I feel kind of goofy going here after the deep discussions of yesterday and the talk of God and Church and whatnot.
But the rain is coming down and the pain is rising. I wasn’t going to write at all today but then there was a tornado warning which meant I had to take the kids (they’re dogs but they’re my kids) to the office (it’s a basement, but it’s my office.). And since I was down here I figured I’d write something.
The first thing I had to do was comment over at Tiny Cat Pants. Because if there is ever a discussion about the hotness of Abraham Lincoln*, my input is required. Then I took some pictures of the storm literally blowing over. The sky starts out a deep slate gray and then, seconds later, moves to a blue-streaked whiteish pearl.
Much to the dogs’ chagrin, we are still down here because I’m insisting on finishing a blog post, regardless of how vacuous a post it is. We aren’t talking about much of significance today because I already said my piece on Facebook earlier.
For those of you who don’t read Facebook or who want me to say something more than “and then I went here…”, the point I made was that
Fear is not a motivator for my vote. I do not owe my vote to a political party. No, the important thing to me is not “to beat Obama” and therefore toss my vote behind whichever candidate has the most likely chance of doing so. For too long Americans have been hornswaggled into voting this way. I believe firmly that’s part of why fewer and fewer vote each time out. A person’s vote is their voice. Every one has the right to say with her voice that “this is what I want leadership to look like. These ideas most closely resemble my ideas and that is why I chose this man or woman.” You’ll not get me to band together, squirming and bullied into acquiescing to the “most appealing” candidate of the larger party. In this particular case, Mitt Romney is far too close to Obama policy-wise anyway. So “beating Obama” with Romney is like trading Liver and Onions for Haggis. It’s all gross.
Anyway….it’s the kind of day during which one wants to build a fire in the fire place. But I used my last Duraflame** a week ago and don’t have the wherewithal to bring in an armload of felled wood. We do have one of those switches in the floor that turns on a gas line in our fireplace and I could light that but my spouse doesn’t like the idea of maybe there being a clog in the line and everything blowing up. Also, that’s less “sitting around a fire reading” and more “pretending we’re sitting around a fire but it’s really just a big ol’ gas burner.”
And I know it’s natural gas, not propane. But I went for the funny instead of the accurate.
*If you’re new here you probably don’t know that I have a lifelong crush on our deceased 16th president. I even married a man who liked like him. On purpose. That is I married him on purpose. His resemblance to Lincoln is quite coincidental on his part. Except for that time he grew a beard.
**without conking any noggins, Jess. :)