The bad thing about buying a lightening-fast desktop? Now I can see the horse and buggy speed at which my laptop works.

And speaking of buggy, what the hell is up with Firefox these days? I'll be working along just fine and then it will suddenly start eating memory like PacMan eats yellow dots. Everything comes to a grinding halt. And it isn't just me; I've heard others complain of this malady.

So, I'm restarting my computer - again - to finish an electronic filing that I should have finished more than two hours ago. Except for the alligator wrestling with Firefox.

Grr.

Today I hugged dear friends and little children.

Today I told stories and listened to stories and laughed.

Today I got caught in a deep discussion about George Lucas and Star Wars and was laughed at by fellow geeks for being uber-geeky.

Today I sang Happy Birthday to an almost-toddler who was much more interested in the wrapping paper than the presents.

Today I rocked that almost-toddler to sleep and tucked her into bed.

Today I turned onto my street just as a fireworks show was starting in the park half a mile away. I parked and held hands with my hubby as we ooohed and aaaahed through 20 minutes of incendiary goodness.

Today? Was a good day.

I finally figured it out. This is like Orpheus walking Eurydice down the tunnel and bidding her farewell at the River Styx.

Somehow, understanding this makes me feel better.

My fingers are just sitting on the keyboard as I try to find words for what I'm feeling. We now have airline tickets, about a month from now, for a memorial service for a man who, at this moment, is far from dead. He could, in point of fact, linger on for considerably longer. But he's tired of fighting, and the life he now leads is nothing that he ever wanted. And so, in another couple weeks, the people who love him will begin shutting down the machinery that is keeping him alive. We have pinpointed a date for the memorial service. Now we just wait for it.

I've had family and friends who were diagnosed with fatal diseases, known that they didn't have long to live. But I've never been in a situation where the end wasn't at least a bit of a surprise. People didn't know when they would be going, and even prepared for it, there was always that shock - yes, it had finally come.

I really don't know what to do with the information in my head. Yes, we knew he was irretrievably ill, but a part of you hangs onto illogical wisps of hope: some miracle cure is just around the corner, a Dr. House will suddenly appear and point out that the diagnosis is hopelessly wrong and if you only use this medication instead of that, everyone will be returned to happiness.

It doesn't happen. But it's hard to banish that bit of dream.

So, after this afternoon's conversation, Ferrett and I really couldn't talk about it - or it's more fair to say I couldn't talk about it; perhaps he could have. He worked a while, played a video game, and then left to go to the release party for the newest version of Magic: The Gathering. I went downstairs and sewed. Baby Rebecca may get her quilt before she goes off to kindergarten.

But it all seems so pointless. Get born, work, die. Occasionally remember to be grateful that we're not loping across savannas with lions culling us from the herd. Buy stuff to keep our overly adapted brains busy. No matter how much love or angst we feel, how much stuff we own, how many hours we devote to abstract jobs so that other people give us the abstract paper that allows us to pay for food, shelter, and a lot of abstract goods, we're just meatsacks with a predetermined fate. Why does it matter that I read a book, watch a movie, follow the news. As Doctor Who put it: "Life? A clever way of keeping meat fresh."

But we keep doing it. I will finish the quilt and give it to a child who will hopefully love it. I will read books and watch movies and visit with friends and laugh and love. It may be rather a pointless imperative, but really, it's the only one we've got.

1. Before embarking on movie watching in K&E's family room, I must, must, MUST tank up on antihistamines.

2. I have been reminded yet again why I can never, ever have a kitty. No matter how much I love them.

3. My period? Again? WTFF? Didn't I just have that???

4. When you are driving across town late at night and searching for something on the radio, the classical station inevitably has some odd, slow, atonal piece of music that just sounds like a bad movie sound track.

5. Can't sleep until antihistamines kick in. Clowns will eat smother me.

Considerably better. But I am glad to have a quiet day mostly at home. I will be all better tomorrow, I am certain.

Me to Ferrett this morning: I got up to go to the bathroom last night and if I'd had just a little more energy would have gotten my camera and taken a picture. I kind of had this cute Helena Bonham Carter thing going.

Ferrett: Damn, I wish you would have.

Me: Yeah, because now it's more of a Bellatrix LeStrange thing.

[take second glance in the mirror]

Me: Actually, now that I think about it, it's more of a Lyle Lovett thing....

Woke up this morning not in pain, but with that really fragile feeling - regarding one's own head as an eggshell sucks.

Did okay with the eggshell treatment until I realized that it had slowed me down so much that I was running late for court in Akron. So bolted into shower, raced to Akron, and then when that was done race out to Lorain for a new client.

Lorain, which is to the west. Straight into the sunshine. Of which there was loads.

I got through the client meeting with a smile on my face, but I definitely used up every single bit of energy available. Wow, it's fun. At least I'm home now, and can relax.

I'm at that point in migraine treatment that the megs don't have me completely knocked out, but their effectiveness is just beginning to decay. This is when things like going to the bathroom, putting some protein in my body, and sitting up are possible, and Ferrett pointed out the meme I apparently started. So let me write, eyes c;psed, about migraine.

The thing that loads of [eople do not understand about migraine is that the headache itself is unpleasant for byt almost tolerable. he rest of the stuff going on in the bodu is what makes it so crippling, Chages in light, souns, even iar pressure cause spkes of pain and severe nausea, yoour eyes burn and ache, and frequently there is an ocular component that some people percieve and snapping sparks and other as rippling vision,. For me it's ripples, and the whole world can look like I'm viewing it from under water.

For me, also, once the ripply part is gone, I can read for brief periods, but onl acutal paper, not my computer or my iPjone. This makes the tedium of the ;uning in dark room very still less horrible, partioularly since reading a few pages exhauss me and I am able to fall back to sleep.

I am liucky only to edperience the fullblown version of this ell once every couple years. Fpr thpse who suffer refularly, mt heart foes out to you.

Now I have exhausted my ability to be out of bed. More drugs, more sleep. I hope this ends by morning.

"After she finishes her bottle, I usually snuggle her and sing to her for a few minutes."

Left with those instructions I rocked little R. My mind wandered a bit, and she was suddenly done with the bottle and considering a windup to a fuss. I snuggled her to my shoulder and sang the first lullaby that came to mind.

Yup. The icon gives it away. I crooned her to slumber with this year's geek bedtime anthem.

The hardest part was not laughing at myself. The second hardest part was remembering other lullabies. My mind was blank.

Our friend Kat, who had major abdominal surgery about 10 days before Ferrett, is being readmitted to the hospital with a persistent infection. Please pray that IV antibiotics finally kick it out of her system. Positive attitudes welcome.

I'm going over this afternoon/evening to help with dinner and the getting the kids to bed, but there will be Rock Band here at the house.

I never realized until now that I regard the Flying Spaghetti Monster to somehow be in league with Cthulu....

--We're gonna be eating a lot of hot dogs for a while. At least the burgers can be broken down into meat bits and added to other things. Hot dogs? No matter what you do to them, they still taste like hot dogs.

--The dining room has been returned to normal, thanks to Magic night. Otherwise the table would still be in the corner with bags of chips piled on it.

--Instead, bags of chips are piled on the kitchen counter.

--We have enough paper products and plastic ware to get through at least three years of parties. Particularly since I keep rewashing the plastic glasses. Yeah, I know it's supposed to be disposable, but it seems like such a waste!

--Where I am going to store this surfeit of disposable party products is a conundrum not yet solved.

--I managed to clear a whole bunch of backed-up stuff off my desk today. There is still a stack. I feel a bit triumphant and a bit defeated.

--Room Erin occupied for a month? A mess. Office? A mess. Basement? Not as much of a mess, but still stuff that needs to be done. Our bedroom? A disaster area.

--On the laundry front, the whites and darks all got washed today. Tomorrow shall be sheets and towels. And actually folding. I hate folding.

--It was only about an hour ago that I remembered my original intent to take yesterday and today off. Not so much.

My newest pet peeve: people who see an entry referencing some ongoing crisis and are too damned lazy to take a moment to check if it's been referenced in previous entries. "OMG, what's going on?!" = "I am not actually interested enough to expend two mouse clicks on you."

Is there a word that is the opposite of schadenfreude? Something that means "irritation at the discomfort inflicted on others by thoughtless oafs"? I need that word.

Ferrett has now written about his birthday party, leaving me to write the run-up and the after-show.

The idea was indeed launched at book group when one member mentioned a kids' party at a bouncy castle place and the ever-awesome butterandjelly turned to me and gasped, "That would be perfect for Ferrett's birthday!"

And indeed, it was a terrific idea. It was something that he'd never done before - an absolute requirement - plus it was in town, which meant available to more of our friends.

Then it was a matter of finding a place. With the help of the mothers in book group, I located about 4 party places with inflatables. I looked at each of their websites. Apparently there is a requirement for these places to have dreadful websites, because for two of them I could never locate a telephone number and had to use their "contact us" forms in order to try and get ahold of them.

One of the places never got back to me at all. One actually answered the phone, but when I asked about adult parties gave me a flat "no," and hung up. One thought they might be able to accommodate us, but their bounce house had a weight limit of about 150 pounds per person, so really not adult friendly. One was quite receptive, had done a couple adult parties, and thought they could accommodate us, but was all the way down in Canton, about an hour drive south of here.

That left the place that never got back to me. What they did have was open bounce time on Fridays, so bec76 and I ventured out there on a Friday morning.

Yes,this was Zero Gravity. Yes, it was completely awesome. Yes, something had glitched in their "contact us" page and they hadn't gotten my email. Yes, they have added their phone number to the web page since then.

Bec and I fell in love with the place as soon as they took us into the space portal and switched on the flux capacitors. They had us at hello. And, as soon as we convinced them that we really were perfectly fine with the no alcohol rule, we had them with the notion of a 40th birthday party. It was just a matter of sending out invites and waiting for the day to arrive, no worries.

Okay, there were a few speedbumps along the way - major abdominal surgery for the birthday boy and a dear friend, for example - but the party itself was great fun. As as hanging out at our house afterward, playing Rock Band and visiting until 2:30 in the morning.

The July 4 barbecue got scaled down considerably. Late in the evening of the party I had told Bec and Jer (zodarzone) that I would call them to come on over when we got up. But my exhaustion- (and rum-)addled brain forgot that. So I was sitting here in something of a fog, wondering why they didn't show up, and missed their phone call from being in the shower.

Wonderful people that they are, they came over about 3, built my barbecue for me, and then left in time to get Bec to work.

My bad, sweeties. I'm sorry for being a dolt.

Our friend Jim (jumpinfool, but he doesn't actually post) then stumbled into the scene just in time to be put in charge of making fire and cooking meats. Thank you to him.

I was, to be honest, sort of a mess by that time. So much stress finally getting to me and leaving me pretty braindead. But thanks to kisekinotenshi, the condiments and cutlery and stuff got arranged on the table and there was food. And people came and went and ate and visited. Then kisekinotenshi discovered that she had an early shift on Sunday and had to leave to drive back to Cincinnati. That left Ferrett, me, Jim, aiela, and Eric and Kat's 5-year-old daughter for fireworks, Erin feeling too worn out to go. We went, the crowd was huge, we finally found parking, and we watched the awesome fireworks show.

And then there was hang-out time with my daughter before she left for Massachusetts, going to bed way too late again, and being braindead all yesterday.

The synapses, they begin to snap again. A little at a time. Many other people were at the party who aren't mentioned here. I will eventually put up a post identifying you all for each other. For now? Time for another nap.

Could we not have just one day? One?

Ferrett's stepdad - a completely awesome, wonderful guy - was diagnosed a year and a half ago with ALS.

They estimated he'd live for 3-5 years.

Instead, in the course of about 15 months, he's been reduced to surviving on a breathing machine. And he's tired. He wants to turn off the machine. He wants to be gone in two days.

I don't have words.

I want to write about the birthday party. But my brainmeats are flaccid.

Bouncy = fun.

More later.

Birthday party participants! Don't forget that you must have SOCKS!!!!

For today.

Tomorrow's barbecue is sock-optional.

Well, it wasn't the day I was anticipating. Slept in, but not terribly late, got some work stuff done.

And then had my post-Appendocalypse breakdown. Many tears.

After that, it was time to get in the shower and get Ferrett to his doctor's appointment, and to celebrate his first trip out of the house we stopped by the comic shop and grabbed a late lunch.

Then when we got home I was completely wiped out. See breakdown. Burning up all that adrenaline has a cost. I fell asleep from about 5:30 until 8, then got up and made a little dinner.

I didn't sew, and I didn't clean. Now I'm debating how much we will actually need that particular square footage of basement family room. Mostly I just want to go back to bed.

Please take a moment to note the icon attached to this entry. The boat depicted in that icon is actually owned by someone we know, purchased over the weekend by my daughter's best friend. Fortunately, she paid the princely sum of $50 for the tub, which is about what it's worth in kindling.

But when she sent the picture to Erin, I demanded that she forward it to me so that I could turn it into a "Fail Boat" icon. Because, really, other than one actually sinking, boats don't get much more fail than this.

After making the icon, I decided to log onto Facebook and upload it at as a picture, then tag Erin with it, as I'd promised to provide her with the finished icon. Much to my surprise, I discovered that my darling daughter had helped herself to a cup of internet on this computer - despite having her own laptop - and she was still logged into Facebook. Not only that, she was mid-chat with someone.

Well. A mother really can't bypass so rare an opportunity to humiliate her 20-something daughter. It's a violation of the maternal charter. So I uploaded the picture with a caption that read, "This is what happens when you leave yourself signed in on your mother's computer."

Then I proceeded to introduce myself to her chat buddy.

I have to say, the screaming laughter of horrified amusement coming from the other room was worth every bit of the effort involved.

And really, could there have been a better inaugural voyage for the Fail Boat icon?

Finished a HUGE contract project tonight. The deadline was June 30, but I got an extension into next week because of Ferrett's surgery. Getting it done before this weekend, though, was what I really wanted, and lo, it are finished.

Now if I could only go to sleep.

Spent some quality time with my kiddo. She is leaving on Sunday, and a month of hospital chaos, between Ferrett and Kat, was not the ideal summer plan. I feel bad because she has been lonely and at loose ends - but phenomenally helpful, for which I will always be massively grateful - during this trip.

On Friday, people will arrive. I have handled most of the necessary shopping and planning for the events. Cleaning remains to be done, but actually my biggest priority for tomorrow - other than getting Ferrett to his doctor's appointment - will be sewing. I have a quilt top laid out on the floor in the family room and it needs to be put together to make room for an air mattress.

How awesome that tomorrow's biggest priority is a hobby.

I'm in that post-deadline adrenaline haze now, and trying to settle down enough to actually sleep. There's not much of that left of the night, though, is there. ...

Man. Here I was thinking, "gosh, I'm getting my equilibrium back, feel much better today."

Then the power cord for my laptop crapped out - the mechanical failure that is frayed wires. Fortunately, I noticed soon enough to save and back up everything, and now I just have to go to Best Buy and cough up a Benjamin to replace it.

Irritating, but not actually a "deal." Except my body is having a total panic attack about it. Frontal brain is chill, monkey brain is running from tigers. Heart is pounding, respiration is up, hands are shaking. Frontal brain and monkey brain are clearly not on speaking terms just now.

Fascinating, if not particularly comfy.

The best sign of things being better: I slept in the same bed with my wonderful hubby last night. We've switched sides so that I'm on his right, and I can't say that it was really deep sleep for either of us, since I was continually aware of trying to stay still and not jostle him and he was continually skittish of an accidentally-flung arm across his belly. But despite all that, it was wonderful to fall asleep on his shoulder.

Thank you all for your words of insight and encouragement when I was mid-freakout yesterday. Today is better - better enough that I realize that I am probably not completely done with freakouts. But I will survive and get through this.

Thanks, too, to my awesome girlfriend, Bec, who held me and petted me while I got some of the weepy out yesterday afternoon. I'm glad to have you in my life, dear.

He's home, he's safe. The coming week is relatively unbusy.

Why the hell is my heart racing now??? What's the anxiety attack all about???

I keep finding myself holding my breath and feeling like my options are "scream" or "cry."

Alas, my option is actually, "Get ready and go to court."

We are home and Ferrett is tucked into bed. I started reading the supportive comments on my last entry and just got completely emotionally overwhelmed. I'm usually pretty level-headed in a crisis, but I'm really struggling with this one.

Thank you to Jim and Genevieve for taxi services - we have a very low-slung car, and their high one made Ferrett's transition to the house massively easier.

Apologies to all and sundry who have been ignored, what with no Magic night and no Rock Band night. With luck, such fun will return in just a few weeks.

And thank you to everyone who has offered help. Believe me, I won't hesitate to take you up on those offers once I've had a decent night's sleep and can begin to think straight again.

Ferrett: The boy's got stamina - up and walking, eating real food. Considering they basically pressure washed his innards yesterday, I'm impressed as hell.

Me: Home for the evening, finding myself emotionally exhausted and slightly weepy. Was going to stay up late working, but managed to reschedule all crisis deadlines for tomorrow. May just watch Iolanthe and go to bed early.

The surgeon estimates that Ferrett's appendix burst on Saturday. Saturday. How he managed to have a gut full of gunk for three full days and not even run a fever, let alone succumb to peritonitis and septicemia, amazes me. By all rights, I could easily be a widow now.

Thinking about that brought my only tears in all this. Tears of gratitude and relief.

Getting ready to leave the house and leave Erin here by herself with a bunch of work.

Me: I feel bad leaving you alone like this.

Erin: I came out here to work, Mom. It's okay.

Me: But still. I feel guilty.

Erin: You feel guilty leaving me alone to go visit your husband in the hospital? Don't feel guilty, feel stupid!

....

Yeah, getting in the shower now.

I can't possibly personally answer all the well-wishes I've received in the last 24 hours, but I have read and appreciated each and every one of them.

Got about 5 hours of sleep before the phone rang, now grabbing shower and heading back to hospital.

But still winding down. When you're sitting with a loved one in post-op, there is enough attention to monitoring and helping that you don't really have time to think about the possible consequences of a situation.

It's when you get home and it's quiet that your mind goes to work.

Fortunately no appointments or court tomorrow, but Thursday and Friday are absolutely packed. I have to get some sleep.

Don't like my weasel being alone in the hospital without me....

Not appendectomy tomorrow. Appendectomy TODAY.

Ferrett went to the doctor today, who immediately sent him to hospital for a CT scan and bloodwork to determine if he has to have an appendectomy tomorrow. Because life hasn't been interesting enough this year....

No matter how yucky one feels, there comes a point on a sunny summer day, when you're almost a week into a crappy cold, when you can't stand it anymore.

This afternoon, I hit that point.

Erin was understandably antsy - this hasn't hit her yet, and she's used to being active. While I was doing battle with my iPhone she was bouncing on the couch, just about spinning with pent-up energy. I couldn't blame her; it was gorgeous out.

When I finally got the phone done, I was ready to escape computers myself. So I suggested we drive down to the lakefront. When we got to the park, though, there was a wedding. So we wandered through Rocky River and peeked at the little shops. Then we took a drive through the park and ended up going into Olmsted Falls. We had dinner and then, fortified with a drink, I decided to take her down and show her the river.

We ended up spending an hour scrambling over rocks, exploring nooks and crannies, and having a great time. It was great, and by the time we climbed up out of the little valley, I was happily flushed and smiling.

Of course, as soon as the adrenaline wore off, I was sweaty and shaking and coughing my lungs up. But somehow I still feel better than I did earlier. Weird, that.

Dear Apple: When downloading a new OS for my phone, I'd appreciate it if you'd mention that I need the newest version of iTunes before I can update. Right now my iPhone is a shiny paperweight because I didn't jump through your hoops in the right order.

I have trouble getting it through my head that iTunes is the underlying base of this dog-and-pony show. I think of it as optional, recreational software. Dumb.

Wow. Just had the house hit by ... thunder? Could hear it rolling toward us for several seconds, then all the windows shook as it roared over the house. And they kept shaking, for at least 10 seconds. Then it slowly rolled away. We could hear it for a total of at least a minute and a half - a long time for such things. Weird.

In other news, still not king sick. Woke up several times in the night hacking and gasping around phlegm - lovely to drown oneself in mucus. And then, because why not, my period. Must learn that astral travel thing - I need a vacation from my body.

I get to use my new icon for being sick.

Uh...yay?

At the suggestion of greybeta, I submitted condunce to Urban Dictionary.

They immediately published it!

Tell your friends. Use it in daily conversation. Add it to your resume: 5 years experience as Technical Conduncer.

When Ferrett began working at Borders and got access to the American Library Association's software, one of the first authors he looked up was S. Morgenstern.

In the years that followed, he had the amusement of catching other new employees attempting to locate S. Morgenstern.

You see, William Goldman's The Princess Bride is credited as an abridged version of "S. Morgenstern's Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure." So people who loved Goldman's book wanted to read it in the original.

Except there is no original. The longer book alluded to is a fiction of Goldman's. To the deep disappointment of many.

In parallel fashion, many readers of Cathrynne Valente's Palimpsest have asked anxiously after the book of fairytales referenced, The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making. Like Goldman's creation, that book did not exist. To the deep disappointment of many.

Unlike Goldman, Cat has heard the clamorings of both her fans and her pocketbook, and set forth on that circumnavigation.

You can come along for the ride.

The first chapter of The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making is now available. And, like everything else that Cat writes, reading it is like swimming in velvet made out of words. Her evocative language envelops the reader in sensation, and a dry wit underlies the story. Like the best of young adult fiction, there is something satisfying for both an innocent audience and an older and wiser one.

The book will update, chapter by chapter, on Mondays. It is available free for the reading, with donations requested. It is a labor of love and great skill and deserves to be rewarded. If you read it and love it, then consider buying some of her other books as well.



Spread the word, and let's all go to fairyland with September.

The other day we were discussing the act of taking difficult concepts and summarizing them in such a way that people who demand explanations but don't really want to take the time or effort to self-educate can grasp them.

I came up with the perfect word for the process: condunce

So the next time your boss wants you to summarize an 18-month project into a single paragraph that leaves him reassured and with no questions at all, just remember that he's asking you to condunce it. Or for the condunced version.

Ferrett was scheduled - again - for his major dental surgery tomorrow.

They just called and canceled it - again. For the same damned reason as before.

For a reschedule date? They offered July 2. The day before his birthday. Yeah, THAT ain't happenin'.

So he's not going to get the bone graft until at least July 21. And then only if they don't cancel again.

Grrr.

On a slightly related note, if you have not responded the the birthday Evite, please do so. I'm trying to get an idea of how many people will be around so as to plan the July 4 picnic - Evites for the picnic will only go out to folks that answered yes or maybe to the July 3 party.

If you wanted to get an Evite and didn't receive one, then email me with your email address. Send to zoethe at yahoo dot com. If you received one, forgot about it, and want me to resend, you can just comment here and I will take care of it.

The shit-flipping that I did last night? That was completely *my* shit-flipping. It was what upset *me*. Ferrett's reasons for deleting his journal were not my reasons for flipping out.

Here are his reasons, from him:

I really didn't want to do this, but I'm making one brief announcement here.

I'm not upset by people who stay on the attack. In the incident in
question, which I really would have preferred not to be blown up into
something bigger than it was, the issue was not the folks who were angry
enough to shut down dialogues. (And they weren't particularly bad, either,
mostly civil.)

I was upset by the people I cared about who were hurt.

The issue is that I'm tired of making posts that say the exact opposite of
what I feel. I'm tired of hurting people who don't deserve it. I'm tired
of saying things which, due to poor wording or misguided humor or whatever
other numerous flaws I have, manage to keep kicking good, wonderful people
in the heart.

Over the past sixteen months, I've been dealing with the increasing feeling
that my journal is just a place that serves to make me look like a fool,
foster opinions I don't stand behind, and injure people. I'm starting to
hurt every time I hit the "post" button, wondering what asshole thing I'll
missay this time. And just when I think I'm okay, I screw up again.

My goal is, and has always been, to promote harmony, peace, love,
acceptance, and tolerance. I just wish I could do better at that. And I'm
sorry that I don't.

Thank you for the words of support - too many to thank you all personally, but each one has been read and appreciated.

Okay, now that the blind fury is over, I have some comments to make on the issue. For the sake of brevity, when I use the word "group," I am referring to underprivileged races, classes, genders, preferences, religions, ethnicities, etc. Also, I admit that I am privileged to be white and middle class. As a female bi poly pagan, I think I do fall into some underprivileged categories as well.

What I am, most of all, is interested in actual progress toward equality.

First of all, absolutely I agree that no group should be subject to derision or intentional injury. That's just plain wrong. But there is a danger that if every observation or comment made by persons of privilege is subject to being called derision or intentional injury, that group of people will be completely silenced on the issue.

Then who do you have left speaking? Members of the group, and the people who actively hate and do intentionally want to hurt the members of the group. The middle steps back out of fear that offers of support will be met with anger and accusation. And losing the middle doesn't help any cause.

Second, when a person who is in that middle and known to be sympathetic to underprivileged groups blunders and says something offensive, that should be a teachable moment. Sometimes it's hard to see where a line is crossed if one just plain hasn't considered that a line might exist. Certainly, the offense should be called out, and there may be some discussion and debate to help the person understand why something is offensive.

But again, if the reaction is unrelenting vitriol, the difference between "us" and "them" is emphasized and another potential ally may just step back and refuse to even address the issue.

Third, accepting a sincere apology gracefully is much more beneficial than continued browbeating. That's obvious in individual relationships: if I am offended by something, get an apology, and then keep badgering about how offended I am, the person who has apologized is going to feel under attack and probably also feel that there are now "sides" and s/he is on the opposite side of me. People do not respond well to being attacked, and a lot of them just throw up their hands and say, "screw it; there's no making these people happy." Taking the attitude of "that's too damned bad; they have privilege and should just take it" might make one feel better, but it's not helping change minds.

Once again, gulfs are being entrenched instead of bridges built. Now, one might well ask, "Why is it our job, as the nonprivileged, to build bridges to the privileged?" And all I can say is, if not us, then who?

The personal is political. A presidential candidate whose message was "you're all idiots and should do things my way" is not going to get very far. Coalition building requires reaching out in a way that one can be heard, and fostering relationships through knowledge and community. And accepting that people who are learning will make mistakes.

Or, to quote my dear old gramma, "You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar."