representative steve king (representative of what? western iowa or a "big ball of hate" ?) should be pimping trump this cycle, what with their shared rascist anti-immigration policy.
and now he's set his crosshairs on defending bigots' freedom to exercise their bigotry in the wake of the supreme courts ruling that gay marriage will be recognized nationally. king ass says the ruling "unconstitutionally and indefensibly perverts the defintion of marriage" so he has proposed a resolution that businesses, religious institutions, cities and states and other close-minded like minded bigots should be "encouraged, empowered and protected to exercise their faith without fear of legal or government interference".
how in the world would selling a doughnut to a gay couple hurt the proprietor? if it does isn't that more a perversion of capitalism than marriage? if i'm around for the caucus in february i'm going to propose a resolution about steve king that i hope makes it to the state convention declaring steve king "king ass".
well maybe i should start here instead: a few years ago, about 6 months after we had to put Gus dog down, marty and i and family were willing to explore the idea of visiting the animal rescue league with the intent of bringing home a k9. we met some nice dogs, but the one dog that compelled us to fill out an application and place our name 4th on a waiting list was a big black mastiff puppy with a disposition that i knew was special, he had that thing that je ne sais quoi. so obviously "kobe" was a hot ticket and we witnessed the 1st folks on the waiting list have a meet and greet with "kobe" and their dog and it seemed like the dogs would be fast friends. we went home sans k9.
two or three mornings later marty and i are laying in bed sharing tales from dreamland and my dream involved being chased by a big black dog who could climb ladders and fences. i recall feeling exhilerated and scared running and staying just ahead of this dog when the dog says "you don't have to be afraid of me". i stopped and turned around and said "you can talk?" the dog replied "yes" and then asked me what my name was. I said "nicole, what's your name?" he said "Ace".
later that morning i'm at work and receive a phone call that "kobe" is available, the other homes didn't work out and are we still interested? i called my husband and said "Ace needs a ride home".
he fucking named himself.
so last night as i was drifting off to sleep, Ace came to me again in my dream. he stood in the hallway outside our bedroom and it was dark with a strange moonlight that allowed for my eyes to just make out shapes but not details. i could see that Ace was not alone, Gus was with him. Gus has been dead for three years. i knew in my dream that this was a bit grim reaper-like, and in the dream marty sat up in bed and shielded me from being taken and i awoke crying and saying i'm not ready.
i'm propped up on the couch with 8 pillows configured behind me such that a drain can dangle down my left side capturing fluid collecting behind a footlong scar i received on thursday. say what? why?
because of iowa's first in the nation status all the monkeys running for president spend too much time in iowa wooing iowans. donald trump was one of those monkeys attending an event norte of des moines, it was the freedumb bbq in (sk)ankeny and i got into a westside storyish, greasers vs socs spork spat with donald. i crashed the freedumb bbq dressed as an abortion with trump's hair on top, and he stabbed me with a gold spork he had in his left hand, pointed at me with his right hand and like a 9 year old boy said "no you're the abortion". it was weird.
that is a far better tale than the truth, but the truth is last thursday i had melanoma surgically removed that was "like a cluster of grapes the size of a softball" from what is ground zero on my left flank, yay!
which brings me back to my current state, which is propped up and contemplating my next move which is do i nod off or watch meatballs? both? i feel ok about my current state as it is raining outside and super swampy so i would not be in the garden anyway. but i hope to be able to weed and harvest soon. my cucumbers are starting to come in and it is pickling time god dammit.
you know those people who say "aids was the best thing that ever happened to me" because it made them a better person? i don't know who says that but i sure as shit wouldn't say that about melanoma and me. that should be the title of my memoir, like marley and me but melissa mccarthy plays me instead of aniston in the movie of the book "mel and me".
i knew something was brewing on my side, no way to articulate the knowing and the anxiety that piggybacks the knowing, which is relieved only by a welcome scalpel and a 12 inch scar held together with staples. how to process and articulate that? well i blogged about folding a fitted sheet is how i dealt with it.
now i am tasked with healing and staying ahead of the pain. but what about after? for the past 24 months i've been paralyzed by depression. and depression is such a time sucker. you think pinterest and myface are time suckers? depression by stage 4 melanoma is a time sucker fucker.
but no mas. no. i don't think i'm gonna live forever. so it is important to me to smile and find peace and prepare the fruit i've grown from seed and share it with friends and family and squeeze my dog and kiss my husband and hug my friends and family and make strangers laugh and get finger banged by benicio del toro.
and fold a fitted sheet.
come see me anytime. because it will be impossible for me to see you at my funeral.
