Podiatrist came and gave me new instructions: I'm to soak Pat's feet in salted water, dry them with my hair, then wrap gauze around his infected toe. Okay, one of those directions is bogus.
Aside from that riveting news, all is bumping along normally ("the new normal," as we say in Wellspouse). It was a gorgeous, spring-like day, but I was in most of the time.
Called Jean C., the lady to whom I bring the library books, and made a date to stop in on Tuesday. Will get her some books first.
Enjoyed a web call from Mike and adorable Vivian. Incredibly, Violet is walking--at seven months! Mike holds on to her hands, but he doesn't just move her around--it's clear she's actually walking herself. Loved to see her laugh and coo--what a sweetie-pie.
Wider: The Press of Atlantic City reported on Obama's speech yesterday, and published a rundown on the proposed budget. Health and Human Services, for one, would receive 78.7 billion; Education 46.7, transportation 72.5. The largest piece was for Social Security: 695 billion. Next was the chunk for the Department of Death and Destruction: 533.7 billion. (Of course, politicians, being good little Orwellians, now call that department "Defense.")
What do you want to bet the pundits will sooner or later deplore SS spending as ruinously expensive and speeding the economy's rush to oblivion? And what will you bet the silence will be deafening about the "Defense" budget?
Yep, in Washington, there's a much bigger priority on slaughtering children than on supporting older people.
Later: Am back from Weight Watchers. Up .2, which translates into roughly 3 ounces, certainly inconsequential, but combined with the .8 rise last week, that means a current weight of 129. I'm still at a total loss of 70.6, but would definitely like to get back to 125. (Am I obsessive? Yes, but I have to be. Paraphrase: think of me as Scarlett when she clutched the carrots and vowed to heaven: "I'll never be tubby again!").

Same old, lame old, tame old stuff yesterday. Getting SO tired of winter, although it was fairly mild and sunny yesterday. Pat's been getting up earlier, around 10:30 lately. That means I'm not free to go out except before that or after about 2:00, and then I usually don't want to. Okay, I'll quit whining.
Nephew Steve J. e-mailed me an enthralling paper entitled "The Kallikak Family: A Study in the Heredity of Feeble-Mindedness," by the director of the "Research Laboratory of the Training School at Vineland, New Jersey, for Feeble-Minded Girls and Boys." I read some of it and printed it all out to peruse at my leisure. It's funny and sad, but also very interesting. I'm of the mind that heredity is too often overlooked or discounted by non-medical people, especially when it comes to intelligence and personal characteristics. After all, if height, color of hair, and so on, are generally accepted as genetic, why not one's ability to make friends? Or write legibly? Or mumble? Or tendency to aggression? Or whatever?
In fact, Steve and his friend in L.A. have written a horror film about the family; hope it gets picked up by a movie studio or T.V. producer.
Wider: An obvious--and ominous--truth by Justin Raimondo, at Anti-War.Com, in his "The Silence of the Liberals":
"Antiwar voters who cast their ballots for Obama have succeeded in rolling the stone all the way up a rather steep hill, only to see it fall down the other side – and we are right back where we started. The next hill is called Afghanistan, and beyond that is yet another: Pakistan."
And More: Ever hear of Diego Garcia? Neither had I until I read this:
http://www.fpif.org/fpiftxt/5120
It's not a person, but an island--and just another comma in our great saga of imperialism.

Last session of our Monologue Workshop was last night. I know I did well in my presentation, as I was assured by the director and others. In fact, all five participants improved greatly. I'm looking forward to participating in the Tuckerton Seaport presentation in April--assuming, of course, that my life circumstances allow it. In my next life, I want to come back as an actress.
Frank Next Door stayed here with Pat and they watched a hockey game together. I wonder what it's like to be able to simply go somewhere without forethought and preparation.
In the morning, I dropped donations off at the thrift store and got a few things at B.J.'s.--Pat still asleep when I got home.
Wider: Chris Floyd, at "Empire Burlesque" comments in his usual intelligent style on what many hopefuls believe is Obama's promise to withdraw troops in Iraq--while leaving 50,000 there for various, trumped up reasons. In fact, Floyd believes he lies and points out that his expressed intention...
:...entrenches the United States more and more deeply in a "counter-insurgency" war on behalf of whichever clique or faction of sectarian parties in Iraq is the most effective in adhering to America's dominationist agenda in the region. It sends an apparently endless stream of American troops to die -- and, in even greater numbers, to kill -- in a criminal action that has helped bankrupt our own country while sending waves of violent instability and extremism around the world. It will further enfilth a cesspool of corruption and war profiteering that has already reached staggering, world-historical proportions."
But gee, Floyd is such a cynic! He should quit all the whining about political lies and treachery. We know the Dear Leader was the anti-war candidate; that's why so many voted for him. So he's gotta be the anti-war president, right? Stands to reason.
Now leave me alone and let me go back to sleep.

"Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn..."
Those exquisite lines are from "Ode To A Nightingale," by John Keats. What poignancy is contained in the three words, "sick for home!" Aren't we all sometimes sick for home after we reach adulthood?
Okay, this is a little diversion. I love poetry, especially the three Williams: Shakespeare, Blake and Butler Yeats, plus, of course, Emily. I like Tennyson ("Nature red in tooth and claw") and Housman ("I cheer a dead man's sweetheart/Never ask me whose"), and lots of others. Strangely, Whitman usually leaves me cold, although I have a sneaking fondness for Elizabeth Barrett Browning and her hubby.
This was brought on by the facts that 1. I'm trying to find the origin of "Alone and afraid in a world I never made," a perfect, it seems to me, depiction of the present state of so many Americans; and 2. Nothing went on around here yesterday of the slightest interest to anyone.
Wider: Note this gem from Obama's speech last night:
"The eyes of all people in all nations are once again upon us — watching to see what we do with this moment, waiting for us to lead.”
Since when?! This is a perfect example of the incredible arrogance of our "leaders"--the certain, absolutely assured idea, rooted in sanctimonious concrete, that we were designated (by God, I assume) to lead the world. Therefore, whatever we do is for the world's own good, no matter if we murder their children, raze their cities, and make their lives hell.
Talk about exceptionalism--nobody can touch us in that arena.

Nothing much going on. Went out to do chores in the afternoon, stayed in rest of day. Continued to enjoy Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. It's remarkable--and demoralizing--how our food has changed in my lifetime, thanks to Corporate America and its insatiable appitite for profits. Everybody can tell the difference between sweet, juicy, homegrown tomatoes and the hard red balls sold in the supermarket, but, as Kingsolving points out, this difference is evident in a lot of other vegetables, too. I think it's even relevant to desserts. I don't make cakes often, but when I do, they're from scratch; same with pies and various other desserts: apple crisp, rice and bread puddings, and so on. It's sad to realize that some children have never tasted "real veggies," homemade baked goods, or hamburgers that aren't flat, dry, "pre-formed" disks.
Wider: From today's NYTIMES, in an article about U.S. aid to Gaza. Here it's explained that the present administration, like the last, will funnel the dough through other than governmental organizations:
"The United States considers Hamas a terrorist organization, and the Bush administration refused to have any formal dealings with the group."
This must belong in the Beyond Belief Department. Doesn't our entire imperialist rationale rest on instilling democracy and free elections in other countries (whether they want it or not)? Wasn't Hamas democratically elected? Doesn't the sun come up in the...
Oh, quit being such a nit-picker, Mimi.

After our walk, I didn't venture out of the house all day. It was a grey day anyway (you could make a song out of that!) and I did the usual chores. After Pat was up, breakfasted, and dressed, I actually sat on the couch with a book--unusual for me during the day. I'm simutaneously reading John Adams, a bio of Gene Kelly, and the book Susan's daughter lent me, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, by Barbara Kingsolver. The last is similar to the Michael Pollan books I like so much and I'm enjoying it.
Chatted with sister Betty in the morning and "visited" daughter Ellen after dinner. Was pleased to see Tillie's feeding tube is out and she's back to her perky former self.

Managed to get to Manahawkin early and go to WW, pick up my prescription sunglasses, get groceries, and duplicate the pictures of Pat's family my SIL sent. Will send to all four children. Other than that, domestic chores were the order of the day.
I continue to hone my monologue for the Acting Workshop. Decided to emphasize the idea of poor "Maurya" going from rage against fate, to deep sorrow, to helpless resignation after losing six sons to the sea. Hope this is what Desi had in mind in his direction--he purposely wasn't too clear and wanted me to work it out on my own.
Wider: An essay worth reading by C.J. Maloney appears in Lew Rockwell.Com. It's called "Grasping At Flotsam" and starts with this gem:
"Despite never having been much for political participation of any sort, there I was this past presidential Election Day, accompanied by my wife, throwing my vote down a Third Party’s hopeless maw. In my mind, voting is to politics as pro-wrestling is to sports: an amusing farce, enlivened with empty boasts and the occasional skull-cracking chair."
Love that phrase about throwing your vote down the "hopeless maw" of a third party. It's just what I did, too, after the Biden selection. That was more than a clue, it meant the game was up and we could all just forget the anti-war dream. How "liberals" can continue to blindly believe in O. is beyond me.