Thanks a LOT!! (plus update...heh)

This morning I got tagged with a meme by dear Kay. Problem is, I don't dare send out any more memes, especially with all the linking rules. Most of my online friends who actually respond to memes apparently can barely turn on the computer. One of them just recently said she didn't know how to PASTE (and I don't believe you for one minute, EJT). These are all very smart people, so maybe they're just trying to get out of doing things like this. Ha. Message to Kay: we're so smart, why haven't WE thought of this?? Next time Ole Phat Stu lobs a meme at you, say "Who are you and what's a meme?"

Anyway, here are six random (boring, inane) items re moi:

1) In automotive terms, I'm an old clunker, going around patched together with various spare parts: 3 stents, 1 plastic lens in place of the old cataract-laden natural lens, one cochlear implant, and two lovely bridges that allow me to smile without looking like a jack-o-lantern. People even have told me they can see my plastic lens glinting back at them from whichever eye it's in.

2) When cleaning out the drawers of my nightstand yesterday, I found all kinds of useful things (like my ID card for Johns Hopkins Listening Center) and my perfectly good but batteryless fake Rolex purchased in NYC not far from Times Square). I tossed out some bedtime reading by..heh...Anais Nin, however...not only did it not turn me on, it wasn't even INTERESTING.

3) I can change my mind and plans with lightning speed and don't much bat an eye. For example, I am no longer (as of 8:33 a.m., Sunday, November 16) going to move to Glover Park (see last week's post with all the pitchers). An apartment manager called me on Thursday and apologized for not calling me back two weeks ago when I first contacted her. She had nothing then, but she now has three apartments available, and her building is across the street from a Metro stop! The apartments have all the light and space of, and are cheaper than, the other place, but in addition to proximity to Metro, they have in-house laundry machines and a big Safeway behind the building. There are no woods to speak of, and the neighborhood is what they call "up-and-coming" here in DC. It reminds me of my old neighborhood in Prospect Heights (minus the brownstones) or the area around City College in Harlem. I loved both of those neighborhoods. I'll take some photos as soon as I decide when and whether it's safe to go around with a camera hanging from my neck. Maybe I'll take it with me on my first visit to the fried chicken place on the corner.
[UPDATE...for those of you to whom I sent the Glover Park website, here's Prince of Petworth...somebody you may have read about in Mad DC Cabbie]...


4) I do all my wash about every other day in one machine, and I don't sort colors. This works because I use approximately one tablespoon of pricey liquid detergent from WF and cold water only. I do make exceptions....I don't wash sheets with other items mainly because in the dryer, the other items (like my pathetic t-shirts and jeans) wind up wadded into the corners of the fitted bottom sheet, and they don't dry well. Nuts to that.

5) I can't remember squat, but who cares? It seems perfectly normal.

6) I am a yellow or blue dog Democrat (which one is it that's the diehard version?) and have been for most of my life except when I was married. My husband was chair of the Young Republicans in our county, so to keep the peace, I switched. In fact, I served as a Republican election judge in our little precinct, and that was some job....we had to be there from like 6 or 7 in the morning to set up and stay ALL DAY until maybe 1 or 2 a.m. the following morning till after we had counted and recorded all the votes. I discovered during this period of apostasy that if you scratch a Republican OR a Democrat, what you find underneath is a POLITICIAN--someone who will say anything, depending on who's listening, to get a vote. And I absolutely do NOT see why we don't use paper ballots any more. If we can deforest whole hillsides to make paper towels, we can do paper ballots.

What's It To You?--Updated Sunday 11/16

Kay's Thinking Cap has posted Keith Olberman's Proposition 8 comment. I'd post Olberman's video here, too, but it's impossible to copy the embed info. It's either not there or truncated. Now what?
[UPDATE: Ha! Found it!]


Happily, Kay's Friday Groaner is still working....where she gets these corny jokes, I dunno. I think this one really touched bottom.....

Goat cheese.....

Oy....somebody at Shakesville has come up with a pasta dish with goat cheese to soothe our battered spirits, etc. or something like that.

Problem is, I don't like goat cheese even a little bit. The only goat cheese I ever ate that I loved (and which I ate because I didn't KNOW what it was) was something a wine merchant in Ravello served last summer. I loved it because it absolutely did NOT TASTE REMOTELY LIKE GOAT CHEESE.

Goat cheese to me tastes like...well...GOAT.

Every time I try to eat it, i remember the old billy goat in the Bismarck zoo.

If you got near him, you could smell him for WEEKS. Whatever creates goat scent got right into your nose hairs and stayed there. For a long time. GACK!!!

I think goat cheese smells and tastes like CAMEL BUTT. Peeeyoo!!!!

So save the goat cheese recipes, ok? Martha Stewart has gone hog wild with these recipes lately. She's also into "southern" turkey. I don't want to eat turkey that's been basted with brown sugar, ok? Martha and people like Paula Deen and Emeril can get together and ruin everything if they want, but don't ask me to follow their recipes. Food used to be a fun magazine. Now it just makes me queasy.

Can I Touch Them?

Found THIS on my cybertravels....



Who can afford lobster these days? We're all bragging about how much we've been cutting down. Aha! I don't see any MILK in there for the kid....

"Goodbye and Good Riddance"

The following is about the only sensible thing I've read since the election. It's on Truthout.org, and Paul Waldman is the author.

His last paragraph sums it up well:

This presidency is finally over. We can say goodbye to an administration whose misdeeds have piled so high that the size of the mountain no longer shocks us. In our lifetimes, we will see administrations of varying degrees of competence and integrity, some we'll agree with and some we won't. But we will probably never see another quite like the one now finally reaching its end, so mind-boggling a parade of incompetence and malice, dishonesty, and immorality. So at last - at long, long last - we can say goodbye.

And good riddance.

The other sensible thing I've seen is on LRH's blog today.

Old Dudes in Dresses....

Please, please, please visit Echidne's most recent post, part of which says

Then the bad news: The Catholic bishops have stated this:

The nation's Catholic bishops Tuesday approved a statement declaring that if the Democratic-controlled Congress and the incoming Obama administration enact proposed abortion rights legislation, they would see it as an attack on the church.

I'm not quite sure how abortion rights legislation would be an attack against celibate men, but let that one pass. And yes, I know what they mean by "the church."

And by all means read the comments, which have provided the best laughs of the day.

This one, for example, by AndiF:

Well it's only fair they see it that way because I see their position as an attack on women. So there's my choice ... attack the rich, powerful, women-killing Catholic church hierarchy or help the rich, powerful, women-killing Catholic church hierarchy kill more women. Hmm, how to choose.

Or this one by Blue-eyed Violet:

A religion which feeds on its young would certainly be opposed to birth control, no?

Perhaps the "Democratic-controlled (sic) Congress" might consider the Catholic Bishops' statement as an attack on the separation of church and state?

I'm all for removing the tax-deferred status of churches, and using the money to fund women's health clinics here at home and abroad. Come to think of it, for that kind of money, we could probably fund universal health care.

Make the bishops pay for their own pointy hats.

Or this one by CParis:

Can we go to war now? I'd love to see some feminazi-homosexual-vegans smackdown on those Swiss Guards (you know the guys in the striped uniforms and pantyhose).
Would be better than WWE Raw!

Gotta quit...laughing too hard.

Meditation

When Cathy, Squeak, and I walked the 2.1 miles to Glover Park (above, near the entrance to a walking trail) in my new neighborhood, I thought of my favorite meditation from the Shabbat Morning Service booklet from Shir Tikvah, St. Paul, MN:

o god of serenity, grant me the ability to be alone:

may it be my custom to go outdoors each day,
among the trees and grasses, among all growing things,
there to be alone and enter into prayer.

there may i express all that is in my heart,
talking with the one to whom i belong.

and may all grasses, trees, and plants
awake at my coming.

send the power of their life into my prayer,
making whole my heart and my speech
through the life and spirit of growing things,
made whole by their transcendent source.

Gingko trees spilling their gold across from Montrose Park on R Street NW.


Cathy and Squeak (barely visible ahead of Cathy) walking west past Montrose Park toward what will be my new home.


Remember the post last week about the Osage Oranges? Here they are, right along the hedge in Montrose Park.


Two miles later, here we are, almost at the new, huge park just a short block from my new dwelling.

It hasn't been easy to give up my wonderful little condo, but my new neighborhood is a wonder. Who knew? The people are very friendly, and things are not quite as rushed or NOISY as they are here. There are lots of little kids and happy dogs. The park shown is a national park, but it has two areas devoted to community gardens. One is right along the edge just up the street from the first picture, and another is deep in the middle of the forest.

A CROW!!!

It's 8:00 a.m., Sunday, November 9, 2008, and it's a beautiful day outside my den. [And no, there are no birds in the above photo...as usual, I was too slow.] I've been sitting at my desk alternately reading online and thinking of all the things I have to pack on this, my next-to-last weekend in this condo.

A couple of months ago, I started being able to HEAR the birds and crickets outside even with the windows closed. But this morning all my little friends were being very quiet. So I was sitting here just on the point of reading today's Truthout.org, when I heard "caw, caw, caw." Then another "caw, caw, caw."

Where could that sound be coming from? The playful, imaginative little girl on the third floor makes some interesting noises, and the dog right above me occasionally barks, but this didn't sound like them.

Then I heard another "caw, caw, caw...." That couldn't be a crow, could it? I've not seen a single crow here since West Nile virus wiped them out of this portion of Rock Creek Park about 5 years ago. An NPR report last year talked about the decimation of the crow population, particularly. Nearly half of the total crow population in the U.S. were felled by this virus, and the three crows who had been visiting our side yard daily at morning twilight since I moved here in 1998 were gone.

I heard another series of caws, looked out my window, and saw a big CROW flying through the trees in the cemetery out back. A CROW!!! OMG, a crow!

I'll have to tell ASCAR about this!! I've barely glanced at the past couple of issues of its wonderful newsletter. It was too painful to think that we may have seen the last of crows here. Some people expressed skepticism about the death of so many birds in Rock Creek Park. The person thought we'd be up to our ankles in dead birds, but no. I did see two dead crows lying on the soccer field at Gallaudet, but the ubiquitous DC rats made short order of their carcasses.

I've got my camera out, and if I hear any more cawing, I'm not giving up until I get a photo of such a miraculous visitor.

Say No to Joe!!

There is a fly in the ointment in the Democratic congress: Joe Lieberman. Here he is threatening the Democratic Caucus in his press conference today.



Wotta schmuck!

Jane Hamscher of FireDogLake has a petition going. Here it is. Please sign it and send it to the Democratic Steering and Outreach Committee.

Enough of that lying, backstabbing s.o.b.

Denyce Graves...an inspiration

Curious about Ms. Graves's life, I googled around and found the following on Answers.com:

A much-loved native daughter of Washington, D.C., celebrated mezzo- soprano Denyce Graves is international opera's newest star. USA Today has predicted that Graves will likely be one of the twenty-first century's operatic superstars. In her signature role as Bizet's sultry, passionate Carmen, she has won glowing reviews worldwide. Jerry Schwartz noted in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution that critics have called her Carmen "one of the most stunning performances ever of that storied role." The Wall Street Journal called her "the hottest Carmen on the opera circuit today," and Martin Feinstein, former general director of the Washington Opera, stated simply, "she is the definitive Carmen."

Following a three-year apprenticeship with the Houston Grand Opera, where she made her debut as Hansel in Hansel and Gretel in 1989, Graves took the operatic world by storm. She has sung with tenor legends Placido Domingo, Luciano Pavarotti, and Jose Carreras. She has appeared on the stages of the world's most famous opera houses, including the Vienna State Opera, La Scala in Milan, and the Royal Opera in London's Covent Garden. Graves made her debut at New York's Metropolitan Opera to critical acclaim in the fall of 1995, in the title role of Carmen.

Reviewers have been effusive in their descriptions of Graves's voice. In 1997 Tony Kornheiser wrote in the Washington Post, "Denyce Graves's voice is spectacular. It's so clear and clean you feel you can see through it." Herbert Kupferberg described it as "sumptuous but mercifully light and flexible" in Parade in 1994 and in a 1994 article for American Record Guide, David Reynolds called it "a full and voluptuous instrument indeed." Others were more specific. Reviewer Anthony Tommasini wrote in the New York Times in 1995 that Graves has "a classic mezzo-soprano voice with dusky colorings and a wide range, from her chesty low voice to her gleaming top notes." Schwartz described it as "quite distinctive--rich, burnished, deep." He concluded, "Her wonderfully tasteful musicianship allows it to project with a directness that few singers in any age have been able to manage."

Denyce Antionette Graves was born March 7, 1964 to Charles Graves and Dorothy (Middleton) Graves-Kenner. The middle child of three, Denyce and her siblings were raised by their mother on Galveston Street in southwest Washington, D.C. Charles Graves walked out on his family when Denyce was not yet two and his youngest daughter not yet born. Dorothy Graves worked hard to support her family, first as a laundress and then as a clerk typist at Federal City College--now the University of the District of Columbia. "Our neighborhood was tough and chaotic ... and very poor," Graves told Marilyn Milloy of Essence. "Violence, drugs, hopelessness, despair--it was all there. Yet with all that, my mother held her ground and built a solid foundation for our little family."

Dorothy Graves built that foundation on a bedrock of love, discipline, and faith. She was strict, making sure her children had no spare time in which to find trouble. Regular chores and homework filled much of their after-school time, and Dorothy took care of the rest by scheduling various activities for the evenings, such as sewing, report writing, gospel singing, and church attendance. "Thursday night was always for our singing group. I loved to sing early on," Graves told Essence. Popular music was forbidden in the Graves home, as were certain television shows that Dorothy felt portrayed blacks in a demeaning manner. As a result of this sheltered upbringing, Denyce was neither familiar with nor especially interested in whatever was considered "cool" at the time. Consequently, she stood out as different from her peers. Classmates called her "Hollywood" merely because she was aloof. Her mother balanced the discipline with encouragement. She told her children they were special, that their throats and brains had been kissed by God, that they could do anything.

Graves's first mentor was her elementary school music teacher, Judith Grove, who, through a series of job changes, followed her to Friendship Junior High and on to high school. Impressed by the girl's commitment to hard work and her serious attitude toward music, in 1977 Grove encouraged her to apply to Duke Ellington School of the Arts, a public performing arts high school in Georgetown. Graves won admittance by passing an audition. Although her mother had serious qualms at the prospect, Graves did not.

She felt immediately at home at Ellington. She no longer stood out; all the students there were committed, working toward similar goals. She recalled in an article in the Washingtonian, "I felt that I could finally breathe. There have been few things in my life where I said 'This is it,' but when I walked through that door, there was a rightness in my bones about it."

While a student at Ellington, Graves saw her first opera. She was 14. Attending a dress rehearsal at the Kennedy Center for Beethoven's Fidelio, she was captivated. Some time after that, a teacher gave her a recording of Marilyn Horne singing an aria from the opera Cavalleria Rusticana. Playing the aria until she had it memorized, Graves determined to become an opera singer.

Graves finished high school in just two years, graduating in 1981. She was offered scholarships to several colleges, but chose the Oberlin College Conservatory in Ohio. The school had offered only a partial scholarship, so she worked several jobs to make ends meet. At Oberlin she studied under reknowned voice teacher Helen Hodam. Reaching mandatory retirement age in 1984, Hodam left Oberlin to teach at the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston, and Graves followed her there. Working up to three jobs at a time to support herself, it would take her four more years to graduate. She earned her Bachelor of Music in 1988.

Before she graduated, Graves entered the Metropolitan Opera Regional Auditions in 1986. She won. "I had to win," she told the New York Times. "I was four months behind in my rent. I couldn't pay for the rented dress I was wearing." When she got to New York to sing in the finals, however, she was stricken with a mysterious throat ailment. It got worse as she sang. Forced to withdraw from the competition, she saw 11 specialists before the problem was diagnosed as a treatable thyroid condition. Disheartened, she took a secretarial position and did not sing again for a year.

Then Graves received a series of phone calls that would change her life. The Houston Grand Opera called to invite her to audition for its opera studio, a young artists training program. The disaster of the Metro finals was too fresh an experience, and Graves said thank you, but her singing days were over. Houston called again a couple of months later and renewed the offer. Her answer was still thanks, but no thanks. Six weeks passed and Houston called a third time. This time, friends persuaded her that this was meant to be, so she flew to Texas to audition. She had not sung in more than a year. She took her time warming up, and then sang Carmen's seguidilla. New York quoted Graves as saying of the experience, "That day I sang better than when I was well and in good voice. It was a revelation from God."

Graves spent three years in Houston. She told Essence that her life changed completely. "My job there was to do supporting roles or cover for other mezzos as well as grunge work--singing in the malls at Christmas time, things like that," she said. "But I also met the great tenor Placido Domingo, and from that point on things began to happen." Impressed with her talent and drive, Domingo became her mentor.

Her debut in a lead role came in 1989 in Houston, as Hansel in Hansel and Gretel. Graves was invited to sing in the Tucker Foundation's 1990 Gala Concert, which was broadcast nationally in 1991 on PBS's Great Performances. Building on her Houston apprenticeship, she has proven herself a major talent ever since. She has sung leading roles in all the most respected opera houses in the world. Although she had sung other roles early in her career, her characterization of Carmen generated the most excitement. By early 1996 she had sung in more than 30 productions of that opera. Hailed by enthusiastic critics as "the world's reigning Carmen," it has become her signature role. In a 1995 review in the New York Times, Tommasini wrote, "She is a compelling stage actress who exude[s] the sensuality that any Carmen must have but few do." Tim Page observed in the Washington Post, "We do not merely listen to her Carmen, we experience it; she not only sings the role of the fiery Gypsy girl, she embodies her." She made her much-anticipated debut at New York's Metropolitan Opera in 1995 as Carmen. Linda Killian noted in the Washingtonian in 1996, "Whenever an opera house anywhere in the world thinks about doing a production of Carmen, Graves is at the top of the list. She has reached the point where she says no to Carmen as often as she says yes." The reason, Killian explained, is that "Domingo and others have warned her that she mustn't become typecast, that she needs to expand her repertoire and her voice by doing other roles." Graves explained the benefit of other roles to her voice in New York. "Mozart and bel canto--I swear to God, they make your voice better. They're difficult, especially for a voice like mine. My voice is broad. It's fat. I need to work to line it up, to make it skinny. With Carmen you have to watch out. It's so theatrical. It can take the sheen off the voice and get it out of line, make it hard." Recent seasons have found her in roles as varied as Baba the Turk in Stravinsky's The Rake's Progress, Charlotte in Massenet's Werther, and Dalila in Saint-Saens's Samson et Dalila. In 1997 and 1998 she sang several recitals and concerts around the United States. She has sung at the White House and performed with Placido Domingo on his Concert for the Planet Earth, which was broadcast worldwide from the United States summit on the environment in Rio de Janeiro in 1992.

In 1990 Graves married classical guitar importer David Perry. They met the year before while performing with the Wolf Trap Opera Company in Virginia. Perry was a lutenist in the orchestra. He travels with Graves much of the time, handling details for her and calming her nerves before performances by playing classical guitar for her. "My husband is a rock in this whole crazy turbulence of a career," Graves told the Christian Science Monitor. They have a home in Leesburg, Virginia.

Graves is conscious of being a role model for black children, just as Leontyne Price was an early inspiration for her. She is also grateful to those who broke the operatic color barrier before her. Her own struggles to reach the top, she told Ebony, "are nothing in comparison to the suffering of those people who allowed me to be in the position that I'm in today." In spite of her meteoric rise to stardom, Graves has encountered racism, and believes she has lost out on roles because she is black. And, having pursued a career in what has been traditionally an elitist art form dominated and controlled by whites, she has been criticized by blacks for wanting to be "white." Responding to those who would try to pigeonhole her as one thing or another, Graves had this to say to the Atlanta Journal- Constitution in 1996: "Anyone who thinks the world of international opera is any easier for black people than anything else has never been there. But bitterness can eat a hole in your soul." Killian noted in The Washingtonian that Graves strives to leave race aside as she hones her craft. She wrote, "Graves does not want to be a black opera singer. She want to be an opera singer who happens to be black."

Having reached the top, Graves's struggle continues. "The key in this business is not only about getting your foot in the door," she told Essence, "it's about demanding such a standard of excellence from yourself that you stay in the room. The ultimate goal, in my opinion, is for people to flock to the theatre not only to see Carmen, but to see Denyce Graves." If her bookings--which stretch into the next century--are any indication, Denyce Graves will be staying in the room for many years to come.

Graves was a student at the Duke Ellington School of the Arts, an elite DC public high school which is not too far from where I live. Often, Ellington students ride the same bus I do. High school students riding the metro or the bus here can be full of animal spirits after school--they laugh, they're loud, they eat food (illegal on the metro), they sprawl over a couple of seats and ignore the other riders. The Ellington students have their fun, but they're also friendly and polite. Two years ago, I had a NANOWRIMO tattoo on my forearm, and several of these students, who had moved over to let me sit down, noticed it and asked where I got it. I told them about National Novel Writing Month, and they were delighted to know such a thing existed. "Good luck with your novel," they said when I got off the bus.

Next time I'm on public transportation here in the late afternoon, and a bunch of high school kids get on, I'll be paying attention to see if any of them looks as if he or she could have Denyce Graves's potential for hard work and stardom. You never know with kids....

Momentous Day

Last night, before coming home and turning on the TV in time to witness (oh, joy!!) John McCain concede the election to Barack Obama, I saw--and heard--my very first live opera, a dress rehearsal of Bizet's "Carmen"! It was performed at the Kennedy Center Opera House, and the woman singing the role of Carmen is a native of Washington, D.C.: Denyce Graves. I am still too full of images and sounds to write about it, but here is Ms. Graves singing the "Habanera."

We Did It!!

As Jim in Florida said last night, "HOW SWEET IT IS!!" Our work of repairing the Bush years' damage is just beginning, and the media eejits who enabled it will be back on their nasty jobs with today's morning editions. Still, it's nice to know that those of us who have dropped certain big city newspapers did not do it because they were too favorable to Obama. Quite the opposite.

Just in time, too, a Cuban artist and a bunch of friends & helpers created this lovely work of art on a beach south of Barcelona, Spain. Thanks to Echidne for posting this.

Echidne and Emily's List also picked up on how important women's votes were yesterday.

And even though the networks did not seem able to talk about anything but race last night, AGE was more important. This time, the young voters went for Obama...and I have my two grandnieces Helen and Sarah to thank for steering me in the right direction with their very early efforts. It was way last year that Sarah invited me to contribute to Obama via her website. At the time, I was still supporting John Edwards of unhappy memory, but I did contribute to Obama for Sarah.

I kept contributing to Obama and also to the women candidates identified by Emily's List as struggling in fierce races.

I feel very sad that California's Proposition 8 passed, but I no longer feel helpless about such things. Can we overcome this? YES WE CAN!!!!

What a glorious day!

How About a Little Benny Hill for Election Day??

First, the theme....as played by Boots Randolph, Yackety Sax....



The Wishing Well



Best of Benny Hill, misc.

For Dave....

No, not THAT Dave--that Dave wrote it! The other Dave's wife has been going through the gauntlet with cancer, and I remembered that someone famous said he cured his illness with laughter (some of you smart people will remember just who that was). [UPDATE: it was Norman Cousins in his book, available from Amazon.com and other places. Thanks, Kay!] Anyway, this is the funniest thing I've read in a long time, so I'm posting it for Dave and anyone else who is under the weather. My pal Cynthia sent it to me last week, and as I read it on my pager, I laughed like an idiot on public transportation!! Get well everybody....

Dave Barry on his Colonoscopy ... This is from news hound Dave Barry's colonoscopy journal:

... I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis .

Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, 'HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it t fall into the hands of America 's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, 'a loose watery bowel movement may result.' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything.

And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, 'What if I spurt on Andy?' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.


Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this is, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Queen' has to be the least appropriate. 'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me. 'Ha ha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, ABBA was yelling 'Dancing Queen, Feel the beat of the tambourine,' and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that It was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.


ABOUT THE WRITER

Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald. On the subject of Colonoscopies...Colonoscopies are no joke, but these comments during the exam were quite humorous..... A physician claimed that the following are actual comments made by his patients (predominately male) while he was performing their colonoscopies:


1. 'Take it easy, Doc. You're boldly going where no man has gone before!


2. 'Find Amelia Earhart yet?'


3. 'Can you hear me NOW?'


4. 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?'


5. 'You know, in Arkansas , we're now legally married.'


6. 'Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?'


7. 'You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out...'


8. 'Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!'


9. 'If your hand doesn't fit, you must quit!


10. 'Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity.'


11. 'You used to be an executive at Enron, didn't you?'


12. 'God, now I know why I am not gay.'


And the best one of all.


13. 'Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up there?'

I can't leave this one alone....

Here, reprinted from Hullabaloo (Digby's blog), is the reason why I don't read the Washington Post. [Note: "Tristero" is one of Digby's blog's writers. Digby herself writes most of it, but she has excellent regular contributors, too.] Anyway, the Post's coverage is not only stupid, it's.....well, get a load of this:

Newspapers Ignore Corddry's Law And Readers Bid Them Adieu

by tristero

You do know the great Rob Corddry's famous law? "Reality has a clear liberal bias," he memorably intoned once on The Daily Show. A truly hilarious line [that] has never, ever, been less of a joke, (I wonder: Did he write that?).

As much as the rightwing and their enablers in the press try to ignore it, laws are laws and it's come back to bite them, bigtime in many ways, from the ghastly to the farcical. However, Glenn notes that WaPo's ombudsperson hasn't yet figured that out:

Deborah Howell, today wrote a column claiming that one reason that The Post and other papers are losing money is because they are "too liberal"; have had "more favorable stories about Barack Obama than John McCain," and "conservatives are right that they often don't see their views reflected enough in the news pages." To mitigate newspapers' financial problems, Howell decrees: "the imbalance still needs to be corrected." She adds: "Neither the hard-core right nor left will ever be satisfied by Post coverage -- and that's as it should be."

What if the actual facts -- i.e., "reality" -- are consistent with the views of "the hard-core left" and contrary to the views of the "hard-core right"? What if, as has plainly been the case, the conservatives' views are wrong, false, inaccurate? What if the McCain campaign was failing and relying on pure falsehoods and sleazy attacks, and The Post's coverage simply reflected that reality? It doesn't matter. In order to sell more newspapers, according to Howell, The Post's news coverage must shape itself to the Right and ensure that "their views [are] reflected enough in the news pages" (I don't recall Howell complaining when her newspaper -- according to its own media critic -- systematically suppressed anti-war viewpoints in its news pages and loudly amplified pro-Bush and pro-war views).

In Howell's view, The Post shouldn't determine its news reporting based on what is factually true. Instead, it should shape its coverage to please this discredited, failed political movement -- in order to sell more papers. That corrupt formula is, of course, what is now meant by "journalistic balance" -- say what both sides believe and take no position about what is true -- and it is precisely that behavior which propped up this incomparably failed and deceitful presidency for so long. The establishment media bears much of the responsibility for what has happened during the last 8 years, and amazingly enough, the lesson many of them seemed to have learned is that they didn't go far enough ("we're too liberal; we need to accommodate the Right more"). If there is an Obama presidency, watch for them very quickly to re-discover the long-dormant concept of "adversarial behavior."

Yep.

Yep, indeed. If we think we will be able to take a vacation from our outrage after we vote in Obama, we should realize the struggle will have just begun. And we should realize just who we are dealing with.

This 'n That, Sunday before THE ELECTION....

Snail's Tales has an interesting post today on steep roads in Istanbul and includes great photos of an Osage Orange tree at the top of one those steep roads.

He has an excellent closeup of an Osage Orange that Georgetown residents may recognize if they visit Montrose Park--the big dog park on R and 32nd Streets NW, where there are a couple of Osage Orange trees right near the hedge.

Osage Oranges actually look a bit like oranges because of their yellowish pebbly rind, but they are NOT EDIBLE.

Sometimes people bring them to sell at the Farmers Market at Dupont Circle on fall Sundays for two reasons: 1) they look weird enough to be sort of decorative if you're into natural fall displays, and 2) they are reputed to be good for repelling insects, particularly the German cockroach (those speedy, greasy-looking little brown ones that hitchhike home via grocery bags and newspapers, to name two of the most common routes).

Research in Iowa, among other places, has shown that some of the essential oils in the Osage Orange fruit will repel mosquitoes and cockroaches, but just putting the big fruits themselves out doesn't seem to do much except in old wives' tales. Being a big fan of home remedies of all kinds, I've set them out every year, and only once have I had a little brown roach zip around my kitchen counter following a trip to a NAMELESS SUPERMARKET whose emptied bag I left by the sink.

Today I set about making a big pot of yellow pea soup with pork according to Beatrice Ojakangas's sublime "Pea Soup Menu for Winter Fun" recipe, but already I've been forced to improvise. Whole Foods, no less, did NOT have any of those wonderful yellow whole dried peas--the kind familiar to Canadians in Habitant's canned pea soup--and that Ojakangas called "Swedish" peas.

I was forced to go to the Soviet Safeway (long lines, no food) on 17th Street to get some. Alas, even Safeway has given up on carrying yellow whole dried peas. Too much cooking, I guess. So I got a bag of yellow split dried peas. The esthetics of split dried peas is very different from that of whole dried peas, but they do not require overnight soaking. SCORE!!

And the 3-lb. fresh pork roast called for in the recipe was $7.95 a pound! So I bought 2.5 pounds of fresh pork Andouille sausage (for the less costly price of $5.95 a pound).

So now the soup is simmering away on my stove and will be done about 8 p.m. It smells absolutely wonderful. That Cajun sausage is really perking up those bland peas.

Dessert will be, again according to Ojakangas's prescription, Norwegian apple pie. This you make by buttering a 9" pie plate, chopping up a couple of tart apples and half a cup of nuts, and throwing in flour, sugar, vanilla, baking powder, cinnamon, and an egg. You mix it all up, pour it in the pie tin, and bake at 350 for 20-25 mins. NO pie crust! It's more like apple crisp, Ms. O says, but I've never eaten anything baked by a Norwegian that wasn't absolutely fab. Can't wait.

The only part of the menu for fun that I'm not trying tonight is the Finnish rye bread from scratch. One learns to wait for another day.

Also, I am just realizing that I have sold my beautiful home! WTF!!! Ah well, this is how it goes. I'll have another beautiful home....just have to be open to all the new possibilities.

Fascinating Blog Find

While meandering around the web looking for answers to why the snails were gathered together on the stone wall in Peggy's latest post, I discovered a fascinating blog right under my very nose. Snail's Tales originates in Germantown, MD, home of one of the colleges where Cathy teaches. Perhaps the blogger teaches there, also. He's clearly a serious scientist and nature lover. The blog (to this former biology major's delight) is full of posts on snails, birds, cats, and other creeping (and creepy, appropriately enough for Halloween) things. I especially love the post on hooded crows, which the blogger photographed in Istanbul. Crows are one of my loves. Here's a you-tube of a hooded crow calling in someone's back yard. I found this elsewhere on the web, not in Snail's Tales. The hooded crow is called a "hoodie" in northern Ireland, btw. (See, you can learn things from blogs!!)



I've added Snail's Tales to my list of blogs that I read regularly (not necessarily the same thing as often). Go take a look. He has a fascinating post on the theory of evolution, creationism, et al.

look at this!

Today's Blogging in Paris features Ms. T's magnificent jack-o-lantern. Go have a look!

Seven Things I Don't Do Any More--a meme for late October

As usual, this is another poached idea, and the person I poached it from had such a very thoughtful list, it inspired me. Getting older has meant shedding lots of the things I did when I was younger. Generally, it's a pleasant process, resulting in much less stress and expense.

1. I don't iron clothes or make my bed (that could count for two, but i stopped doing those two things about the same time--1965--so i'm counting them as one. if something needs pressing, I take it to the cleaners. And if i'm selling my house, of course i make the bed, but once the contract is in the bag...no way.

2. I don't do yoga any more, and I don't wear high heels. (another two-fer--they cancelled each other out)

3. I don't go to church any more, either. The last church i joined (briefly) asked me to declare i have accepted jesus christ as my lord and savior. i said i thought if jesus was going to save me, he'd have showed up by now.

4. I don't go dancing or playing pool in smoky places. Ish.

5. I don't watch TV other than one hour of Britcoms on an occasional Saturday night or read any newspapers other than very local ones (like Rock Creek Press, the Georgetowner, Dupont Current, etc.). i see articles from the NY Times often enough on Truthout.com--especially Frank Rich on Sunday--but I don't buy it and I don't read it, not even online.

6. i don't drink milk or beer any more. milk makes my feet hurt--i kid you not--and beer makes me crazy.

7. i don't own a car any more. i sold my last one in 1991, and it was one of the happiest days of my life: no more gas, no more insurance, no more repairs, no more standing by the roadside in high heels and those wienie nylons hitchhiking to work when the damn car broke down. you would be amazed at 1) who speeds past a well-dressed working woman stranded on her way to or from work and 2) who stops to help. (hint...one group usually includes those who are out of work and have alcohol on their breath at 7:30 a.m., and the other group drives cars you have to fill with premium gas.)

12 Important Reasons Why Gay Marriage Will Ruin Society

#1:
Out of the mouths of babes--and Canadians....I read this today at Ronniecat's blog. Click the link, and you can read it there your own self.

Some of you may be aware of a Proposition that will be on the ballot in California next week which, if passed, will repeal that state's current allowance of marriages between two men or two women. As a Canadian who has witnessed first-hand the longer-term effects of legalizing gay marriage on a society, I thought it was very important to reprint this list of 12 Important Reasons Why Gay Marriage Will Ruin Society before California voters go to the polls.

1. Homosexuality is not natural, much like eyeglasses, polyester, and birth control are not natural.

2. Heterosexual marriages are valid because they produce children. Infertile couples and old people cannot get legally married because the world needs more children.

3. Obviously gay parents will raise gay children because straight parents only raise straight children.

4. Straight marriage will be less meaningful, since Britney Spears's 55-hour just-for-fun marriage was meaningful.

5. Heterosexual marriage has been around for a long time, and it hasn't changed at all: women are property, Blacks can't marry Whites, and divorce is illegal. [Note to Ronnie and the author of these 12 reasons: maybe that last is true in Canada, but anybody can marry anybody else down here, no matter what color they are, and we can get divorced just by, well, divorcing.]

6. Gay marriage should be decided by the people, not the courts, because the majority-elected legislatures, not courts, have historically protected the rights of minorities.

7. Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are always imposed on the entire country. That's why we only have one religion in America. [Which one would THAT be?]

8. Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people makes you tall.

9. Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage license.

10. Children can never succeed without both male and female role models at home. That's why single parents are forbidden to raise children.

11. Gay marriage will change the foundation of society. Heterosexual marriage has been around for a long time, and we could never adapt to new social norms because we haven't adapted to cars or longer lifespans.

12. Civil unions, providing most of the same benefits as marriage with a different name are better, because a "separate but equal" institution is always constitutional. Separate schools for African-Americans worked just as well as separate marriages will for gays & lesbians.

The above list was compiled by GatorGSA , a group of people who clearly have their heads screwed on straight, no pun intended.

[Ronnie's note] [In all seriousness, marriage rights for gay men and women in California are seriously threatened by this proposition. The greatest outrage in my opinion is the pouring of millions of dollars into anti-gay-marriage propaganda ads by evangelical groups outside the state who presume to tell Californians what their values are. I can't even imagine the gutted feelings of married gay Californians who may be told for the second time that their lifelong commitment before their family, friends, any Higher Power they believe in, and the world is, sorry, invalidated. The Proposition 8 vote will be an important test of whether the US has made the leap with this election into the 21st century, or has not quite shaken off the yoke of theocracy. After the Presidential contest, Prop 8 will be my second-most-closely-worried-and-watched contest of this election.]

And, appropriately, here's #2:

It's an email from the director of the American Civil Liberties Union, Anthony Romero.

Dear ACLU Supporter,

I'm angry and heartsick about what may happen in California on November 4th.

In the most personal way possible, I'm writing to ask you for a favor: help us ensure that gay couples all across California keep their fundamental right to marriage -- the basic right to be treated just like anybody else.

I hope you will forgive the indulgence when I speak from the heart and tell you my personal story.

You see, I grew up in a loving and supportive household, where my family believed I could be anything I chose -- anything except being an openly gay man. Neither of my parents finished high school, and yet, they believed I could accomplish all I set out to do as I went off to Princeton University and Stanford Law School.

They got me through the toughest of times, scrimped and saved, and always believed that failure wasn't in the cards for me. They had more faith in me than I often had in myself. Whenever my parents visited me at Princeton, my Dad would slip a $20 bill in my pocket when my Mom wasn't looking. I never had the courage to tell him that the $20 wouldn't go very far towards my bills, books and tuition. But, it was his support and belief in me that sustained me more than the tens of thousands of dollars I received in scholarships.

When I finished college, they were hugely proud of my -- and their -- accomplishments. That was until I told them I was gay and wanted to live life as an openly gay man.

Though I always knew I was gay, I didn't come out to them for many years, as I was afraid of losing the love and support that had allowed me to succeed against all odds. When I did tell them, they cried and even shouted. I ended up leaving their home that night to spend a sleepless night on a friend's sofa. We were all heartbroken.

When my Mom and I spoke later, my Mom said, "But, Antonio (that's the name she uses with me), hasn't your life been hard enough? People will hurt you and hate you because of this." She, of course, was right -- as gay and lesbian people didn't only suffer discrimination from working class, Puerto Rican Catholics, but from the broader society. She felt that I had escaped the public housing projects in the Bronx, only to suffer another prejudice -- one that might be harder to beat -- as the law wasn't on my side. At the time, it felt like her own homophobia. Now I see there was also a mother's love and a real desire to protect her son. She was not wrong at a very fundamental level. She knew that treating gay and lesbian people like second class citizens -- people who may be worthy of "tolerance, " as Sarah Palin asserts, but not of equality -- was and still is the last socially-acceptable prejudice.

Even before I came out to them, I struggled to accept myself as a gay man. I didn't want to lose the love of my family, and I wanted a family of my own -- however I defined it. I ultimately chose to find my own way in life as a gay man. This wasn't as easy as it sounds even though it was the mid-1980s. I watched loved ones and friends die of AIDS. I was convinced I would never see my 40th birthday, much less find a partner whom I could marry.

As years passed, my Mom, Dad and I came to a peace, and they came to love and respect me for who I am. They even came to defend my right to live with equality and dignity -- often fighting against the homophobia they heard among their family and friends and in church.

The right to be equal citizens and to marry whomever we wish -- unimaginable to me when I first came out -- is now ours to lose in California unless we stand up for what's right. All of us must fight against what's wrong. In my 43 short years of life, I have seen gay and lesbian people go from pariahs and objects of legally-sanctioned discrimination to being on the cusp of full equality. The unimaginable comes true in our America if we make it happen. But, it requires effort and struggle.

One of the things I love about the ACLU is that it's an organization that understands we are all in this together. We recognize that injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.

Given what's at stake in the outcome of this election, I am personally appealing to you for help to fight the forces of intolerance from carrying the day in California next Tuesday.

If you have friends and family in California, please contact them right now, and ask them to vote NO on Proposition 8. You can send them a message here.

We need to make sure people keep in mind that gay people are part of every family and every community -- that like everyone else, gay people want the same rights to commit to their partners, to take care of each other and to take responsibility for each other. We shouldn’t deny that, and we shouldn’t write discrimination into any constitution in any state. Certainly, we can't let that happen in California after the highest court in the state granted gay and lesbian people their full equality.

Unfortunately, due to a vicious, deceitful $30 million advertising blitz, the supporters of Prop 8 may be within days of taking that fundamental right away.

To stop the forces of discrimination from succeeding, we have to win over conflicted voters who aren't sure they're ready for gay marriage but who are also uncomfortable going into a voting booth and stripping away people's rights. With the ACLU contributing time, energy and millions of dollars to the effort, we're working hard to reach those key voters before next Tuesday.

If you have friends and family in California, please contact them right now, and ask them to vote NO on Proposition 8. Share this email with them. Call them. Direct them to our website for more information.

Don't let other young people grow up to be afraid to be who they are because of the discrimination and prejudice they might face. Let them see a future that the generation before them couldn't even dream of -- a future as full and equal citizens of the greatest democracy on earth.

As Martin Luther King, Jr. reminded us, "The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice." As we strive to defeat Prop 8 and the injustice it represents, the ACLU is trying to make that arc a little shorter.

On behalf of my Mom and family, and on behalf of all the people who will never face legally-sanctioned discrimination, I thank you for being part of this struggle and for doing everything you can to help.

It is a privilege and honor to have you as allies in this fight for dignity and equality.

With enormous appreciation,
Anthony D. Romero

And here's a good P.S., which just happens to be on my blog today, too: the meditation from Daily Om:

Intertwined Fates
We Are All Connected

There are times when we may feel disconnected from the world. Our actions can seem like they are of no major consequence, and we may feel like we exist in our own vacuum. Yet, the truth is that our simplest thought or action - the decisions we make each day, and how we see and relate to the world - can be incredibly significant and have a profound impact on the lives of those around us, as well as the world at large. The earth and everything on it is bound by an invisible connection between people, animals, plants, the air, the water, and the soil. Insignificant actions on your part, whether positive or negative, can have an impact on people and the environment that seem entirely separate from your personal realm of existence. Staying conscious of the interconnection between all things can help you think of your choices and your life in terms of the broader effect you may be creating.

Think of buying a wooden stool. The wood was once part of a tree which is part of a forest. A person was paid to fell the tree, another to cut the wood, and yet another to build the stool. Their income may have had a positive effect on their families, just as the loss of the tree may have had a negative impact on the forest or the animals that made that tree their home. An encouraging word to a young child about their special talent can influence this person to develop their gift so that one day their inventions can change the lives of millions. A poem written “merely” to express oneself can make a stranger reading it online from thousands of miles away feel less alone because there is someone else out there who feels exactly the way they do.

Staying conscious of your connection to all things can help you think of your choices in terms of their impact. We are powerful enough that what we do and say can reverberate through the lives of people we may never meet. Understanding that you are intimately connected with all things and understanding your power to affect our world can be the first step on the road to living more consciously.