Redeem the work of fools

It's All Saints Day and we’re at the final Friday before the election. I confess that my anxiety level has been at Defcon4 for about the past month. There seems to be nothing—no act of indecency, no whackadoodle promise, no vulgarity—that will sway the Kleptocrat’s followers from the descent into insanity, so now it’s up to the non-cultists to set this train onto the track of reasonable, democratic government instead of the express to fascist autocracy that he’s openly declared he’ll install.

We the people have to get this done, despite our opponents firebombing ballot dropboxes, culling voter rolls days before the election (we’ll remember this, SCOTUS, as we do all the other rulings), engaging in voter intimidation at the polling places and refusing to let DOJ monitors observe the process. If they’re that terrified now, we have to give them the biggest scare ever: a landslide victory for Democrats all up and down the ballot.

They'll still scream RIGGED and try to steal it, but it'll be much harder for them to succeed.

So my earworm today is “People Have the Power”, by Patti Smith. Crank up the volume.

©2024 Bas Bleu

 

That time of year

This time of year, people around the world think about things like the triumph of light over darkness, good over evil, life over death.

Today—the holiday you know as Halloween—is also the Celtic holiday Samhain. It marks the bringing in of the harvest and the envelopment of the world in winter darkness. And tonight the wall between this world and the next is more frangible, and it’s a time for lighting protective and cleansing bonfires as the living and dead commune.

Today is also el Día de Muertos in the Mexican tradition, when the living open their lives to the dead, who are celebrated with sugar skulls, favorite foods and drink, both in the home and via picnics at cemeteries. The celebration runs through tomorrow (All Saints Day, in the Catholic Church) and Saturday, All Souls Day, which essentially carry on the Celtic tradition.

One of my favorite holidays starts tonight. That would be Diwali, when Hindus celebrate a number of events where princes of light and good slapped down princes who would envelope the world in darkness and evil. I find it interesting that this whole good/evil thing was not one-and-done; evildoers are always trying it on, so we have to be alert, strong and brave.

This seems particularly apt, given the election surrounding us in the United States—so clearly a fight between light and darkness, between hope and hate, between building a future and lighting a fuse to nihilism.

One part of the Diwali tradition involves lights—candles, fairy lights, fireworks, the whole spectrum—and I definitely can get behind that.

This year, for the first time, I noticed that Costco is selling Diwali fireworks. Because of course. And also, because why not?

(Another one is the sharing of sweets, which I also endorse.)

So, tonight—more than other nights—I’ll amass candles on my dinner table and consider how we in these times can turn back the darkness. I'm grateful for the reminder that, while the struggle goes on, we always have another opportunity to vanquish evil.

 

©2024 Bas Bleu

 

Lights but no action

We now come to the illuminated portion of Halloween in the People’s Republic. It’s not actually that impressive. Basically, two entries.

We got this one:

And this effort of Jack o’Lanterns lining a walkway.

What I find interesting about this is that they used some kind of fairy lights that have lasted for more than a week.

Also—I’m rather amazed that the squirrels haven’t chewed away at the open pumpkins. I wonder if they sprayed some kind of squirrel repellant on them?

If so—maybe they’ll tell me what they used.

 

 

©2024 Bas Bleu

 

Scary out there

While the denizens of the People’s Republic don’t seem to get as excited about Halloween as those of The Valley They Call Silicon, they do represent, albeit in a smaller way.

My nextdoor neighbor started last month.

(Look: they're quiet and they don't play the radio loud, so I'm fine with them.)

She rearranged the pair, gave the spider some web and repurposed one of the snakes.

A couple of weeks later, another neighbor joined the chat. Notice the dogs—they represent all the members of the household.

The toad was just something one of the residents couldn’t resist at Michael’s.

There are also the usual graveyards and such.

I still don’t know who’s buying the monsters I saw last month at Lowe’s.

©2024 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: Vaxed to the max

Last week I decided I could no longer put off getting my seasonal vaccinations—for flu and COVID. So I made an appointment for them both on Wednesday. I generally do not react badly to flu shots and the only COVID inoculation that bothered me was the third one in the first series, so I figured I’d be fine.

Well. It’s been interesting.

(BACKGROUND: When I moved back to the District They Call Columbia, I could not believe how difficult it was to find a primary care practice. For a city that boasts three medical schools, you’d have thought there’d be a surfeit of them, but it took me months (and a couple of false starts) before I landed on OneMedical. A quasi-concierge concept headquartered in San Francisco, the attraction for me was that, for a $200 annual fee, I could be seen at any OneMed office by any OneMed provider, get same-day appointments, spend 20 minutes with the doctor per appointment (as opposed to the 15 minutes most insurance-driven practices) and develop an actual relationship. The bonus was that there was an office two blocks from my job at Metro Center. Eventually they opened offices closer to me in the People’s Republic, so I was happy.)

I showed up for my appointment to be told by the lab tech that “they” had put an order for the regular flu dose. I need the high-dose vaccine and I’d specified that when I made the appointment online.

In fact, their portal prompted me for the high-dose version, which makes sense—I’ve been getting this since I started with OneMedical. And it’s not rocket science—even pharmacies twig that I get high-dose.

CVS: You’ll want the high-dose shot.

Me: Yes.

CVS: Yeah—we don’t have any.

Well, it got worse. The lab tech couldn’t put in an order herself to change the dosage; the two people associated with my care (neither of whom I’ve seen, as the person I was seeing left the practice six months ago) were out of office—one until 8 November, the other till 1 November. The tech messaged others on the medical team, but got no response. So she gave me the COVID booster and said she’d contact me when they got the flu thing sorted.

It was clearly some kind of system thing—to do with the protocols set up for dispensing vaccines. Amazon bought OneMedical about a year ago and it occurred to me that they might have had some of their geniuses messing with the software. But this is just speculation.

Still, it was annoying. Thursday morning I was just sitting down to write a nastygram asking why it is that I could see anyone in the practice on a couple of hours’ notice, but they couldn’t find someone to authorize the correct dose—especially since I’d specified that when I made the appointment using their own systems—when I saw an email in my queue saying they’d got it sorted and I could drop in at any time to get the shot.

So I got it on Thursday. And Friday when they sent me the “how did we do” survey email, they did not get a good Net Promoter Score. (They also emailed to invite me to leave a Google review. I replied, “You seriously do not want me leaving a public review.”)

The other interesting thing is how I reacted to the COVID vaccine. (This one was Moderna; all the others I’ve got have been Pfizer. Dunno if this is salient.)

This was Thursday morning. You can see how inflamed the area around the injection is. That was tender, the shoulder joint was sore and I was achy. It was hard to raise my arm and I couldn’t clasp hands behind my back. Also—I got completely exhausted. Both Thursday and Friday I had to lie down in the afternoon to rest. And it’s not like I was running marathons or anything.

The injection area was still inflamed on Sunday, and it also itched like crazy. (The flu site is tender, but not inflamed.)

However—in the global scheme of things, this is small potatoes. Despite the corporate glitching and the physiological hiccups, I am now set for flu and COVID season, and I am grateful for that. Even ifall it took two trips to get it done.

 

©2024 Bas Bleu