Taking arms against a sea of troubles ...

So, the post-election camping trip was enlightening as well as therapeutic. We had a "no politics" rule. The others talked about work, their volunteer lives, and school. Apparently, everything I do is political. I had very little to talk about.

Still not reading the newspapers, although I am scanning the headlines.

Instead, I'm reading the horoscopes, the comics, and fashion magazines. Uranus is in opposition to Saturn, so hidden tensions in my world are being released from now until mid-June. Garfield still loves lasagna. Winter coats should either be waist-length or cover the entire length of your skirt, but never fall mid-dress. There are people under 40 who will bid $800 at a fundraiser for lunch with the Mayor, and $500 for a flan at a gala/auction.

Who knew any of these things??????? This is the world I've been immersing myself in since November 3, having remained heretofore blissfully ignorant of its existence. ("There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy . . .")

Bought Franco Sarto shoes, then returned them. Threw a fun spa party. Attended three fundraisers, a discussion group, and a housewarming party, and have come to the conclusion that every intelligent, fun-loving, and politically-aware straight guy in Seattle is married, engaged, or otherwise unavailable. (As I have discovered in the past 8 months, the same is refreshingly not true for London, San Francisco, or DC. Perhaps I should take a cue from Hamlet. The nunnery, or Toys in Babeland? In the end it's the same, really. Still a lonely night.)

The third anniversary of the day Dad died is this Thanksgiving. Grandpa is in the hospital after falling down the basement stairs. It's the first Thanksgiving without Grandma. Lovely. It's no wonder I'm reading only the headlines.

Outrageous fortune, indeed.

Looking forward to the weekend in Portland for the official start of the commercial holiday season. Here's a fabulous quote from one of those forwards a friend sent:

"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave

with the intention of arriving safely

in an attractive and well preserved body,

but rather to skid in sideways,

chocolate in one hand,

martini in the other,

body thoroughly used up,
totally worn out and screaming

'WOO HOO... what a ride!' "

I'll drink to that, in answer to Hamlet's question.