hillbilly, please

“Mr. Bright toyed with the idea of running as a Republican. He spoke with party activists ‘and prayed on it.’ But he decided that he felt more at home with the Democrats, whom he describes as the party of working people and the party of diversity.”

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This whole issue interests me for obvious reasons as a southerner and maybe not so obvious ones since I don’t talk about politics here very much.

I think we spend a lot of time ignoring history, or, at the very least, taking far too short a view of it. I’ve said many times that our view of time on a lot of issues–the space program, climate change, etc.–is too short-sighted. The same goes for politics.

I also think we spend far too much energy associating ourselves with and defining ourselves by a political party because we are expected to choose a side. What about the people in the middle, the people who might have to think (or pray) about which way to define themselves, whatever their motivations?

I’ve been called a yellow dog democrat several times, and I don’t mind it really. I lean more to the left (to varying degrees) on various issues, but the assumption that I am or must be 100% in lock step with the democratic party is not only annoying but also erroneous.

I…have to stop now or I’m going to write a screed.

“The basic recipe is undemanding. You brew a handful of bags of Lipton or Luzianne or whatever pekoe you prefer, pour the hot tea over a mound of sugar or simple syrup, add water to dilute to taste, stir, and serve over ice, with or without lemon. The amount of sugar is up to the maker, but generally runs somewhere between cotton candy sweet and sweet enough to liquefy your teeth.

Some people like to get fancy. Adding raspberries, using a coffeemaker to brew the blend, sneaking in baking soda to tame the bitterness. These people are annoying. Sweet tea should be just that. Any differences should come from the alchemy of proportion and tea selection, not questionable, post-brewed, kitchen sink-ian doctoring. Save that for BBQ sauce. (Also irritating: the nouveau tradition of some restaurants serving the tea unsweet, with a little jug of simple syrup on the side. Sweet tea isn’t meant to be precious. It is a guzzle drink.)”

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I am, as some of you know, hardcore about sweet tea, so this neatly sums up my position on it.

About this time very year I go through some sort of weird self-evaluation phase, which typically involves looking at various aspects of my life and going, “Oh, dear.”

The thing is, it’s not all that bad right now. I have some various stressful issues hanging around, but doesn’t everyone? There are some larger, long-term issues out there that prey on me to varying degrees depending on where I am in my menstrual cycle, how tired I am, or if I am awake. Again, nothing unique there.

I think this annual summer performance review happens because there’s something raw about the unforgiving and unrelenting sunlight and something sharp and focused about the near-constant buzzing of insects. Occasionally, I’m outside in the hottest part of the day and realize that I am completely transparent and unprotected. This isn’t scary; it’s just sort of interesting. All my good and bad characteristics are laid out before me (in two perfectly straight lines) and I have no choice but to look at them in the bright, hot light.

So, you know, all this is to say that things are okay. They could be better. They could definitely be worse. It is at this point that I remind myself to apply Postel’s Law whenever I can. I will, as per usual, fail to do this adequately, but I continue to try.

(The annual winter performance review happens because winter is bleak and unforgiving and I hate it. Hello, Seasonal Affective Disorder.)

Sir, are you truly oblivious to the fact that your jaguar is the car belching out thick black smoke? Is your rearview mirror a fun house mirror so expertly distorting reality that you cannot see that where your car terminates and where the billowing cloud of death emanates is the same spot?

I think you could be somewhat forgiven for driving said car if there were any indication that you were driving it purposefully to a mechanic to have it serviced, but as you were on the interstate doing about 48mph with your arm casually slung over the passenger’s seat and your chin up and head back in a manner cheerfully reminiscent of Jimmy Stewart out on a Sunday drive, all forgiveness must be withheld.

That’s a big deal if you live around these parts. The cats were so offended by my two-day sickbed stench that I could see them struggle to determine how badly they want to steal my body heat and if it was worth enduring the odor.

And before you ask, let me just say that I haven’t gone to the doctor. I have been experiencing a low-grade fever, persistent headache, congestion, a sore throat, and aches that started in the neck and gradually crept over my whole body. It’s mostly the sore throat and fever that have kept me at home. Nobody likes it when you knowingly bring your contagious self to work. Nobody. Besides, I’d have to be dealing with something much more dramatic and life-threatening to actually get in to see the doctor. If I am going to sit around and feel miserable, I can do so more comfortably at home.

Unfortunately, yesterday–the first day of convalescence–was the day the workers came to chew up the gigantic tree stump that’s been sitting out front not bothering anyone since, oh, March. We’ve clearly come a long way with our tree-rendering technology yet I cannot help but think that chewing away at said stump for hours and hours with a very loud, grinding machine of some sort is somewhat less efficient than watering down the ground around the thing and setting it on fire.

(You know I’m right. Also: FIRE!)

And today they loudly unloaded the various tractors and weed eaters and mowed the grass.

The shower also means I am well enough to manage to actually take said shower, a generally non-strenuous event unless you are overcome with weariness and fever.

I really do feel better this evening.

…where this is possible.

 Okay people. No pushing or crowding. Form a single file line…

We already have one entry from Europe.

You can link to your Sandwich Party posts in the comments of this post or this one or this one. You can add your photos here if you like. We’ll collect them all and put them here eventually.

…

So. Who’s hungry? Besides me, I mean.

Update: My contribution seems more like an art project than a sandwich. Tasty though:

Ingredients: nectarine, cherries, green gage plum, cantaloupe, cilantro and salt and pepper cheddar cheese from Fields of Grace Farm.

You know that phenomenon where you finally see something and then you see it everywhere all the time? That’s happened to me recently with Amateur Radio license plates. I’ve seen three in four days thus far.

The one this morning was more difficult to read but the FIVE antennas sort of indicated I might be right. Still, I needed to know for sure, so I ran him off the road to verify that the tag did, in fact, say Amateur Radio.

Here’s the weird thing: in my previous NASA life, I managed the production of an educational product (a guide or brief or something…it was all print back then) about ham radio because–did you know?–astronauts use it all the time. It’s kind of vital. If I recall correctly, this particular product centered around the Space Shuttle Amateur Radio Experiment (SAREX):

The Space Amateur Radio Experiment, or SAREX, was a long-running program to use amateur radio equipment on board the space shuttle, the Russian Mir space station, and the International Space Station. Students from more than 200 schools exchanged questions and answers with astronauts in orbit. It was also used to conduct communications experiments with amateur radio operators on the ground.

This is all I could fine in a (cursory and frustrating) search on the NASA website. Now there’s the Amateur Radio on International Space Station (ARISS) program, and schools can still apply to communicate with astronauts via ham radio. I honestly think that’s awesome.

And to answer your question, I’m sure the guy I ran off the road is just fine.