I wrote five letters so far today. That's really my favorite. I was downloading 20 letters at VOTE FORWARD, https://votefwd.org/. But that made me feel overwhelmed. You can also choose to just download five at a time, so that's what I'm doing right now. This is my basket of letters so far.
Tonight is the debate. Of course we're all in a tizzy about it. Carolyn and I are going to Zoom afterwards, so we can talk about it together. I need that, good or bad, I need to talk.
I've been getting amazing responses to my last blog. It's interesting: The more I worry that I might have gone too far in being too personal, the more people respond to it. I would say that my secret power is that I know that I am ordinary -- that is, I know that every single thing I think and feel is also thought and felt by many others. I could say that I'm extra-ordinary, because I'm a bit of an exhibitionist and get pleasure in sharing those thoughts and feelings with a large public. I tell my own secrets with the deep-down security that they are everyone's secrets.
I have to say that horrendous selfie I took makes me laugh hysterically every single time I look at it.
Tara Ayres turned me on to this podcast, Our Plague Year, the thoughts and voice of one Joseph Fink. I had to make it through a rackety rap beginning before Whatever You Do Next made me sit up straight when Fink said, "If an 87-year-old woman dying of cancer puts us in this terrible position -- let's face it: We've been in this terrible position for quite a while." He said that our dearly beloved political system, by giving disproportionate political power to the rich few, is operating exactly as it was intended by the Founders. Oy vey! I see a People's Constitutional Convention in our future! We need to redo the whole things, folks!
A LINK FOR LESBIANS:
I'm not saying you're REQUIRED to be a lesbian to listen to Dykapella, The Gates of Heaven. But I think there's quite a lot of extra joy there for women of the dykely persuasion. I love the build to what should be a sapphic classic, "Sit on My Face." Again, thanks to Tara.
I saw "Sylvia Loves Eve" this morning at the local playground, where I went throw the ball for the pups. It gave me a warm fuzzy feeling. Maybe it was written by adults, and maybe it was written by young girls. Whoever wrote it saw no reason to hide the fact that two women/girls loved each other. Isn't it nice that such things can happen?
I remember long ago when I was visiting my sister Nancy, and her four-year-old daughter Rose announced that she and her friend Lucy were going to get married when they grew up. Nancy's response? A very nonchalant "That's nice, dear."
Rose is 31 now, and didn't turn out to be a lesbian. But even then Nancy had no fear of it. Some things really have gotten better.
Almost time for the debate, Bloggelinis! I'll write you again soon! Terry