A quote in the Washington Post today about the GOP: “ “The demographics race we’re losing badly,” said Sen. Lindsey O. Graham (S.C.). “We’re not generating enough angry white guys to stay in business for the long term.” ”

Generating. Angry. Okay…  CNN itself did not report what happened at the convention today until other outlets started asking them why, since they certainly should have had photographic evidence; finally, Wolf Blitzer made a statement re his camerawoman: a couple of abusive, racist people had gone, literally, nuts. “This is how we feed the animals!” as they threw peanuts at her.

Do I need to mention she was black and female? Did they realize how much shame the whole country would feel that they would think of such a thing, much less do it before the watching world?

Well, there you go, Graham. But at least those two got thrown out. Who they were or whether they were banned completely or snuck back in later, nobody seems to know. And if they’re actual elected representatives (or future ones), their constituents need to know.

A little calm fact-checking and setting in order after the speeches.

Richard, horrified at what that woman had been put through, hoped hard that Blitzer had told her that she didn’t have to stay there, that she didn’t have to take that, telling me he once counseled a fellow employee to just get up and walk out on a harasser and not ever worry about her job for it. He would stand up for her: her job was the one that was safe.

Boy did that bring back memories.  In the year after my college graduation, I had a boss who harangued and demeaned everybody. The car she was in was stuck? It happened to need the one and only thing I knew how to fix, I totally won as it started right up, and right there as the others on our shift were cheering me on she dissed me for it: only stupid people were mechanics.

And so much more. I needed that job but I hit the point of no return and all I could do was quit. Unbeknownst to me, every single one of my fell0w co-workers under her (there were about eight of us) did the same thing the same week; I was just the first. Then, at last, she was sent packing.

Thank heavens for good bosses who stand by their employees. We moved across the country for a good boss. A good boss is worth everything.

And you know we’re the bosses in this election. Be good ones. Vote!

I’m going to say one last thing on the topic of a woman’s right to make her own decision. There’s more to this. Our local Jackie Speier stood up in the House last year, angry, and described what she personally had had to go through: she had lost a baby and had had to go through “that procedure,” a D&C.

I know that she and her husband had long struggled with fertility issues, that that baby was dearly wanted. She did have I think two kids afterwards–and then her husband was killed in a car accident while they were little.

What I did not know until that speech hit the paper was that the men trying to push all the personhood and anti-Planned Parenthood bills were also trying to make it so that new doctors would not be taught how to do D&Cs because those are used in abortions, and were even wanting to criminalize the procedure itself.

I want to scream every time I think about that, Do you know what that means?!

When I miscarried my first pregnancy at almost four months and the fetus was dead, the doctor who did the D&C told me that I had to have that done in order to protect me from scarring, from having leftover tissue that could cause infections, that if it were not done I might never be able to have children. I had that D&C; I went on to have two daughters and two sons.

Do we outlaw all guns everywhere because some are used to kill living people? Did a bullet ever help a body heal?

———

Okay, enough of that. So. I took my baby dress project to Purlescence tonight, the one I’m working on to match little Eden Alison’s hat. Except, I was stumped. All these years of knitting and I just haven’t done baby clothes–the first sweater I made Parker when he was a few months old fit his three-year-old cousin.

So I asked Pamela, who knits for her little grandchildren all the time, and Danette, who has a toddler. The bottom hem seemed to be coming out too big. We talked fit and the whys and hows of it. (I know I linked to that chart the other day but I needed knitters around me to tell me in person.)

That did it. I sat down and got going, and I am really pleased now with how it’s coming out. Like I so wanted to be all along.

Re last night’s post: I’ve been there.

I was pregnant, my lupus diagnosis that explained so much was years in the future, and things were not going well for me.  At all. The obstetrician decided it was time to spell out the options.

NO!

If you don’t survive the pregnancy then we lose both of you.

No.

I prayed really hard to know whether I was just having the knee-jerk reaction of a mother protecting her child–as well she should want to; what should I do. Richard prayed too. Hard.

And, deep breath, I felt, I really felt, it would turn out okay. I went ahead with it and we both survived.

But I had that choice. No one but absolutely no one had the moral authority to make it but me alone with my God. No one. Not even my husband, much though I love him. This was my ordeal as the mother of my children and the wife to my husband and as me myself. I made that choice.

Those who vote for personhood bills say that my daughters and yours should not have that choice, that those Congressmen’s political power and their religious views on when life starts trump not just everyone else’s religions and views but our very lives.

The next president could well be choosing Supreme Court justices. Vote. Please, please, vote, please stand up for us all.

And on a lighter note, just because I need it after writing this so very personal story out loud for all the world to criticize, come see here–scroll to the bottom. Barn owls are nesting on the 11th floor of the Marriott near the airport here. It’s clear they have closed off access to that balcony:  they “are letting the owlets enjoy their stay in peace.”

And the staff is handing out stuffed owls to the children staying at the hotel, probably sparking an interest in birds in them for life. And perhaps their own children’s to come, as my parents taught me.

I just think that’s really, really cool.

And. My brother-in-law Ned was in town and took us all out for dinner after he got away from work. Much love was enjoyed by all. I can only wish his job flew him out here more often.

There was packing. There was a glad-you-were-here celebration of a dinner. He sold his Suburu to a dealer today because he wasn’t going to need a car in New York City, and then his girlfriend gave him a ride from the lot to our house and helped him get ready for his flight out.

And so, our nephew left tonight after spending the summer with us while doing an internship and getting to know her family better as well as ours.

I’m trying hard not to mope.  Such a nice kid. And besides–he needed to gain weight after an illness, I need to gain weight, who else can I bake for like that totally guilt-free? Speaking of which: the hazelnut cookies? Skip the oil and add several ounces of good dark chocolate instead. Just sayin’.

(I got the girlfriend’s favorite color out of her before the evening was over. So sneaky. Right.)

I so love Skyping with Parker and his parents. Now we just have to figure out the angles so we can read him a book sometime, but for today, waving and reaching out to each other and giggling and chatting along with a little adult conversation on the side will do, and glad for it.

Suddenly thinking of my great-great grandparents who crossed the plains, covered wagons and all; once you’ve left, you’ve left. So close, so far away…

Today I had to return some Lands End dress shirts because they quit selling 38 sleeves, and hoping didn’t do a thing to make a 37 length do the job. I told Richard before I left that the nearest Sears store was 25 miles away and it just happened to be near Cottage Yarns in South San Francisco.

I kinda wonder if that’s why I’d chanced it.

And so a little extra Malabrigo filled a gap in my stash–I’d needed a skein of superwash Rios in guy-friendly colors. The little bit of Finito added in will be justifiable only when I see someone’s happy face when it’s done. I’ll have to get to it, and soon.

Coming home down 280, the self-proclaimed “most beautiful freeway in America,” the coastal mountains and reservoir to one side and hills to the other giving intermittent glimpses of the San Francisco Bay and valley, what was probably the peregrine who lives near the Flintstone house soared overhead, coasting on the thermals. Glorious.

Back home to real life. That new yarn staring at me did it. I had been dithering over my new niece’s gift, unable to pick just one pattern and just one idea. Enough. I grabbed my needles, cast on, ribbed, doublechecked the stitch count, debated, and dove in for Eden Alison. Pink sheared mink.

Somehow it turned out like this. I didn’t see till I took the picture that the lace echoed the wings there.

And somehow I didn’t see till I was well into it that what I was knitting was a crown for our sweet little princess.

You would think I was the one having the baby: nesting instinct kicked in bigtime, thanks to Carolyn’s son (still not here) and the particular joy of little Eden Alison. I got things rearranged and cleaned and swept inside and, when the sun was low, out on the patio, too. Bricks and stones despite my bones got moved to new places. It felt great.

I played in the kitchen, a pistachio chocolate torte recipe, trying to branch out a little from the hazelnut type; it’s cooling. Michelle’s working on a strawberry pie.

And though I thought I’d used it all up already, I found out I do still have some baby pink sheared-mink yarn in my stash. Alright!

What to make, what to make…

And then the inspiration: I asked Michelle, What do you want me to bake?

Her face lit up. Cranberry cake! (With me wracking my brain, had I ever made such a thing, is she remembering and I’m not, help me out here, hon.)

Cranberry cake?

Yeah, cranberry cake, with molasses and. wait. but. not like the one I made it was too soggy.

I caught on fast that whatever she was referring to had to have been experimented with while she’d been away at school, because I was still at wai- what- ? I asked her where the recipe was?

Oh I found it on the Internet, but I need to modify it next time.

I walked out of the kitchen trying not to laugh too hard. Randomness. Ah my. All those cookbooks, and all we do is sit down at the computer and type into Google. And then when you find a really good recipe, you have to blog it so you can follow your own link to ever find the thing again. Cranberry cake? I’ve had a cranberry bar recipe for twenty-odd years and it’s one of her very favorites, but no, she wanted cake.

And so I found this one. (We skipped the kirsch.) No molasses in sight, but it promised it would be in the oven in ten minutes, with more cranberries than sugar. Sold!

It’s very good. Michelle and I might actually put a bit less sugar in next time (and we skipped the whipped cream and substituted Earth Balance for the butter so she could eat it, and we sprinkled two tbl brown sugar alone across the top for a crunchy topping) but hey. Good stuff. Red polka dot cake for my little girl.

My brother sent me a link to a video wherein our uncle’s name was mentioned, their story told with the pictures and reels of the day. Wow.

My parents will be celebrating their 60th anniversary this fall and it occurs to me after watching that that we their children need to do what was done back when Mom’s dad turned 90: come armed with cameras and recorders and a list of questions and get them reminiscing for us. I know that Dad’s mom headed her county’s Red Cross knitting for the troops–how did she knit ten hours a day, as her letter said she did, with rheumatoid arthritis? Did it come later?

A nephew once had a school assignment to ask family members to write in his booklet about some memory of some day in history and then mail it to the next person and the next and finally back to him by the end of the school year. Dad wrote that he had been a teenager cutting Christmas trees with the Boy Scouts as a fundraiser and was in the back of a pickup with 49 trees piled high around him when his dad came up the road to their surprise and stopped them: Pearl Harbor had just been bombed!

I remember watching Neil Armstrong on TV walking on the moon in grainy black and white. That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind. Later, my dad, my little sister and I got to watch the last of the Apollo flights take off in person, sitting on bleachers in the Florida heat at Cape Kennedy and wondering afterwards how much of the sunburn on our faces might be from the rocket boosters.

What day in history do you remember?

Three people, two cars, multiple errands that had no room for delay, and Michelle’s first day of work.

I dropped Richard off at his office. An accident, the freeway a parking lot, later a guy in a hot red sportscar trying to defy physics as he impulsively zoomed a left in front of me, the car in my other lane having turned out of the way exactly in time to save us all as I braked and veered. So close.

Remember that car alarm that is designed so my mechanic cannot disable it permanently that randomly goes off every now and then? The one that nearly got a man killed? I learned long ago from the manual that you have to put the key in the driver’s side and turn it quickly three times to the left to get it to stop. HONKHONKHONKHONKHONK

I was in downtown and next to an apartment complex, rush hour starting up, lots of people to bother, and this time it really meant it. Nothing stopped it, not the key, not the fob, not this, not that, nothing. I went through the manual again, noting wryly that I had written loudly on it where to find the page quickly. HONKHONKHONKHONKHONKHONK

Finally a mailman pulled onto the crowded street, found (an illegal) parking space a way down, hiked back to me and asked, Did you try this? (Which was not in the manual.)

Silence never sounded so good.

I went home absolutely beat.

And got a note from Suzanne: wasn’t it nice that I had the good health to be able to go do all that today?

She was right. I’d so needed that. Her gratitude changed everything.

And Michelle came home radiant. It was a little scary, the things they expected her to come up to snuff on so fast, but they were putting great faith in her and oh by the way you’re doing the big presentation in two weeks on…

A boss who believes in her already. She’s determined to live up to that. Perfect.

Years ago, a new Stanford grad asked Richard how on earth to decide between two job offers. One was more prestigious and paid more; the other, though, really spoke to him.

Richard told him: Imagine you’re driving home from work. Now, look in the rearview mirror: is the man looking back at you smiling?

The guy thanked him, took the lower-paying job, and years later he sent us a note letting us know where all that had come to–it had been the right road, most definitely. We will never forget that he took the time to let us know.

Michelle had thought she’d wanted a different job more, and when it didn’t happen, I told her she was going to be glad later that she hadn’t taken the wrong one.

She came home with the whole world her mirror. She’s smiling too.

Michelle thought of it first.

Me: When was the last time you saw your cousin Jonathan?

Ryan: I don’t think ever!

And so a trek was made over the reservoir and through the redwoods and we spent the evening at Richard’s aunt’s and uncle’s up in the mountains. Jonathan and his wife and young sons came north to his folks’ to meet us in the middle. Potluck salmon and salads, chicken on the barbecue, fruit and homemade bread on the beautiful deck overlooking the woods that Jonathan had built for his folks for his sister’s wedding (she has two kids now too). Ice cream, blackberry pie, dairy-free homemade cookies. Good people, good food.

And it was late enough and non-reflective enough and shaded enough by those towering trees standing sentinel that I was actually able to be out there. I cannot begin to describe how liberating that felt.

On our way home in the deepening dusk, a large hawk swooped near the road as we passed. Just to to add that perfect extra touch.

(p.s. at midnight: Go Curiosity Rover! Go NASA! Well done!)

Wow you guys. From zero last night to $730 as I type for Sam’s walk for lupus research. I woke up this morning, clicked on the link, and nearly burst into tears. Thank you cannot begin to describe it. Wow. Such a rush of emotions. This is our last month having to pay Michelle’s big COBRA health insurance bill, I feel terrible that I cannot quite yet make the effort I want towards Sam’s walk, and yet you all… Wow. Thank you.

On a side note for all the gardeners out there, I learned something today: the San Jose Mercury News is running classic Gary Bogue columns online, unwilling to let their wildlife specialist go in his as-of-last-week retirement. A woman had written in once to say that she had finally cured her squirrels of attacking her tomatoes.

By hanging red glass Christmas ornaments on them. Ooh, shiny! And the darkest reds are the sweetest, right?

One bite and they never touched them again.

Stephanie Pearl-McPhee and her fellow knitters hit the $50,000 mark and then blew right past it this afternoon in her multi-day bikeathon for AIDS patients. I can’t tell you how good that feels.

I can only wish. Today we found out that our daughter Sam is participating in a lupus walkathon fundraiser, with all funds raised going directly to research in the disease she and I have and with no administrative cut-outs.

There has been so little achieved for so long, in part because the FDA’s guidelines pretty much ruled out okaying a drug for a condition where a remission could occur of its own–so nobody tried. Some frustrated researchers with an interest in making a difference finally asked, If we can knock out one marker at a time, would that pass?

And so Benlysta got approved last year, the first new drug for us since corticosteroids (which don’t work for either of us) and Plaquenil (gives me massive hives) in 1955. Benlysta helps one out of eleven patients–a lot, so far, when it does. Sam, having run through everything else out there, is one of those lucky ones.

My daughter was very ill this past year till they gave it a chance. It may well be that she’s alive because of it.

Patients and their loved ones are the ones who have funded the research. Congress, not so much. There are more drugs in the pipeline working their way towards approval, patients helping patients find hope and researchers a cause to dedicate themselves to.

I know I just paid for plane tickets to last week’s wedding. But some things are just so good and so right, somehow we will do this.

There was a second wedding this week: one of Michelle’s classmates from the University of Michigan got married in Berkeley yesterday.

And so Michelle’s recent roommate flew out for it and she stayed with us for two nights, taking off early this morning. A second classmate had a red-eye flight home late tonight: so he would have, it looked like, nothing to do all day in a strange city.

Hey.

And so Michelle went to church while he rode BART over to our side of the Bay; having him a lot closer made it a lot easier.  She picked him up from the train station and took him to the Rodin sculpture garden at Stanford, art dealer’s granddaughter that she is. They hiked The Dish (and saw no mountain lions). He came to dinner; he exclaimed over the ataulfo mangoes in the salad, he loved her lemon-from-the-tree meringue pie, we had a great time. By the end of it we were all rooting hard for him to take a job here–there is a transfer offer in his future with an office here, so it’s a possibility. We talked up the place, hoping.

It was hard for me to see both of those good young people go and I’ve only barely met them. The day had me remembering when my own friends all split up at the end of our college careers, when the costs of long-distance telephone calls could easily wipe out a student’s paycheck and it was that or mail without the word snail yet but that often didn’t happen.

It’s great to know your kids have friends who are just the best. I wish them every blessing in their journeys ahead.

Cousin Michelle came for only the briefest visit at the very beginning of the reception, when aunts, uncles, cousins would be there but maybe not so many guests yet; with no immune system… But she wanted to see everybody, so she and her husband (whom I had never met) came. I was so glad.

She has breast cancer, and the news since diagnosis has not been comforting. We talked a bit; I told her I had survived 22 years since my lupus diagnosis, 13 since my Crohn’s, and said a little of what that has been. And I am still here.

She thanked me, telling me that comforted her greatly. I told her my prayers continue.

Cousin Joe came. I hadn’t seen him since he’d been quite little. I told his wife that one of the younger cousins had been three when he’d met my (6’8″) husband, who was then in college, and the little one had screamed in indignation, YOU’RE NOT TALLER THAN *MY* DADDY!!! and he ran away crying.

“That’s Joe,” she laughed.

I said to Richard later, Was it Uncle Dwayne or his wife that has the early Alzheimer’s?

His wife.

Huh. Because I thought so, I answered, so when I went up to them all standing together I re-introduced myself for her sake and she’s the one who exclaimed in joy, each word emphasized, “We. know. who. you. ARE!!!” As if anyone could possibly ever forget!

The father of the groom came. I hadn’t seen Mike since the divorce. He was humble, he was kind. I was so glad for him. I had worried. He and his ex treated each other very well and rejoiced together over their son’s happiness. I was so glad–and proud of them.

Richard’s sister, recovering from breast cancer herself, was a marvel in how much energy she put into making the day as perfect as could be. She did a great job.

Jacqui, the bride, was a joy and a gem, the kind of person where, you walk into her presence and you know you have a friend right there. Instantly.

My aunt and uncle let us stay at their house while we were there. (They were away.) I left a light blue lace silk scarf behind in thanks, and my aunt will be there tomorrow.

And we got to see and hug my parents for a few hours today before we left.