fabrisse

The fandoms I've chosen have all given me joy. None of them is light or fluffy. I apparently don't need good special effects to enjoy something either. All of these fandoms are ones that make me think and feel in about equal measure, and I like that sensation.

General nos: Extreme or explicit violence. Rape or Dubcon. A/B/O. AUs unless requested. There are certain acts which just don't turn me on: scat, blood play, golden showers. Any BDSM must be safe, sane, and consensual.

General yeses: Exploration of emotions and the consequences of actions, even if those consequences are negative. I'm fine with explicit slash, het, or threesomes (or moresomes). I like a happy ending -- it's Yuletide; let's celebrate -- but I completely understand if it doesn't make sense within the story. A well-written fic with a sad resolution is better than something jammed in to make it happy.

Yuletide Requests:
The Champions (TV 1968)
Rotherweird (series) -- Andrew Caldecott
Harlequin (1980) aka Dark Forces
The Illusionist
Etoile (TV)

( “Onward” )

Gather 'round, children. As an elder of the tribe, I must remind you of history, and the perspectives it can provide.

https://www.gocomics.com/doonesbury/1973/05/29

The above link goes to what is probably the most famous Doonesbury cartoon of all time. Many papers refused to run it. Many that did run it, put it on the editorial page rather than the comics page. The Washington Post ran an editorial about why it didn't run it. It was controversial because it violated the presumption of innocence for John Mitchell. Many papers cancelled Doonesbury, though most who didn't run it, just skipped that day.

And that was it. It was well known that President Nixon hated Doonesbury and, by extension, Garry Trudeau, but he didn't demand any retribution.

Watergate was a punchline. It was a punchline for Flip Wilson who ran at 8 p.m. on Thursdays. It was a punchline for local radio DJs. It was a punchline for Johnny Carson (who was scathing in some of his monologues). And no one got cancelled, suspended, or disappeared for the jokes, whether good or bad.

When Gerald Ford came into office in late 1974, he said [perhaps slightly paraphrased], "In Washington, we get our news from intelligence briefings, The Washington Post, and Doonesbury -- not necessarily in that order."

It never occurred to me that I would look back on the violent and discordant early 1970s as "the halcyon days." Still, say what you will against Richard Nixon, he believed in the Constitution and he understood all the amendments.

When I lived in Belgium in my late teens, we were thirty years removed from WWII. Belgium had surrendered before any shots were fired on them, something many older Belgians hated, so they were never the battleground as they had been during WWI. In some ways, WWI had a greater impact on the Brussels that I knew.

Having said that, I met one of Dad's Dutch colleagues who had run errands for the Dutch resistance when he was approximately 11-16. He lived through the famine the Germans helped create by eating tulip bulbs as so many of them did. As many of them did, he died in his early 60s of stomach cancer. There's no proof that the bulbs led to the cancer, but it is a specific cluster.

The Baroness who lived downstairs from us was a full grown woman when the war hit. Her husband (he had some form of senile dementia which made him difficult to talk to, mostly because he spoke nine languages and would drift from one to the other.) was the Belgian ambassador to Germany when the war hit. Previously, he'd been the ambassador to Greece and Spain. Greece wasn't accessible. Spain was. She walked with nine children from Belgium to Spain, helped by people she met on the way. One of the children didn't survive it. But that indomitable woman walked with 8 children across the Pyrenees so that her family couldn't be used to make her husband participate in anti-allied propaganda.

The concierge's husband said, in passing, that working with the resistance in Belgium, was much more fun than school for him, shrugging off the contributions he'd made before he turned 18.

The janitor who went to our school was put into hiding by his parents because they were Jewish. Toward the end of the war he helped get food to people being held in the transit camp near him. There was some cutting wires and getting people out, not many, not often. But he found a way to do something with his local resistance. He lost both parents to the camps.

I'm saying this because people are despairing about what's going on in the U.S., worried that there's no grand general organizing us against our current government. Honestly, if you're not part of the military, there is rarely one leader to get behind to walk us, like Moses, to our promised land.

If you want the equivalent to the DeGaulles and the Queen of the Netherlands -- both in exile, both under threat, both putting backbone into their people from that exile -- then listen to Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Bernie Sanders, Pete Buttigieg, and Beto O'Rourke or applaud what Gavin Newsom is doing while recognizing that his stance on our trans friends is terrible.

But most of all remember that Jules, the Baroness, Guillaume, and the school janitor all found small ways to resist, to help prevent worse, to give hope to others during a long war.

Organization is great. Be part of your local Indivisible chapter if there is one (and you have the spoons for it).

But remember that the small things are helpful, too:
A) If you think you see an injustice, record and post it with as much context as you can provide.
B) Write to your Senators and Representatives at both state and federal levels and explain why what they're doing is wrong (or great, if they've done something good. Positive reinforcement won't hurt.).
C) Find out what laws they're trying to pass and be part of the public comments, especially if you think the law is wrong or overreaches governmental rights.
D) Talk to your friends and neighbors about the mid-terms and see if you can strategize to turn out the vote, keep people on the rolls, or protest any laws that might limit voting.
E) Give blood.

The Obituary at the Guardian

He was a great satirist and performer. Apparently, he was a good professor, too. At 97, it's impossible to say that Tom Lehrer was taken from us too soon -- especially since he mostly retired over 60 years ago -- but that doesn't mean that he won't be missed. While he lived, there was always a chance for one more song.

Those of you who've known me since I lived in Boston -- heck, some of you who've only known me since DC -- probably know that I get bronchitis. A lot. The only reason that I haven't been diagnosed with pneumonia since 2005 is because I've had the shots (and boosters) to prevent it.

What I haven't had -- at least according to one of my Boston doctors -- is asthma.

In the past year I've had 5 bouts of bronchitis and one of tonsilitis with coughing. This isn't good. My primary care sent me to a lung specialist and last week I got a lung function test (Google has failed me as to the actual name of the test) to ascertain whether asthma was an issue.

So. The test uses spirography (Google didn't entirely fail me). I blow into a tube. My base lung function is recorded. Then I blow into it four more times after having various levels of a drug that inhibits lung function. If you don't have asthma, you might feel a little light headed, but it won't cut down your ability to blow out into that tube by much.

I did the baseline. I did the minimal level of the drug. Then I did the second of the four levels. The technician stopped the test and said, "I'm not a doctor. I can't diagnose, but I'm pretty sure that you have asthma." She then gave me the albuterol which should help my problem before I have to drive.

Now, I was a bit surprised that they could tell so quickly, but since my eyes had darkened and I felt like I was going to faint for the first time in nearly 30 years, I was just as happy to stop.

The next morning, I had my official diagnostic meeting with the physician's assistant. The first words out of her mouth were, "I've never seen a test like this." I went from full lung function with none of the drug, to about 95% lung function with the first dose of the inhaled drug. On the second round, I dropped to just under 40% lung function. Apparently, the 40% isn't that rare with the fourth round. It's why you're given albuterol to help you breathe before you're allowed to leave. But dropping that far that quickly is rare.

I'm on a drug called Trelegy which tastes bad, can give me mouth thrush, and makes me feel worse. I haven't had a serious cough since March or April, and that wasn't bad enough to go to the doctor. Since I've been on the new drug, I've been coughing like it's an Olympic sport. It's great for my abs, but the rest of me hurts.

I plan to contact the doctor's office tomorrow to find out whether this is normal in the first week or so of taking the drug. But I started this on Friday. It's Sunday, and I feel worse than I have since my last bout of bronchitis.

Keep your fingers crossed.

1. I am so sorry to hear about Brian Wilson's death. I found out about the Beach Boys at summer camp in the 1970s. [You can do the Virginia Reel to Help Me Rhonda.]

2. I am planning to go to my local "No Kings" protest on Saturday. I'm a little peeved that they scheduled it for the heat of the day. SPF 70, a hat, and a soaker scarf are my friends.

3. I went to Richmond, VA with my sister on Thursday. I flew back on Saturday, and she'll drive back today.

The Frida Kahlo exhibit at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts was pretty good. She'll never be my favorite artist, but having a context to frame her work is very helpful.

I had forgotten what a good small city museum the VMFA is. It has a very famous Mary Cassatt, a collection of Faberge objects which includes several Imperial Easter eggs and silver service as well as jewelry, Egyptian Rooms and a nice (small) sample of Roman Art. I fell in love with a Childe Hassam painting that's unlike most of his work.

Sis and her friend, whom she visits yearly, agreed to go out to Perley's for Jewish Deli food. The matzoh ball soup was some of the best I've ever tasted and the potato latkes had an apricot/apple sauce that tasted great with them, plus some scallion sour cream. They also have house made syrups for sodas, and I can attest that the apricot wasn't too sweet and was very refreshing.

Flying home was a bit of an ordeal. My plane took off on time, 4:15 pm and was supposed to land in Atlanta 1.5 hours later. The pilot attempted to land when cleared, but the turbulence was so bad that he had to pull up. I held the hand of the woman next to me to help calm her down. I've been on roller coasters with less dropping.

We went to Augusta to refuel which took two hours because there were other planes ahead of us. Just as we were about to take off, the storm which had inundated Atlanta hit Augusta. It was another hour before it subsided. By the time we landed in Atlanta most of the food court had shut down for the night, so I was very hungry.

Fortunately, my plane to Savannah had been delayed. It was supposed to take off at 8:18. We were finally allowed to board at 11:20.

In Savannah, I had to try 4 taxi companies before I found one who had a driver willing to pick-up at the airport. I got home at 2 a.m. Not my best flight ever.

On our drive from Toulouse to our first hotel, bunny rabbits came running out of a field to our right. There were more than 20. I came to a full stop and just let them keep running to their hutch to our left. It was amazing, and I'm so grateful that I didn't hit one.

neotoma being so patient pushing the car out of parking spaces. Bless.

Every single meal, but especially the confit de canard and iles flottant of our first night.

It's not my favorite Paris land mark, but seeing the Eiffel Tower so closely was amazing.

The feeling of relief I felt when I realized Notre Dame would be fine.

Having hazelnut/chocolate ice cream from Berthillon.

Get complimented on my French.

Getting to use my little bit of Dutch, briefly.

Now, I know I haven't written much about Iceland -- which was starkly beautiful -- but that's because I managed to slip in the bathtub and sprain my ankle badly enough that I couldn't walk around Reykjavik with neotoma. The bruise on the opposite inner thigh is just now fading.

I do want to go back to Reykjavik at some point. It was stunning.

neotoma and I spent 5 May-10 May in France. We also had 11 May in Iceland which neotoma got to see more of than I did. Overall, I think it was a good trip. It was certainly a needed distraction for me from a year which had way too much death in it. neotoma was in a similar boat, so travel seemed like a good thing.

Once I've downloaded my pictures -- I didn't take many -- I'll have a post with them in it. For right now, It's just words.

Our hotel in Paris was clean and conveniently located. We had tickets for a boat tour up the Seine and I invited my friend, Elainasaunt, who lives in Paris to join us. The Paris Metro was as convenient as ever and got us to the Trocadero stop, right by the Eiffel Tower. We were close enough to see the elevator cars do their funicular thing up the leg of the tower where we caught our boat.

After some minor kerfuffle where the boat operators conferred and decided our Expedia purchased tickets were good, we saw Elainasaunt in the distance and got on the boat. We had dressed relatively warmly (I was in a turtleneck that was heavy cotton with about 15% wool content) so chose the top deck. It was a lovely evening, nowhere near sunset and the sights of the city were clear. The music was a little loud, but Elainasaunt kept up a running commentary of what we were seeing. Once I noticed that my fingers were going a bit blue, I asked if we could go in, and the view from the lower deck wasn't as good.

After grabbing our respective metros home, neotoma and I searched for sustenance. There was a little square about a block from the hotel which had several restaurants. Two were very crowded cafes. Two were pizza/pasta joints which just didn't seem right in Paris, and the last one was a small bistro which said they could accommodate us.

neotoma had a pork roulade with mashed potatoes. I had duck confit with roasted potatoes (and the duck was perfect that evening). For dessert, the maitresse (I don't know if she owned the place, but she referred to her chef and her pastry chef, so quite possibly) let us know there was a special of floating island with pistachios. neotoma had never had floating island and it's my favorite dessert. There was only one portion left, but it was more than enough for us to split. It was really delicious.

We also discovered on our walk from the metro that we were pretty close to Notre Dame, so the next day we went. The lines were huge. Too big. The lines for the Sainte Chapelle were also very long. However, there were no lines to speak of for the Memorial des Martyrs de la Deportations. I highly recommend the Wikipedia page which I can't link to because the accent marks mess up the link.

This is part of a small park behind Notre Dame. It honors those, both Jewish and not, who were deported to the work camps in Germany during WWII. It's grey cement with narrow stairways in and out of it. There's one small, barred window low on one wall. Behind is a round room with lists of the camps and quotations, including "Forgive, but never Forget" over the exit door. We went upstairs and explored the two gallery rooms which had pictures, letters, and small mementos of Bergen-Belsen. In all, we spent about an hour there.

We went out to dinner with Elainasaunt again at a small bistrot on the Ile St. Louis, facing the back of Notre Dame. The dinner was very good.

We left Paris early the next morning and went to Toulouse. That saga will be covered tomorrow.

We are supposed to go to la Vallee de la Vezeres tomorrow (Toulouse, then drive north to Lascaux) but there are train strikes. They're supposed to get worse through the week. *le sigh