In The Pink

 The pink flamingo lady cave is ready for christening.

This Remarkable Human

 

Well Done, Extremely Well Done

 

My Comment on Tonight's Presidential Debate

 

Boy Scouts, Politics, and Fat

I expect to get all the political messages on my phone. I either delete them, opt out of receiving more, send back a snarky answer if it's from Trumpians, or respond politely. I did not expect to get deluged by weight loss text messages. Melt off the fat in thirty days with this miracle blah, blah, blah! Whatever. Do these people think I'm fat? Or do they think everyone has gained the standard Covid-19? Or have they been peeking at me putting on my jeans? I have also gotten messages from people who want to know if I was traumatized with sexual abuse as a child in the Boy Scouts organization. Well. I wasn't a boy and therefore did not pass the physical to become a Boy Scout. Girls were not allowed to join until 2018, and I was well past girlhood by then. Then I wondered if somehow these two things are related. And this particular scenario occurred to me. I was a boy who was in the Boy Scouts way back when. I have since gone through gender reassignment surgery. And because I was traumatized by sexual abuse as a Boy Scout I have developed an eating disorder and currently weigh in at 385 pounds. Naturally, none of this is true. Maybe I just need to change my phone number.

I'm The Chick in the Mask

 

Obvious

 

My Bowl is Empty

Treats, please. And not those crunchy things that clean my teeth. I want the smelly, squishy, fishy stuff from the little green can. I have all day.

September!

 

Little Cat Feet

No, not the fog coming in that Carl Sandburg wrote so eloquently about in a poem. But an actual neighborhood cat nosing about in the garage and inspecting the paint job on this cabinet door. Okay, it's my fault because I left the door open for some fresh air. At least the paint was dry and the dusty little feets prints wiped right off.

 

Meanwhile, in the living room, Newt has left evidence on the TV cabinet that he was investigating something back there. So now I have to dust. I eventually get around to these tedious household tasks, really, I do. But it's far easier to ignore the dust when it has a nice, undisturbed look to it. If only he would consent to be trained to do the dusting. Just flop over and move about until the dust is displaced. It's the least he could do.

Plunder and Meows and Arrrrgggs, Oh, My

 Talk like a pirate, ye motley fools, or I'll shred the couch.

Rest in Power, Ruth Bader Ginsburg

 

Epilogue

All I wanted to do a couple of nights ago was read my father's obituary. I can't say why, only that I felt a what-if or two dangling since his death in February. So I googled his name. I searched all sorts of online memorial sites and newspapers in the vicinity of where he had lived. Nothing. It seems no one cared enough to write one and submit it. Many newspapers charge to print an obit, with the exception of a brief notice that includes the time and place of a memorial service or funeral. I suppose I could contact Lamar County in Mississippi, I expect they write up and file all sorts of official documents. Those pertaining to births and deaths and marriages. But I won't. I'm reasonably certain that ole dad had not figured out some sort of elaborate plan around being escorted off by the grim reaper. He told me many times in recent years that he had a will and how he was going to have it amended so my younger son and I would receive some promised possessions that he had. I'm not holding my breath. My father saying that he had a will was likely just something he said. Any of the remaining family who were still in contact with him in the months preceding his death had to deal with disposing of what he still had, and they are welcome to any remaining cash or items he left behind. They earned it. Interestingly, I found him on a genealogy website where neither my mother nor the four of us who were the product of their marriage were listed. But Patricia Lucille Hoeppner was listed there. It seems she married my father on February 23, 1983. She is now deceased so there will be no answers there. Funny how I expected that my father's death would finally lay to rest all that was associated with him. The lies, the broken promises, the disappointment. If anything, there are more questions. And if no one who was somewhat close to him in the last few years he was alive cared enough to pay for publishing an obituary, I can't say I care enough to find answers for my questions.    

My Fave Joni Song

 

Calling USAG William Barr

 

Wednesday Chuckle

 

Paint it Black

More cabinet doors painted and returned to their spots. I'm really liking the results. Pay no attention to the doorless space to the right. I'm working on it. Stay tuned for more progress!

I Can Be Such a Jerk

And at last this behavior has worked in my favor. A couple of weeks ago this very sweatshirt appeared in my feed on Facebook. I declared that Ed should buy it for me since it expresses my sentiments about the current calendar year so perfectly. Then an extraordinary thing happened. Ed bought this shirt for me. And wished me a happy birthday. I was stunned. Being a smartass worked out for me for the first time. Ed is a sweet, quite wonderful man and I feel fortunate to count him among my friends. And now I have a new favorite cozy fleecy shirt to wear when winter inevitably sets in. Thanks Ed! I vow to turn over a new leaf and be less of a smartass. Unless it could work again. Don't encourage me.

Nineteen Years Ago

Today is one of those days that is etched into our collective memory. And rather than try to say anything new about this date in 2001, I'll just go back to a few years ago when I wrote this. Stay safe. Blessed be. Hug someone you love.

Going West

There's a place I want to be in the near future. Once all the hoops have been leapt through and details settled. It's often, well, practically continuously on my mind. So this morning when I clicked over to read my horoscope* and I see this locale pictured at the top of the screen, I rejoice a little. Another small clue that the universe wants me to make this move. Teasing me and piquing my interest, reminding me of something I couldn't possibly forget. Merely a coincidence, you say. Perhaps, but I don't believe in coincidences. I believe in hope. And in dreams, and how such dreams can become reality. 

*Strictly for entertainment purposes.

From Someone Who Teaches AP US History

If you are confused as to why so many Americans are defending the confederate flag, monuments, and statues right now, I put together a quick Q&A, with questions from a hypothetical person with misconceptions and answers from my perspective as an AP U.S. History Teacher:

Q: What did the Confederacy stand for?

A: Rather than interpreting, let's go directly to the words of the Confederacy's Vice President, Alexander Stephens. In his "Cornerstone Speech" on March 21, 1861, he stated "The Constitution... rested upon the equality of races. This was an error. Our new government is founded upon exactly the opposite idea; its foundations are laid, its corner-stone rests, upon the great truth that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery subordination to the superior race is his natural and normal condition. This, our new government, is the first, in the history of the world, based upon this great physical, philosophical, and moral truth."

Q: But people keep saying heritage, not hate! They think the purpose of the flags and monuments are to honor confederate soldiers, right?

A: The vast majority of confederate flags flying over government buildings in the south were first put up in the 1960's during the Civil Rights Movement. So for the first hundred years after the Civil War ended, while relatives of those who fought in it were still alive, the confederate flag wasn't much of a symbol at all. But when Martin Luther King, Jr. and John Lewis were marching on Washington to get the Civil Rights Act (1964) and Voting Rights Act (1965) passed, leaders in the south felt compelled to fly confederate flags and put up monuments to honor people who had no living family members and had fought in a war that ended a century ago. Their purpose in doing this was to exhibit their displeasure with black people fighting for basic human rights that were guaranteed to them in the 14th and 15th Amendments but being withheld by racist policies and practices.

Q: But if we take down confederate statues and monuments, how will we teach about and remember the past?

A: Monuments and statues pose little educational relevance, whereas museums, the rightful place for Confederate paraphernalia, can provide more educational opportunities for citizens to learn about our country's history. The Civil War is important to learn about, and will always loom large in social studies curriculum. Removing monuments from public places and putting them in museums also allows us to avoid celebrating and honoring people who believed that tens of millions of black Americans should be legal property. 

Q: But what if the Confederate flag symbol means something different to me?

A: Individuals aren't able to change the meaning of symbols that have been defined by history. When I hang a Bucs flag outside my house, to me, the Bucs might represent the best team in the NFL, but to the outside world, they represent an awful NFL team, since they haven't won a playoff game in 18 years. I can't change that meaning for everyone who drives by my house because it has been established for the whole world to see. If a Confederate flag stands for generic rebellion or southern pride to you, your personal interpretation forfeits any meaning once you display it publicly, as its meaning takes on the meaning it earned when a failed regime killed hundreds of thousands of Americans in an attempt to destroy America and keep black people enslaved forever. 

Q: But my uncle posted a meme that said the Civil War/Confederacy was about state's rights and not slavery?

A: "A state's right to what?" - John Green

Q: Everyone is offended about everything these days. Should we take everything down that offends anyone?

A: The Confederacy literally existed to go against the Constitution, the Declaration of Independence, and the idea that black people are human beings that deserve to live freely. If that doesn't upset or offend you, you are un-American. 

Q: Taking these down goes against the First Amendment and freedom of speech, right?

A: No. Anyone can do whatever they want on their private property, on their social media, etc. Taking these down in public, or having private corporations like NASCAR ban them on their properties, has literally nothing to do with the Bill of Rights. 

Q: How can people claim to be patriotic while supporting a flag that stood for a group of insurgent failures who tried to permanently destroy America and killed 300,000 Americans in the process? 

A: No clue.

Q: So if I made a confederate flag my profile picture, or put a confederate bumper sticker on my car, what am I declaring to my friends, family, and the world?

A: That you support the Confederacy. To recap, the Confederacy stands for: slavery, white supremacy, treason, failure, and a desire to permanently destroy Selective history as it supports white supremacy. 

It’s no accident that: 

You learned about Helen Keller instead of W.E.B, DuBois

You learned about the Watts and L.A. Riots, but not Tulsa or Wilmington. 

You learned that George Washington’s dentures were made from wood, rather than the teeth from slaves. 

You learned about black ghettos, but not about Black Wall Street. 

You learned about the New Deal, but not “red lining.”

You learned about Tommie Smith’s fist in the air at the 1968 Olympics, but not that he was sent home the next day and stripped of his medals. 

You learned about “black crime,” but white criminals were never lumped together and discussed in terms of their race. 

You learned about “states rights” as the cause of the Civil War, but not that slavery was mentioned 80 times in the articles of secession. 

Privilege is having history rewritten so that you don’t have to acknowledge uncomfortable facts. 

Racism is perpetuated by people who refuse to learn or acknowledge this reality. 

You have a choice. - Jim Golden

I do not have permission from the author of this piece to post it here. I attempted to find him but went down a social media rabbit hole. My rationalization for posting it without permission is that it needs to be seen and read by as many people as possible. For its unvarnished truth and for its historical accuracy. 

My Very Own Fairy Castle

I had been looking for another cactus to join the Christmas cactus in front of the patio door. The east-facing space that kills less hardy plants and melts candles with abandon. But I balked at the prices for the ones I did find, mostly in floral shops. Eighteen bucks was the least expensive one I found and the prices soared to well over two hundred for one of any size. Plus I wasn't terribly fond of any of them. For some reason I have to fall in love with things I take home and I just didn't like what I was seeing. Then, last week in Trader Joe's, I spied this little beauty for the bargain price of six dollars.

As if I hadn't fallen in love already, the name of this darling, prickly little wonder would have won me over.

Now my fairy castle is in a pot with room to grow and all the sunshine she could possibly need. After some quick internet investigation, I discovered that fairy castles are supposed to be easy to grow. About the only mistake you can make with an Acanthocereus tetragonus is watering it too much. It does bloom but not until it is several years old so I'm not holding my breath. I was patient enough waiting for my hoya to bloom, over twenty years, so I'm good with my fairy castle just as it is. They reach a mature height of six feet tall. Let's hope this brown-thumbed gal can keep it alive that long. 

A Little Joni

It's the third verse that applies. 

On My Mind This Monday Morning

In reference to this, yes. Yes, I do have someone in mind. I think we could help each other tremendously on the way to healing our broken selves. It feels right. So very right. The sooner, the better, says the impatient impish me lounging on my left shoulder. Patience, child, whispers the angelic me into my right ear. To make the first move or not, that is the question. The need to know, the fear of knowing. My feathered thing flies. 

It's Not Cloudy

Today's apocalypse colored sky is courtesy of the forest fires raging in the Rocky Mountains. I live 75-100 miles away from the forest inferno as the ash flies. The sky and the dusty film on my car are indications of how enormous the fires are that have been urged along by winds and hot temperatures. Snow is predicted for those areas tomorrow so I do hope the cooler temps and some precipitation will help put out the fire. 

Let Them Eat Cake

Every time I walk past this, which is several times a day, Killer Queen starts looping in my brain. At least I'm fairly sure I'm not belting it out out loud every time I pass. Maybe it's time to put the birthday paraphernalia away.

What if Two Broken People Were to Hug Each Other Really, Really Tight?

That would be perfect.

Your Thursday Sing-Along

Four And Counting

Two doors up!

Two more doors up! Only thirteen more to go! Guess I better get back out in the garage. To paint more cabinet doors.

Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit!