Sunday, December 16, 2012

Sunday May 27 Memorial Day Picnic with the Polka Dots, part 2

I was deep in Polka Dot territory at the party. I thought it was just going to be a party, but it was a Political Event. Politics to the right of me, politics to the left of me, too much politics. Too much. I am getting to hate politics. I especially hate politics when people are trash talking the other side.

Both sides do this. The other night, at a volunteer thing I did, I mentioned that my husband was a Polka Dot.

"Well, that's your problem," said the old lady who was also volunteering.

More than one Polka Dot, upon hearing I am a Stripe married to a Polka Dot, has gasped and said, "I could never be married to a Stripe!" Said it to my face.

I usually just say something like, "Politics isn't the only thing" or "I judge people on other things besides their political views." I don't want to argue about it, but it would be nice if people would think before they insult someone to her face.

I wish I had said something snappy to the old lady, but I never think of the right thing to say in time. I should have said that she wasn't being very tolerant or loving or accepting or whatever or maybe I just should have said something about how she was being quite rude to make such a comment to me, but I didn't. I could even have said a Miss-Manners approved, "I beg your pardon," but who prepares for a nasty jibe from an old lady?

I didn't say anything because I am slow to think of a response but also because she was a little bit scary. There were five of us in this car. She had jumped into the front seat, even though one of the passengers is a big, big guy with broad shoulders. "Anya, let Miguel sit in the front seat!" I had said.

"Nope," she said as she jumped into the seat.

"But he's bigger than you!" I protested.

She refused. Miguel shrugged. I thought, What a bitch!

At the party, I drifted in and out of conversations. I got stuck in one conversation where the older man was raving about the time in the '60s when some protesters took over the state capitol. He sounded so proud of the protesters. I was not so impressed. He also claimed that they were beaten, but I googled the incident and could find not one citation saying they were beaten. But it does make a better story, doesn't it?

Once I got away from him, I moved on every time I heard someone say, "So and so prominent Stripe is a scumbag" or "We have those @*$@ Stripes on the run."

Honestly. They make it all so personal. And they get so mean.

I did, however, find a few people who had no interest in discussing politics. It was hard. But it distracted me from the issue that there was not enough food! How can you throw a party and not have enough food? When we got there, the appetizers were already gone. The host put out the main dish. I took a little because I was pacing myself and thought I would have seconds, but after waiting for everyone else to get firsts, I went back and saw that the BBQ was all gone! Gone!

And then there was no dessert!


My two nightmares about throwing a party are

1. Nobody will come
2. I won't have enough food

That's why I always make about ten times as much food as I think I will need. I'd rather have leftovers than not feed my guests.

Primo and I came home and ate cookies.

But back to the party. I talked to a woman whose husband had run for office last year.

"How's it going?" she asked. "Campaigns are very hard on families. Very, very hard."

I nodded. "It's stressful."

"It gets better," she said. "But don't read the comments on stories in the paper. People can be so mean when they are anonymous. And remember that it will all be over soon."

"In six months," I said. "Not soon."


  1. I feel so sorry for you! I can't even imagine what you must have been going tthrough with this campaign.

    1. Monica, I don't know how the families in high-profile campaigns stand it.

  2. I applaud your not publishing these posts until it was over. I would be have been spewing venom the whole time!

    1. Webb, there are actually stories I am not putting in this series because they would identify me to someone who was involved -- you would be appalled.