Still On Line for Obama
My favorite post at Seattle for Obama:
Things are interesting at my house -
I'm an old white broad. I fit nicely into the Hillary demographic. I'm also a recovering Hippy. It's a long recovery process. My mind is like a broken Firesign Theater record. I live in a chair because of severe lung disease. I am tethered to an Oxygen tank which makes all my ex-husbands laugh. It seems the tank has done something they could never quite do. Although I can't go outside, the world often comes to my door. Some days it feels like the United Nations in here. There are women that come in to care for me - Linda, a black woman from New Orleans and a Katrina survivor. She's has a beautiful soprano voice and sings in one of those "black churches that everybody's been talking about. She makes a mean Gumbo. Fordowsa, a black woman from Somalia whose mother walked with her five children to a refugee camp in Kenya where she grew up till she moved here. She's Muslim but mostly she's a teenager. She dawdles and daydreams a lot. Robyn comes once a week to give me massage to help my breathing. She's beautiful and bald because of the treatments for breast cancer. She's also studying to become an Orthodox Jew. Christopher takes care of the lawn for me. He's twenty something and gay and learning to be a Buddhist monk. He made a meditation corner in my garden. My friend David comes once a week to bring me communion (I rediscovered my Catholic faith after being diagnosed with a terminal illness - funny how that happens)
We are all Obama supporters.
I need a steady hand with a camera. Oh and did I say that Linda has one terrific soprano voice?
Things are interesting at my house -
I'm an old white broad. I fit nicely into the Hillary demographic. I'm also a recovering Hippy. It's a long recovery process. My mind is like a broken Firesign Theater record. I live in a chair because of severe lung disease. I am tethered to an Oxygen tank which makes all my ex-husbands laugh. It seems the tank has done something they could never quite do. Although I can't go outside, the world often comes to my door. Some days it feels like the United Nations in here. There are women that come in to care for me - Linda, a black woman from New Orleans and a Katrina survivor. She's has a beautiful soprano voice and sings in one of those "black churches that everybody's been talking about. She makes a mean Gumbo. Fordowsa, a black woman from Somalia whose mother walked with her five children to a refugee camp in Kenya where she grew up till she moved here. She's Muslim but mostly she's a teenager. She dawdles and daydreams a lot. Robyn comes once a week to give me massage to help my breathing. She's beautiful and bald because of the treatments for breast cancer. She's also studying to become an Orthodox Jew. Christopher takes care of the lawn for me. He's twenty something and gay and learning to be a Buddhist monk. He made a meditation corner in my garden. My friend David comes once a week to bring me communion (I rediscovered my Catholic faith after being diagnosed with a terminal illness - funny how that happens)
We are all Obama supporters.
I need a steady hand with a camera. Oh and did I say that Linda has one terrific soprano voice?