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Archive for the ‘Washington experiences’ Category

I was taking Ruby for her walk the other day and happened to be listening to a radio show that was talking about the year Gracie Allen ran for President.  It happened sort of by accident in 1940.  They played excerpts from some of the shows, and I about wet my pants listening to George Burns interview her.  Gracie went on a whistle stop tour too.   

I was inspired!  “I want to run for office!” I heard myself shouting.  Ruby pulled her head back in the open window in the back seat and chuffed at me.  “What political party should I run under?”  I asked her gaily.  She stuck her head back out the window, so I continued my train of thought silently.  

Given my Libertarian leanings and past, there was no way I could compromise my principles far enough to run as either a Democrat or a Republican.   I had met and hobnobbed with members of the Alaska Independence Party back in the late ’70s right after I graduated from the University of Alaska Fairbanks, and they were way too whacko to join up with.  One of our other very good friends was a income tax protester who wound up spending time in prison for his principles.   He never gave up his rights to the Fifth Amendment.  

The other thing is, I’m a lapsed Libertarian.  I have developed what they would deem distressing Socialist tendencies in my old age.  But the Socialists would never associate with me becuase I sort of believe in capitalism.  Less than I used to but I still haven’t broken the habit yet.   After all, I do have shares in a mutual fund where my IRA is.

I have long thought we humans need to band together as brothers and sisters and friends and neighbors and help each other.  We need to provide Health Care (oh no I am descending into Capital Lettersland. . .) and some other socialist stuff like that.

Last night we went out to Jay and Jeri’s and had dinner.   We brought lasagna that was made using leftover spaghetti sauce that was made using leftover meatloaf.  The pan of lasagna that we took with us was leftover from Friday night’s dinner.  So it was leftover leftover leftovers.  And it was really good, too.  We also took a loaf of fresh made bread and a salad we just picked from the cold frames.  

That reminds me, I have promised Kristen elsewhere in the blog that I would post pictures of the cold frames and the support leg arrangement.  I need to go take a picture of that so I can post it, and and the same time brag heavily about my salad patch today.  Be right back.

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Okay.   This is what the garden looks like when you enter the gate. Take a moment to notice the compost tumbler.   There are two of them set up out there.  In the left background you can see the cold frames standing open.   See the horizontal bar that connects the legs?  Before Jim tied them together, each leg swung independently in a most whimsical way.  The holes for the wing nuts were so old, they weren’t very tight any more.   The coldframes are about six feet wide, and so it required a quite elaborate dance to put the frames down at night.   Now you simply stand in the middle and control both legs with one hand while you gently lower the glass lid with the other.

The cold frames will get me out in the fresh air regularly and help me prevent osteoporosis by providing me with regular weight-bearing exercise.  But I digress.

Coldframes closed:

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Cold frame open.  Notice that we had to build extensions for the old frames to sit on because the mustards and arugula in the mesclun got so tall.

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We eat some really good salads, I can tell you.

Okay.  Now back to politics.  After we had eaten dinner, which began with shrimp sauteed in a white wine sauce Jeri whipped up, she and I ran over to Buffalo to pick up ice and other essential supplies.  When we got back, Jay informed me that he was going to corrupt Jim, fill him full of whiskey and a couple of cigars.  I told him to go right ahead, and Jeri and I proceeded to corrupt ourselves to some extent, although we mostly drew the line at the cigars.  Oops.  That’s not true, I smoked a cigar for a while.  I couldn’t do the whole thing though.  I think I had some sort of wild idea of showing solidarity with Jim so he would know I wasn’t going to get on his case for getting stinking drunk and indulging in tobacco.  (I’m still trying to throw off my Puritan ancestors’ influence.)

We went through a rather rowdy discussion of what we thought would be the results of Barack Obama philandering the way Slick Willy did during his administration.  This culminated with Jeri posing as Michelle grabbing Barack’s balls in an iron fist while he stood at a podium making a public apology for his crimes.

That is when I got on a roll about how I was going to run for office someday.  Only, the problem is, I have SUCH a checkered past.   I mean, I’m gingham in all shades of the rainbow.  

Anyway, here is the gist of my announcement of candidacy:  I’m running for office in 2012.  I’m runing as the candidate for the Party Party.  Let me get one thing clear.   “Yes, I had sex with that man!  Now, can we talk about the issues?”  

Oh I can just imagine the first press conference after my announcement of candidacy.  I walk on stage, they greet me and I sit down in the comfy chair across the desk from the anchor.   Then the curtain behind us opens, revealing a very long line of men and a couple of women.  Many more than you can count quickly, let’s not get into details of the numbers.  I recognize quite a few of them immediately:  The Beautiful Soprano, Ivan the Terrible, Soldier Boy, Sailor Man, Wolfman Jack, the Gypsy.   The Terrible Twosome is there as well as the Pair Of Jocks from the swim team plus a miscellaneous lot of musicians and theatre majors.   I start to indulge in a pleasant reminiscence about days gone by when I am jolted back to reality by the dulcet tones of the anchor.

“Ms. Candidate.   Did you have sex with any of these men?”

Now, imagine me reclining on a couch in my friends’ living room in full declamatory phase here.  This is sort of what I said to Jeri.   I was not able to stand up, the couch I was sitting on had swallowed me up.   Jeri was laughing hysterically, and both the boys stopped their heated political diatribes  discussion to listen to me as I went off.

“Yes, I did have sex with that man!   As a matter of fact, I probably had sex with all of them at one time or another. Let me see,” I muse, as I imagine getting up from my comfy chair and walking along the line of men standing there.   Some look amused, some a little embarrassed.   “Oh, yes.   I had sex with him! Mmm.  You too.   Mmmmmmm-mmm.    That was a nice time, thank you very much.   Yep, I believe I had sex with this one too, only I’m sorry I can’t remember the name because he was such a selfish and unimaginative lover I never went out with him again.   Don’t call us, we’ll call you!” I say scornfully to the hapless fellow as I pass on down the line.  Quickly bored, I turn back to the anchor.

“And before you ask, yes I smoked pot.  Didn’t everybody at one time or another? What’s the big fucking deal anyway?   I can’t even begin to imagine how many ounces have passed over my lips in one form or another over the past three decades.  Hell, I even grew it a couple of years.  Stadiums are filling as we speak with myriads of potential witnesses to our debauchery.   Before you ask, I just want to say I also snorted cocaine for a short time.  I decided then that white crystalline powders were not for me; I am not fond of the headache.   I dropped acid once, that happened at a Grateful Dead New Year’s Eve Concert at the Oakland Coliseum in the late ’80s.  

So you’d better have a pretty huge venue for the potential witnesses.   That pool will include a large number of musicians of all sorts (Of course Slick Willy inhaled!  He was a sax player for god’s sake!) scattered all up and down the West Coast from the deepest south of San Diego clear up to the Puget Sound area, as well as almost every male theatre major in the College, Alaska area during the years of ’73 and ’74.  Even one of the gay ones.

Can we talk about the issues yet?  No?  You have more questions?  How intrusive into my private life are you prepared to get?

No.  I never had an “abortion” per se, although I have sufferred through several miscarriages spontaneous abortions as my body rejected the unviable creature that was developing within it.  Those tore me up, I really wanted to have a kid, but I was stuck in the traditional “have a baby and raise it up” version for quite a while.   I am so happy and proud and grateful to have the man we have as our adopted son.  

I’ve known several people who did have abortions, and they agonized and meditated over their decision.  I believe they made the approprate choice at the time, and support them in their decision and the need to make that decision.   It is their body, and their life, and until the fetus is born and can survive on its own without medical intervention, it is a parasite upon a woman’s body, lives within her sucking all the  energy it needs to survive out of her very bloodstream.    When this process is carried to a successful conclusion, with love and desire for the new soul being provided a housing, it creates a bond of love that is lifelong.  If it is done willy-nilly, the bond is lifelong as well, but very twisted.   That being within the mother is fully aware of all her emotions.  Think about it.  What kind of a human will you turn out to be if you know your mother did not want you? 

Now, lets see.   I always lived by the motto that I am not going to allow any one to rule me by guilt.   I have  looked at many people during my life and said, “You can not blackmail me.   If you decide you want to tell what we did, then I will tell everybody first, and louder.”   I’m sure that there was a famous person back in history that said, “Publish and be damned to you!” but for the life of me I can’t remember who it was that said it or what the occasion was.

As a consequence of following this rule, the other Prime Directive “Do Unto Others as You Would Have Them Do Unto You,” and the Axiom “TANSTAAFL” (There Ain’t No Such Thing As A Free Lunch), you will have lots of smut to giggle over, many orgasmic sex scenes to sit through.  You will attend hilarious parties developed around a theme food (like chicken)(or taffy pulls), some amazingly beautiful music of all genres, art gallery openings, political rallies.  You will not find any assaults, battery or murders.   I did steal candy from the Kraft display in Safeway when I was very young.   

I’m running as the candidate for the Party Party.   Our platform is:   Be Nice.   Have Fun.  Don’t Pollute.  Don’t Hurt Anyone.   Take Care Of Each Other.

WHAT??!!  You want to know what religion I am?   Well, I can tell you this right now.  It is not any one of your male dominated organized Guilt Trips.  I am a pagan, I practice Wicca (which by the way is an old word meaning “Wise Woman”) and I have already experienced being burned at the stake out near Toledo Spain during the Burning Times (oh, by the way, I believe in reincarnation too) so you can’t scare me any more.  I’m a witch.  Get over it. Deal with it.

Now that we have dealt with all the things that all the judgmental bastards out there in Religionland think make me unqualified to be your leader, can we please talk about the issues?

Vote for Me!  Thank you, and have a nice day.

I’m Esmerelda Hibblesfinck and I approved this message.

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I got a nice comment from Truce on my “Boundaries” post yesterday.  It made me remember a day in the long distant past when I lived in Bremerton, Washington.

As impossible as it may be to imagine, at that time I was a Navy wife, and since my husband was away at sea much of the time, I got a dog.  She was half black lab and half collie, very smart, and ball crazy.  You could get her do just about anything if you had a ball in your hand that she knew you would throw for her after she did whatever it was you wanted her to do.

We used to go on long walks down the power line right of ways, and through the logging roads.  We really had a wonderful time.  One time we were down in the bottom of a little creek and she started up a rabbit.  This was no ordinary wild rabbit, but a very large white rabbit that immediately made me check to see if I was Alice or not.  It was a little nervous about the dog, but it clearly knew that dogs were not truly to be feared.  It seemed very thin, and rather confused by being out in the woods.

So I took it home, and ran out to buy some rabbit pellets for it.  The poor thing was extremely grateful to have someone providing it sustenance.  Pretty sad that it was starving out there in the middle of blackberries and clover.  It obviously was a house pet, because right after it ate it went and used the catbox, much to  Susan’s and CioCio’s dismay.

My cats were not exactly sure what to make of this beast.  Susan was just terrified of it, and refused to come near it the entire time it was in the house.

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Cio Cio was a little braver, but definitely confused.

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I knew this poor beast was lost, had probably accidentally escaped from a loving home.  After I canvassed the subdivision all around the draw where the rabbit had turned up in a vain attempt to find the owners, I contacted the local Humane Society.  They took it off my hands. 

Only two days later they called me to let me know that the owners of the rabbit had turned up and had gratefully appeared and taken it home.  I was glad its experience of “going Walkabout” ended well.

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