Civic duty

Since I’m unable to register to vote in the Old Dominion (can’t get a driver’s license because the name on my Social Security card doesn’t quite match what’s on my passport, so I’m spending a long time considering whether I ever want to vote in this Confederate state), I want to be sure everything’s copacetic with my registration in California. So I called the Santa Clara County Registrar of Voters yesterday to check.

Good thing, since—as I hadn’t voted in June’s primary election—I’d been moved to inactive on the electoral rolls. After a lengthy conversation with someone at the SCC office (their website could use some work), I have the form needed to update my mailing address, so I’ll be good to vote by mail come November.

I’m in a safely Democratic House district in the Valley They Call Silicon (as I am here in the People’s Republic; if I weren’t, I might make a more concerted effort to register here), but this year’s gubernatorial election is dicey, what with the kleptocrat messing in on behalf of whatever crackpot RWNJ is running as a Repugnant. So my vote will matter.

I also messaged a heads-up to one of my colleagues who—like me—has retained his California driver’s license even though he and his wife have been in the Old Dominion for three years. If they haven’t voted since 2016, they also might be moved to inactive, and I wanted to make sure they’re able to get their vote-by-mail ballots.

So, with my civic duty discharged for the moment, I can return to making campaign donations to Dems around the country, because when it comes to those spineless, corrupt, know-nothing Repugnant Ante-Bellum throwbacks currently befouling legislatures, it’s time to #votethemout.

Shaken, not stirred

The Washington Post food section did a story on boozy ice cream drinks last week. The opening gambit was something called the Pink Squirrel, which allegedly hails from Milwaukee. (WaPo never reveals the recipe for this drink, but you can find a flock of them here. Basically—crème de cacao, crème de noyaux, cream and ice, shaken like crazy. I’d be up for trying it except I’ve no doubt that the Confederacy’s liquor stores don’t carry the crème de noyaux.)

Well, when I lived in Milwaukee, I noticed they were big on drinks that involved liqueurs, cream and ice cream. It was practically impossible to end a meal anywhere without a Brandy Alexander (and Wisconsin was the largest consumer of brandy in the country; they regularly substituted brandy for whiskey in drinks like Whiskey Sours and Old Fashioneds). At the time I wasn’t all that enthused by cream-based drinks, although I’m sure I drank way more Drambuie during my years there than was healthy. Drambuie was what I’d have while friends were Brandy Alexandering.

Well, but one night, at some place on the South Side, the barman asked if we’d like a Raggedy Ann, which turned out to be (as I recall) crème de cacao, peppermint schnapps and vanilla ice cream, mixed in a milkshake post mixer. (Aside: I forgot to mention that peppermint schnapps was Wisconsinites’ other go-to beverage. I once went to a Wisconsin-Purdue football game played at Lafayette. At the end of the game, we waded through peppermint schnapps bottles on the Badger side of the stadium.)

Well—this wasn’t bad; not bad at all. I might have had two. (My capacity was greater back then.)

There was also a Raggedy Andy, which I think had crème de cacao and possibly crème de banane with ice cream. I am not fond of bananas in any form (except fried plantains), so I stuck with Raggedy Ann.

I still have my bottle of crème de cacao, with its Wisconsin tax seal intact, which I have schlepped to about five states and a foreign country. The peppermint schnapps appears to have disappeared; I might have used it in baking. I’ll have to see if the Confederate Booze Shop has any.

Okay, I’ve searched the interwebz for both of these drinks, and cannot find them. So, if I want to recreate the boozy ice cream drink of my youth, I-I’ll have to experiment. You know—mix one, taste, adjust, repeat. Hmm.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Restoration work

As reported here, almost two months ago, I experienced a flood of not-quite biblical proportions in my living room. It’s taken all this time of backing and forthing to finally square away a solution, but I am finally on the way to having my living room restored.

First of all we had to determine the cause—it seemed to be way too much water (it seeped up through the boards as you walked on them) to have been caused by my neighbor’s ice maker leak. Eventually the condo management company installed a new drain from the downspout between our two units, and there’s been no recurrence of interior water since then.

So, then I had to arrange for contractors to come out—through the condo management company, of course. Their fault, their contractors. The flooring guy came out, took measurements, and assured me at least six times in 20 minutes that they don’t do subfloors. So someone else needed to come out.

There was a bit of a kerfuffle because the condo people thought someone who turned out to be an architect was the right person to assess the situation. But—after he returned from two weeks holidaying out of the country (lucky him), I finally got the mold remediation people out last week to estimate the work.

Well, to shorten this story, as I write this, the entire ground floor is suffused with the smell of what I imagine are highly toxic chemicals, and industrial-strength dehumidifiers set at wind tunnel strength are making it impossible for me to engage in anything that requires hearing anything.

This will be me until Friday, LHR T3. Then they return to take back their kit, and I can schedule the flooring people.

Yay!

Creepy crawlers

As long as we're discussing insects, I’ve seen a lot of these caterpillars around the People’s Republic. They’re very active—by which I mean, they always seem to be on the move. And they strike me as being a little…menacing.

I have the feeling that they’re not going to turn into butterflies.

Gratitude Monday: wings in the air

Early in the summer—well, maybe around May, early June—I saw a lot of fireflies. From the first stage of dusk up until around 2100, they flitted around the patio.

But they gradually faded—perhaps their season had passed for the year. Now I’m noticing dragonflies on my sojourns out of the air conditioning. They’re too fast for me to capture on video, but I can’t look at one without smiling. There’s something about dragonflies…

However, I’ve been able to capture a few bees going about their business, pollinating flowers and generally doing good.

Bees also fill me with happiness. So today I’m grateful for the insects that light the evening, decorate the air and keep the plant kingdom humming.