I’m not even kidding, but the sun came out. Everything in the world feels more relaxed. I had the House impeachment debate on in the background all day yesterday because it just seemed like the kind of event I should acknowledge. But today we can move on. And I’m still burnt out on politics. But will watch the stupid debate tonight anyway.
So the look for today is navy blue cotton leggings (Kohls 2016), a very thin navy blue striped sweater (Goodwill clearance) and a spectacular pair of robin’s egg blue boots.
When one’s feet look this good, what else does one need? yrmama has always been all about having fun getting dressed, but the combo of these magical boots and my polished wood cane led the mind beyond.
Last summer at an Ehler’s Danlos syndrome conference there were a bunch of wheelchair riders, brace wearers and cane walkers. The more assistive equipment one had – a scooter, oxygen tank, iv pole – the more aggressively cute the personal style. Bright red lipstick that said, “I know you just want to talk to my service dog but hey, I’m the person here and you have to look at my face.” A pink wig that said, “I know you want to stare and think it’s awkward that I’m using a chair, but goddamit, look me in the eye.” Same for fantastic shoes, or a beautiful vintage dress with crinolines. An effective way to get people to stop fixating quite so much on your unusual circumstance is to draw even more attention to yourself. “If you’re going to look, I’ll give you something to look at.” Or maybe, “This light is going to shine so bright that the glare in your eyes will make you forget everything but me.”
Pete has a secret power. Remember Donald stalking Hillary on the debate stage? She could smell his breath, and she chose to ignore him. Solid choice. I love to picture Debate Pete in that position – I don’t know the details, but he wouldn’t take any shit, and in such an unassailable way there would be nothing for Donald to grab. His unflappability would both enrage and bamboozle Donald.
Pete’s like my feral cat, Dr. Norris, sleek and adorable. Last winter I had to pick Dr. Norris up to save their* life. (I’m not even kidding, they would have died.) They initially allowed the contact, but soon tried to slither loose. Because I was wearing thick gloves and an impenetrable Carhartt barn jacket I decided to hang on for their own good. In a flash Dr. Norris began biting my arm and hand over and over until one of those needle-like fangs pierced a vulnerable seam in my glove and into my hand. Dr. Norris disappeared into the woods but my hand blew up like the infected flesh balloon it was. Dr. Norris was correct in their actions (you don’t try to pick up feral cats), efficient, and remarkably calm. I had no recourse. I did set a live trap and took them in to be neutered, but that’s not exactly recourse. That was me, serving them, with a humble acknowledgement of the superiority of their teeth over my hubristic attempt to catch them with my hands.
How are you grateful to Donald? Let us count the ways. What are you looking forward to as the campaign progresses?
*Dr. Norris uses they/them pronouns. Dogs and cats do not possess our human construct of gender. They are not sexless, but they are genderless. Stop apologizing to each other for misgendering each other’s dogs at the dog park. It’s really okay.
My dear dog Lupine was perfect. He was a perfect dog in every way. He could kill any raccoon no matter how big or how much it tore him up, but he was docile with us and eager to please. He followed me from room to room all day, my silent adoring shadow. We had an old wing back chair bought for 5 dollars at a yard sale thirty years ago. The worn arms were already patched with purple corduroy when we got it. My oldest daughter asked if she could take it with her to her new place because it is so homey – the perfect definition of a perfect family heirloom.
Lupine was not allowed on the furniture but he understood that rule only applied when we we could see him and the seat of that chair was the perfect size for him to curl up in. When he got old and deaf he would think we were all gone when we weren’t, or not hear us when we got back and I we’d find him sound asleep in his chair. I’m telling you this because Lupine was perfect, like Donald’s phone call with Volodymyr. And because Donald’s understanding of the law is as simple minded as Lupine’s. But not perfect. Lupine was entirely pure of heart.
Donald eagerly released the transcript of that phone call with the comedian president of Ukraine that his people had striven to hide away for eternity. Donald said that once we the American People read it we would recognize, “that phone call was perfect.” He kept calling it a perfect phone call.
What is astonishing is that I think he really is so fundamentally amoral that he honestly doesn’t understand. The phone call was perfect in that he accomplished what he wanted without saying any of the words he was not supposed to say. He understands that the law prohibits him from saying certain things, and he didn’t, therefore the transaction was legal and perfect. If he can get what he wants done by circumlocution is all good.