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pameladeanThis is mostly a note to myself, though of course comments are always welcome. If you are already unhappy, you may wish to skip on to some less gloomy landscape. I hope to provide some of those in the weeks to come, but I can't do it now.
I cannot imagine what made me think it was a good idea to have a doctor's appointment the day after the election. My original nurse practitioner left to work in Alaska, and this was my first visit with the new doctor. My single major health issue is hypertension, and I know perfectly well that the cause of it is a familial tendency to react with raised blood pressure to stress. I watched the numbers go up slowly as the election approached. This morning before I took my medication it was 126/106. At the doctor's office, it was 159/109. Luckily, the new doctor is sensible, and I was able to scrounge up notes from my somewhat sporadic monitoring over the past six months so that she could see that on the whole I am doing well.
I have chosen not to write half a dozen screeds in half a dozen moods. There's a half-written essay that glances off the election but not does directly address it; I don't know when it will be finished, since the things I am trying to pin down are elusive. The mood that I am about to express here seems more permanent, though not perhaps very worthy. I find that I would like to be able to look forward to seeing George Bush and his gang of ideopaths get what is coming to them, as I am quite sure that they will. But I fear deeply that the price in damage to what I love will be horrendous.
Nothing seems free of their taint. It has been a perfect crisp sunny late-autumn day, set about with the last yellow leaves, the deep red-brown of the thrifty oaks, a scroll of performing squirrels, the flash of the bluejay, the yell of the crow, the final blooms of annuals and a few determined native perennials, a sparse joyous sprinkle of white and yellow and red and pink. But Bush is entirely bent on wrecking the environment with a crowbar. No matter what I look at or what I think about, I remember that he wants to wreck it all.
I don't say for certain that he can. But I know that he wants to. I don't plan to give him any help with that.
Pamela
I cannot imagine what made me think it was a good idea to have a doctor's appointment the day after the election. My original nurse practitioner left to work in Alaska, and this was my first visit with the new doctor. My single major health issue is hypertension, and I know perfectly well that the cause of it is a familial tendency to react with raised blood pressure to stress. I watched the numbers go up slowly as the election approached. This morning before I took my medication it was 126/106. At the doctor's office, it was 159/109. Luckily, the new doctor is sensible, and I was able to scrounge up notes from my somewhat sporadic monitoring over the past six months so that she could see that on the whole I am doing well.
I have chosen not to write half a dozen screeds in half a dozen moods. There's a half-written essay that glances off the election but not does directly address it; I don't know when it will be finished, since the things I am trying to pin down are elusive. The mood that I am about to express here seems more permanent, though not perhaps very worthy. I find that I would like to be able to look forward to seeing George Bush and his gang of ideopaths get what is coming to them, as I am quite sure that they will. But I fear deeply that the price in damage to what I love will be horrendous.
Nothing seems free of their taint. It has been a perfect crisp sunny late-autumn day, set about with the last yellow leaves, the deep red-brown of the thrifty oaks, a scroll of performing squirrels, the flash of the bluejay, the yell of the crow, the final blooms of annuals and a few determined native perennials, a sparse joyous sprinkle of white and yellow and red and pink. But Bush is entirely bent on wrecking the environment with a crowbar. No matter what I look at or what I think about, I remember that he wants to wreck it all.
I don't say for certain that he can. But I know that he wants to. I don't plan to give him any help with that.
Pamela
