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And because rumor has it* that an Executive Order has been drafted that will make religiously-motivated discrimination okay.


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  • I’m painting again. Mostly pink.
  • The new Teenage Fanclub album (thank you, M—-l).
  • The fluffycuddliness of Ella & Lucy.
  • We’re not yet at war with Iran.
  • Tomorrow I get to have dinner with my brother and sister-in-law.

Maybe it’s time to think about secession from the Union.  Washington, Oregon, California, and any other state or urbanized area or nonurbanized area that rejects the bullying coming out of the Oval Office.

Let those of us in liberal states spend our tax dollars on things that reflect our values and the states that support turning away refugees, building the stupid wall, government-sanctioned religion, not worrying about conflicts of interest, charter schools, pollution from coal mining, etc. won’t have to worry about their tax dollars going toward anything they don’t support.  Heck, they can even do away with taxes altogether, and privatize everything.

And anyone that lives in one of those states that wants public education can move to the states that still offer one, provided that individual is cool with diversity and equal opportunity and tolerance and taking care of the environment.  Just know that we’ll be doing extreme vetting to prevent bigots and bullies from entering our new nation.

Yesterday I avoided the news altogether and rolled out much of the tensions bound in my body from this past week and beyond in a hybrid yoga workshop with my favorite yoga teacher. That felt so good. And then played with paints, which also felt good.

This morning’s headline was slightly heartening. Go ACLU! I joined online just now.

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separated at birth?

(Image source: Wikipedia, with authorship attributed to a defunct URL and LadyofHats)

I’m ready for a detox.  What seemed laughable before the inauguration is now full-on sickening. Less than a week in office and the poison of the lies, delusions, self-aggrandizing, tantrums, stupid wall, etc. of our so-called leader is overwhelming.  (Oh, but if taxpayers are going to fund a major investigation into voter fraud, there’ll be a recount, right?)  Thank you journalists for keeping the record, but I gotta pay less attention for mental health reasons.  (and thank you nytimes mobile app for taking a brief break from Trumpasaurus Rex as the top attention-monger to honor Mary Tyler Moore yesterday.)

In other quality-of-life decisions, my next home computer is going to be a Mac.  I don’t care how much more expensive it is.  After the experience with my work computer over much of the past year, every since Windows 10 forced itself on there uninvited one day while I was out on my lunch break, and the subsequent updating behavior and what it has cost me (or rather my employer) in terms of work productivity, I will pay what it takes to avoid a Microsoft operating system at home.

(End of rant.)

That’s what I liked best as a kid (and as a young adult) whenever I was feeling sad or sick.  At least the ice cream part. My mom believed in eating ice cream out of a kitchen Dixie Cup.  (I preferred a full-sized bowl.)

And Breyer’s mint ice cream is not acrtually green.

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Just do it.

One of the good memories of my father: he liked to read through cookbooks from the library at the kitchen table.  I remember the sound of the crinkly dust jackets, and the turning pages.

I remembered this while looking for soup recipes among my own cookbooks at my own table over breakfast.

So seeing the Paris Opera Ballet and orchestra perform Swan Lake (three times!) was a dream come true.  (The mini-subscription I sprung for early last year was well worth the ability to get tickets to additional performances before they went on sale to the public.)  The swans were magical, and the entire production was magnificent.  I won’t nerd out about the dancing here, other than to mention that the male leads were particularly extraordinary on the first and third nights.

And the rest of the trip, other than the not sleeping and sad eating parts, was highly enjoyable, with early December having certain advantages.   It was lovely to visit L’Orangerie, the Musee Cluny, the Louvre, Sainte-Chapelle, and the Musee des Arts et Metiers with few tourists, virtually no lines for the museums, and room to breathe (except the air quality was very poor the first four days I was there, but as a result the transit was free).  I liked riding the bus more than the Metro.  I got to practice my rudimentary French.  (It is getting better.)  The Medici Fountain in the Luxembourg Gardens was my favorite place of beauty, other than the stage of the Opera Bastille and Monet’s water lilies in L’Orangerie.  The apartment was in a lovely neighborhood and had a nice view.


There are photos here that I will probably never get around to organizing.

The one disappointment was that I did manage not sit in a cafe and sketch.  Surprisingly, I also drank no wine (wanted to keep my wits about me being a solo traveler, until that very last night and then cider was what beckoned).

And of course I want to go back.

If the stars align, I’m going to do so for just a few days, before heading to …


Because, after all, I still have that last ticket in my mini-subscription to see La Sylphide at the Palais Garnier in July, the one I was planning to resell or just consider a sunk cost, since I really didn’t expect to return to Paris in 2017.  But Swan Lake at La Scala also happens in July, and the real water lilies in Monet’s garden begin blooming in July.  And it’s not going to get easier to travel and I’m not going to get any younger.