I’m honored that you’re reading my post. But, first, are you registered to vote? The election this November promises to be one of the most important in American history. You must register to vote. Please do it now. Thank you!
Also, please share this video wherever you think it may do some good, especially on your social media posts:
And, you know, there’s a lot you can do in addition to voting. You can get involved right now; I spent a few hours today working the button-making-machine (fun!) with some local Dems so that we have buttons to hand out at the county fair and local farmers’ markets. This weekend, I’m going to be hand-addressing envelopes to local Democrats. And, there’s a big push to get people to volunteer on The Last Weekend before the Nov. 6, 2018 election (that’s Saturday, November 3rd, and Sunday, November 4th; block it off on your calendar now).
Hey, even if all you can do is contact your local Dem committee and tell them you have a spare couch for a volunteer the weekend before the election, do it. Whatever happens on Nov. 6th, you’ll know you did what you could do.
G/Son is growing up fast, heading into puberty and middle school. My lovely DiL posted a video the other day of G/Son, when he was two or three, diving into his Eostara basket. At one point, he exclaimed, “Oh, this is just a feast of candy!” “Feast” was a special word for him; he learned the word “feast” from the wonderful Redwall series of cartoons . If you have young children, Redwall can be huge fun. Slightly older children may enjoy the books , especially as each one usually has a puzzle that readers must solve. (One caveat: the books suffer from a trait of their time . The heroes are quintissentially Church of England and the villains tend to sound, well, colonial. I didn’t let that stop me from introducing G/Son to these wonderful works; we just discussed the problem, why it happened, and how the author could have fixed it.) Now that he’s such a big boy, G/Son’s reading lots of sports info and a book entitled Slave Dancer. What are your youngsters reading this Summer? What was the best Summer book you ever read?
While the mainstream media keeps going out to diners and bars in Trumpland and finding out that, lo and behold, Trump’s voters still support Trump (this is how cults work ), hundreds and hundreds of people have been showing up with almost no notice, night after night in the DC heat, to protest Trump’s treason. They’ve been making noise. A few nights ago, the actress Alyssa Milano and lawyer Michael Avenatti (yes, he’s running; I’ve spent my life with these men; I know what I know) spoke. Last night, they had mariachi bands playing. There are plans for bagpipes, and auctioneers, and puppets. That goes unreported in the mainstream media. And, even farther below the surface, are the women volunteers doing the serious work to get Democrats elected. All of the volunteers making buttons today were women. Women were prepping one of our very local candidates for a podcast, signing up other women to be at the local farmers’ market, and serving as local precinct captains. My BFF will be walking Leesburg in the rain this weekend to dump Bump-Stock-Barbara Comstock, even though my BFF lives in a safely-blue district. It’s OK with me if they ignore us; that way, it will be an even bigger surprise in November.
Of course, there will be some guy there, ready to demand the credit.
How’s your daily practice? When do you do it? I almost always do mine after breakfast, a second cup of coffee cradled in my hands. Recently, my own practice has become streamlined, with a major emphasis on coming into right relationship with the Powers, and Spirits, and Beings of This Place. I’ve been invoking, inter alia, the rivers of my State and, using my State flag Have you ever tried this? What’s involved in your daily practice? Guard the mysteries; constantly reveal them.
Trickster Feminism: someone review this book for me.
Picture found here.
Breathes There the Man
~ Sir Walter Scott
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd,
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.
II
O Caledonia! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child!
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band,
That knits me to thy rugged strand!
Still as I view each well-known scene,
Think what is now, and what hath been,
Seems as, to me of all bereft,
Sole friends thy woods and streams were left;
And thus I love them better still,
Even in extremity of ill.
By Yarrow's streams still let me stray,
Though none should guide my feeble way;
Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break,
Although it chill my wither'd cheek;
Still lay my head by Teviot Stone,
Though there, forgotten and alone,
The Bard may draw his parting groan.
Picture found 
