So of course, flat sage green. I’m thinking of working with the texture in the walls – they’re old and hand plastered.

Thing is, I know I should paint the ceiling first. But the ceiling is inordinately high. so then I have to stand on a stepladder to paint it. And it, too, is textured. PITA. I’ve also got a ceiling fan. Double PITA.

Then if I have to deal with the ceiling fan, I’ll probably have to give it a thorough cleaning.

All of this by myself.

I don’t mind painting the walls, and the trim…but the ceiling and everything else is too much to ask for just me.

I think the joy I will take out of getting the semi-gloss off the wall and painting it a lovely perfect green – flat! – will outpace the annoyance I might feel when I know I didn’t do the ceiling.

At least that’s what I think right now.

I’m going down hill again. She didn’t want to give me antibiotics with my last visit, which is when she scheduled the specialist for the 14th, so I’m wondering if I’m supposed to go to him good and sick.

And I thought about changing Doctors and I asked Janie today and when she found out who my Doctor was, she said she had a very good rep.

So I’m sick of being sick. I meaner than mean – and I’m quick to mean in the first place. I’m sick of being sick and I am depressed about it, clearly. I literally cry sometimes because I am so sick of being sick. Sick of the headache the earache the throat ache. My ribs and my back and my kidneys even hurt from coughing.

It’s really hard to fall asleep when you’ve coughed like a tuberculosis patient in the middle of the night.

People ask me how I’m doing and I’ve taken to asking them no to ask me. I know they mean well. I can’t say I’m getting better at this point (so many relapses…and I’m currently sinking into one but praying I can make it through tomorrow so I can sleep all weekend).

So I look at them and shake my head and say I can’t tell you I’m getting better and I know you meean well but please don’t ask because I’m really not getting any better. I hope I do, but that’s where it’s at.

Anyways.

I was hoping that would make me feel better. It hasn’t.

Guess I’ll go hit the Lortab.

Fuck.

For our own style of hate here, Montana has Reverend Himes who openly called for the killing of gays during a legislative hearing on Montana House Bill 516 – one of those Missoula nullification bills. This one is designed to repeal my cities equality ordinance which extended equal protection rights to GBLT people.

Do watch Ellie get Himes on the record calling for the murder of gays.

I find myself so angry lately about this, that I’m beginning to wonder if I’m not misdirecting it even just a tiny bit towards all conservatives. I don’t want to, but one of the things I guess I expect is for those that disagree to get out there and say something. But I’m just not seeing it.

Though that isn’t completely true, as I know my friend the mayor has headed up that way twice this session already to tell these fools how wrong they are (and my mayor hasn’t, mind you.)

And one legislator stood on the floor of the House and told ‘em all they looked like buffoons. I live tweeted that one…and later saw various local and wire stories about what he said for days.

I get so damned disgusted with it all. It’s so friggin’ predictable it amazes me. Now we have the conservatives who’ve stripped everything they could and more out of the budget and dissed on everything about the proposed budget but now that it’s second half of the session they’re putting it back in. Patting themselves on the back. And doing it the same way as it was originally proposed by the great bloviator.

Which is what they did in 2007 with a whole bunch of bills.

If dems don’t fuck this up, they’ll maintain the media superiority they have on this and continue to push national coverage on our tea bagger hypocrite issue. One of the twitter people I follow is in PR and she was working on a ny times editor she knows…and I suggested she get in touch with everyone she knows who knows colbert or stewart.

Which is funny because on the last day of February, colbert did do a piece on the bill from read which said that global warming was good for the montana economy.

~~~~~~
Well. This is feeling cathartic. And I musta really needed it because I can’t believe I’m writing politics here.

There are vistas I see as if I were there yesterday. Roads. Water. It’s hard to explain yet so very familiar as if I cross these paths and swim these waters and climb these hills every day.

In the canyon yesterday I pondered whether in a past life whether these were my lands.

On the road many years ago – I can’t remember at this moment the place or the destination – an old Indian man came up to me and looked me in the eyes and asked me if I were Shoshone. I wasn’t shocked – I like to travel as a local. I search the local dives and I will talk with anyone. When he asked I answered that I am part Indian but I don’t know what tribe because my mom’s family is embarrassed and doesn’t want to find out more. That my great grandfather married an Indian woman as he traveled to Alaska to find gold, so it could have been any tribe.

He put his hand on my shoulder and told me with a smile, nodding, “You are Shoshone. I know.”

I don’t look Indian – at least I don’t think that I do. No one’s ever told me that before and no one has ever told me that since.

In the canyon yesterday, and while I stood in the Big Horn River, I wondered whether this is my home.

The water smelled so good. It was clean. Familiar.

I don’t have enough time to cover the roads I want to cover. I’d like to get to the other side of the Winds, into Dubois. Up to the edge of the wilderness there. There is a place where the rocks rise a thousand feet above a meadow and a river begins its journey. In the spring its power is breathtaking…in the fall it brings tears to your eyes, the beauty of it all.

There isn’t enough time.

It’s a large area. Magnificent lands. Ancient.

There isn’t enough time this time. I will be back. While everything changes I realize now that I’m here that nothing does in real time. In dirt time. Rock time. Water time.

Had an Harassment in the Workplace training today. During the discussion regarding protected classes, one of my co-workers asked (with an attitude) whether “illegal aliens” were a protected class. He didn’t think foreigners should be protected from discrimination if they are illegal aliens. I looked around the room of about 30 people, & I saw a number of coworkers nodding their head (as in “Yeah. What about those illegal aliens!? We aren’t protecting them too, are we?”)

Ugh, to recognize the ugly that doesn’t even bother to hide.

I found out the politically correct word for firing someone: ending their future.

It was meant in a nice sort of way – or not in a mean sort of way. The sort of way that is what it is because, really, it is what it is.

Dawn Quixote was always one of the more favorite of names that people used for me as they got use to the jhwygirl thing.

Since having that “tilting at windmills” conversation, I find myself wondering why. Why do it? Does it make a difference? Is it worth it?

I want to know that there is someone out there that writes a legislator because of something I wrote. I want to know that they picked up the phone and called Rehberg or Baucus or Tester. Sometimes there are days when I want to know that I’m not viewed as some nutcase lunatic.

Usually both he and Maddie feed around 6 or so. Maddie is a cross-breed lab/border collie mix. She look like a long coated retriever, and I, in fact, get that question a lot.

Tucker is a full breed Parsons Russell Terrier. Feisty. Full of piss and vinegar but cute as hell.

Maddie’s food is always out. Hers is on top of a 5 gallon drum. It’s out of the reach of Tucker, but not due to wanting to do so – merely because raising food for larger dogs is supposed to be healthier for them.

Tucker’s food is on the floor (he’s all of 22 pounds) – but the problem is that he likes to kick that bowl around the house so I don’t always see it sitting there empty.

Poor little thing.

So while he was sitting there bitching at me for the last hour and a half, I was looking at him telling him to stop and also trying to ignore him.

And all he wanted is some food. ‘Cause now that I’ve fed him, he’s shut up and is happily wrestling Maddie in the middle of the living room.

In my defense, that little ^&#*5 sometimes does sit there and bark at me for long lengths of time. Just kinda sitting there, just off to the left, “woof.”

Just because he can.

“I have a brain tumor.”

What do you say?

“Whoa,” I fumbled, “Are you OK – what…gee, I don’t know what to say.  What….?”

They cut in (thankfully.)

“Oh, I’ll have to have surgery, it’s scheduled for the end of this month.  Hopefully it’s benign.”

Good positive thinking, I thought.

“How’d you find out?”

“Well, I’d been having severe headaches…and dizzy spells.  Went to the doctor, and at first he thought it was a virus, and it did go away, but the spells came back, so he sent me in for tests.  That’s when I found out.”

“Oh.”

“So I’ve found a good neurosurgeoyn.”

“There are a couple of excellent ones right here,” I interjected.  (I happen to know.)

“Yep,” they continued, “So I’ll be in there for a couple of days – they just have to make a small slice here (they motioned, showing me the location), and hopefully they’ll be able to get it all out.”

~~~~~~

I ran into them (I’m trying to avoid identifying this person, so please excuse the awkwardness) about 8 weeks later.  They looked no worse for the wear.

“How’s it going?”

“Not bad.  I’ll be starting chemo in two weeks.  Should be done by beginning of the year.”

“So it was malig….?”

“Yep.  But they got most of it out.”

I should mention this person has always been optimistic.  I’m quite the opposite.

“Great.  You look good.”

“Yep – hardly a cut they had to make.”

“No shaved head or anything?

“Nope, ” and they showed me the spot.  It was barely noticeable.

~~~~~~

So I’m still somewhat freaked (and maybe that is a too-strong word) to talk to this person.  I feel sorry for them, while they don’t seem to be feeling sorry for themselves.  An innocent “How are you doing” turned into a major self-introspection on the meaning and value of life and what is important and what isn’t and how to handle what life throws at you with grace and patience.

But for a while now, anytime anyone asked me how I’m doing, my answer is always this:   “Great.”

Call me crazy, but I can’t see how you can make logic out of cheering for the pregnancy and marriage of a 17 year old high school student.

Teen birth rates – by numbers, by state – all kinds of ways. Of interest:

In 2000, teenage birthrates were highest in Mississippi, Texas, Arizona, Arkansas and New Mexico. The states with the lowest teenage birthrates were New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, North Dakota and Maine.

And Mississippi, Texas, Arizona, Arkansas and New Mexico vote how?

Which brings me to something I’ve been thinking, and I actually had occasion today to bring it into conversation. A friend – a mother – was discussing Palin. Talking about Palin’s daughter’s pregnancy and her views on abortion. About how she was irresponsible with educating her about sex and birth control, etc. Very seriously – and this is exactly what I’ve been thinking – I said “How do you know she isn’t happy with her daughter’s pregnancy?” I went on, “It sure seemed last night that she was celebrating her pregnancy. Championing the whole thing. Maybe they really don’t have a problem with it at all? I mean – it sure looked like it. Looked like they were fine with the whole thing.” My friend raised her eyebrows. Didn’t know what to say. Not that I do either. I mean – as I said – I’ve been mulling that over.

Sure seems the Republicans are doing a bunch of double-talk. “Leave the children out of it” while championing an unmarried 16-year old’s pregnancy.

How does that work, exactly?

Jefferson County Alabama will be filing for bankruptcy over its sewer infrastructure woes.

Alaska Real

Whether she’s a huckster or a bigot, she’s immensely offensive. If Republicans were smart, they’d make her stop…or, better yet, get rid of her.

Fahrenthold disagrees with Al Gore’s Apollo-like call for having all of our electricity needs met with renewable resources within 10 years.

The State of Washington is ending wi-fi at its interstate rest stops. Bummer.

Boeing, Washington State’s largest employer, is digging in for a strike.

Wherein I agree with Chuck Todd. Not that I’da voted for her or Ann Richardson or Libby Dole anyways, but those chicks gotta be saying “WTF!”

Mudflats.

addendum: Waiting on the strike vote. I stand with the IAMAW.