Words for These Times

With thanks to Sharon Gelman for sharing this wisdom on Facebook.

What's in a Name?

So, of course, now that we know the Expected One is a girl, we're asking Justin and Claui what names they have in mind. 

They aren't exactly saying but they are open to suggestions -- from family and friends and all of you.

Some things to bear in mind -- the baby's last name will be Skemp (my married name; Lane is my maiden name) -- and since they've had a tradition of naming new calves after flowers, Justin's kinda opposed to flower names for his daughter. 

 So make a suggestion, should you feel so inspired -- the more the merrier.

(The girls in the pictures are two nieces and one great-niece -- I have two more nieces and two more great nieces, but they live far away in upstate NY, alas.)

Good News for These Times

Claui's blood work is back and everything looks good. And now we know the baby's gender.

I'm excited. Having raised two boys, this will be something a little different. I'm looking forward to participating in the raising of a little girl who will grow up to be a strong woman like her mother -- rather than a Disney princess. 

There will, however, probably be some pink and some ruffles here and there. Maybe a tutu to wear over her overalls.

Pictures from Another Autumn

Bedlam

The word bedlam (a place of uproar and confusion) derives from Bethlem Royal Hospital in London -- originally an insane asylum where outsiders could visit and gape at the poor unfortunates incarcerated there. (There's a much fuller description HERE.)

Why do I bring this up? Because for the past several days a patient on my hall has been bellowing at the top of her lungs, OHOHOHOHOHOHOH, over and over. It's the sound I think I make when I'm having a terrifying nightmare, though in actuality, mine is more of a strangled croak, John tells me. 

Sometimes it turns into a long drawn-out growl and I find myself hoping she isn't ambulatory. And sometimes it turns into nonsense OHOHOHWOGOHOTO, as if she's trying to communicate something.

I've asked the CNAs what's up here and all they can (or will) tell me is that she was in the hospital and now she's here. I'm wondering if this is post-operative dementia or what. Or maybe she's a HRC supporter, having trouble adjusting.

But, annoying as it is, it's also heartbreaking.

UPDATE: I was just told that the poor woman recently suffered a stroke. And that the only thing that will quiet her is when her family comes to visit. The thought that she's howling because she's alone and afraid is even worse.

Counting my blessings . . .

 

Another Day . . .Another Trip to the Wound Care Doctor

My chariot awaits . . .

This was on Tuesday and the air was smoky from the many forest fires burning in western NC.

Still, an outing is an outing.

And I had excellent news -- counting from my first visit two weeks ago, the wound is 87% healed and much diminished in size. The doctor said that my progress was 'phenomenal' and that I obviously have a very strong constitution. (It must be all that clean living.)

I got a picture of the wound to share with one of the nurses back at the facility but it's so gross looking, I can hardly stand it. It looks a bit like the inside of a pomegranate. But I'll spare you all that and leave you with this selfie.

For Better or Worse

Yesterday was John's and my 53rd anniversary and though neither of us felt much like celebrating, we celebrated anyway, dammit!

John prepared lunch at home (filet mignon, sauteed shitakes, baked potatoes, and green beans) and brought it to the facility, along with china, cloth napkins, and silverware. Bubbly too.  And we enjoyed a meal together -- me in the hospital bed, him in my wheelchair, while we shook our heads over the election results.

Though flight to Canada or New Zealand has its appeal, we're not going anywhere. Our move to the farm, back in '75, was in part due to the unsettled political climate of that era and was intended to give us a life that could be close to self sufficient in scary times.  All that's in place still.

But my heart breaks when I read on Facebook posts from Muslim-Americans and African-American  and LGBT folks who fear for their safety in this post-civil society. My heart breaks when I think that this country will be in the hands of climate change deniers. My heart breaks at the thought of the undoing of abortion rights . . .

For better or worse, this is still my country. And while the Republicans in charge of all three branches of the government will own the coming changes for better or worse, those of us, the popular majority of us, must dig in for a long opposition.

I know that not all Trump supporters are hateful racists and xenophobes-- many were voting in hopes of lower taxes, better jobs. Many were voting out of a profound dissatisfaction with and distrust of government. 

I don't agree with them and I have doubts about how things will work out. But we'll see.

The positives I take away from this long, bitter election season are the friends of all persuasions I've made on Facebook -- friends of a diversity not available in my 'real' life. And most of all, the many women who were empowered to speak out about their own negative experiences with the patriarchy -- those women won't be silenced any more. Though our candidate didn't succeed in breaking that glass ceiling, it's full of millions of cracks that can never be repaired.

A Strange, Sad Road Ahead . . .

Alas. . .

Hold Fast

Who Decides?

I saw these on Facebook and a chill ran over me. Is this what we want? 

And if so, who says what kind of holy? (Definition:dedicated or consecrated to God or a religious purpose; sacred.)

Apart from the fact that we are a society with many people, some religious and some not, whose definition of holy are we talking about? There's the Roman Catholic religious purity the Inquisition sought to impose on all in Spain and the New World; the Puritan tenets that were imposed on England during Cromwell's time; there's Sharia law; there's the rigid tenets of Orthodox Judaism --  I could go on.

If we were talking about the Native American belief that the Earth is holy and not to be defiled, I might be able to get behind that. But I have a Real Feeling that the fella who posted these is talking about a Christian sort of holy. 

Even if the USA is predominately Christian -- that's no mandate for imposing a Christian world view on everyone. And even if those Christians could agree on the rules, a look at the dissension within various denominations suggests that an agreement would be unlikely. The mere fact that there are denominations points up the lack of agreement.

And then there's that word MAKE.  There's a suggestion of force or coercion in that word that sends me right back to the Spanish Inquisition -- and the Taliban.

Last of all, Make America Holy AGAIN.

When was this time that America was holy? The Salem Witch Trials? The long years when most Christian churches supported slavery or segregation or Jim Crow laws? The glory years of burning crosses? Of punishing adulterers? 

I'd really like to understand the mindset of the people who support this notion. Or if they understand what it would be like to live in a theocracy. And how that's exactly where this simple-minded slogan points.

Roof Lines

In My Window . . .

I think it's pretty adorable that my two sons, without knowledge of each other's choice, brought me almost identical orchids,

Fiddling with the new camera some more . . .

Still learning . . .

That's a river rock over to the left -- I felt the two orchids needed something to balance them and John indulged me by bringing the rock from home.

The Best News Ever!

No, nothing about the book -- far better! Justin and Claui are having a baby!  Claui is 12 weeks along and said baby is the size of a passion fruit (how appropriate) --which is to say, not quite 3 inches long.

They gave us the news a month ago but asked us to wait till the 3 month milestone before going public.  Claui came by yesterday with pictures after her appointment  -- the profile of the face was clear in one and little hands in another. But nothing to indicate boy or girl.

For years I've enjoyed my nieces and nephews, along with my blog friends' grandchildren. And am so looking forward to this new little someone in the holler. . .  in the family . . . in our hearts!