Do I wake or sleep?

Monserrate heckled mercilessly during his debate with opponent for Queens seat in upcoming special election.

My favorite part is the protesters who slashed red lipstick on their cheeks every time he promised to "cut" anything.

Monserrate was convicted last fall of slashing his girlfriend's face with glass a little over a year ago (he is seen on video dragging her through the lobby of their apartment building). Subsequently the State Senate expelled him out but he fought it--he actually sued the State Senate. A judge smacked him down, affirming the right of legislative bodies to discipline their own members. He was also right in the middle of those shenanigans last summer with the deadlock in the State Senate, and he's also voted against gay marriage in New York State, notwithstanding his campaign promise to Empire Pride to vote for it. Not only is he running again, if you can believe it he's cast himself as the victim in the whole girlfriend slashing-and-dragging, Senate expulsion thing. He made a speech, saying he "had been made a scapegoat" and "accused his critics of exploiting an 'ethical bully pulpit' and called the process to expel him 'the height of arrogance.'" Just...wow. Truly shameless. This is really just another example of the shithead-male entitlement thing as the beating at the Social--this is obviously a guy who thinks he has the right to discipline his "woman" and is outraged than anyone could suggest otherwise.

There's a fascinating article in New York magazine this week--I read on Monday and I've been thinking about it ever since. It's about that horrific crash on the Taconic Parkway that happened this summer, the one where 8 people, including 4 kids, were killed. What happened was a woman, Diane Schuler, with her daughter, son and three nieces in the car, went the wrong way down the Taconic Parkway--she went up an exit ramp and pulled into the inside breakdown lane and drove that way for about two miles until she slammed into an SUV going the other (correct) way. Everyone in her vehicle, except her son, was killed, and all three passengers in the SUV were also killed.

I found that sentence early in the article, "passing drivers said she stared straight ahead, her expression serene and oblivious, her hands at ten and two on the steering wheel" haunting. In fact it took me so, that I started doing research to see how the author had learned that--I can't find that detail, I may have to email him directly. I'd only barely heard of the story before I read the article (with no TV, I miss a lot of news, sadly) and my first exposure to it was with the article. I had a lot of very mixed feelings after reading it and after my research I'm even more engaged. The timeline in the article is eerie. She and her husband and other family members had gone camping and she left with all those kids around 9:30 am and stopped at a McDonald's for coffee and OJ, and I guess the kids ate there (this is not only from the article but from what else I've read). Around 12 noon, her sister-in-law Jackie (mother of three of the girls in the car) calls Diane's cell and they have a normal conversation, no apparent slurring or impairment. However just an hour later one of the nieces calls her dad, Jackie's husband Warren--there's something wrong with her aunt and they can hear kids crying in the background. The dad speaks to Diane who's disoriented and slurring. He tells her to stay put, he's coming to get her but she ends the call. And he calls back--again and again and again, as he's driving to try to find her, but does not call 911. She starts driving again and at some point during all this, witnesses apparently saw her at the side of the road, looking as though she were vomiting.

Those poor, terrified children. Oh man. That just makes my heart hurt. Those little girls--the oldest, 9 years old Emma, trying to handle this situation she knew was bad, trying to keep her sisters and cousins safe, doing all the right things by calling dad and telling him the signs where they were, and none of it helped. Because when they did an autopsy on Diane, she had an enormous amount of alcohol in her, 10 shots' worth, plus evidence that she'd been smoking pot within the hour. More than that, she had raw alcohol, indigested alcohol, in her stomach--so she'd kept on drinking even after she must've known she was hammered. What the hell? What could possibly explain that? How does she go from coherent and together at 12 to a complete mess an hour later? What the hell happened? Did she get some kind of bad news, did she think of something or did the alcohol act differently on her that day for some reason? I just don't get what would impel her to drink such an enormous amount when she had 5 kids in the car, especially when she'd never even come close to slipping like this before (had never shown up drunk to a PTA meeting or work or whatever).

( Denial )

( 'This becomes a man you can't hate enough.' Really? )

"They should come forward, come clean," says Mike, and says that would be enough. “And we would feel better. We would."

I just don't know if I agree with that. I think right now nothing will make them feel better. I just don't think they're there yet. Maybe they never will be.

One thing that does sit wrong with me--I'm always uncomfortable when the spouse of the primary victim seems more invested in vengeance than the actual injured party. I think Jeanne Bastardi should be supporting her husband, not whipping him into greater heights of anger. He can obviously speak for himself. I can't imagine she's much solace to him, because she's just reinforcing his anger and hatred.

( Her world is getting smaller... )

I hope the Bastardis, Danny and his son, and Warren and his wife find some peace. I really pray for that.

So Michael, Tesse, Duncan and I all drove out to an apple farm in Orange County, New York. I got up early Saturday morning and dressed appropriately--my new sequined pumpkin tee-shirt, a thermal long-sleeved shirt underneath it, braids and my pumpkin cap. We all met at the Avis in Midtown and while we were waiting in line Michael offered to get me coffee. I gave him my Starbucks card and asked if he could bring me a pumpkin spice latte. Apparently Michael HATES Starbucks but very nicely got me one anyway, even calling me at the counter to ask if I wanted whipped cream.

The drive was guh-moregeous. The leaves this year are not as dramatically beautiful as they have been in the past, but they still looked just lovely. When we got there, we headed immediately to the winetasting section--we got 6 tastings for $3, and then the very nice woman who took us through the tastings even gave us extra (I think we actually got 9 tastings). We got a lil' loopy on wine and bought some--I got a bottle of "Apple Blossom Blush" and Blackberry wine. I'm glad we did the wine first because later on it was very crowded.

Seth and Rachel joined us, and we all piled onto the tractor trailer and went to the orchard. I kept whipping out my football and throwing passes to Michael. I think I need to buy a better football, because my yellow one is somewhat deflated and a little small. OTOH, it IS lemon-yellow, which is so me! When we got to the orchard, the first trees we saw had small and unimpressive apples--then we noticed the trees farther back had much bigger apples toward to top. We could've used the apple-picker, but what fun is that? I climbed up several trees and pulled them off, dropping them into Michael's and Duncan's bags. I love climbing things. God should just save time and reincarnate me now as a 10-year-old boy, because clearly that's what I'm meant to be. I am just such a tomboy. I love jumping off things and climbing them and throwing things.

The one tiny flaw in the day was the weather--it was beautiful but a little too cold and windy. When we were in the sun it was okay but I had to keep my jacket on most of the time, which covered up my pumpkin-tastic sequined tee-shirt.

We had hot cider and cider doughnuts (mmmm...) and hot dogs and chili, and then we rode the tractor again, to the pumpkin patch. I got one sugar pie pumpkin, to puree and make pumpin bread and pie. Then we drove home, although we got a bit lost finding our way back out. The countryside is so pretty there though, so even lost, it was lovely. When we got back into the city we opened up the trunk and discovered our apples had gotten out of the bags and commingled promiscuously. They were all over the carpeted bottom of the trunk (which was very clean) and some had gotten bruised. I scolded them for their misbehavior and then we divvied them up. I can't wait to make some apple pies and apple bread.