Happiness. It's relative.
Our dog, Swirl, is out of the woods. This, according to today’s blood test to assess his kidney function after eating twenty Ibuprofen on Wednesday. He looks fine and hasn’t eaten anything odd since. But that’s what he does – goes for days or weeks minding his own business and then suddenly eats the knobs off a dresser or a full tube of toothpaste. There’s no predicting, hence dog-proofing the house is very challenging. The whole scary episode reminded me again of the peril of loving a dog.
A long time ago, when we had zero money, we would dress up in costumes on New Year’s Eve, the rule being we could use only what we could find in the house. One year I dressed up as Pablo Picasso but the resemblance was so disturbing that I’ve deep-sixed the photo that would provide proof. Our daughter dressed up as Gandhi one year, coming down to dinner swathed in white sheets. The magic was in the rattling and rummaging through the house that went on while everyone constructed their look. I loved it. I think it’s a tradition that ought to be resurrected tomorrow – just the two of us. What the hell.
I think I should do more but then I remember how old I am. It bothers me that I am not going to events or volunteering or going on street outreach. It hit home today when I read in the morning paper that Wisconsin’s emergency field hospital for Covid will only accept people ages 18-70. There always has to be a cut-off point, I guess. Hello from the other side.
People who are afraid of everyone voting should go fuck themselves. To think that I used to stick up for Republicans, you know, defend the idea that people might have a different point of view about how to run the country, be more confident in the free market to right all wrongs, that sort of thing, all of that seems unimaginable now. Republicans want to keep people from voting so they will win. It’s sickening and despicable.
I testified. I’m no wienie but I have to admit that testifying at a public hearing can give me the willies. Not so, tonight. I sat in my beloved office and read my piece to the Milwaukee County Board at its annual budget hearing. Spend less money on law enforcement and more on people, right the funding wrongs imposed by a Republican legislature on the City of Milwaukee, and do your best for older adults. Three points. Always three. That’s the magic. That, and do what you promise, elected officials, have my back.
That is horrifying about the age limit for the field hospital.
Yeah. It kind of stopped me short, that’s for sure. Oh well, right?
Thank you for testifying. All good points.
This past week I went to drop my mail ballot at the drop box only to discover there wasn’t one. Of course, Texas. I was told I could take it inside to in-person voting and they would accept it. WTF I thought. Why would I do that when the line’s not long and I can vote in person? So I did. All precautions were taken and it was very safe and pleasant.
In past years I have voted for some Republicans in local elections (only). Some were even friends, insomuch as Republican can be a friend to anyone. This year I did not vote for a single Republican and as I stood there at the voting booth and tapped the icon next to the Democratic candidate’s name, I fixed my eyes on the Republican name and muttered louder than is appropriate in polite circles, “F*k you. And you. And you.” I was asked if I needed help. “Nope,” says I. “I’m done. I’m all done.”
Good for you, Jan!
good news!