Knock knock, reality calling…

***

When I woke up this morning I thought it was Monday but by the time I put my feet on the floor I’d decided it must be Saturday. Or possibly Friday or Sunday. Happy New Year to me! Kim brings me an Einstein Brothers bagel every Monday so I was hoping for that one, but other days are okay too. Somehow in all of that brain wave activity, without my saying a word about it, Kim got the message to bring me a bagel before he went to PickleBall, so all is well beyond expectation! In case somebody else needs a bit of help this morning: today is Friday, then come Saturday, Sunday, and Monday (hopefully graced with another bagel). Christmas was in December, which is now over, and New Year’s celebrations took us to yet another year we aren’t ready for, yay!!

Fat lotta good THAT’ll do me…

So here we go, and we’ll hope things make themselves clear sooner rather than later. Or it’s very possible we’ll wish we didn’t have to know at all.

I made no resolutions, which is good because I would already have broken at least three. I do have a heartfelt hope for MORE TIME this year with people I love. That’s real living, end of story.

**

I walked into 2025 with my eyes wide open as a functioning adult, full of… yes hope, because I’m still Pollyanna, no apologies. However, while I’m eternally optimistic, I’ve also become quite realistic, so I know the following bears repeating…

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We’re three days into a year steeped in mystery… what will it be like? Since it might be a while before we know, we have time to make a conscious choice:

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Meanwhile, soak up the quiet of this interim time, and appreciate the lack of unnecessary drama.

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Fractured fairytales…

***

Once upon a time, strange as it may sound, Christmas happened in a world that wasn’t ready for it, making things discombobulated and odd from the start of the season. Planet LOOK.AT.US. was out of sorts and feeling aloof from the whole affair. Things were not right in the kingdom and no one knew how to fix it. Such a different holiday it was shaping up to be, with far too much sadness in the mix.

But wait… since the task of Christmas is to lighten hearts and gladden the soul, I must give you, instead, the story of The Four Farmer’s Daughters… have you heard this one? Get another cup of coffee and pull up a chair, it goes like this:

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We were festive…

Just not THIS festive.

***

Christmas Day this year was sweet and special in too many ways to list, but you know I’ll try. It’s hard to sort out what the whole thing is about for me now, but what remains… always… from the past and forever… is the love. It’s entirely a feel-good day if we can do it right.

Rita was here, she and I wore our Christmas jammies, the Chiefs won, and dinner was amazing.

The traditional cheese ball I hadn’t made in 30 years. The recipe holds up.

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Salmon filets in cream sauce with spinach and cherry tomatoes over Jasmine rice; candied carrots, and cheesy biscuits. And vino. Dessert was warm fruit tarts with ice cream.

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The usual suspects.

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Today we’re being hugged by a heavy fog and indoors is where it’s at. Perfect.

Let quiet and peace soak into your bones, and savor every blessing.

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Still there, world?

***

What a long strange trip it’s been… and growing stranger by the minute. The air feels muted and in a state of suspended animation, but it’s winter time and the trees stand diminished in their vulnerable nakedness, painting stark lines against a gray sky. Nobody’s saying much, though, which brings a room down in a hurry. And it’s cold out, that’ll do it for sure. This is a strange time in history that we hoped never to see… but we instinctively knew that if it ever did arrive, it would look a lot like this.

So kids, if the voting stats are true we’re faced with the knowledge that a third to half the nation is opposed, often violently, to the values held by the other half. What do we even do with a sobering statistic like that? The next four years, and who knows how many more, lie before us. Days, weeks, months, and years when we won’t know which half of the people we encounter hate us and all we stand for, which half would prefer that we exist elsewhere or not at all. It is, to say the least, unsettling.

The nation that has represented freedom to the rest of the world is now scheming to rid the country of “undesirables,” by force and all other means necessary. It’s incomprehensible.

And there’s this, which we knew would be coming at us eventually:

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Time… free but priceless

***

First thing I noticed this morning is that it’s December, which is a little disconcerting since January was only a few heartbeats ago, and I distinctly remember making plans for how the year might progress. Oh, it is to laugh. Plans are to the universe as the cape is to the bull, with similarly predictable results.

This stretch of time from election to inauguration feels like the calm before a highly capricious storm that has us asking “How bad will it be and how quickly will it happen?” I remind myself every day to sit in peace and let it soak into my bones because it’s a precious resource that may turn out to be non-renewable.

It’s the return to governmental chaos on steroids that I dread. It’s been a lovely four years in which President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris have not viewed us as spectators to their illustrious lives by bombarding us with daily, nay hourly, updates via TV and social media. It’s been a wonderful thing to just breathe for a while. I like breathing. It’s been a nice break to have the adults in charge. It’s more than possible that wholesale change is upon us, and for a girl who has always claimed to welcome change… this time around the block I do not.

It’s all real and it’s parked on our doorstep, so here we go, kids. Hold hands and look both ways before you cross the street.

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Don’t surrender in advance. And bear in mind that insubordination can be subtle.

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Pardon my dust…

***

From the Lexington (Ky.) Herald-Leader:

Opinion | Pardon our devastation. Millions of you put a criminal in the White House.

Pardon our devastation. More than 75 million of our fellow citizens put a malevolent, criminal madman in the White House. We’ve watched you embrace him as he destroys your faith in science, education, and our government. You stuck with him after he lied and incited a deadly insurrection. You champion him as he demonizes and endangers nonwhite immigrants. You swallow his ridiculous lies about our public schools doing “sex change” surgeries. You ignore his plans to reverse the rights of our LGBTQ brothers and sisters, even when you have loved ones that this will profoundly affect. You numbly nod as he repeatedly speaks of black jobs. Not a flicker of alarm when he stated immigrants were “poisoning the blood of our country.” You support his promises to destroy families with immigrant camps and mass deportations. You cheer for him as he promises revenge on his political opponents. You excused him when he demeaned our dead war heroes. You ignore that he is a convicted felon, found liable for rape.

For eight years, the rest of America has made excuses for you. You’re brainwashed. Misinformed by Fox commentary. But that no longer tracks. You heard the words straight from his mouth. Even low information voters know he was convicted of 34 felony counts. That he was found liable for rape. His vile words and behavior don’t matter to you. You’re either in it for the promised tax break or the lawlessness or the hate. But you’re all in.

Decent Americans can no longer ignore or navigate our moral incompatibility with you. That is why so many people were devastated last week. We didn’t just lose an election. We lost friends and family and neighbors to a vision of America that is corrupt and dishonorable and cruel. We’re grappling with the reality that everything we ever learned about kindness, decency, honesty, respect, patriotism, fairness, and democracy has been relinquished by half of our citizens. We optimistically hoped that deep down, you were better than this. We learned you weren’t.

So what you now see aren’t liberal tears over a lost election. It’s brutal grief over our losses of friends and family who no longer share our understanding of right and wrong and what it means to be a decent citizen. And it’s fear for our daughters and our minority friends and neighbors who now have targets on their backs. We won’t expect you to feel shame. Our new clarity assures us you’ll laugh or shrug this off, turn on Fox News, and continue to gorge yourselves on immigrant crime, hate porn, and the evils of feeding school children a free lunch. You’ll consume more nonsense about how men supporting women turns them into women. Your hate and fear control you.

In my view, you are now inextricably connected to the man you support. When the next Asian woman is assaulted, you will be one of the attackers. When families are ripped apart and put in camps, you will be one of their guards. When another woman dies from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, you’re one of the people barring the door to her doctor. When the next trans woman or gay man is beaten up, your foot is on their throat. You voted to hurt people and that is unacceptable.

What your guy refers to as the Lunatic Left, Communist Left, Radical Left, will still be here. We won’t don cult gear, denigrate our flag or corrupt the term “patriot.” We won’t grab our guns and bear spray and storm the Capitol. We’ll organize locally in an effort to protect the targets of your cruelty. We’ll push back against the destruction of our public schools. We’ll stand between racist and target; misogynist and our daughters. We’ll teach our children and grandchildren the difference between tolerance of people’s differences and tolerance of hate. We’ll work our jobs, pay our bills and our taxes, and love our families. We just won’t be doing it in relationship with you anymore than is absolutely necessary.

Jan Scherrer is a speech language pathologist and mother of two who lives in Versailles, Ky., and I’m honored to reprint her here.

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Things that matter…

***

Holidays are hard. There… I said it. As kids we rarely pick up on the nuances of family gatherings, we’re just there to see our cousins and eat fun stuff. And then life changes, as it is wont to do, and we learn how to celebrate on a different scale, how to hold room for our memories and feelings, how to appreciate everything. It’s a lot.

Some years ago we stopped trying to live up to the noisy food-laden holidays of yore and brought the house down a little with simple, and simply wonderful, comfort food, the National Dog Show, football, the chill weather, and much laughter. So as it turns out life is in great part about taming expectations. Kim and Rita cook and bicker in the kitchen while I keep myself available for mindless tasks, and behold, a luscious meal appears. It works seamlessly, and we’re appropriately thankful for various things all day, no stress required. I love it. The mood couldn’t be more comfortable.

Still. Our hearts remember the old times, and we think of them as having been magical… everybody happy and full of love, hugs all around, nothing but peace and goodwill. With everything hanging in the balance this year, we yearn for the unity and unconditional love we think we remember, and we try to go back to a place that was never really there… kind of like Brigadoon. Silly us.

If you’re still with me, thank you for indulging this minor fit of melancholy, which I shall now attempt to put back in the box with the double-secret code on the lock. Nobody needs that stuff on a day we’re just grateful to spend together, alive and well, so tomorrow will be about the right-now, the life we have, and the people we love.

I wish the same for you, complete with everything you need.

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A day in the life…

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Waiting for Godot, aka the other shoe…

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The calendar says we’re more than two weeks out since the election but there’s no way my brain could have told me that on its own because the markers have been few and far between. It’s always unsettling to sail through a state of limbo, precisely because of the inherent uncertainty. Also, the relative quiet compared to previous experiences with the former guy feels, may I say, a little ominous. We’re watching the potential for chaos build by the day with each nomination to what resembles a junk drawer more than a presidential cabinet, and we see plenty of concern to be had, but since we are simply the embodiment of “the vermin within” our input has neither been sought, nor will it. Our task is to survive bodily and to handle the changes as they come at us. None of us know yet how swiftly or drastically those changes will be implemented; therefore, limbo. I can’t decide whether to keep trying to make the world a better place, or look for a safe vantage point while we watch the drama unfold.

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I had hoped the following from Rod Serling in 1964 was true:

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We dared to entertain brave hopes of a nation once again united… but were we EVER that? I think not.

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It’ll make the happiest of old ladies grumpy.

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Things we know at this auspicious point in time:

Our daily reality as Americans will most likely look very different this time next year, and I’m pretty sure the general population is in no way prepared.

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Unfortunately, the country seems to have cornered the market on denial, so actual communication among factions is still at a premium. For nine years we’ve waited for his day to be done, waited to be free of his voice and leering mugshots, waited for him to disappear from our TV screens. Instead, this is life for the next four years, and maybe ’til I die, which pisses me off beyond words, as does THIS:

How dare woman-bots malfunction?! And then proceed to destroy civilizations, more’s the pity. I’m surprised we’re allowed to drive cars and raise the babies we birth. Now that I think of it, we could easily lose both of those rights before it’s over. Best to remain philosophical, right?

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‘Twas brillig and the slithy toves…

***

Now that Jabberwocky has been anointed king, we must familiarize ourselves with the language and culture that attaches thereto, by which I mean catch up or get trampled. This is a new thing, a “fresh” experience, a mystery ride… are we buckled up?

In the aftermath of the election, a lot of us are still caught in that “a second plane just hit” moment of cognition, staring at the smoking ruins and silently thinking about our short list of options. Mexico’s newly-installed woman president has said that Americans are welcome in their expat communities, but that if somebody here sends them 200,000 Mexicans they’ll send an equal number of Americans the other direction across the border. Obviously turnabout is fair play, and why would Americans simply be accepted at face value after turning most of the nonWhite world away? Are we special or something? Moving sounds a little iffy for personal reasons, and I’m not real cranked on giving up my right to live here to a bunch of bullies anyway. They filed for divorce, why should WE move out? I saw yesterday, though, that Americans are fleeing the country like the “vermin from within” that we’ve been labeled, and I wish them nothing but positive results, it’s just that I think I’m too tired to follow them, depending on how this goes. I do know the survival instinct is strong. So, yeah… thx for listening.

I was reminded this week that during the COVID pandemic I used this blog to document the daily journey, and now I’m slipping into journal mode for the current trip into the unknown. Just a heads-up on that, although I write for me so it is what it is.

So… after the heavy silence that followed the voting, we’re starting to get a look at the “team” at the top, and here are just a few highlights:

  • Attorney General: Matt Gaetz, who was under investigation for sex trafficking until his nomination
  • HHS Secretary: Robert F. Kennedy Jr., whose views on both health and humans are bizarre at best
  • Defense Secretary: Pete Hegseth, a “television presenter” for the FOX network, who will no doubt be brilliant with all those thorny defense issues
  • Secretary of Homeland Security: Kristi Noem, who rewards lack of obedience with a bullet
  • Director of National Intelligence: Tulsi Gabbard, friend and possible side piece to Vlad, and challenge to the term “intelligence”
  • Department of Government Efficiency: Elon Musk AND Vivek Ramaswamy, otherwise known as the Department of Redundancy Department
  • Deputy Chief of Staff for Policy and Homeland Security Adviser: Stephen Miller, who stands alone in the lineup for his ability to morph from Jewish human to Nazi

Can you say kakistocracy, boys and girls?

noun

  • a state or society governed by its least suitable or competent citizens.

**

The Former Guy is either baffling us with bullshit to keep us from noticing that Elon bought in as co-president, or he’s hoping everyone will be so inept he’ll look like a genius by comparison, then he can fire them and run it all himself, or quite likely both. None of which takes into account what the voices in his head will be telling him by inauguration time, so as I said up there somewhere, it’s gonna be a trip.

***

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And so, let the great world turn…

***

Nothing puts us in our place quicker than events over which we have zero control, so those are the most disheartening and therefore damaging. Things happen, we register the shock to our psyches, and then, because we’re human and it’s in us, we start trying to process the whole thing. Unfortunately in this case (post-election) there are big chunks missing from the narrative, unwieldy boxes full of things we don’t know, power loose in places we’ve underestimated, so we’re left to piece together the governmental and societal cataclysm that’s been set in motion, one which will eventually change every aspect of life in our nation if allowed to run unchecked. Figuring out exactly what’s happened to us and what the everliving hell we can do about it is like assembling a 5,000-piece jigsaw puzzle in the dark.

We don’t know how deep and wide the corruption is, but apparently it’s become the end-all-be-all entity in this situation, and we regular peons have no weapon against a concerted determination toward total control. Lots of “regular peons” are actually saying they WANT to be ruled, WANT to be told what to do, and we’ll see how long that attitude holds. Those same regulars think they’ll be immune to the downside of oligarchy, and that’s just sadly laughable. We aren’t all in the same boat, but we’re all floating on the same crowded pond.

I’m not old, but at 77 most young people (under 30) would consider me ancient. Still, I have yet to make any such noises as: “life’s too hard, I’ve been here long enough, time for me to shuffle off to Buffalo and leave it to the kids,” because I’m not finished living. Somewhere along the way I asked for a long life, and I did at the same time think to ask that my life not turn ugly and scary before it reaches its end, but here we are, we rarely get everything we ask for.

If we survive this era, it will be because we remembered how to love and care for each other. What I’ve seen to this point makes me a skeptic. Prove me wrong, world.

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Something Americans traditionally have a difficult time with.

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Your life, my life, the life of the nation. We’re really here.

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First you cry…

***

Here we are, kids, facing trauma of a sort that hasn’t been seen within our shores until now. It’s a heavy thing, watching night close in, knowing our way of life is more than likely ending in favor of a terrifying unknown. But as the numbness and DENIAL start to wear off a bit our psyches move into other stages of grief, and next up is ANGER. Elizabeth Kübler-Ross taught us that the five primary grief levels are DENIAL, ANGER, BARGAINING, DEPRESSION, and ACCEPTANCE, but also that those levels don’t remain in a nice neat order or follow an easy progression, and let me just say that ANGER feels like it’s setting in for the longterm. I mean, who the hell would I BARGAIN with anyway… I’ve had quite enough of DEPRESSION over the last decade… and ACCEPTANCE? Seriously?

There’s no accepting that my Black and Brown friends’ lives will become infinitely more fraught with danger, my trans friends will be exposed to unspeakable jeopardy, my gay friends and family will have to make decisions about safe places to live, somewhere on the planet, anyone who is different will be subject to scrutiny requiring them to justify their own existence. Lives will be in a state of upheaval for the foreseeable future so I can find no form of acceptance in my heart for the fact that people I once trusted have bowed the knee to a madman filled with hatred for the world and everything in it.

**

The people who voted in favor of fascism seem to think we’ve simply had another transition from one political party to another, when what we’ve done is shifted into an entirely new way of being, and we don’t know yet what that will look like. Those same people believe they’re the favored ones and what happens to us won’t happen to them.

They know not what they’ve done.

**

Nothing about the next four years and the ones thereafter will be easy, so we’ll all definitely know what we’re made of if we survive intact. There are things to keep in mind as dusk approaches:

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The world we wanted, the one where everybody gets to be who they are, is still a bridge too far and we see that now, don’t we. I’ve unbelieved a lot of things, but I’ll always believe that beautiful world exists… if only we knew how to live in it.

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It’s fine, we’re fine, everything’s fine…

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There’s still much to process so it’s really lame that my processor is on the fritz this week. Heart says “address this stuff,” brain says “let’s do another iPad painting.” I would describe myself today as uncomfortably numb.

It’s funny, I almost feel worse for the rest of the civilized world than for the U.S. population. We’ve been busy screwing things up, all the while they’ve continued to think we knew what we were doing. Surprise!

Don’t we all.

Some perspective:

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It only happens to “lesser societies,” right?

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Sometimes communication with people we care about suffers, not because we hate them but because we’ve made each other feel that the other doesn’t really matter, a sorry human trait.

So here we are. What was to have been a healing interval in American history will instead be an unsettling exercise in survival as a nation and as a population. The Reagan-era fascists hung in there like dogs, faithfully passing the torch to each new set of believers and simultaneously tearing away at the foundations of democracy until the Golden Goose of New York City fell into their hands, after which it was simply a matter of time. America won’t have to wait long before the effects start to show up; therefore, I’m leaving this here for posterity so we can all reminisce later:

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Something that has to be said:

Don’t bother asking WWJD. Nobody knows.

In the end…

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Time out…

***

We’ve either been steamrolled… or we’ve been had. Either way, it seems to be over for democracy-loving citizens, although we gave it a mighty effort, at least in terms of righteous indignation over the possibilities.

Those unthinkable possibilities have arrived on a silver platter, and we can expect events to unfold very quickly, no time wasted in bringing this former proud nation to its knees. So unless you’re solely motivated by hate and revenge, prepare to have your life stripped of everything that makes it meaningful and livable.

This isn’t a drill, it’s all really happening. We woke up this morning to see that we’ve been quietly taken over by patient fascists who were fronted by clowns in order to keep us distracted. Step by determined step they’ve actually done it… brought the mighty United States of America down to their level, and now we’re a captive audience while events play out.

It’s going to be a steep learning curve for his “chosen ones.” At least the rest of us already know how this works.

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I’ll meet you right here as soon as they turn some of the lights back on. Stay safe.

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And just like that…

***

Merry Election Eve, boys and girls, we’re finally almost there after a long tedious slog, but I must say this feels like the opposite of preChristmas excitement and more like existential dread. When the incident pictured below happened nine years ago that should have been the end of it. Instead it was the start of a continuous succession of unPresidential shenanigans, by which I mean crimes. He’s always showed us exactly who he is. Can we be done now, and will the tattered threads of democracy still hold?

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Since the day the polls opened here I’ve been antsy to vote early, but for once in my life tradition constrains me. Our official polling place is in the historic old Cider Gallery, now an art museum and event venue, so it always feels appropriately weighty to exercise our citizenship there, followed by breakfast at The Roost and maybe a Bloody Mary to mark the occasion. And then if all goes well, we’ll be on our balcony tomorrow night making noise.

The Cider Gallery

It feels like an eternity has passed since November 8, 2016, a date that truly will live in infamy. The events of that day, and all the ones to follow, have altered life for every soul within our shores, and ended the lives of over a million during the COVID peak. No quarter has been left untouched, no person unchanged. We’ve come close to losing everything that matters… and for no valid reason other than ego. Can we step back from the abyss now and come home to reality? Together somehow?

We’re tired. Exhausted from the effort required to hold it together for ourselves and everyone around us. We need peace and rest as a nation while we try learning to trust each other again. I hope we all find safe harbor.

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