(˙ǝʌlǝʍʇ ɯɐ ı) ˙ǝɯosǝʍɐ sı sıɥʇ

I dreamed I had him back. He was strong and young and happy, his coat shining orange, his mane long and tangled, his expression intelligent and wry. I can still feel the hot sun on his neck, and smell his unforgettable scent, mixed with the eucalyptus flowers.

This time I had enough money, and he wasn’t going to die of cancer, and everything was going to be okay.

Boston, then New York, then San Francisco briefly, then Las Vegas, and now back in my darling San Francisco again. So tired I can’t write or think or parse Spanish or make connections or keep more than two things in short term memory. Claire has a tummy bug and a fever. She is asleep with her hot feet in my lap. It’s so good to be home that the very thought of it brings tears to my eyes.

In the small hours after the acceptance speech, I was reading – very anxiously – the Conservative blogosphere. I do this occasionally to get out of my echo chamber. Liz does it in a much more disciplined and organized way, and while I’d like to emulate that, mostly it upsets me too much. Anyway I followed a link to this one guy’s blog and now I can’t find it again and don’t want to wade back through all those comments, but –

His point was that he was extremely sad about the result, and cynical about an Obama administration, but grateful about and awed by the peaceful transfer of power. I remembered that that was my only real shred of comfort in the wake of the Democratic losses in 2000 and 2004. What a grown-up thing! Bitter partisans accepting the other side’s triumph!

The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that this is democracy. We liberals want to be all yay! Vindicated! Take that Dubya and whatever, but Obama’s victory is only partly that, and partly a manifestation of this nation’s innate desire to change things up every eight to twelve years. That honest grief I felt for Gore and Kerry? I know McCain’s supporters feel that way now. I can see it in their faces. I can remember every pang of sorrow. I wish them only peace. It’s why Obama urges no high-fives, no triumphalism. It’s the United States.

This is the price of democracy: that committed, political people will, half the time, have their hearts smashed to bits. Every few years we open executive power up for debate, and sometimes the other guys win, and then we mourn and rage and say it’s gonna be the end of the world. But the alternative is to have the same guy in power for ever and ever and that is MUCH, much worse.

This is democracy! It’s a chance for the disenfranchised to take the mike. And in four or eight or twelve years? We’re gonna have to give it back. That’s the deal. It’s this or a dictatorship.

It’s easy to say it right now, with my guy having just won, so remind me of this next time us liberals are out in the cold: I say it is worth it. I will endure the grief of loss ten times over before I will deny anyone else the right to vote for their candidate ahead of mine.

Abe Lincoln (who totally supported my guy) put it like this:

We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic cords of memory will swell when again touched as surely they will be by the better angels of our nature.

And Ze Frank is saying it with Tubes.

My centrist Christian tax-cutting guy beat the other centrist Christian tax-cutting guy. Euphoria! Hippies dancing in the streets wrapped in the American flag. Yet California voted against love.

And yet and yet: there will be a black man in the Oval Office. A president for his supporters and for the people who didn’t vote for him; a president from my America, for the world; a 21st Century president for the Long Now and the Big Here.

I’ll miss compulsively-reloading Nate Silver, whose outstanding wonkery covered itself in glory. I’ll miss Fake Sarah Palin. I’m not under any illusions; the country and the planet are in a big-ass mess with no easy way out. But I will never forget last night or this morning. I feel honoured to have witnessed this.

Completely failed to Nanowrimo yesterday or today; a bit distracted deciding the election the way I fly every plane I passenge in – KEEPING IT ALOFT BY PURE FORCE OF WILL.

Lucky MT lets me back-date ’em…

Am in possession of one (1) husband. He seems intact. He’s all epiphany-licious and wants to Seize The Day. I’m all After the election, buster.

A cat is inveigling itself onto my lap.

The extra hour just made a long day longer.

I decided to do Nanowrimo for the first time in a few years. My novel is called “The New International Version”, and it takes the form of two LiveJournals. Masochists and the more indulgent of my friends can follow them here:

TrueLoveKnots
Doctor Proudie

It’s been a while since I blogged about The Girls And Their Awesome, which is odd and lame of me, because Their Awesome is Very.

Julia is experimenting with language. “I missed Daddy,” she said the other night, in an emo moment, clearly meaning the present tense. It’s a direct search-and-replace from what I always say when I see her after work: “Julia! I missed you!” Other idioms of hers are translations from the Spanish. “I want much milk!” she says. “Mucher and mucher!” Jeremy pointed out that this was a literal rendition of “mas” and “mucho.”

My relationship with Claire is a little stormy at the moment, Claire’s experiments being in the area of defiance. “No!” said Julia to me last night during one heated exchange: “no shout at my sister!” She’s right, of course. She’s also extremely well-mannered. If I photically sneeze, she and I will volley: “Bless you.” “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” “I love you.” “I love you too, mommy.”

Ah, Claire, my volatile, stubborn, brilliant, fabulous rock star. She and I butt heads continually. I would take a bullet for her in a heartbeat and I believe she’d make an excellent president, but does she have to be SO IMMATURE? The other night she went into full meltdown because I had given her ice cream in a blue bowl, AT HER REQUEST, and ignored her followup request to disregard the earlier request, take the orange bowl away from Julia and give it to her, Claire. She went to bed without ice cream, rather than back down! I HAVE NEVER WITNESSED SUCH SELF-DEFEATING FOOLISHNESS except, of course, obviously, my own.

Did I mention brilliant? May I brag? No? I will anyway. She had a catch-up piano lesson one Friday, in which she learned a new melody; by her regular lesson on Sunday, 36 hours later, she was playing the duet with Renee. She lazily corrects my awful Spanish and instructs me in Important Facts. (Actually Julia has picked up this habit as well: last night I made the obviously unfounded claim that we live on planet Earth. Julia pointed out that we live in our house, while planet Earth is in space, and can only be reached by going UP UP UP UP.)

God, they crack me up. Claire picked up Arthur and the Comet Crisis at the library. There’s a passage in it in which a computer notes that the comet will destroy the earth, and adds: “Have a nice day!” Claire thought this was beyond hilarious, and has been reading it to anyone who will stand still long enough to hear it. She has inherited my bleak sense of humour and taste for apocalyptic science fiction! Good times, good times.

When the alarm goes off before sunrise every morning, groan, they jump into the big bed with me and the cat and I hug them as tight as I can, looking down at their dear heads, one strawberry-blonde bob, one puff of white silk. My daughters, my daughters, my daughters; I never dreamed I could possibly love anyone so much. Mucher and mucher.

dalai lama

Originally uploaded by yatima

Note to self.

J: Jules is so much in the family tradition. I put her to bed. I go back later to find her surrounded by books.

“It’s what I was saying the other day – being with you is like solitude, only better -”

“Loneliness: now with more people!”

“You know a sensitive husband would totally understand what I am saying, and be touched by it -”

“I’m like nobody, only more so!”

“You’re just digging a hole for yourelf.”

“The Well of Loneliness?”

“The well of loneliness-only-better.”

Monroe Fall Fun Festival: games, prizes, decorating sugar skulls and cupcakes, mini golf, bowling, a haunted house. When it was described to me I thought “okay, fine,” and I turned up mostly because I’d volunteered on the lollipop tree.

It was astoundingly good fun. The weather was shiny and beautiful, and the girls ran from booth to booth with cries of delight. All the other children were doing the same. Halloween came early: Principal Jen Steiner was a purple butterfly, Claire was a green fairy and Julia was a ballerina. It wasn’t even as sugary as you’d think. I am pretty lenient with respect to cookies and cupcakes, and the sugar skulls weren’t for eating.

I have girl-crushes on all the women in the PTA. They’re all Barbara Pym characters, practical and kind, and will be played in the movie by Judi Dench. The whole day had the feeling of a church fete except that instead of loading up the children with guilt and shame, we’re trying to get them to college.

IMG_0503

Originally uploaded by Kathy_Ramsey

One day Martha will rule the world. Remember, you heard it here.

The best thing about leaving San Francisco is always coming home. Today we ventured as far as Mountain View! The horror! But we zoomed back up 280 into a perfect golden evening over the Sunset District. Everything was bright and clear-edged as it is in southern France.

After I dropped Karin off and turned Hedwig for home I realized that I would see Jeremy and the girls soon. It was a great warm wave of joy.