porch talking to a bunch of the guys about current events and one of the wives came out and asked me, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable with us women in the kitchen?” I said I was fine, thank you. That was also when I heard a woman say something that I have never forgotten, something that did more to drive me away from religion than just about anything: “I’m glad I have God to make decisions for me so I don’t have to make them myself.” </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Man, how long is this gonna be? I guess I have a lot to say on this matter. I haven’t even gotten into what I found on his Facebook page! But I’m almost there. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">All this prelude is to try to make you understand part of my journey to becoming an atheist. There’s a lot more there, but that chapter of my life was a big part of it. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is getting a wee bit heavy for me to think about right now, so I’m going to take a little break and get back to it later. These are not pleasant memories for me. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">***</span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ2Tuui5OggLzRgqajLlVQpIK-C3LMq__FQuUksIlOGx2GT0gqM4MxxIpfyNLcIU4u14TPMRcbmgJfF6qsxLajAHX7Ai0OgQExs7W20awqEIGZ3GKPj4ed8PThluzN_eijJbzee1cqu1Q/s1502/Divorce+rings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1502" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ2Tuui5OggLzRgqajLlVQpIK-C3LMq__FQuUksIlOGx2GT0gqM4MxxIpfyNLcIU4u14TPMRcbmgJfF6qsxLajAHX7Ai0OgQExs7W20awqEIGZ3GKPj4ed8PThluzN_eijJbzee1cqu1Q/s320/Divorce+rings.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I feel well-rested and I’m back at it! </span></span><p></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Still a little more to the prelude. After putting up with that nonsense for as long as I could tolerate it, I came to the decision that it wasn’t going to work and I wanted a divorce. I didn’t even bother suggesting counseling because I knew quite well what would happen: he would insist that we go to a pastor. Either his at his church or another one. That was a no-go with me because I had the suspicion that a pastor might be a tiny bit biased against me and my wishes. A wife is supposed to submit to her husband and all that rot. (And yes, my ex had gotten into a group called the Promise Keepers whose philosophy was exactly that. The man was to be the biblical head of the household.) I was done. It takes a lot to push me to that point, but once I’m there, I don’t change my mind and reverse course. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">He did not react well to the news. His first action was to find our wedding album and tear up all the pictures in it. His second was to phone my parents (who lived three hours away) and tell them, “Beth just told me she wants a divorce. Just thought you should know. Bye.” I had no idea he was doing this and I got a panicked phone call from my parents. It was an ugly scene. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">He left and ended up staying with a friend of his. He’d call me up occasionally and once told me, “I know that God is punishing me because I cheated on you.” I was a little bored by this crap by now and saw it for what it was: he wanted to lash out at me. But I still asked. “Oh yeah? When was this?” He said, “When I went to Officer’s Training School.” </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Well, that was about a month after we got married, when he joined the Air Force. Nice, huh? Oh, well. I was done, so it really didn’t matter. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">He didn’t really want to sign the papers initially but he finally saw that I wasn’t taking him back. So after five years of marriage and several months of separation, the divorce was final. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Time jump! I moved on, so did he, and so did the world. I found out that he married a Chinese woman he met when on a missionary trip to China. His mother told my mother (they kept in touch for a while) that she “looks a bit like Beth but doesn’t speak much English.” That made me laugh then and it still does. I said, “So he got the package but she doesn’t talk back.” </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now we get to the point where I saw his Facebook page. It’s public so it’s all out there. He got his kids (three of ‘em) and seems happy and content. I’m glad he is. What I’m </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">not</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> glad about is realizing that he’s kind of a right-wing jerk. There are posts about how this is the “most corrupt administration in history.” He’s also some kind of puritanical prude, talking about how “pornography is being taught in our schools.” (There’s a video of a school board meeting in Carmel, Indiana, where outraged parents are reading from novels available in the school libraries. There’s a young adult book that has an admittedly graphic sex scene, but hearing this PTA mom reading lines like “She was wet” and “He sucked her nipples” had me laughing my ass off!) </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Worst of all, </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">he’s a vaccine skeptic</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. This is the guy who got his Master’s in Microbiology when we were dating! I was disgusted and appalled by </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">that</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, not some </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hausfrau</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and her ‘pornographic book’ reading! </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But wait! There’s more! Not only is he still super-religious, in looking at the comments from his family members (brothers and sister, especially), they’re </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">all</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> religious. He turned ‘em all! Even the people who were the wildest in that whole bunch (and let me tell ya, for someone who grew up in a very religious and straight-laced extended family, it was a little shocking for me at times) are now Bible thumpers. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And this is where I had my epiphany. Something I realized only now, thirty-some years after I divorced him. He didn’t want a partner. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">He wanted a possession. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">He wanted someone he could tell how to think, what to do, what to believe. He wanted to be the all-knowing husband who dictated how his household would run. He wanted an Electric Barbarella who would listen to what he said, every day, in every way. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Well, homegirl don’t play that game. No more than the dolly in the included video does. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">My epiphany generated both horror and relief. Horror at the thought of what it would have been like if I’d stayed. Not only would the onslaught of religious dogma and right-wing demagoguery from him have been unending, but I’d also have started getting it from the whole damn family. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Talk about Hell on Earth! </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The relief came in knowing that I had the wherewithal and the means to get out when I did. It wasn’t easy. Divorce was still quite scandalous in my family and I worried about how my folks would take it. I was like the little mascot in the extended family and I felt like I would be judged as a failure. (All needless worries but I was still young and I worried about things like that.) Work wasn’t an issue and I had supportive friends there and elsewhere and yes, family. I was free.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I’m in a good place. If I’d stayed, I would not be. So I made a very good choice and I have no regrets about it.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Why am I telling you all of this? I’m really not sure. Mostly my own sorting-things-out, I suppose. Maybe a little bit of letting people know that it’s okay to extricate yourself from a situation in which you are dissatisfied and unhappy. A situation in which you understand you will not thrive. And it is always okay to demand equal rights in a relationship. “Being told what to do” is not a viable situation! </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It also gave me some insight as to both why I’m an atheist (at least one of the main reasons) and why I bristle at both mansplaining and being told what to do. I have very valid reasons for feeling the way I do. And oh, how tempting it is to write to him and let him know, “You’re one of the main reasons I’m an atheist. Just thought you should know how badly you failed at converting me. You should probably pray about it and think about how you failed.” </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Very</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> tempting. But of course, I won’t. It’s enough for me to know. And maybe on some level, he knows it, too. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">No matter what age you are, I think it’s important to continue to learn things about yourself. Self-awareness is a very good thing and it very often brings comfort and strength. This whole thing wasn’t pleasant and dredged up a lot of bad memories for me. I have kept and will always keep many of those to myself. But I learned something about myself. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I’m always cool with that. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/MK1g5dMYR3s" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-179328273813771542021-10-14T19:01:00.002-04:002021-10-14T19:01:40.139-04:00We're gonna go to space, kid<p><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">There, feat for quantum leap
Because space is hot and deep
And we follow giant footprints
As we fall in, falling like the twins
Through Saturn's holy rings
And if they can't hold us, where it's gonna end up
Anybody knows</span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">
</span></i></span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wasted, there's nothing gonna ace this</span></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-845473db-7fff-1d26-4b01-8825b7beaf8f"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And we're gonna go to space, kid</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'Cause I'm leaving with an astronaut</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">~~ “Astronaut” by Duran Duran</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSlhCP76aH-orVrd6bDeO8eKbZEdugm_6xsYSQPplq3_DKO0zWpi-Y-byUxT9CCjdxCMYuw96x27QWOEElqMnadMuAB5xKZiATRfazy2CtdDKaiRltVFQlk0hoXnZ-BLl9JsaftSBbo5w/s1136/Shatner+in+space.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="1136" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSlhCP76aH-orVrd6bDeO8eKbZEdugm_6xsYSQPplq3_DKO0zWpi-Y-byUxT9CCjdxCMYuw96x27QWOEElqMnadMuAB5xKZiATRfazy2CtdDKaiRltVFQlk0hoXnZ-BLl9JsaftSBbo5w/w400-h300/Shatner+in+space.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span id="docs-internal-guid-b4c0fb2e-7fff-3e97-3b83-850c2242d6fe"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In a stroke of PR genius, Jeff Bezos asked 90-year-old William Shatner to join the latest flight of the Blue Origin spacecraft.</span> </span></span><br /></span><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Millions watched “Captain Kirk” finally make a trip to space. He’s now an astronaut for real, although when asked about that, he demurred, saying, “Maybe with a small A. Followed by two S’s.” (I thought that was funny!)</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What was truly remarkable was after they landed safely and he tried to articulate how it made him feel. Those of us with an introspective bent understood completely his awe, his difficulty at describing how profoundly it touched him. Who knew that Bill Shatner could be so philosophical? </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He related it to how precious and fragile our Earth is and how we need to take care of her. He wished everyone could have that experience in order to see that. As one tends to do as one gets older (and he’s got a good 30 years on me!), he looked at our atmosphere and saw light and lightness and LIFE, and then gazed into the blackness of space and wondered if that was what death was like. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m not ashamed to admit that it made me cry and I know I’m not the only one. Seeing this typically cocky actor try to explain his profound feelings made so many of us feel his awe and joy. It was apparently a life-changing moment for him and we all experienced his epiphany vicariously. I’ve had the occasional epiphany myself and I know that it can be life-altering. I loved it that he felt that, even at the age of 90. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was also special for me because from the time I was in high school, watching “Star Trek” reruns when I got home from school, I loved the show. It still means a lot to me and I’m still a fan. We watch all the shows currently out, always go to see a new Trek movie in the theater, and even still watch an episode of the original series (it will always be my favorite). We’ve even gone to several Trek exhibits over the years.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve written before that “Star Trek” taught me about inclusion and helped me realize that it was important to learn about other cultures. That we don’t always need to fear “the Other.” It also gave me a love of science because rather than the bombastic Captain Kirk, I was drawn to Spock and to Bones. (Although Kirk had his own interesting tactics, including breaking the rules. I liked that, too. Kobayashi Maru, anyone?)</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some talking heads and other science types have said that these flights are the beginning of commercial space travel. I think they’re right. How many people got to fly on airplanes when they first started? It was a rich person’s game. Now they’re accessible to almost everyone. While it probably won’t happen in my remaining lifetime, I think we’ll start seeing more of this. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are many critics of these billionaires and their “vanity flights.” I get it. The amount of money they have is obscene. But just as with the NASA flights, unexpected and important scientific findings will come from these. I’m not sure it’s an entirely bad thing that these are being privately funded. Obviously, NASA is still vital to our country and scientific development, but if these people have the money and the passion, I say, “go for it.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to pack my bags tonight pre-flight. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/20AnEAkNlf0" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-79275106910155939772021-09-28T01:36:00.020-04:002021-09-28T01:41:48.519-04:00Undergoing Treatment at Home<p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;">We are undergoing treatment</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;">But will the doctors ever cure</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-369de30f-7fff-9870-0634-d1b3f08913db"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">These delusions of grandeur?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">~~ "Undergoing Treatment” by Duran Duran</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlaqGIaaf0awfwhNzbsexrH5dloXDORIYlvqIzkDOyXkhvxb-5y96LPY8y947Ih6-PDzgCrB-66w7ddZK946Q2Q7PbDtxEgfdX6BZHEm_YMc4HhKCKsxGzKNG09BYxdyJWW6BAUvNdy5M/s553/University+of+Google.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="361" data-original-width="553" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlaqGIaaf0awfwhNzbsexrH5dloXDORIYlvqIzkDOyXkhvxb-5y96LPY8y947Ih6-PDzgCrB-66w7ddZK946Q2Q7PbDtxEgfdX6BZHEm_YMc4HhKCKsxGzKNG09BYxdyJWW6BAUvNdy5M/w400-h261/University+of+Google.JPG" width="400" /></a></div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span id="docs-internal-guid-52a0d209-7fff-4fb7-5bf0-7acd8348edc9"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">NBC News recently posted an article about how <a href="https://www.nbcnews.com/tech/tech-news/vigilante-treatments-anti-vaccine-groups-push-people-leave-icus-rcna2233?cid=eml_nbn_20210924&user_email=534ec12bba769057188d600f289c33b8722407817b13558f90cf53f5d6808930&%243p=e_sailthru&_branch_match_id=964179883754907798&utm_medium=Email%20Sailthru">people are refusing treatment at hospitals</a> and even pulling family members out of ICUs so that they can treat them at home. With veterinary medicine used as an anti-parasitic drug in animals.</span></span> </span></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While Ivermectin has been approved for use in humans as an anti-helminth (specifically roundworms), it is NOT approved for any other use in humans. But there is a big run on Ivermectin paste online, bad enough that veterinarians are running out of the treatment to give their patients. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are websites that recommend how to eat Ivermectin paste so that it is more palatable. Spread it on crackers, make a sandwich out of it.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Do these people have any idea of how unhinged and how stupid they sound? </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anti-vax idiot Jenny McC (I refuse to type her full name here) once said that her degree for disputing the safety of vaccines was the “University of Google.” Well, let me say a few things about that, honey. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fuck your University of Google bullshit. First of all, there is no such thing. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Second of all, some of us actually </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">went to college</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to study this stuff. My degree was a Bachelor of Science in Medical Technology. I took three years of classes that were almost identical to pre-med courses, then spent twelve months in an internship in a hospital where we got lectures in the morning from technologists and pathologists and then spent the afternoons working in the lab. I had to pass a nationwide registry exam and I took the same oath that doctors and nurses take, to first do no harm. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So let me say it again: fuck your University of Google “degree.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You don’t know shit about fuck (to quote the inimitable Ruthie from “Ozark”). You have no concept of basic scientific facts. You have no idea how to interpret a scientific paper. You cherrypick data that is dubious, and everything you find to supposedly back up your claims is easily debunked by anyone with even a rudimentary background in science. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am sick of your bullshit.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s bad enough that you are harming yourselves. What is unconscionable to me is that you are harming your own loved ones, you are harming young children, and you are harming elderly people like my Mom and immunocompromised people like my husband. And you know what? You are really harshing my fun times. I haven’t been to a concert for well over a year and I am </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">pissed off</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> about it. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Americans screaming about their freedoms? They’re the ones who are prolonging this pandemic because they are refusing to get vaccinated. Instead, they seem to think that bogus treatments and cures are the way to go. I don’t think I ever realized until this year just how goddamn stupid people can be. I had my suspicions but this is beyond stupid. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is dangerous and it can be deadly. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m mad. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ECKHhDLtags" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-85718136662397431572021-09-22T19:39:00.000-04:002021-09-22T19:39:10.297-04:00Everything will change forever<div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I interface<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;">Difference erase<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nothing will remain<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Everything will change forever<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Viral subdivide<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Target and align<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The message will survive<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Everything will change forever<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Boohoo, haha</span></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ec25b00-7fff-6513-78b0-4b10f76f9119"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Virus” by Duran Duran</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLxtumCJWO7D6ZmkfspT4I3d3PSwHo72DJe6CVckbmdpE_Vz3iEHNAK9AJnEq7xSAa3ZPXjGS3jOwl-05UYujPUthj4vcvtvifo6m6OzgSH1b4pDjiAhz7nO6Km98M4bI5JiZ5dCur5ds/s1800/Coronavirus.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1800" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLxtumCJWO7D6ZmkfspT4I3d3PSwHo72DJe6CVckbmdpE_Vz3iEHNAK9AJnEq7xSAa3ZPXjGS3jOwl-05UYujPUthj4vcvtvifo6m6OzgSH1b4pDjiAhz7nO6Km98M4bI5JiZ5dCur5ds/w400-h266/Coronavirus.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-3f0213fc-7fff-9d82-853d-a36c4e51a50d"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Way back in the Days of Yore (2008), I wrote an entry about the <a href="https://nutwoodjunction.blogspot.com/2008/11/infection-connection.html">1918-19 Influenza pandemic</a></span></span> (</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">AKA the Spanish Flu). </span><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It dismays me to know that the Covid pandemic has now surpassed the official death toll of that pandemic. The counts from then are underestimated; they undoubtedly are for this pandemic, too. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve been predicting a pandemic for some time now. I take no pleasure in being right. I was wrong about it being a possible deadly strain of influenza. Instead, it was worse: a completely novel strain of virus that is highly infectious in humans. (Coronaviruses are not new. This strain is.) </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I knew this was going to be hard to write and it’s making me too sad. I’ll take a break and come back to it. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">**The next day**</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I apologize for pulling a Scarlett, but today really is another day. Like...well, pretty much everyone...I find myself very emotional about the whole thing. I’m a listmaker, so I’ll make a couple here. First, the sad stuff. Things I feel that we’ve lost. </span></p><br /><ol style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-inline-start: 48px;"><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">First and foremost, almost 680,000 Americans and over 4.5 million worldwide. These are staggering numbers. Those people are not coming back. A relative of ours was one of them. I’ve had friends who have gotten terribly ill and those who survive run the risk of “long-haul” syndrome, which sounds awful. What was the potential of those who were lost or have long-lasting disabilities? What might they have accomplished in their lives? What did the world lose?</span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So many have lost their livelihoods and/or their homes. Thanks to the Covid stimulus package (thanks, Joe!), unemployment has dropped. </span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Numerous businesses have been shuttered. We’ve seen plenty in our own community. We’ve done our best to support as many of our favorite places as possible, including ordering carryout, buying gift cards to be used later, etc. But there are some that were just unable to weather the shutdown.</span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Time. I don’t know about y’all, but I’m not getting any younger and there’s a lot of things I miss and want to do again: concerts are the main thing! That goes two ways, too. I watched an interview today with my beloved John Taylor of my beloved Duran Duran, and he said that they were all jonesin’ for concert dates. For a lot of performers, it’s not just a matter of revenue. For some, it’s what they DO. It’s how they get their creative energy and what makes them want to keep doing that thing they do. </span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of the things I mourn the most is that we seem to have lost our sense of societal good. The misinformation campaign on the part of some outlets (and yes, I’m looking at you, FOX “NEWS”) and the absurd politicization of this pandemic is utterly dismaying to see. I honestly have no idea what happened to the concept of being a part of a civilized society and doing your best to help others. If some of these jerks were on the Titanic, they’d be pushing little kids overboard in order to get their spot in the lifeboat. This is abhorrent to me and goes against everything I’ve learned in my life and in my career in healthcare.</span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This relates to the previous item. I feel like we’ve all lost a sense of boundless optimism and the feeling that we could meet any obstacle and overcome it...if we all worked together. Maybe even a sense of innocence, in feeling that the majority of people are innately good and will do the right thing when they are called to do so. I know that I certainly feel more jaded and cynical than I ever have in my life. And that’s sad to me. </span></p></li></ol><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s a short list, really. There are so many other things, but I try not to dwell on those things for too long. (#5 is one that can make me terribly angry and that is not a good place for me to be right now.) So what can I possibly find in all this that is even somewhat positive? I can always suss out a few. </span></p><br /><ol style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-inline-start: 48px;"><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Telecommuting/Telemedicine. This will change commute times at least a bit and that’s better for people’s well-being as well as for the environment. If your job isn’t a hands-on one, chances are good that you can work from home at least one day a week. A doctor’s visit for non-threatening maladies is probably not needed (sorry, hypochondriacs) and it frees medical staff up to attend to those who are in more serious need of care.</span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A greater appreciation (at least for many of us) of workers who still had to go to work. That includes my fellow lab people, all medical workers, people like my stepdaughter who works retail, her boyfriend who works in delivery, and Cousin Shane who goes in every day to the Post Office to deliver all the crap so many of us started ordering online! All of them have to put up with stupid customers who flaunt mask rules and get downright belligerent. I would have snapped long ago. </span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Related: higher wages for minimum-wage workers. This up-ended the market and there are plenty who have chosen to say “take this job and shove it,” or have demanded a higher wage and better benefits. Good for them! Others have stayed home out of necessity for childcare. Some will have you believe that the lack of staffing has to do with the unemployment benefits that were extended by the federal government. The data show that was not the case, so don’t toss that crap my way.</span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some people have a greater appreciation for and understanding of science. Let’s focus on them rather than the dumbasses chowing down on anti-parasitic veterinary drug canapés, okay? For Pete’s sake. What the hell is wrong with these people? </span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Okay, I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel now. Some days I feel more optimistic than others. Uhh...binge-watching! Lots of good TV and movies to catch up on. Also (for me) getting totally absorbed in various bands. For a while, it was Steep Canyon Rangers, and it’s currently Duran Duran. Music is often my salvation and I’ve certainly been feeling that more acutely the past couple of years. Oh, and online concerts. Did a few of those. Also a few online lectures from Notre Dame. See? Several good things bundled into one!</span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gardening/Cooking. Tending to my little deck garden this summer and getting good stuff from it was very therapeutic. I wasn’t super adventurous with my cooking but when you mostly stop eating out, it’s fun to try a few different things and see how they work out. I don’t think I had any massive failures in the kitchen (except for eating quite a bit later than planned—learning how to use the Instant Pot!), and comfort food levels were off the chart at Nutwood. </span></p></li></ol><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Look at me! Six items for both good/bad lists! It’s not like I’ve had plenty of time to reflect on things. [eye roll] I’ve always had a contemplative bent and that has been a blessing and a curse during this whole thing. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t know how all this will play out. I do know that because of a minority of the population, this is going to continue for a while and that more people will die. I wish I could slap the recalcitrant ones silly, but I’m too busy doing my best to NOT SPREAD COVID. I remain hopeful for next year. We’ll start getting kids vaccinated (vaccine mandates are a story for another day) and those who refuse to get it? Well, I guess we know what will happen to a lot of them, don’t we? But what’s maddening is that they pose a risk to others. Also a story for another day, and a rage highway that I don’t want to travel down right now. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ll post this Duran Duran video (some of the lyrics are quoted at the start of this entry) and the irony is not lost on me. The lyrics are eerily accurate. As President Joe would say, “Here’s the deal.” Viruses don’t give a fuck about your political alignment. Their prime directive is to infect as many people as possible in order to proliferate. “Difference erase.” If you refuse to get the vaccine because of whatever dumb freedoms you feel you’re entitled to or whatever misinformation you’ve been fed and that you have stupidly believed, the virus says, “Boohoo, haha.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xkwo2bE5fgw" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-55728512802997694102021-03-21T17:55:00.001-04:002021-03-21T17:55:33.309-04:00Extra<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgh74NtBT4vL_DC8_ksdHcCVtzELCPRACScZ_rm_P9YXxJasalOSwjzZp4pZjGGDHWHhYa4Io0EfRtycrkK9tte9wG_G7v1MVqhxTSun4KhHjU8Pzh0Ld5pn3hO_99tJ-U4O_payhyphenhyphenWbg/s960/Niagara+Trouble.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="714" data-original-width="960" height="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgh74NtBT4vL_DC8_ksdHcCVtzELCPRACScZ_rm_P9YXxJasalOSwjzZp4pZjGGDHWHhYa4Io0EfRtycrkK9tte9wG_G7v1MVqhxTSun4KhHjU8Pzh0Ld5pn3hO_99tJ-U4O_payhyphenhyphenWbg/w640-h475/Niagara+Trouble.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Painting by the badass <a href="http://www.niagaradetroit.com/home.html" target="_blank">Niagara</a>)</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Like most people, I’ve had plenty of time to reflect over the past year. I’ve always been one to ponder but a year like this has put my pondering into overdrive. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: medium; white-space: pre-wrap;">One thing I’ve realized is that I’m a little bit “extra.” Maybe more than a little. There have been some interactions over the years where I realized I was too much for some people to handle. I don’t know if it’s my enthusiasm, or my intensity, or my low tolerance for bullshit. My weird sense of humor? How opinionated I am? My foul mouth? All of the above? Fuck if I know. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: medium; white-space: pre-wrap;">But like The Black Crowes sang, I guess I’m too hard to handle for some. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: medium; white-space: pre-wrap;">I seem to mostly notice it in guys. I’ve got a group of ride or die girlfriends (we call ourselves the Wolfpack, for reasons unknown—hey, ladies!) and we’ve had this discussion. We’re all strong women, raunchy as all get-out, outspoken...and we get along great. We find the fragile male ego amusing at times. Three out of four of us are vertically challenged (except for the long-legged Vegas bombshell!) but we’ve all had the experience of intimidating men. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: medium; white-space: pre-wrap;">I think we’ve probably all been called names, from bitch to ball-breaker to...well, I’ve been called a coldhearted c***. Because we speak our minds. (Let me give a shout-out here to my stalwart husband, who takes my outspokenness in stride and seems to have figured out how to peacefully coexist, even in Quarantimes™.)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Being a strong woman doesn’t mean emasculating men. It means asserting our </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">own</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> right to speak up and be heard, and that includes when we’re being interrupted or mansplained to. Gee, so sorry I’m not a shy, retiring flower, but if you do that to me or treat me in a condescending manner, you’re gonna have a bad time. In addition to a long-suffering husband, I am fortunate to have plenty of friends—both male and female, online and in real life—who are also capable of taking me in stride. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: medium; white-space: pre-wrap;">But you know what? I wouldn’t change. I don’t think I could. I’m honestly a mellow person, content to hang out and enjoy my peace and quiet, but I have my passions. I know I put people off sometimes because I’m a little too much...but I’d rather be that way than coast through life not feeling passionate about anything. It kind of separates the wheat from the chaff, too. If you hang out with me, chances are good you’ll have a fun time. If I’m too much for you, that’s your choice. [shrug] </span></p><p><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/BRcs_OzQb14" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></span></p>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-73066223631503090692021-03-17T17:11:00.001-04:002021-03-17T17:11:36.854-04:00An Act of Charity<span id="docs-internal-guid-3a67a3d2-7fff-c2d3-c5d2-ab15f3bd2a4c"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHsCW-oYTyXz6ypbxzy-FBzPP8XqAcrBCCxjGu5qCSttUhRfAaCbj90GX3Rgjtrn1lxHAj5mzj644i92PX6BWroT0H2nY9Hjw-62mXmwA_QXjRpF9S1Qy8UjZrQ32i04qJfzTR_2BBOP8/s724/Covid+vaccine+Getty+Images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="483" data-original-width="724" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHsCW-oYTyXz6ypbxzy-FBzPP8XqAcrBCCxjGu5qCSttUhRfAaCbj90GX3Rgjtrn1lxHAj5mzj644i92PX6BWroT0H2nY9Hjw-62mXmwA_QXjRpF9S1Qy8UjZrQ32i04qJfzTR_2BBOP8/w400-h266/Covid+vaccine+Getty+Images.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I suppose it’s human nature to try to find the positive aspects in this past year of shutdown. And there are several, there really are. I appreciate every good thing that has happened and I’m happy that we haven’t lost any close family members. But it’s been rough in a lot of ways, no matter who we are or what we’re going through. It’s hardest on those who have lost loved ones, no doubt about that, and I still haven’t fully processed the losses in our country and around the world. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One positive thing for me is that the University of Notre Dame and other local colleges have made so many lectures available online. Most of those lectures have always been open to the public, but how convenient is it to sit at home and have a beverage while you attend a lecture? Pretty darn convenient, if you ask me. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I’ve taken advantage of that (I get updates and notices via the <a href="https://think.nd.edu/">ThinkND</a> newsletter—anyone can join!) and there have been some interesting discussions. I really enjoyed one from the curator of the Snite Museum of Art, in which he talked about a painting in their collection by Grace Hartigan. A beautiful Abstract Expressionist piece and a much-needed infusion of art! </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvOErkL_hu9IaVpWeprh2GRndeAaprmpAgLZYdZ9-Wy7_70oijbKVFkZ6ku-PM_pGRDpATj0QNidiizsmBIdj4wch6ukDKgzrqdHSng9CwTMkVZ5FwtF1JcLUYOLZbj70Ez6n9d3loAOo/s1140/Hartigan+The+King+is+Dead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="641" data-original-width="1140" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvOErkL_hu9IaVpWeprh2GRndeAaprmpAgLZYdZ9-Wy7_70oijbKVFkZ6ku-PM_pGRDpATj0QNidiizsmBIdj4wch6ukDKgzrqdHSng9CwTMkVZ5FwtF1JcLUYOLZbj70Ez6n9d3loAOo/w400-h225/Hartigan+The+King+is+Dead.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The most thought-provoking lecture happened last week. It was called “The Covid Vaccine: Good Science and Science for the Human Good.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It wasn’t </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">quite</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> what I expected, although I should have. Notre Dame is a Catholic university, after all. My first clue was when the discussion opened with a prayer. Hooo boy. Was this for me? I stuck with it, and I’m glad I did. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There were several presenters: one was a science professor who talked about the mechanisms of vaccine development, including which cell lines are used (hint: one is a cell line that’s been in existence for decades, and it’s from human fetal tissue); one was an ethics and philosophy professor who talked about whether it was ethical and in line with Catholic teachings to use something that uses cells from aborted fetuses, whether induced or spontaneous; one was a young seminarian who continued the theme of whether the Catholic church could condone this. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Well. As I’m sure you all know, I am firmly pro-choice. There are many nuances there but that’s not what this entry is about. While I don’t believe anything could make me change my mind on that, it made me think about how and why some people would object to scientific research using fetal tissue or cell lines. I don’t agree with that, but I saw it from their perspective in a way I hadn’t thought about before. (I still think that is short-sighted, but I get it a little better now.)</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After much discussion, all three presenters concluded that not only was it ethical to get the vaccine, it was a “moral imperative.” There was much convoluted, philosophical discussion of how far you were removed from the “evil” of abortion (their word, not mine), whether saving thousands of lives negated the “original evil” of the abortion that resulted in the cell line, the fact that for the Pfizer vaccine, that particular cell line is not used in production, merely quality control. (The Johnson & Johnson vaccine </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">does </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">use a fetal tissue cell line in production, but it is a long-established cell line, not that from a recent abortion.) </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of the presenters used the phrase in the title of this entry: getting the vaccine is an act of charity to humanity. Getting it is for the greater good of society. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It seemed like a really long way to get to what I already knew. But it made me think about it from a different perspective and I found that it really made me think and put myself in their shoes. They were quite uncomfortable shoes for me, but hey, it’s always good to think about things from another viewpoint. You might not feel the same way, but at least you can say, “Okay...I get where you’re coming from.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The seminarian also discussed the rise of conspiracy theories, about the vaccine and in general. He said something that I found very interesting. That sometimes the best thing to do is to let people do their own research. He called it “reading yourself out of the rabbit hole.” His point was that when we try to argue with people who believe those things, they just dig in deeper (that’s been my experience, too). That doesn’t solve the problem because most people who believe that nonsense aren’t going to seek out alternative views. But maybe some will. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The latter is part of the reason I have come to the decision to not engage with those who are refusing to get the vaccine for whatever reason they’ve landed upon. I could probably easily refute all of those reasons, but will they listen? Nope. My hope is that they will start seeing family and friends, loved ones, political figures, celebrities, sports figures, whoever, getting them and they’ll start to think, “Okay...none of these people are dropping dead, so maybe I should get it, too.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A gal can hope, right? </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Get your shot, peoples! The life you save might be one other than your own! </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7GQSN8AWIBvA_p8cXLcqk4T71K1g5fOd1ReiDnAXJqR1g_Z9PfJYidZr6BtIIILBezQjhQYdkKq6A0jZIcYSFi2h_tN14pMHzXVgDQBXHh7-o2XQd90vWdcEe97IsjoAjMCL2wYBAO3w/s480/Get+your+shot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="480" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7GQSN8AWIBvA_p8cXLcqk4T71K1g5fOd1ReiDnAXJqR1g_Z9PfJYidZr6BtIIILBezQjhQYdkKq6A0jZIcYSFi2h_tN14pMHzXVgDQBXHh7-o2XQd90vWdcEe97IsjoAjMCL2wYBAO3w/w400-h275/Get+your+shot.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-2806670749770382932021-01-28T23:57:00.001-05:002021-01-28T23:57:27.989-05:00Just Because You Can (Part Two)<p> <b id="docs-internal-guid-9e24597c-7fff-5ae1-8942-a9d5cd100bac" style="font-weight: normal;"></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge1oPKqdzaPBeUqL74Jvw_9_QfEzRUXTyZCxtCM6ZQizypSirKPfXrmxfxsMGrNxaHEH66iHI7WGHBQYSP0U7YxE6WyapAs2zUD-L_-tJESwVUJ9T4BUN04Ue0W4et3-8vl2I6OxNI6Lc/s912/Blonde+girl.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="617" data-original-width="912" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge1oPKqdzaPBeUqL74Jvw_9_QfEzRUXTyZCxtCM6ZQizypSirKPfXrmxfxsMGrNxaHEH66iHI7WGHBQYSP0U7YxE6WyapAs2zUD-L_-tJESwVUJ9T4BUN04Ue0W4et3-8vl2I6OxNI6Lc/w400-h270/Blonde+girl.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span id="docs-internal-guid-730fd15a-7fff-4966-e57d-b1302027153f"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(See Part One <a href="http://nutwoodjunction.blogspot.com/2020/10/just-because-you-can-part-one.html">here</a>)</span></span></p><p><span id="docs-internal-guid-addcaf66-7fff-bc63-97f4-629709ea3ffa"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie got up the next morning and left Calvin in the bed to sleep it off. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">After they’d left the party last night, Deanie stopped at a gas station and got a pack of cigarettes while Calvin slept in the passenger seat. She was never a smoker but smoking with Jolene felt kind of right. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">When they got home, Deanie got Calvin to wake up enough that she could haul him into the house and dump him into bed. Then she stayed up, smoked, and drank some whiskey. She honestly wished she had some of her Daddy’s moonshine that he used to brew up in the mountains. But whiskey would do for now. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She finally got up and carried herself off to bed, unzipping her dress along the way. When she got into their bedroom, she let her dress fall to the floor, took off her stockings and underthings, and slipped a nightgown over her head. She slid in between the sheets and laid awake for a while as Calvin snored beside her. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She thought about Jolene and how she seemed to want to be her friend. She thought about the things Jolene had said about both of their husbands. She finally dozed off to sleep and thanks to the whiskey (not to mention Ferlin’s dirty martoonis), she slept deeply. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie woke up to more of Calvin’s snoring. She rolled out of bed, put her robe on, and made herself some coffee. After she poured herself a cup, she sat down at the kitchen table and lit a cigarette. She looked at it. How had she never picked up this habit? She didn’t know, but she was enjoying it now. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">As she sat and looked out the window at the back yard, the phone rang. She answered on the second ring. “Hello, Marshall residence.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“So formal, Deanie! Hey. This is Jolene.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Hey, Jolene. Thanks for calling. How are you?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m fine. How are you doing?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Good. Just listening to Calvin snore.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene laughed. “Ferlin is upstairs so I can’t hear him, but he was snoring too when I got up this morning!” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie laughed. “Seems like they can’t handle their liquor.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Not as well as we can, that’s for damn sure.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie stifled a laugh and took a drag on her cigarette. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Deanna Joy Marshall, are you smoking?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie giggled. “I am!”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You said you didn’t smoke!”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I don’t. But today seemed like a good time to start.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, don’t let it become a habit. You won’t enjoy it eventually.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Okay.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I was wondering if you’d want to come over for lunch one day this week. I feel like...well, I do want to be friends with you.” She paused. “I’d really like to have a friend like you, Deanie.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie listened in astonishment. Someone as glamorous as Jolene wanted to be friends with </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">her</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">? She finally managed to stammer out, “I’d...I’d really enjoy that, Jolene. Thank you.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Wonderful! Is Tuesday good for you? One o’clock?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, that would be great.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, I’m so pleased. Hey, here’s a tip, honey. Make sure you have coffee made for when Calvin gets up. If you don’t, he’ll be a real pain in the ass.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie burst into laughter. “Jolene!” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene laughed, too, but said, “Trust me on this one. When we hang up, you’d best make it right away.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie said, “Okay, I will, I will.” She lowered her voice. “And yes, Calvin is a pain in the ass if he doesn’t have his morning coffee! I can’t imagine how bad he’ll be when he has a hangover.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene snorted and said, “I’m sure. See you on Tuesday, Deanie! Kisses!” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“See you then.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie hung up the phone slowly. She seemed to have made a friend. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She stubbed out her cigarette and got up to put on the percolator for Calvin’s coffee. She sat back while it brewed and lit another cigarette, smoking as she looked out the window. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">The coffee was finishing up when she heard Calvin stirring in the bedroom and making his way to the bathroom. He finished up and shuffled out to the kitchen, and sat heavily in the chair across from Deanie at the kitchen table. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She said, “Good morning.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">He grunted and she rolled her eyes. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">He said, “Coffee?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie was suddenly livid. “On the stove. You literally walked right past it.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">He finally looked up at her. “Get me a cup?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Are your legs broken?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">His eyes widened but then his need for coffee overcame his irritation and he went to the kitchen and poured himself a cup. She viciously thought, “How hard was that, dummy?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">He came back to the table and plopped into the chair again, taking a big swig of coffee. He seemed to finally get himself together and looked up at her and the first thing he said was, “Are you smoking?!” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She stared at him and realized at that moment that she despised him. He wasn’t that sweet boy up in the mountain woods anymore. He was just an asshole. She blew a cloud of smoke into his face, making him cough. “I don’t know. Am I?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">He waved his hand in the air. “Jesus, Deanie. Since when did you start smoking?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“As of now.” She glared at him. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">He sat back in the chair but it was obvious that he didn’t have any strength to do anything other than stare at her. “Well, at least open a damn window.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">He got up and went into the living room and clicked on the television. She heard him fall onto the couch, where he’d probably spend the rest of the afternoon. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She sighed and started cleaning up the kitchen. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">***</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She let him have his time on the couch. In the early evening, he finally went in and got dressed. She started putting dinner together and when he came back out, he was more civil. She decided to be a little nicer, too. She served up the Salisbury steaks and vegetables and sat down with him at the table. He complimented her on the dinner but they didn’t talk much beyond that. To be honest, she was thinking about what she would wear to her lunch date with Jolene. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">After he finished eating, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and went in to watch a little more television. She sighed and muttered, “You’re welcome.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She cleaned up the dinner dishes, tidied up the kitchen, and looked around. Everything was in its place. Or was it? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She walked into the living room where Calvin was sprawled out on the couch. “Good night, Calvin.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">He looked up in surprise. “You’re going to bed now? It’s early.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m feeling tired.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She went to the bedroom and put on her nightgown, then brushed her teeth. She climbed into bed and laid awake until she heard Calvin come into the bedroom. He slid into bed beside her and put his arm around her waist. He nuzzled her neck. “Deanie, you mad at me? Don’t be, darlin’.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She didn’t say anything. He rolled her onto her back so he could look at her. “Don’t be this way, Deanie.” He climbed on top of her. “No one else can love you like I do. You know that.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">He pushed her nightgown up and when he entered her, she looked over at the window. The moon was shining brightly over the trees and she stared at the moon. She thought about how the moon looked when it rose over the trees up in the mountains. She thought about a boy who had promised her the moon as he kissed her under the trees as the cicadas sang. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Calvin finally finished and climbed off of her. He laid back and fell asleep almost immediately. Deanie laid awake for a long while and when she started to finally doze off, Calvin began muttering incoherently in his sleep. He finally said a word Deanie recognized. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Jolene.” </span></p><p><br /></p>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-1710221955120083932020-11-02T19:15:00.001-05:002020-11-02T20:12:53.047-05:00Georgia on my Mind<p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11pt; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbEQR5Lry1VdmZeTMIjfArr_G0KAbQ6jGjHFVGVq9_0xsS5GFtvrLdmFlI20q_BVUH3EVfQauJGE0OWXmNTIr8hX77IEUUMODtNFBiJvxss9TmtnF6rfBc2SDJ4kctEWmB5CKq-64-nVM/s1280/diary.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="961" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbEQR5Lry1VdmZeTMIjfArr_G0KAbQ6jGjHFVGVq9_0xsS5GFtvrLdmFlI20q_BVUH3EVfQauJGE0OWXmNTIr8hX77IEUUMODtNFBiJvxss9TmtnF6rfBc2SDJ4kctEWmB5CKq-64-nVM/w400-h300/diary.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-cdfc529a-7fff-8ba2-8938-c51eb9e2f911"><span id="docs-internal-guid-ae17c1ad-7fff-d11f-3218-4e540808a045"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is my online writing home but I also have an analog home: I keep a hard copy journal and I have for years.</span></span><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I find that during Quarantimes, time has gotten a little wiggly for me. I find myself thinking of things from the past more and more. I told some friends that I think it’s my brain’s way of filling the void left by lack of social activities. Brain says, “Well, if I can’t go out and talk to a bunch of other people, I’m going to console myself with all these people from forty years ago. So there!” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Add to that a terrible sleeplessness due to thinking about the election and things get weird. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Magnificent Jake Tapper, on his daily CNN show, usually mentions one or two people at the end of his broadcast. People who have succumbed to Covid-19. It’s a sad but kind tribute. One day, he was talking about this guy and gave his town as Clarkesville, Georgia. My ears perked up immediately and it brought back a flood of memories. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I was still in high school, my parents bought a small place in the Georgia mountains—in Clarkesville. We had spent some time there because I had (and still have) relatives in north Georgia. It’s a beautiful area, and the house they bought was right on the edge of the Chattahoochee National Forest. I liked the area, too, but I didn’t want to spend my senior year in high school at a brand new school, one in the South. I would feel like a fish out of water. Mom and Dad agreed with that, so they hung onto the Indiana house and while they started working on the Georgia house (there was a lot of cleanup to do, and that’s a fascinating tale in its own right, but that’s a story for another day), my sister and her husband stayed with me in the Indiana house. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I graduated, we sold that house and I moved to Georgia with Mom and Dad, at least for the summer before college. I spent three summers there during college breaks and hearing a mention of Clarkesville (our address) brought all those memories back. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had a nice little corner bedroom. I didn’t like the air conditioning so I kept the two doors leading to my room closed and my two windows wide open to the hot and humid Georgia air. (My leather shoes and purses paid the price by giving their lives to mildew.) I had a high iron bed and loved to perch up there (I had to hop to get up onto it!) and read books, listen to records, and write in my journal, as well as letters to friends and family back home. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I thought back to that time, I could almost hear the loud buzzing of the cicadas, the rustling of the big rhododendron bush outside my window, and smell the scent of its blooms wafting through my room. I was 18-19 when I lived there and I was filled with all the uncertainties and longings of that age. I was trying to figure out my place in the world and trying to figure out this impending adulthood thing. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But for the time being, I was a college girl from the North living in a rural mountain town in the South. As I told others when I was thinking back to that time, I feel like it was the last time when I didn’t have a care in the world. I had the usual anxieties of the time, like nuclear war, and the usual anxieties of a teenage girl just starting to understand the power of being a woman. But no bills, no job to go to, no homework...just enjoying the present and dipping my toe into adulthood.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was a heady time and it gobsmacked me to feel all that like it was yesterday. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The point is (and there </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> a point here, I promise!) that it prompted me to find all my old journals. I spent a manic half hour late last night hunting them down, but I found them! As I read entries from that time, I had to laugh at myself, but it was also...what would be the word? Poignant? Bittersweet? I wanted to tell the 18-year-old Beth, “Listen. You’re gonna be okay. You’ll never figure it all out, because no one ever does, but you’re just starting your journey. Be true to yourself, and you’ll make your way.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This started out as a completely different entry, one about my brief romance with my Georgia boy, one that never came to fruition but was intoxicating nonetheless. I realized the back story was a little too long and deserved its own entry. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ll eventually read through all of these old journals and I’m sure it will be an emotional experience for me. I’ll share a few things on here but there will be plenty that I keep to myself. A gal’s gotta have </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">some </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">secrets, after all. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But Dear Diary knows all.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-8788237644647243142020-10-23T02:48:00.003-04:002020-10-23T02:48:49.808-04:00Just Because You Can (Part One)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2KP1Pm2FJoaBzC-lbGsFlBK5VmGKl_U5cyXrJMvSkRUcm5TY2D4lo8AxCjepp18A9nEeqWYge7sWMiXqqICaOKFUdsNKI5Jbtip2qyVuPP1VKCVth61l6eR-fRJ1Av9FcFSH8dpUOcM/s1021/Auburn+hair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="269" data-original-width="1021" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2KP1Pm2FJoaBzC-lbGsFlBK5VmGKl_U5cyXrJMvSkRUcm5TY2D4lo8AxCjepp18A9nEeqWYge7sWMiXqqICaOKFUdsNKI5Jbtip2qyVuPP1VKCVth61l6eR-fRJ1Av9FcFSH8dpUOcM/w640-h168/Auburn+hair.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Deanie! Hurry up! We’re gonna be late!” Calvin hollered from the living room. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie hollered back. “I’m coming!” She put the backs on her pearl earrings, the ones Calvin had given her on their tenth anniversary. She looked at herself in the mirror and smoothed her dress. Not too bad, if she did say so herself. She grinned and slipped into her shoes, grabbed her purse, and sauntered out to the living room. “How do I look?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Calvin saw her and said, “Finally! Let’s go.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her face fell and he realized he’d hurt her feelings. He stepped over to her and put his hands on her waist. “You look beautiful.” He kissed her forehead. “But we need to get going! I don’t want to be late to this party!” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie nodded and smiled at him, and they headed out to the car. He held the door open for her. All these years later and he was still a gentleman. Mostly.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">As they pulled out onto the road, Deanie said, “So tell me about this new boss of yours.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Calvin gripped the steering wheel. “He’s coming straight from Atlanta! Can you believe that? He’s a real bigwig, Deanie, and it’s a big deal to get invited to his house.” He glanced over at her. “So be on your best behavior.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie looked out the window. When was she not on her best behavior? They’d both grown up in the mountains, but sometimes Calvin seemed to think that she was nothing more than a dumb hillbilly. Of course, that made him one, too. She snorted quiet laughter. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Calvin looked over at her. “What’s so funny?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She resolved to not pick a fight and turned to him and smiled. “Nothing, sweetheart. I think a little bug just flew up my nose, that’s all.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">He stared at her for a moment and then turned his eyes back to the road. He began to talk about the new boss, Mr. Jenkins, and prattled on about how smart and sophisticated he was. Deanie’s mind wandered and she looked out the window. They’d come a long way from their little mountain town and although she was happy with their nice house in the suburbs, sometimes she missed the days when she’d meet Calvin late on a hot summer night and he’d kiss her under the mountain laurel, the cicadas singing in her ears. She missed that boy. And she missed the girl she’d been then. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She snapped out of her reverie when Calvin slapped the wheel and said, “Here we are! Won’t you look at this place, baby?” He pulled through a gate and up a curved expanse of blacktopped driveway. “We play our cards right and we could be the ones livin’ in a place like this! Woooo!” When Calvin got excited, he reverted back to his deep accent. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She looked at the house and had to admit that it was impressive. A lot bigger than their modest ranch. Seemed a little cold and imposing, though. She shook it off, and when he parked near the other cars and opened her door, she took his arm gratefully. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">They walked up the steps and rang the bell. They heard a clattering of steps from inside and a woman opened the door. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">When Deanie saw her, she almost let out a gasp. She was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. Her hair was a deep auburn, framing her face in gentle waves. Her skin looked like porcelain and her vivid red lipstick was in stark contrast to her pale complexion. She was dressed in a white satin cocktail dress, one that hugged her curves intimately, and Deanie suddenly felt embarrassed by her off-the-rack dress that she had just moments ago thought she looked so good in. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">But when Deanie raised her eyes to the woman, she felt an electric shock. She’d never seen eyes that were such a deep, emerald green. The spell was broken when the woman said, “Hello! Welcome!” Her voice was deep and somewhat husky. Deanie wondered if the woman smoked. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Please come in!” The woman beckoned them in and asked, “And who might you be?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie was silent, deciding to let Calvin introduce them, and when he didn’t say anything, she glanced over at him. He was standing there with his mouth open. Deanie moved a little closer to him and gave him a discreet elbow to his ribs. He looked over at her in astonishment and then back to the woman. “Oh! I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m Calvin Marshall. I work for Mr. Jenkins.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, yes, of course! Ferlin has mentioned you. And is this your lovely wife?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, yes. It is.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie looked at Calvin and inwardly rolled her eyes. It? Really, Calvin? She put out her hand to the woman. “Hi there. I’m Deanie.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">The woman took her hand and squeezed it. “Deanie! What an adorable name!”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s short for Deanna. Deanna Joy.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, that is just lovely. I’m Jolene. I’m Ferlin’s wife. Do come and join us. Ferlin has mixed up a batch of his dirty martinis and they are to die for!” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">They followed her down a hallway. Deanie looked around at the furnishings and artwork. She looked over at Calvin to point it all out to him and realized that he was watching Jolene. Deanie sighed to herself. It was shaping up to be a long night. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene led them out to a covered patio and over to a rather beefy man holding court with a couple of others. She put her hand on the man’s arm and said, “Ferlin, Calvin Marshall is here.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">The man looked up and grabbed Calvin’s hand. “Good to see you! Welcome to our home. And who is this lovely lady at your side?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene spoke up before Calvin could. “This is his wife, Deanie. Isn’t she adorable?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie was getting a little tired of being spoken of like a cocker spaniel, but smiled and took his hand. “Mr. Jenkins, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Calvin has said so many wonderful things about working for you.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“None of this ‘Mr. Jenkins’ nonsense, please. Call me Ferlin.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie nodded. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ferlin smacked Calvin on the shoulder. “Same goes for you! But only here. At the office, you call me Mr. Jenkins!” He laughed loudly and the other men he’d been talking to joined in. Calvin just looked dazed and finally tore his eyes away from Jolene.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, sir. Ferlin it is, sir.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ferlin rolled his eyes and then said, “Here. You both need a martooni. I make ‘em special. And extra dirty.” He winked at Deanie. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie thought, “Yes. This is going to be a really long night.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ferlin poured them drinks and watched as they took a sip. Calvin started coughing and Ferlin pounded him on the back. He said, “Hey now, Calvin! Can’t you handle your drink?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie choked for a moment on what seemed like straight gin, but recovered quickly. She smiled and said, “It’s delicious, Ferlin. Thank you.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">He beamed at her. “Atta girl! You’re all right, Deanie!” He looked at Calvin. “You could take a lesson from your wife!” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Calvin flushed a deep red. Deanie looked at Jolene in desperation, and Jolene sprang to the rescue. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Calvin!” Jolene’s voice rang out. “Let me take you and Deanie on a little stroll through our gardens. Yes?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie nodded gratefully and Jolene took each of them by the arm and led them down a pathway, pointing out various plants along the way. She mentioned nothing about Ferlin’s remarks, and Deanie was grateful. Calvin seemed nothing less than smitten by Jolene.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">As Jolene showed them the ornamental trees, Deanie wondered if Calvin’s aspirations were really what they needed in their lives and if these were the people they wanted to be around. But she had to admit that Jolene was charming. As they strolled down the garden path, Jolene asked her about her hobbies and passions. Deanie found herself responding enthusiastically about various books she had been reading and about how she’d been dabbling in a little painting. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene continued to ask her questions and despite her initial feelings of intimidation, Deanie decided that she liked Jolene a lot. She was kind and warm and seemed to be interested in what Deanie had to say. Which was more than Calvin was lately. Deanie glanced over at Calvin, on the other side of Jolene, and he was openly gaping at Jolene. Oh, for Pete’s sake. Deanie stopped on the path and said, “Jolene, I’m feeling a little warm out here in the sun. Your garden is lovely, but I think I need some shade.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene turned to her and said, “Oh, of course! Are you okay?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie nodded. “I just need to get out of the sun. And probably a glass of water.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Let’s get you back and get you cooled off!” Jolene put an arm around Deanie’s shoulders and led her back to the house, Calvin trailing behind them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene got them to the house and firmly told Calvin to talk to Ferlin, then took Deanie into the kitchen. She sat Deanie down at the table and ran a cold glass of water at the tap. She handed it to Deanie and sat down at the table with her. “Have a sip. Are you sure you’re all right? You do look a little flushed.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie sipped the water. It tasted good. “I’m fine. I’m so sorry.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene put her hand on Deanie’s. “Don’t be. It’s a warm day.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie looked up at her. “My husband likes you very much. He keeps staring at you.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene sat back. “I had noticed that.” She picked up a pack of cigarettes on the table, shook one out, and lit it. She held out the pack to Deanie. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie didn’t smoke but she kind of felt like having one now. She picked one out of the pack and Jolene lit it for her. Deanie coughed a bit and Jolene smiled at her. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie took a drag and coughed again. Then she bucked up and decided to be honest. “Listen, Jolene. I know you could have him if you want. It’s pretty obvious to me that he’d be happy about that. But he’s all I’ve got. Please don’t take him from me.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene stared at her for a moment and then stood up and went to the sink and stared out the window. She finally turned to Deanie. “You know, I thought you might be different.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie blinked. “What do you mean?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene walked back to the table and sat down again. “You seemed nice. Genuine. Not like the usual women I encounter.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I AM nice!” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene laughed. “Honestly, you are. But do you have any idea how many times this has happened?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie shook her head. “How many times what has happened?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Another woman thinking that I want to steal her husband away.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie didn’t say anything. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s so predictable. Ferlin hires someone new, we have a party, the new employee and his wife come, the husband is smitten with me, and the wife thinks I’m trying to steal him from her.” She waved her cigarette in the air. “It’s so typical.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie bristled. “I’m not typical!” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No, you aren’t. That’s why I thought you might be different.” She laughed. “Honestly, do you really think I would want to steal your husband? Why?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie was dumbfounded. She realized she didn’t know how to answer that. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene laughed again. “You can’t answer that, can you?” She leaned over and took Deanie’s hand again. “I don’t want your husband. He’s as much of a pig as Ferlin is.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie gasped and pulled her hand back. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, don’t act so shocked. You know it’s true. We put up with this all the time. I’m expected to be a good hostess for Ferlin and put up with him. I suspect it’s the same for you.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie stared at her in shock. Then she took a big drag on her cigarette and blew it out. She stubbed it out in the ashtray and looked into Jolene’s green eyes. “It is.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I knew it.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">They both laughed and then Calvin appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He leaned his arm against the door frame and said, “What are you lovely ladies up to?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie turned back to Jolene and they covered their mouths to stop from laughing out loud. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ferlin came up behind Calvin and clapped his hands on Calvin’s shoulders. “Where are my girls at?!” he yelled. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie and Jolene looked at each other again, barely able to contain their laughter. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ferlin moved up to Deanie and put his hands on her waist, and Deanie’s laughter dried up. She stared at Jolene and when Ferlin started to move his hand up, Jolene said, “Deanie and I need to go powder our noses. Excuse us.” She took Deanie’s arm and hustled her to the restroom. She got her inside and shut the door behind them. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Deanie, are you okay?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie nodded, but she couldn’t get the feeling of Ferlin’s hand out of her head. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Listen, Deanie. I’m so sorry. Ferlin gets handsy sometimes, especially after he’s had a snootful.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie nodded again and then decided she needed to say something. “Thanks for getting me out of there. I don’t want to hurt Calvin’s chances at his job, you know.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene rested her hand on her hip, turned on the overhead fan, and lit a cigarette. She held out the pack to Deanie, and Deanie took another one. At this rate, she’d be up to a pack a day in no time. They smoked in silence for a moment. Deanie began to relax and leaned back against the vanity. She shook her head and laughed a little. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She looked up at Jolene, who smiled. “I know, honey. Believe me, I know.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">The rest of the evening passed without incident, although Calvin still acted odd and out of character. He stared at Jolene a lot. After a round of charades and more of Ferlin’s martoonis, the party wound down and people started to leave. Calvin was more than a little unsteady on his feet, but Jolene and Deanie had absconded to the kitchen for a few glasses of water during the evening, so she felt fine. She told Calvin she’d drive them home. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Calvin sulked a bit but was in no condition to put up a fight about it, and Deanie and Jolene got him into the passenger seat of the car. When Deanie slid behind the wheel, Jolene leaned in and asked, “May I call you tomorrow?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie looked into her lovely face and nodded. Jolene smiled and said, “Wonderful. Drive safely and get Calvin home and into bed.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deanie finally smiled back and said, “I will, thank you. And thank you for a lovely evening!” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jolene patted the side of the car and leaned back, with a smirk on her face. Deanie put the car in gear and backed out into the driveway. “Jolene understands me,” she thought. She pulled out onto the dark road and pointed the car towards home.</span></p>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-75765226394658621052020-07-04T17:56:00.001-04:002020-07-04T17:57:03.744-04:00Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?<span id="docs-internal-guid-23666064-7fff-4465-af33-6286e420e3c4"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">~~ The Declaration of Independence</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9yPGKMO34pneAa_rmKznya3cOwidfBXCwK7pK0EfYZ8BIf5WxHgnYd0jbDwPVN-8yvd-cQARz_pLM9FUqcshv4s_JuFAWbhXEEKc2c9p5WmPa9SKdwis-QhVGPfwGPsq7TKKNh3KaXQc/s2000/Hamilton.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1246" data-original-width="2000" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9yPGKMO34pneAa_rmKznya3cOwidfBXCwK7pK0EfYZ8BIf5WxHgnYd0jbDwPVN-8yvd-cQARz_pLM9FUqcshv4s_JuFAWbhXEEKc2c9p5WmPa9SKdwis-QhVGPfwGPsq7TKKNh3KaXQc/w400-h249/Hamilton.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-ab9f79d2-7fff-045b-0417-9a6c6ea1f3a6"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Last night, like so many others, we watched the movie of “Hamilton” on Disney+. We had seen the Chicago production of it a while back and loved it, but seeing the original Broadway cast perform it was mind-blowing. The acting, the music, even the lighting, were just spectacular. It was fun to see friends who had never seen it experience it and realize how incredibly good it is.</span></span> </span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If I were a history teacher, I’d do everything in my power to get my kids to see this. Not only does it teach history, it teaches it in a modern way, bringing those original ideas into the present and helping people understand what a remarkable experiment our country is. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While we watched the movie, the “president” was having a photo op at Mount Rushmore and talking about the “leftist mobs” in the country. His comments were divisive as well as dismissive of the suffering happening in our country right now. Thousands of people are getting sick and dying every day, and he chose to stoke racial and partisan anger, as well as endangering all those who attended. This so-called president might want to ignore the coronavirus, but it is not ignoring people. It struck me as a terrible message to deliver on a day that means a lot to our “grand experiment.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Those of us bearing witness right now will tell this “president’s” story. And it will not be kind. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It also struck me that those who founded our country would be particularly appalled by such a demagogue. They did what they could to prevent someone like him from gaining power, but they were far from infallible. They were imperfect in many ways, but they did have a visionary view of what our country could be. We obviously haven’t achieved that yet, but we are a work in progress. We work towards a more perfect union. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On this day, we should resolve to defeat not just this “president” in November, but to defeat this toxic form of nationalism. We know we can do better, and we must. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Happy Birthday, America. You’re having a really weird mid-life crisis, but I’m going to hold out hope that you will learn from this and strive for better. I still believe in you. I need you to believe in yourself, the way Alexander Hamilton and others did. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DSCKfXpAGHc" width="560"></iframe></span></p><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-86161724246285109242020-06-27T19:10:00.000-04:002020-06-27T19:10:14.549-04:00American Idiots<span id="docs-internal-guid-b2825fa7-7fff-410c-bfbc-a258d50132d0"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Don't wanna be an American idiot</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Don't want a nation under the new mania</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And can you hear the sound of hysteria?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The subliminal mind-fuck America</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">~~ “American Idiot” by Green Day</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrZQAM8BrfVafsHYQnwEu77zBlrtU2oaU1YpWYen1l2auOCb6G9PM5tBKNFE17pwIO64_rxbhZSXYFTZ3v0gDrFSYBAxIvYbNA_A-7GqyaCLce3FZBZ0FouRygmNQzQb7-mPOODG8nE4/s1200/Rick+Dalton+flamethrower.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrZQAM8BrfVafsHYQnwEu77zBlrtU2oaU1YpWYen1l2auOCb6G9PM5tBKNFE17pwIO64_rxbhZSXYFTZ3v0gDrFSYBAxIvYbNA_A-7GqyaCLce3FZBZ0FouRygmNQzQb7-mPOODG8nE4/w400-h200/Rick+Dalton+flamethrower.jpg" title="AHAHAHAHA" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AHAHAHAHA<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span id="docs-internal-guid-bfbaa6d7-7fff-22dc-bed2-d0fecc8f5214"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></span><div><span><span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m not sure, but I think I might have reached my limit when it comes to idiocy.</span></span></span><div><font face=""><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow but at the moment, I’m ready to break out the Rick Dalton flamethrower. Die, you Nazi bastards! AHAHAHAHA</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shit. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I honestly don’t know how to process the sheer dumbfuckery that I’m seeing right now. A former coworker—a scientist!—posting bullshit conspiracy theories; a spike in cases in states that opened too soon; a so-called “president” who thinks that pretending that this virus doesn’t exist just makes it magically go *poof*. Presto! No more virus! No more cases! No more DEATHS. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Blaming China like it </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">fucking matters at this point</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. First of all, there is zero scientific evidence that this was engineered in a Chinese lab. Second, there is such a thing as “global travel.” People travel to and from various countries all the time, whether for business or pleasure. Third, viruses and other infectious agents don’t give one single fuck about supposedly closed borders. Fourth, it is already here and has been since late in 2019, so isn’t the whole point to do what we can to contain and mitigate it? Yes! Yes it is! </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">FInally, we fucking </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">told you so</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Even little old me, just a lowly microbiologist working in a local lab, has been warning about a pandemic for years. Scientists much more knowledgeable than I have been sounding the warning for even longer. The Obama administration listened to those scientists and had </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">an actual playbook</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> that laid out what a global pandemic might look like and how to deal with it. Every lab I ever worked in and every company with any concern about operations in such a scenario had an emergency plan. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The current administration basically tossed it in the trash. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am so disgusted and angry that I just want to break stuff. In fact, I need to pause for a few hours before I throw my laptop across the room because I am PISSED OFF. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">[break]</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">[three days later]</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While I’m in a better frame of mind, I am still disgusted. Yesterday, we were subjected to the Idiot’s Pet Ghost VP standing in front of the American people and lying right to our faces with what Seth Meyers calls his “dumb little hyphen mouth.” The response to this has not been a success, and anyone with half a brain can see it. One of the things I find most infuriating is that they all seem to think we’re stupid and can’t see what is happening in front of us. It’s obvious that their rabid supporters are suckers supreme, but the majority of us aren’t. The polls are showing it. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A couple of things occurred to me over the past couple of days. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">First, I’m seeing a certain subset of Americans that are practicing what I would call “toxic individualism.” I don’t know if I coined that phrase or if I read it somewhere and it stuck with me, but I suspect the latter. Either way, I think it is fitting. At the press conference yesterday, Dr. Fauci spoke truth to power and told the American people that we don’t just have responsibility to ourselves and our loved ones, we also “have a societal responsibility.” The Idiot “president” and his acolytes have severely damaged the social contract and it may be beyond repair. We’re seeing a weird evangelical defiance about gathering to worship and not wearing masks despite the outbreaks traced to church gatherings. One has to wonder about how much some of these people care about others as their god directs them to. Ken and I and plenty of our atheist friends obviously care more than some of these yahoos do. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzglxhRIZlm3fMPDDoQDID8wA5ddDqWht8gw2ZDkreVYkCSbOgCAuDnYtieph8rCpM-6ia0W0yPoRxDggRxEMdux-sc-P7ENW4Xcrm5fnQN4zLMMbsV4gQ_iUA0EDyl8Ohyl87epuyvfQ/s1160/Dr+Fauci+wears+a+mask.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="653" data-original-width="1160" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzglxhRIZlm3fMPDDoQDID8wA5ddDqWht8gw2ZDkreVYkCSbOgCAuDnYtieph8rCpM-6ia0W0yPoRxDggRxEMdux-sc-P7ENW4Xcrm5fnQN4zLMMbsV4gQ_iUA0EDyl8Ohyl87epuyvfQ/w400-h225/Dr+Fauci+wears+a+mask.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Real men wear masks<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Second, I really think we are mainly on our own right now. The federal government has provided some stimulus and relief money for those who are suffering right now, but the lack of true leadership is painfully obvious. More still needs to be done, but they are ignoring the increase in cases and what really needs to happen in order to control this pandemic and tamp out the fires. All it would take would be for this dysfunctional administration to come out with a statement saying that it is vital to American interests for everyone to stay home if possible and to wear masks if it isn’t. And then be publicly present wearing masks. Can you imagine how much that would help? </span></span><br /><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sadly, they won’t do that and I honestly don’t know why. They aren’t just dysfunctional. They just don’t give a fuck. They really don’t. And all those poor saps who say, “He cares about us!” are as delusional as he is. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Also sadly, while I think it is up to us, I really don’t think we’re up to the task. The majority of us know the reality of things, but there are far too many people who seem to be blissfully ignoring reality. I’m not sure how that’s going to work out for them, and unfortunately, it impacts all of us. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I think it’s important that all of us with an ounce of reason and common sense start speaking up a little more. I’m not going to go out of my way to confront maskless people who are distant enough from me to not pose a danger, but if someone gets up in my grill or says something shitty to me, I will not hold back. Time to start shaming people, if you ask me. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At a time when the American people need to show the resolve that we’ve been known for throughout the decades, I believe that we are woefully inadequate to the task. It makes me sad to say that, but it is obviously and painfully true. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Ee_uujKuJMI" width="560"></iframe></span></p><div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></div></div>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-54016155604690262032020-06-22T23:36:00.000-04:002020-06-22T23:36:06.881-04:00Boring<span id="docs-internal-guid-72c9d852-7fff-3233-d945-ad3372892e62"></span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-72c9d852-7fff-3233-d945-ad3372892e62"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I won't stoop to your level</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-72c9d852-7fff-3233-d945-ad3372892e62"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You'd have us fightin' everyday</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-72c9d852-7fff-3233-d945-ad3372892e62"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you had your way</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-72c9d852-7fff-3233-d945-ad3372892e62"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I'm always wrong, you're always right</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-72c9d852-7fff-3233-d945-ad3372892e62"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now I'm getting on with my life</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-72c9d852-7fff-3233-d945-ad3372892e62"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'Cause you bore me</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-72c9d852-7fff-3233-d945-ad3372892e62"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yeah you bore me</span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-72c9d852-7fff-3233-d945-ad3372892e62"><br />
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-72c9d852-7fff-3233-d945-ad3372892e62"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">~~ “You Bore Me” by Blue Flannel</span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-72c9d852-7fff-3233-d945-ad3372892e62"><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-qs4irz1IUWPEaQ1TCmkmsdvZyAtUdq1JsW1UQHx8Oei6LGzyTlVdrBWY83AGkee3fHnJWLnnS9n5Q98vvVzlqITpI_S6y40ZCCGjBRh8s7OAPKY3Vrr97-aOjGWwJ7t4bBFp2KZAsI/s1600/Trump+mower+crowd.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="292" data-original-width="458" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-qs4irz1IUWPEaQ1TCmkmsdvZyAtUdq1JsW1UQHx8Oei6LGzyTlVdrBWY83AGkee3fHnJWLnnS9n5Q98vvVzlqITpI_S6y40ZCCGjBRh8s7OAPKY3Vrr97-aOjGWwJ7t4bBFp2KZAsI/s400/Trump+mower+crowd.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey, I'm yelling at you!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I didn’t watch the “president’s” Tulsa rally because I’m not a masochist. But I watched the coverage leading up to it and I watched clips after it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Empty seats. Subdued attendees. The Little Overflow Area That Wasn’t.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It reinforced something that I’ve been feeling for some time now: his shtick has gotten old. Old, boring, and dumb. Just like him. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember way back in the old days of the 2016 primaries, when we watched the Republican primary debates with a weird combination of fascination and horror. What would that idiot say next? Ahh, we were all so naive then. We thought it couldn’t get worse than a candidate talking about the size of his dick on national TV. Silly young things, weren’t we? </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I think he realized how disastrous that Tulsa rally was. We’ve all seen the video of him getting back to the White House that night, getting off Marine One looking all disheveled, downtrodden, and defeated, his tie draped around his shoulders and his sad little MAGA hat crumpled in his hand. It’s almost enough to make you feel sorry for him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ALMOST. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t, not one bit. This horror show is all of his own making, his fragile, hungry ego crying out for adulation and praise and full-throated approval. Health concerns be damned. He needed his fix. When he didn’t get it, we saw the sad clown (with apologies to clowns) at the core of him. A hollowed-out shell of someone who never got the approval he so desperately desired, whether it was from his father or the East coast “elites” who didn’t accept him despite his supposed wealth. He is a sad and broken excuse for a human being. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The whole thing was pathetic. But what struck me most about that sad spectacle was that he was so goddamn BORING. Even his die-hard supporters, the ones who were actually there, were yawning. Honestly, how often can anyone listen to his bullshit and find it even remotely interesting? It’s the same shit, different day. Yet another airing of his grievances. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At a time when thousands of Americans have died, people of color fear for their lives from a police force that has abused its power, and our economy is tanking, he uttered not one word about the dead, the pandemic, the people who have been killed at the hands of police, or the millions of people who are out of jobs and struggling to pay bills. It was all about him. All of it. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was not a good look, to say the least. </span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I think that a lot of people are starting to wake up to that. Even if they liked some of his policies (bless their hearts), they are starting to understand that he’s just not capable of fulfilling his duties. I know that there is a subset of people who will follow him to the end (that’s a subject for another day), but any fence-sitters or hesitant supporters are starting to grow weary of his lame washed-up comedian routine. Maybe when we boot his sorry ass out of the White House in November, he can get a decent gig at a seedy dinner theater in the Poconos. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even long-term comedians know that they have to come up with new material. This idiot doesn’t get that. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m starting to feel a bit of a turning tide. With every humiliation, defeat, and failure, he continues his death spiral. We have months to go before election day, but things feel different now, don’t they? </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christ, I hope so. My liver is about ready to cry “Uncle!” and I’m not sure I can take four more years. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/d9hlUbKrWyc" width="560"></iframe></span></div>
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</span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-17111810796447268092020-05-16T00:46:00.000-04:002020-05-16T12:44:31.600-04:00Hit me with your best shot<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Hit me with your best shot</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Come on!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Hit me with your best shot</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Fire away</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~~ "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" by Pat Benatar</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCk6eknL5z0QRkO32MrOkAWR8YvWJKbUzGHlrF0Ve36bNjJwtrF1udM2IE6E073b-VQwgW7GSnRosxs7MWnrjWgmnxROIsmTuDL93Pwpc-xRTA4aoKFkIoxp6_3vgTr0LGvPJPvFDKMUo/s1600/Vaccine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="294" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCk6eknL5z0QRkO32MrOkAWR8YvWJKbUzGHlrF0Ve36bNjJwtrF1udM2IE6E073b-VQwgW7GSnRosxs7MWnrjWgmnxROIsmTuDL93Pwpc-xRTA4aoKFkIoxp6_3vgTr0LGvPJPvFDKMUo/s320/Vaccine.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Be Best</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">No, I'm not kidding. I want your best shot. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It seems that the Idiot-In-Chief and self-proclaimed genius epidemiologist (he's really good at that stuff, y'all) has decided that we're going to have a vaccine against the Coronavirus that causes COVID-19 by the end of 2020. Amazingly, some scientists are all on board and going along with that timetable, although the vast majority think that is way too optimistic. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Count me among the latter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I never was part of vaccine development but I studied a bit about it and spent my entire career in healthcare. One thing I <i>did </i>do as part of my job was testing new methods against old methods. I.e., when a new test was developed and became available and we thought we might want to switch to it, we ran duplicate tests comparing it to our current test. We needed to make sure it compared well and that the results were shown to be accurate before we adopted the new method. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Let me tell you...that was involved and tedious enough. With vaccine development, we're talking a whole other level of complexity. Formulating a vaccine itself isn't going to be extremely difficult; it's the subsequent testing that it must endure that takes time and large numbers of tests. The main goals are to find something that is both safe and effective. <i>This does not happen overnight</i> or with the snap of an artificially orange tiny finger. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That's why I am so dubious of a <i>safe </i>vaccine by year's end. And you know what? If there is a vaccine, and they actually manage to manufacture it in the large doses needed, I will not be getting it immediately, and Ken most certainly will not. You all know how I am about vaccines. They save lives. That is not debatable, although many try. (They are wrong.) I know the truth of it. But I also know the consequences of a rushed vaccine that has not been entirely vetted. Some vaccines have carried the increased risk of Guillain-Barré syndrome (the swine flu vaccine in the '70s) and some, like the first incarnation of the Rotavirus vaccine, resulted in a rare but serious condition called intussusception, which is an intestinal complication that can result in blockage and the need for surgical intervention. (That vaccine was pulled from use and another one was developed.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To summon an Internet meme, one does not simply walk into a safe vaccine. It requires development, <i>in vitro</i> testing, <i>in vivo</i> testing in animals, and then <i>in vivo</i> testing in humans. The level of antibody development needs to be determined as well as how long those antibodies last, which will determine if it will confer immunity for a matter of years or only of months. Follow-up testing needs to be done to see if any long-term issues arise. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It might not be rocket science but it's pretty damn complex in a different way. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Rushing a vaccine to market for mass consumption is a dangerous prospect. I trust nothing that comes from the mouths of political operatives. I trust the science. If the orange idiot starts talking up this vaccine and I don't hear scientists agreeing, I will run the other way from that vaccine. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">***</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1dOvQYGbfNttMZHBp7_K2Qn9lbDGYHDWvrBSRPX9RIlGqUMdCQWGDpTHrT3GPAPXCcBhEwRTDtL4WBw8UPHdcTPSyR48sqjm5544uRiOu7NF75OagA_zjp5OYln1F_GPH09SJ7rDIM8/s1600/DNA+lab+testing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1dOvQYGbfNttMZHBp7_K2Qn9lbDGYHDWvrBSRPX9RIlGqUMdCQWGDpTHrT3GPAPXCcBhEwRTDtL4WBw8UPHdcTPSyR48sqjm5544uRiOu7NF75OagA_zjp5OYln1F_GPH09SJ7rDIM8/s400/DNA+lab+testing.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time to make the vaccines</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On a related note, I watched the testimony before Congress from Dr. Rick Bright, the whistleblower who said that his warnings about the urgency of this virus went unheeded. (Quote of the Year: "We're in deep shit.") I was dismayed to see many of the Republican congresscritters trying to shield the so-called "president" when it comes to his constant touting of hydroxychloroquine as a therapy, despite no valid scientific studies being done to test its effectiveness against this virus. Most of the studies so far have shown either no efficacy or actual harm, with a worse outcome in many cases. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But one after another, they sat up there and grilled Dr. Bright about hydroxychloroquine and "why not try it?" I'll sum up Dr. Bright's answer and then I'll give my own to that question. He said, in essence, "Your anecdotal evidence doesn't count for shit." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My answer is that you don't try treatments when you don't know the outcomes. While the treatment has been around for a long time as a malaria drug and for some other conditions, it has not been fully vetted as a treatment for this virus. There is a shit-ton that we don't know about this virus and about the damage it causes to various tissues and systems, and just shoving a drug at it willy-nilly is irresponsible and negligent at best and downright malpractice at worst. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Some of these people in Congress keep trying to appease the toddler in the White House and say, "It works for malaria. Why not give it a try?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The reason I gave on Facebook is basically this: there are many treatments that work for one thing and don't work for another. A simple example is that penicillin-class antibiotics can be quite effective against some Gram-positive organisms like Staph and Strep. (Not so much Staph anymore, but that's because it developed resistance, so much so that penicillin is no longer an effective antibiotic against Staph.) However, due to its mechanism against organisms (it involves differences in cell walls), penicillin and most other antibiotics in that class are completely ineffective against Gram-negative organisms like E coli or Pseudomonas. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, to give a treatment example: if you had a patient who presented with septicemia (a blood infection) caused by E coli and you gave your patient penicillin, you would be causing harm because that is an ineffective treatment. Your patient would die because that is a very serious infection, one of the most life-threatening you can get. "What do you have to lose?" Well, when you push ineffective treatments, your patient could lose their life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here's another very simple example: a couple of ibuprofen works great on a headache, but it ain't gonna do shit for your yeast infection, honey. But if you take enough ibuprofen, you risk renal damage. But hey, what have you got to lose, right? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That's why it is important to conduct the studies and determine whether or not the treatment can cure, mitigate or decrease the length of illness, or if it causes actual harm. We have not done those studies on the magnitude that is necessary and it is beyond irresponsible for people to be pushing any sort of treatment without the necessary vetting. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I know this was way too science-y but everything I'm hearing from the non-scientists in this administration is grating on my last nerve. It is glaringly obvious that they have no clue what they're talking about. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Although I have a suggestion. Perhaps some sort of bleach injection or ingestion could help. Come on, fellas.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What have you got to lose? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0JRgHol94Xc?start=69" width="560"></iframe></span><br />
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</span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-60605871674873768282020-05-07T23:45:00.000-04:002020-05-07T23:45:51.137-04:00Lost and Found<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijxPLiLYF-n5RxcJndtvN09QAhxOlXAa3ieRRMNez46XjQp2KEpAFqdpgbQPoCsDGdnNKye1Eh_dbMBKax61LBx5L-ciQSNryFiUilxB4Iv1s9weA_PqnQFhE-7mr1bzJ7cKsPZFxhREc/s1600/Child+at+gravestone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="616" data-original-width="960" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijxPLiLYF-n5RxcJndtvN09QAhxOlXAa3ieRRMNez46XjQp2KEpAFqdpgbQPoCsDGdnNKye1Eh_dbMBKax61LBx5L-ciQSNryFiUilxB4Iv1s9weA_PqnQFhE-7mr1bzJ7cKsPZFxhREc/s400/Child+at+gravestone.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Emma ran out of the flat into the tangled weeds behind their building and made her way to the gravestone in the graveyard beyond. She needed some air. She put her hand on her big sister's stone and said, "I miss you, Eliza." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">She cried a little but wiped the tears off of her face with the hem of her dress. Her sister had died two weeks ago and Emma still didn't quite know what to do with herself. She felt lost. Eliza had brushed her hair and had made her clean her teeth. Now that Eliza was gone, her hair had gotten more than a little ratty and she rubbed her tongue across her teeth. Emma resolved to at least clean her teeth today, to let Eliza know that she hadn't forgotten her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">She made her way back into the house, picking her way carefully through the brambles. When she entered the flat, she called out to her Mum and Dad but got no reply. She walked through the small dining space to their bedroom and stood in the doorway. "Mama?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">She got no response and walked over to the bed. She shook Mama's shoulder but she wouldn't wake up. She seemed cold so Emma got a blanket from the sideboard and put it over her Mum and Dad. She patted her Papa on the shoulder and said, "Sleep, Papa. It's okay. I know you're tired." She noticed a bad smell in the air so she opened the window a little. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">She went to the kitchen and found an old biscuit that her Mum had made and sat at the table as she nibbled it. Mama hadn't made a proper meal for a few days, but Emma was resourceful and managed to find things to eat. She wished for fresh milk but was content to have some water. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After Eliza had died and they had buried her in the boneyard, her Mum and Dad had retreated to themselves. Emma knew that they loved her but they had gotten so quiet and they didn't laugh and play like they used to. Papa hadn't said much anyway once he got back from what Mama called the Great War, and he had left half of one of his legs over there. He also had a hard time talking to everyone, because he was always so out of breath. Mama explained to the girls that it was the mustard, but Emma never understood that, because she always liked mustard when they had it with dinner. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As Emma nibbled at her biscuit, she heard a knock on the door. She went over to the door, taking her biscuit with her. She opened the door a crack and looked out to see who was there. When she saw that it was Mrs. Brambadge from next door, she opened the door wide. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mrs. Brambadge said, "Hello, Emma. How are you?" She was usually a very cheery sort but seemed quite serious now. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Emma shrugged. "I'm well, thank you." She continued to nibble her biscuit. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mrs. Brambadge cleared her throat and said, "I was wondering if your Mum and Dad are about. I had hoped to talk to them."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Emma looked up at her and didn't say anything. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The neighbor continued, "I really need to talk to them if they're here, you see. There have been some things happening that...well, I really think I should talk to them. Can I do that, love?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Emma took her hand and led her inside. She drew her over to where Mama and Papa slept in their bed and pointed. "They're in there. But you probably should let them sleep. They've been very tired and they sleep all the time lately." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mrs. Brambadge looked at her and then looked up into the dimness of the bedroom. She put her hand on the doorjamb and took a step inside. Then another. Emma heard her say, "Lila? James? Are you awake?" The woman stepped further into the room and Emma heard her gasp. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The nice neighbor rushed out of the bedroom, braced herself against the wall, then leaned over and vomited profusely, all over the floorboards that Mama had just scrubbed last week. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">She looked up at Emma, who watched her calmly. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Oh, my dear child. How long have your Mum and Dad been...sleeping?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Emma thought about it. "Well, Mama made these biscuits a few days ago." She took another nibble and looked at it. "There's a green spot here, but it still tastes good." Mrs. Brambadge looked up at Emma from her crouch on the floor, a look in her eyes that Emma knew was one of both horror and sadness. Emma didn't know how she knew this but she supposed that she'd seen enough of both in her short time on earth. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mrs. Brambadge made her way to her feet, brushing away the flies that seemed to have descended upon Emma's house lately. She closed the bedroom door firmly behind her, pressing her hand to her mouth. She took a deep breath and then grabbed Emma's hand. She pulled her along behind her to the door, her ample bosom leading the way. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Emma held back. "No, Mrs. Brambadge! I need to be here when Mama and Papa wake up! They'll be hungry."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The woman looked down at Emma, who realized that the neighbor was truly very distraught. "Oh, child," she said, her hand on Emma's head. "Come with me next door."<br /><br />Emma resisted. "I told you! Mama and Papa will be hungry when they get up!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mrs. Brambadge peered at her. "Emma, your Mum and Dad aren't getting up. They are sleeping, yes...but they...they aren't going to be hungry if they wake up. And yes, I said 'if.'" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Emma bowed her head and then looked up at Mrs. Brambadge. "They aren't going to wake up are they, Missus?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mrs. Brambadge shook her head. "No, child. I don't believe they are." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Emma slipped her hand into Mrs. Brambadge's. They walked outside and Emma looked up at her. "Are you my new Mum?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The older woman looked startled and looked down at Emma. "Why, yes, child. I suppose I am. I seem to have found you, haven't I?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Emma nodded. "Yes, mum. Will you brush my hair?" She smiled up at the nice lady and they walked home. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-34377307690189792222020-04-25T19:27:00.000-04:002020-04-26T02:23:19.114-04:00For immediate press release<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>The Devil went down to Georgia, he was lookin' for a soul to steal</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>He was in a bind 'cause he was way behind, he was willing to make a deal</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~~ "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" by The Charlie Daniels Band</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZqEHeSUKIXtF_QLn5srj5a9IQlJBGDdphcqW4FPbNV5zztTtH53oMe_d0jfR4DfJJm82DpR0bWzvcsOKpPVLLNcYaPibijEFZGyoQaicwaawD_eEz7tw4yOlSGmREBJ1Fa60CIyY4OE/s1600/Devil+cancels+trip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZqEHeSUKIXtF_QLn5srj5a9IQlJBGDdphcqW4FPbNV5zztTtH53oMe_d0jfR4DfJJm82DpR0bWzvcsOKpPVLLNcYaPibijEFZGyoQaicwaawD_eEz7tw4yOlSGmREBJ1Fa60CIyY4OE/s400/Devil+cancels+trip.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>(SNN) Satan News Network has announced that the Dark Lord has not only canceled his plans to attend and participate in this year's Fiddle Throwdown in Marietta, Georgia, the sponsor of the shindig for ten years has canceled the entire festival. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br />
</i></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>The spokesdemon for Satan said, "In all good conscience, Satan cannot allow people to gather in large numbers, despite the Governor's relaxation of stay-at-home orders. While he is not opposed to large numbers of people dying and the possibility of harvesting their souls, he feels that it would be counterproductive to let them die without doing his dark bidding on Earth for the maximum amount of time before they die. Therefore, Satan is canceling the Throwdown." </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Satan threw down his pen on his desk, raising a puff of smoke. He looked up at his advisors. "So you're telling me that we can't do the Throwdown this year?" Steam rose from his forehead.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Vice-Lord Penemue bowed his head and said, "Dark Lord, I think we have to cancel."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Satan pounded his fists on this desk. "Why?" he thundered. "I was all set for another match-up with that hillbilly Johnny. I've been practicing!" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The Vice-Lord cringed. "Sir, we just feel that the risks don't exceed the benefits." He pulled back the black drape over the easel beside him to reveal a graphic. The Dark Lord seemed to respond best to graphics rather than detailed briefings. He pointed at the graphic with the bone of an alligator arm, ending in a claw. "If you look at this, you'll see that the immediate deaths will far outpace the long-term benefits of people who come over to our side and do your work for the years they are living. They would recruit many more if they lived longer." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He revealed the next graphic. "As you'll see here, the souls we will benefit from with the Throwdown are considerably less than those that will join us and spread the Word." He pointed with the alligator claw. "Here are the addiction benefits we would reap if people don't die." He pointed again. "And here are the relationships destroyed by behavior at the Throwdown. We're talking divorce, affairs, you name it. All of these will be wiped out if people attend the Throwdown and die quickly, which the medical experts predict will happen if we allow it to go on as scheduled." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Satan put his hand on his forehead, between his horns. "Beelzebub Almighty." He looked up at Penemue and sighed. "So what's the financial damage?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Penemue said, "I'll let Advisor Mammon address that." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Satan said, "Fine. So what's the damage, Stefano?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">His chief economic demon, Mammon, cleared his throat. "Well, as you know, our investments in the stock market have already taken a hit." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Satan yelled, "Yes, I know!" A hot wind blew from his mouth and washed over Penemue and Mammon, singeing their eyebrows. "Tell me what we're losing on the festival!" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mammon said, "Seventy billion." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Satan's eyes bugged out and smoke billowed from his ears. "You have got to be kidding me." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"No, sir. Between the cost of the drugs we bought from the Mexican and Chinese drug cartels, and the security detail from the Yakuza...well, it all added up. Then there are all the girls. As you have repeatedly said, only the best quality when it comes to temptation. We didn't hold back this year and our losses will show it." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Satan said, "Well, fuck." He looked at the fireplace in the corner of his office and the kindling and wood set there burst into flames. The glow filled his office and flickered on the faces of his advisors. He sat back and crossed his arms and looked down petulantly at his desk. He had a copy of Bosch's "The Garden of Earthly Delights" underneath the glass on his desk and it usually cheered him up. Not today. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He looked up and stared at Penemue and Mammon, his eyes blazing. They both looked down. "Praise me." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">They both immediately fell to their knees. Penemue spoke first. "Thank you for your leadership, Dark Lord. Your guidance has been perfect. Your response to this has been perfect. Every phone call you've ever made has been perfect. YOU are perfect." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Satan waved his hand and Penemue immediately stopped talking. Satan had grown tired of his obsequiousness. He was still a loyal demon, but fucking hell, what an ass-kisser! He looked at Mammon. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mammon spoke up and said, "Your leadership is unparalleled in the history of Hell, my Lord. Your guidance has led us to the best economy Hell has ever had. It's only a matter of time before we'll put this behind us and move on to the next crisis." He realized what he had said and abruptly stopped talking. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Satan glowered at him but then smiled, his fangs flashing in the firelight. "Yes, of course. As long as I run Hell, there will be another crisis. And I'm not going anywhere soon." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">***</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This little story was inspired by the meme my friend Toni posted (seen above). Thank you for being my muse, Toni! Love you lots! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As much as I dislike this song and this band, there is still no better version of this song, in my opinion. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/wBjPAqmnvGA" width="560"></iframe></span><br />
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Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-50715256583925692912020-04-22T00:28:00.000-04:002020-04-22T00:28:10.021-04:00A melancholy lament<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i style="background-color: #cccccc;">Hey I guess you're lonely when</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i style="background-color: #cccccc;">I gave you all it took so then</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i style="background-color: #cccccc;">Stranger than it's ever been</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~~ "Godless" by The Dandy Warhols</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlDkiouBcWdmT7wHpR-BJZX9lvB_rnuhAaD7HYaJ_QHL4joYBHlVs0Qk3jjaTaGnNVj1J1J3PEYVZnhY_T954dnFt_JhWo1oqIOo_3-xgxnUhwF0yDXhWtX2vq79IwpLPbOs4ONZngnQ/s1600/Curbside+parking+DTSB+B%2526W.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="736" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlDkiouBcWdmT7wHpR-BJZX9lvB_rnuhAaD7HYaJ_QHL4joYBHlVs0Qk3jjaTaGnNVj1J1J3PEYVZnhY_T954dnFt_JhWo1oqIOo_3-xgxnUhwF0yDXhWtX2vq79IwpLPbOs4ONZngnQ/s400/Curbside+parking+DTSB+B%2526W.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We had an email yesterday from one of our favorite restaurants downtown, LaSalle Grill/LaSalle Kitchen and Tavern. (The Grill is downstairs and is the fancy place that has the wine dinners we occasionally go to and is considered one of the best restaurants in town. Its upstairs companion is more casual and we go there more often for dinners before a show or a drink after. They share the same kitchen, though.) They were offering a dinner for curbside pickup consisting of Wagyu beef burgers, their wonderful mac n cheese, a couple of other things, and a 6-pack of good beer. It was a great price and it was hard to say no, especially when we're doing what we can to support local restaurants. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our last night out for a meal was March 7th, when we went to dinner before a show, so we jumped on the deal. I just told Ken that I wanted to ride along when he went to pick it up. I've been out a couple of times to the pharmacy and the store, but I find that when I'm driving, I feel oddly on high alert, like someone is going to plow into me at any moment. Considering our rural area, it could even be a plow. So I feel very weird when out driving right now. I was looking forward to just riding along and seeing our beloved downtown. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I didn't anticipate how utterly sad and emotional it would make me feel. I mean, I really did not see that coming. I thought it was a chance to get out and enjoy a little ride on a nice sunny day. The first hint I had was seeing a fence along the main drag into downtown where someone had woven into the chainlink "Stay Strong USA" with a heart. That's when I started getting choked up. It only got worse as we got into downtown. There were still cars out and about but they were much sparser than an ordinary weeknight evening. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I saw so many familiar places and sites but everything was closed down. No one was bustling about going to dinner or grabbing a pint at Brew Werks and the marquee at the Morris was dark. Our usual haunts seemed...well, haunted. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By the time we pulled up at the LaSalle, I was feeling genuine anguish. Because I was the one curbside, I put my mask on. When our server came out with our food and put it in the back seat, I said, "Stay strong! We love you guys!" and I felt a tear fall out of my eye. Then another server brought out our 6-pack and put it on the floor of the backseat and I said, "Hang in there!" and we thanked him. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As we drove off, we went by Fiddler's Hearth and Madison Oyster Bar. No inside patrons. No one walking on the streets. Speaking of that, even the streets of South Michigan Street (what could be considered our small red-light district) were empty, and The Torch and Peaches were closed. I said, "Man, you know it's bad when even the strip clubs are closed!" </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What I thought would be a pleasant little drive downtown—and my goodness, I'd forgotten what a simple joy I felt as a kid when my parents would say, "Let's go for a drive!"—turned out to be something that made me feel really sad. It made me think of all the fun times we've had downtown, out for dinner, out to see a show, out to take visiting friends to show off our Riverlights or to have brunch with the Kansas City/Chicago Crew the morning after our annual house show, out to take in a South Bend Cubs game on a warm summer day, out for the Riverlights Music Festival, out for Art Beat, running into friends and family, sharing hugs and laughs...all the little things that make my life so enriched and joyful. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I miss them. I miss them all. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So tonight I'm going to allow myself to feel sad and mourn those things. I know they're not gone forever and I know we'll get back to enjoying all those things and more. We'll make new memories. But I don't know when that will happen. At the moment, things feel broken, and I feel like the repairs will be slow and sometimes painful. Will some of our favorite places survive? </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It pains me to say it, but I just don't know. I hope so. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/LduipA_XUJ8" width="560"></iframe></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br />
</span></span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-27703895489415412632020-04-16T23:49:00.000-04:002020-04-16T23:49:48.553-04:00Testing, testing...sibilance<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>It's like sand in one hand you can't hold for long</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Like scheming on a plan that goes all wrong</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>It's like fudge and caramel they're not the same</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>And it's a shame all you talk is game</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~~ "Just A Test" - by Beastie Boys</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR5czvldWRIhJCTv6e1iK8RJpdZtxD_cobwDPchR5apuIGy1On11mGb4TnJhQRE4RlazZqziT8XPfEwF9m2jgpJWFtWNFBqBU18tVouOTr71vM1nuPNV5rD1JFFJ2aU6ZdLgFg5GTp5Fg/s1600/Nurse+couple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR5czvldWRIhJCTv6e1iK8RJpdZtxD_cobwDPchR5apuIGy1On11mGb4TnJhQRE4RlazZqziT8XPfEwF9m2jgpJWFtWNFBqBU18tVouOTr71vM1nuPNV5rD1JFFJ2aU6ZdLgFg5GTp5Fg/s400/Nurse+couple.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A couple, both nurses, fighting together to help others</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Apparently, the Coronavirus Task Force has come up with a plan at the so-called "president's" behest called the Opening Up America Again plan. I would propose we call it the Opening Up America's Legs Again plan. Just relax and enjoy it, okay? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I shouldn't be too sarcastic, but hey, it's what I do. It's actually a fairly good plan, from what I can tell, that is based on decent medical input from the healthcare experts on the panel. (With all due respect—and I mean that quite literally—Mr. "President," fuck your gut feelings.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A friend asked me the other day if it was reasonable to reopen the economy as soon as the idiot wants it. I responded, "Absolutely not. Not yet." The plan hinges upon widespread testing, both diagnostic and serological, to see if people have an active infection or have had it and have antibodies to it. This is necessary. Neither test is widespread at the moment. The idiot loves to say that we've done more tests than any country in the world, but the truth is that we have tested about 1% of our population. That's ONE percent. People with mild symptoms still cannot get tested.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We are not at the capacity for testing that we need. We are short of test kits, reagents, instruments, and personnel to do the tests. We are short of Personal Protective Equipment that protects all healthcare workers. We are even short of the swabs and transport media with which the specimen is taken. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Of course, we all know that we need to get people back to work. This is devastating for millions of people, in our own country and around the world. But at what price when it comes to mortality? We've got people like Indiana representative (not mine, thank science) Trey Hollingsworth and notorious quack Dr. Oz talking about acceptable levels of mortality...that it's okay to get people back to work and kids back to school if the death rate from the premature opening stays at a certain low percentage. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">How utterly vile. (Hey, Dr. Oz...you might want to revisit the Hippocratic Oath you took. Fucker.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">One of the best journalists I've seen lately writing on the pandemic is the science writer for <i>The Atlantic</i>, Ed Yong. Be sure to read his article "<a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2020/04/pandemic-summer-coronavirus-reopening-back-normal/609940/" target="_blank">Our Pandemic Summer</a>," in which he writes about the steps that need to be taken in order to get us up and running again. Short answer: things are going to be weird for some time. We're talking months, if not years. Widespread testing is the first step and we simply don't have that yet. We just don't. Large crowds will be verboten for some time, at least until we get a vaccine. We need to understand this reality because it is ours and reality is non-negotiable. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Then we've got idiots in Michigan—just a few miles away from us, and with one of the highest case rates in the country—bitching about travel restrictions and gathering to protest their Governor's draconian edicts. Gathering with their guns and no masks and I seriously hope they all infect each other. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We are nowhere near the point we need to be with testing. Get ready for a weird summer and more cases in the fall. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Reality.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QpCyigmaFuU" width="560"></iframe></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-74094823999471643782020-04-14T00:39:00.000-04:002020-04-14T00:39:47.467-04:00Why I watch<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Now, you chicks do agree</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>That this ain't the way love's supposed to be</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Let me hear, let me hear you say yeah, yeah</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Can I get a witness?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~~ "Can I Get A Witness" by Holland, Dozier, and Holland</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSstsDzLBoiB-wVusNi8nFFeiVjx_zVT8AbJyovN9kjzYCBW31_9Y0dGkXgA3W59XJVAqn4lWbaTOUX9qmxS57SvuLKVn28o3Rl9L0pOrCgTvU0FBOCLVzAFhxyxyRv_9_a_uifoltVXw/s1600/Watching+horror+movies+vintage.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="366" data-original-width="312" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSstsDzLBoiB-wVusNi8nFFeiVjx_zVT8AbJyovN9kjzYCBW31_9Y0dGkXgA3W59XJVAqn4lWbaTOUX9qmxS57SvuLKVn28o3Rl9L0pOrCgTvU0FBOCLVzAFhxyxyRv_9_a_uifoltVXw/s320/Watching+horror+movies+vintage.JPG" width="272" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I've been watching the daily press briefings when possible and to be honest, that is most days now. It's rare for me to miss one. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I've had numerous friends ask me how I can subject myself to it. How I can "torment" myself. How I can handle it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I've had more friends tell me that they count on me to provide commentary because they just can't stand to watch it. I am happy to take on that mantle because of my answer to the first question: I am bearing witness. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Yeah, It raises my blood pressure and yeah, it makes me crazy for a while...but we are experiencing this right here, right now, and I want to be able to say that I witnessed virtually every moment of this so-called "president" and his utter failure to handle this crisis.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I want to say that I heard him say, "I bear no responsibility." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I want to say that I listened as he blamed everyone from Barack Obama to the World Health Organization to the individual states. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I want to say that I watched as he chastised journalists for not praising him for a job well done. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This has never been more true than today, as I watched him completely melt down as he was grilled by reporters about his response and lashed out at them for daring to question him. As I write this, it happened five or so hours ago and I am still gobsmacked by his unhinged performance. This person is not well. I know it's been said before, but if one of our relatives behaved in this manner, we'd be having a family conference to discuss what is going on and what our options might be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And we're talking about the leader of the free world. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This is not normal. This isn't within spitting distance of normal. This is a full-on batshit DEFCON-1 level of NOT NORMAL. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As upsetting as it can be, I'm going to watch every fucking minute of it. I'm not melting down. I'm not losing my shit. (That would be him, not me.) I am not subjecting myself nor am I tormenting myself. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am watching. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EqiOAzzcC1Q" width="560"></iframe><br />
</span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-49797210656818778812020-04-07T20:30:00.000-04:002020-04-07T20:30:07.531-04:00My Sanctuary<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Times are tough, frustration</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Need relief, medication</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Gone too far, intoxication</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Fight the urge, of temptation</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Sanctuary</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>It's much too close, contamination</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Love and pain, and deviation</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~~ "Sanctuary" by The J. Geils Band</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiamL9NDUcB_99NtLM8fIJRh1aOTdM4fNpoUVAagO5NQAD8WymLz9n6_bPCPZ4qv_jcivKEVNY3Wl3BHdsfE5wucF97cZDI1233b-e2xnwZzfAdBvjvKsOdbN7HoFwL6cYzwf9ItKWp17c/s1600/Nutwood+Early+June.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="595" data-original-width="800" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiamL9NDUcB_99NtLM8fIJRh1aOTdM4fNpoUVAagO5NQAD8WymLz9n6_bPCPZ4qv_jcivKEVNY3Wl3BHdsfE5wucF97cZDI1233b-e2xnwZzfAdBvjvKsOdbN7HoFwL6cYzwf9ItKWp17c/s400/Nutwood+Early+June.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The shape of Nutwood to come</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Some of you may know that the name of this blog comes from what we named our place: Nutwood Junction. Long story short, it got its name because this used to be a little unincorporated town called Nutwood, and a railroad ran through here. We still own half of the railroad bed (the railroad has long been out of commission and the rails and ties torn up), and the property across the road was the site of a small railroad depot. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Anyway, I have always called this place "my sanctuary." When I was working, I could hardly wait to get home, stripping off my scrubs as soon as I got in the door and changing into comfy clothes, and that was never more so than during nice weather. I'd head out to the deck immediately to read the mail, get some fresh air, and just take in some nature. We have eleven acres, including a few small ponds, wetlands, and woods, and a multitude of wildlife and birds. Even on my darkest days, it renews my soul. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That is truer than ever at the moment. The weather will get colder this weekend (that's why I never plant anything until mid-May, at the earliest) but today felt like summer was just around the corner. It got up to the mid-70s and I was able to open several windows and enjoy some fresh air. I spent a little time out on the deck sweeping it off, getting the bird feeders filled, and repairing a favorite bamboo wood chime. (Please ignore the rubber band. That was the easiest way to fix it!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We had a big thunderstorm last night (and will probably have another one this evening) and that has really started waking things up. The trees are budding and I'm seeing some sprouts of green out front and out in the woods. It's only a matter of time before we are in full foliage. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The world is just all kinds of fucked up right now (and none more so than this current administration) but seeing our place come back to life made me feel joyful and maybe even a little hopeful. Long after we're gone, nature will renew itself (unless we manage to fuck that up, too, and the current administration says, "Hold my beer"), and will keep on keeping on. She'd probably be better off without us. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I honestly don't know what will happen. I worry. I worry a lot, Bevvie! (Bonus points to anyone who gets that reference.) I worry about Ken, I worry about my Mom and my sisters, I worry about Shane and Matt, I worry about our friends, I worry about friends I've never met, I worry about our local artists and musicians and restaurants...and I worry about pretty much everyone in the goddamn world. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But today, the windows are open, the frogs are peeping in the ponds, I'm barefoot, and you know what? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'll take it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/bOjnI_jG8h0" width="560"></iframe> </span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-83491855264240237532020-04-04T02:06:00.000-04:002020-04-04T02:06:40.854-04:00The Week After the Canceled Nuptials<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi320gBwVc2yNrdAG5C1WoTnIAYgd7up1Skob-JZUtlKCIwU3jBxh7a71SnDhfGKrCW03Wf8l2ya96mJkaeiF7uSzAF5sJO6IMF2kp20LTnvbPm2uMeQnMVT1FMO170LgKjZqBnZhoFmdI/s1600/The+nerve+comic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="731" data-original-width="591" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi320gBwVc2yNrdAG5C1WoTnIAYgd7up1Skob-JZUtlKCIwU3jBxh7a71SnDhfGKrCW03Wf8l2ya96mJkaeiF7uSzAF5sJO6IMF2kp20LTnvbPm2uMeQnMVT1FMO170LgKjZqBnZhoFmdI/s400/The+nerve+comic.jpg" width="322" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Gino pulled up to Leah's apartment building. He put the car in park and turned to her. "Here we are." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She smiled at him. "Thanks for a fun evening, Gino." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"The pleasure was mine." He leaned over to kiss her and to his credit, he didn't go overboard on the tongue or anything. It was her first date after ditching Luke on their wedding day a week ago and she was in no big hurry to start something new just yet. Gino said, "Sit tight," and got out and came around to the passenger side. He opened the door and held a hand out to her, and helped her out of the car. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">They stood on the sidewalk and he gave her another little kiss. He touched her leg and said, "Nice stockings, by the way." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Leah laughed. "Thank you." Since she'd broken it off with Luke, she'd been feeling a little more adventurous. She'd met Gino in the coffee shop earlier in the week and when he asked her out, she had said yes. She'd decided to wear an LBD and fishnet stockings on their date tonight, and she was glad she did. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Gino said, "No...thank <i>you</i>." He put his forehead on hers and said, "Can I see you again?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"I'd like that." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He smiled. "Great! I'll call you this week, okay?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Sounds good. Good night, Gino." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Good night." He watched her get into the building safely before getting into the car and speeding off, giving her a little honk on the horn as he did so. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She waved and went into the lobby. She decided to take the stairs rather than the elevator and as she walked slowly up to her apartment, she thought about the previous week. Ditching Luke had been the best thing she'd ever done. She felt like her own person again. Last night, she'd gone to Happy Hour with her friend Raquel who had told her that she was like a different person. She'd said, "Glad you ditched him. He was a total dick. You know that, right?" Leah had said, "I do now!" They'd both laughed and ordered another round. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Leah made it up to her fourth-floor apartment and unlocked the door. She went inside, looking around to make sure everything was cool, once again appreciating the little home she'd made for herself. She was fortunate that her place hadn't been leased out and she was able to re-up after she'd split with Luke. She had a job, she had an apartment, she had a car, and so what if she no longer had a fiancé? She was better off on her own. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She kicked off her ankle boots and grabbed a beer from the fridge. She headed into her bedroom and sat down on the bed. She peeled off her tights and flung them towards the hamper, then pulled her dress over her head and off of her. It ended up fairly close to the tights. She put on a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt and grabbed her beer and headed back to the living room. She turned on the TV and went into the kitchen to grab a snack. Gino had taken her out to dinner, but that was a few hours ago and she'd danced most of that off. She needed a little something. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As she waited for her bag of popcorn to finish in the microwave, she thought that if Gino asked her out next week, she was pretty sure of the "little something" she needed. She said to no one in particular, "Based on our slow dances tonight, it's not so little," and then she cracked up. She'd have to tell Raquel that one when they talked this week. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The microwave beeped and she grabbed the bag out of the microwave and dumped the popcorn into a bowl. She liked to be fancy like that, rather than eating out of the bag. She snickered to herself and went out to the couch. She settled back and clicked around until she found something mindless to watch. She munched on her popcorn and felt genuinely content and happy. What would her life have been like if she'd actually said "I do" last weekend? She'd probably be fluffing Luke right now so he could get hard enough to procreate with her. She snorted again and said, "What a fucking dick you were." She had talked to herself often this past week but she didn't care. She was free. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She heard a rattling at her door and stopped munching the popcorn for a moment to listen. Probably the guys next door coming back from a party and trying to get into the wrong apartment. It wouldn't be the first time. When she heard the lock disengage and the door ease open, she jumped up off of the couch, the bowl of popcorn falling to the floor, popcorn flying everywhere. She reached into the space between the couch and the end table and grabbed her baseball bat. You didn't live on your own without some kind of weapon, and she could swing that bat if she needed to. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The back of the living room was in shadows and she stepped back into them. She had her cell phone and punched in 911. She laid her phone quietly on the end table and watched the hallway to see who might appear. She hoped whoever it was would go away, that maybe the TV being on would make the person realize that someone was home and they would leave. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She watched from the shadows as someone emerged into the light of the living room from the dark hallway. It wasn't a stranger. It was Luke. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She stepped out of the dark and said, "What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get in?" She was gratified to see him jump like a startled cat. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He quickly regained his composure. "I'm here because you're my fiancée. And I got in because I still have a key." He held it up and jangled it. "Remember?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She gave herself a mental kick in the ass. Why hadn't she thought to get the key from him? She regained her composure, too. "I'm not your fiancée anymore. Remember?" She put a nice sarcastic spin on that last word. "Get out of my apartment, Luke." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He stepped closer to her. "No." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She gripped the baseball bat tighter. "Get. The fuck. Out." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He laughed. "What are you going to do? Hit me with that?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Don't tempt me." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He didn't say anything. He just looked at her. "Look at you." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"What?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Tight t-shirt. No bra. You look like you're just asking for it."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She rolled her eyes. "That's right, Luke. I'm lounging around in the privacy of my own apartment, not wearing a bra, 'asking for it.' If I'm asking for anything, it's a little comfort and some fucking peace and quiet!" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Quite a mouth on you." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Fuck off." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He stepped closer to her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She raised the baseball bat a little higher. "I'm serious, Luke. Get out. This is my place. Not yours. I gave your engagement ring back, remember? In fact, I left the dress with you, too. By the way, have you worn it yet?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">His eyes narrowed. "Shut your whore mouth." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Despite knowing him and how he was, that startled her a bit. She was starting to realize that he was more than a little off. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He wasn't done. "I saw you with your boyfriend tonight. In your whore clothes. How was your night of drinking and dancing? And...fornicating?" He spat out the last word. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She knew it was probably a bad idea but she couldn't help it. She burst into laughter. "Fornicating? Seriously? It was my first date with him. What do you think I am? Oh, that's right. A whore. His name is Gino, by the way. And if I have a second date with him, yeah, we'll probably <i>fornicate</i>. In fact, we'll probably fornicate all fucking night!" She laughed again. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Luke clenched his fists and took another step towards her. "Jezebel." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Leah put on a puzzled face and pointed at herself. "Me? No. LEAH." She laughed again. She saw that every time she laughed, he got more and more pissed off, but she couldn't help it. A couple of years of pent-up rage and oppression were finally coming out and for her, it was coming out in laughter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As she was laughing, he moved towards her lightning-fast and grabbed her. The baseball bat dropped to the floor and she struggled with him. He spun her around and she managed to break free and run to the kitchen. He ran after her and she tried to paw through the drawers to find some sort of weapon. His eyes weren't normal and she saw nothing in there of the man she had almost married. He was gone. He slapped at her hands and tried to punch her. She managed to duck in time to avoid one to the jaw, but he connected with her left shoulder and her arm went slightly numb. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She fell against the wall, a little "oof" escaping her, and she realized that if she didn't do something, he was going to kill her. He'd probably rape her first. Or maybe he'd kill her <i>then </i>rape her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That wasn't going to happen. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As he wrapped his hands around her throat and pushed her against the wall—she was disgusted but not surprised to realize that he had a raging hardon—she summoned every ounce of strength and shoved against him, just enough to get him off-balance. In the split-second she had, she grabbed her cast-iron Dutch oven off of the stovetop, the lid falling to the floor with a loud clang. She gripped the bowl of it by the handle and swung it with all her might towards his head. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She connected and he went down like a ton of bricks. She didn't think she'd hit him that hard but on the way down, his head hit the corner of the countertop, and when he fell to the floor, his head hit with a definite 'splat' sound. She looked down at him and watched the spreading pool of blood under his head. She was gasping for breath, and when the door burst in and a couple of police came in, she looked up at them. They held their guns on her and yelled, "Drop it!" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She dropped the Dutch oven and it fell right on Luke's head, with another 'splat.'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She put her hands up and said, "No...I...I called you. He attacked me." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The cops holstered their guns and the taller one said, "We know. It's okay. Just...step away, okay?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She did. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The tall cop said, "Are you okay?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She nodded. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"We're going to have to take you down to get a statement, okay? And...well, we'll need a forensic crew to come in here. But it's pretty obvious what happened. We heard everything on the phone call." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She nodded again and walked to the door. The cop held her back. "Wait. Do you want some socks and shoes? Maybe a jacket?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She looked down at herself and said, "Oh yeah." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She walked to her bedroom and got those things as the cops waited for her. As they walked her out of her apartment, the forensic team was on its way in, and she nodded at them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As she walked down the hallway, seeing all the neighbors peeking out of their doorways, she wondered if Gino was going to call her this week and if she'd see him this weekend. She hoped so. She thought about how much she'd tell him about this and decided to just play it by ear. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She straightened up and tossed her hair back. Her kitchen floor needed a good mopping, anyway, and now it was going to get a professional cleaning. Maybe she'd invite Gino back to her place next weekend. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She smiled. Yes, she liked that idea. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">**Note** This is for my friend Raquel who wanted a little more murder and mayhem. I hope this does the trick, my dear friend! </span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-6457640607113128182020-04-03T03:29:00.000-04:002020-04-03T03:29:30.014-04:00The Upcoming Nuptials<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7DsBrU-o9ibWHoZb6z-W3k1DkmnN5RayHY_WjKZPJF_BOf5pqRNKT5-H2Z1J8QoWj5DmBTTLSoY519gqb6E10Cpkjy7-khYwRgA0Et3-OUXzW05eutZGuwR1s68DFirZk8i1-Pdw4rLU/s1600/Christian+marriage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="450" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7DsBrU-o9ibWHoZb6z-W3k1DkmnN5RayHY_WjKZPJF_BOf5pqRNKT5-H2Z1J8QoWj5DmBTTLSoY519gqb6E10Cpkjy7-khYwRgA0Et3-OUXzW05eutZGuwR1s68DFirZk8i1-Pdw4rLU/s400/Christian+marriage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Luke took Leah's hand and said, "Are you ready to do this tomorrow?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She gazed up at him adoringly and said, "I am so ready!" She grabbed him by the belt loops and pulled his hips toward hers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Luke held his hands up. "Whoa, whoa! What are you doing?" He pushed her away from him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She stumbled back a bit and looked at him, then looked down. "I'm sorry." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He brushed his shirt with his hands like he was brushing her off of him. "Leah, come on. You know we can't do anything before we're married! Goodness, gracious." He turned away from her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She put her hand on his shoulder. "You're right. I'm so sorry." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He shrugged her hand off of him, and she stepped back. He took a breath and turned back to her with a smile. "I'm sorry, darling." He took hold of her upper arms and pulled him to her. "I've waited so long. Tomorrow is the night." She felt him against her and then he was pushing her away from him. "Not tonight. You need to go." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Can't we just...I don't know...cuddle on the couch?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"No! You need to go!" He saw the look on her face and said, "I'm sorry, my dear." He kissed her on the forehead. "I just...you need to go." He grabbed her shoulders and said, "You know how much I look forward to our wedding night. But it would be a sin to do anything before tomorrow. You know how I feel." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Leah nodded. "Of course." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He kissed her on the forehead again and turned her around and pointed her to the door of his apartment. "Off you go." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She turned back to him. "Aren't you going to take me home?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"I can't. I need to get up early for a phone call. I can call you an Uber, though. Okay?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She nodded. Was this really what she was signing up for? She pushed the thought aside. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He tapped at his phone and said, "There you go! They should be here in five minutes. And I've got some freebies, so I'm paying for it! Don't say I never did anything for you!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She gave him a wan smile and murmured, "Thank you." She walked to the door and turned and said, "Good night, Luke." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He kissed her forehead. "Good night!" He nudged her out the door. "Sleep tight!" He waved his fingers at her before he closed the door. "See you tomorrow! Our wedding day!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She smiled. "Yes." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Are you excited?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Of course." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"And tomorrow night...well, it will be our wedding night." He wiggled his eyebrows at her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She smiled again and said, "Yes. Good night, Luke." She turned and walked down the hallway and heard his door close behind her. She leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. Was this really the right thing to do? She was starting to have some serious doubts. It was okay. He was a godly man. Her parents loved him and gave their full approval. She walked down the stairs and to the sidewalk. Her Uber was there and she got in and settled back as the driver took her to her apartment. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Her lease was up in a week. She'd be moving in with Luke. As she got out of the car, she tipped the driver a fiver and went up the stairs to her apartment. She unlocked the door and looked around her place. She'd lived here for five years, and it had been a good home. She'd be sorry to say goodbye to it, but she had already started moving things over to Luke's apartment. She closed the door behind her and went to her bedroom. Luke had never been in here. He said that "It wasn't the Christianly thing to do" to stay with her. She threw her purse down on the bed. It wasn't like she'd told him he had to have sex with her. She'd just asked him to stay the night with her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Leah realized that as she undressed, she was throwing her clothes into the laundry bin. Probably a little harder than warranted. She ran her hands through her hair. She was wide awake and after wrapping her robe around her, she walked out to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. Luke didn't drink and didn't approve of her drinking. She snorted as she popped the top on the beer and drank half of it down. She grabbed another one and took it out to the living room. She sat back on the couch and looked at her wedding dress hanging in the corner. It was very demure, with a high collar and long sleeves. She had been partial to the strapless one, but when she told Luke about it, he had given her an emphatic no. "My mother will be there!" he had said. So she hadn't chosen the strapless gown that she loved. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She stared out the window, looking at the lights of the city. She sat quietly and finished both beers, and then went to bed. Tomorrow was her wedding day, after all. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">***</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She woke up the next morning and looked at the clock. She'd overslept. On her wedding day. She thought to herself, "You're a terrible wife and you aren't even married yet" and she snorted laughter. She sat up. It was her wedding day. So why wasn't she excited? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She picked it up and saw that it was a text message from Luke. He'd sent several, asking where she was. She texted that she was on her way and then headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. She put on some makeup, realizing that she wasn't going to be as glamorous as expected, and threw on some sweats. She grabbed her wedding dress and rushed down the stairs, and threw the dress into the back of her Mini. She sped off to the church. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She pulled up and grabbed her dress from the back of the car and went inside. The pastor was already there and gave her a look when he saw her sweats. She ignored it and went into the dressing room. Her maid of honor, Sharon, was already there and dressed. "Leah! Where have you been?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Leah shook her head. "I overslept." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sharon looked at her. "On your wedding day? Okay." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Leah didn't look up. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sharon said, "Hey, you aren't dressed yet, so it's okay for someone to say hello to you!" She went to the door and yelled down the hallway. Leah heard steps and then saw Luke. He stepped into the room and the first thing he said was, "Why aren't you dressed yet?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Leah looked at him. She turned to Sharon and said, "I need a moment with my fiancé." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sharon said, "Sure!" and went out into the hallway. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Luke stepped close to her and grabbed her by her upper arms. "Seriously, Leah. Why aren't you dressed yet? People will be here soon! And what is up with your makeup?" He reached a hand up to her face and touched it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She slapped his hand away and he stepped back. She saw the dark look on his face and she stepped back, too. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"How dare you treat me that way?" He stepped closer to her. Her back was against the wall, so she couldn't go anywhere. He pushed against her, grinding his hips against hers. "You'll be mine tonight. Taketh my staff, woman." He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his crotch. He was already hard, and she thought back to all the times in her apartment and in his, when he had brought her to the brink but then had talked about how it would be a sin. She thought about how he'd cried when he'd pulled away from her as if the most natural thing in the world was shameful. She thought about his disapproval of her revealing dresses when they had first started going out and how he said that the people at church would disapprove. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She thought about all these things and then she looked at her wedding dress hanging in the corner. She looked at the lace, the high collar, the long sleeves. She thought about the dress she had wanted and that Luke had told her was inappropriate. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She looked him in the eye, put her hands on his shoulders, and gave him a mighty shove. He stumbled back and looked at her in shock. He said, "What are you doing?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Leah hitched her sweatpants up, pulled her sweatshirt down, and said, "I'm not marrying you." She pulled the engagement ring off of her finger and threw it at him. "In fact, I want nothing to do with you, ever again." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Luke stared at her. "You're nuts." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Leah laughed. "Maybe. But I am <i>not </i>stupid." She grabbed her purse and headed towards the door. She looked up at the wedding dress in the corner. "That's your dress. Do with it what you want. Wear it in a drag ball, for all I care. It's on your credit card." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She smiled as she walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-5866104090695786062020-03-31T01:13:00.000-04:002020-03-31T01:13:34.793-04:00Your last normal day<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>It's just another day, there's murder in the air</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>It drags me when I walk, I smell it everywhere</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>It's just another day where people cling to light</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>To drive away the fear that comes with every night</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~~ "Just Another Day" by Oingo Boingo</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMBP_Bbc3lOpvEOSl_mgOQv_Zram-gi9wUOvAUTQ_mGgbKl8ajhvBhzyLGhyphenhyphenma4hS8Jpq__uGV-PaEatMRnEhlzWFxxrmB7MCsQb5qMMvjgZQcNbJbT43cpokVUPZHNMFYz1JSx-M6dY/s1600/Just+a+normal+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="490" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMBP_Bbc3lOpvEOSl_mgOQv_Zram-gi9wUOvAUTQ_mGgbKl8ajhvBhzyLGhyphenhyphenma4hS8Jpq__uGV-PaEatMRnEhlzWFxxrmB7MCsQb5qMMvjgZQcNbJbT43cpokVUPZHNMFYz1JSx-M6dY/s320/Just+a+normal+day.jpg" width="305" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In one of the many newsletters I read every day, the author posed an interesting question that someone had posed to him: when was your last normal day?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I thought about it and it didn't take me long to come up with the answer: March 7th. I had to pull up the calendar to make sure that was right because that was over three weeks ago! But yes, it was correct. Ken and I went downtown and met Shane and Matt at one of our favorite places, Woochi, for some Asian fusion cuisine. We had wonderful meals (as always), we had warm sake (also as always), and we had fun chatting about this and that. Then we walked down to the Morris and enjoyed a wonderful show, <i>The Lion King</i>. After the show, we had a drink at WXYZ Bar and talked about how much we enjoyed the show, and it was a very enjoyable evening. We walked back to our cars and parted ways with hugs all around. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Shit, thinking about all that makes me want to cry. It seems like forever ago. I miss our nights out and I miss Shane and Matt. I miss my sisters and I miss my Mom. I miss seeing friends out and about and miss the buzz of a crowd enjoying a show. When I think about it, it's kind of dumb because I don't mind being at home and am actually quite content here. Even as introverted as I am, I still need an occasional boost from being around dear friends and family. It's hard to realize that we can't have that for a while. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I went out to the grocery store after that but there was already plenty of buzz about social isolation and being careful. About a week after, we were set to have a fundraiser for the non-profit at one of our local favorites, South Bend Brew Werks. On the morning of the fundraiser, Ken got an email from the owner, Steve, who said that they were closing at noon and the fundraiser was off. That's when we knew shit was going to get real. I went to the store again the day after that and that was the last time I had been out until today. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I had to go to pick up a prescription so decided to stock up for the long haul. I'm already well-stocked, but I wanted to get lots of fresh produce and will work on using that up. I'm sure I'll need to go out again at some point, but it will be a while. Being at the store today was a very strange experience. I felt very anxious. I felt in a hurry. I felt almost claustrophobic every time someone got a little too near. The stores weren't crowded and everyone behaved themselves but I still felt weirded out. I had no desire to dawdle and my main goal was to get what I needed and get out. The roads and parking lots weren't deserted, by any means, and I saw no stark images of desolation like the photos we're seeing of places like Times Square and Bourbon Street...usually bustling places that are now deserted. I'm sure our downtown area is a little more desolate because so many of those establishments are now shuttered. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Usually, I enjoy being out in my Mustang, blasting some fun music, hearing that engine roar...today I felt like a little old lady, keeping my eye out for other cars more than usual, listening to our local NPR station as our Governor had a conference call with people around the state. I felt like I was paranoid and on high alert. Like danger was just around the corner! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That's a little overly dramatic...but not by much. It was surreal. I posted a little about it on Facebook after I got home and I was both heartened and dismayed to see that others had had that same feeling when they had to go out. It was heartening because it was good to know that I wasn't alone in my feelings, but it was also dismaying to see that others are experiencing those same feelings. A couple of dear friends even said that they cried after they got home. That just broke my heart. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This is anxiety-inducing for everyone. So please, <i>please </i>don't hesitate to reach out to others for support. Hit me up anytime if you need an ear. I'm not an endless wellspring of either strength or information but I will do my level best to listen and do what I can to answer your questions or just provide a word of encouragement. And believe me, there may come a time when I ask for encouragement myself. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This is going to be weird for a while and we're going to start seeing some pretty grim numbers in the next couple of weeks. There is no getting around that. That kind of thing is out of our control. What we <i>can </i>control is our response. Will we treat others with kindness or hatred? Will we let fear control us or will we temper our fear with reliable information and science? Will we grasp desperately at nonsensical conspiracy theories or will we use our brains and THINK? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I know what I plan on doing—and part of dealing with this is most definitely thinking things through and planning—and I hope you know what to do, too. Peace, love, rock & roll, and handwashing! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nQusU0g9H-E" width="560"></iframe></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736448434152217111.post-14611705677680339742020-03-27T20:32:00.001-04:002020-03-27T20:32:19.549-04:00May you live in interesting times<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>And school's out early and soon we'll be learning</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>And the lesson today is how to die</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~~ "I Don't Like Mondays" by The Boomtown Rats</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5KH-ddn9FOtQsPRd9MRNsv8nx_DN6mUayJPo5Wf0D4f3hFn4fdF75pBtLCuMMSb4gQ4dBoREAhGamE8qyngY6AZZnK0lzzs9gMKx-7DNLHI_sw-bCUQhvCf-l0YsZVPm1xncCE-VwnNo/s1600/Boomtown+Rats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5KH-ddn9FOtQsPRd9MRNsv8nx_DN6mUayJPo5Wf0D4f3hFn4fdF75pBtLCuMMSb4gQ4dBoREAhGamE8qyngY6AZZnK0lzzs9gMKx-7DNLHI_sw-bCUQhvCf-l0YsZVPm1xncCE-VwnNo/s400/Boomtown+Rats.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So '80s, so wonderful!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Man, that's dark, isn't it? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's hard to find a lot of cheer in the world right now. Ken and I still find the humor in things and still have plenty of laughs, but fuck, things are grim right now. Even the biggest sense of humor in the world—and we both have very healthy ones—is taxed at times. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I find myself very emotional lately. (Ken will be like, "What's new?" when he reads this.) Yes, I am usually that way but I find myself losing it to things like songs (like the one I'm posting here) but more so to watching videos from hospitals in Italy and around the world as they try to handle this outbreak. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">[Intermission]</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I started writing this last night and found that I just didn't have the stomach to finish it. I felt very disheartened. I felt better today and I'm not in despair or anything. But <i>shit</i>, this is messed up, man. It is dismaying to hear reports of the lack of equipment both on the news and from friends and family. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And I can't even talk about the so-called "president's" response to it all. He's either preening about his beautiful, amazing response to this or whining about how certain Governors aren't kissing his ass enough. I'm just done with that for the night. He is unfit. That is all I'll say about it for the moment. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I've been thinking about it and about how I feel so emotional at certain times. I'm not kidding, I'll listen to a song and end up with tears running down my face. I'm always kind of bad that way, but I'm a little off the rails right now. I've decided to be okay with that and just accept it. We're all plenty scared right now and worried about people. It's a natural reaction. It's okay to feel deep emotions. In the face of dire situations, I can shut it all down and let my rational brain take over. I can be quite stoic and not lose my shit when all around me are losing theirs. While we're staying at home and watching this all unfold, I give myself full permission to get as weepy as I want. It's not constant...it's just certain things hitting me at certain points. (I'm looking at you, "Star Trek: Picard"!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I've had friends message me asking how we're doing and we try to encourage each other. Do this, as often as possible. Reach out to people and if you need a little encouragement, don't hesitate to reach out to others. We're all dealing with this and we're all weirded out and wondering what's going to happen. Sometimes hearing a simple word of love and friendship can do a lot to make us feel better. Dick jokes are always funny, too! The world could use more dick jokes right now. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Stay engaged, stay connected, and yeah, there's probably a dick joke in there somewhere. Grab it! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Life, I mean. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/FcZW0GFLSdw" width="560"></iframe></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
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</span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149068921334726430noreply@blogger.com2