Preparing for doomsday, Part 2

And by the way, if you don't want checks and balances restored, then you'd better convince me how we will make American great again by being ignorant of, or ignoring, or destroying one of its founding principles.

Preparing for doomsday

I have realized that it is not the corona virus I need to prepare myself for, although Sweet Hubby and I did make sure today that we have enough of our meds and St. Croix.  What I and my loved ones (and that includes you) need to prepare ourselves for is the very real possibility of another four years of Trump.  It's a terrifying prospect.  He would be so unleashed this time; I have little doubt he would find a way to start a war and blame the other guy and be applauded by his followers.   Four more years of more political chaos, of all this stunning, breathtaking, gleeful hypocrisy and ignorance.  I'm not sure how I will stand it. 
Something I have never heard anyone say is, "Mr. Trump, every President has been subject to Article 2 of the Constitution.  Are you saying that Obama could do whatever he wanted to?  And Clinton?  God forbid, George W. Bush (who almost did do whatever he wanted, with the permission of Congress, and they should all now be writhing in their sleep at the wickedness they've done, the wars they've started, the lives wasted.  Are you wishing now that you had had an exit strategy, Mr. Bush, as so many of us begged you to have?  Are you proud of the hatred for this country that you have sown?)?  You, Mr. Trump, are not special in this regard, and Article 2 does not, in fact allow you to do anything you want.  The authors of the Constitution were trying to escape the rule of a king, not create it.
Besides preparing ourselves emotionally for the coming term, besides being as politically active as our schedules and consciences allow, we must not must not let ourselves fall into despair and cynicism.  That's a win for the wrong team.  We must be strong and stay kind and seek to heal the wounds that are being inflicted by all the current ugliness.  We must take the very long view of history and see that political malignancy didn't start here, and the government and this country won't end here.  And foremost, we must take back the Senate so there can be checks and balances again.  We can be saved, but we must do the saving.

This and That

I never know what to do with clothes I've worn for one day.  Usually they're not dirty enough to go into the laundry, but I don't like to put them back in the closet or dresser because they're also not exactly pristine.  So I often wear the same clothes for several days in a row.  Is that weird?  Is it weird that I wonder if it's weird?
I do change my underwear, by the way.  Just so you know.

I'm one of those people who truly despise cilantro.  And it's not even that I don't like it; it's much stronger than that.  I can taste even the tiniest flake of cilantro in any food, and find it gageous.  (Gaggeous?  Gaggy-ous?  You get the idea.)  It must be a chemical reaction with my tongue, some enzyme cilantro has that no other food has.  And no, I don't think it tastes like soap, which is what most people seem to assume I think it tastes like.  For one thing, I don't eat soap, so why would I think that?  But really, it just tastes like itself, like cilantro, like something I can't get out of my mouth fast enough.

I really don't get why people stand still on escalator.  I mean, I am truly, truly puzzled by that.  I've seen people stand still on escalators on their way to the gym, where they will workout on stair masters.  We can all walk up and down stairs, right?  At least those of us not forced by infirmity or exhaustion or whatever to use elevators.  So why not walk up and down escalators?  I just don't get it.

One of my many mottos: People who drive too slowly - should.

Another motto: I can be comfortable or I can grow, but I can't have both.  It's interesting to me how many people argue with that one when I say it, coming up with examples of how it's possible to grow without being uncomfortable.  But I stand by the principle that growing, learning, stretching, experience something new is almost always uncomfortable, but is the only way we grow, learn, stretch, and experience what's new.

Another motto: I'm younger now than I'm ever going to be.  I use that one when I want to do something but wonder if I'm too old.
That motto's partner: No matter how old I am now, in 10 years I'm going to look back and think "I was so young then!"

Trolls. Not the cute kind.

Sweet Hubby and I were talking about Internet trolls recently.  (I can't remember what topic got us to that.)  He described them as people who don't want to contribute, but simply like to stir things up, watch people go at each other.

Me being me, I immediately started wondering what could have happened to someone to turn them into a troll.  SH said they act that way because it gives them power.  But what kind of power is it?  It avails them nothing.  It doesn't make them richer or better looking.  It doesn't allow them to win any battles, or buy anything, or create anything.  It's the emptiest kind of power, really just a sense of power really, but a power so finite it enables them to do one thing only, to upset other people.  How powerless does a person have to be to need that?

45, of course, is the biggest troll in the world right now, using the Internet, Twitter specifically, to get people riled up, to insult opponents and ethnic groups, to spread lies and rumors and disinformation.  How insecure he must be, to have to declare himself a genius whose hands are big, constantly calling his actions the purest, his ideas the smartest, calling an impeachable offense "a perfect phone call".  If Obama had talked like that, or acted like that, the country would have found it repulsive and turned on him.  If Obama had done any one of the thousands of reproachable offenses of this President, his career would have been over in an instant.  So why can 45 act like this and still be fawned over and adored?  I understand that the Republicans who slavishly empower him do so because his Presidency allows them to enact parts of their agendas, although I suspect there are quite a number of Republicans in Congress who recognize him for exactly what he is and are simply too cowardly to speak up.  My wish for them is that they spend the rest of their lives regretting their behavior during this administration.  But what about regular Joes like me, who listen to his bumbling speeches, watch the famous weather map debacle, see his obvious ignorance, and still follow and cheer and adore this dangerously flawed man?  I don't know that I'll ever understand that.

A Double Dookie Day

Let's stop for a moment and think of those things, the little things, that make a day special and more pleasant.  Like getting something in the mail besides bills, ads, and pleas for donations.  You know, like when a check arrives you weren't expecting, or a niece takes the time to write an actual thank you letter for the money you sent for her birthday.  I'm even happy when I get a rejection letter in the mail for a play I've submitted to a theater.  Most theaters, of course, now reject by email, if they bother to notify at all.  But there are those few which still send letters, and I just find it thrilling to have something to open that doesn't immediately go into recycle.

Finding something you thought was lost. 
Light traffic. 
Meeting a sweet dog in the park. 
Seeing green shoots working their ways out of the ground after winter. 
A bus driver who smiles back. 
Finishing a tough crossword puzzle.
Tackling and finishing some nagging little item you've been avoiding on the to-do list. 
Seeing a father tenderly hold his baby. 
Starting to read a new book and becoming so absorbed that time doesn't matter. 
Waking up at 8:30 and realizing your spouse did the 6AM kitty feeding. 
Getting a good night's sleep - and remembering your dream before it fades.
Thinking "I haven't skipped in a while", and then doing it and not caring if you look like a batty, eccentric senior because you are one and you love it. 
That virtuous feeling you get when you drive past the fast food and don't sweeten your tea at the coffee shop.

Those are some of mine.  What are yours?

100 Silver Spoons, 1000 Irritations

 I have everything.  I was born with a hundred silver spoons in my mouth, the greatest of which was my family's commitment to education, to thinking.  My parents were smart, educated people.  (Until much too late in my life, I didn't credit Mom much with brains.  She loved being a mother, wife, and homemaker.  That was what she actually wanted.  It looked terriyingly boring to me.  But when my sibs and I were getting to college age, Mom went to nursing school and graduated top of her class.  The woman was so much smarter than I knew.)    And they loved us.  My dad found the right career for himself; he drank, but he didn't hate his job, as so many do.  His career moved him regularly upward, so we had money; we were absolutely, snugly middle American.  I was born with a strong, healthy body and a good brain, (of which I've used even less that the usual 6 per cent we pink monkeys tend to use), and thoroughly alive senses.  I was taught to be kind and to mind my bigotries, to heal and erase them as best I could.  I met the perfect man to share my life with, even including our arguments and sometimes cross-purposes.  I love where I live.  I love and am close to my extended family.

Well, this is getting embarrassing, so I'll move to what this is really all about.  The previous paragraph is all a set up for the heart of the matter.  Which is that, with all this richness of sustenance and nourishment and unearned blessings, I way too often get into a snit about something or other, become territorial.  Peck at Sweet Hubby, or hold myself away from him, for no reason.  Just be sort of a cranky bitch subject to a thousand irritations.  All these gifts, all this abundance, and still my little ego hides and deflates and defends itself.

I come back once again to the hard hard question: How can I expect better of anyone else if I, with all this behind me, can still become selfish or mean over nothing?  I don't even know what else to say.  I want so much for the world, and I can't seem to kill off the idea of the possibility that we can all do better, and are trying to, and will.  But people still traffic little girls for sex.  People still plant road bombs and steal each others' land.  People still build entire political parties based on hatred.

It is so easy to feel hopeless and cynical.  But I know that it is my sacred duty, as one of the "good" people of the world, to keep hope alive.  Better than hope; to keep spirit and action and joy alive.  Most of the time I don't see how I can possibly do that, but if I don't or can't or won't do that, it won't much matter what else I do.