I was born during the last laps of the Indy 500, back in the 1960s. I’m not sure if it affected me.
I only remember it when I notice the race, (I see that it was just run) and then I mostly think about how one of the other dads in the waiting room stole my dad’s radio when he went in to meet me. That’s really low. It stuck with me as the kind of shithead thing that some people will do. Also, waiting rooms. Can you believe that most men had basically no idea what their wives endured to bear their children? I mean, they might hear some screams, but they didn’t really know.
Like anyone, I have a variety of protective gear, including a bike helmet, a magical horn (you laugh, but you shouldn’t) and a vintage Boy Scout Belt given to me by Jean Power (which gives it extra zing). I posted this photo of me wearing the belt at Spacefest (to protect me from Space Pirates) on Facebook today and humorously someone said that they thought I could really do better, considering what a nice skirt I was wearing.
It’s good to know that having free will, I can wear whatever goddamn belt I want. Anyway, this is a great belt. It has metal rings (with sturdy clips) and a smart little buckle. I wore it not only for protection, but to celebrate the organization voting to allow gay boys to join. It’s sad that it had to be 2013 before they made it that far, and they probably don’t really even mean it, but hey. It looks like progress, and that’s something good. Now can we let girls play baseball? (Only if they can make the team, of course.)
Also, there is another milestone: the pool has reached 80F.
In other good news, the honeysuckle by the bedroom is finally filling in the North Cat Lurk sufficiently so that it’s actually worth lurking in. I never make a new trellis or garden space without trying to include places for lizards to run from chasing cats, and cats to hide from me or a coyote.
Fish likes to molder in there for hours (or some other “invisible” location) and then jump out at me. She does it cartoon style, with all four feet down and her back arched. Or sometimes, she just reaches out a paw and bats at me, then stealthily withdraws it so that I have no idea where it came from.
God, I love her.
At Spacefest this morning I saw Bill Hartmann (you might already be a fan, if you’ve admired any of the space art at the Ranch) and that’s Dan Durda, all-around great guy, next to him.
I love the live art demos- its’s so cool to see people PAINTING.
This morning was also the Apollo panel, moderated by Andy Chaikin and stuffed with elderly Apollonauts, telling stories and answering questions. I wish we still had a manned space program. I can’t get away from the idea that a lot of the Space Pirates tell the same story- they wanted to be astronauts, but (fill in the blank) and so now they are wannabe Harvesters instead.
We lose more than we can note on charts when we lose things like a space program, a playground, a library, a museum.
Rick Tumlinson, who really pissed me off last night (I will write a withering review of his talk, his philosophy and his intentions later, I promise) did in fact say something so simple and true it stopped me in my tracks, and it was this: that the only reason that there are a bunch of yahoos out there who don’t believe we landed on the Moon is because we aren’t there now.
Because if we could do it, then we would do it.