Public Option: n. a government-administered health insurance program akin to Medicare, which would be open to anyone regardless of pre-existing conditions, ability to pay,  etc.
Post Office: n. a government-administered service that collects, transports and delivers mail all over the U.S. every day of the week but Sunday.

As far as I’m concerned it is a moral imperative that every American have access to decent health care. Right now tens of millions do not. And tens of millions more have plans with disgraceful health insurance companies who are just waiting to deny them care should they get REALLY sick.

A health care bill that requires a “public option” has passed the House of Representatives, but may well implode in the Senate, where money has flowed in like wine from those dastardly health insurers, big Pharma, physician specialist groups, etc .

Going to a town hall with your congressperson to express your views is no longer a civil civic opportunity because the right-wing crazies are out in screaming force.  So… it’s back to old-fashioned letter-writing.

I particularly like this idea from Peter at the BuddhaDiaries – I’m going to do it and ask you to join me. I copy his post in total:

High Noon, 09/01/09: A Health Care March on Washington — Close to Home

JOIN ME! You’ve been following the news, as I have. NOW WE MUST DO SOMETHING. Here’s my personal intention and commitment. It’s quick easy, clean…. YOU CAN DO IT, TOO!

Step 1: I handwrite a brief letter to my Senators. “Dear Senator …, I voted for you. I have placed my trust in you. I hereby respectfully request that you unequivocally INSIST on the inclusion of a public option or its equivalent in any health care bill that goes to President Obama. Yours truly, (signature.)”

(Find your senators’ addresses here

Step 2: I place my letters in sealed, stamped envelopes, marked in bright, unmistakable letters on the outside: PO/PO (for Public Option/Post Office) in order to identify it as a part of this effort.

Step 3: IMPORTANT! On Tuesday, September 1 at precisely NOON o’clock, I drive, ride or walk to my nearest United States Post Office and silently place my letters in the outgoing mailbox. Suppose I were to find hundreds of like-minded people doing exactly the same thing at exactly the same time? I shake their hands. What about hundreds of thousands, if not millions of good-hearted Americans? We will all come to the US Post Office. We will all place our letters in the outgoing mailbox. We will all shake hands.

What’s so complicated? I promise to do this no matter if I’m the only one in the entire country, but I invite you to join me. With your help in forwarding this email and your commitment to this simple action, we can stage a massive, elegantly simple, nation-wide demonstration that links cities, towns and villages throughout the country. It will require a few minutes of your time, but WE CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

YES, WE CAN! A vast majority of us say we want significant health care reform. Now is the time to back those words up with action that cannot be ignored or dismissed. PLEASE JOIN ME WITH YOUR OWN PERSONAL COMMITMENT! AND FORWARD THIS TO OTHERS WHO WILL JOIN US! Seriously. We will all meet at our US Post Offices all over the country at noon on September 1st.

Peter suggests writing your senators, but I believe it’s important to write your Rep as well, as they can still make or break this legislation. I know that mine, Brian Baird, though a Democrat, is quite capable of weaseling out of a yes vote on the public option.

Palin: n. Alaska’s almost former governor, who giddily and incoherently quit her job last week. (“No more politics as usual!”)

Party: n. that would be the Republican party, the party of the hypocritical Christian right

I hoped never again to have to use the P word that ends -alin. But here we are, confronting that woman from Wasilla.  Frank Rich at the NY Times says:

In the aftermath of her decision to drop out and cash in, Palin’s standing in the G.O.P. actually rose in the USA Today/Gallup poll. No less than 71 percent of Republicans said they would vote for her for president. That overwhelming majority isn’t just the “base” of the Republican Party that liberals and conservatives alike tend to ghettoize as a rump backwater minority. It is the party, or what remains of it in the Barack Obama era.

71% of Republicans would trust this woman to be the CEO of this country???? To keep the economy on an even keel? to negotiate with Iran or North Korea? to resolve the health care crisis? even to bake cupcakes for Piper’s birthday?

That’s why Palin won’t go gently into the good night, much as some Republicans in Washington might wish. She is not just the party’s biggest star and most charismatic television performer; she is its only star and charismatic performer. Most important, she stands for a genuine movement: a dwindling white nonurban America that is aflame with grievances and awash in self-pity as the country hurtles into the 21st century and leaves it behind. Palin gives this movement a major party brand and political plausibility that its open-throated media auxiliary, exemplified by Glenn Beck, cannot. She loves the spotlight, can raise millions of dollars and has no discernible reason to go fishing now except for self-promotional photo ops.

The essence of Palinism is emotional, not ideological. Yes, she is of the religious right, even if she winks literally and figuratively at her own daughter’s flagrant disregard of abstinence and marriage. But family-values politics, now more devalued than the dollar by the philandering of ostentatiously Christian Republican politicians, can only take her so far. The real wave she’s riding is a loud, resonant surge of resentment and victimization that’s larger than issues like abortion and gay civil rights.

And the scary thing is that to the 71% of Republicans who would vote for her, being an uneducated gun-totin’ religious fanatic is a PLUS! Don’t give me facts, give me red meat.   Don’t give me a hand up, give me a pitchfork.

Resentment is toxic, and that’s what Palinistas feed on. I only hope the remaining 29% of relatively sane Republicans can bring a sufficient number of their party buddies around or the GOP is doomed.

Or America is.

President: n. leader of an organization – by election, appointment or personal decision

Peter: n. my old friend Rev. Peter Morales

Just returned from Salt Lake City, where a couple thousand Unitarian Universalists from around the country convened for their/our annual General Assembly or GA. Although the workshops, talks, worship services and meet-greets are always worthwhile, this year I went to pimp for Peter – working on the campaign to elect him president of the Unitarian Universalist Association.

And he won! Decisively – with 58% of the votes. I call him “Pope Peter”.  (“President”  is the closest UUs get to pontiff status.)

A combination of factors that led to his victory, IMHO:

• A clearly articulated platform, with specific goals
• An opponent whose platform was fuzzy and vaguely stated
• A richly varied background of multicultural experience ( including in the business world), world travel, education, success
• Skillful ease with public speaking – without notes
• Personal charm and sense of humor

I was particularly invested in the campaign because it was I who first brought Peter and his family to a UU church in 1994. The exposure took, and the rest is history.

Now the real work begins. Ours is a venerable but TINY denomination, not natively given to evangelism. Either we grow in numbers and presence or watch ourselves become an interesting footnote in American religious and intellectual history.  The budget has been slashed by 20%.  So whatever gets done, must be done with less.

I send him white light…

Pickin’: v. vernacular for harvesting fruits or veggies

Peas: n. heavenly spring legume

The freshest peas ever

My friend Judi is away and asked me to mind her Ps (no Qs).  Last night I walked up there with my little pickin’ basket and minded those Ps right into my basket.

Not as easy as it might seem. It’s hard to judge the pea inside by the fatness of the pod.  I picked about 20 pods that looked and felt right, but when I popped them open, some were still semi-fetal.

“Sorry, babies,” I said to them, feeling like a second trimester abortionist.

Nonetheless, I dropped them all, semi-fetal and mature, into boiling water for about 30 seconds, drained them, added a bit o’ butter, a pinch of sea salt and a grind of pepper ….

OMIGOD.  Like eating sweet green caviar. Their round shapes roll nicely on the tongue and then pop when caught between my upper and lower molars.  Total yum.

Piano:  n. a musical instrument having steel wire strings that sound when struck by felt-covered hammers operated from a keyboard

Paralysis: n. loss of the ability to move;  a state of powerlessness or incapacity to act

Our piano

[Cross-posted from Getting to Less...]

The piano is a dying fixture in the American home.  So claims a recent story in the Los Angeles Times.

105,000 acoustic pianos (upright and grand) were sold in the US in 2000. By 2007 sales had plunged to 54,000.  Given today’s economy, we could be chopping them for firewood in a few years.

People are buying electronic keyboards instead – keyboards that are light, portable, and include attachments that control the furnace, shampoo the carpet,  and flip pancakes.

This is very bad news for me.

I am the keeper of a 1936 Steinway baby grand – a gift from my mother to my son, who is a talented pianist. Maybe I should say was a talented pianist. We refurbished it at great expense and he played the heck out of it from age 11 till he left for college in 2001.

A few months later I bought a too-big home  because it had a living room spacious enough to accommodate his precious piano which he would return to claim any minute.

Right.

First issue: he’s scarcely touched it in eight years, even when he was living at home the last few months.

Second issue: he’s globe-trotting for the forseeable future. A baby grand will not fit in his backpack. And when he returns it will probably not fit in some shoebox bachelor apartment either.

Third issue: my own future cottage/condo/shoebox won’t have space for a piano unless I put a mattress on top of  it and call it my bed.

There’s so much history with this piano. My grandparents bought it for my mom as a college graduation present  ($990 for the piano, $10 for the bench = $1,000 total).  She taught singing for 70 years with it,  playing it so much the brass sustain pedal was worn to a nub.  My two sisters and I  shed tears of frustration on its (real) ivory keys at our daily practice sessions.

After being refurbished and refinished the piano was appraised at $40k.

Needless to say it’s one of the biggest and most emotionally loaded THINGS that must be dealt with in this downsizing process. Not to mention  the deep pain in my heart that my son’s connection to the piano seems to be over.

He and I need to have a little talk about the piano’s future…

Meanwhile here’s more from the LA Times story…

The piano has been the center of many American homes for generations, not only a proclamation of a love of music but also often a statement about striving for success.

“In a very traditional sense, the piano did stand for something. It was a symbol of mobility, moving up,” especially among immigrant families, said Joe Lamond, president of the International Music Products Assn., based in Carlsbad and known as NAMM. Some real estate agents still will move a piano into a house that’s for sale to class it up, he said.

In many homes these days, a piano isn’t so much a musical instrument as it is just another piece of furniture.  ….

In the 21st century, the acoustic piano seems to be a relic of another era. Jeffrey Lavner, a piano teacher at the Colburn School in downtown L.A., puts it this way: “I think piano playing is a little like black-and-white movies.”   [ouch!]

…   Many forces have contributed to the acoustic piano’s troubles. Start with electronic keyboards and digital instruments, with their improving quality and alluring gadgets such as metronomes, USB ports, headphones and recording devices. Not to mention their generally lower price.

“We live in a digital age,” said Brian Majeski, editor of Music Trades magazine. “You have to redefine the instrument.”

And in a time of foreclosures and downsizing, the expense of a traditional piano — which can run from a few thousand dollars to $100,000 or more — may seem untenable, especially for a child who may be eager to play but has no track record in the rigors of daily practice. What’s more, for students, there is ferocious competition for the hours between school and sleep: Homework or video games? Soccer or ballet? Facebook or TV?

In a survey of piano teachers conducted in 2005 for the Piano Manufacturers Assn. International, 89% said that the primary reason a child drops lessons is “too many other activities.” …

Pounding: adj. a beating, as in with fists or sticks

Performance: n. a public presentation

Portland: n. the wonderful city across the Columbia River from where I live

Went to see Portland Taiko Saturday night. Taiko is both a particular kind of large two-ended traditional Japanese drum, and the drumming performance style.

It’s exuberant, energetic, exciting and athletically balletic. The drummers whack away with grand gestures that look like a lot of fun to execute – and like any feelings of distress or aggression they might have harbored before they picked up their long sticks would disperse quickly.

If you’ve never seen a taiko group, here’s an example:

Prop: n. something that holds up or sustains

Pole bean props - with twine

With the help of my ex, I’ve created the necessary support systems for my bean-crop-to-be. Two 7′ pieces of scrap wood and four screws (cost $2.48) are now screwed to my raised bed, and soon the vines will be hauling ass up the strands of twine till they’re way out of my shrimpy reach at harvest time.

My family is famous (in our tiny circle of string bean fans anyway) for our Blue Lake pole beans. My parents grew so many that I swear my mom spent her entire summer slicing them (on the diagonal, if you please) and blanching them for a freezer full.

I’m not big on frozen beans but I make a mean dilly bean.

—–

Other crop prop projects:

My ex and I also encased my four LOADED blueberry bushes in a cage of bird-proof netting. The bushes are about six feet tall and at least that wide. This year I’m going to have to borrow freezer space again because my freezer will be berried out by mid-July.

I’ve encased my tomatoes in cages, which they will overrun within a month. Why do they make them so wimpy?

Finally, my ancient grape arbor is tottering under the weight of an unusually hyperactive vine. I’m going to be inundated come September. Maybe this year I’ll figure out an easier way to make raisins… (wine??). Meanwhile, after hacking back the grasping tendrils, I harvested a bag full of tender grape leaves I’ll try brining.

Petite: adj. French word for small

Palmier: n. a crunchy, buttery, slightly sweet multi-layered French pastry

Deux petites palmiers et un rose

I am addicted to these little pastries.  Although they’re wonderful with coffee, I prefer something more healthful for breakfast. So I have one (two? they’re small…) for a mid-afternoon pick-me-up with a cup of Earl Gray tea.

TJ’s sells them in a box of ten (twelve?), and they stay fresh for at least a week – maybe more – but they don’t last long enough around here to test that hypothesis.  Fortunately for my waistline, TJ’s is all the way on the other side of town, so I only get over there occasionally.

In the regular grocery store I never buy prepared foods because I do a much better, healthier and safer job of cooking from scratch. But I always find myself succumbing to TJs treats.  Have you had their cashews coasted with a spicy Thai lime seasoning??  Their little cookies … like the triple ginger, or the lemon wafers. They have the best canned tuna anywhere (in olive oil). Don’t get me started.

I always leave TJs happy, feeling like I’ve been on a great hunting expedition and scored!  This guy’s illicit TJs video “commercial” pretty much says it all:

Pink: adj. a color blend of  red and white

Peony: n. a flowering plant native to Asia, southern Europe and western North America. Most are herbaceous perennial plants about 3′ tall, but some are woody shrubs up to 6′ tall. They have compound, deeply lobed leaves, and large, often fragrant flowers, ranging from red to white or yellow, which bloom in late spring and early summer. They love it here in the Pacific Northwest.

Yesterday a friend brought me an amazing bouquet of pink peonies from her garden when she came over for lunch. These are peonies with profuse petal and perfume power.

Peony petals

The fragrance from this glorious bouquet perfumes my whole entry area:

From Flossie's garden

Panorama: n a complete or unobstructed view of a wide area

Paradise: n. a place or state of bliss, felicity or delight

Eat your heart out. This is where I was on Saturday:

Columbia River Gorge from Dog Mountain trail

The Dog Mountain trail is one of the very most beloved in all the Gorge – particularly when the wildflowers are at their peak, which was this week.

Everybody and their brother (and some of their dogs and kids too) were on the mountain, but rather than seeming crowded, it was like a jolly meetup. Everyone greeting each other, encouraging each other, sympathizing with each other.  The encouragement and sympathy gush forth because it’s a dog of a hike.  Pretty much unrelentingly UP – like 3000′ in 3 miles.

Slow slogging... only halfway there

Most people use hiking poles (land version of ski poles) to take some of the burden off the thighs and knees, and on the way down to brace you lest you slip on little rocks.

Any excuse to stop is a good excuse. Water, photograph, shoelace adjustment…

Photographing a hillside of balsam root in bloom

It was a glorious sunny day and you could see way down the river both east and west. At the top you could also see Mt. Hood poking up behind the Oregon palisades, Mt. Adams and Mt. Rainier off the back sides of the mountain.

Mt. Rainier, looking north from the top

We got to the top around noon, and joined a happy throng having lunch and savoring the opportunity to sit. Problem was… how to get up again.

About half way down my legs got so shaky I was afraid they’d just give way, so I stopped often to admire the flowers:

Balsam root, lupine, indian paintbrush, snow-in-summer, buttercup

Truly the Gorge is one of the most awesome places in the world, and this hike on this lovely day was something I’ll never forget. My quadriceps won’t either.