Guest Post: 12 Steps For Congressional Republicans

The following is another guest post by Richard Rosa:

Being that I am a long time practitioner of the 12 steps, although being far from

perfect in my practice of them, I believe that there could be some wisdom gained by conservatives if they were to adopt the principles. Therefore, I offer this: a twelve step guide for Congressional Republicans. I do not offer this in jest. I truly feel bad for anyone who doesn't have anything like this to use as a guide to becoming a better person. To be clear, this is neither endorsed or approved by any 12 step group. This is my personal take on how the 12 steps might be applied by Republicans in Congress in our current Constitutional crisis. 

1. We admitted we were powerless over our President - that our executive branch had become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that Congress could restore us to sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn the facts over to Congress.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to Congress and to ourselves the exact nature of our wrongs.

6. Were entirely ready to have Congress remove our chief executive.

7. Humbly asked Congress to remove him.

8. Made a list of all persons who had been harmed and became willing to make amends to them all.

9. Made direct amends wherever possible.

10. Continued to observe our oaths of office.

11. Sought through prayer, meditation and listening to constituents to improve our conscious understanding of the will of the people praying only for knowledge of their will and the power to carry it out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to our colleagues and to practice these principals in all our affairs. 

Again, this is not condoned, sanctioned, endorsed and has not even been reviewed by any member, except myself, of any 12 step group. This is my personal interpretation of the 12 steps as members of Congress could apply it to themselves.

Other Stuff

Lately it seems that all the news here has been medical. Surely there is more going on in my world, eh?

The club is beginning to gear up for the annual Fall Festival, held Friday and Saturday after Thanksgiving in the community center with the largest auditorium. All the art/craft clubs have a set of tables laid out with items their members have produced for sale. For me it means jewelry selection - a committee I'm on - is now meeting every Wednesday until  the festival rather than twice a month. I doubt it means lots of new submissions on my part, but I am working on a new project of cuffs of copper on leather. I’ve been learning several new ways of coloring the copper, both via heat and chemicals. Then there’s shaping and texturizing, and seeing if I really have all the stuff I need to cut the leather and rivet the two together.

A new mesquite tree went into the yard. The thorn in my finger seems to have finally gone away after sitting just above the surface enough to get moved inward with the most minor touch. At least I hope it’s gone. I thought so last week too but it spent another couple days disabusing me of that conclusion.

Meanwhile some plants are blooming. Not many, just the ones which do after a rain regardless of season, like orange bells or sage. Oranges are starting to show on their trees,  green still, but promising. Our snowbird neighbors have returned. Across the back fence the corn feeder is set out again, bringing in pigeons, doves, quail, rabbits, rats (I’m sure, just haven’t personally seen one), and many other waiting appetites. Rich commented he’s seen more wildlife while sitting on the patio with a cigarette than he’s seen in years. Missing (to me) species include the local hawks and owls, but they’re after the diners rather than the seeds. We glimpse lone coyotes and hear their evening group concerts.

My San Marcos Hibiscus has been blooming for weeks now. Since I’m out in the yard for something other than pooper-scooping these days, I have noticed the seedpods left after blossom drop. Many are split wide open. Also empty. Natch. But three were just opening and had seeds, so I plucked them and got immediately on line to research propagation. I was amazed at how hard it was to get the right plant, regardless of inputting all the right information. Even after that hurdle, there was a dearth of information on propagation. Some sites insist they don’t even grow here. Some claim no information is available. A couple allowed as how it was by seed. Period. After a frustrating half hour, I finally found that the seeds need to be scarified so water can get in, and need to be kept in very poor soil at 80-85 degrees. Spring was suggested for planting, and next to the house as a good location. Come to think of it, that’s where the “parent” is.

We were emailed a sonogram of the latest great-grandchild to be, this time on Steve’s side. An arrow points to the alleged proof that it’s a boy. I squinted this way and that and at no time could I even tell there was a fetus, much less tell what the arrow thought it was pointing at. Time will tell. Say, next March.

Meals are getting more interesting. Rich has taken up cooking. Not all of it, just adding to the menu options. Some sandwiches, soups and stews, burgers, almost everything that requires both more than a microwave, and someone very ambitious to clean up all the pots and pans collecting around the counters. Me? I do appreciate the food but I’m still a microwave fan, heat and toss the tray and leave a spoon or fork behind to clean. Besides, that stuff always has the nutrition info on the box as well as portion control, so I know just what and how much I’m eating, instead of guessing.

Rich also got way into local driving this week with 2 round trips to the hospital. On the way home I asked him if he’d had any problems. I was thinking in terms of finding his route OK, with many more turns than a pop-on-the-freeway route. Turns out he had some issues, but not with the route. His answer concerned all those other drivers who seemed determined to kill him. Yep, no Minnesota Nice drivers down here.

I told him a story Steve loves to relate about one of our first local ventures out and about after getting the house. We had just left South Mountain and were back in a neighborhood. At the intersection ahead of us a family was trying to cross the street. Managing a toddler and a stroller was a challenge. They had started into the intersection, seen us approach, and halted. Instead, we stopped and waved them through. Just before reaching the curb, the father ran back to get a close look at the lower front of our car. Our windows were down, and he called out to us, pointing to the car license, “I knew you weren’t from Arizona!”

Rich could appreciate that.

ancestry.com processed my spit a couple years back. Every once in a while they email me to make sure I know how marvelous they are  because they now offer much more detailed analysis of the results. At least I think this is why. They must have figured out by now that I’m not interested in buying any more kits despite receiving their emailed pitch and “sale” offers for over a year. This time I actually clicked the link to see what I might learn. There were a couple under-one-percenters in the analysis of who my ancestors had been in the original report.

I was right in thinking it might be interesting. I was wrong in thinking it might be “more” correct. After all, much of the family history is well documented back several centuries. Ancestry added Norway and Iceland in. Partly I can forgive that because we know there are ancestors from Sweden and Denmark, and it’s likely Norwegians intermingled. Migrations happen. Since Iceland was settled by people of the same stock Mom came from, though we likely don’t go back to those particular lines, I can still understand their inclusion.

I can also see how they added parts of the US that migrants settled after arriving from Europe. We have the records that prove that. Nothing new. BUT: there are losses. There were a couple of intriguing under-one-percenters that disappeared. I thought this was supposed to be more exact?

But the worst is when they deleted the French ancestor. His name was LeSeward, and came here and fought with Lafayette. We even have a photo him! So Ancestry? Boo, hiss. This one I don’t forgive.

This morning I saw something unusual. The bathroom window was open as I got up, and it’s my habit to look out for a view of my local world. The unusual thing wasn't seeing a hummingbird feeding among the orange bells. It was that it wasn't even two inches long. It’s the wrong season for young ones, and it was in full silhouette so I couldn’t try to identify it, but it was a great sight to wake up to.

Oh, you really didn’t think there’d be no health stuff, did you? I can’t immerse myself for a couple weeks, so no pool walking yet. No showers for a couple, and then only briefly and well-dried afterwards. However, baby wipes ain’t just for babies anymore. They are lovely for getting those spots that really should be washed instead, but this solution falls within the Doc’s parameters. At least nobody’s holding their nose and running away screaming when I approach. Polite folks all.

I got a few surprises in the recovery process. The bandaging placed over the leg incision included a fat gauze pad held in place by a clear plastic tape. I hadn’t even thought to explore what might be there until a day after getting home when my pants caught a corner of the slightly peeling contraption and yanked it a bit. Ouch. I tucked it under to stick to itself and not catch on clothing and forgot it for a day. When I checked again, more had peeled off. I decided to carefully finish the job. As usual when medical adhesive is on my skin for several days, the remaining tape brought bits of me with it. Bigger ouch. For two more days. It’s pretty healed over now though. That gauze pad, though, was nasty! Something definitely died under there! Took 4 baby wipes to feel like I’d crawled out of the dumpster and could return to civilization.

I’d like to stay there.

Steve’s recovery is still a bit shaky. He still sleeps in the lift chair but can’t settle on blankets or no blankets for any length of time. Walking is often wobbly, particularly at the start, and best done with assistance. Rich and I got him out to his primary doc this afternoon because he needed to show up in person to request more percocet. Not enough remained in his bottle to get him through another day, and he has to last longer than that before his gizmo gets working.  About that, though, I noticed that they finished his procedure with a long wire outside of the skin hooking the battery and electrodes together. We can’t understand that. As it is, it’s nothing but a snag hazard. Our understanding is the wire is subcutaneous. He called his cousin who’s had the procedure and suggested it to him for his pain. She doesn’t understand it either.

There will be questions.

And Steve's Surgery Went....

Right now i’m writing this in the waiting room while Steve gets his pain interrupter. No, no wi-fi here, but I’ll copy-paste it into the blog later. I tried reading “Home Fires” instead, bought after I discovered it was available. Loved PBS’s 2 seasons, jumped at the chance to get the book. Unfortunately, it’s hard to read with FAUX “News” in the background. I kept going from learning the history of the women in WWII to being unable to block the spew behind me. At least I have a chair with my back to it, but I needed something more than a book to block , say, the conspiracy theory that (“Crooked”) Hillary is running again, or denial of any possible reason for impeachment ‘cause it’s all false and none of the witnesses for Congress have proved that, to lies, lies, more lies…. AAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!  Pity on my blood pressure, guys? At least blogging allows me to block out other info while I’m concentrating on how to phrase or organize my next thoughts. It’s harder to block it while sorting the meaning out of somebody else’s writing.

But hey, interesting book. Nonfiction, though, so don’t expect the characters you’ve watched for two seasons to jump from the TV to the page.

 And status update, we arrived before 1 PM, and there’s only two hours of waiting left to go.  OK, they’re running late, so…. OK, now he’s another hour later….. Oh, now it’s two hours later…. Perhaps 3…. So, I just called Rich to let him know not to be shocked of we don’t get back until after 8. Maybe much later. The lady in front of him in the que had a bunch of splintered hand bones, compound fracture, and a much longer time than expected to put the puzzle back together to heal. I know that because the doctors come out into the waiting room to give whoever is waiting the details after surgery. Who needs HIPA rules when everybody can clearly hear what’s happened? I also know that a piece of wire extends out of her hand, holding one piece that didn’t exactly fit so it stays adjacent the hand bones. I guess there’s some expectation it’ll snuggle in or something and make itself a spot. In two weeks the patient will get her brace replaced with a cast, but everything’s got to settle down first. I’m not positive when the wire will go away. Maybe they don’t know either.

*    *    *    *

Continuing next morning:


I finally got called back to see him while he was coming out of the anesthesia. We were the last two non-staff people in the building. It was really rough this time. He was extremely nauseous, as much as you can be without actually having to use the rubber-sock-on-a-ring they let you hold so the staff working around you don’t have to stop working around you. His eyes were puffed closed from lying on his stomach for two hours, though half an hour later they were normal. He was also chilled and shivering badly, despite the addition of several heated “blankets,” as those well-used flannel sheets are misnamed.

He was also higher than a kite, but not in a good way. He kept repeating the same few phrases so many times that I finally decided the remnants of the anesthesia were screwing with his short term memory. He doesn't remember much besides the nausea when asked, and that’s a good thing. His back was in pain, since the procedure is to let the implants heal in their respective places before they turn on the current to find the proper level for disrupting the pain signals. That happens next week in the Doc’s office. So now he gets both the pain he had before plus the post-surgical pain. They couldn’t give him a pill for it, obviously, but I requested that they give him a shot of whatever they could that wouldn’t interfere with him coming up from the anesthesia. They not only did that but decided since he was still, after about 20 minutes, complaining of nausea, they could pop something to combat that into his IV portal well. Eventually it worked.

Steve being Steve, he kept apologizing for feeling so sick, each time adding that he’d never reacted to anesthesia that way. Meanwhile, I was both rubbing his leg to let him know I was there, and trying to memorize all the post-op at-home requirements. Only clear liquids tonight. Perhaps a soda cracker. No doing anything that would cause twisting in the back. (Hey, you try it!) No showers, no bending over, no heavy lifting, ice packs in an on/off pattern with 15 minutes rotations, no activating the thing in the box which is the remote control for pain levels yet, but bring it with to the doctor’s appointment next week - call their office. The sober one in the family got to sign that the instructions were heard and understood.

He was shivering so hard by this time that I questioned whether it would be better for me to go out to the car  and get the heater going. Yes, folks, while still needing AC in the day, nights cool down enough now that heat is welcomed, and especially for him right now. This wasn't my Mr. Furnace. Agreeing, they escorted me to the proper door and pointed where to pull the car up, reminding me I should leave enough room from the curb for the wheelchair they’d be rolling him out in. I got to carry all my stuff and all his, incidentally somewhat over my weight restrictions at the  moment, but who else was there?

Five minutes later there he was, unrecognizable from his earlier self. No goofiness, shivering, or nausea, he was dressed and holding a normal conversation with the woman who wheeled him out, and able to respond properly to how she guided him into the car without disturbing his back.

We arrived home somewhere after 8, and Rich escorted him in and got him settled while I headed off to the local store for another IcyHot patch so one could chill again as the other was in use. I also picked up a fast food supper on the way, long past eating time and no energy to both wait and prepare something. I didn’t want to eat it in front of Steve but he was sound asleep in his lift chair, the spot we agreed was best for keeping him from twisting during sleep or just the getting in and out if he were in bed.

    *    *    *

That was yesterday. Too tired to finish and post, so here it is now. He’s much better, improving throughout the day, able now to walk steadily without worry of falling, though pain levels are back where they were. He goes in Monday to get the pain interrupter turned on. He’s hoping to be able to pop on his scooter that evening and boogie down to his cards club, a first since nearly a year now.  Fingers crossed.

My New Watchman

Home from the hospital, hopefully my last heart procedure. All went well, so far as anybody can tell this early. It's up to the body now to do its thing. What it needs to do is recognize the Watchman as a foreign object and seal it over. When that is accomplished, there will no longer be a left atrial appendage which could pool blood during A-Fib, enabling it to clot, with the haunting possibility of it breaking loose and causing a stroke. This means I could wave bye-bye to blood thinners and INR testing and the possibility of major bruising/bleeding in case of trauma.

Wheeee!

I got to see one before the procedure, even handle it. Imagine a teeny parachute of very fine mesh covering sort of a metal-framed - oh - jellyfish. The wires dome out across the top, then interconnect on their way down to dangling half their length beyond the mesh. They're sharp. They're also a titanium-nickel blend, and I'm assured my nickel allergy won't be a problem since they've already implanted them in others (number ???) with the allergy. No mention of how long ago it's been to see if they react. Anyway, the full object is maybe a gram, about an inch around, with a stem sticking out the top. I figure that's so they can handle it during the procedure.

About three different people came in and commented/questioned about me "needing" the procedure. It was never presented to me that way. Rather, it was offered as a possibility, completely optional, but it might make my life simpler and safer. Nevertheless, I agreed with their way of framing the issue. Not the time to object to a word or two.

It got me thinking, though. Is "necessity" a way of getting Medicare to pay for the procedure? Now I'm really going to shut up and not argue the point. Of course, they don't pay a whole lot for this one. Turns out I had to go to a heart hospital in Phoenix, through morning rush hour among the other 3 million cars heading downtown. Rich drove, and picked me up the next day. The local hospital is only 2 miles away, but they have informed my cardiac surgeon that they no longer welcome that procedure being done there because they don't get enough money to cover their costs. So you think I might hint to Medicare that I hadn't considered it absolutely necessary? Shhhhh....

WARNING: you are about to enter the land of TMI. Skip ahead two paragraphs if advances in toileting are to be avoided. ........ OK, now, ready? Because the Watchman is inserted into the femoral artery for its trip to the heart, it is absolutely required for one to be absolutely horizontally still for four hours afterward for the incision to close safely.   (When the staff is really busy, it goes over five.) If you consider that although you arrive for surgery dehydrated, there is an IV pumping liquids into a vein while you're under, and the expected result happens. They've found a solution... sort of. I was introduced to a completely new doohickey. Imagine an oversized tampon within a very narrow sock sitting in a round-end, open top plastic holder with a tube coming out the end that - ahem - isn't connected to you - but is connected to a suction tube leading to a receptacle. It has a name, but I wasn't in a position to write it down for future reference. You understand. It's somebody's alternative to a catheter, and there's a version - noisier, don't ask how I know, just think about the privacy afforded by cloth walls-  for the guys too. I think your cheeks hold it in place. Everything drips down.

Now catheters have the advantage that they do all the work. With these things, you have to reach back into your potty training and figure out how to bypass all those commands of "Thou shalt not pee while lying in the bed! Ever!" It's tough. Even after you figure out your own method. I was bloating and cramping until I was told about the doohickey and encouraged to use it. Uhhhh.... Nothing. Try again.... Sigh. Luckily, the instruments they put down your throat for a sonagram to be sure of positioning during the procedure tend to irritate the throat. So.... cough! cough!.. Ahhhhhh! After I ran out of coughs, there were other ways, now that the taboo was broken. But boy, are those muscles sore! Did I mention where it is next to your tender parts, the sucking evaporates enough liquid to make you believe you're getting frostbite? Or that however well I thought I was doing, the minute I was allowed access to a real toilet, I sat and... and... and... until finally really empty. Gravity matters, y'all.

OK, it's safe again for the squeamish. Time to discuss the hospital food. The menu is varied with lots of choices I both like and can eat, mostly ala carte. Once in my room, I called down for a banana. I'd missed breakfast and lunch, and supper was only two hours away. They arrived with the fruit in about 20 minutes. Two hours later they brought supper. I asked for a cheeseburger, and could it go on rye toast instead of a bun, and please add tomato, onions, ketchup and mustard. I told them I didn't need a beverage because I only wanted water, which I had in the room. So they brought my patty on rye with tomato and onion. Instead of mustard and ketchup they added a pickle. And since I didn't need a drink, they sent a bottle of water.

Hmmm, what would breakfast bring?

I ordered another banana as a side. Got it. It did happen to be icebox cold and green. Who does that to green bananas? It's ripening at home. Also ordered a select-your-ingredients omelette: egg whites, bacon, tomato, pepper, onion, swiss cheese. First, their version of omelette is like mine, scrambled eggs with the other stuff thrown in. No complaint there. However .... (you knew there was going to be one, didn't you?) ... the eggs were yellow, the scrambled eggs lay in two rows along the plate, one including the bacon, the other including the veggies, topped with the swiss. They were fairly tasty, to be fair, though I should have ordered a packet of black pepper. I'm thinkingthe way they tolerate low Medicare payments and still keep running is by adjusting how much they pay the cooks.

I came home asking myself why I keep forgetting that hospital beds are uncomfortable, the bells never stop ringing,  blankets are a prison for the legs rather than a solution for the frigid temperatures, the staff is overworked and the pills never come at the right times. I did recall that the TV sucks, so I brought a book. I did peruse the schedule and found a couple hours worth watching. I also noticed 5 varieties of FAUX channels. I managed to avoid all of them.

The best news of all came after I got home. Steve got the call that due to a cancellation,  his back surgery is tomorrow, rather than the end of November!!!!! Yeee-Haaaaa!!!!

What I'm Avoiding on The TeeVee

I watch more television now than ever before. Part of that is time available after retirement and no longer working 10-15 hour days. Part of that is having a DVR so I can record multiple things simultaneously and shorten viewing time by dodging commercials. (Why should I spend a half hour watching 20 minutes of content?) And a tiny part of that is finding I can make jewelry with my hands with the TV going and give both the attention they deserve.

With the abundance of new programs in the fall lineup this year, we set a whole bunch of timers, wishing to not overlook any gems. I think three of those shows are still getting watched. I started to see patterns there, and realized that most of them have been longstanding.

I tried to remember a comedy I've really enjoyed, going back down the years. No, not that one, not that either, not... what was that? Eventually one came into focus. M*A*S*H. It's still out there in reruns, and I've picked up a few episodes. It still has something to say. I still find Frank cringe-worthy, but the rest of the characters were people, not parody. They dealt with real crises, had honor, worked together for common good. There were a couple that had something to say, and also got limited attention. Limited.

Whoever's writing comedies these days thinks that funny means stupid, craven, mean. Or maybe they think stupid, craven, and mean are funny. It's all even "funnier" when somebody takes a crotch shot. Heck, that doesn't even have to be written into a script. Watch 5 minutes of one of those "Funniest" home video shows and you'll no doubt see several. It's the most dependable event shown.

I don't find personal injuries funny. I don't think cruelty, from insults to injuries, is funny. I don't find scheming funny, nor all the machinations that seem to go into extending them into a half hour of commercials' support. I never appreciated all the abuse in Laurel and Hardy episodes that entertained all those folks wealthy enough to afford early versions of the television decades ago. I never enjoyed slapstick such as in the wayyyy overrated Three Stooges, and still find their fans incomprehensible. And does "Jackass" refer to its viewers?

"Reality" shows simply aren't. From the alleged spouse shopper contests, to machiavellian contests of elimination where betrayal wins out over ability or character, what is shown is mostly scripted, and only greed seems to be the motivation for anyone to participate. Since I'm not getting either paid in bucks or by seeing anything of interest, I'm not participating on the watching end either. Then again, I'm not sure even money would be enough incentive.

There are a few exceptions, reality shows I appreciate. "Wheel" and "Jep" are regulars here. We can all sit down and pit our own skills at answering questions or completing puzzles against the contestants, while occasionally yelling (OK, I exaggerate) at the contestants who keep playing so far past the point where they can win that they actually lose everything. Strategy counts, and in a good way, not for sabotage. AGT is a regular, though Steve is more involved in it than I. There is that occasional really special talent which makes some of the rest of the show worth dipping into.

While I relish a good "who done it" or other crime or medical dramas, that ends as soon as it detours too far away from reality. I can forgive a program where lab results are ready in hours rather than days, because I'm also in a hurry to solve the crime and catch the bad guys and gals. I do it understanding where fantasy comes in. It do it when there is a good cast of characters who make sense. I quit when there is absolutely no character growth, where nobody learns from their (long list of) mistakes. I hate shows like "24" where legal issues go by the wayside for the "bigger goal." And don't get me started on those conversations inside a moving vehicle where the driver spends more time looking at the passenger than watching the road! Really? Twenty seconds driving blind with nobody getting killed? Not even a bumper scrape? Really?

Soap operas get ignored, but a really good extended drama, stretching over years, something like "Downton Abbey', gets my full attention. I've seen the whole series twice. And the movie. It's a history lesson while "real" people work to survive and thrive through it. "Roots" had the same integrity. But series don't have to be realistic. Sci-fi, well done, gets the nod also. Babylon 5 was great, Dr. Who has its moments, lots of them. Quality matters. And not having to pay extra to watch is a determining factor. Sorry HBO, Netflix.

I'm both a news  junkie and very selective. You've read my criticisms of local weather reports, yet I work to find those daily. More and more via internet these days however. I'm not a fan of if-it-bleeds-it-leads. Or spending a week on a single story which has no effect on me or more than a half dozen people personally affected, but oooooohhhh, scary! There are so many important stories out there where a followup is meaningful and even necessary. So I settle on the "best" news station and select what I'm going to watch and which I'll speed through. No Fox. Never ever. In case you wondered, ya know. Give me real facts, not spin. Don't be uncritical when the powerful are shoveling shit. Give it context. Make journalism meaningful. Give it back integrity.

If a program spends an hour of air time covering 15 minutes of story, filling the rest with repeats of what they just said and previews of what's coming up, the channel changes. I can spend 5 minutes online to find out what I wanted to. I don't need to be told 5 times that person A worried about person B, or some upcoming fact just might become important. If you have so little story to tell, but an hour to kill, tell two stories instead. Or three. Anything else is telling me how stupid I am that I can't remember major details for three minutes - OK, four - during the commercial break.

I've gravitated towards PBS. Teach me something. Treat me like I have at least a rudimentary brain. Take me places I'm never going so I can experience them on at least some level: geography, environment, culture, wildlife. Show me how something was made or discovered. History channel got some attention until they invested their time in space aliens, UFOs and bigfoot "sightings". Treating fantasy like fact buried by some conspiracy gets nixed. HGTV got brief attention until granite countertops became "mandatory" and bickering over loving or listing it took over. Conflict without cause gets nixed. Househunters was fun for a while  until tropical paradise beachfront properties never mentioned their odds of hurricane survival.

Oh, and after I've fallen asleep in front of your program 5 times, the timer gets canceled as well. You may ask, 5 times? OK, sleep happens. It just might be my timing rather than a boring program. 5 seems like a valid try. I don't really need a lullabye.

Some Unsolicited Advice

Dear Lisa,

I checked my email again last evening and found the announcement, just after we last communicated, that  Peter had died. I imagine the time ahead for you is a combination of mourning and the busyness that comes from making all the necessary arrangements. Besides my deep sympathy, I wanted to offer a little unsolicited advice. Just remember what you paid for it before you decide what it’s worth to you.

Don’t let anybody else, or even your own expectations, tell you how to grieve.

This comes from both my own experiences, and a number of years in - and facilitating - a support group dealing with the ending of loving relationships, whatever their cause. I also have lost friends, and not so long ago, my parents. Each one of those occasionally still pops into my consciousness, some more than others.

With Peter’s long illness, you may have spent a long time saying your good-byes, or may still have found his actual death unexpected on some deep level. You may find it both a relief and a crushing loss.  You may find expectations - yours and/or others’ - for either your quick rebound or the full sackcloth and ashes treatment. I have no idea what your traditions are. But I can pretty much guarantee grief won’t be a static , straight line process. It may change from moment to moment, week to week, whack you in the heart after years have passed.

However  you grieve, it will be your own process, It will find you. Peter may even find you with his input on the matter. You will the the one knowing best what it’s like. Through it all, as a friend, I ask you to never forget to take care of yourself. However you feel at any moment, you are not the one who has died. All you need to do is reach out and you will find the people around you  to help support you for however long you need us to.

Heather

Trump Destroying Our "Protected" Desert

Daily KOS has the long version of this. The nutshell is this: Trump is so needful of impressing his base by building his wall, that he has ordered destruction of a swath of Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in order to make a show of progress for his base. While there was a modest existing fence there, it carefully wove around the organ pipes and saguaros along its path. The article -  https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2019/10/5/1890311/-Trump-is-destroying-an-irreplaceable-world-treasure-in-an-effort-to-speed-up-building-his-wall?detail=emaildkre  - shows videos of the bulldozing, compared with pictures of the old fence.

For those unaware, the area has been a UNESCO Heritage Site for having the most pristine examples of the Sonoran Desert ecological system. Arizona has make destruction of wild saguaros illegal. Assurances were made that those would be "relocated" during construction. Apparently, relocated is defined as "relocated to the garbage heap." Again, see the videos. Even the smallest of those being destroyed represents a hundred years of growth in this climate.

You'd think this "Red State" would sit up and take notice.

Unwelcomed

AKA How To Fail In (Keeping) Business By Not Really Trying

Saturday, 1st one in the month, protest day again. Brunch follows, social time, good food (hopefully), and a chance to include like-minded fellows who can't do the protesting any more but still like a  good meal and good company. Of course, it helps when our brunch-only folk know where and when to meet because we keep doing it without needing communication. You know where and when, so  just show up.

When I started, it was always at a place called Bobbie's Cafe. Basic fare, good prices, adjustable seating depending on the size of the group, great servers, about a mile from protest site. But then....

We outgrew the big booth in back and were switched to tables and chairs. When the chair legs dig into the carpet, the older and more infirm of us have difficulties, particularly getting the chair away from the table to leave. While we did our best to adjust to that, adapting seating arrangements and assisting others, the staff seemingly forgot to clean the coffeemaker. For months. Most of the group finds coffee indispensable. Good coffee, that is. We voted to relocate.

Our next choice was  JB's.  Closer to our protest site, with a different menu and a breakfast buffet, and costing only about a dollar more per meal, and none of what we objected to about Bobbie's, we settled in there. Until.... Well, no real use to pointing out their shortcomings, as they are now out of business. We're not sure why, since we moved on before that happened. But boy, did they have great cream cheese & fruit stuffed french toast! Just as well that's no longer a temptation.

So we moved a bit down the same block to Coco's. They've been around for decades, good reputation, perhaps another couple dollars more per meal. We settled in to our new brunch home, and they adjusted their 4-person tables by placing two together, enough room to spread around.

That ended yesterday. With two thirds of the restaurant empty, they crammed everybody into a single room. Or should I say, everybody else? Now, we're used to waiting in the lobby for several minutes until the full group arrives after taking down signs, giving farewell hugs to those not going on from the protest to the meal. It's never been a problem. Yesterday, however, smaller groups kept arriving and being seated at small tables. Never was there an attempt made to join tables as people left from those near another empty one. More customer were seated instantly while we waited. And still more.

One in our group asked could we be seated in one of the empty areas. Nope. Their servers only worked in the one area. (Why?) No apologies were made for having us wait. At the half hour point, we decided to go back to Bobbie's. Maybe their coffee had improved. On the way out, one of us expressed our displeasure to them at their treatment. Politely, of course. We were raised that way.

Their answer? Were they sorry? Uhh, you do realize this wouldn't make it to a posting if they had, right? No, their response was, in a scolding tone, informing us that they didn't take reservations.

What the ...? Were they claiming we were asking for a reservation? I was under the impression everything was first-come, first-served, and further, that we were first before the other dozen groups we saw seated after we arrived.

We went back to Bobbie's. The menu is still tasty and inexpensive, I'm told the coffee now is quite acceptable, and we figured out who needed which chair where easily. And even better, we were recognized and welcomed back.

Bobbie's it is.