Hoop Earrings & Doilies

Tuesday was almost a complete write-off. Something was wrong. I could not get out of bed all morning and I couldn’t speak either. My speech was as bad as the day I went into hospital — and I’ve no idea why. But yesterday my doilies arrived! I’m beyond excited. I can finish dress #8.

I spent the afternoon finally finishing the armature for the marble skirt (dress #9). I’ve just to add the part of the bag above the cinch before adding the paper skin.

But today’s agenda is not dressmaking. Today I’m part of a pack of seniors having an adventure.

What would a group of seniors be called? A geezer? A geriatric? An anger? A flaccid? I’ll have to ask the group today when we are having lunch.

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March 2017 was the least sunny March in the history of weather record keeping in BC. It broke the record by eight hours.

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Yes. I’m liberal. Yes, I’m progressive. I’m gay. I have to be. But things are getting out of hand.

Last month, in a campus-wide email, a Latina student at Pitzer College in California protested that white women were wearing hoop earrings.  The writer of the missive claimed that the accessory belongs to Latina culture and is diluted and misrepresented when worn by white women: “If you didn’t create the culture as a coping mechanism for marginalization, take off those hoops…if you try to wear mi cultura when the creators can no longer afford it, take off those hoops.”

Holy shit.

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I can levitate. Honestly I can but I don’t like doing it. I can’t do it on command, it always happens when I am lying down and it only lasts a second.

Maybe you know what I am talking about. Suddenly every muscle in your body contracts and then relaxes and you jolt into the air. They are called Hypnic spasms and they are my latest affliction. They and arm spasms plague me so I am off to see a neurologist, Dr. Johnson, next month.

When I realized I was gay, I adopted Oscar
as my patron saint.