Bicycle Awaits Lazy Woman

This is a view of my bicycle leaning against the gazebo.
Today is a day of easy domesticity
A little grocery shopping
A walk for Cyrus
A nap if I'm so inclined
The joys of early summer

Roscoe Guards the Door

Roscoe guards my cottage door.
The wall of green is Wisteria covering the gazebo.
Lazy Monday

Just Saying.....

I was just making suggestions as examples, but lets say Hillary at Health and Human Services; John Edwards at Labor; Al Gore (if he wanted it ) at EPA; Chuck Hagel at Homeland Security, Bill Richardson at Interior or maybe State, Jim Webb at Defense. The idea is to put together a great team and let the team run for president. With Obama as the team leader. Lots to be learned from Lincoln here.

This was emailed to me this afternoon from my matinee date for really good movies. We are old friends--have known each other at least forty five years. His was my favorite history professor at the University of Utah. He married one of my best friends. His son was born on my birthday, June 12, and died when he was six years old in a tragic accident. The history professor went in the Peace Corps and then moved on to DC during the eighties and stayed. When he retired a couple of years ago, he came back to Salt Lake. We started going to movies and talking politics and history.

He told me this idea last night in a phone conversation. I loved it. It's a brilliant idea. I asked, "Who would you like to see run with him as Vice President?" He said, "Ed Rendell." Wow!

What do you think?

The Best Speech of Her Life

Today Hillary Clinton redeemed herself and assured herself a lasting place of leadership in the democratic party. It was the speech she should have given the night Barack achieved the number of delegates needed to clinch the nomination, but better late than never. She has again promised to campaign her heart out for his victory in November. It was a moving, powerful speech. If she had congratulated Barack Obama every time he won a primary state, she might not have had to give this speech today. It was her lack of grace throughout this long primary season that alienated me. I am her demographic, and I am not alone in having abandoned her because of her behavior throughout the campaign season. There are niceties to be observed. Small gestures to make at every loss, every win. It was this absence of graciousness that alienated me and many other women.

One of the problems with her campaign was a massive dismissal and diminution of Senator Obama's achievements and accomplishments throughout his life. It was her giving the republicans the ads they will use against him in the general election that made me so angry at her. She put herself side by side with John McCain, and Senator Obama on the other, as if he had no stature, no right to challenge them. Experience versus Change. Well, it all depends on the kind of experience and the kind of change, doesn't it?

Her judgement has been a problem for me all along. It was her failure to work collegially to give us universal health care when she first had the chance to make that a reality. It was her vote for the Iraq war resolution without reading the intelligence reports that made me question her competence to govern. It was her justification and rationalization for that vote that made me wonder if she wasn't the wrong person to lead us forward. It was the lies, and her dismissal of her lies when she was called on them, that made me question not just her judgement, but her integrity, her respect for us, the electorate, that finally made me dislike her on a visceral level.

But today she gave a speech that just might rehabilitate her career as a leader to be respected again. I'll watch with hope, and wish her well.

Lard Ass

Well ass might not be the right word. Gut might be more accurate, gut and thighs. I blame my weight gains on "drug weight." Having lived my late adult life on bipolar drugs, I have become accustomed to the ups and down of drug weight. For a long season last year at this time I was taken off antidepressants--my moods stabilized by a mood stabilizer. I lost forty pounds fairly rapidly. Antidepressants are notorious for weight gain and is one of the reasons it is difficult keep women on them. I have come to the conclusion that I'd rather be a little fat and happy than bone thin and depressed. I did well for a long time just mood stabilized. But then came the inevitable symptoms of depression creeping in on tiny cats paws. Irritability is the first clue. The inability to sleep is another--either that or sleeping all the time.

My young friend Melea, comes to visit three or four times a week. So she notices the things I eat. Lately for breakfast I've been having corn bread and cantaloupe--it's fetish eating, I know, but healthy, I thought. The corn bread comforts the Texas girl in me, and the cantaloupe is fruit for god's sake. I heat my rather large slice of corn bread for a few seconds, then slather it with butter which melts nicely on the warm, fragrant corn bread, and then fill the rest of the plate with cantaloupe pieces--enough so that each bite of corn bread is followed by the cool sweet taste of cantaloupe.

So last time Melea was here, I was bitching about the weigh-in at the doctor's office--146 lbs. Ack! 120 is my ideal weight, 130 isn't bad, but 146 is fat. I'm shrinking from my models height of 5'8"--probably down to 5'6 1/2". So the 146 doesn't look the same on me as it would have when I was taller. The main problem is that last years clothes do not fit. Fortunately I keep a pair of fat jeans for just this sort of occasion. So while Melea listened to me bitch about my gut, she got one of my little boxes of Jiffy Corn Bread Mix out of my cupboard and read the ingredients. Lard was the third ingredient. And I must say, coming from Texas where good cooks know the value of lard, I wasn't horrified like Melea was. She is just a boneless, skinless grilled chicken breast short of vegetarianism. She doesn't make pie pastry, or pastry of any kind. But I know that pie pastry is best made with lard, not butter, though butter is an OK
substitute.

Then there is the lack of real exercise. Yeah, I take my old dog for a walk or two a day, but these are not long walks--designed more to keep joints working than walk-off fat. And then I sit at my computer reading blogs and news papers, waiting for the major news shows to start. Usually this would be the season I'd be obsessed with my garden, but it's been cold and rainy. And since I got Cyrus, I've noticed that he hates the vacuum cleaner--giving me just the excuse I need not to vacuum clean. Then yesterday I had to get together some papers for the financial aid folks at Intermountain Health Care Hospital billing department. I have a big filing cabinet, and finding things isn't all that hard, but once I pull stuff out of files, they tend to get pilled up on one surface or another, not to get filed again until some cleaning frenzy forces me to get organized again. Well today's the day. First I'll have my warm buttery cornbread with it's compliment of ice cold, peeled. bite sized cantaloupe, then I'll get my lard ass in gear and clean this place. And if I have any time left over, I'm going to the thrift store to buy a new spring wardrobe, sized 12 probably.

Normal Rhythm

I'm in normal rhythm. Enraged, but normal rhythm. This is as it should be. My cardiologist is a recent California transplant. He shares my outrage. He can't talk to anyone in his department because they're all republicans. They did an EKG and my rhythm is normal. Then he and I talked politics. It was enormously therapeutic. I wonder how he'll work it into the bill.

So, here's the question. What does she, what does she, the hard working, the hard working white woman with millions of supporters WANT??!!! And so, tell us Hillary what do you want??!!! Are you entitled to anything you want? And, haven't we heard you say in many settings and reported on over and over, your fierce declaration that you will support with all your heart and energy for the nominee, whoever that nominee is.

My cardiologist and I agree that Jim Webb would be a great choice for Vice President.

Fury

I am so angry today I can barely function. I had my reasons for changing my support from Hillary to Barack. This switch happened right after one of the early primary states, and has been reinforced in every primary state since. Now I loathe her. And after last night's insulting performance by Hillary, I am shaking with rage. It is one more reason not to offer her the Vice Presidential spot. Her hubris knows no bounds. She is so convinced she deserves, is entitled to, and has the votes to be the President, it must be so. Well, not so much Hillary. Now she can go fuck herself.

I'm on my way to the cardiologist. It's a check-up to see what needs to be done next and when. I'll bet my blood pressure is sky high today. My anger feels like a bipolar rage--the transitioning from OK to not OK. Hopefully by the time I get back home, Hillary will have come to her senses and backed off making any more demands that she deserves to be Veep. If she doesn't, I hope Barack tells her to go fuck herself.

Barack Wins Nomination But Hillary throws Her Own Victory Party

It's over. Barack won.

But Hillary throws her own victory party claiming she has the popular vote. Hillary tells news sources she is open to taking Veep position despite the fact that it has not bee offered. Hillary gives speech asking her supporters to go to Hillary.com to contribute to her campaign.

Hillary has no honor, no grace, no since of shame or proportion. Hillary has ego. Hillary has a viscous, petty, nasty, drive to get her way, no matter the cost to the party. Hillary believes she is the party and it's owed to her. Hillary has a sense of entitlement that knows no bounds.

Hillary has promised to deliver her supporters no matter who wins the nomination. Hilary claims she wants party unity. Is Hillary a lair?

Dream Team: written five, long, hard months of rancor and last minute ploys to change the rules

I though right from the beginning that Barack and Hillary would be the dream team. When I started this dream I was still a Clinton supporter. I still love the Clintons. My decision to switch my support from Hillary to Barack was not because I grew tired of the Clintons, it was that I grew tired of the press coverage of Hillary, of the prospect of another political campaign with the press bringing up Ken Starr and Newt Gingrich’s greatest hits. The prospect of vitriol and mud slinging on a scale and at a volume we haven’t even imagined yet, makes me weep for what we have become—alienated and cynical. I am tired of the stridency of the press calling Hillary strident. I am tired of the press guffawing about Hillary’s cackle. None of this is Hillary’s fault, and I’m not sure she will ever be able to change the way the old white men who are the political pundits cover her, see her, talk about her.

And then there was South Carolina. I know that the large population of African American’s living and voting in South Carolina gave Barack Obama a slight edge, but what happened there made it possible for me to imagine a different democratic party—a party of unity and change—real change. It was the young people who were so energized by his candidacy that pleased me most. Without them engaged in the political process none of this matters very much—they are our future. Without them knowing the issues that will matter in their lives, this is all a pretty empty process, and they will remain disaffected. So this just might be the first time since the late years of the Vietnam war when young people are going to change the politics as usual we have become so accustomed to. It’s change long overdue.

Buzz

Yesterday it was reported that the Clintons had returned to their home in New York. Staffers had been told to get their expense accounts in order (with receipts) and turn them in by the end of the week. And that the Clintons would be having a large gathering, a party, if you will,--sounds more like a wake to me but what do I know--and anyone on the staff who wanted to attend would get one way airfare to New York for the party. The caveat was, a trip home, or another Clinton event, but not both. One way ticket. Hum. I'd be choosing the trip home to work on my resume, but that's the kind of cold hearted, pragmatist bitch I am.

It is assumed that Barack Obama will have enough delegates at the end of the these two North West primaries tonight, plus the Supers that will come rolling in today, to have the nomination in hand. Some naive pundits have conjectured that part of the reason for the timing of Hillary's big party in New York tonight will be to congratulate Barack and call for Party unity. And I'm thinking "Hell no! That bitch is going to rain on his parade." But I'm a cynic, what else would I think, having watched the Clinton campaign change the goal posts every time she doesn't get the outcome she expected or thinks she's entitled to, and believes she has the power and the political juice to manipulate, to game the system.

Harold Ickes, Hillary's Karl Rove, finally set the record straight this morning after the Associated Press wrote a piece saying Hillary will give a concession speech tonight. Hell no! "She is honoring her loyal supporters, her superb staff, bla bla bla." It is an adoration for Hillary party. Just not enough adoration to pay the airfare home for her loyal staffers. No, Hillary is going to rain on Barack's parade. Way to go girl! This is just another example of the many reasons we have come to loath you. Graciousness is not your long suit. Gamesmanship is your thing. And remind us please, what is it you want? The veep job? To be one of the Supremes? Attorney General? Because your charm is wooing us into wishing some kind of political oblivion for you.

Beware The Flipping of The Bird

My heinous mother taught me many wondrous things when I was very young. How to swear in the most offensive way possible--mostly employing the F-bomb creatively. How to smoke a cigarette like a lady, how to mix the basic cocktails, and how and when to flip the bird. All of this when I was five. I made many adults laugh, cringe, and say "thank you my dear," when I handed them their highball. These early lessons were never unlearned. But I'm beginning to think there might be payback for the bird flipping I employed so effectively on the road. I gave it up once some guy pulled a gun on me from his glovebox as I passed him doing eighty five in a fifty mile zone. But now I have just returned from the nearest Insta-Care where my middle finger was lanced to relieve an abscess of unknown origin. The only good thing I have to report about this experience is the great drugs they prescribed to alleviate the pain this dark red swollen middle digit has caused me. But once that guy pulled his pistol and aimed it at my head as I sped past on his left side, I decided to forgo the momentary pleasure this gesture provided. I don't scream "Fuck You, Moron," anymore, except at home when watching "news" events. So, since I gave up flipping the bird long ago, could this abscess be karmic payback?

By Wednesday

Harold Ickes helped write the rules he now wants to break. They bent the rules pretty hard to give Harold what he wanted. And still he bitched and moaned. He was insulting to everyone and a rabble rouser to the Clinton supporters who were bussed in for the event. Harold Ickes is on the DNC Rules Committee and the rules he wrote to advantage his candidate now have been broken to advantage his candidate. Then he went on Meet The Press and whined some more about the process that he feels is so unfair to the woman who pays his checks.

And all afternoon I watched HRC rack up her huge win in Porto Rico, where they get to vote in the primary, but not in the general election. Big Woop. She has no path to victory unless all the remaining Super delegates go to her, when in fact, they have been leaving her like rats on a sinking ship. As I watched her give her long victory speech last night, the part that grabbed my attention was the big beg for money. Always with the big pitch for bringing in the bucks. I hope the Clinton's had a nice vacation, but now I really don't want to ever have to see them again.

Harold Ickes Makes Me Sick

Harold Ickes was the only real spectacle out of the DNC Rules Committee. Just saying his name makes me gag a little. He has said Hillary Clinton has instructed him to take the ruling today to the Credentials Committee. Big fucking deal, Harold. You've lost, and I hope by your embarrassing performance today, you've lost your job as well. If Hillary wanted reconciliation for the Democratic party, she could have had it today, and maybe a shot at whatever job she wanted, short of Veep. But now, if I were Barack (thankfully for all of us I'm not), I'd tell her to go take a flying fuck. Ickes has just said the Clinton campaign is taking it to the floor of the convention. Now that's the way to get party unity--a brokered convention.

OK Nancy, OK Harry, bring those really big Supers in, and take us home, without our ever having to see or hear Harold Ickes again. Hillary, get your nominating speech in order, maybe that's your consolation prize.

Tennis Anyone?

Two views of the alley directly behind my little house.

Aspen and Star of Bethlehem

This is a view from the back drive by the alley. If you peer through the trees, you can see the outline of the gazebo. This was taken a month ago when the vines on the gazebo had not leafed out.

Old Romantic

My ex, first love, last love, called from LAX last night to say he was headed back to Costa Rica to see his dentist. It's cheaper to fly round trip to have the work done there, than have it done in Santa Barbara where he's been hanging out with his second ex-wife. I am amazed that they have moved past the hating each other faze to the living in the same house together again. Wonder's seem never to cease. He said to watch for a package. And today arrived the package. Two bottles of my favorite perfume, habanita by Molinard. I gave up wearing it years ago, when I stopped flying to big cities in foreign countries with fancy duty free stores at the airports. It was my signature fragrance for all the years he and I were together. We haven't lived together in many years. He has come to visit, usually sometime around my birthday. This gift is an early birthday present. Included with the fragrance was a sheet of yellow legal paper with a note in his unmistakable hand. He says he looks forward to smelling me. Now that's romantic.

Cyrus at Rest

This is my nine year old Rottie/Mastiff/Shepherd mix who spent his nine years in a shelter. This is his first dog bed. He has three of them now, and he hates to leave the house unless it's the morning ritual, or I have a leash in my hand and my hat on. Cyrus loves his little house.

Roscoe is Raped

Roscoe, minding his own business, is assaulted by the amorous Segundo. No arrest yet. Roscoe refuses to press charges, despite the abundant evidence that he did nothing to provoke the rape. This crime took place in my back yard. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Utah Savage at Home, Without Words for Once, Cause Dusty Stole My Man Keith

A Happy Ablation to You, Too. Just What I Wanted for My Birthday

Not angioplasty, but ablation. This is the second procedure and will be scheduled when I go to see the Cardiologist next Wednesday. It will require general anesthesia, which is the only part of this procedure that scares me. I don't like to be intubated and all anesthesia makes me vomit. So, other than that, the fact that they ram a laser up your femoral artery to zap a nerve in your heart scares me not a bit. I am perfectly clotted. Not too clotted, and not too clottless. Clotted just right. It's all this clean living. I celebrated by eating ten peanut butter cookies. And chain smoking. Why fuck with what got me this far.

Scott McClellen has made my day, and many to come. Thank you Scott for your gutlessness when it counted. The mothers of more than four thousand dead soldiers will curse you forever. But we, who want to see your ex-boss and all his minions and co-conspirators jailed forever at Gitmo, now have real hope. And John McCain can retire and live off his wife, the beer heiress, until he croaks, which shouldn't be long now.