We Gather Together

Yes, it's Thanksgiving. I'm thankful I've recovered enough from my pseudo-tuberculosis (exagerration, just a bad cough) that I can legitimately go give platelets this morning (yup, they're open -- apparently people try to kill themselves on the highway enough over this holiday, apparently in a desperate attempt to avoid turkey or something like that, that blood products are in terribly short supply) and then have a lovely dinner with the estimable Innana.

I'm thankful that complete and utter strangers in New England and Florida gave blood, red blood cells, platelets, and other blood products in large enough quantities that the Second Mate had a pretty good quality of life for his last six months even though his bone marrow was no longer producing any blood cells.

I'm thankful that His Eminence in Australia helped with the Thalidomide when the U.S. simply didn't supply medicine that Second Mate needed to try. Second Mate didn't get the Thalidomide, but it meant a lot to him and FoilMormor that I was willing to harass (sorry, Your Eminence) perfectly innocent medical professionals on other continents to try and help him. Second Mate helped me so much in the last few years: it was nice to be able to try and help him.

I'm thankful that the Second Mate had time to say his goodbyes, and died in a hospice rather than a hospital.

I'm thankful that my girls are healthy and continuing their quest for global domination. From a colleague of Innana's they have products from some military vendor with the words: "Operation Rapid Dominance." Works for me.

I'm thankful that I will be seeing my mother, FoilMormor in less than a month. I'll also get to see NSLOS, LOS, my nephew, Nuclear Grammy, and I hope, a few other family members during my visit.

I'm thankful that the visit will be a two week visit, with enough time to see people.

I'm thankful that while Innana's father has been ill (in his 80s, no suprise, but still sad and hard to deal with) she has been able to take care of all the necessary logistics (getting the power of attorney, the living will, the advance health directive, etc.) that this 80-year old man who has been hospitalized several times in the last decade and his wife had neglected to do.*

I'm thankful that Innana has stood up to her stepmother's insanity (the stepmother seems to think taking care of necessary legal documents is a usurpation of her authority -- which she hasn't exercised since the man was hospitalized in the mid-1990s, but hey) and did what needed to be done (must have been the PowerMilk Biscuits, thank you Prairie Home Companion).

I'm thankful my country has a President-Elect who isn't a fucking nitwit and who can actually speak English (and from watching Univision as well, apparently Spanish as well).

I'm thankful for my family, my friends, and my health.

I'm thankful for my job, the roof over my head, food on the table, and generally having the necessities of life.

I'm thankful that even though most luxuries are out of my reach with the help of all the freebies in the greater DC area, the public library, an ability to cook, to knit, to play music, to hike, to bike, and to find enjoyment whereever (and the increasing ability of my daughters to do the same), my life doesn't feel constrained at all, despite the bag lunches.

Life seems good now. Since happiness is ephemeral, I'm focused on enjoying it now.

*If you care about the people who will clean up after you at all, take care of the goddamn paperwork. Really.

The Kindness of Strangers

I am resting up from a serious lung ailment/horrific cough so as to be full-force in giving thanks tomorrow, and Friday night, coughing up a lung on the Metro (annoying everyone in the car, but there wasn't much I could do -- I needed to get home to bed -- I was coughing into my handkerchief and the wall, but still, it must have been unpleasant for everyone around me) the woman sitting next to me gave me a bottle of water and a lifesaver. Sure, I could have gotten fined for drinking the water, but otherwise, the rest of my carmates were going to throw me off the train or strangle me. So thank you, kind woman. This sort of thing is happening a lot lately (do I look especially pathetic?) -- the woman patted my hand and said "This will help."

A very dapper guy who works at the Phillips Collection saw me looking at the poster for the new Christo exhibit, and he told me it was good, when the next free museum day is (how he new I wasn't going to pay for admittance, I don't have a clue, but thank you, although I've forgotten the day), and said he thought I would like it. I'm not one of your cool-looking arty types. I'm a middle-aged woman who's morning grooming technique includes bathing and combing my hair, and that's about it, and least on the mornings the girls are with me. So I don't think I was a marketing target or someone who would be expected to bring coolness and buzz to the exhibit, but I was interested, and it was nice to be invited out of expected interest.

A young midwestern x-ray technologist started up a conversation about my knitting and then we progressed to growing up in Michigan (me for a few years, her for all her life), surviving divorce, and life in DC. In a 15 minute Metro ride. I said, at the end, "This is unusual -- we're both supposed to avoid eye contact." She said, "No, we're from the Midwest. Take care." Smiled, and got off the train leaving me smiling.

I'm still smiling as I think about all that.

Crash and Burn

How do kids fall asleep so quickly? One moment, DestructoGirl is fighting bedtime with every ounce of strength she possesses (she's strong, that's a lot of ounces). Then TigerGrrl and I take turns singing sleepy songs and reading sleepy stories (the great magnum opus Goodnight Gorilla is still efficacious) and we look over at the sound of a snore. DG doesn't wake as I heave her into a fireman's lift and drop her into her bed. And she has this cute little snuffle. TG has a pretty big snore ("The aircraft is landing" says Innana), but both girls conk out supersonically. One minute, full speed ahead; next minute, your own cuddly aircraft carrier without a muffler.

Paradox of Mood and Attitude

This week started out with problems at work, moved on to problems in other areas, and was generally stressful and full of introspection about why I just don't get where other people are coming from. It's too easy to blame ADD/ADHD and other people's general stupdity (other people in general, not people smart enough to befriend me or read this blog) rather than my own stupidity and inattentiveness to social mores. However, this week has ended wonderfully.

TigerGrrl lost her instrumental music book (cost $8) and agreed that I would replace it, but take that out of her allowance. I had to schlep up to Gaithersburg for some bizarre and horrific reason, and swung by Book Alcove there and yup, Essential Elements 2000 (with DVD!) was there for $4. So TG only loses two weeks of allowance rather than four. And she can practice again. Go me and TG.

PdeFF shared the girls with me this weekend, even though it is his weekend, so I took the girls to Sunday school (hey, they're studying Darwin, evolution (as science) and creation stories (as religion), and sing and dance and generally have a great time.

I went to the library and checked out books and DVDs:

I got:

Parable of the Talents, Octavia Butler
Falling Man, Don Delillo
Song of the Lark, Willa Cather
Talk Talk, T.C. Boyle
Way Down East, D.W. Griffith
Half Nelson
The Maltese Falcon
Z, Costa-Gavras
Le Grande Voyage
Pan's Labyrinth
Golden Door
A Scanner Darkly

I've already started reading Parable of the Talents (I love Octavia Butler and curse the slippery patch of sidewalk she slipped on which killed her --or possibly she died of a stroke, but it doesn't matter, she's dead and there are no more great books of hers tripping our way -- and left us with no further books of hers forthcoming. I think I have a few more books of hers to read, but I'm running out.), and have already watched Way Down East (a delight, and not what you'd expect from Birth-of-A-Nation-guy), Half Nelson (Ryan Gosling is good, Ms. Epps is astonishing), Z (Re-watching -- I saw it in Spain in 1978 -- although I didn't speak Spanish fluently then and spoke no French and the movie's in French with Spanish subtitles. I understood it a lot better this time.), and the Maltese Falcon (How did I fail to see this lovely dark movie until now? That's wrong, just wrong.

TG is in the midst of Erin Hunter's wacko (in a good way) series Warriors about cats living in the wild. She still asks me to read aloud to her, and snuggles her 5' tall body into my lap to do so. I tell her she's my "little, tiny baby" and she says "Enough with the sarcasm, Mama." That makes me so happy.

Also, I got notice of my rent increase for 2009. It's 0%. Thank you crashing economy. Now I just have to pay for TGs braces.

DestructoGirl is loving both Sunday school. and regular school and DGs teacher just loves her. They do that almost romantic running together in the rain thing. Not quite as enthusiastic as a DG run toward Innana (pretty darn bouncy and cheerful and delighted) but a good omen for academic futures.

And next month, I'll be up in New England for 2 weeks with both girls, visiting LOS, FoilMormor, and NuclearGrammy. Not bad.


But life is pretty darn good right now. And Innana went to a historical ball last night and had a good time, with a nice guy (who I like). This is the second historical dance he's done with her, and he's signed up for a next one. But don't get in a tizzy. She assures me they're just friends: heck, a white guy who actually can dance without playing air guitar? Who cares if it's platonic. A good dancer guy who's willing to go to dances with you? That, combined with some good chocolate, and sex can wait. Innana, I apologize in advance, but I'm just so pleased that you have this all worked out.

The Good, the Bad, the Rather Odd, and the Mediocre

We all want to think we are exceptional, and unless we're named Barack Obama or Kofi Annan or Elizabeth Mountbatten*, we're probably totally delusional. Everyday, one overhears people describing mundane details about their lives as though that made them special/fascinating/unique.**

Here are some overhead Metro snippets of people explaining their own exceptionalism to others:

"I commute by different routes each day, unlike most people. Some days, I'll drive to the Metro, other days take the bus, and I'll start from different Metro stops." Glad to see creativity in DC isn't completely bureaucratized out of us, I guess.

"I was reading and writing at age three," says a fifty-ish individual. And between then and now? Well, at least there was a high point, right?

"My wife earns a lot of money." Well, it's always a good idea to let any potential kidnappers know that someone might pay up to get you back.

"My husband and I divide up household decisions into form and function. I get form. He gets function. But we're redecorating our kitchen and while we've agreed on granite rather than Corian, we can't decide which of us gets to pick the faucet. Is that a form or a function decision?" I don't know, but this couple needs some real worry in their lives. Pick the damn faucet already.

I do this too. Everyone does this. I'll talk to people about my kids without stopping to think: does anyone actually give a rats ass? I don't think this is evil, I just wonder what we're all thinking. The debate over which skirt to buy? An explanation of one's talents, real or imagined, to someone who did not ask? Negotiating the way from disinterest to connection, that's what conversation is all about, but I wonder about some of the lures that are being used.

I wonder what I'll here during my commute today. And last night, of course, I saw someone working on a brief that I could read. I know I said I would out the next attorney who violated attorney/client privilege by doing confidential work in a public place, but I just can't do it. Not because I'm so nice (we all know I'm not), but because while I knew what the trademark issue was last night when I got home, my memory is a sieve, and I've forgotten. So, slight dark-haired attorney: you get a bye because I have early onset Alzheimer's. Be grateful.



*Only by accident of birth.
**I do this too, I'm not feeling superior or anything.

And Deflation Is Bad Because?

I will be the first to admit, confess, whatever, that the dismal science and I are barely acquainted. I really do think economics is dismal. But today I read some articles on the horrors of deflation, and then stopped at Giant on my way home, to discover that milk, which had risen from $2.99/gallon to $3.99/gallon, was available for purchase at my local supermarket for $3.75/gallon. After buying the gallon, I received a coupon for a free gallon of milk at my next grocery visit.

Since I have kept my grocery bill constant by simply removing more and more items from the list of ordinary purchases, the idea that a much-used (you should see how much milk my girls drink) staple is dropping in price really doesn't distress me. Why is deflation bad, again?

Appearances Can Deceive (and Can Tell All)

I'm not good at the social signals people send each other, much less the social standing indicated by dress, demeanor, and other signifiers. I try to remain within the social acceptable range without spending too much time or money, but I know that anyone truly plugged into the whole you-are-what-you-own social meter (most people in DC, apparently) will dismiss me out of hand. Yet I see a wonderful demonstration of judging people by appearances most mornings that I walk to the Metro.

Two women walk in the opposite direction than I do and I pass both each morning I walk to the Metro (sometimes I take the bus -- it's a mile and change). They are both approximately the same age (I'd guess forties), class (middle, but not super-comfortable), and otherwise (a little heavier than in their twenties -- heavyset, but still have figures and are active). One woman I can (and do) imagine meeting and getting to know, the otherwise remains a blank -- I envisage her as being one of those repressed and in-denial Anita Brookner characters.

Part of that is just because one woman, after crossing my path almost daily for over a year, now smiles and says hello and the other one simply marches blankly past me. But other indicators also play in. SmilingWoman normally wears trousers, comfortable walking shoes, and has some gray showing in her hair. ShyWoman walks the mile wearing work shoes, skirts, hosiery, has helmet-and-dyed-that-Strom-Thurmond-Tang-color-hair, and wears a bowler hat in inclement weather. Really. I didn't know anyone wore bowler hats anymore outside of Merchant Ivory productions and native women in Bolivia, but it just goes to show you.

Now, there is nothing wrong with either woman's attire or demeanor. No-one should be required (or told) to smile at strangers. But I ascribe a fairly rich life to SmilingWoman and a fairly repressed and limited life to ShyWoman. I'm probably totally wrong, and SmilingWoman is probably a fugitive from a chain gang and ShyWoman is the new Marie Curie, or something like that. But I've had all these totally unfounded suppositions based on nothing more that footwear, headwear, other clothing, and unfortunate hair-coloring choices.

Cookie Monster's Imminent Return

For those of you who, like me, know and like, or just like without knowing, the Cookie Monster, while he hasn't posted yet, I think we can hope for a new post soon. Welcome back, cutie.

Guilt Trip

My children, TigerGrrl and DestructoGirl, are imps of Satan. They are evil to the bottom of their cute little souls, from their sweet, angelic expressions while they sleep to their ever-increasing size feet requiring frequent visits to the Kira/Ariana store in the closet for DG and to the Clock Tower Thrift Store for TG. How evil are they?

They heard that their hero, the God of their idolatry, Barack Obama promised his girls (who are almost, but not quite, as cute as my girls) a puppy as a reward for their good behavior on the campaign trail (after all, neither told a poop joke when given a live mike nor less blurted out something embarrassing about Mom or Dad). I have pointed out that we live in a two-bedroom flat, that puppies are expensive, and that at the White House ParentTeamObama will have staff to help with things like paper training, yard training, and cleaning up the yard.*

I expect an essay soon from TG entitled "Why I Need a Puppy". Sorry kid. We need a yard first. And yes, that makes me feel guilty, but I'm not going to move further out with a longer commute to a worse school district (almost every school district would be worse than the one we are in) so that my daughters can have a puppy. That has to wait.

Once TG figures out that my no is a solid no, I expect the "Why I Need a Hamster" campaign to start up again.

*I have delightful visions of the Obama puppy breaking all kinds of sensitive security devices while successfully learning to pee outdoors, but that's just me.

For You I Tie My Tie

Yup, I'm thinking of Conrad Aiken's Morning Song of Senlin (I'm too tired to find the link, but you're smart people, you can run a search in Google and pull it up). We have our daily routines, The things that get us going in the morning. Today, it was easy.

TigerGrrl went to bed last night late (9:30) but before the election results were a given. She really likes Barack Obama, and tried to get me to promise that he would win. I didn't (never promise a child something you can't do), but did tell her it looked very likely. I fell asleep, but fortunately woke up before she did and had no bad news to tell her.

The Republicans, the neocons, the spend-without-getting-funding "conservatives"* got deservedly spanked. Spanked, spanked, spanked. Unfortunately, they're probably into that and will now try to pay the electorate to do that to them regularly in a FWB (and incredibly tacky) relationship that they will insist does not defile their "family values" stance.

At the bus stop this morning, everyone was smiling. I forgot my lunch today, and the lunch counter cashier, after "como esta" (please excuse the lack of accents in my Spanish) noted "Que dia tan feliz hoy, no?" and I agreed.

A prettier than Andy Garcia hispanic gentleman asked about my knitting today (on the Metro)and then we got talking about the election. He said his faith was restored in our democracy.

And Virginia went democratic. The capitol of the Confederacy voted to elect a half-African man president. Yeehaw. Oh, and Elizabeth Dole got the shaft after claiming her opponent was godless (the opponent is a Sunday school teacher, but even if she were godless, so the fuck what?). And I never want to hear another "DC elected a convicted felon" racist comment or joke. Because it looks like white people in Alaska did exactly the same thing.

MNOT and I had a bet. She had been afraid (post-Republican convention) that Obama wouldn't fight back hard enough and he would pull a Kerry or a Dukakis. I told her that if I had money to spare, which I didn't, I would bet her a bottle of wine that Obama would win. I walked home from therapy tonight with a Josephine Dubois 2005 Pinot Noir which is, I must say, yummy. I should have told her it was a fake bet, but when I tried to decline she said "I wanted to lose this bet." Hee.

This town is going to be overrun for inauguration day. Simply overrun. I am just thrilled at how happy and engaged people feel.

Of course, the economy is still in the crapper, and we have two wars (one of which is fake and needless) ongoing, and everyone hates us. But maybe we're just a little less hated now than we were yesterday before 11:00 p.m. I know I'm feeling better about this great land of ours than I have felt in a while. So I'm going to do TigerGrrl's Obama dance ("Obama! Obama" while doing the circular hand thingy to the tune of "Go [two syllables]! It's your birthday!") and drink a bit more pinot noir and go to bed knowing that while we have a tough road to hoe, at least we have a competent and cognizant leader who will start soon.

Which makes me think of Winston Churchill saying of FDR that FDR had a second rate intellect but a first rate disposition. So far, I think Obama has a first rate intellect (a change for us) and a first rate disposition. Given our situation right now, he'll need both. But I'll have president who I can like and respect without thinking I'm trying to delude myself.

Vote Early and Often

Not really, not the often part (that's for dead people in Chicago), but everyone else: vote, for chrissakes. Thank you.

I've been trying to convince one disaffected friend of mine (who lives in Virginia, where one's vote really does count this year) that voting this year really matters. Palm Beach County in 2000 and Ohio in 2004 get thrown in my face. "I just don't think my vote will really matter."

This friend is going through a whole bucket of bleah in real life right now (ill parent, familial craziness of the Southern gothic variety, lots o' stress -- basically life is sucking and blowing, big time, like a big dog to mix the teenspeak of the last twenty years), so the disaffectedness from that quarter is understandable, except I've heard others express the same sentiment.

For those whose lives aren't in crisis who feel too removed from it all to vote (or who aren't voting because no-one has tried to convince them that their votes matter), have you heard of self-fulfilling prophecies? I often feel like my vote won't matter, but I fight that by voting and by doing my miniscule bit to make my opinion count. If one doesn't vote, of course one's vote won't matter. And then next time round one will feel more removed and less connected.

So if you're of my political bent, get out and vote or forever forswear the right to complain about a vice president who really does think the end of days are coming. And if you are rooting for the person who I don't want to see elected (that would be McCain), if you don't vote, you also lose all complaining rights.

Really. If you want to be able to whinge at all about TPTB (the Powers that Be) for the next four years (and let's be honest: no matter who gets elected, with the economy in the crapper and having alienated every potential ally and tortured the otherwise non-aligned into hating our guts, there's going to be plenty to whinge about, no matter who is in the White House), barring a car accident or something similar* on the way to the polls, I don't want to hear you say, ever, a word of complaint about the president, veep, or members of Congress or the Senate of this great land of ours. Nope. If you can't get yourself to the polls and stand in line and cast your ballot, you can't complain either. Thank you.

*And for those whose lives have been derailed by elder care and familial responsibilities (and insane stepparents who apparently don't realize that when your spouse is hospitalized, that's a real good time to get a medical power of attorney, durable power of attorney, and advance health care directive taken care of, and kids who are trying to take care of that really aren't being evil, they are being caring children, trying to get the paperwork lined up before things reach crisis level) you get a bye on this election. You can complain about Obama, McCain, Biden, Palin, and anyone else you want, voting or not. You are excused.