Happy Birthday, Christina-Taylor

You'd be 23 today.  

No doubt you'd be taller than I am.  

No doubt you'd be doing my little errands because taking care of others was embedded in your soul.  

You'd be excited to vote in your first Presidential Election.  I see you registering 1st time voters who become incapable of refusing your entreaties, because you are still a force of nature.

I see you treasuring FlapJilly and Giblet as your own little faux niece and nephew, because, in your life,  there were never too many people to love.

I ran across a picture of you standing, arms akimbo, staring me down for some long-forgotten reason, at the Reid Park Zoo, on the group tour when you charmed the entire Cornell Club of Southern Arizona with your questions and your enthusiasm.  I laughed through the tears that appeared out of nowhere.  You were a presence, kiddo, an honest to God presence.

I carry you with me, in my heart, every day.  You encourage me and annoy me and laugh at me and you're never far when I need you.  I miss you every day.

(and, it's 9/11, which, for me, somehow, takes second place)

Mute the Mic

I'll get it out of the way first.  The moderators lost control in the second half.  He was allowed to rant and she was cut off, not allowed to respond. 

If the intention was to let Trump be Trump and not sane-itize his behavior, they sure did that.  He was himself.  That probably was comforting to those who love him and ridiculous as always to those who don't.  

I don't know how the 20,000 people in six key districts (Steve Kornacki's analysis of what will swing the election) saw it.  That is terrifying.

So is the fact that he firmly believes that immigrants are stealing and eating people's pets.  

Having a plan shouldn't be a novel idea.  Everyone didn't want Roe overturned.  Victor Orban is a questionable character reference.  January 6th. Charlottesville.  I could go on, but it was enough having him in my living room for 90 minutes.  

While he was squinting, she was engaging with the camera.  If he ever looked at her the camera didn't show it.

Should they debate again?  Tim Walz said he'd encourage her to debate every day.  

Taylor Swift endorsed her, thereby influencing millions of girl dads.

It was a good night.  56 more days to go.

Taking A Break

The day got away from me and then the 49'ers got hold of me and then James Patterson wouldn't let me go.

I'll be back tomorrow with all things debate.  

Tech Made Me Smile

Smiling is not something usually associated with my interactions with technology.  Groaning, moaning, growling perhaps, but not smiling.  Not until Friday. 

I was in my closet, evaluating outfits for the evening, when faintly, right at the edge of my brand new right hearing aid's capability, I heard the first few bars of Humoresque.  A little louder, it switched to my left ear, and I realized it was my phone's ring tone.

No way on God's green earth would I have heard that without my updated assistive devices.  

Even better, as I walked out of the closet toward the rest of the house the sound became progressively louder.  The music led me right to my phone.

I don't remember who called.  I was entranced.  I was tempted to call my cell from the land line (don't judge; yes, we like our land line) just to do it all over again.  Tech that seamlessly enhanced my life was hanging over my ears.

It turns out that what I found remarkable is mundane.  Dr. K just nodded and asked if I had Bluetooth.  

I do.  The technician at Costco asked me the same question, so I'm sure a connection was made.  It's still a wonderful surprise.  

And it kept getting better.  I can listen to music from my phone, obviating the need for the very cool but suddenly useless ear buds gifted by my son.  I listened to Cory Booker's Instagram inspiration for my day instead of reading the words with the sound off because I'm sitting on the couch next to a football-comatose-husband.  

They are smaller and charge faster than their predecessors.  They come with a warranty and cleaning help.  And they gently alert me to the fact that my phone, though no longer in my sight or within my hearing distance, has begun to demand my presence.

Tech that makes me smile.  Who knew?

And Then....

As if yesterday wasn't enough, today Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton filed suit against the Texas State Fair.

Because there are not enough fried items n a stick?  Brother counted 58 varieties at the Iowa State Fair; was Texas not competitive enough?

Because the rides were terrifying or the lines too long or the weather wasn't great?

Nope.

The State Fair decided to ban weaponry.  

The State Fair of Texas prohibits fairgoers from carrying all firearms, knives with blades over 5.5 inches long, clubs, explosive devices, ammunition, chemical dispensing devices, replicas or hoaxes, or weapons of any kind. This includes concealed carry and open carry of firearms anywhere on the fairgrounds including Cotton Bowl Stadium. This policy does not include elected, appointed, or employed peace officers.

In the past, licensed concealed carry was permitted.  Not anymore.

Every year, the State Fair of Texas has an ongoing safety and security assessment, adding and adjusting security measures to ensure a safe environment for all fairgoers, employees, and vendors. For us to continue offering a safe event for all, we feel this is an important measure to implement.  

Just like Wyatt Earp in Dodge City, the fair says check your guns at the door.  Apparently, Ken Paxton thinks he knows better.

Once again, I have no words.

giffords.org

  

 

Apalachee

Columbine

Sandy Hook

Uvalde

Parkland

I have no words.  

Done In By the Heat

The scholars kept asking if the garden was open.  My car's thermometer registered in the low 90's.  I wasn't planning to garden; I had neither a hat nor water.  But the little boys already had hold of my hands and their destination was clear.  

I was hooked.  

There's not much to do when the temperatures are so high.  Mr. Guy, our landscape manager, weed whacked the giant cluster of weeds beneath the hose bib, which spread out to the near garden bed.  He swept up a lot of that which he cut, but there was still a lot to do.  

These two set to work without being told, proudly displaying their collections of hay and dead plants before depositing them in the giant white garbage bag which is, for the time being, living in the middle of the garden.

Tasked with clearing out the beds, the scholars discovered a tree, albeit a very small tree.  After some discussion about the merits of a tree growing in the garden bed, extrication was begun.  

Though they toiled diligently, the big boys learned a lesson about the resilience of native plants.  They find a comfy spot and hold on for dear life.  And hold on this one did.

The whistle blew and recess was over for them before they'd made much progress.  This little one sat all by herself for a very long time, using her fingers, a variety of trowels, and a hand rake, all to no avail.

Classmates came to help.

Getting closer and closer became more and more frustrating, but there was laughing, not cursing, and I was reminded why I love my school garden so much.

His hands wrapped tightly around the bottom of the very prickly seedling (another lesson on the advantages of prickers to baby plants) and pulled with all his might.

It was at this point that I realized I was sitting on the bench, wondering if I had the energy to walk into the shade.  The garden's closed, I announced, and we all headed for the shade of what our still stuck in the garden tree would be if we didn't try to kill it.

We agreed that it was too hot for words, thanked one another for the help and the fun and the garden, and then I went inside and the nurse gave me ice water and an ice pack for my pulse points and some more water and quiet conversation.

Grandmas shouldn't be out in the heat without a head covering and water and access to lots of shade.  Yes, to answer TBG's question when the wrung out version of his wife flopped into the house, I did learn my lesson.

100 Best Books?

Full of chutzpah as usual, the New York Times decided now was the time to discover The Best Books of the 21st Century.  

It's not 25 years into the century.  What prompted them to query hundreds of literary luminaries?  Did they grow tired of promoting false equivalencies in the news section, so decided to swing their attention to literature?

There are no poetry collections (if I missed something let me know) nor histories.  The marvelous new translations of the ancients are missing, too.

I've read 10 of them, and put down two of them (Atonement  and The Corrections

I found familiar authors and missed many of the African and Indian novelists I've read over the last few years (Tomi Obaro, Akwaeke Emezi, Vauhini Vara, Sopan Deb, Omolola Ogunyemi).

It's an interesting list, but it's paywalled.  Because that offends me and because I'm aggravated with The Paper of Record and because I can, here's the list, in case you care.

100. Tree of Smoke - Denis Johnson

99. How to Be Both - Ali Smith

98. Bel Canto - Ann Patchett

97. Men We Reaped - Jesmyn Ward

96. Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments - Saidiya Hartman

95. Bring Up the Bodies - Hilary Mantel

94. On Beauty - Zadie Smith

93. Station Eleven - Emily St. John Mandel

92. The Days of Abandonment - Elena Ferrante

91. The Human Stain - Philip Roth

90. The Sympathizer - Viet Thanh Nguyen

89. The Return - Hisham Matar

88. The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis - Lydia Davis

87. Detransition, Baby - Torrey Peters

86. Frederick Douglass - David W. Blight

85. Pastoralia - George Saunders

84. The Emperor of All Maladies - Siddhartha Mukherjee

83. When We Cease to Understand the World - Benjamín Labatut

82. Hurricane Season - Fernanda Melchor

81. Pulphead - John Jeremiah Sullivan

80. The Story of the Lost Child - Elena Ferrante

79. A Manual for Cleaning Women - Lucia Berlin

78. Septology - Jon Fosse

77. An American Marriage - Tayari Jones

76. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow - Gabrielle Zevin

75. Exit West - Mohsin Hamid

74. Olive Kitteridge - Elizabeth Strout

73. The Passage of Power - Robert Caro

72. Secondhand Time - Svetlana Alexievich

71. The Copenhagen Trilogy - Tove Ditlevsen

70. All Aunt Hagar’s Children - Edward P. Jones

69. The New Jim Crow - Michelle Alexander

68. The Friend - Sigrid Nunez

67. Far From the Tree - Andrew Solomon

66. We the Animals - Justin Torres

65. The Plot Against America - Philip Roth

64. The Great Believers - Rebecca Makkai

63. Veronica - Mary Gaitskill

62. 10:04 - Ben Lerner

61. Demon Copperhead - Barbara Kingsolver

60. Heavy - Kiese Laymon

59. Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides

58. Stay True - Hua Hsu

57. Nickel and Dimed - Barbara Ehrenreich

56. The Flamethrowers - Rachel Kushner

55. The Looming Tower - Lawrence Wright

54. Tenth of December - George Saunders

53. Runaway - Alice Munro

52. Train Dreams - Denis Johnson

51. Life After Life - Kate Atkinson

50. Trust - Hernan Diaz

49. The Vegetarian - Han Kang

48. Persepolis - Marjane Satrapi

47. A Mercy - Toni Morrison

46. The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt

45. The Argonauts - Maggie Nelson

44. The Fifth Season - N.K. Jemisin

43. Postwar - Tony Judt

42. A Brief History of Seven Killings - Marlon James

41. Small Things Like These - Claire Keegan

40. H Is for Hawk - Helen Macdonald

39. A Visit From the Goon Squad - Jennifer Egan

38. The Savage Detectives - Roberto Bolaño

37. The Years - Annie Ernaux

36. Between the World and Me - Ta-Nehisi Coates

35. Fun Home - Alison Bechdel

34. Citizen - Claudia Rankine

33. Salvage the Bones - Jesmyn Ward

32. The Line of Beauty - Alan Hollinghurst

31. White Teeth - Zadie Smith

30. Sing, Unburied, Sing - Jesmyn Ward

29. The Last Samurai - Helen DeWitt

28. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell

27. Americanah - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

26. Atonement - Ian McEwan

25. Random Family - Adrian Nicole LeBlanc

24. The Overstory - Richard Powers

23. Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage - Alice Munro

22. Behind the Beautiful Forevers - Katherine Boo

21. Evicted - Matthew Desmond

20. Erasure - Percival Everett

19. Say Nothing - Patrick Radden Keefe

18. Lincoln in the Bardo - George Saunders

17. The Sellout - Paul Beatty

16. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay - Michael Chabon

15. Pachinko - Min Jin Lee

14. Outline - Rachel Cusk

13. The Road - Cormac McCarthy

12. The Year of Magical Thinking - Joan Didion

11. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao - Junot Díaz

10. Gilead - Marilynne Robinson

9. Never Let Me Go - Kazuo Ishiguro

8. Austerlitz - W.G. Sebald

7. The Underground Railroad - Colson Whitehead

6. 2666 - Roberto Bolaño

5. The Corrections - Jonathan Franzen

4. The Known World - Edward P. Jones

3. Wolf Hall - Hilary Mantel

2. The Warmth of Other Suns - Isabel Wilkerson

1.  My Brilliant Friend - Elena Ferrante

What do you think?  What do you think they left out? Do you care?

Labor Day

(This is one of my favorite posts, every year. )

My Zaydeh was a paperhanger. So was his son, my uncle. They belonged to the Paperhanger's Union. When he retired, my Zaydeh got a lapel pin and a photograph of himself and the also-retiring Union Rep. The Union Rep got a pension and health insurance. No one knows if he got a copy of the photograph, too.

It was that kind of complicated relationship to Labor, with a capital L, that dominated my growing up years. Daddooooo's father owned a business. G'ma's father was a worker. That dynamic influenced their relationship in the same way that her parents' accented speech and his parents' religious devotion were there, bruising the edges of what must once have been love but wasn't anymore.

I sat on my Zaydeh's shoulders as he bounced me around the living room, singing Zum Gali Gali, a Zionist work song with one line, repeated over and over: the pioneer is meant for work; work is meant for the pioneer. When I needed a biography for a book report in second grade, G'ma suggested Eugene Debs. I was the only one in the class who wrote about the Wobblies, who knew that a Socialist ran for President from prison, who understood the plight of the working man.  It was communal, it was powerful, it was us-against-the-establishment, the entrenched, the people in our way.


There was a sense that he was on the right side of an argument I didn't know we were having.

Daddooooo inherited his father's shop, working alongside his brother and the cutters and pressers and seamstresses he'd known his entire life. He took care of the girls, the worker bees, the ones who created what he tried to sell. He struggled to make a success, and failed, and among those to blame were surely the Union Guys.

I didn't understand his anger. I'm not sure that he did, either.

We needed unions - the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire proved that protections were necessary and that management had no interest in protecting the welfare of the worker. Without collective action, nothing could be achieved. G'ma told me stories of her parents marching in Solidarity Parades, though never when Daddooooo was around to hear.  It wasn't worth giving him the chance to trash her parents' politics.

The battle between labor and management, waged over my kitchen table.

It's there, today, in discussions about the minimum wage and immigrant labor and teacher tenure. The answers don't come any easier, even six decades after Zum Gali Gali.

Stores are open, gyms and restaurants and car washes are welcoming my patronage, and it's Labor Day for crying out loud.  Let the workers go home and enjoy the last weekend of the summer.

A girl can dream......

The Yellow Bus

Mentioned by dkzody in a comment, after I'd read about it in the NYTimes Book Review, I took myself to Barnes and Noble and bought The Yellow Bus.

It's much better than Shel Silverstein's much lauded (and by me, much loathed) The Giving Tree.  The nasty boy turned to man just abuses and abuses that tree, and the tree just waits there and feels grateful to be helpful, even as there is less and less to give.  The protagonist never changes.  He just takes and takes.  My synopsis has always been hurt me, hurt me again, I'll be here the next time, too.

Ugh. 

 Loren Long has a different take on the whole altruism thing.  

Inspired by an abandoned school bus he passed while walking with his dog, Long imagined the history the bus must have lived.  He thought about the town in which it lived.  And then, with milk cartons and xacto knives and paper mache, he built a 10' model of the community he'd go on to draw in the book. 

His sons told him he was crazy.  Reading about the creation tells a different story, though.

Building it and painting it and then sketching it and painting the illustrations from it was, the NYTimes says , “the most fun I’ve had practically since junior high school.” 

It brought him joy.  

And for that yellow bus, all the changes and all the uses end the same way - by bringing joy.

It's a simple story with captivating images.  The verbiage is calmly repetitive. The town is drawn in shades of black and grey; the bus and those who use it are colorful and different and very interesting. It drew in the English language learners and two kindergarten classrooms; they were enchanted by the whole thing.

Joy is everywhere, I told them once, I realized that they might not have heard the word.  We practiced joy by making big...no, bigger...no, bigger smiles, by being the happiest we've ever been.

The Giving Tree leaves me feeling melancholy.  The Yellow Bus fills me with joy.

*****

I may have overstepped just a wee bit when I mentioned that they might have heard the word joy on tv.  I might have said that if they did, it might make them break out a big smile.  I might have said it didn't matter who said it.  Looking out at the multi-racial faces in front of me in each of the 3 rooms I've visited so far, it's possible that I said She might look like you.... or you..... or you....or He might be old, and look like me.... but it's still joy.

Just a little subversive, but also cluing them in to what's going on around them, which is not a bad thing if they are introduced to it through joy.  

If I'm asked, that's what I'll tell them.  

I probably won't mention that it brought me joy.

Drive Cycle Reset

Who knew that such a thing existed?  Certainly not TBG and I.

His 2014 BMW's dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree.  There were unusual rumblings from deep within the vehicle.  He called and was told to bring it in right now.  He did.  They worked on it for a day or two, reset the doohickey on the whatchamacallit, and all was well.  

Or so we thought.

The car drove beautifully.  TBG took his notice from the DMV to the Emissions Testing Center with a smile on his face.  He left 10 minutes later, with a deep frown.

Apparently, all that work at the dealership involved turning off certain important sensors and computers.  Those have to go through a Drive Cycle Reset in order for the car to be tested.  If the sensors aren't available to be tested the car has not failed the test; that would be something the Emissions Testing Center could help us with.  There are signs alerting us to that.

If the sensors aren't ready to be tested a Not Ready paper is produced.  No one is upset that this occurred.  Just drive it some more, on the highway and in town, and you'll be fine.

He did just that for a week.  Went back to the ETC. Still wasn't ready.

Rinse and repeat.  Three more times.  The last time, we drove with a print out from the interwebs with detailed instructions on resetting the drive cycle.  This included 0-50 from a dead stop, idling in gear, overrunning (letting the engine slow the car, not the brake), and a variety of slow down and speed up intervals that had me using the timer on my phone to be sure we met every specification.

It was a ridiculous but enjoyable afternoon.  Not so much the result today when, for the 4th time, the car was unready to be tested.  The technician was delightful and apologetic.  He'd seen this story before.  He had nothing to offer except condolences for the situation.  The office next door could have helped us if the car had failed, but not ready was not something they were equipped to handle.

Off to the dealership, which had nothing to offer, either.  Their Service Manager could drive the car around and try to reset it, but there were no guarantees.  The representative was awfully sorry.  So were we.

I am now waiting for the BMW Genius to reply to my email.  Perhaps there will be a solution. Perhaps not.  The problem is that the test must be completed in order to renew the car's registration, which expires on the 31st of this month.

He probably shouldn't drive the car with expired tags.  He can't reset the drive cycle unless he drives the car.  This is a conundrum. 

If the BMW Genius can't help us, he will just have to try not to let a police car get behind him and notice his 2024 tag.  If he's stopped, he has ream of paperwork in the car to explain the situation.

Fingers crossed............

Something New! - A Short Rant

I was perfectly happy with the grocery store's old credit card screen.  It did nothing to annoy me.  For the last two days, I've had to opt out of text messaging when I enter my phone number to insure I receive all the discounts I'm entitled to in exchange for sharing my purchasing habits.

And finding the opt out space is not easy.

It's new! chirped the cashier when I grimaced.

I am not interested in new.  I like old and familiar, like Tim Walz's flannel shirts.  

I do not want to be tempted by offers or enticed to spend more time doing something of marginal interest.  Google has a new feature that's announced in its own window, which appeared without my consent.  I do not want to learn how to search even deeper by clicking here and dragging there.

It's enough of a rabbit hole as it is.

As I live the last section of my life, I am content with what exists.  Maybe that old dog just didn't feel like learning any new tricks.

For today, at least, neither do I.

A Modern School Library (reposted where it belong!)

The scholars are chosen by their teachers.  Each room has a different set of requirements - some must be respectful, others responsible, others are chosen by the line leader of the day.  Four scholars from each room walk together from the cafeteria, ring the bell at the door, and are let into the library by the smiling, sunny, happy to see them librarian.

It's a wonderful space.

The College in Classrooms for the library is University of Hawaii.  The librarian thought that hot air balloons looked Hawaiian, hence the hanging decor.

A volunteer painted murals everywhere.  Here are two of them.

The books are divided by difficulty, by subject, by author, and by the Dewey Decimal System.  There's a Pete the Cat corner, a graphic novels section, and a scary books section

where I joined that scholar in that chair to read a scary chapter from a scary book.  Why is there a school underground in a graveyard? she wondered.  I had no answer except It's scary.

Libraries aren't quiet any more.  There are no SHHHH signs. It's a place for computing without distraction when the outside world is just too much.  

There is construction to be done, using inside voices only, please.

There are giant Uno cards, which were really hard to shuffle.

We dealt seven cards and wound up with all greens or all blues or all yellows.

It made for a lot of laughter.

There were new games, too.

Chinese checkers took too long to set up, but regular checkers were a game my grandpa plays with me.  It was quite unusual to find it in a library, but that didn't stop us from having a good time while the next group of scholars were told the rules.

When the sun is out and the heat is unbearable, I now have a new place to hang out with the scholars.  The librarian says I'm welcome any time.

Happy Anniversary to Us

49 years ago, TBG and I were driving away on our honeymoon.

That's a lot of years ago. t

The honeymoon car, Tars Tarkas, was a giant, green, used Pontiac with oversized shocks on the front (it's a long story).  Brother and others attached cans to the bumper and wrote appropriate slogans on the windows which drove TBG crazy and which I just adored.  

Over the years we've had forty-some cars, cars by Ford and Chevrolet, Honda and Mercedes, BMW and Ferrari, Porsche and Audi, with a random, quite unsatisfactory, Toyota thrown in just because. It wasn't quite G'ma's the ashtrays are dirty so you got a new car?..... but it was close.

Just shy of a half century later, we're driving eight year old, new to us, still in great shape vehicles that, like our marriage, just feel right.  

There's nothing I'd take in trade.  

DNC's Finale

There was laughter and there were tears.  There was an apology.  There was inspiration and there was love.  

I missed the memo about wearing white.  Apparently, the DNC texted the delegates about honoring the women's suffrage movement in that way.... and I was left wondering whether I would have packed anything white.

After Pink and her daughter, after gun violence survivors and Gabby Giffords (continuing to inspire after all these years), after Mark Kelly

My Congressman, Ruben Gallego, stood up for his fellow service members surrounded by veterans who happened to be Democratic elected officials.  The Big Gretch stared right into the camera and painted that man from Mar A Lago as an out of touch crazy person.  Eva Longoria worked at Wendy's... and look at us now.

Adam Kinzinger told his fellow Republicans you should be here, too.  He called out the vain, fragile. weak, weirdly obsessed with Putin person who was bent on destroying our democracy.  He's an A player, for sure.

Maya Harris is very proud of her big sister.  Roy Cooper is proud to call her a friend.  

The audience couldn't stop clapping and calling her name.  Ella and Doug were just a little teary.... just a little.

She started with The Golden Rule. 

Everyone has a right to dignity, to safety, and to justice. 

A harm against any one of us is a harm against all of us.  

After a litany of her opponent's sins, there was this - Simply put, they are out of their minds.

There was policy and there were promises, but her mother's advice seemed to encapsulate it for me -Don't do anything half assed.

There were too many balloons.  That's about the only complaint I can conjure up.  

Day 4 did not disappoint.  The party's over.  We are now free to enjoy our evenings in other ways.  

The End.

Day 3 of the DNC

Sister wants me to be sure to watch her candidate at 8:30 New Jersey time.  Seems like I'm not the only one in the family who's glued to the coverage.  

Cory Booker introduced the parents of a 23 year old Chicagoan held hostage in Gaza.  The room was silent and tearful and so were TBG and I.  This is not a political issue.  There are no winners when everyone is suffering. 

Voting is my black job read the pin on a Minnesotan.  

Stevie Wonder was Stevie Wonder, and I paused in the dinner prep to dance around a little.  Cory Booker said that the VIP's backstage were getting down, too.  

The Capitol Police officers were heartbreaking and inspiring and Sister's guy is Rep. Andy Kim who picked up a trash bag and got to work after the insurrectionists were ousted.  The ad outlining the January 6th debacle was devastating.  I sighed, knowing that it won't make much of a difference to the MAGA crowd.  

Bro, we broke up with you for a reason was Hakeem Jeffries big line during a litany of sins ending with we are never getting back together.  Then he moved on to the GOTV part of his remarks, promising Joy in the morning if we all got to work.

Bill Clinton has good hair.  He admitted to being old, but at 78 I'm still younger than DJT. 

Kamala would be the only President to have spent more time at McDonalds than I did.  

Don't count the lies.  Count the I's.  

The man may be old, with a tremor in his fingers and a quavering voice, but he can hold a crowd and make a point and leave 'em laughing.  

Nancy Pelosi is six years older than Bill and comports herself as ten years younger.  She's a professional politician and that was on full display.... along with her disgust over January 6th.  

Kamala's niece and nephew and godson were adorable.  The California congressional candidate did a lot of yelling that seemed to energize the crowd but made us turn down the volume. Her brother in law thinks she is swell.  

Nevada's Latina Senator and Pennsylvania's Jewish governor..... just typing that made me stop for a while and think about what an amazing idea America is.  Democracy is not a spectator sport was on a t-shirt; this convention never misses an opportunity to talk about the work ahead. 

Amanda Gorman is fabulous.  The American dream is a dare... to dream together.

Oprah really likes America and the audience loved Oprah.  They liked Wes Moore, but not as much.

I love Pete, always have, always will.  He's realistic and optimistic and though he looks sort of ridiculous rallying the crowd by waving his arms and shouting, his message is crystal clear - his life was impossible 25 years ago.  We won't go back.

John Legend was awesome... at 11pm on the East Coast.  Auntie M is staying up much later than usual.

Amy Klobuchar's introduction of Tim Walz reminded me how much I like her..... and then his state champion football players came out on stage and all hell broke loose.  A video confirmed Tim Walz's midwestern, middle class, good neighbor credentials and his remarks were further proof.  

While they were banishing books in their schools, we were busy providing breakfast and lunch to every school kid.

It's pretty amazing that somebody's next door neighbor is the Democrats' nominee for VP.  There were a lot of people hugging him on stage when he finished; who they were remains a mystery, even to the MSNBC reporter who talked to them.  They seemed remarkably normal.

The pep talk left the audience dancing and cheering.  TBG and I were smiling. 

Day 3 went very well.

DNC Day Two

It was more of the same, with a snarkier edge.  

JB Pritzker took on the biggest brag - Take it from a real billionaire, you're not one.

VP Harris took Gov. Walz to Milwaukee, filling the arena to the rafters.  Trump's failure to fill the seats in that same arena last week has become a meme.

Bernie Sanders leaned into the Commie Kamala epithet, addressing the audience as Brothers and Sisters.

Stephanie Grisham took us behind the scenes, revealing that the Republican nominee for President of the United States refers to his supporters as basement dwellers.

The Mesa, Arizona mayor said we all need a grown-up in the White House.

Tammy Duckworth's fabulous prostheses got her to the podium where she called out a 5 time draft dodging coward in her first ten words and ended with Lieutenant Bonespurs ten minutes later.

Doug Emhoff is a guy I wanna have over for dinner.  The delegate wearing a Jews for Mommala cap and the one sporting a Doug for First Mensch t-shirt made me giggle.

Michelle Obama spoke about the demons in America, but only in passing.  She spoke about love and justice and her mother and your mother and responsibility, and she was eloquent.  But she could have been reading the phone book..  

There were no distracted eyeballs.  There was no one scrolling on a phone.  The delegates' faces were filled with awe and joy.  There were tears and cheers.  The woman commanded the room.

She made the word escalator tell a whole story.  

Who's gonna tell him the job he's currently seeking is one of those black jobs?  

America, our parents taught us better than that!

She's a hard act to follow, but the gracefully aging 44th President didn't do a bad job of it.  Using his hands to talk about djt's weird obsession with crowd size got a knowing laugh.  He admired Tim Walz's flannel shirts. He faux lamented now that it's popular they don't call it Obamacare any more

He went a little Aaron Sorkin, a little community organizer, a lot elder statesman. He is America's biggest cheerleader, seeing the best in each of us and encouraging us to see it, too.  

In a hospital room in 2011, he looked me in the eyes and asked me to see our better angels, to not give up on America and Americans.  Tonight, he did the same to America.  

Day 2 went well.

The DNC, or How Hillary Made Me Cry

We watched it from the beginning.  It got better as it went along.

What struck us most was how well it was run.  None of the speeches were overlong.  The signs were coordinated with the speakers.  The messages followed a pattern - thanking Joe Biden, tackling one issue that VP Harris will fix, and exhorting everyone to work to get out the vote.  They each were given a key phrase to use.  

It was strangely comforting.

Jamie Raskin called it the Democracy Convention.  The UAW President called Trump a scab. Kamala's childhood best friend thinks she's peachy keen.  

The Walz's and Doug Emhoff showed up.  So did the candidate herself, much to the obvious surprise of everyone, including the Walz's and her husband.  

Texas Representative Jasmine Crockett glittered and alliterated.  

The reproductive rights speeches had us in tears.  The personal became public and it was necessary and heartbreaking.  Andy Beshear put the policy to the stories.

Raphael Warnock was speaking when I looked at the chyron - it was 10pm in Chicago.  There were more speakers before Joe Biden would take the podium.  I started to worry about him.  I hoped he took a nap today; I did.

Chris Coons started the Biden love fest.  Jill Biden, in a slinky, sparkly, blue dress, loved on her husband and America and Democrats.  Ashley Biden made it very clear that she is very proud of her father.  Their hug had us a little teary.... and then Joe wiped his eye with a tissue and I completely lost it.

He looked tan and awake (maybe he did take that nap) and though he tried to calm them down the crowd kept on cheering.  He loves Jill and his family and America, and as the crowd kept cheering I couldn't help comparing his words to the nasty, divisive, blather on the other side.  An America where hate has no safe harbor is a message we should all be able to get behind.

Our President went on a little too long.  TBG likened it to Frederic March at the end of Inherit the Wind, but I had a hard time faulting him.  It was his swan song.  

Everybody Biden/Harris related gathered on stage to wave goodbye, including a very cute little one in a tuxedo holding Grandpa's hand as they were the last ones to leave the stage.... except for the Secret Service.  

I'd say Day One went well.  

Oh, I almost forgot about Secretary Clinton.  

I've never been a fan, but her DNC speech made a dent in my distaste.  She spoke at length, with passion, subtly referencing her own experiences as she predicted the future.  Her pain was evident, and so was her joy when she began to talk about the world she envisioned for her granddaughters and their granddaughters beyond the glass ceiling.

When she was finished, I looked over at TBG.  We were both somewhat abashed. Wiping away an errant tear or two, we admitted out loud that we'd witnessed a real moment, a true passing of the torch.  She'd touched us.

It's nice to know that my opinions are not entirely set in stone.  

Late Summer Blooms

The roses are making another splash before retiring for a while.  Most of the blooms were blown off in the monsoons last week, but the rock roses shielded by the pony wall in the front survived.

The crepe myrtle self seeded a baby which is currently outshining its parent.

Looking across the driveway to where JannyLou and Fast Eddie used to live, the purple Texas Rangers compete with the Mexican Bird of Paradise for attention. 

The barrel cacti come in all shapes and sizes and colors.  These were the last ones open late this afternoon

Our giant saguaro died a lingering death, 

its smaller arms crashing through branches of its nurse tree, an equally ancient specimen.  

When the situation became dangerous to the tree and those bushes surrounding it, The Handyman brought his tools of destruction and collection and left us with two skeletons 

and a cleaned up front yard.  

Those saguaros are filled with organic material that decomposes over time and enriches the soil.  That material is yellow and nearly solid before it turns black and crumbly.  Some was raked into my yard, but most of it was blown and swept and raked and shoveled away.

We are all set up for a beautiful transition into the Fall.  And yes, we really do have seasons.

One Word

I feel like I'm getting my country back, day by day.  I used to feel part of a shrinking minority - regular people who wanted regular things - and suddenly I'm finding out that there are lots of Republicans for Harris.  And Evangelical Christians for Harris.  And Deadheads for Harris.

Corey Lewandowski rejoining the Republican campaign is being reported with disdain, not fawning interviews.  There was little to no coverage of the rambling nonsense outside Bedminster Country Club this afternoon, although there were many ironic shots of the man standing next to grocery products on a folding table in front of the majestic doors none of his flock could ever afford to enter. 

I feel a gentle swing away from the fetishizing of his absurdities; the talking heads refer to him as boring. As America discovers what he's planning,  thanks to the Democrats' drip-drip-dripping Project 2025 details into the mainstream, the moral arc of the universe seems to be bending back towards the good.  

Of course, he knows nothing about it and disagrees with some of it.  That this is a recurring theme on the admittedly biased tv in our house makes me very happy.  

It took Tim Walz to announce that the Emperor has no clothes.  And all it took was one word.

Because it's true, the bully is weird, and calling him on it is guaranteed to diminish him.

How Is This Possible?

This will be a short rant, because I don't want to spend too much time in this space, but I need to tell somebody.....

Our Xfinity bill is set up on auto-pay.  The credit card has a high limit; we never come close.  The expiration date is years away.

How, then, could last month's bill be late? 

I posed that question to the AI Assistant.  It couldn't help me.  I rephrased the situation and wound up at the same screen which was close-but-no-cigar to where I wanted to be.

I tried on the app with the same results.

I called on the phone.  There were no options which were relevant to my situation.  Saying Representative and Agent and HELP!! accomplished nothing.

This month's bill is due tomorrow.  It should be interesting to see what shows up on my Xfinity Dashboard.

Thanks for listening.  

The Garden Is Open

I braved the heat and the relentless sunshine, fortified by the world's biggest and most delicious blueberry buttermilk pancake.

I helped out at lunchtime with the kindergarteners and the 3rd graders, opening milk containers and bags of chips and comforting a big girl who missed her mommy.  We agreed that being homesick is tough, that she could hang out with me in the garden, that keeping busy was the best remedy and by that time the secret was out - The Garden Is Open!

I had a lot of weeds.  Luckily, I had a lot of helpers.

Being sure to grab most of the roots was very important, and a close analysis was often necessary.

The girls were bemused that the weeds were covering their shoes.  These were not as easy to remove as were the untamed growth in the raised beds.  We agreed to ask the Landscaping Crew to help us out.

I lasted for 90 minutes before the sun began to take its toll.  

It was a good first day.  There are many more to follow. We have soil to amend, planters to refill and replace, irrigation to be organized, ollas built and planted along with seeds and seedlings.... once the soil is cooler.... and Grandma is more comfortable.