Saturday, August 17, 2013


Warm egg yolk dripped onto crispy corned beef hash: Saturday breakfast delight.

When I moved to SF in 1978, I lived collectively with dykes in a railroad flat where we did total income sharing. I got a job frying doughnuts right away and was bringing home $100 a week for four days of hot labour, which was very good pay. Rents were still cheap, and my income going into the kitty helped out flatmates who were not so fortunate in their employment. After we paid bills, bought our shared food, and purchased monthly Fast Passes for each of us, we had $5 each per week as running around money, which we'd distribute to ourselves each Friday.

It doesn't sound like much, but it was plenty. A lot of museums and cultural events were free. Hanging out at the wimmin's bookstore could take hours on a Saturday. Poetry readings were 50 cents to maybe a buck 50 for all day. Arthouse movies were a buck. Wimmin's music events were seldom more than two bucks. And for a treat, I could go to the Artemis and get a great bowl of corn chowder with baguette for $1.50 plus 50 cents tip. I could hear Robin Flower or Trish Nugent or Woody Simmons while eating dinner surrounded by dykes in a space where male conditioning was not coddled.

I think the lesbian cultural push toward collectivism taught me more about class than any amount of academic courses could have. And it set our revolution apart from anything which has followed. We failed, of course, but learned extremely valuable things in that failure. Especially about our conditioning as girls, what to keep and what to relearn. If you don't examine your conditioning by honestly claiming who they had shoved you to be by age six, how on earth can you find and follow an ethical liberation path?


Thursday, August 15, 2013



Scout woke me up around 3-ish by chewing on my face mask. I had to fully rouse to stop her, and when I opened my eyes I saw Margot on the skype screen getting dressed. Was able to turn on the mic and say hello before going back under, Scoutie my chest duvet. Again: Coincidence?

Had upsetting dreams later about playing board games with my brothers (Craig cheated, of course) and discovering a massive black widowish-looking spider in my bedroom which, upon capture under a cup, turned out to be a malignant alien shape shifter who simply lifted the cup with newly-grown tentacles and skittered off behind a bookcase. No Oak in that dream.

Tammi has spoiled Scout unconscionably by holding her in one arm while cooking breakfast and doing other kitchen tasks. Scout is avid and now takes it as her right. When Tammi doesn't pick her up, Scoutie has been leaping onto her back from the nearest counter, twice drawing blood. Tammi is now talking about borrowing a Snugli from her mother...

The AC went on the fritz again, this time needing freon. I had to cancel Monday's PT but we made up for it yesterday in a cool house, with Gil actually arriving on time and my various problem sites healed enough to push into new exercise territory. It was brutal. I was, as M says, knackered afterward, and am sore today. Working HARD.

I have also been surging ahead in fleshing out my family tree. Now have over 12,500 individuals identified. Last night I was greatly entertained by a line living near Memphis where one girl was named Verbel and a later nephew was named Rade Tubal. Can't make up stuff as good as this.


Tuesday, August 13, 2013


Here's the weekly best of what I've gleaned from I Can Has Cheezburger efforts. There are some really creative folks out there.