Menus 9 Sept - 15 Sept

AC is coming over for dinner on Saturday for her birthday, so we'll make something special, not quite sure what yet. I'm thinking crêpes aux fruits de mer, aka crepes with seafood/shellfish filling for the fish eaters, and then crêpes au jambon, aka crepes with ham (and usually mushroom, spinach, and cheese) filling for everyone. Still not sure about what kind of cake. Chocolate base, no doubt.

Anyhow...

Monday: Taco torte, recipe from Smitten Kitchen. Meatless.


Tuesday: Chicken sausages, roasted potatoes, carrots, and onions.


Wednesday: Grilled eggplant, sun-dried tomatoes, goat cheeses, on ciabatta rolls.


Thursday: Ramen, pork skewers, hard-boiled eggs, spinach.


Friday: Chicken shawarma, grilled onions, naan.


Saturday: Crêpes, see above. Still in flux.


Sunday: Pancakes, bacon, fruit OR whatever. Because Perry move-in, tentative.



In addition to all this... Sunday is Row for the Cure, which Perry is either coaching or coaching and rowing with a boat of older ladies. And Monday morning he needs to be at practice for Western, a full week before school starts. I suspect we'll move in him in to his new apartment Saturday or Sunday, still haven't figured that out. I'll miss having my lovely boy at home.

And so, I hesitate.

I really really want to text bank from Kamala Harris. Really do. I feel the need to help and do something, especially since the media is ignoring her or only focusing negative. Case in point: she apologized for not correcting someone who used the r-word, completely. She says she did not hear it (and a journalist at the event confirms that this is very possible.) In the meanwhile, Bernie Sanders' use of the n-word in a book -not as "the n-word", but fully spelled out) is being glibly ignored. So she's getting more flack for something she did not SAY vs something he SAID.

So, textbanking feels right now like the minimum I should do.

But.

Note that all this happened 15 years ago, but I'm still pretty scarred by it. I also did not respond appropriately, having hidden it from both my spouse -who at that time in his life didn't need any more stress- and more importantly from the Postal Service.

Long story ahead.

Anyone remember Howard Dean's campaign back in 03-04? Dh and I were early volunteers. Dh did more than I did, because Linnea was still an infant (for example, he ran for and was elected to, the position of precinct committee officer). But we both participated in a few campaign events. The one in question was the letters to undecided voters in Iowa and New Hampshire. We were assured that the letters were going to Democrats.

So wrote I did. I have no idea how many letters, but many dozen. Carefully handwritten, with my fountain pen, and even decent paper.

At first it was fun. I got a few postcards back from a few people. Everything was nice.

And then the first letter came. It pretty much said I was an idiot, who had no idea what I was supporting, that Dean was an evil, con-man, and on and on. Part of it seemed unhinged, part of it was a critique of Dean's policies as governor of Vermont. It was aggressive but not abusive.

I got two more letters from him. Not were sexually abusive, but... well, abusive none the less. Again, calling me a moron, r-word, stuff like that. And long hateful diatribes brought on by my ethnic last time. It was upsetting and frightening, and this guy, obviously, had my address. Which I had given him.

The last part is why I did exactly nothing. I should have told dh, but I didn't want to upset him, and I certainly should have contacted the post office, if not the police. But. I was so aware of the fact that I had brought this all down on myself and I was actually ashamed of the abuse. Not angry. Like at times when I've been sexually harassed, groped, etc, I reacted by being ashamed. That my existence had brought this abuse on proved not that abuse was wrong, but that my existence was wrong.

So I tossed the letters. I remember hiding them in the bottom of the recycling bin, sigh, so dh wouldn't see them.

15 years later, yeah, now I'd react differently. But I'm still afraid of opening myself up to more abuse, ya know? So I hesitate to do something I really know I should do.