Here are the Skullies looking festive, anticipating Purim hamantaschen (and E’s mammoth challah).
Even the plants are getting feisty, thinking about their future windowsills.
As for me, I’m thinking Persian-ish theme for the meal. Time will tell. Happy erev and cheers!
As foretold, here is the mother of all challot, with cranberries, and some excellent fry bread, by E. And some very, um, “special” attempts at prune and apricot hamantaschen, by YT.
***
Lest you think it sounds idyllic here, now the white trash neighbors from hell have added an air rifle to their arsenal, and are outside with their little kids, shooting up the yard, with no regard for neighbors and dogs nearby. This is too close to home on several levels.
In the case of my son when he was little, the shooters were spoiled 12-year-olds whose parents were prominent Repubs, so they got a slap on the wrist, while my son had lengthy surgery and almost died, and has deafness and other issues to this day.
In this case, it’s so-called grownups with kids, taking no precautions, thinking it’s clever to shoot up the neighborhood. We’re hesitant to go out in our own yard anymore. All we can do is look forward to being out of here.
Today is baking day here at The Almanac. E will be making her famous challah, and some other mystery items TBA. I’ll be making hamantaschen in anticipation of Purim, which starts Saturday night, which also happens to be when daylight savings time begins. It must be auspicious.
I already posted a Purim-themed post, so I’ll just reiterate my hope that an Esther will rise up to sabotage the evil empire. Anyone know any appropriate Kabbalistic spells?
I’ll post the breaking baking news as it emerges, later today.
Lately I’m feeling like a caged wildcat, waiting to spring out of here to relative freedom. We’re just starting talks with our realtor to set up our first expedition in early summer. Wish us luck!
Right now I’m also worried about very real threats from this evil regime to our basic needs. I can no longer afford most healthcare, and E is worried about hers, going forward. Our already decreased combined income may take further hits under this admin. And of course our civil rights are even less assured now.
This insanity is going to cost our country so much in every sense and on every level, and take a long time to recover from. It’s still hard for me to comprehend this level of stupidity and corruption being acceptable to anyone. Dems could never get away with a fraction of this murder. I can’t even watch or read the news anymore, it’s so offensive, frightening, and surreal.
What scares me most is, average people around here, who represent typical uneducated blue-collar whites across middle America, see nothing amiss with the travesty in the WH. They believe every word of the propaganda aimed at them, and have no interest in facts. That was the scheme, and it worked.
Anyway, I’m not stating anything new or productive, so I now return you to your regularly-scheduled programming. Here are some more local springy lifeforms, again thanks to local wildflower, wildlife, and herping groups.
Bloodroot, White Trout Lily, Crocus, and Spring Beauty:
A young Red-shouldered Hawk, a Spotted Salamander, a Slimy Salamander, and a male Fairy Shrimp in a vernal pool:
TTYL.
The gale-force winds didn’t deter us from checking out the Fen after being cooped up with depressing politics all winter. The frog choir was almost deafening! There were peepers and other chorus frogs resounding across the wetlands. Masses of dry cattails rattled in the wind, while birds fluttered through them. The water was high and rushing over the beaver dams. Lots of skunk cabbage, pussy willows, and others were starting to show. We almost blew away.
We blew all the way home, where I made an Indian meal to warm us up—urad dal with carrots, a spicy vegetable curry, and basmati rice.
Here is a scene looking out past my aloe to a red-budding maple tree. That’s all I have today.
I noticed while driving today how devoid of spring growth this town seems, compared to more well-off areas. It’s almost like winter barrenness persists here longer, because of the transient nature of this blue collar military area. People don’t stay here long enough, or make enough, to landscape for the long haul. So all the telltale flowery signs of spring are absent.
I guess I can’t talk about transience, because we’re following in the footsteps of previous migrations of smarter folks who got the hell out of here, unfortunately leaving behind a ghost town. Most of the businesses downtown are abandoned, along with the houses. Our friend Ron, who owns an antique consignment shop, is increasingly surrounded by empty buildings. Mostly what’s left are payday/auto title loans, drive-through liquor stores and sleazy bars, ripoff convenience stores, and even shadier “businesses”. There’s a lot of crime.
The culture here has transitioned from the old midwestern model, of rural families remaining in one area for generations, all employed in big industries their whole lives, and retiring on a pension, to industries drying up and leaving people stranded in dire depression era-like conditions. It’s not a very attractive location for new entrepreneurial pursuits or technologies. Those who could, got out, while there was an influx of poorer Kentuckians. I call it “the South of the North”. Naturally, it’s prime trump territory.
Meanwhile, back here at The Almanac, we keep our eye on the goal, and plan our exit strategy. We know no place is ideal, especially in trumpworld, where all bets are off, but we are realistically, cautiously optimistic. We know the pros will outweigh the cons, and we’ll take on the challenges as they come. We have to hold onto hope that sanity and reason will eventually prevail in this world, or why try anymore.
On that hopeful note, here are local signs of life reemerging, courtesy of local wildflower and herping groups. We have: Virginia Bluebells, White Trout Lily, Harbinger-of-Spring, and Snow Trilliums.
And here we have two Spring Peepers, a Spotted Salamander, and a Smallmouth Salamander.
Life is weird. For years I assumed I’d be working my ass off up until the day I dropped dead of exhaustion, or of any number of diseases to choose from.
Then life happened, and I resigned myself to caregiving until whoever dropped dead first, probably me, or option 2, spending my final years under a proverbial overpass.
Then yet another weird twist of fate intervened, and here I am, go figure, in the midwest (!?), a boring retired person staring at a screen, trying to figure out what “kicking ass” even means.
I know what the expression typically conjures up–scaling Mt. Kickass, being St. Kickass, achieving the Kickass Award of the year, etc. But how do the majority of us poor average slobs attain Kickassdom?
Most average people are too busy working their ass off, or retiring from it if they can, to even think about kicking it, let alone affording it. Some of us feel fortunate to have even survived all the crap thus far, and have no energy left for kicking anything.
So I have a hard time imagining myself doing it, or being it, or what “it” even looks like. I’m just one of billions of ordinary folks who did nothing remarkable or exceptional until I died. (Maybe I’m jumping ahead of myself a little there?)
I’m also one of those types who torture themselves and others with endless ruminations on the point of life, and how I don’t measure up blahblahblah. It must be nice to be one of those mindless (practical?) souls who don’t waste precious time trying to work it all out.
Maybe “kicking ass” isn’t something lofty and unattainable, after all. Maybe it’s in the “little” things that are actually badass feats under the circumstances. As in, all the resourceful, inventive ways ordinary humans find to overcome impossible crap that life throws at them, and be resilient. And even have a sense of humor about it, after all the shit is shoveled.
I’ll let you know if I figure it all out. In the meantime, I’ll just keep posing as a writer of pithy anecdotes, and see if anything clever materializes.
At the summit on Friday, someone was talking about the necessary resilience and creativity of transpeople faced with seemingly insurmountable odds and challenges. One example of adaptation is to replace your phobic dysfunctional birth family with a new healthy “family” of your own choosing. This can be anything from just a couple of allies, to an extended support network.
This idea resonated, because essentially this is what we have had to do. E’s entire family and “friends” abandoned and rejected her, and refused to let her see her grandchildren, whom she loved. Gradually, even some of the contacts she made in the LGBT community turned out to be just as dysfunctional and intolerant, if not more so. It’s a sad, ironic reality typical of less educated areas.
Meanwhile, because of a close family member of mine who was transitioning, I set out to educate myself to be more supportive, and, long story short, met E and ended up becoming her ally and support person throughout her transition. Eventually my own nonconventional family met and welcomed her into the fold, and we look forward to being their nearby extension soon.
Along those lines, I was reading my latest Annie’s Heirloom Seed Catalog, which describes their own extended family. There are several generations living and working together, including the nearby grandparents who help out with the business and the grandkids, who also help out. Their staff is so much like family that they added one girl to their household. Many of the heirlooms are ones lovingly handed down among their own generations. It’s an authentic extended family business heritage.
It sounds archaic, but I think a trend back to this old-fashioned model could heal some of the disconnect or rifts that have become common in our western culture today. It’s basically what original native Americans enjoyed before we destroyed their way of life. Their communities were very inclusive and tolerant, even deferential toward individuals who were “different”, and they modeled the principle of “it takes a village”. All generations were together and helped each other to survive and thrive. Humans, being a social species, seem to need this diverse, supportive interaction to evolve. When we become isolated and too self-sufficient, we overload, and lose the perspective that comes from sharing burdens and ideas.
Well, enough pontificating. Closer to earth, my greens and herbs are thriving as the sunlight gets warmer and longer, and we’re getting closer to our anticipated goal of having a homestead of sorts, nearer to our true family and potential friends. We will welcome the blessed privacy and security from ignorant neighbors, but also access to people we love and respect, and the opportunity to serve them.
In a hostile world, more of us may find we need to create a new definition of “family” that is more intentional, mindful, and conducive to wellbeing, to replace the traditional model of intimidation and unquestioning conformity.
I leave you with shots of my extended green offshoots…
Here’s the kind of place we live in and neighbors we have to live with. Three so-called “adults” including the unstable mother, and her two little children, one still a baby, are out in our backyard playing with a handgun. I guess it’s “only” an air pistol, so that’s OK then. I know someone close to me who might disagree. One of the guys is popping it all over our yard, and then he hands it to the baby to play with?!? I suppose this is normal and legal in Ohio, and there’s nothing we can do about it without ugly repercussions. But WTF?! Shooting and encouraging little kids to fire guns in a populated neighborhood is disturbing and not cool. I am so-o ready to get out of here.
I skipped yesterday, because we were volunteering to set up and register guests at the Greater Dayton Transgender Mental Health Summit: Developing Skills and Confidence for Gender Diverse Populations, presented by Equitas Health. Many fine doctors, psychologists, lawyers, social workers, educators, students, and laypeople from the community attended sessions and panels. By volunteering, we got to participate in the sessions and the catered lunch, and meet lots of interesting people.
It was a very educational, worthwhile, long day. It was good to see so many professionals, parents, and others engaging in proactive service, education, and dialog, in the face of such an adversarial, ignorant political climate. We were fortunate to have taken care of business under the Obama administration, because most of those legal, medical, and civil protections are now ending. (Guess which three states still refuse to allow a gender marker change on your birth certificate? Hint: we live in one, and are moving to another.) I refrained from taking photos, for obvious reasons.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the Skullies were holding down the erev fort, and my dill seedlings were just poking through. If you look closely, you may be able to make them out. It’s been cold and snowy off and on, so we’re just laying low and biding our time, avoiding the neighbors from hell, until it’s time to start our moving process. We’re beyond ready to see the last of this state.
On our drive home yesterday, the blustery clouds were just parting to reveal blinding evening sun rays, making for a very dramatic sky show. These don’t even do it justice. I’m just thankful for no scary T-word.
