Resist 2020#8
In Memoriam: RBG--a guiding light for all of us.
Q. Cassetti 09.21.2020
New World Order: 200,000 people dead and no end in sight.
Resist 2020#7
New World Order: 200,000 dead and no end in sight.
Q. Cassetti 09.19.2020
Resistance v2: 2020
I made an image a week for the first year Donald Trump was president. One image a week—which gave me a little space to think about the significant image/idea and make an illustration from it. It was not easy to pick sometimes, but more often than not, the idea bubbled up with a degree of clarity that I really did not have to think too hard. Those images became a show at Exhibit A Gallery in Corning and were also the fodder for my “guerilla” resistance. I printed each card and placed them in literature racks around town and made them available for free for postcard writers and others interested in protesting the obscenity that this administration represented. Here are the images for your review. A few got published in national shows—and they were a good release for me.
However, as things began to wind up, I couldn’t focus on the one crystalline idea a week. It was all too much, too fast, too overlapping—-and I was (and still am) trying to drink from the firehose of information, media, stories, web of people, past and paperwork to really stay abreast of making an image. I had to let it settle and see if the inspiration would hit again. After a prompt from a graduate school friend and the coaxing of my family, I have climbed back on and started making images starting in mid August of this year. There are some themes (need themes to give me a hook and a push)—1. Saints and Sinners; 2. 10,000 Novel Coronavirus 19. The first is what it is, Saints and Sinners…not just those who are malicious, but those people who hearten and raise our spirits, the Saints. The second is to recognize every 10,000. people killed by the virus. I started at 180,000, 190,000 and have 200,000 in the offing. The coronavirus is apolitical and is busy being the best virus it can be—and I figured instead of hating it, I would embrace it, honor it and depict it not as a threat, but something that is here and needs to be regarded in awe and frankly, wonder at it’s ability to expand it’s reach. In giving it color and texture and adding the virus to everyday things—it might help me to be less fearful but still be cautious around it.
I will be posting on Facebook, on Instagram and here—and when a new one happens, I will post here just to give it a little space before it is cojoined with the group.
In Memoriam: Allen Carter Rohleder Taylor Giltinan
Allen Carter Rohleder Taylor Giltinan
July 30, 1930- September 7, 2020
My Aunt Carter liked to cultivate growth. From the tours of her garden where she would talk on about the qualities of each plant, citing their genus and species in latin, and broadly talking about design, aesthetic, botany and anything else that came from that lively brain she had. She paid attention to the details. In a similar way, she watched her friends and family in the same way---giving them space or lighting a fire, providing candid insight and observation as well. She fostered my cerebral uncle Xon, to live the life he wanted and not others wanted for him. She encouraged him to engage in the community—giving him pleasure in the interesting interactions he had. She truly cared and watched over Xon and his growth until his last breath—tending to his needs, giving him space, respecting his aging and his dying. She anticipated it—and in so doing, celebrated it. She gave air and water, (and sometimes a little fire,too) to move things and people ahead—making a difference.
Carter was an original. She was always herself. She was always present and paying attention. An example was that Keds sneakers in the early 1970s were not stylish or noteworthy shoes. However, on my Aunt Carter—they were the “it” shoe with her unpracticed style from the tips of her toes to the top of her head—with blue jeans and button down in between, and a floppy hat to protector from the rays as she gardened for work and play. Carter always looked good bringing the ordinary to extrordinary. She was one of those people who could show up at any event being perfectly perfect in every way from the way she carried herself to her total engagement with every person in the room. She was a brilliant light, one that everyone noted, noticed and remembered.
Carter had a way of always being in front of the trend…bad to the bone cool, with the confidence, bold laugh and ideas, patter, research and network to back it up. Carter was a wife, mom, aunt, gardener, democrat, actor, arts advocate, crafts advocate, and an embracer of life as it is lived NOW and not waiting for later, for future opportunities and spaces. Carter loved all people and used her time to give back to her community, her state, her valley—which she adopted with gusto when moving to Charleston, WV as a new bride, a widow and mother to Thomas A. Putting myself in those shoes, I would not have had the absolute bravery and beauty that Carter had after experiencing so much in those short early years. Yes, she was brave, fierce and beautiful too. I see flashes of that brilliance and bravery in her beautiful granddaughters—each their own person but fierce, strong and brilliant.
Carter had a pink living room when everyone had whitewashed their houses to be more “modern”. She had fires burning and a mismatched series of mugs and teapots that, when they were arranged on a tray with her presenting it to the group at hand could have be Meissen. She had sofas just where they needed to be, and funny little figures or animals in places you would never expect them to be. Her kitchen was where her energy was spun and spun and spun creating these dinner parties of more people than you could count, eating and drinking and just plain enjoying all being under the spell of Carter and the combinations she put together. She would burst into song or French, and others would join with my cousin Martha, the top note—rolling in the noise! There would be people washing dishes and clearing the table, and others sitting in comfy little niches getting to know new friends. Her house was open to family, friends and soon to be friends. Carter’s neighbors were our neighbors, and her friends, our friends. She spun people into communities and communities into support and love.
Carter noticed the details. My aunt was the one to declare that the endless Christmas presents were silly and that she would give each niece an ornament for their future trees. Every year a thoughtful present arrived of an ornament—sometimes folk art, sometimes an animal, always considered, and carefully selected, wrapped and tagged with her amazingly bold handwriting with a cute quip or note. I loved them all and would wrap them up and save them for that very day she predicted would happen. I celebrate my Christmas with her thoughtful presents every year and think of her and her insight.
Another gift was when Carter noted that I did not have “something blue” when I got married and loaned me a lovely blue (I think it was turquoise) brooch to pin on my collar. She planned this well in advance and was right on point as usual. It was so thoughtful and unexpected. A small detail again, that let me know she was there in my corner.
Be in Peace
In Remembrance
Martha Hughlett Giltinan
1957-2014
When my dear cousin, the nicknamed “Father Martha”, was ordained into the Episcopal priesthood, Aunt Carter celebrated by to festooning Martha’s ordination with piles of red amaryllis making that flower a personal symbol of their relationship and the grace of mothers and daughters. I will continue to illustrate with amaryllis celebrating both of their lives and their lives together.
I was an odd kid. Still am. But Carter saw me. I felt her fire, but also was soothed by her vision, her hope, her energy and her optimism that with a little energy, a little thought and planning, and putting one’s head down and sometimes running at things—you could move the needle.
Carter set the bar with her grace, determination, observation, energy and passions. She was exemplar in all. May the next step in her journey be filled with light, love and joy—and may her time here inspire us to be better people, better members of our community and to see the growth, light, joy and love in the small things daily.
Another clueless message from a birther robot.
Here she is, again…dead, lifeless and uncaring. Why do they torture us with this crap?
06.08.2020
“ A new version of America is dying. We hear its death rattle, loud and violent. But a new America is desperately trying to be born. We are its midwives. We have the responsibility to imagine America anew.”
Eddie Glaude, Jr.
Chair
Department of African American Studies
The James S. McDonnell Distinguished University Professor
of African American Studies
Princeton University
Lockdown Day 81: The Endless Day
I couldn’t get over how Helen Rosner’s tweet completely articulated the state we are in. We are floating, tumbling, randomly sailing through time—-with only a few artificial tethers—from birthdays (2 of which we have just celebrated) to our Wednesday dinners, to the forgotten weekend. I am measuring my days based on food purchased, prepared and served, the 12 cups of granola made weekly and consumed, Lucy dog’s water dish filled, and the “now where are we?” in some episode of some costume drama or “reality” dating show.“ It’s recipes and leftovers, daytime and night time, inside or on the porch. It’s pick-up or delivery day. It’s restless sleep and unanimated days. A steady beat of moving forward in time but standing still.
The news is horrendous—and though we are “off peak”, I really do not know how close to 100,000 preventable deaths in less than 3 months is anything less than a tragedy of unknowable scale. There is a twitter thing that people are doing daily, starting with the current date and rolling it backwards ie:
March 20: 34,022 active cases in US. 488 Deaths
April 20: 684,358 active cases in US 42,949 Deaths
May 20: 1,176,280 active cases in US 92,847 Deaths
Workers wearing personal protective equipment bury bodies in a trench on Hart Island, Thursday, April 9, 2020, in the Bronx. from NBC4/New York.
And the President has not acknowledged this loss and is rushing to open the country to rescue the economy at the risk of a severe upturn in death and illness. This pandemic has not slowed or stopped. This pandemic is vertical—and will continue unchecked regardless of weather, of time or exposure. We do not know this virus—what it can do, how it can morph, the after effects, the effects on children. We just see sickness and death—with crowds of people insisting on their “freedom” and not responsible to the collective community we all live in as humans regardless of money, age, religion, race, or gender.
Georgia’s Governor Kemp presented numbers around the infection/deaths in the state and manipulated the figures to present inaccurate data placing the May data before the April—again, somehow deciding to scam the populace into thinking all was right with the world. From the LA Times:
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“Nothing about the spread of the coronavirus or the nature of the disease suggests that it’s safe to get back to business as usual. And yet “reopen” is the word on almost every American’s lips, despite apocalyptic warnings from public health experts suggesting that, without an aggressive national public health strategy, the country could face its “darkest winter.”
In the absence of a coherent federal public health response, millions of Americans are trying to will the coronavirus away through the sheer force of their God-given exceptionalism.
Mass delusion seems a dubious strategy for ending the coronavirus crisis. And yet if you look at the data coming out of Georgia over the past month — which had one of the earliest and most aggressive efforts to reopen its economy — you might be convinced that there is little danger in a broad economic reopening.
According to state data models, which Gov. Brian Kemp used to justify Georgia’s aggressive reopening, the state’s infection curve has been rapidly heading in a direction that would be the envy of states like California, with its aggressive lockdown rules. The Wall Street Journal hailed the “Georgia Model” as evidence that aggressive lockdowns were needlessly harming the economy.”
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This deliberate scam is just one of the many being foisted on all of us to think that things are better….and they are not. Beaches are reopening. Las Vegas gambling is reopening. Its just crazy and is very discordant.
Growing up, we would watch the news on television seeing bodies in caskets unloaded from military planes—reinforcing that this distant war had a human toll. The shock of the banks of refrigerated trucks parked in parking lots, holding body bags, and the mass graves on Hart Island instills a wider sense of dystopian reality. The dead merit more respect than dumping them without family or funeral, without rites or recognition of the time they have had here—the families they were part of, the friends and life they had and valued. It is an endless stream of faceless people dying —and not all old and not all dying but many, many people and many lives scarred by this moment. This moment has no leadership, no kindness, no recognition, or connection of those things I hold dear as an American. This sears me to the quick…and there is no way to change things beyond a vote. There is something wrong.
Lockdown Day 27: Another warm and caring video from our First Lady
Why is it that anytime this woman speaks, she drives a sharp icicle into my soul? There isn’t an ounce of warmth, of caring, of compassion, of kindness. There isn’t an ounce of believability, of truth, of humanity. It is hard to believe that she is a mother, a wife, a daughter, a stepmother in her cold, limited way. Her stylists always seek the wrong tone from the Dick Tracy look she espoused when visiting the Queen of England, to the Empress of America coat she wore to meet her handler, Mr. Putin. Those choices along with the choices she has so badly made , the most brilliant one right now for me were the nasty jabs she made at Greta Thunberg, a young woman about the age of her son…who has taken the environment on as her mission and cause—continues to illuminate how uneducated, unsophisticated, simple, and hollow individual Melania is. Her “Be Best” Slogan has been promoted as “be the worst” evidenced by her “I don’t care “ jacket she wore to meet the immigrant children in cages on the border.
How could we forget the warm and magical Christmases she has delighted us with? Where’s Bo? The horrifying red, Handmaiden’s Tale Styling of 2018, and the Bloomingdales aspirational Christmas of 2019. Looks like they edited out the super sad (in the 2018) little moment with a pair of ballet dancers who in the dark portrayed sadness verus the joy that the holidays should portray.
A message at this time of huge upheaval and grief should uplift and support all Americans—but instead Melania continues to spread poison, unearned privilege, hauteur of the unknowing and honestly, the stupid. She had, prior to going to the White House, had a series of documents on the Melania “brand”.
The AP article “Documents show Melania Trump still involved in Branding” by Julie Bykowicz (02/08/2017)
I cannot even begin to think what that was about, and what the “Melania Trump” name represents associated with products. Cheap? Ill made? Worthless?
That sounds on point.
Melania’s Easter Gifties…. Remember Einstein Immigration Visa….
Lockdown Day 26: "Rebuke this thing. Rebuke this inert virus"
I don’t know about you, but I can always depend on “the evangelicals” to bring a fresh spin to otherwise horrifying experiences. Their Jesus is so different than my Jesus. Their sassy ability to cast out demons with a puff of air, or shaking fingers is dumbfounding. And, surprisingly, they are all very crotchety old, white guys who know best for all of us because they maintain and broadcast the rules and regulations to maintain a white patricarchy. They know the rules, they write the rules and anyone who is not a white male is someone who needs to be repressed, denounced and “taught” to behave. Could it be that this whole uproar is based on the screaming mimis who want to hold onto their dwindling majority as “everyone else” seems to be taking over the world?
You can imagine how Pat Robertson’s recent video sent a frisson of fear and delight down my spine. He wants us to stop cowering in our cars and go to our Churches. I guess that is why Trump wanted Easter to be the “back to normal” from COVID-19. He is declaring it “done” by Easter. Poor Pat, he is in the age group of those who are most susceptible.
This jewel from the televangelist Kenneth Copeland.
”I blow the wind of God on you. You are destroyed forever, and you’ll never be back.
Thank you, God. Let it happen. Cause it to happen.”
—Kenneth Copeland
Isn’t Pastor Copeland delightful? His wizened face contorting and shouting and dang, he is gonna lick that COVID by Easter so we can wear our outfits and have breakfast with the family at Cracker Barrel. What fun it will be to see Memaw and Paps while enjoying the all-you-can-eat waffles and dessert stations. Truly, how could anyone watch this clown shout with this nutty back-up band and begin to think that he walks with God, living the golden rule “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”?
While there seems to be more rings added to this circus, there are beds in tents in Central Park and St. John the Divine is also having tents and beds set up inside the Cathedral and crypt. The Javitts Center is filling up, and there are remote operations on Long Island and Queens to accomodate the overflow of sick people. A bus of healthcare professionals are leaving Ithaca tomorrow to go assist.
In New York State alone, as of today we have had 138,457 cases of Corona virus confirmed (+6627 today), 5,489 people died (+731 today), with a 4% fatality rate, and 14,236 recovered. The numbers are not climbing (across the board) today which is so reassuring that the stress we are under—and the give ups are worth it to know at least it is not on a wild tear continually climbing. Fingers crossed that this might be the beginning of good change. My doctor (when we had a telemedicine visit) spoke to his symptoms and his experience—and mentioned that he has seen glimmers of it even prior to Christmas. Rob said the same—recalling a really sharp, hard cough he had in December. So Corovid-19 has been sneaking around even before the new year? How much is the CCD and President holding back? More than what we think…I know. Gov. Cuomo continues to pursue this. His spirit and dogged quest to help and support is the only true leadership we see in our state.
The rest of the spin and con continues from the daily rally with the delusional president and his men telling lies and self praising. The Acting Head of the Navy resigned after his awful behavior yesterday. And so much more around power to the powerful, money to the rich and the rest of us afraid without friendship, consolation and leadership. More, I am sure…later.
Your Daily Injustice: 04.06.2020
The Sailors onboard are my top priority, and I promise to do everything I can do to take care of them."
Captain Brett Crozier
Another heartbreak. Another rent in the cloth of America. Another malicious either mis-step or another intentional heartbreak or malfeasance. It is all wrong. So wrong. And now, Crozier has been diagnosed with COVID-19. He paid with his job, and his health. He stands tall doing the right thing for his ship, for his sailors and to be heard—and not silenced.
Read about Crozier, the ousted Navy Captain who was applauded and loved by his sailors—who did the right thing to stand up to the current administration for the betterment of his ship here and here:
Captain Crozier is a Hero, NYT Opinion by Tweed Roosevelt
This is how his crew responded.
The heinous response from Thomas B. Modley. Not exactly Public Relations Perfection
The Soundcloud recording of Acting SECNAV Modley. Not professional. Not respectful. He does not deserve the job he hs. He is an awful man.
Lockdown Day 25: Doomsday domesticity
Lucy Littlestar, skittish airedale rescue, has discovered she likes green beans. And to top it all off, she loves raw carrots as much. It’s pretty cute, and for an a girl who came to us weighing 92 lbs. and is now slimming down to 67 lbs, she’s got a little more bounce in her step—so new edible rewards seem to align nicely with her changes. I could give her carrots all day as they are better food, are fiber and are not the mountains of cheap, wheat flour food she grew up on. So, hello, CSA and the juicy carrots—Lucy is interested in those roots as are we.
I have been grating carrots and making a nice salad with a dijon/lemon vinaigrette (add a bit of chopped cilantro—or sauteing them in a bit of olive oil, garlic and some “bloomed” coriander/cumin/garam masala. All good. I bought 2 8 lb bags of carrots and we are depleting the reserve. I also am fermenting and am on my 3rd round of garlic/dill pickled carrots. I am reusing the brine when the carrots are ready to put new carrots in. That live bacteria goes CRAZY—bubbling and popping within minutes of the new sweet veg. hitting that solution. Its good amusement to see how we can keep this going. I also did a big batch of pickled beets . I boiled the beets and peeled them prior to the pickllng which made the brine become almost syrupy—lending more dimension to these vegetables. Next time I do beets it will be a smaller batch, and I may just peel and cut the beet vs. the boiling and see if they become a bit more sour and picklie.
Yesterday at noon, I started a loaf of the NYTimes No Knead Bread. There was a time I was really pushing on Sourdough starter and bread—and I had an audience of hungry teenagers to eat even the mistakes. Since then, I have been a non-baker, but with the need to be home, hungry mouths and limited bread in the stores (seriously, I ordered 2 loaves from Wegmans and got a half of a tiny loaf…which was consumed in seconds upon arriving here)—has prompted me to rethink bread. My friend, Teresa from the Honeybee Embassy made this Jim Lahey recipe and sent me pix. The pix clinched the deal…I was going to try this. So, 3 ingredients stirred together, placed in a bowl and put in a warm-ish place (I know where those are in my cool kitchen). A day later, I had a loose dough that had bubbles. I am now in the last rise and we will see if my hopes are realized. Good thing though, there are eaters who would love to eat some hot bread regardless. And in the world of Pandemic land, we are not dependent on other bakers and fermenters—we can do it ourselves.
Kitty is busy making masks in her spare time. She made them for friends and family but also making for the local restaurants and retailers that are open for sale. I am proud that she is engaging in helping on a grassroots level. Feels right to give back—and/or pay it forward.
I am tired. Not sleeping well at all. Last night I credited the full moon with this jumpiness but candidly, I think its okay to just acknowledge the horror of the times and try to focus on small projects like the bread and carrots on a local level. I cannot change Washington, but I can evince change here at the local level.
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This article in The Atlantic. The Revolution is Under Way Already by Rebecca L. Sprang (April 5, 2020) speaks to conversations we have been having under this roof. Give it a read, your thoughts?
Oh my God. I had to look. I knew that this week was going to be one for the record books. And the President and his lick-spittle cabinet is publicly shutting down and trying to silence Dr. Fauci, the only voice of reason representing science and medicine with 45 prescribing untested medicine and protols that he has absolutely no place doing. This is just plain head-spinning. At least we know that there is no bottom to this evil.
Lockdown Day 24: A. numbing samenesss
The Queen spoke today on the BBC. She gives us hope (as does the brusque manner of our Andrew Cuomo). Elizabeth knows horror and pain. She knows separation and commitment. She knows how to express compassion and rally some esprit des corps. “Better days will return.” I hope she is right. True leadership reassures and we have few examples during this horrendous time as an american.
I am not sleeping well. And when I do sleep, I am dreaming horrifying, almost hallucinogenic images of dystopic landscapes, of existence underground, and of a faceless Donald Trump upon which a spectrum of faces emerge and segue one into the next. I watch the numbers, the reports but try to steer clear of the full firehose of news—but little is good beyond the animal pictures and those of what people are cooking. The fear of the unknown, the fear of having no control is monumental.
The racists are out in droves. Secretary of State Pompeo refused to sign a document at the G7 insisting that this virus was called the Wutan Virus or the President trying to jam “Chinese Virus” down our throats as common parlance. Thank God the press did not run with that one—and gave it no oxygen to help it grow, puff and spread. People are being beaten up on the street over their race—and “funny stuff” like the photo to the left is somehow right and appropriate. I know that that evil demon, Stephen Miller, the architect of so many of the truly nasty policies this administration has tried to put in place—is delighted in his success and focusing on more filth to spread. Help me to understand how any of this is funny, cute or amusing. Is this all about “owning the libs”?
We have religious crazies declaring victory over the “destroyer” Covid-19. Oh man, so Satan=Covid-19. And these are the people who are communicating with the believers. This is for the folks that say science has no relevance—and that one just needs a “Strong Stand of Faith” to overcome this virus. I am horrified by this stupidity and how it is going to effect the red states, and the rural communities. These mega churches speak to a community of people who have not really been heard politically except when it came to electing Trump.
Then we have Little Miss Face Lift, White House Evangelical, Paula White raising money for her own “spiritual hospital” (her own church) during this time. Its so messed up. It’s so about lies and con— Along with Liberty University insisting that their students all come back from spring break—essentially turning their campus into an enormous hot spot and focus of this virus without a significant medical infrastructure to support that immediate break out. I wish I could laugh as these characters are so exaggerated and distorted. Their words are a mashup of code, of false promises and untruths, interwoven with Bible versus and odd prayers. Their focus is financial and truly the successful are those who con for money—the Rich are the enlightened and blessed. It is truly medieval —those who are not blessed are just not working hard enough or deserving of the blessing. And these are just two cons for today. The world is writhing in this nastiness.
I need to get focus. I need to pull in positive. I need to find my center and my sense of humor.
Lockdown Day 19: What?
Here we are. It’s curious that today it feels like I am back “in control”. I guess what that means is that I have started putting a timetable on my day, coffee, work, lunch prep and work and then knock off. Dinner prep and family, then heads down. I actually was able to be a bit more myself last night—and feel that though we are in a very scary time, the little flutter of hope is brushing me with her wings.
I also am finding myself noticing new things, new opportunities, new changes. I guess it’s not me to be so put off by self proclaimed influencers, movie stars, and “dopes” sheltering in place and essentially continuing to put this national emergency “on brand” versus giving back, contributing and doing more than the vacuous bullshit that has gotten them this fame and fortune just like the grifter con in the White House. The Times did a great article really playing out the idea that this type of empty celebrity culture is really not playing these days—and for that, I am forever grateful. Let’s celebrate true talent. Let’s celebrate the givers and not the takers. Let’s celebrate the visionaries and creators. Not the empty suits and hairdos.
The New York Times has an article today of how to sew a facemask. WHAT!! If you had told me on St. Patricks Day that we would be seeing this in less than two weeks, I would have told you—you were crazy.
Then, it turns out there is the FyreFest 2020 out there. These “super cool” people have a house that you, once you are approved, can join a community of people (musicians, artists, thinkers etc) essentially on their private “cruise ship” with a medical professional etc. It is totally pukalicious. What do you think? I am now hot on all the quickly patched together opportunities that are out there. Harbor.im
And the lying, grifting and deflection continues out of Washington. If Trump can turn this tragedy and somehow hogtie Hillary and Obama into it, he will continue to try. The lies, the supercilious smirkers (yes, Pompeo, you) the bootlickers (Mister VP), the heinous family complete with Kitty Meow Meow, Ms. Perfect Revelations Barbie—trying to skate on top of all of this—trying to be relevant and build her god damned brand. It is, disgusting. I mean, the Kimberly Guilfoyle 50th Birthday party (funded by lobbyists) at Mar-a Lago was a brilliant way to expose a broad group of the Republican elite. This too, will develop in time. But the brazen grift of actually asking folks to fund her party, going to local liquor distributors for cases of wine/champagne to just outright cash gifts…because she is the girlfriend of the son of 45— another lying cheater who manipulates the system to get his “bit” from money to leaning on governments to give him the opportunity to kill rare animals. His white nationalism is ignorant and speaks to “the base” which I guess works for his family.
Where is Melania? and Barron? Where is Tiffany?
Fauci continues to be a beacon of truth as does our remarkable Governor, Andrew Cuomo.
Lockdown Day 18: Anticipation
I am an anticipator. I anticipate…in a pretty severe way—everything. I plan things well in advance of deploying it—with, for example—Thanksgiving dinner being made from the middle of October to the actual day of Thanksgiving. I will buy an early turkey just to make the basis (stock) of gravy, of stuffing etc. and make it with the bones of the early bird. From that stock, I will make the gravy early—packaging and freezing in advance. I will chop all the vegetables in advance, assembling all the sides in advance and ready for butter and baking off on the holiday. I plan and plan so that on Thanksgiving, its a snap between the thawing and the baking off. Easy. I plan Christmas and birthdays the same way. I hate running late on a project or just starting minutes before it’s done. Travel is planned well in advance of the day to go—with being early, being ready for the hurdles in the airport from shoes and computers on the belt to what gets packed and what gets carried. I insist on always being beyond early at the airport because you just dont know. And that, my friends is true…you just don’t know.
This confinement and the world that is shifting off it’s axis is something that I didn’t anticipate—and cannot focus and plan because it is the unknown. Who knows where we will end up…the only thing we can do is control what is in front of us. We can try to roll with it—and just with emotional and spiritual “muscle memory” be as ready as we can be. We can also plan, instead of anticipate or even dream a little of what could happen, where the opportunities might be and how we may be living in an on and off confinement world in the near future. What does that look like? How can we turn it into an opportunity?
Lockdown Day 17: Fermenting
“Great fury, like great whisky, requires long fermentation.”
—Truman Capote
I have always admired many of my skilled friends who cook, bake, distill, ferment, create with wonderful mis en places—in their kitchen studios. I have many friends that talk about microbes as if they are family members, what they like, how they behave, how to care and feed them from sourdough starters, to Kombucha mothers, to the stinky and bubbly sauerkraut. Candidly, the idea of live microbes eating all the sugar in their base, bubbling away kind of horrified me in the beginning as did the tricky containers with these funny pressure things on the top. Nah, not for me. But I was even more horrified by the aspect of a pressure cooker and the potential for it being a bomb in your household. Albeit—a happy bomb when the fear washes away.
So, I research everything. It really is in my digital dna to google reviews, to read stuff from experts and to make a decision after reading a ton, talking it up with friends and then diving in. But with fermenting, I bought myself simple glass fermenting container with a silicone top and a simple regulator on the top. I figured if I had that, I could get going until I read on one of these perfect mom recipe websites about these things called “pickle pipes”. Pickle Pipes are these fermentation tops that fit any wide mouth mason jar (regardless of the volume) and with that, you are done….So they allow you to ferment in tiny batches to see what you like and what you don’t. So, I splurged and bought a set of 4 and away we go!. The batch of garlic/dill carrots were sensational. I have a jar of dilly beans and one of garlic dill pickles. I used the brine from the carrots and put onions in it…not to let it go to waste and dang, the sizzle and bubbling that happened literally the minute I put the onions in the jar was really something quite remarkable. I did. haul out the bigger fermenting jar and made a big batch of sauerkraut from a head of red cabbage which is tasty, sour and “soft” (where I am going with that is it doesn’t bite you the way vinegar does with regular pickles). And all of this in 17 days. This looks like a lovely thing to do while we are Coronavirus encamped—and it already is adding color to our plates, pucker to our salads, and probiotics in our mix during this time of managing your health and happiness.
So fermenting it is. Long fermentation.
My fury at the state of the world has become more focused. I don’t know what happened but the whole flight and fight thing died down yesterday and has bloomed into pure rage. I guess this change happened because the Coronavirus freight train hit as hard (harder) than projected and consistent with his behavior, Trump continues to hold television rallies demanding fealty and love despite the sheer tragedy that is unspooling right in front of our eyes. At least now, it is in front of us with 45 refrigerator trucks supporting the current overflowing morgues—as we escalate towards “peak”. The horror stories and the stories of heros will be told but for now—we watch and wait…as there is nothing we really can do except to keep our distance, to keep things clean (hands, boxes etc.) and for me to stay vigilant with those I am homebound with and those who need or like the extra “hi”. I have gone from guzzling the news from all sources (Twitter, Washington Post, New York Times, Wall Street Journal, YouTube, Podcasts, books by pundits on Audible) to letting it rest a bit. I am now just watching the data that is piling up on this site:
COVID-19 In US and Canada
And albeit for the saddest purposes, there are some really outstanding sites that explain aspects of this virus and it’s spread through beautiful infographics:
Washington Post : How to slow epidemics
New York Times: How the Virus Got Out
And though it’s not an infographic, The Imperial Report from the Imperial College, London. is a significant piece of writing that though horrifying, has substance and weight.
So, I haven’t totally dropped the news hose…but am trying to keep it more focused and not as much the rage echo chamber. There truly is nothing we can do but ride this out, grieve the past, the present and the hopes that will change for the future and then start looking for the sparkle, positive change and those little motes like wild yeast, that can ferment and grow into something new and wonderful.
I think we can do it.
Clara's Official Website: www.welcometoclaraskitchen.com 94 year old cook, author and great grandmother, Clara, recounts her childhood during the Great Depre...
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Lockdown Day 13 : Panic is the Enemy.
I have been pretty much in quarantine for two weeks. Since then, we have hustled to get our kids home (thanks to extrordinary efforts on my kids and husband’s part). The minute the NBA cancelled I was running to lock all the doors and pull up the drawbridge. The next day with the closing of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the shuttering of Broadway, I knew we needed to move fast to begin the hunkering. My son was on the bus the next day. So, now we are all here. Everyone is working remotely from me (as always) to my museum professional hubby, to my daughter studying theater design at Yale to my son, photographer…though his freelance work essentially dried up as did his time selling tickets on Broadway. We are all here…in the silence with our headsets on trying to stay quiet and thoughtful. The news and the world rage around us…but here we are with the cookpots filled with some bean thing and tubs of things for folks to grab and eat. However, I cannot quiet down.
Susan, my therapist (now teletherapist) cited the need to try to bring balance between the Rational minda and the emotional mind. Here is a bit on that:
Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT), presents three basic states of mind: reasonable mind, emotion mind, and wise mind. When operating from reasonable mind, we view the world rationally and pay attention to observable facts and phenomenon. You may notice that you are in reasonable mind if you feel somewhat detached from the situation and find yourself noticing the facts and planning future behavior based solely on observable knowledge.
When you are in emotion mind, you may experience an intense subjective state wherein logical thinking becomes difficult or cloudy. You may notice the facts, but find yourself distorting them or amplifying them based on your current emotional state. In emotion mind, it is difficult to remain objective and you may engage in behaviors that are solely driven by your subjective perceptions and internal emotional state.
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So to put that on a spectrum now, I am very much in the planning and reacting mode—ordering food at the store a week out. I am reaching out to my farmers and friends and offering to help. Cooking and advanced thinking for the home team. But, worrying about all that I cannot anticipate. Worrying about the world. Worrying about the families and people stuck in NYC. Worried about my son’s roommates. Worrying about the place we find ourselves when the Governor NYS cannot get help. Worried that we are on a breakaway horse with no idea where we will end up (if we do not end up dead) . Worried about the pain and suffering that every person will be subjected to because of tremendous greed, narcissism and fear has brought us to the brink with this administration. It is the end of dreams. How can we hope?
I wish I could get my head around this for a pretty picture or some tidbit to brighten my soul—but I am not in the least bit humored or lyrical. We will talk tomorrow.
Lockdown
It is said that the character in Chinese for chaos is the same as for opportunity. As I went out to confirm that today—to try to spin down my anxiety, and lay on the love—I discover that Wikipedia has nice long entry debunking the fine points, pointing up the political use of this symbol. At the end of the article there is a cogent note from the 10th Edition of Xinhua Zidian, the best-selling Chinese dictionary considered authoritative in China, the character 机/機 (jī) has multiple meanings[11]:
• Meaning 1. "a point where things happen, change", examples: 危机 (wēijī), [...]
Derivative Meaning 1.1. "an event that has a confidential nature", examples: [...]
Derivative Meaning 1.2. "chance (opportunity), good timing", examples: [...]
This is where we are…a point where things happen/change and the opportunity for us to embrace that change by looking for the opportunities, personally, professionally, spiritually. We are at a spot that all the work, the saving, the scrimping and planning—has manifested itself in a stall or a break. We are at a spot where the life we had at Christmas is not the life we will ever have again. For good or for bad, it is just not going to be the same. I know, I know—to manifest change in business and in our lives formerly—Rob and I would often talk about the only way to start a train is to jerk it into action…and we learned methods and thinking to jerk those problems/projects into active things to solve. But this. This is far more that that.
The world as we know it. The structures we know. Those “solid” places we felt sure would never fail us…and they have. Our collective physical health is challenged. Death and dying for all is on the table. Our financial health—our years of saving and collecting has, in less than 3 days been decimated. Jobs, professions, and ways of staying afloat have been curtailed. And the little people are spinning in a chaotic oblivion with no end to the bottom, no deadline on when it will be over and our lives reduced to being at home, online and confined to flatten the curve to permit our hospitals to not overload.
It’s us versus them time. Us being “the people” and them being the government. We have the President spewing the continual lies he has been spinning for almost 4 years now on a vertical line…with more idiotic pronouncements from medication to telling the governors that there is no federal help for masks and gowns for hospital workers. We have Republicans going on long weekend and denying this crisis was not weeks away but NOW. We have state messaging television telling lies to people—and those people so unquestioningly believing all the lies and untruths that we are in a place that may be beyond the point of return. That same media, President and Congress will be forced to go through this as well—and will never, in the narcissistic cult that they embrace, acknowledge how the system failed due to stupidity, carelessness, cavalier firing of qualified individuals, selfish self dealing. As they said on one article I read, all the red lights were blinking that this was going to happen and it was ignored. Just like 9/11. Only problem here being, 9/11 was not the entire country and most of the goddamned world.
We have a government working against us—not putting military hospitals in place, ignoring the pleas of the governors, telling lies and continually looking for a way to get more personally, more grift, more money, more for their friends and nothing for the better good of all. We have a government where the Secretary of State lies on the podium and praises the brilliance of POTUS in a pompous, prideful way—not supporting or caring for his State Department while laughing along about POTUS calling it the “Deep State Department” when we should be addressing the crisis at hand. It’s all jokes and revelry. It’s trashy sheet cake at Mar-a- Lago with botoxed blondes and rich old men—living the life they feel entitled to—in a manner of Marie Antoinette. It’s about branding and golf games and toxic Princess Ivanka playing big girl in government. It’s culture of inflated people, reality tv people who are referred to as “actors”, and influencers who shill for a job—begging for free stuff so get “clicks”. It’s old chestnuts like the convicted, televangelist, Jim Bakker revisiting his true skill of selling…to take advantage of this sad moment to sell collodial silver as a proven remedy against Novel Coronavirus. It’s about bailing out the casinos and cruise ships, the hotels and amusement parks without helping the people who pay their salaries and who have (as a minority) elected them to these positions of power. It’s about soul-less cheating, fraud and lies. It’s about getting away with things and never owning “it”. It’s about never saying you are responsible, or you are sorry. It’s never about greatness as a people but personal greatness as a man…as a symbol of what some people in the country see as a reflection of what they believe is good, right, righteous and God-approved. It is a sick place for us to be.
What matters is whether he is a danger to the country, because he will do it again. And none of us can have confidence, based on his record, that he will not do it again, because he is telling us every day that he will. – Adam Schiff
If we do not radically take the bull by the horns on this one, we are not the people I believed us to be. We must act without looking for permission, to save our souls, our skins and our place as Americans. We must stop talking about the way things have always been. That was then, this is now. Old protocols, old “manners” and methodologies have failed us. The White Men in charge have brought this house down out of greed in not acknowedging that we have a defective, sick man with too much power running the country. That vote to impeach was one stroke, with the other to remove so beautifully argued and voted down out of spiteful self-aggrandizement (several Senators were awarded money post vote), self interest and greed.
I implore you, give America a fair trial. She's worth it. – Adam Schiff
We are waiting for leadership and it’s not coming in a big way. Each one of us must step forward and cooperate, plan and work together for our own survival. The leaders we have are too polite or too polluted to get us through this. We must start in our neighborhoods—and work our way up. The only way through this tragedy is to go through it. There is no around, above or below. Straight forward.
I am proud that many of us do understand that now is not the time for Me but for We. There are things we need to do for the betterment of all of us.—if that means sacrificing personal movement and freedom, for now—that is what we need to do. if it means helping others through gifts of money, of mental/emotional support we need to be there. I can rattle on and on about all of this as I have been managing this through trying to drink from the firehose of news, of twitter, of newspapers and websites. I have been , for the past 3 years living through Trump’s horrors since day one thinking and hoping that “this is the bottom”…and in the tradition of Alice falling down the hole—the hole just gets deeper— the bottomless pit of Trump’s evil, criminal administration so singularly represented by a diaper wearing old man with a toupee and ill painted bronzer who is certifiably demented.
We must step forward, own where we are and decisively act for change..
We must.
Just a thought.
I was thinking last night. You know that three o’clock in the morning think that you try to not get all wound up around the politics and sheer awfulness of the time— and try to quiet the grinding wheels that can spin up over anything. I have been doing some personal delving recently which has quieted some of the greater demons and given my a little space to come to some new conclusions.
One question surfaced last night, if you have triggers on one side of a spectrum, what is on the other side— spiggots? Triggers do not just happen, but are built up and something out there throws a switch to send all of the cyclical stuff I carry around into action—which then builds more and more anxiety and anger. If you can break the cycle and sense, “oops, sliding into this one” and change out the behavior, then you can begin to stop the cycle of getting to the end game of anxiety and emotion. This is a place need to stop going to—and need to learn changes to put in place to live a happier, more balanced and a more mindful life.
I believe that there is always a counterpoint. So, if you have triggers on one side of the equation, what is on the other side—let’s call them spiggots for now. If you are super mindful, can you put yourself in a place to just let it all go—to live in the moment without triggers and anxiety? How is it that one can identify that you are going on that path and instead of stopping that flow (as in the case of triggers) you increase the flow to soak in the benefits, anxiety free, demon free, and independent of anything but the moment. No past, no future. Now.
Is there such a thing?
Welcome shy girl.
Lucy Littlestar
Slip, sliding on the ice today. Rumor has it that we are on track for getting 5-7 inches tonight. I have coffee and milk and enough kibble to not have to go anywhere. Oh, that’s right…you don’t know about Lucy.
Lucy (working middlename is Littlestar) is my new dog. You heard me grieve over my golden boy, Mitch, and how crushed I was to lose him just as we had all gotten comfortable with each other. I didn’t want time to drag between losing my heart and getting another dog to take the space. So, I was looking on Puppyfinder.com and searching for airdales in the area. I noticed that there was a way to dial in age in the search bar—and up popped Lucy. She was/is a 4 year old Airedale who was part of the family and they had to get rid of her as her “person” couldn’t be around her any more. Turns out, there is much more there to unpack. I started to text with the owner and after a bunch of back and forths, she agreed to let me “rehome” the dog. Getting her was another issue…as the owner lives in North Carolina. But with our going to a wedding in Maryland, we agreed to meet closer to her in Richmond, Virginia. This was at the end of October 2019.
The hand-off was bizarre and after relating details to my new doggie support team, they have reinforced how wrong it all was. We met in a dog park because Lucy is a bit “shy” around cars etc. Dog Parks, according to my vet, are designed to keep vets in business. One never knows what is going to go down between dogs, their owner, off leash—put that in tumble dry and see where it takes you. Sleepless—-this will keep the wheels spinning. Lucy was not the tiny thing we saw in the pictures, but 90 lbs of shaking fear. She was hoisted into our car, shaking and burrowing her head into the seat back until we stopped to spend the night. She was good on the leash and was solidly walking with me until we got to our room…when she got into the bathtub and did not budge whatsoever. Poor Lucy was an emotional mess. Rob wisely cited that “this was not a rehome, but a rescue”. I concur. I was really regretting my impulsivity and worrying about how this might not be a good thing. Seriously worrying.
Basically, Lucy did not eat, drink or communicate for the better part of month. The first few days she spent in the tub here at 2 Camp. She kept her tail tucked tightly between her legs such that I had to ask the vet if it was broken.. She saw the vet—with the vet encouraging me not to worry as they have seen dogs like her, and it takes time and they saw a loving animal. And so it began. She had never been on stairs…and now she adores them and for fun climbs them up and down as part of her daily routine. She now is my dog. Lucy is on better dog food and has lost (less volume) 20 lbs and counting. She now has a shape. She has been spayed, microchipped, clipped and cleaned. She has had a haircut and her coat is improving. She wags her tail for me…and her place of sanctuary is my office whether I am there or not. She is beginning to unfurl and show me her humor, her spunk and her smarts. I am optimistic.
And she loves popcorn. Caught a piece this morning as i tossed it to her.
We also have appointments with Russ. Russ Hollier is a dog whisperer from Cortland. I figured Russ could help Lucy become more of the dog she is…and once we are there, to work on basic training to improve our relationship. While Lucy gets a little closer, or lets Russ pat her (big deal, Lucy had some bad, traumatic men in her life) or reward her with a squeeze of cheese from a can— Russ tells me about his other dog customers and the things they are doing from work helping super anxious people to a person with disabilities whose dog is part of their support team. it is all very heartening and lightens my mind to know that Russ is changing lives both canine and human through his interaction and training.
We all need dogs during the age of Trump. They keep things real—and she pushes me to pay attention and support them. Lucy and I have a way to go…but she isn’t going anywhere and hopefully, the only place she will be going is vertical.
Fingers crossed.