Stand my ground

Citizens have been voting early in record numbers this year; we’re voting like our lives depend upon it.

 So we should have a bit of the cram-it-clownie spirit for today’s earworm, the final Friday before official Election Day. I was thinking about Dr. Loco and his Rockin’ Jalapeño Band’s “¡Muévete!”, because move on is what we’re about to do. But it’s a little arcane for right now. Then there’s Tracey Chapman’s “Talkin’ about a Revolution”; but it’s not quite got the beat I want.

No, I think Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers fill the bill with “I Won’t Back Down”. Crank up the volume.

And vote. Our lives depend upon it.

 

 

Winterized

The People’s Republic branch of the Fairfax County Public library has a few sculptures in its forecourt. I noticed a while ago that this one has been given a winter addition.

What’s really interesting is that the scarf has stayed up there for at least a couple of weeks. Perhaps a kinder, gentler era is upon us?

 

 

 

Staycay report

My vacation so far, shaped to a certain extent by the rainy weather: 

Monday I filled the car with petrol, so if I decide to pop into town, I’m good. I also did a spot of grocery shopping and rescheduled my December dental appointment. (I’d have been fine except my dentist has been called for jury duty.)

(This time, I promise I’ll pay attention to the patient instructions. Last time, I picked up the voice mail reminding me of the appointment and just thought, “Oh, right.” I didn’t listen to the whole voicemail, and it turns out there’s a protocol for numbers of patients, which I violated. I was a moron.)

On my way home, I stopped by the library to pick up a book on hold. Someone’s got the Poirot franchise from Agatha Christie’s estate. I’m not sure yet how much I like it, but it’s such a luxury to read in the afternoon on a weekday.

I also had quite the yoga session. By the end, both my instructor’s cat and I were quite worn out. But it was a good worn out.

Dinner on Monday was Italian; I have to say that both the scampi and the tiramisu were somewhat pedestrian. But it was a place I haven’t been to before, and you’re not going to hit it out of the park every time.

Yesterday I went over to Vienna to get my flu shot at that branch of my primary care practice. (I am not going into downtown DC unless I have to.) I ran into a glass wall on my way out—just did not see it, and I wasn’t even fiddling with my mobile phone. I was looking at the markings on the floor for social distancing and the first thing I knew was the THONK sound and my glasses scrunching against my face.

(Fortunately, they did not break. They cost about $1K, even with insurance, so that would have been catastrophic. Glad I sprang for the crash-resistant lenses.)

So now I have a shiner and know what the birds who fly into my patio door feel like.

After that, I tried to find some pumpernickel flour at the Vienna Whole Foods, but no luck. Imma have to order that online.

I also walked the labyrinth, which always improves my outlook; even when I’m bleeding above my eye. (I heard the ducks on the pond, but this time they didn’t join me.) Pro tip: avoid Holy Comforter around noon on weekdays; that’s when the child care lets out and the parking lot fills up with ginormous SUVs.

Last thing I did was collect my Persian supper. Then home to read some more. I’ve also started listing all my annual medical expenses, so I can estimate what to do about an HSA. Also started the information/advice process on refinancing the house and the process for sorting the wiring in the kitchen.

So, on the whole, I’ve really enjoyed this time. It’s not Sorrento in the spring, but it’s a good mix of getting stuff done and just hanging. Except for the shiner. I could have done without that.

 

 

Man of the house

Ladies and gentlemen: allow me to introduce Cedric: 

I finally broke down on Prime Day and ordered a Roomba. I’ve been wanting one for bleepin’ ever.

Cedric and I are getting to know one another, and I have to dredge out the password to my wi-fi network to get him to operate optimally. (Also—man, but you have to lift all the cords and cables out of his way so he doesn’t get all bolixed up in them.) The other day I closed him up in a bedroom where I wanted him to concentrate his efforts. I forgot about him and then wondered about all the bumping sounds I was hearing in that direction; for a while I wondered what my neighbor was up to until I remembered he was at work.

When I announced my desire some time ago on Facebook, I said that I wanted one that could also mop and climb up on the furniture to dust. My friend, the Viking Maiden, laughed and said, “That’s a maid!”

Well, she’s right—and Cedric does not mop. But he’s a start.

 

 

 

 

Gratitude Monday: time away

Here’s today’s gratitude for me: I am officially on PTO, and I’m off work until Election Day. It’s been a long haul, the past few months; we got our new platform launched, and it’s going well. But I am so looking forward to being away from it all.

There a lot of things I need to get done: flu shot; refinance the house so I don’t give another penny to Wells Fargo (my mortgage got sold on twice within a year of me buying the place); set up the replacing of my AC and furnace (not this week; they can do it while I’m back in the saddle); get electricians out to add outlets in the kitchen and estimate the LOE (level of effort—and cost) of breaking my kitchen into two circuits; select the coming year’s benefits; etc.

But I’m also doing things I’d be doing if I were traveling, even though I can’t travel. I'm reading past my bedtime. I’m treating myself to three yoga lessons instead of the usual one. (I’d get a manicure, except last week I snapped one of my nails off right at the nail bed.) Go to parks and spend a lot of time walking and observing. And eating lovely meals that I don’t have to cook (or clean up after).

Saturday I got sushi from Yoko Sushi. Yesterday, it was entrecôte au poivre from Café Montmartre. Tonight I’m thinking something Persian. Dunno yet about tomorrow, but on Wednesday I’ve got my eye on bouillabaisse from L’Auberge Chez François.

Notifications are off and I am just living in the moment. I’m so grateful to have an employer and team of colleagues who allow—even encourage—this. Peace out.

 

 

IZ

I think—less than two weeks out from the presidential election, with more crap coming from the Rs than an entire industrial pig farm—we could use something inspirational for our Friday music. So let’s have Israel Kamakawiwoʻole’s stunning “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”.

You’re welcome

 

 

Alea iacta est

I really do not like waiting in line. Back when China sent two pandas to Los Angeles to celebrate the ’84 Olympics, a friend and I went to the zoo specifically to see pandas. But when we got there the line was past a marker that said, “At this point you are 4 hours to pandas”. I turned to my friend and said, “I would not wait four hours for the second coming of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. 

So I’ve been really stressing over voting. Fairfax County’s “satellite” early voting stations only are open from 1300-1900, which is not a schedule I appreciate. But not voting in this election is simply not an option.

So yesterday I pulled up my big-girl pants and went over to the station in the People’s Republic, getting there at 1230. The line was not terrifically long—maybe about 80-100 people. I was fully kitted out: voter registration card, passport, utility bill (remember—courtesy of Virginia DMV, I still do not have a local driver’s license), umbrella, book, water; it was like I was going camping.

In the end, it only took me about 40 minutes after the polls opened. I cast my vote(s) and my ballot has been processed. I’d have waited longer—whatever it takes—although, in retrospect, not having put on sun block (it’s been a while since I’ve spent any time outside in mid-day) may have been a mistake. Still worth it, though.

 

 

 

Flicker

A while ago, I noticed that one of my, uh, suggestive IKEA candles was…well, is it guttering?

You know--the part where it starts wildly varying in its reach for the heavens; usually just before it goes out. The flame was just really flickering, which made the light behind the wax interesting. So, of course I’m sharing with you.

 

 

 

Wrong-wine guys

So, this had me laughing much of the afternoon. 

There’s a thread on Twitter, in response to Ron Johnson, the moron representing Wisconsin in the Senate, going on Fox to claim (evidence-free) that there’s going to be child porn found on the hard drive that allegedly belonged to Hunter Biden. His disclaimer to avoid prosecution for libel was, “Well, the voters should know.”

A couple of samples:

But this one prompted me to reply:

“I feel like a La Romanée-Conti is the wrong wine to accompany a face-pizza. Which does tend to add a level of truth to your account. Ron seems like a wrong-wine kind of guy to me.”

But Rogue’s reply was what cracked me up:

 

I mean: yeah.

There's another thread going: which state has the worst Senators (and the best, but, really, no one cares about them)? Kentucky, with McConnell and Paul, was in a dead heat with Florida, with Rubio and Scott. But Florida's governor kind of tips the scales overall.

God bless the Twitters-dot-com.

 

 

Gratitude Monday: dusk and fire

I first noticed Friday’s sunset because the sky of solid cloud to the South and East was suffused with pink, so I walked to the patio to check whether I was seeing things. No—all pale pink, kind of like a Tate painting. 

But then, through the trees to the West, it was a glorious canvass of intense blues splotched with fiery pink-red-gold clouds, and I just stood there, taking it in. I didn’t even bother reaching for my camera; I just stood in that transition period and gave thanks for its beauty.

I still am today.