Acrasiating Pt 3: The Pseudopod Extends

We’ve had a handyman make all of the holes and patches in the wall disappear (my wife has told me I can not hang anything in the new house without her permission), and there are frustrated carpenter bees who are wondering why they can’t access their beautiful, symmetrical home-holes in our outside rafters.   We made a good grip of money from our yard sale, and I was incredibly heartened that antiques and heirlooms, baubles and baby toys, found their way to loving homes.  I even have someone coming by tonight, a fellow nature loving comrade from my folks’ old UU church, who will take some of the beach stones my mom collected from Santa Barbara.  

The mess is the final stage, though.  Piles are going into boxes or into donation; we’ve made multiple trips to our good pal Zach’s All Things And More in Sun Valley.    If you are in the Valley, you gotta stop by his amazing mounds of clothing, scads of costume jewelry, electronics galore, and kitchenware by the hundreds.  He’ll take all of your donations.  All of them.  And he’ll give you some Chinese melon or naranjas con tajín or an inevitable tamale.  He has mutiple organizations come to his shop and gather up clothes for Africa, Southeast Asia, and local charities, and he runs a food giveaway on Saturdays.  Did I mention he’ll take ALL of your donations?  

As we pack, we read the news.  It seems that each day we get closer to Costa Rica, the USA gets closer to fascism.  Now we have Washington DC under martial law.  Not approaching martial law, not suggesting, not threatening; just straight up martial law.  I had to rejoin Facebook for various Costa Rican FB-only groups; meanwhile Meta is bringing on anti-LGBTQ conspiracy theorists.    I don’t enjoy seeing billionaires bow to the government, but I’m not surprised.  Tim Cook gave 47 a 24 karat iPhone or some nonsense.   47’s capricious, grift-and-graft, Emolument Clause-be-damned attitude lets everyone know that he can be bought for a day to lift a tariff or curry some other sort of slimy favor.   I feel like Eliza crossing the ice (ok, I never read Uncle Tom’s Cabin; I guess I feel like Legolas running across a collapsing bridge in a bad Hobbit movie); we are just barely getting out in time.  Of course, that isn’t true.  Most of the folks we know are staying.  Others are preparing to leave.  And anecdotally, or with some estimates out there by people who track these things, 1-3% of the US population are planning to leave.  I suppose that would be at least 3.something million people, about the same as Los Angeles, the city, leaving.  That’s not insignificant.  

Packing and sorting is exhausting; I fought off heat exhaustion a few days ago with the careful application of rest and water; last night I had to stop when I started to get spots before my eyes and a nasty headache.  However, there are gems to be found.  We gave some money from our garage sale to help another person get paperwork in order to prep their own emigration plans.  And I got to review ancient drawings my Mom kept (seems like she kept everything!)  

Here’s a pic I made of my dad.  I was three; looks like I drew it the day after my mom’s birthday.  

Onward! Onward!  The pseudopod has extended high in the air to test the winds; it can sense burning unrest, and a chance of ICE in the streets.  Time to slowly undulate towards the Global South.