Thursday, July 28, 2011

desperately democratic

Back in Michigan and I'm greasing up grand babies with sunscreen because we're headed to the pool.  I eat more vegetables when I visit my son Jim  than I do when my oldest, Jason, shows up at my door with his highly selective vegan diet. Jim and Sara are  feeding children and they take their job seriously, not a french fry or laffy taffy in sight.  By the way, those vegans, when they aren't feeling so goddamn proud of themselves, are either shopping for food, chopping it up, preparing it and finally eating. Without fatty vein-riddled meat on your plate you pretty much eat all day to maintain fullness and nutrition.  Of course, there is beans or nuts for your protein fix, but they ain't no cheeseburger.

I pick up Sara's left hand and tsk, tsk there is no ring on that finger.  We've already picked it out, says Jim, we are presently amassing funds and there are some concerns.  Evidently, the conscientious gem shopper must make certain his purchase  is a conflict-free diamond and so there are these jewelry ethical issues to consider.  Jim starts to explain but young Arya interrupts with a more interesting observation and the topic is tabled.

Back at the hotel my friend B.Obama is talking on that scary debt issue and don't you wish his tie was a different color than navy or red.  How about a Grinch pattern or something by Jerry Garcia?   I shook this young president's hand in a parking lot of a public school in my hometown three and a half years ago.  He was wearing a plaid shirt and jeans and he squeezed my hand while he listened to an old lady's question.  I felt the spirit move, there was energy flowing from his karma to mine, possibly my imagination. The Republican response says that O's ideas are sucking the life out of the American people.  I'm not feeling anything sucked out of me and am certain I would recognize that sensation. Call me desperately Democratic.

My fingernails are three different sparkly colors thanks to the work of a granddaughter this weekend.  Dave's toenails are sporting the same color explosion and perhaps I'll forget where I put the polish remover and then Dave's visit to his gym tomorrow may result in a most interesting experience. 

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