Life of Wry

Or… This is so Indefensible. But Go Ahead and Try.

Moments ago, the US Senate voted against the idea of witnesses and documents in Trump’s impeachment trial. Even though a witness with first hand testimony — the thing the republicans said they didn’t have and couldn’t convict without — is available and very willing to share his very important (and of course revealing) perspectives on the story.

On its face, this is just so ugly.  If you know nothing about anything, this factor alone renders the trial a ridiculous sham. Coulda heard from an eyewitness. Wouldn’t. Why? Because John Bolton would offer, as his book manuscript now reveals, incriminating and compelling testimony to support removing the president* from office.

The repubs–backed into a corner by virtue of a rock solid case by the dems that pretty much proves his guilt–say that even if he’s guilty of doing exactly what he is accused of doing, which is now universally accepted (because, duh), these actions are not impeachable. Repubs simply don’t think it’s a high crime…they say now. They think maybe it’s “inartful” and “imperfect” (even if the president thinks his behavior is perfect), but, well..  it’s not IMPEACHABLE bad. (It should be noted that their argument was an ever-shifting one, as they were forced to regroup and alter their talking points as the trial went on and the evidence mounted against their case.) And even if there is a direct witness who can add some info to the story, they don’t want to hear it because 1) they don’t think it adds to the body of evidence they already have (it could); 2) it’d put them in the awkward place of having to support a thug liar of a president (because that surely would be evident); 3) they want to acquit him before the State of the Union in four days so he can crow about his innocence and whine about his victimhood. Those meany dems.

Just. Makes. Me. Sick.

It will be interesting as the days, weeks and months wear on. I’ve dreaded 2020 because of the deeply disgusting 2016 campaign and am certain we’re in for more of the same… likely worse by orders of magnitude. But add what has been unleashed in the president’s acquittal, all that has been undermined and compromised in the realm of co-equal branches of government, checks and balances, executive branch oversight. Oh my god, the dread… it’s palpable in my gut. (Clearly, I let this stuff get to me way too much.) But as I started to say, it will be interesting to see how Senators defend themselves.  Because their actions are, duh, indefensible.

I remember thinking a few months back, and I have to remember this…. Best case: Trump’s guilt is proven, House impeaches, Senate acquits, and the people–angry, betrayed and ready for vengeance–vote out enough Senators that they lose their majority. The dems hold the house, and, with any luck, though I’m doubtful, Trump loses by a landslide. Then, for dessert, faces conviction in so many courts for so many laws broken that he spends the rest of his life humiliated and in prison.

An angry citizen can dream.

Or… wake me up in November.

This being the first month of 2020  (how ’bout that) (hello), I’m getting in a bit under the wire on my sorta New Year’s Resolution to resume blogging. I’m encouraged by Jim’s reaction when, on my way downtown, laptop onboard, he asked, “Where you off to?” and I answered, “I’m going to Cloud Forest to blog.” He reacted just the way you’d hope your husband would — delighted, supportive. And he did that because he knows I’m seriously in the political doldrums and desperately need to change courses here. (Doldrums.. what an understatement.)

We’ll see if I even write about that today.

So here I sit at Cloud Forest, 3:30pm. In an act of defiance, or maybe rather self-preservation, I am forgoing my regular Thursday afternoon postcard group. That’s big for me because if I’m in town, I am there. For the last three years, I have been there. Could probably count on one hand the number of times I did NOT show up if it were humanly possible to do so.

In a probably-too-lengthy email an hour or so ago, and somewhat embarrassingly, I ranted to Kelly — postcard group organizer — who absolutely does not have the time to take care of my fragile nerves (what with the mountain of people, organizations and efforts she coordinates on top of a full time job, and, undoubtedly, the challenge of care-taking her own sanity).  In explaining why I probably wasn’t going to be there today, I used words like demoralized, soul crushing, loss of democracy, power.. and said I wasn’t really sure what my next course of action would be, but that, while I wish I were more savvy and able to better compartmentalize, I was in need of finding a more thoughtful balance between keeping informed/engaged and preserving sanity. A gal’s gotta protect her soul, heart, and sense of inner peace. Methinks.

Because, honest to god, I cried in the shower. I just can’t take this shit.

So I might write more about that later — I’m sure I will — but for now, I want to shift my focus. Just sitting here, listening to some Pink Floyd, a low-fat latte in a huge ceramic mug within reach, and the sun streaming in, I’m already feeling a bit released.

And that’s excellent, right?

Jim suggested I not backfill the first 29 days of January, which of course would be my inclination. Tidy person that I am. Tidy with a New-Year’s-Resolution-to-blog-every-day person that I am. So.. today it is. January 30. The First Day of the Rest of Your Blog.

To that end, this is what happened today.

Lauren and her husband Lucas stopped in Davis for a visit on their way from Mapleton, Oregon to San Diego for a Winter break. We got a decent amount of visiting in during our nearly 24 hours together — a couple walks, a couple meals, and lots of talking.

What’s interesting to me is how bonded I feel to Lauren, even though I’ve only seen her three or four times in the last 50 years. We are largely strangers if you measure our friendship by how much we know of each other’s lives. But given our history and our membership in the Hesse-Osborne-Peterson family triad, the fact our relationship dates back to the 50s — even if it was limited to annual Christmas Eve gatherings — it’s something of a sisterhood. At least I, otherwise sisterless person that I am, find some connection in that.

Unlike my average relationship to folks, there is a safety and unconditional aspect to the bond. And that’s nice.

So..

I’m feeling a little clumsy with the the WordPress software. I trust this will upload… text, photos, and all. And I trust I will get more comfortable with the daily rhythm of posting. No commitments, but this was fun enough.

Also.. impeachment.. what impeachment?