Category Archives: Uncategorized

The Sky is Falling?

Posted on December 21, 2024 | Leave a comment

Imagine a hungry person steals a loaf of bread. Then someone who has no interest in the store, the bread or the thief demands immediate death by firing squad otherwise the town’s entire police department will be sacked. That’s what Elon Musk just did to the U.S. House of Representatives and its leader, Speaker Mike Johnson. Donald Trump isn’t even president yet, and Elon Musk is throwing his weight around, publicly calling out fellow Republican members and saying he’ll pay for primary challenges against anyone who doesn’t do his bidding.

Elon Musk didn’t get a single vote for president this year. He cannot, because he is South African. But he of billions of U.S. government contracts and companies regulated by the federal government, is dictating to Congress how to vote and whom to hire in the Trump administration. And Trump is letting him get away with it.

The federal workers who create cancer cures, predict the weather, or protect regular folks from financial scams are now the “deep state” but Donald Trump wants U.S. policy to be set by unelected billionaires who wouldn’t know how to find their way around a grocery store or how to put that nozzle in the gas tank of one of their luxury vehicles they’ve never driven because they have drivers and chefs for those menial tasks that are a part of our everyday lives.

President-elect Trump is using private emails (remember when he tried to put Hillary in jail for that?) and not allowing FBI background checks, so that prior to taking office, he is negotiating with foreign leaders on non-secure phones with potential staff who we don’t even know will pass necessary security clearances.

There is only one president at a time, and for the next several weeks that is Joe Biden. But Elon Musk has just endorsed a pro-Nazi political group in Germany, and wants to put as much as $100 million into an extreme right wing party in the UK to control the politics over there as well. Is this official U.S. policy? Is it Trump’s policy? Or is Elon just throwing his weight around because he can.

Like the supposed, alleged bread thief, the shop owner might have seen the criminal and describe the theft to the police. Or the police might have witnesses and begin an investigation, that may result in an indictment, hiring of counsel, a trial and potential conviction. People don’t just get the firing squad in the parking lot, with or without the evidence, the aforementioned loaf of bread.

If Elon Musk starts threatening to fund primaries with the first piece of legislation that comes up, before Trump is even president, what’s he going to threaten next? Sounds a lot like the sky is falling. There’s strength in numbers, Congresspeople. You have a job to do for your constituents. If you do it to their satisfaction, they might vote you back in no matter how much money Elon Musk throws at your opponent. Show some backbone. You get paid to fix your constituents’ problems. Do it. You’ve been able to just say no to Democrats for years. That’s easy. Governing is hard.

Step back and think. Does the average Trump voter have any idea yet that he’s going to strip us of our Social Security and Medicare, Medicaid, the VA, reignite inflation and cost us enough in lost benefits and higher prices that will make the Biden years look positively Edenic.

The news will settle in slowly, but it might actually “take” this time, because these tariffs and tax cuts for the ultra-rich will impact all of us 99% in different ways. In rural areas where Trump support runs strong, cuts to health care and public education, combined with repercussions of trade wars, will hit especially hard. As an added bonus, the deficit will grow by trillions leaving our kids with the burden and a federal government staffed by Boss Tweed’s toadies will have to be remedied by a future administration, if there ever is one.

The best places for apolitical professionals are our military, our professional administrative agency staff, and most importantly our judges. After all, these mistakes have been made before, and historically things do not end well when democracies turn into broligarchies. And if you think Elon Musk incapable of the duties of POTUS, as a neophyte who doesn’t even know how a bill becomes a law, try adding the UK and Germany concurrently to his dictatorships and see what happens. Ah, isn’t politics fun? Dee

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Moonshine and Memories

Posted on December 19, 2024 | 1 comment

When I was nine, our next door neighbor, a high school girl, was hired by my parents to teach me to ride a horse. She rode a beautiful quarter horse named Chips, and I got the pony, Pickles. Pickles was like the Asgardian Loki, an inveterate trickster. He specialized in things like stepping on my foot while I was learning to put on his saddle, things that embarassed me to no end.

One day I was tasked to leave Chips’ side and walk along two sides of the field behind our house, then trot diaganolly back. All was going well until we hit the diagonal return. Pickles galloped all-out, then nearing our driveway, stopped on all four hooves (think cartoon-style) whereupon I catapulted over his head and into a sandbox. He then proceeded back to his home down our 1.4 mile driveway and interrupted a dinner party. Seeing Pickles alone meant that he threw someone, again, so the entire party made their way up our drive to make sure I was OK. I haven’t been on a horse since that day.

So now, for over fifty years, I’ve had a healthy respect for, and fear of, horses. But at age 30 I was gifted a five week-old kitten and I knew nothing of cats but learned quickly. So the other day, we brought my in-laws’ new dog (dumped near their ranch a couple of months ago) to a major city to be spayed. It was an overnight trip and we had dinner with the vet who would be doing the surgery, my husband’s cousin. We trust her implicitly as she took out the hips of our first dog over 20 years ago when she was diagnosed as a pup with the worst hip dysplasia any vet had ever seen. A few months later, after growing her own hips from cartilage, our “new” pup was cornering around trees and beating Golden Retrievers to the tennis ball!

We had a couple of hours to kill before dinner so got a tour of their property, which includes a number of dogs and cats, a rare lizard, at least one snake, horses and one donkey. Oh, and a rescued American Alligator. In their pond. OK’d by Fish and Game, for now. A third-generation horse with one eye was the first to come up to say hello and I must say I didn’t feel any fear. I petted her and we got along great. She even nuzzled my hair. It was quite the pleasant, if messy, experience! I know that one is not supposed to show fear to any companion animal as their senses are very attuned to it, and I passed the test! About time, Dee. Horses are such magnificent animals that to never touch one again in my lifetime would be a shame.

It’s now 48 hours after spay surgery and the patient is out and about, still not eating and sluggish from all the drugs but definitely on the mend. Which fits into another story. Since my in-laws moved here (the big city metroplex flooded the home they built decades ago for a reservoir) they’ve had a few unusual guests. There’s a prison in town and they tend to let their paroled inmates go just before suppertime, with just a plastic grocery bag of their belongings, nothing in their stomachs and no phone call to friend or family. A few miles from the jail, this is the first house they see to the south, so they knock on the door and ask for a ride to the nearest town 15 miles away, or to use the phone to call a ride.

The in-laws were out of town yesterday and my husband was locked away on a zoom call. Our princess of a non-guard dog Lulu was barking indoors and the stray rescue was in solitary recuperating outside and there came a knock at the front door. He was very polite. I had bread in the oven and dinner in prep stage and declined to drive him to the next town as my f-i-l had done “last time.” But after locking the door I got my phone and let him call his sister for a ride.

Later, when the folks were home for dinner I told my f-i-l that his prison buddy had returned for another ride. They joked that my principal job now on the ranch is to get any strays spayed or neutered. So, parolees, if you want a ride, phone call or free meal, Dee will have to make sure you’re neutered first! Hey, it worked for me when I was single and not interested in a particular suitor. What are your hobbies, Dee? “I help spay and neuter feral cats on weekends.” His hands instinctively cover his groin. There’s another unwanted date taken care of. Phew! Glad I found my husband of nearly 22 years so I don’t have to go through that charade anymore.

Life on the farm, never a dull moment. Perhaps I’ll even get to ride a horse before we leave this burg. For now I’ve Moonshine, and memories. Cheers! Dee

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The Cowgirl

Posted on November 29, 2024 | 1 comment

All hands on deck, so to speak. I was summoned to the barn, where my horse awaited. Tractor emergency, unable to carry round (hay) bales to the cattle, the weather’s getting cold and it just started to mist, then rain and I was dressed for weather in the mid-seventies.

Ok, I don’t have a horse, that was just wishful thinking on my part, dear reader. The last time I was on our neighbor’s sly evil pony Pickles he galloped (not trotted as my neighbor/riding teacher instructed me to do) across a field and stopped short with all four legs and tossed me overhead into the sandbox. I was eight years old and that’s the last time I’ve ever been on a horse. Only injury was to my pride, as when Pickles showed up at home 1/4 mile away so proud of himself, their dinner party stopped mid-forkful and headed down our long driveway to see what damage he’d done.

The other day my transportation was actually a John Deere Gator that I had to drive back, after a herd check of several large pastures with creeks/tree lines that make counting cattle difficult, with the goal of getting to another tractorfor hay pickups and disbursements. Interesting landscape, as my fingers started to freeze and my glasses to fog.

So, this city mouse got to be a country mouse for a morning and do some farm chores. Mostly opening and closing gates as an eight year-old might do for Dad. It made up for the other day when I drove my father-in-law to the tractor mechanic to pick up the broken tractor and the shop owner looked inside my old Acura MDX and asked what was the interesting contraption in back. The back third of our SUV contains a cargo net to separate from the back leather seats, a 4″ orthopedic dog mattress and tub with emergency supplies for humans and dogs.

What interesting farm equipment was behind the cargo net? I replied, “Oh, that’s for the dog.” He rolled his eyes at the city girl whose dog even has a double fan in her posh, panoramic travel bubble. Sheesh. Not only do I speak New York in the hinterlands of Texas, I’ve an indoor prissy Mini Aussie who’s what you might deem in a person “book smart” but not “street smart.” About a half hour ago, several neighborhood dogs were commingling and when my husband took Miss Lulu out, the neighbor’s dog bolted and Lulu ran after him down the fast-moving state highway into traffic and almost killed herself. My husband was scared to death, and it didn’t faze her a bit. “Just out playing with my buds!”

I passed the first “cowgirl” test, braving the weather et al without incident or complaint, as farm “kids” are taught to do. I remember the 25 acres my folks bought when I was in grade school and they thought they were really out in the country living a farm existence. Not hardly. We did get a rescue pup for a bit but that was the extent of our animal husbandry, that and occasionally helping with the neighbors’ horses, dogs and cats. Oh, and we adopted baby mice from the back seat of Mom’s car. They only lasted a day.

Again at age eight I was taught to drive a Toro lawn mower with 3′ blade because my father wanted the entire 1/4 mile to the highway mowed. A fools’ errand, but my sister and I switched off segments every weekend, the large section took three hours, the smaller one two.

Back then we had no cell phones, and only three networks to watch (plus PBS sometimes) so aside from sledding and building snow forts winters were cold and luckily the library in town had some childrens’ books to lend. In summer we were outdoors all day every day after chores. I remember it being a wonderful time that introduced me to the pleasures of country life without milking cows or any real childhood responsibility.

As it is now, I appreciate both my city and country worlds and the opportunity to have learned much from both. Toughest part for me is not being able to run (walk) out to the store if I’m short cream for a dessert or an egg or two for breakfast. In the country, one makes do. Cheers! Dee

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Who Am I

Posted on November 27, 2024 | Leave a comment

A few years back I was in an accident that caused a traumatic brain injury, and a craniotomy. My husband the software guy says my brain hit Ctrl-Alt-Del. Haha. A month later I came out of an interesting coma. Interesting for everyone else because they had to determine my fate, and for me because I had many very interesting life-like dreams.

Those dreams culminated in a drab grey room where I asked myself “is this it?” Is this the end, is this all there is out there? At that point my brain said I couldn’t go now, there was simply too much to do and that was that. I woke up.

My husband says that when I was coming back he began to recognize me when I did particularly “Dee” things. When the nurse tried to pin me in the sheets by tucking them in tightly, I fought to get my feet outside the covers as I always do. He knew right then that I’d be back.

I didn’t get it until a couple of months later in brain rehab. A visiting psychologist laughed at me and called me “the smart one” before he told all the other medical professionals (in earshot) I’d never go home again. Of course that was a challenge and I proved him wrong quickly and decisively. He laughed because one day a fellow patient climbed the five steps intended to teach TMI patients to re-learn stairs. At dinner that afternoon I congratulated him on his effort. Yea!

It took me a while after discharge months later that that moment was the moment I got “me” back. The life of a patient is all me, me, me all the time. How’s my recovery. How many more language exercises. How many flights of stairs. Can I make it to the next handhold, perhaps twenty feet, before collapsing into my wheelchair.

They mocked me because even though I was as bad off as the other patients, I thought of others and was cheering on their recovery as well as my own. I got me back that day and while at the time I couldn’t put my finger on it or put it into words, I knew it and it gave me the will and strength to pass all their damn tests and get out of there and back to my life taking care of my family.

I’ve always cared for those less fortunate, kids who were mocked for being too smart or dumb or ugly or even gay. That caring has always extended to animals, which is why people in all my old neighborhoods still call me “the dog lady.”

I’ve never understood how selfish people can operate on a daily basis, thinking only of themselves and their own needs and desires to the exclusion of all else. And I certainly never thought we’d vote as a nation to hire a sociopathic, malignant narcissist as the president of the United States.

Parents, school, and Mass inculcated me to the “do unto others” philosophy that has driven me my entire life, even in grade school. I’m a senior citizen now with (currently) the right to vote and have my opinion heard. Perhaps the antithesis to the political circus of hatred that is coming into power is the polar opposite. I am considering becoming radical, using kindness as my message.

Most of us are caring, loving people who want government to serve our needs, try to keep grocery and gas prices low and have a working border and immigration policy. We don’t have an urgent need to ruin our constitutional democracy by hurting the majority of our people, the economy, our environment, our children because one person is mad at the world and is hell-bent on hurting everyone who has or may ever hurt him. I’m not a sociopath or a vindictive person by nature or diagnosis. I just want to live my life free from the intrusion of people who have no business being in my business, whether it be who I love, how I vote or how my doctors and I choose to treat my conditions as they arise.

Let’s be kind to each other. Trump has shown time and time again that he’ll push the envelope way too far and when people cry out in unison, he’s proved a bully that retreats at the slightest resistance. So that’s what we’ll have to do. With kindness. This election may have squeaked in an incredibly dangerous and unhinged person but I’m still the same, so are you, so are our families and friends. Let’s just kindly tell the MAGA crowd that we like our rights and our Constitution, thank you. We intend to keep them.

The mean visiting psychologist told me I’d never live at home and I’d certainly never drive again. When I took a driving test the instructor asked my why on earth I needed one. It was as if I’d driven yesterday, and I’m a good driver. Yes! Freedom. The State attorney appointed to fight either my doctors or my husband for my proper care actually forgot about the court hearing. I found out about it, called the lawyer and he stopped by only to find that I offered him freshly-brewed herbal tea and conversation, same as any normal homemaker would do. He immediately cancelled the custody hearing and left us alone.

Kindness. Radical kindness. Pass it on. Dee

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Tolerance

Posted on November 27, 2024 | Leave a comment

by Pastor Martin Niemöller

First they came for the Communists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Communist

Then they came for the Socialists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Socialist

Then they came for the trade unionists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a trade unionist

Then they came for the Jews

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Jew

Then they came for me

And there was no one left

To speak out for me

Think about it as the United States of America, a melting pot of immigrants and dreamers, seeks to legally wage war against the rights of women, persons of color, non-Christians, non CIS-gendered persons, and immigrant workers. This is our democracy at work. Be tolerant of others, as you may be next. Dee

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Recipes

Posted on November 24, 2024 | Leave a comment

Got any good ones? I mean any good, badly written ones. Permit me to elaborate.

My m-i-l is known for her delicious potato rolls. She’s always baking five dozen or so at a time for church event or family get-together, no matter who’s the host. Could you bring your potato rolls, sandwiches for fifty guests? Please?

She first showed me a recipe for these refrigerator rolls a couple of decades ago. It gave a few steps then said “go to church. When you get back, they should be ready.” What?

She just shared with me the original, published in a local paper decades earlier. Not only does it call for shortening twice, the second time it appeared it was in place of sugar. Then it goes like this: “Work it up good and put in refrigerator to rise until light. Put a wet cloth over it, then work down, and fix out anyway you want to cook it.” Huh? To someone who’s never made bread before, it must be like reading ancient Greek.

I had the luxury of putting myself through cooking school so I know a lot about how food works. I’ve never been much of a baker because my mother and sisters were, and that’s more of a science with exact rules to make something rise, for instance. Many of my recipes are familial lore, oft-practiced creations or seat-of-the-pants creations. I’m loath to write them in a recipe for a friend because it’s so difficult to put a feel (of dough) or taste in writing and make it come through understandably.

When a recipe is printed in a newspaper, however, one would think it would have some vetting, editing for clarity’s sake at least. So, I’m not speaking to you as a recipe-writing expert. Here I’m just trying to show how not to write a recipe.

Yesterday, at an alt-family Thanksiving my m-i-l was hand-writing her potato roll recipe for yet another guest, a wife of twenty years who has raised a family and still doesn’t know how to cook, especially making bread, so the recipe had to be exact. Two recipes, one with ingredients and the other with each detailed step described. I felt for her, knowing that no matter what the recipient did with the recipe, it would never have the je ne sais crois that M’s has for the past fifty-plus years she’s been making them. I’ve been cooking with her for twenty years and I’d never try to make her potato rolls.

This weekend we tried my seat-of-the-pants version of a breakfast bread. One recipe of M’s potato rolls, rolled out and spread with my cranberry sauce (that I also used for my creation of a Cranberry-Orange Trifle for the gang), then rolled up, made into a ring and split partway into 1″ slices before baking. It was gorgeous and very tasty, topped with a sheen of leftover buttercream. Yum.

My version, a riff on a published lemon blueberry trifle, mixes lemon-orange (7-Up) cake, orange syrup, cranberry sauce (homemade), homemade orange curd and whipped cream/orange curd mix garnished with candied orange slices. It was a hit. No, I’m not giving you the recipe. A fun thing to do, however, when you know the basics for a simple English trifle, is riffing on flavors. My most recent starts with a Ghirardelli brownie mix substituting espresso for the water. sliced in half crosswise. Layer brownie half in a trifle bowl (c’mon, it’s the easiest dessert and looks difficult and presents magnificently so spend $30 for a proper trifle bowl), spread on raspberry pie filling from a can, add a layer of homemade whipped cream and repeat. Top the upper layer of whipped cream with cocoa powder or chocolate curls. If the brownie mix is stale, no problem, brush some simple syrup on each layer before the berries and cream. Voila. Looks and tastes great.

It was a good weekend until my transmission failed on the trip home As Scarlett O’Hara would say, “tomorrow is another day.” Indeed. Cheers and submit Oopsie Recipes to me if you wish. Dee

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House Proud?

Posted on November 20, 2024 | Leave a comment

In the very best sense, of course. When we came back south this fall to my husband’s family home in Texas, shortly after we arrived a starving little yellow dog was dumped upon us. I think it knew I was coming and decided this was the place to go. I’ve been called The Dog Lady for years, it fits.

She’d been severely abused and, weeks later, is still hand-shy and only my husband has been able to pick her up. She won’t abide a collar and she’s terrified of a slip lead. Once, my father-in-law closed the gate on a dog pen only to find out moments later that she’d escaped its high fence, earning her the nickname “Sneaky.”

After trying to adopt her out through the local Humane Society, which wasn’t much help at all, my in-laws decided to adopt her as “ranch dog” (unlike our little indoor Mini-Aussie Princess Lucia, aka Lulu) and named her Sara. That was my idea. As she started getting less frightened of humans, I saw her one day frolicking in the pasture around the three newest bulls, who I call “The Three Amigos” and smiling. I remembered Sara Smile from Hall & Oates all those years ago. So Sara it is.

In the old days down south the rich folk would sit out on the front porch after supper fanning themselves and drinking iced tea. This would demonstrate to all the neighbors walking by that they could afford both ice, and sugar. No small feat in those days before refrigeration.

Sara started making herself useful right away, patrolling the house regularly. She makes the rounds quite often and is always here for breakfast and dinner. Her new owners got her some high quality puppy food and have an appointment to have her spayed. She’s put on several pounds so that her ribs are no longer visible, and she probably weighs about 20-25 lbs.

The dog next door stops by to visit (hopefully nothing more) and play chase in the pastures. Miss Lulu plays ball with her in the back yard.

This morning Sara was lying in the front yard by the State Hwy. , watching. Her “toy box” is the driveway, where she keeps marrow bones, a priceless tennis ball, my husband’s tied up old tee shirt and now a plastic three-ring tug toy that Lulu only wants to destroy. She and all her worldly possessions are out front for all to see, because now this is HER house and these are HER people.

Hopefully we’ll be able to get her on a leash or in Lulu’s crate for her spay. My husband and I sprung for a new collar, and an ID tag that arrives today. Plus Lulu’s puppy collar and leash with a southwest theme, as nearly six years ago we picked her up from a breeder in Tucson and dressed her appropriately for her flight north.

So, Sara has reason to be house proud. She lets us get a bit closer every day and she has a wonderful temperament. Sad to see that she was dumped on our unsuspecting family but it’s good to know that she has a home. Soon she’ll be hopping on the Gator to go out and feed the cows. Until then, the house is safe from intruders with its new guard pup. Neuter and spay, the kindest way! Dee

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Positive Solutions

Posted on November 16, 2024 | Leave a comment

The time for crying and blame are over. It’s time to plan for the future and save our precious democracy. We have a major birthday (250) coming up and don’t want to let down our founders.

Much will change in our country due to the perceived economic circumstances that re-elected Donald Trump. When all the votes are counted, he will not win the popular vote by more than 2% so this is NOT any type of mandate.

I’m going to use my age and wisdom garnered over a lifetime of work and living to think positive thoughts and solve problems with pro-active solutions. Here are two thoughts.

To the United States Senate:

Do your job. Read your oath of office. Honor it. The founders made you alone responsible for advice and consent to the president’s cabinet and other picks. Use it. Do not let Donald Trump skip background checks and public hearings for these critical staff positions.

Why would I, a longtime Democrat, tell you this? It looks like Trump will make good on his worst campaign promises. As a woman, that really bothers me. As a woman with a brain who was as good or better than any man I ever worked alongside, the incoming president’s plans to blow up our government from the inside and make us vulnerable to attacks from foreign enemies and even our own military, there is much about which to be fearful.

Trump was elected to bring down the price of eggs (and bacon), keep the border safe and to make white men feel better about themselves not being “replaced.” When his voters realize, very soon, that tax cuts are only going to the rich, and none of us will have health insurance, vaccines, and that inflation will go through the roof, they’re not gonna be happy with the bait and switch we dems warned them about.

If you, Senators, allow these ludicrous picks for AG, DOD. HHS and National Security go through without vetting or public scrutiny of any kind, you will bear the brunt of that anger and will not be re-elected. Advise and consent was a good idea for 250 years, as was FBI background checks. If these folks can’t get a job at a local McDonalds, they shouldn’t be in charge of nearly three million soldiers, for example.

Just do your job and let the chips fall where they may. Some may pass public scrutiny, others may not. Let the people know what you’re doing and don’t skip town and call it recess. Same with the House. Let the Ethics Committee’s report out, and don’t help Trump engineer a recess so he can dupe the American people yet again. You have to run every two years and midterms have already started.

To Disillusioned Young Men:

I’m an older woman who was in my teens and twenties from 1975 to 1985. It was a chaotic time but I grew up OK and don’t remember any horrific things that scarred me for life. That said, I do not know the realities you are facing in today’s world with omnipresent social media and anonymous judgements that can hurt young hearts and souls.

I would ask you to look to your own father, perhaps grandfather or uncle, for inspiration as to what kind of man you’d like to be. If those are not inspiring choices, look to a teacher, coach or religious leader as a mentor. Often a busy person will make time to help mold a young mind and help you get started on your life’s journey. If you’re concerned about your life’s work, the library is a great choice. Reading helped me understand a lot about the world and my place in it.

That said, I’ve always abided by the golden rule of doing unto others. Be interested in the world around you. Put down your phone and smell the roses. If you have dangerous thoughts, talk to an adult and get help. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.

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Positive thoughts. We must try to hold on to our rights with tenacity, vigor, steadfastness and belief that we’re doing what we need to do to save our nation. That means also being there for disillusioned Trump voters who will soon realize that he only wanted the job for power, to stay out of prison and to reward his rich friends and punish his enemies. There is no thought given to seniors on Social Security and Medicare, the poor on Medicaid and food stamps, or especially women who miscarry and are blithely left to die in hospital parking lots. There’s a lot to do and moping and finger-pointing are useless at this point. We all need to work together and be useful to get out of this mess. Cheers! Dee

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Legacy or Malevolence?

Posted on November 7, 2024 | Leave a comment

‘Tis a sad week for backers of the U.S. Constition and rule of law. Depending on the House results Trump may be blessed with a trifecta plus SCOTUS, all of whom clearly care more for Dear Leader than their oaths or constituency. SCOTUS no longer opines for the ages, but for one man. All I can say is, it’s our own da** fault, voters. Apparently, this is what the American people want. At least until the spotlight turns its evil eye upon them, which it certainly will. Beware what you signed up for, Elon Musk.

As Kamala Harris said, there remain stars in our upcoming dark world. Let me share a few of them.

First of all, Donald Trump is swayed by attention (good or bad, apparently) and popularity (crowd size, anyone?) He’s already about to get the biggest gift of his presidency, a get-out-of-jail-free card. Phew. He could possibly be convinced that burning down the house may not be best for his precious legacy. Of course he’ll still deport a slew of immigrants (but not nearly as many as he promised, remember the wall?) and treat all women like second-class citizens. But he may be dissuaded from following his evangelical base to the nth degree on reproductive rights. Why? Because he can’t run again, and if he wants to build a legacy he can’t have half the nation marching against him every week of his presidency.

Then I could be wrong. I certainly was wrong to even dare to bask in the brief glimmer of hope brought to us by Joe Biden for over three years and Kamala Harris for 107 days.

Even if the House and Senate go Republican, these folks still have to run for re-election and can’t afford to indulge the most evil of Trump’s whims. As soon as he publicly tries to disenfranchise half the population because we have wombs, or tanks the economy through his precious and scattershot tariffs, he could be held in check by realists on both sides of the aisle. Why do you think Congress never bit the third rail for fifty years and enshrined abortion rights into law? We wouldn’t be in this mess today if, in the 1970’s, Congress did one brave act that was made “OK” by prior SCOTUS intervention. Then again, Congress never adopts a budget either, waiting for the last minute to stave off catastrophe again again as in the Perils of Pauline.

Those of us with grand thoughts about protecting our nation through its Constitution and rule of law, we have a lot to do over the next two years to turn Congress and State houses. Let’s not let malaise set in, and instead roll up our sleeves, corral our neighbors and friends and get to work.

All I can say for now is let’s hope Trump lives another four years, more if it’s possible for him to actually pay for some of the myriad crimes he’s committed. Why? Trump’s merely a useful idiot, a dim bulb with motivation only to enrich himself. J.D. Vance, on the other hand, is smart and has drunk a ton of Theocracy Tea. Add to that, he truly despises women (wonder what Usha thinks of that, or is she really a Stepford Wife?) and then we’d be even worse off.

Keep your spirits up, once more into the breach, ladies! Cheers, Dee

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An American Quilt

Posted on November 4, 2024 | Leave a comment

[The last voting blogpost, I promise! Enough hatred and vitriol for a lifetime, and in only one week!]

I knew nothing of quilts until I met my husband. As it were, I failed my sewing badge miserably in Girl Scouts and had the worst leader in the world. Her idea of judging said badge entry was calling the entire Troop over to laugh at my work. Nice. I was seven and still remember. So, sewing wasn’t exactly something I gravitated toward.

When we married, my M-I-L gave me a priceless hexagonal quilt made of flour sacks, 100 years old, made in her family. She told me to use it as a tablecloth, covered with plastic. No way. It deserved a proper hanging. Each hexagon was a single flower surrounded by groups of flowers in the same color scheme. Until her relative began getting a little senile. Then the colors got brighter and the combinations around the edges of the quilt a bit strange. There are two motifs across the quilt that fall in that dimension, and those I named my husband and I, two peas out of pods who met each other across miles and life choices to get together anyway. That’s the Flour Flower Power quilt.

Then, my M-I-L gave me a polyester (!) bright geometric quilt she designed and sewed while her two sons were young, in the seventies. It’s wild and I call it the Crazy Quilt. Another is a really cute quilt of little boys in overalls wearing sun hats. I’ve yet to have her sew pockets on the back for hanging but will soon so I can hang it in our next home.

When we moved three years ago and each got our own office, I picked out two quilts. His is a muted version (kinder, gentler) of a Texas flag. Mine is a sampler quilt made by a group of 12 Canadian women (my mom was Canadian). So we’re big into hanging quilts now.

Each quilt brings a story or two. Just like every American. Tomorrow, we have a choice to respect and care for each other as fellow citizens, no matter how different we may be in terms of race, gender, religion, sexual identity, social status. Or we can choose to leave our walls bare, our neighborhoods bereft of activity and just hate and punish each other for our differences.

I’ve chosen to love my neighbor, even if one plays his music a bit too loud, and another parks a bit too close to the line in the parking garage.

Americans come in many shapes and sizes and that’s what makes each “quilt” unique. I learn from others every day, and hopefully at my advanced age I’m able to share some wisdom as well. We’re all Americans. Our nation was created as one of immigrants, and together we’ve made it the greatest in the world. I look forward to sharing America’s 250th birthday with my fellow Americans. I hope you voted, and that we’ll be able to share in a brighter future for all. Thanks, as always, for reading. Dee

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