CAROLYN AND I HAVE BEEN RECORDING PODCASTS AND THEY ARE NOW UP ON THEIR OWN PAGE. WE TELL STORIES FROM OUR WILD PAST, PERFORM SCENES, TALK ABOUT DEEP PHILOSOPHICAL ISSUES LIKE RECEIVING AND NOT RECEIVING APPLAUSE. CHECK OUT ...
As you might remember, yesterday I was absolutely giddy from contemplating the proba/possibility of getting rid of Der Toddler. I went to bed blissful, wthout my usual late night shows.
So I watched Stephen Colbert this morning....
....And he said,,,
THE RACE IS TIGHTENING! OY VEY!
And then he talked about the 545 children taken from their parents at the border who have STILL not been reunited with their parents because the government can't find them. No jokes at all. No humor. Righteous anger. Very powerful.
My blood pressure went up and my mood plummeted.
Then I opened the New York Times, and right on Page One, the headline under the headline said...
"Some Democrats Dare to Whisper
About a Biden Landslide"
My blood pressure went down and my spirits sailed UP!
I continued calmly and joyfully perusing the paper until I came to.....
"For Democrats, Horror Never Ends"
....All about how so many Dems can't bear to let themselves hope because they are suffering PTSD recalling the buildup to Election Day 2016 when we all KNEW that the long wait would end with celebrating the election of the FIRST WOMAN as President and then the balloon deflating and then the shock and horror and then the despair and then waking the next morning realizing it wasn't all a bad dream.....
Blood pressure up. Mood down.
And then I turned the page only to find.....
... The continuation of the front page story about the possibility of a Biden landslide.
Slow exhale as my blood pressure gently drifts down and a sweet and blissful smile breaks through the clouds of depression that had been gathering above my head until I look at the facing page....
"Fake Political News Aimed at Latinos To Suppress Vote"
.... about a popular Spanish language talk radio host in Miami who says that the women leading the Black Lives Matter movement are witches aligned with Satan, because one of founders of BLM mentioned invoking the spirits of people who died. And this idiotic idea has spread to the mainstream media...
Oy vey oy vey oy vey oy vey
And then I discovered this photo below on my desktop (I've used it before), and I said to myself "Yes, this moment did exist." And I calmed down.
The truth is, whoever wins, we have so much work to do. Right? Find the lost parents, figure out why so many are going cuckoo and how to heal them...
So I made myself a very healthy AND delicious salad and then went out for a walk with the pups.
Tonight I'll watch the debate and pray that Biden is easy-going and calm, and Trump makes a fool of himself again.
I have developed a habit of watching the opening monologs of three of the late night shows -- Trevor Noah, Steven Colbert, and Seth Meyers -- before I go to bed. They are all totally political, and I usually learn things. Plus all three amuse me.
But I rarely laugh. I'm just not a big laugher. I don't know why. When I go to a comedy in the theater -- as was my wont in the pre-covid days -- I always take care not to sit in the front row. As a performer myself, I know what a drag it is to have a stone-face like me sitting up close.
But last night I found myself laughing! Frequently! It wasn't that Trev & Steph & Seth were funnier than usual. They are always reliably funny. They are funny themselves and they have a team of writers to help them achieve laugh lift-off five nights a week.
Laughter just kept bubbling up from deep inside. Something in ME has changed, and I think it's this: I am no longer walking around in the Dark Gray Cloud of Dread because:
TRUMP IS GOING DOWN IN FLAMES!
THE GOP IS GOING DOWN THE TUBES!
THE RATS ARE LEAVING THE SINKING SHIP!
Since November 8, 2016 we have been living in a Dark Gray Cloud of Dread that just got dreadfuller and dreadfuller.
I'm not saying I see smooth sailing until we see Der Toddler leave the People's White House for the last time. But... I don't know.... maybe it WILL be smooth sailing! It's POSSIBLE. If this experience has taught us anything it's that ANYTHING is possible.
And the laughter bubbles up in me. What a great feeling.
I want to end this blog with a photo of the pups on the beach. Why does Loulou always look purposeful and elegant while Nikki always looks like a goofball?
They really are a great pair.
Bloggelinis, this is a very short blog because my wrist hurts. Terry
On Friday Carolyn asked me if I wanted to go to the Women's March. I didn't even know it was happening yesterday, Saturday. But she said there were several planned in big cities, to protest Barrett's nomination for the Supreme Court. I really didn't want to go. I haven't marched since Covid started, to protect myself. And what was the point? It's a done deal. Carolyn said she would only go if I went too. I said I'd think about it. By the time I'd decided that, yes, this is the least I could do to honor Ruth Bader Ginsburg's memory, Carolyn had decided she would go with me or without me. And when SHE goes, she really GOES. Or rather, GODDESSZILLA goes! And, inspired by Ruth, Goddesszilla became her own RBG!
You see the squares of white dots on black under Zilly's chin? That's a last-minute lace collar created by Carolyn in memory of dear RBG. I helped put it on so it didn't cover the shocking pink sequin nipples.
There were a lot of fabulous signs, as you will see. And there were a few great costumes. But there is only one Goddesszilla, and the joy she gives to other marchers is ... well, it's actually nourishing to both of us.
We came up with the idea of a female Godzilla for a scene for the Crackpot Crones. But the scene never really worked. I felt
bad that Carolyn did all that work on the costume for nothing! But she finally figured out that Goddesszilla belongs on the street, not the stage.
This was a very socially-distanced march. There was no rally either before or after. All were masked -- except Goddesszilla. It wasn't a huge gathering, but the signs were first -rate. And it was so great to see Ruth Bader Ginsburg honored in so many different ways.
There was a whole troupe of creepy handmaids. This one below was particularly ominous and powerful.
"5150" is the code for someone who is so mentally ill that they need to be involuntarily held in a hospital.
Carolyn worked for Planned Parenthood for years. She led a teen theater dealing with health issues that toured Oregon. She has a very soft spot for Planned Parenthood.
This image on the left is so strong. A coat hanger dripping blood.
Below: Another great costume.
I love this wonderful family below. After the photo, they put their rather winded bulldog in the red wagon.
So many young people, so much creativity. What a joy it was for the two of us. Raging Bossy Goddesszilla waves goodby to you from San Francisco!
All for now, Bloggelinis. I mailed all my letters on Saturday -- about 130, I think. Now I'm going to move on to phone calls. Let's not get complacent now that Der Toddler appears to be going down the tubes. That's how many felt four years ago and stopped working to defeat him. Keep on truckin'!! Terry
Every morning I awake torn between a desire to save the world and an inclination to savor it. This makes it hard to plan the day. But if we forget to savor the world, what possible reason do we have for saving it? In a way, the savoring must come first.
— E.B. White
On Friday, I woke up out of sorts, freaked way out, and down in the dumps. So I decided to spend the day savoring the world -- which for me means taking a long ramble with the pups. San Francisco is a particularly easy city to savor, which is probably why I have returned to it from my two attempts to start a new life somewhere else.
First, we went to Upper Douglass Dog Park. Or I should say UPPER Douglass. It's not far, but there are four hills in between me and the dog park. I'm not talking some wimpy bump that might be called a hill in some OTHER towns. These are SAN FRANCISCO hills. I have named them (alphabetically) to encourage my ascent: Arrow, Backwards (I take a few steps backing up), CrowFlies, and Delirious.
It's a very LARGE dog park....
Once I'm up the hill, it's easy to continue on to my beloved Glen Canyon.
...with wonderful views. You have to stand on a tree stump to get the view below.
As you can see, someone is sitting on the Jared Memorial Bench, so I had to keep going. You remember, Jared is the little boy who enjoyed that view in his too-short life.
It was fortuitous that I kept going horizontally instead of descending into the canyon as I usually do because...
... I came upon some steps I had never noticed before. You can see them starting right behind Nikki.
And these steps led me to a beautiful community garden!
This garden had soil too poor to grow vegetables, so it contained flowers only.
So then it was back into the canyon, down and out past the playground, which had these rather strange creatures cavorting in it.
And then out the official entrance to the canyon past a historical marker that I must have passed so many times, but as I am always walking by the back of it into the Glen Park neighborhood, I had never really read it and understood the SIGNIFICANCE of it before:
THE VERY FIRST DYNAMITE FACTORY IN AMERICA
WAS IN MY OWN DEAR GLEN CANYON!
It was demolished in a huge explosion a year and a half later. That must have been something to hear. I can't even imagine. Quite a while ago, a house not too far from me blew up in the middle of the night, because of a gas leak. That was quite an event. The family woke up, heard something funny and got out of there in time. So no one was hurt. But a DYNAMITE FACTORY EXPLODING! The very first dynamite factory explosion in America, I'll bet!
I mean, having the first dynamite factory near me is exciting enough. But the first explosion -- I was, and still am, all agog. It takes quite a bit to bring me to a state of agogness, me being a very sophisticated person and all, but that historical marker did it. Not everyone you know would have heard a dynamite factory exploding if they had been born 100 years earlier than they were actually born -- and only the day before my birthday!
Agog as I was, I continued on. And I saw this bear in the entrance to a house.
I don't get it. I'm not very good at puzzles. So this is the Daily Puzzle Bear and the puzzle of the day is "thumb" spelled backwards twice and written vertically.
Huh? Any help would be greatly appreciated. Well, maybe not GREATLY. But appreciated. The truth is, I'm not good at puzzles because I just don't CARE what the answer is. Or maybe I don't care because I'm not good at it. I am not intrigued. Well, maybe a little.
Perhaps I was still too agogy from the historical marker to respond to the Puzzle Bear. The very first dynamite factory explosion.... You can't make this stuff up.
And on to one of the most beautiful fences in town...
I have never seen a fence like this anywhere else. Mostly, the Victorians have wrought iron fences. And the house itself is a beauty:
As you can see from the lights on inside, it's getting dark. I'm on my way home. The last memorable image from this ramble is this whimsical person with legs spread wide. I could not figure out how to fit the whole body into the frame:
The arrow-shaped leg is pointing to this:
Can you imagine, someone took the time to create this large, complex and transient chalk drawing in order to draw attention to these words of wisdom. Okay, everybody: Stretch right now!
Oooh, that felt good.
Bloggelinis, there is indeed so much to savor in this world. How lucky I am to have made this walk and to share it with you. Terry