Rage-mute so writing: SCOTUS and abortion

After many years of sitting daily in a beautiful chair that is really meant to be a rarely-used accent, I finally purchased a proper desk chair for my office. Though proper, it’s very chic. All green boucle and bowtie lines and midcentury lovely. Because I’m middle-aged, I also put a stylish lumbar pillow on it. I’m very pleased. (I am not pleased that I just had to zoom my screen to 110%, but whatever.)

I share this because I’ve been sitting in said chair for hours now, propped against said pillow, sputtering with fury that is so frothy and incandescent that when I placed fingertips to keyboard, I went blank for a moment and had to ground myself by taking a deep breath and focusing on something simple, physical, and present.

Alito’s draft opinion arguing for Roe v Wade to be overturned is a gut punch that we all knew was coming. Its arrival (via leak!) makes a hideous theoretical an even more hideous reality. Every friend I’ve spoken to today is a roiling cauldron of revulsion, rage, and “I told you so, Susan Fucking Collins.”

As you may have seen, old Susan today has expressed concern that “If this leaked draft opinion is the final decision…it would be completely inconsistent with what Justice Gorsuch and Justice Kavanaugh said in their hearings and in our meetings in my office.” Lisa M also expressed shock at being misled: “My confidence in the court has been rocked.”

I’m no politician or seer, but I and everyone I know knew that Gorsuch, Calendars, and Handmaid wouldn’t give two holy crucifixes about stare decisis when it came to Roe. Nor will they when it comes to overturning gay marriage (made law in Obergefell) and all other standing rights that don’t map with their extremist white, Catholic/Christian, heteronormative worldview. In short, they lied, under oath, during their confirmations. (Also, did Susan or Lisa or anyone in their party say anything when Droopy Dog McConnell stole the SCOTUS seat from Garland during Obama’s tenure? They did not.)

Alito’s opinion says that states can criminalize abortion with NO exemption for rape or incest. And because so many lawmakers and politicians appear wholly or willfully ignorant about basic science, some want there to not even be exemptions for the health or life of the mother. Observe what this terrifying fool from Oklahoma: said just last week:

"A child who is, in fact, living out part of his or her early life as an ectopic pregnancy is still a unique human being with its own DNA. I don't understand why we allow those children to be murdered."
—Okla Sen. Warren Hamilton (R-Ignorance)

Ectopic pregnancies are NEVER viable and without intervention, they will rupture and KILL the woman.

What this all means is forced pregnancy and forced birth. Can you imagine if your father raped your sister and she HAD to carry and give birth to that baby?

Just one day after Warren Hamilton opined about murdering ectopic fetuses, Ohio state rep, Jean Schmidt (R-Gilead), in response to a Democratic colleague’s hypothetical about a 13-year-old rape victim, said:

“It is a shame that it happens, but there’s an opportunity for that woman, no matter how young or old she is, to make a determination about what she’s going to do to help that life be a productive human being.”

That is sick and perverse beyond compare.

If Roe is overturned, the 13 states with trigger laws banning abortion will immediately put those into effect. Literally overnight, what was a legal right becomes an illegal crime. Five other states will revert to the bans they had in place pre-Roe. Those 18 states do not include Georgia, South Carolina, Florida, or Ohio, all of which will almost certainly institute similarly draconian laws stripping women of reproductive rights. The Guttmacher Institute believes that Montana, Nebraska, and Indiana will join the right-wing flank, and at that point, a full HALF of the United States will, essentially, be Gilead.

The governors of California and New York have already asserted that they will remain safe havens for abortion providers and those who need their services. But what happens if the Republicans manage to pass a national abortion ban? Without a constitutional guarantee that states can write and enforce their own laws—like the one we thought we had via Roe and the right to privacy—nowhere will be safe.

What the Republicans are resigning women to, in particular poor women and women of color, is evil and cruel. It is unconscionable. It’s not like America does a great job of feeding, educating, or caring for most kids anyway. We have the highest maternal mortality rate of any developed country, we do not offer much or any paid maternity and paternity leave. We don’t have universally affordable quality childcare. We use prisons as mental health holding pens for entirely too many suffering people. The healthcare system is, by and large, a mess. Does any of that sound pro-life to you? It’s not. It is disgraceful.

The Republicans and a really gross number of Christians have spent decades putting an overturn of Roe into place. Why do you think they’ve been gutting voting rights so deeply?

I really don’t feel much hope for American democracy. I hope I’m wrong, but I just don’t see much evidence to the contrary. Off to the Supreme Court to protest. Use your voices, y’all.

Almost 46

When you read this tomorrow, I’ll be celebrating #46. My wish was to spend my birthday in West Virginia gardening for no less than 72 hours. Having started yesterday afternoon, I am well on pace. My feet are sore, my cuticles mustn’t be seen by anyone, I have various blisters and bruises and chapped lips, but I couldn’t be happier. Life feels simple. The work feels meaningful, an investment in future seasons and faith in nature and soil and the always march towards life.

I can hear the goat babies calling from some pasture. They got their two-month vaccines today and were absolute weenies about those, but I held each one close and kissed their barny-smelling necks and tried not to get a horn to the cheek. The vet and I scheduled Clyde’s castration for late May. No need for him to hump his sisters or cousin, y’all. I suspect that Rambo, our other castrated male, will be glad for a compatriot.

Oliver and his friends have taken great interest in this castration, perhaps for obvious reasons. Ol, Zaid, and Harold began discussing said surgery in February, and just a week ago, I again overhead them arguing the merits of banding versus surgical testicular removal. The surgery is quicker but risks infection during recovery; the banding is an uncomfortable 4+ weeks after which Clyde’s then-leathery-prunes just fall off in the field. Zaid is particularly horrified by the balls-in-the-field option. Oliver vacillates. I’m not sure about Harold. I have scheduled surgery.

Beverly is the friendliest of the kids. She would be held and petted all day if you wanted to offer her such. Clyde wants to be brave, but so far he can only comfortably let me scratch his head, which he kindly bows towards me when he’s feeling courageous. Skipper and Millie must be tackled stealthily from behind if you want any 1-1 with them. They are all precious, soft bits of magic jumping sideways down hills, atop any available stump or bench, and even, today, into the boys’ saucer swing.

Apple and her daughter, Beverly

Clyde is so handsome

Right now, I have a chicken pot pie from the farmers market in the oven, and two stunning woodpeckers are pecking at a suet slab. It is windy, windy, and the wind chimes are caroling. I am feeling my hours in the garden, and I am thinking of my mom and sister, aunt Renee, Nanny, and her mother and sister, all of whom love the land like I do, all of whom were and are strong women and gifted gardeners, all of whom inspire me as I turn and till and plow and plant.

You simply cannot beat the colors of spring, particularly the greens. One may think the largest Crayola box overwrought, but when you pay attention to spring, you appreciate the effort of providing as many accurate crayons as possible to try and do the spectrum justice. Ages ago, in anticipation of this birthday-in-the-garden plan, I’d placed orders from Rare Roots, Prairie Nursery, and Eden Brothers (my favorite online nurseries). All arrived on schedule this week and I came to WV awash in native perennials: lupine, penstemon, false indigo, liatris, various monardas (aka bee balm), anemones, and on and on. I did also order some annuals; despite my preference for things that simply return reliably, I could not find a summer complete without zinnias, cosmos, dahlias, and cornflowers. They are all such happy flowers, and even though dahlias are annoyingly high maintenance, they’re worth it in spades.

Today, I also thought of my dad, also an avid gardener. He and I are alike in many ways, and our willingness to pay attention and time to the minuscule in a yard is, perhaps, one of our greatest commonalities. He will hand-weed a one square foot spot for hours. HOURS. So will I. I was hellbent on making a pea-gravel walking circle today, and while I could have bought bags of gravel, West Virginia is completely made of rock. So, if I’m patient enough to sift through the “dirt” for bits of stone, I have all the pea gravel I need. This is, perhaps, one reason I am so damn tired today. Picking through “dirt” for tiny crumbs sounds downright North Korean, for pete’s sakes. I confess to enjoying it for at least five hours today, and no, I don’t know what that says about me. I don’t really care.

The thing about life is that if you pay attention, you come to deeply know yourself and what you want and absolutely don’t want or care about. I may absolutely get my nose pierced in the next two weeks because I have always wanted a little nostril stud, and although I know my parents will be horrified (and probably my kids, too), I feel like I’m probably halfway through my life, so really, who cares? I can always take it out. Also, I’m studying Ukrainian. Who cares if relatively few speak it and the alphabet looks utterly unknowable? The Ukrainian people are incredible fighters, they love their animals, and they are just so boss. I mean, did you read about this woman? I could not in any way find success with Swedish or Irish, but Ukrainian is beautiful and largely pronounceable, and the letters are like delightful brain-teaser doodles, and I’m not going to let Д or Ж or ф or even Ю do anything but make me happy. Slava Ukraini!

Another thing about life is that if you pay attention, you realize it’s really short for too many people. People who could be you on any given day. So, live it. Live your life. America is well on its way to becoming a psychotic, anti-woman Christian theocracy, so I’m gonna pierce my nose now, exhaust myself via perennials, keep sending money to Ukraine, and also give a ride to safe healthcare to any woman who wants it. #reprorightsundergroundrailroad

I am now full from chicken pot pie, and my god am I sore. Tom and the boys regularly note that I overdo it in the yard, but there is infinity more space out here than at home, and not one thing served as obstacle today, so really, I did overdo it. But that’s ok. The mark of a great day outside is when you blow your nose and dirt comes out, or when you take off your boots and socks and your feet are brown with earth. Both happened tonight.

I’m soon to be 46 and my double daffodils are spectacular, the baby goats are precious beyond compare and I hid a box of Samoas in a cabinet several months ago and they are calling to me. Life can be so hard. It can really break your heart sometimes. So, live it. Channel the elders and fly your flag and be kind.

PS at a much later time: Based on a review of my calls, I seem, this morning, to have confidently ordered a shit ton of mulch for delivery tomorrow. Hahahahahahaha!

The babies are here!!!!

I have been consumed by the situation in Ukraine, and while I do plan to write about that at some time, right now I must share the happiest news.

Late on Thursday afternoon, Jemima had triplets and Apple had a single. Amazingly, they gave birth within hours of each other, and both did so without assistance or any real to do. You GO, ladies! We found out because Tom was watching the goat cameras he’s set up in the barn. “Em, Em, the babies are here!” (Later, in trying to figure out the time of birth, we came across actual footage from one camera- so cool!).

Concerned about them -would they be warm, were they nursing?- Tom hauled arse to WV that very night. Ol and I headed over after school on Friday. And there we found the most darling little creatures, all bright-eyed, clean, and walking though just a day old. Three girls and a boy.

Four kids means each of us got to name one. Tom named the boy Clyde because he has white feet like Clydesdales; I named Apple’s daughter, a little blond nugget, Beverly; Ol chose Skipper for his girl (which turned out to be a perfect name because she does skip all about); and Jack chose Millie. Millie is chocolate brown with a glossy coat and the most darling bent ears, somewhat like a Scottish Fold. They are all absolutely perfect, and by the time I left today, all were bouncing and running around in full baby goat spirit. Apple is an excellent mama. Jemima seems slightly less patient, but the woman did have three kids and she only has two teats, so…

Enjoy.

newborn Millie sleeping in a blanket

Em and Millie

Ol and Skipper

Skipper and Clyde. That ear.

Beverly investigates Jinx.

attentive Apple and daughter Beverly

Skipper

Millie

Em with Jinx, Skipper, and Clyde

I am telling y’all, life on a farm in the sunshine with animals all around and newly-arrived babies is good stuff. I was deeply sad to leave the idyll today.

Here’s a video of Jemima’s kids bouncing and bopping along behind her.

PS: Russian warship, go fuck yourself!

I stand with Ukraine.