Three strikes…

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AGMA channeling Bob Ross

…and AGMA’s out.

I have the flu.

At least I think it’s the flu. Fever, mild chills, congestion, coughing, just feeling over all crappy. I’d be willing to write it off as a cold if it wasn’t for the fever. AGMA rarely gets a fever.

I need to get rid of this. Fast.

AGMA’s going on another juant… Back to Barcelona to track down those darned would be purse thieves. Read about my harrowing adventure here.

And I leave on Sunday morning which doesn’t give me a lot of time to heal.

(Just kidding about the purse thieves. I’m not on steroids anymore so they’d probably beat the crap out of me.)

Son #2 wants me to go to a Doc-in-a-Box.

Great idea, but it snowed last night in Atlanta. Again. And it’s really cold so…once again….the whole city has shut down.

Including the Doc-in-a-Boxes…

Evidently getting sick in Atlanta when it snows is a risky proposition.

I emailed my regular doc. I love her, but she tends to be very conventional. She said it ‘could’ just be a cold. Some colds present with fevers. And they can last anywhere from 24 to 36 hours, and if mine lasts more than 36 hours, I should come in.

Except they were closed today. I plan to be on the phone bright an early tomorrow morning.

I’m sick of being sick if you know what I mean.

I started to get a cold in mid-December but immediately did my Kung Fu cold fighting moves. Oil of Oregano, Umcka drops, zinc lozenges, neti pot (such a delightful experience…), fizzy vitamin C.

And it went away with nary a sneeze.

AGMA was feelin’ pretty, pretty cocky.

Strike 1.

Then, I came down with the mother of all colds on Christmas Day when we were in Chicago. Courtesy of TMAGCITW otherwise know as the adorable germ factories.

And I didn’t have any of my Kung Fu voodoo stuff with me.

Oh the humanity!

It took me a while to shake that cold. I must have gone through 3 boxes of tissues. I had no idea one person could produce that much mucus. Except Trump of course. I’m sure he can out mucus/snot anybody with the best mucus/snot from the best sinus’ ever.

Strike 2.

Then I awakened on Monday and whispered those 4 little words that Hubs really never wants to hear.

“I think I’m sick.”

Actually, I croaked them.

So I was hacking and coughing and snotting. And feeling really, really lazy. Then yesterday I had some pretty serious body aches and started to get chills. “Mr. Feder, you sound like a real attractive guy.”

And I though I felt a bit warm, but AGMA couldn’t find out new fangled thermometer that you stick in your ear.

But I honestly didn’t suspect the flu. What a dolt….

So I went about my business yesterday. I had a corporate chair massage job in the afternoon. I loaded up on cough suppressant and the kids stuff that dries your nose up. I had 10 clients. Oops.

Then I went to a “Paint like Bob Ross” night at a local pizza place. I felt like sh*t, but we’d paid for it already so I went. AGMA didn’t want to be a wimp.  After all, I’m a mom, I know how to power through.

In hindsight (and I have spectacular hindsight), I wouldn’t have done the chair massage job. But the Bob Ross night was a total HOOT – we got wigs and painted a snowy mountain scene. I probably would have still done that.

Don’t judge me.

I got concerned today when I finally found the ‘stick in you ear’ thermometer (honestly, are those things really accurate?). I was at nearly 101.

Hmmmm…

Then I looked up the symptoms of this 2018 version of the flu. I had 6 out of the 8 symptoms.

Hmmmm…

Strike 3.

AGMA has cleared my calendar until I leave.

I missed dinner with Son#2 tonight. It was his early birthday dinner – I’ll be gone on his real birthday. This makes me sad. Hubs went out with him instead.

And I’ll be missing an event called Power to the Polls GA on Saturday to mark the 1 year anniversary of the Women’s March in DC and Atlanta. Instead of marching again this year, the organizers are maturing the local resistance movement to bring together amazing speakers, have workshops in grassroots empowerment and provide plenty of volunteer opportunities as the 2018 mid-terms approach. And considering the Yuge Girth Cheeto Sh*thole’s antics of the past week, those mid-terms can’t get here fast enough.

AGMA will certainly be engaged in continued resistance to the attempted dismantling of our democracy. But it’s just nice to be around folks who have really put some skin in the game. And are wearing pink pussy hats.

*sigh*

I know, a barely 1st world problem (because we’re barely a 1st world country anymore.)

AGMA’s out after her three strikes.

I’m tired and sad that I am missing fun and important stuff. And I’m concerned about flying in an enclosed metal tube with recirculated air for 9 hours on Sunday.  And coughing.

So AGMA’s going to tuck in for the night and pretend like everything is going to be fine.

Hope springs eternal.

See you in Barcelona!

Pink pussies everywhere

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Picture courtesy of AGMA’s crappy phone camera

Hats I mean…  Pink pussy hats.  Everywhere.

The Women’s March on Washington was awesome!

I’m sure you’ve read about it and seen the pictures by now.   You’ve heard about Ashely Judd’s reading of that incredibly powerful poem written by a young Tennessee  woman.  And Michael Moore’s five step resistance plan.  And feminist icon Gloria Steinem’s speech.

And Madonna.  She was…Madonna.  ‘Nuff said.

But as always, there is an AGMA version.  Of course.

I got to DC on Friday, 1/20.  Inauguration Day.  Tragically, another day in American history that will live in infamy.

The Dulles gift shops were stocked full of DT t-shirts and memorabilia and made in China “Make America Great Again” red hats.  Considering how sparsely attended the inauguration was, they would have been financially more astute to have stocked Women’s March stuff since there were sooooo many more people at the March.

Hindsight…

I stayed with my niece and her family in Virginia.  Before I left home, I got a text from my neice asking if I had my flu shot.  Ah oh…   Turns out her middle son had the flu, but before the end of the weekend, my niece also came down with it.  And her husband and oldest son got a severe, extra nasty colds.  It was the house of contagion.

Charming.

Friday was spent getting ready for the March the next morning.  I finished my poster which was truly a thing of beauty.   Front…

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And back…

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I loaded up my burner phone (OMG – yes I did…) with the ACLU DC Justice app.  And encrypted everything on my phone just in case it was confiscated.  AGMA created a new FB account thinking I would do FB live if things got “rough”.   I brought $100 with me and my medications in their original bottles in case I got tossed in the hoosegow.  I wrote emergency contact numbers on my arm with a sharpie.

Seriously.

You can imagine my surprise when I saw a grand total of two police officers the entire day until the March got to the park in front of the White House.

Not that I’m sad it was peaceful and I didn’t need to do all that stuff.  AGMA just felt a bit…over prepared.  Understatement.

But it’s better to prepare for the worst and get the best, which is what happened!

There were 9 of us who went down to the March.  We got there around 9:50 AM. We couldn’t see the stage, but had a jumbotron in front of us so could hear and see the rally.  I didn’t realize that there were soooo many people there that 70% of them couldn’t see or hear anything.

My first inkling at the size of the crowd was when a friend who came up from Atlanta called me.  She said that they were in front of the National Archives and couldn’t get any closer.  That was a loooong way away.

The rally was great, but long.  Too long.  The organizers, in wanting to be inclusive of all groups, let too many of the many speakers go on a bit too long.  So instead of being the 3 hours and 15 minutes it was supposed to be, it went over 4.5 hours.

It was chilly and crowded and was nearly impossible to get to a port-o-let.  I didn’t try.  Thankfully, AGMA is good at managing stuff like that.  TMI right?

By the time the March started, AGMA was by herself.  My niece and the other 7 ladies bailed at 3.5 hours.  They were cold, hungry, had to pee and tired.  And my niece looked awful.  Remember, she was coming down with the flu.

But AGMA had no intention of leaving.  I was there to march and, by God, I was going to march.

And I did.  And it was a glorious thing.

Despite the long rally and tired feet and hungry bellies and full bladders, when the march finally started, the marchers were polite and peaceful and considerate of each other.  The energy was amazing.

I’ve never been in a crowd of nearly a million people.  It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.  Words fail AGMA if you can believe that…

Once we got to the Elliptical in front of the White House, I found a bench to stand on and watched for nearly an hour as people poured it the park.  Again, it was a sight I really can’t describe.

At 5:15 PM, it seemed like it was time to leave.  It was getting dark, things were winding down and I had to figure out how to get back to my nieces house.

But AGMA had two urgent needs.  I needed a toilet and some food.   I brought one banana to the rally.  Not good planning.  I was starving.

Thankfully there were port-o-lets close by and no lines.

But the lines at the food trucks were crazy long.  AGMA opted to head to the Metro to get somewhat close to my niece’s house.

It took my niece about 20 minutes to drive to the Metro stop to pick me up.  There was a Subway, a Chinese food place and a BBQ place across the street.  That was cruel.  The smell was intoxicating.

Bless my niece’s husband for having dinner ready when I got back.  They all kind of stared at me in disbelief as I inhaled the food.  Then had a second helping.  Protesting and marching evidently requires a lot of fuel.

Oh, and my burner phone could barely take pictures let alone do Facebook live.  I guess you can’t expect a lot for $29.99 from Walmart.  And I came back with my $100 and all of my meds.  And I had sharpie on my arm for a few days afterwards.  A reminder of what didn’t happen.

This time.

But in the 10 days since the inauguration, it’s far worse that I imagined.  Probably far worse than anybody imagined.  Our free speech, our free press, the rule of law, our Constitution are all under serious attack.

I keep thinking of Theoden’s line from The Two Towers from the Lord of the Rings series by JRR Tolkien, “What can men do against such reckless hate?”

What indeed…

Every American has to answer that question for themselves.  My prayer is that each one of us will be brave.  And not be silent.

Ever…

P.S.  On a lighter note – OMG, OMG, OMG…I got inked yesterday.  It’s glorious!  Stay tuned for a picture once it quits looking red and nasty.