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Archive for August, 2025

There’s a chill in the air! My neighbor Les has moved, the Bat Mitzvah is fast approaching, and the Twins have turned six months. I’m never very good with change, but the cooler temperatures are certainly welcome. I’ve packed away my swimsuits and Bob and I are ready for our Fall jabs – you know, the annual Influenza and Covid vaccines. We wanted to get them a little early since the Love Bug’s big day will be full of friends and family fresh off airplanes. But guess what?

No such luck.

The 2025 Covid booster has been approved and manufactured in the US, except for some odd reason (RFK Jr) they have NOT been distributed yet! The Covid booster is nowhere to be found. Oh well, but if you search around, you might be able to find last year’s Covid vaccine… I hear the new flu shot is available though, which is great news since the L’il Pumpkin just found out the friend he played soccer with after school yesterday has the flu. Yep, flu and Covid are ramping up in Nashville.

And then I bumped into this article: “As Trump Weighs IVF, Republicans Back ‘New Natural’ Approach to Infertility.” https://www.nytimes.com/2025/08/21/us/politics/trump-ivf-restorative-reproductive-medicine.html?unlocked_article_code=1.hE8.b_ok.-tvmuQ3oUKjI&smid=url-share

Just when you think the MAHA movement can’t get any wonkier, when you realize that the Kennedy name has lost its lustre, the GOP decides to push “restorative reproductive medicine.” After Mr T promised to make IVF available for everyone on the campaign trail, Christian Conservatives are having trouble dealing with those pesky, left-over embryos. It all started with Alabama’s Supreme Court Decision last year calling embryos “unborn children located outside of a biological uterus.” So they’ve come up with an alternative – they believe couples should look at the ‘root causes’ of infertility, like endometriosis or say environmental factors.

Hey, Catholics have been pushing a “natural” method of birth control for centuries. Why not return to the 19th Century, where charlatans in traveling caravans sold snake oil? Where polio and measles and flu killed thousands upon thousands of children each year. I’ve stopped making jokes about RFK Jr’s parasitic brain worm, but I still think that making him Secretary of the US Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) was a cringe-worthy, dirty trick. Here are just a few of his baseless views:

 “Wi-Fi causes cancer and “leaky brain”; that school shootings are attributable to antidepressants; that chemicals in water can lead to children becoming transgender; and that AIDS may not be caused by HIV. He’s also long said that vaccines cause autism and fail to protect people from diseases.”

And speaking of school shootings, our Grands had a bomb threat at their school the first week back, complete with FBI agents and bomb-sniffing dogs. It turned out to be nothing, but is terrifying none-theless. I remembered waiting for the all clear from a lockdown at the Twins’ NICU in the spring. The Twins are currently loving solid food! And thanks to the miracle of IVF and our iPhones, we can watch them in happy baby pose and rolling over, trying to crawl. After their measles vaccine, they will be able to travel on a plane!

That is, if our country can manage to stay in the 21st Century.


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The nurse asked me yesterday if I’d broken any bones in the last few months. I had to think…. We were at Vandy. I was hooked up to a machine delivering my annual “life-saving” bone-building medicine Reclast. Bob was sitting next to me, on his iPad and we’d been puzzling over Connections in the New York Times. We were settling in for over an hour’s wait as this miraculous infusion worked its way through my veins. It should have been an easy question, Bob immediately said “No.”

He also said “No” when I opened my iPad to the NYTimes and announced that we could watch Mr T’s meeting LIVE with President Zelensky and European leaders at the White House. My husband is well on his way to becoming an official curmudgeon! He wasn’t always like this. Over the years, people would tell me that Bob wasn’t like most physicians; after all, he translated medical speak into normal language, and he was so laid-back and easy-going.

I mean, how many doctors do you know who drove an old school bus to Woodstock? He was the exact opposite of a curmudgeon, “a bad-tempered, difficult, cantankerous (old man) person.”

“What about my clavicle?” I said. My last broken bone was my right clavicle which I never mentioned before dear reader because after the Big Fall last year, preceding the second election of a disgraced, twice impeached, indicted president, that resulted in a broken neck and hands, I was too embarrassed. It hardly seemed relevant. We’d returned from LA in May after the twins were born, and I went to see the dentist. After putting my chair back, positional vertigo took hold resulting in my tipping over later that day and BANG. Broken clavicle.

Coupled with osteoporosis, vertigo is my enemy.

On occasion, the ceiling would spin when laying down after a severe cold. I learned not to pay much attention to that because in a family of doctors These. Things. Happen; a virus can linger and it’s best to just ignore such symptoms. Which I did because they always went away. Until the vertigo continued that day, after the dentist visit. My sister Kay has had  Meniere’s disease for most of her life, and I wondered if this was it. Am I doomed to a chronic disease of the inner ear that will make my world spin out of control at the drop of a hat?

Since the last presidential election, I’ve been caught up in this healing journey. After all, my personal scaffolding was collapsing and I had to concentrate on building strength and resilience. But the fact is, this administration is intent on carving away many of our cultural and social norms, on deconstructing our civil rights. Political theatre captures our imagination; the GOP courts Russia on Friday and the EU on Monday. Hypocrisy much? There is nothing to see here, Mr T didn’t “rape” his victim – he was convicted of sexual abuse and defaming E Jean Carroll. We have a president who sues anyone and everyone, a despot. Academic institutions, main stream media, and large corporate law firms are bending their knees.

This country is experiencing communal vertigo, deluged by a slew of alternative facts and fear. Russia DID invade Ukraine! The BBC’s headline – “Ukraine’s President Zelensky managed to avoid another disastrous Oval Office meeting with Donald Trump,” says it all. The Epstein case retreats as more shiny objects are thrown into the mix. We are trying to find a life line, a way to keep this fledgling Democracy from toppling over. And I am hoping that positional vertigo is simply a phase, and my bones will continue to heal.

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Last night Bob and I were just sharing some pillow talk before drifting off to sleep, when the subject somehow turned to last wishes. Bob has seen his fair share of dead and nearly-dead bodies over many decades working in an Emergency Room. I have not. Still, I’m used to his pragmatic approach to end of life discussions; I don’t however, appreciate discussing the inevitable in the cozy comfort of our bed right after turning out the light!

I may have been telling him about the memoir I’d just finished reading,

It’s a novel by one of my favorite writers Geraldine Brooks. She wrote “Horse” which I passed around to all my friends in Nashville. But “Memorial Days” is her latest work and dives into the sudden loss of her husband, Tony Horwitz, at the young age of 60. She was right in the middle of writing “Horse” in fact when he collapsed on a street alone in a Washington, DC suburb while she was at home, alone, on Martha’s Vineyard.

She writes about the resident who calls her at the end of his shift with the news – his perfunctory answers, the background noise, his rush to get off the phone. She writes about having to delay her grief in order to deal with her sons and planning two memorials – one for their friends on the Vineyard and one in DC for his family and colleagues. Tony was a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, on a book tour in his hometown. She writes honestly, with words that cut deep into my soul.

Last night, I asked Bob about our insurance coverage, leading us down the yellow brick road to who might “go” first. It seems that Brooks’ medical insurance abruptly terminated the day after her husband died… without informing her. For a month she and her children were not covered, which naturally infuriated her. Like most Aussies, Brooks cannot understand how a medical catastrophe could bankrupt a family. And I thought about meeting a new Republican family member years ago who said to our dismay, “But we have the best health-care in the world.”

I came across this article while drinking my coffee, “So Much for the Best Health Care System in the World,” in the Atlantic. The GOP has not stopped opposing universal healthcare, but they are using a different tactic.

“Republicans haven’t given up their opposition to universal coverage—far from it—but they have mostly stopped singing the praises of American health-care innovation. Indeed, they are taking a meat axe to it, slashing medical-research funding while elevating quacks and charlatans to positions of real power. The resulting synthesis is the worst of all worlds: a system that will lose its ability to develop new cures, while withholding its benefits from even more of the poor and sick.” https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2025/08/trump-republicans-health-innovation/683795/?gift=MZkyOCULmn5OA_9_ikIP-9_sqlI0wYN6ADUWpCxNFxU&utm_source=copy-link&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=share

My sweet husband sensed that our conversation was veering into dangerous territory last night, and so he quickly pivoted to the twins. From darkness to light. Those baby girls are teething, smiling and eating gourmet pureed foods. They are so eager to crawl. I wonder if they will run before they can walk. They bring me so much joy. They sustained me through my post-fall healing journey. I’m booking a flight right now.

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The season of family birthdays has begun. And right on cue the weather turned cooler, for the first time I hesitated while entering the pool. It was actually chilly! The Grands will be returning to school next week. How did this happen? First the unbearable heat of midsummer, and now overcast skies from fires in Canada.

We called our son for his birthday and he was busy making bottles and feeding babies. What? Yes, the twins have baby teeth coming and are all ready to chew! They sit in their high chairs like baby birds waiting for something yummy. I asked if they had a Mouli grater – the small hand-held gizmo that looks like a cheese grater upside down. No? I raved about the tiny tool, you could put anything you cook for yourselves into it, ad a dollop of yogurt, and with a few turns produce finely pureed baby food!

But they did have some smart baby food electric device that weighs and measures and grinds….it was a gift…and again, I felt ancient. I’ve been feeling older lately. Maybe it was the oppressive heat and not getting outside to walk. Or maybe it’s just the lethargy of unending bad news from T world and the scandal that will not be stopped involving young girls. Take the first page story of today’s NYTimes:

“A Look Inside Jeffrey Epstein’s Manhattan Lair: In his seven-story townhouse, the sex offender hosted the elite, displayed photos with presidents and showcased a first edition of “Lolita,” according to previously unreported photos and letters.” https://www.nytimes.com/2025/08/05/us/jeffrey-epstein-mansion-photos.html?unlocked_article_code=1.b08.884G.AM6Pxo2enw4z&smid=url-share

The picture on his dresser, with Mr T and Melania, where he has cut out his accomplice Maxwell is telling. And the letter from Woody Allen, comparing him to Dracula, is absurdist theatre. I wonder why it has taken this story, of all the transgressions, the tale of an accused rapist realtor running a modeling agency and the high brow sex offender, to shake the foundation of the MAGA faithful? This is the first time I’ve actually read anything about Epstein, and it will be the last.

It’s time to think about baking a carrot cake for the Bug’s birthday. Time to find a dress for the Bat Mitzvah. And my lipstick feminist sister Kay has found her graduation picture from stewardess school in 1958. She tells me she was never weighed or measured, and I understand why. Kay always carried herself with confidence, after all she was a single mother when the job description was anything but welcoming. Women were not just weighed, they were expected to be single with no dependents. The fledgling pilot/flight attendant union of the airline industry was the first to test the commodifying of a woman’s body.

It’s supposed to heat back up this week. The Bug has started her volleyball practice and back to school shopping for the Pumpkin too has begun; he’s going to have his first locker! I’ve told my sister she was a trail blazer, after our Year of Living Dangerously she really had no other choice. Can you spot her?

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