'Course sock knitting tends to lead to fierceness over whatever the object of the moment is, but still!
Fiercely. (stab, wrap, pull, tug firmly) Patriotic. (repeat in other direction)
Small actions yield big results, each one like a stitch in a sock or a hat or a blanket, or a nation that refuses to go backwards.
I am so proud that we have more women in the senate now than we have ever had. We have our first disabled woman, our first openly gay person ever, who happens to be a woman, and our first Asian-American woman. We have Elizabeth Warren, who won despite being a hot headed, loud mouthed, opinionated woman who was out raised and hard fought.
Rape and hatred lost out to reason, just a little bit last night and we did find a way to shut that shit down. Not all of it, by a long shot, but some, and big men lost because people said "Hey, yanno what, that is not ok."
A biracial, moderate man got re-elected for the highest office in the land and a rich, loudly religious, anti-gay, anti-health-care, anti-reproductive rights, radically conservative white man lost.
Think about that for a minute. People didn't have to die to let us have as say in how we wanted this country to be last night. We went and put our marks down, and, by and large, it was recorded accurately and a dark skinned man proved it was not a fluke that he got elected the first time.
That is a miracle right there, my darlings. The man who spent the most money didn't win.
Tiny, small actions, $4 at a time, or $10, or $65 and people yelling on the internet and calling and walking precincts and having family discussions made for national debate with passion and reason. For the first time, more than a few people were doing their research, and earnestly trying to figure out and work on what they believed would be the best thing for all of us.
My guy won, that is an amazing and joyful thing for me today, I will feel more safe tomorrow, knowing he won. But I must say, to all of you, whether or not you voted for my guy.
I'm so proud of us. All of us.
Lookee what we did, we made each other talk, and we made each other think, and we brought new, loud and passionate and knowledgeable voices to the national table. My 11 year old nephew is passionate about politics now, because of us and our willingness to do this noble experiment every four years. I hope he never loses that excitement, and I hope he challenges me to explain my stances, and why I am voting the way I do, every single time it comes up.
Small actions, one at a time, each one a stitch in our national fabric, each one part of what adds to our human potential, each one as important as the others, each one a foundation for the following row.
My sock will be done tonight, or tomorrow and worn with pride and love by my wyfe, who likes fierce, passionate things, like she loves this country she has adopted. Fierce, passionate, made up of small people, no two exactly the same, but all part of one beautiful nation.
My beautiful wyfe and I are just starting the process of working towards a home of our own, something we’ve never been completely sure would happen. We are balancing paying down debt and building credit with trips and saving and paying taxes and regular bills. The trips keep us from going crazy, and if we do it right, help us with her citizenship and establishing good credit.
As a result, we’ve been talking about what we need in a house versus what we want. I have to have a bathroom that works with my damaged body and we both need a big kitchen with reasonably accessible cabinetry and work surfaces. We really need a place that gives me the ability to do physical therapy, even if it just means being close enough to a gym with a pool for me to get there regularly. Or our own pool, which would be better, as I would be in that sucker every day. My particular damage needs water to help me get more mobility.
What we want, is a home. We want a place with dark wood floors and a fireplace, with homemade soft rugs for the animals to sleep on. A place with furniture from a dozen different eras that is useful and beautiful and eclectic.
We want a bright kitchen with as much light as we can get without being able to fry an egg on the floor in the summer, with appliances that won’t eat our limited income up in electricity. We both would rather have big buffet for storage over a standard set of cabinets. We want someplace that is fun to cook in, and easy to clean up with space for a real table and chairs. A dine-in kitchen where dine-in doesn't mean a tiny folding table and french chairs. A famr kitchen, meant to be lived in.
We want a home, with lace curtains and a yard that is a little overgrown but not so much so that we can’t use it. A few raised beds so I can have fresh herbs without pain, fresh tomatoes in the summer and fresh greens in the winter. A yard for dogs to run around like puppies, for visiting kids to find secrets in. Someplace not so huge that we can't keep it, but not so small that it is all concrete and pots.
I want a place to sit comfortably, that won’t hurt my back and will let me put my legs up. Someplace with good lighting and a place to put yarn and fabric and thread and buttons and books on what stirs my creativity. Sturdy bookcases or old buffets with big glass apothecary jars to store my beautiful yarn in, with shelves behind glass to see my fabrics, neatly folded and shelves behind doors to hide the clutter of tools and extra things. Maybe a big corkboard for bits of design and buttons and the like. Someplace where friends and family can come and settle to work on their chosen creations and be cheered by it.
She wants a place to sit, with friends and without, with music and movies and games and books, a fireplace for cheery warmth in the winter and dancing candlelight in the summer. Someplace to be rowdy and cheerful in that will change to a soothing place.
She wants an office, something with drawers and shelves and all the desk space she could ever need, with space for a guest or two to be able to hang out with her as she works, someplace that will energize and invigorate, make working as close to fun as it can be. Actually that sound rather nice for me too, but I doubt I need both an office and a studio space.
We want a place for guests to come, and stay a few days if they like, a restful quiet space with comfortable bed and a chair, someplace they can retreat to when the rest of the house is too rowdy. We both like to watch our movies and shows with vigor and appreciation and we know too many introverts not to want to give them a space to be without all that.
We want a bedroom that is intimate without being cloying, someplace for romance and rest, someplace easy to keep tidy but not fussy.
It is closer than it has ever been and now, now I am homesick for a home I do not have yet, someplace that is ours, that has our touch and our mark on it, someplace for dogs and cats and friends and family, for craft and creativity, growth and rest. A place to cook with just us or with a crowd. Someplace that suits having a Christmas tree decorating party with kids and noise and laughter as well as a quiet dinner with another couple or two with good conversation.
I love my sister’s house, but is not what I would do. I love my mother’s house, but it is not ours.
I want to go home, and it is just over that other hill, just a little bit farther. I’ve never been there but I know it is home.
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