In times of old, The Furies protected Mother Right. If a mother (or any woman) was harmed, The Furies swooped down and took their vengeance. They were one of the last vestiges of a world that existed before the patriarchy. When we feel righteous anger, it is The Furies who are calling out to us to make what is wrong right again.

Saturday, October 07, 2006

Bu-tee-ful Day 

It's absolutely gorgeous outside. I walked with Mario on his break. The crows were in Nirvana. There are nuts everywhere—hazelnuts and walnuts—so the crows are picking up, flying up, dropping down, and dropping down. You just gotta love crows, don't cha?

Last night (as we were driving to Hood River to see some Dia de los Muertos art) we saw an absolutely stunning Harvest moon rise up between the V of the Gorge. We both gasped when we first saw it. It was the same color as the clouds: a kind of light light barely pink that was almost gray. Exquisite. We pulled over to the side of the highway just to gaze at it.

Today is a perfect autumn day. I am inside. I had our cable turned back on so I could watch baseball. The Tigers are in the division playoffs. The Yankees are playing like amateurs. The Tigers are superb. If they don't blow their lead, they'll go into the playoffs. I'm typing up pages of Ruby's Imagine as I watch.

I grew up listening (and watching) Detroit Tiger baseball. When they were in the 1968 World Series, we watched it in the auditorium in school. In 1984 when they were again in the World Series, Mario and I watched it in Bandon, Oregon. I think I'll always remember Kirk Gibson limping up to the plate in the eighth inning of game 5. Two out. Two on. He faced Goose Gossage. If he didn't hit a homerun, if he hit even a line drive, they'd get him out because he could barely walk, let alone run. He looked at the Goose. The Goose looked at him. And the Goose pitched to him. Gibson swung and hit a home run. Won the series. It was amazing.

In other news...I'm on an anti-inflammatory no gluten diet. Plus I've got me some supplements and I'm taking homeopathic remedies (and undas). And I'm doing all the other stuff. Yesterday I had seventeen needles in me. The most ever in my life. Unfortunately one of my acupuncturists is leaving town. (Did I already mention that?) I'm seeing this as the proverbial umpteenth millionth wakeup call. I'm going to try and keep up with my practice etc. I mean it's not like I drink, do drugs, or eat like shit. But...something still ain't right.

My dreams are fascinating lately. To me. I won't bore you with them. (Not today, at least.)

Mario will be home soon to watch a few minutes of the game with me during his break. Such fun. (When did Johnny Damon cut his hair? No good can come when becoming a Yankee.) Detroit may not get to the World Series but if their only service is to knock out New York then they done good. They were talking about a subway series. Who would care? (Sorry, New Yorkers, but no one would care—except maybe New Yorkers. Okay, you got me there.)

I appreciate all your good words to me about my health. It's a struggle so many of us have. I'm hopeful someday it won't be so much of the focus of my life.

Oh, and yes, I've noticed all the goings-on in Washington. I can root for almost anything that will bring down the neo-cons and this administration, but I do think more important things are happening than the Foley scandal. But it does seem indicative of the hypocrisy of these people that they let this behavior continue for so long. I just hope this doesn't turn into gay bashing.

By the way, I'm keeping the TeeVee until after the elections. I'm looking forward to seeing Keith Olbermann someplace bigger than on my computer screen. Did you hear his latest? I'm surprised he hasn't been fired. I'd almost keep my TV just for him. It's amazing he's still on the air. He is my hero. He called King George what he is: a liar. Go here to read it or hear it.

Bravo, bravo.

Take me out to the ball game... 6 comments

6 Comments:

A perfect day and it was one gorgeous big October moon - went outside and stood under it for a while and it was so luminous that one could hardly look at it. . . . but I did, have to do that full moon thing whenever there is one.

By kerrdelune, at 6:42 PM  

We had an intensely bright full moon here in Hawaii and it made me think of you - as always. Moon shadows were everywhere.

Vicki was driving me to the bus this morning (something redundant about that, eh?) and pointed to a full moon coming up over the Koolaus. Beautiful!

By kevin, at 1:34 PM  

Last night (Tuesday) we went out and the moon was rising up over the Gorge again. This time it wasn't full, but it had a ring around it. It was so gorgeous. Looked like an alligator eye.

By Kim Antieau, at 9:15 AM  

You don't happen to remember the poem about the 1968 series with the arch, or do you?

By rammer, at 7:32 PM  

Sorry! I don't remember a poem like that. Do you know it? I tried googling it but didn't find anything.

By Kim Antieau, at 7:53 PM  

Here's the only poem about the 68 World Series I could find:

WORLD SERIES, 1968

Jim Daniels

My mother's friend Angie from work
knew how much I liked baseball
and gave me the ticket she got
from Vic Wertz, the beer distributor
for the wedding hall her mother ran.
Angie gave me allergy shots every week--
she was beautiful in her white uniform.

I went with her fiancé, who didn't know much
about baseball. I was twelve, caught
between sports and the sexual wake-up call.
Art was his name, and as we sat
in left field box seats, upper deck,
I wished Angie were with me instead.
I bought ginger ale and shivered.
He drank beer and shivered.
The Tigers lost 10-1. Lou Brock's stolen bases.
Bob Gibson's strikeouts. The wind blasted
our faces. He wanted to leave early
but I wouldn't budge. I kept whispering
The World Series, The World Series. . .
but I was still cold.

Sorry for the line spacing. Gotta run!

By kevin, at 8:25 PM  

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