Although I did not agree with his brand of staunch conservatism, I always had a soft spot for Justice Antonin Scalia. I've mentioned previously that my favorite US Supreme Court Justice is The Notorious RBG. I may not have mentioned that my least favorite is Clarence Thomas. Clarence doesn't speak - he hasn't asked a question during oral argument in 20 years. Clarence doesn't think - he always waits until Scalia decides, and then he concurs. Oh, hell, what will Clarence do now?
But I had met Scalia in 1990 and he made a huge impression on an over-aged law student from a tiny Jewish law school out in Long Island's Suffolk County. He was approachable, warm, and humorous. He was smart, and he was comfortable with his smartness. He was one of the judges at a Moot Court Competition at Brooklyn Law School, and I was part of the team representing Touro Law Center. We won two third-place awards - first time little Touro had done that in a national competition - and Scalia handed us the awards with handshakes all around. Although we would never sing in the same key when it came to legal decisions, that evening in Brooklyn would remain one of the best moments of my life.
The angry posturing by the Legislature and the President regarding who gets to fill the open position on the High Court is disgusting. Really, the Court cannot sit in a limbo of 4-4 decisions for a year, which is what the Republicans want. And the President should not be trying to sneak in a recess appointment; this position is too important to take away the Senate's right to investigate and interrogate the nominee.
And that's my opinion.
In the meantime this is Day Eight of this never-ending illness, with its raw, harsh cough rattling deep in my lungs, and the pain from the heavy pressure against the back of my head and shoulders. I have nothing left to give to fight this. I can't walk or stand and keep my head erect. I keep experiencing muscle spasms. I can't lift my hands easily to use the iPad; I haven't got the strength, and if I try to force the issue, my hands shake and I start hitting random keys. I remain certain that this illness is taking place at the intersection of a really bad cold and a fibromyalgia flare, which is why I haven't bothered to go to the doctor - he doesn't "get" fibromyalgia, and I am too tired to try to educate him.
I am tired of this crap, and I am going to try to accomplish something, several somethings, as a matter of fact, starting with a nice hot shower with lavender body wash. If I live through that, I have a bunch of stuff to take care of, online and on the phone, regarding our cruise to Alaska. (Less than 3 months. I am so excited.) Cooking - I haven't done anything more complicated than butter a corn muffin in well over a week. Time to make the rice and beans.
Hope springs eternal , but I can't get passed the shower. I can't stand up to dry my hair. I can't support the weight of my head or the weight of the blow dryer. There came a time I gave serious thought to going to the rheumatologist, and later on Rob asked me if I wanted to go to the ER, but I slept those suggestions off. Nothing got done today, and there were times I cried from pain and sheer frustration, but I am where I want to be, in my home, in my own bed with my husband and a couple of Yorkies. Maybe tomorrow will be better.
The angry posturing by the Legislature and the President regarding who gets to fill the open position on the High Court is disgusting. Really, the Court cannot sit in a limbo of 4-4 decisions for a year, which is what the Republicans want. And the President should not be trying to sneak in a recess appointment; this position is too important to take away the Senate's right to investigate and interrogate the nominee.
And that's my opinion.
In the meantime this is Day Eight of this never-ending illness, with its raw, harsh cough rattling deep in my lungs, and the pain from the heavy pressure against the back of my head and shoulders. I have nothing left to give to fight this. I can't walk or stand and keep my head erect. I keep experiencing muscle spasms. I can't lift my hands easily to use the iPad; I haven't got the strength, and if I try to force the issue, my hands shake and I start hitting random keys. I remain certain that this illness is taking place at the intersection of a really bad cold and a fibromyalgia flare, which is why I haven't bothered to go to the doctor - he doesn't "get" fibromyalgia, and I am too tired to try to educate him.
I am tired of this crap, and I am going to try to accomplish something, several somethings, as a matter of fact, starting with a nice hot shower with lavender body wash. If I live through that, I have a bunch of stuff to take care of, online and on the phone, regarding our cruise to Alaska. (Less than 3 months. I am so excited.) Cooking - I haven't done anything more complicated than butter a corn muffin in well over a week. Time to make the rice and beans.
Hope springs eternal , but I can't get passed the shower. I can't stand up to dry my hair. I can't support the weight of my head or the weight of the blow dryer. There came a time I gave serious thought to going to the rheumatologist, and later on Rob asked me if I wanted to go to the ER, but I slept those suggestions off. Nothing got done today, and there were times I cried from pain and sheer frustration, but I am where I want to be, in my home, in my own bed with my husband and a couple of Yorkies. Maybe tomorrow will be better.
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