I’m still irked about my little Facebook fracas. It’s hanging in the back of my mind until I find that perfect retort. That thing I should’ve said. The way-homer. I’ve been comforting myself by retweeting all the things that I think help prove my point (shouting into the void). If I ever run into those guys again I will have an hour-long multimedia PowerPoint presentation ready about the fallacy of their position. I’m convinced that at the rotten heart of all the weird anti-Hillary hysteria is a kernel of misogyny that even its own proponents can’t recognize. (I’ve based this theory on current events plus watching my own Dad since the Bill Clinton era.) There’s an utter lack of logic behind it that I cannot comprehend.
But I’m fascinated by why I’m so irked. What’s going on with us that we’re so divided? It’s like we’re infected with something. Because I know that in the Underside they would have the equal but opposite reactions to my points. Equally disturbed and unable to comprehend why I’d vote for Hillary.
I keep thinking “Carville and Matalin have been married for how many years?” and I’m going to re-read this book – “The Righteous Mind,” by Jonathan Haidt – which I found really helpful in trying to understand others and when arguing with my father.
Almost 90 degrees here today. Spring has sprung. For me this means digging out from a mound of black boots, leggings and scarves/sweaters/shrouds and unboxing my skirts, sandals and less voluminous sweaters. I’m still hiding a bit but I let my legs see the sun. Let the toes breathe.
It’s a bit of a shock to get everything out in the light after a winter spent under cover. I’m rumpled and I’ve got some glare on me like one of those Twilight vampires but not in a cool way. Shedding layers should be a good thing. My key to warm-weather success has always been a fresh pedicure and brightly colored toenail polish to compensate and distract from my winter flab and pallor. Best foot forward, right? But this year, hell no. One more flaw. One more brick in the wall.
I’m missing a toenail.
The big one. Left foot.
Look away, I’m hideous.
Over the past few months, while my feet were hidden away in socks and boots, sort of a perfect storm of crap happened to that toe, and the last straw was when I managed to drop a sonicare toothbrush square on it. Most of the nail cracked off and what’s left is purple. There’s no disguising or camouflaging it.
So today’s touchstone has been running through my head since I got my sandals out from the top shelf of the closet. Happy Spring.
Yes, it’s Saturday and I’m writing a post for last Tuesday. Do you sense a problem here? Like I don’t have a lot of discipline or follow-through? I know, I know.
I’m still cogitating on what my daily themes will be. I hate routine and structure but I think I need a fallback to spark SOME writing. It’s got to be something that I actually could write about more than once, as well. So for Tuesdays, I was inspired by this:
I drop “you never know when you may have to jam” in conversation now and again. And if the person I’m talking to recognizes it I know I have found a kindred spirit. So Tuesdays will be about those random snippets of dialogue or pictures or whatever that I keep coming back to. They always make me smile.