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the governor could still call
Saturday, November 12 2016
This morning I drank my first coffee since that unpleasantness earlier in the week. I black tea all the time, but there's something about real coffee that makes for a peppier caffeine buzz. I felt almost elated as Gretchen and I sat in front of the fire, she doing her crossword puzzle, and me flipping back a forth between some light news consumption and a lot of Facebooking. In the past I'd mostly been narcissistic with Facebook, choosing to stick mostly to my own wall (and those of my trolls). But today I kept revisiting my news feed to see what my friends were saying. Most of then were still expressing their horror at the aforementioned unpleasantness, though I have a few giddy right wingers in there, if only to keep me out of epistemic closure. They're probably good for me, and I'm probably good for them. But right now we pretty much hate each other.
Meanwhile, I'd been tracking Neville's blip on the Whistle map. He seemed to be keeping within a very small area near where the Chamomile crosses the Stick Trail. Eventually he came home, but he never actually came into the house. He seemed to want to get Ramona to come back to where he'd been. Sure enough, his blip returned to where it had been. Eventually I became curious, and so did Gretchen, so we walked over to where the blip said he was. Neville wasn't far down the trail, and when he heard us approaching, he started barking at us aggressively. This is normal for him when he's taken by surprise in the forest. He then charged back to where he'd been and grabbed what looked like the remains of a deer leg joint. It still had tendons and ligaments attached to it, so it was a perfect natural chew toy. Neville was clearly beside himself with pride at having found this, and though he loves Ramona, he growled at her when she rudely tried to snatch it from his mouth (something Ramona never would've attempted had their relationship been more conventional, such as the one she'd had with Eleanor).
Lately Julius (aka "Stripey") has discovered a new place that he likes to sleep. We have a small table (with a one foot square surface) near the west wall of the living room, and on top of that is a wide, low wooden bowl. The bowl is one of many things new treasures that came from Gretchen's parents' house as they downsized prior to their move to The Watergate. I took a picture of him today and captioned it on Facebook with the caption I caption it with here:
here's our own little basket of deplorable, featuring Julius, aka "Stripey," our resident misogynist. he definitely voted for donald j. trump. "grab 'em by the pussy? where else is there to grab 'em?" (Click to enlarge.)
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This evening, Gretchen and I picked up Susan and David at their house and the four of us met Eva and Sandor for dinner at the Garden Café. The place was pretty full, which was to be expected for a Saturday night. Less expected perhaps was the cheer, though the crowd tonight was a youngish one, and it's hard for young people, with their limited range of experiences, to grasp the enormity of the danger that awaits the world.
A lot of our intitial conversation was about Donald Trump and what that means for, well, everything. It was a downer, but at least we had each other. Later David told us about a hammer he has been forging in a blacksmithing shop. By the end there we'd finally gotten back to our usual conversation of toilet humor and belly laughs. For now we laugh, but, as I said tonight, it's a little like we're all "on death row." (The governor could still call, but don't get your hopes up.)
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