It would be funny if I didn't feel like cryin'

No, not about my own uterus (which I *will* have taken out this November), but about the political climate. It is what makes me avoid talking to my mother and stepfather, who are not even nominally Republicans, because I find myself stepping in it all the time.

I see Romney and Ryan and I think about the rich kids I served while working in college - the kids who waved their parents' credit cards in my face with the "don't you know who I am?" smirks. I see the Obamas and I think about the smart kids I worked with - the ones who were going on to grad school on their own merits. I know who I want to represent me and that little hapa son of mine.

Conniving, as always

it’s advisable to check in advance to confirm engagements.

From "The New Yorker"

ROCK AND POP

Musicians and night-club proprietors live complicated lives; it’s advisable to check in advance to confirm engagements.

You can say that again. A poor band from New Zealand didn't make their appointed date in our living room - twice. The first time, their newly minted old van sprung an oil leak and the second, there was a catastrophic implosion between the band members. It left them all traumatized, so very far from home, and at a loss for how to move on. We're in the midst of a heatwave, and I had to urge the members with the van not to try their maiden voyage up US395. 

In some way, the cancellation was a great way to have a wee gathering. I got the chance to dance with dear Karen and Betsey and some new lovely folks moving to town. The first set of songs - led by "How Soon is Now" kicked off what I affectionately call "Emo Hour."

Stephen took to calling me Yoko - because I got involved with a band, and they broke up. Hey, he's Brazillian and isn't saddled with all the PC stuff and for that, I can roll with the name. 

It's bliss.

What is wrong with me when I find 2 hours in the MRI tube a mini vacation? I didn't even get to bring  music! I turned all the clunking and thunking into some Germantechno lullaby and fell asleep.

Turns out, my angry lady bits are getting the better of me this year. I now have license to act like a crazy middle aged woman because all the bits are going haywire. (There is a reason they named the hysterectomy the hysterectomy. Turns out, I don't need one - yet). There's a good, very methodical new doctor in town and we are slowly, slowly figuring it all out.

With all the change happening in folks' lives (change without trauma like last year - mind, when it felt like all the relationships we knew - ours included-  imploded, exploded, and everything in-between), I am grateful that I still like this life, have insurance, have goals. Most importantly, the other day, I was able to tell Matt that if I dropped dead tomorrow, the ONLY thing I would regret would be not seeing Babbo grow up. Otherwise, I could die a happy (mostly) and content person.

In a related note re: change - wishing the Gaggias well in their new careers and lives in Ventura. It's rare that folks make the foray back into the "big city" - but being realistic - it's hard to make a living here in Bishop.