~done~

 

                                                  I voted today. I'm done.

A special thanks to Dee Mallon for this excellent post on coping, especially the link to James Carville's article on why Kamala Harris will win.   Take heart.

                                  

Adventures awry

 The day after I got back from New York, there was an email invitation to the Kamala Harris rally in Atlanta. Harris, Obama, Springsteen? Are you kidding me? I spent a half hour checking to see it was a scam. I pounced and rsvp'd. 

After several email exchanges, I almost felt the FBI rifling through my file. Then I got the exact address and the logistics for attending. It was on! Lots of rules including NO bags of any kind. No food or water. Here's me assuming we'd be provided for. A whole separate location for ADA pickup and entry. My walking stick was approved. It was a go! 

I left my car at a MARTA station and joined a long queue waiting for the buses to take us to the venue. The excitement, the solidarity was joyfully palpable. I was about to start meeting the angels.

Angel number One, so appropriately named Angela, my seatmate. Both of us have seen the campaigns of life. Both of us on sticks, our back, and hips trying their best to behave and let us have this day.

The weather was perfect. Small mercy. The bus let us off at the ADA entrance. We stood in another line that moved slower and slower. A staffer made her way down the line to warn us to take everything out of our pockets. It was slowing down security. With no bags, what else was there?  I had my car keys and my ID stashed in my bra. 

Samuel Jackson's limo rolled up and he poked his head out to say hey. 

Then things went sideways. Another staffer made her way back along the line to advise that the west side of the venue was full and the entrance would be closing. Hundreds of people were still in line. Crutches, canes, wheelchairs and caretakers. It looked like a pilgrimage to Lourdes. The only option was to walk back down to the road and hike about a half-mile back to the main gate where we, the halt, lame, and deranged, would be granted special access ahead of the hoi polloi. 

I was already low on gas, but Angela took my arm and said, "We got this." The woman literally saved my life, counting off a dozen steps at a time and then stopping for a breather. If it hadn't been for Angela, I would have lay down in the weeds and watched as the parade went by without me. 

True to the word passed, a young man met us at the gate and shepherded us to the last security checkpoint, airport style, wands and all. Secret service was serious. At this point, I was having trouble getting enough air and my legs were shaking. Another slow line and my vision started darkening around the edges. We were at the last set of stairs. Angela grabbed a cop, who called for EMS and I told her I was in the right hands and to go on without me. She was reluctant, but she pressed on.

I was quickly treated to Fulton County's finest care. EMTs did their thing. Gave me a big blue Gatorade to finish. I was dehydrated. My bad.  I left the house on only a cup of coffee and half a sandwich worried about if and when I'd have access to a bathroom. An EMT said he heard that all the time. Not an unreasonable concern.

I spent the next hour in a Cooling Station, a converted command vehicle. I could hear everything, but I wasn't really taking it in.

Then the second angel, the same young male staffer who got us through security came back to me and told me that the buses would be coming soon. 

I sat outside the cooler and watched the human parade oddly detached from the whole point of being there. There were hundreds of people just milling around outside. Apparently fire marshall put a cap on how many people could actually be admitted to the stadium which holds fifteen thousand. I was surprised to find that most of the people outside hadn't bothered to register. 

Young angel returned, took me by the arm, and whispered, "Let's get you a ride." He walked me down to the road where the buses were lumbering like elephants in a circus parade, pounded on the door of the first one sporting a Kensington Station sign, and asked the driver to let me board there instead of a half-mile down the road.  Goodbye, young angel. Thank you.

I climbed aboard and settled in for the long slow ride back to the station. Traffic was nearly frozen, blue lights strobing everywhere just to keep order. Another angel, our bus driver, cruised a full-sized school bus through a crowded parking lot dropping us off at our cars, one by one. 

A good time was had by all and I am a bit more cognizant of my limitations. 

Good to be home from home

This trip to NY was all about family. My brother should open a bed and breakfast—the kind where you feed yourself or go out and sleep as late as you want. I have to buy him a Mr.Coffee to tuck in the pantry for my next visit, but the little delis in the area are superb. 

The Bitches took their road trip to eat seafood seaside. Georges of Galilee did not disappoint. The weather was perfect, the beach was still crowded with people. Salt air and sunshine. 


We took in a frosty soccer game to watch my nephew play.

My turn to wander

 

Away awhile 

Ah, Friday.

 

This has been a hectic week that had a very sweet finish.

Before any of that, I'll be out of town next week. If you want threads or cloth and let me know ASAP, Monday will be my last crack at the post office until I get back.

It's been so long since I've traveled by plane that I've forgotten how to pack. New York in October can be boots or sandals and damned if I can decide. 

That sweetness? I picked Charlie up from school midday on Thursday and we had all day Friday together. I took him to math tutoring right after school and later that evening we spent an hour reading side by side, each of us lost in our own books. Reading aloud may have

slipped away with babyhood.

Friday morning, I introduced him to acrylic paints. Just playing with the medium and noticing how it's different than Crayola watercolors. What gesso and underpainting are about. How gel medium can change everything. Green and red still make mud. Talk about building your own canvases. Art school stuff.

He wanted to paint what jazz makes him feel. All morning. Then outside for the rest of the day because the weather is so perfect that the

mosquitos moved to Alabama.

A while back, I gave him my old Ipod, still loaded with "my" music. Everything from Little Anthony & the Imperials  the Eagles.  He found the missing charger and earbuds that worked I set the volume limiter. Such a clever little thing.

  All this while I struggled to get used to hearing aids. Finally.