Break free of the color recession!

 

Milkos | Deposit Photos

Why is this woman sad? I'd guess it's because she's wearing neutral-toned clothing in a neutral-toned room. But maybe that's just me.

Alert hearth/myth readers know I've complained about the neutralization of our interiors many times over the years. (I won't bore you with links. Trust me when I say there are a lot of them.) I've blamed it on HGTV, but it's not just me -- and it's not just interiors. I was chatting with a friend about textiles today. We talked about how in times long past, the rich and powerful dressed in purple and red because the dyes were so expensive. Clothing in saturated colors conveyed status; poor folks wore neutral colors. But nowadays, it's flipped: the wealthy are wearing black, grays and tans, and colorful clothes are for lesser folks.

Cars, too, have become endlessly neutral. An article in The Atlantic this week (that should be a gift link) quotes a study that tracks new car colors. In 2004, the share of new cars manufactured in greyscale colors was 60 percent; in 2023, it was 80 percent. Wonder why nearly every car you see on the road is some variation of black, gray, or white? Now you know.

The homogenization of the American color palette began around the end of World War II, according to The Atlantic article, when developers needed to build new housing stock fast for returning veterans. Limiting the housing styles in a subdivision and the colors of those new houses was a way to meet demand quickly. Then HOAs decreed that uniformity was best. (And doesn't it just figure that HOAs would be part of the problem?)

As for boring car colors, the article puts part of the blame on federal environmental legislation passed in the 1970s, including the Clean Air Act of 1970. Lacquer paints didn't meet the new pollution standards, and more ecologically acceptable paints were more expensive, so manufacturers began limiting the colors that cars came in. 

We've been convinced over the years that neutral colors are better for resale value for both cars and houses, but surveys have shown that colorful finishes actually sell better. Yet here we are, stuck in grayland, even though it could be taking a toll on our mental health. From the article: "A review last year of more than 100 studies of the effect of color on emotion found that gray consistently triggered fatigue, boredom, or sadness." 

This neutralization of our world has been going on for decades now. Color experts, according to the article, think the myths about bland colors being best have become self-fulfilling. They don't believe bright colors will be coming back to our environments anytime soon. 

My friends, you know what to do.

As for me, once my leaky solar windows are fixed next year and the damage from the leaks is repaired, I am drenching my living room in this specific shade of turquoise blue. I mean it.

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These moments of color-drenched blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. No more gray!

Why I haven't been collecting Navajo rugs.

I don't mean to turn this into a fiber arts blog, but here we are. I'll try to find something else to talk about next week.

This is the 36th year that the Museum of New Mexico Foundation has run a Navajo rug auction as a fundraiser. It's always in the courtyard between the Palace of the Governors and the New Mexico History Museum (except for during COVID, when they did it virtually). This year's took place yesterday. 

I would love to own a Navajo rug. However, they are out of my budget. How far out, you ask? Well, I went to the preview yesterday morning to give you a taste. And also for the eye candy.

Lynne Cantwell 2026

I'm kind of looking for a new rug for my living room to replace the 8' by 10' polypropolene rug I have now. That blue one at the top of the rack could work, although it would be a little small at 52" by 72". Navajo rugs come in a number of different regional styles. This one is Moki (or Moqui) style, and the weaver is Deanna Begay. The price they estimated was between $6,000 and $9,000.

That's actually not bad for a rug that size. Here's a bigger one -- 56" by 100" -- that I liked a lot. It's Teec Nos Pos style. The tag shows the weaver, Elsie Begay, with the full rug.

Lynne Cantwell 2026

The cost? Between $20,000 and $30,000. But it's huge. And look at the work she put into it! It must have taken her forever to weave. Keep in mind that all of these rugs are handwoven.

I can do stripes. I can do solid colors. I'd go mad doing something like that one.

Or like this one. It's Chinle style. The colors aren't the same as more traditional rugs, but it's still beautiful, right? The weaver is Sylvia Baldwin, I think the tag says; the rug is not quite 2' by 3', and the estimated price is between $1,300 and $1,900. 

Lynne Cantwell 2026

All those little diamonds, yeesh. Totally worth the money.

Here are a couple of pictorial rugs. The bottom one features yei, or Navajo gods/spirits; the top one shows yeibichai, or humans acting as yei during a ceremony. The tag on the yeibichai rug says it's 17" by 38" and was priced between $700 and $1,300. I could almost afford that, if the auction price didn't go much higher. 

Lynne Cantwell 2026

There were so many beautiful rugs. The last one I'll share is this black, tan and blue one. I really liked it. Like, really liked it. It's Sanostee style, which Mama Google tells me is similar to Two Grey Hills, and it's 32" by 48". The weaver is Bessie Dan. That's her in the photo on the tag, holding up this rug. It's priced between $1,600 and $2,400.

Lynne Cantwell 2026

So maybe if I saved up for a year or two. Or in the case of something like that Teec Nos Pos rug, a lifetime or two.

After my tour of the auction preview, I checked out the history museum gift shop. At least they had stuff in my price range.

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If I were serious about getting a Navajo rug, there's a community auction every month in Crownpoint, NM, near Gallup, that I would probably check out. You buy directly from the weavers there.

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Navajo rugs are all wool. They are meant to be walked on, although the pictorials are often hung on a wall.

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These moments of beautiful but expensive blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Just appreciate the beauty; don't think about the price...

Molas: wearable Indigenous art.

I've been fascinated with molas since I first heard about them in a Spanish class in college. So when I heard an exhibit of molas had opened at El Museo Cultural here in Santa Fe, I had to go.

What's a mola? It's an intricately hand-sewn blouse panel created by the Guna (formerly known as the Kuna) Indians in Panama: 

Lynne Cantwell 2026

The person creating the top makes two more-or-less identical panels, one for the front of the blouse and one for the back. Usually today, you see the panels already separated from the rest of the blouse. The tops aren't everyday wear, and some of them have spiritual elements. But over the years, as the art form became better known, some artists began making molas for trade. I'm pretty sure these two musical panels fall into that category. 

Lynne Cantwell 2026

Here's a closeup of one of the stringed instruments in the lower panel above, so you can see why I think molas are so cool. The little squares and some of the strips are applique, or sewn on top separately. But a lot of the stripes are reverse applique -- that is, several pieces of fabric in different colors are stacked atop each other, the layers are cut away to reveal the color underneath, and the edges are hand-stitched down. The Guna also embroider some details. 

Lynne Cantwell 2026

Each shirt takes between 60 and 80 hours to sew. That's a lot of hand sewing.

Sometimes, as here, the work seems abstract until you look more closely. I'm definitely seeing birds and at least one frog.

Lynne Cantwell 2026

Most of the Guna live in Gunayala (the former San Blas Islands), but some live in the jungle on the mainland. These Guna haven't had as much contact with outsiders, so their work is wilder and less symmetrical. Here's one example. 

Lynne Cantwell 2026

This exhibit contains just a small selection from the collection of Kit and Valerie Kapp. Kit took tourists on sailboat tours in the Caribbean between 1960 and 1971, and while living in Panama, he became fascinated with Guna culture and art. In all, he and his wife Valerie collected more than 5,000 mola textiles, as well as hundreds of carved healing figurines and other items. It wasn't until after Kit died that Valerie realized the extent of the collection. She and her supporters are now raising money to fund a research center and museum for Indigenous art in Panama City. 

In the meantime, parts of the collection are shown in exhibits like this one. It's called "Angels, Mermaids and Umbrellas: The spiritual, whimsical, wonderful art of the Guna people of Panama", and it's open at El Museo Cultural de Santa Fe in the Railyard until the end of August.

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I can see parallels between the Gunas' use of color and the dyed yarn we make and use at El Rancho de las Golondrinas. Some people seem to think that folks in more primitive times and cultures lived in brown, black and white, but it's not true. The Guna obviously revel in brightly colored fabrics. And all of the natural dyes we use at the ranch today were available in the 1600s and even before that. Bright colors are not a modern thing.

Which makes it kind of ironic that interior decorators today want everything to be in shades of beige or gray (if "greige" isn't a made-up concept, I don't know what is), with maybe a "pop of color" here and there. To that, I say, ho-hum.

***

These moments of fun-filled blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Use more color! Have more fun!

 


 

Roman shade success; Medicare-for-All politics; and a portal opens, maybe.

The Roman shade project is done, huzzah! I installed the shade for the bedroom window yesterday morning. 

Lynne Cantwell 2026

As a reminder, this was the old, ugly shade. I think the new one is a vast improvement. 

Lynne Cantwell 2026

Now that I've done two of these, I'm putting this in the "projects to never do again" category*. The mechanics were straightforward enough, but hanging this shade by myself was a challenge because it was so wide. At one point I had thought about doing two shades, one for each windowpane; it would have been easier to hang two shorter ones by myself. But now that the single long shade is up, I'm not inclined to take it down and start over. At all.

I made this installation harder on myself by forgetting to take down the old shade before screwing the new one to the wall. I just got so excited to get the new shade up that I forgot. The old one used the same clip-in system as the shade in the office/craft room, but there's not a lot of clearance for a screwdriver because the clip tilts in toward the room, and having to keep the new shade out of the way didn't make the process any easier. I guess I could have tried using pliers to bend the clip back and out of the way, since I was going to throw the brackets away; too bad I didn't think of that until just now.

If you're thinking of sewing a Roman shade for yourself, I highly recommend getting this gadget or making one out of a nine-inch length of thin wire you happen to have around the house. Basically, it's a needle threader for blinds and shades. I wouldn't have bothered to get it except that I was ordering some other stuff from this vendor, and it was a cheap add-on. I ended up being very glad I had it. It made the process of threading the blind cord through the cord lock take seconds rather than minutes. 

I like the softness of the new shades much better than the industrial clunkiness of the old metal shades, and of course the new colors work better than that dirty beige. So all in all, I'm glad I made these shades.

And one thing I realized while making the shades is that I had fun figuring out all the steps. Life has gotten pretty repetitive for me -- dare I say boring -- lately. This provided me with a challenge, and I like challenges (within reason). 

So I might be scouting around the house for new challenges to take on. But I'm still going to pay somebody to convert the tub/shower combo to just a shower. I'm not completely crazy.

***

* I've posted several times over the years about various projects, often knitted ones: "It's done, and I'm never doing it again." Often, after some time has passed, I end up doing another project like the one I said I'd never do again. So feel free to take my claim above with a large grain of salt.

***

That's enough about Roman shades. On to part two.

I spotted this article from Vox in my Apple News feed earlier today: "Medicare-for-all has a doctor problem". The author, Eric Levitz, attempts to poke holes in Michigan Democratic Senate candidate Abdul El-Sayed's support of Medicare for All by saying we would have to make changes in our current healthcare payment system for it to be fair to doctors. Healthcare professionals in the US are much better paid than those in countries that have single-payer healthcare systems, and something would have to be done, he says, to make sure they wouldn't have to take a pay cut.

He cites a report in the Washington Free Beacon that claims El-Sayed's partner, a psychiatrist in private practice, doesn't accept Medicare, presumably because Medicare's reimbursement rates aren't high enough. And then he says:

According to a widely cited 2018 analysis by the economist Charles Blahous, if a single-payer system kept provider payments constant, national health spending would rise by $3.25 trillion over a decade, even with administrative savings taken into account. By contrast, if all providers were forced to accept Medicare's rates, health spending would actually fall by $2.05 trillion over the same period.

So I looked up Charles Blahous. He is a senior research strategist at the Mercatus Center at George Mason University; previously, he was deputy director of  the National Economic Council under President Bush the Younger and has also been associated with the Hoover Institution, a right-leaning think tank that's part of Stanford University (weirdly, as Stanford is pretty liberal). 

Then I looked up whether the Washington Free Beacon leans right or left. Sure enough, adfontesmedia.com says it has a strong right bias and rates it as mixed when it comes to reliability. 

I am all for examining both sides of an issue. But I also think it's important to be clear about where your sources fall on the political spectrum when you're reporting on political issues, especially in these times, and Levitz doesn't. I'm not inclined to take a libertarian-leaning economist's opinion that Medicare for All is unworkable, and I sure as hell would not reference a hit piece in a far-right publication if I were writing a supposedly even-handed report.

Levitz does suggest some incremental changes to make a single-payer system more palatable in the long run, including instituting state-level caps on healthcare payment rates and removing hurdles that prevent doctors trained abroad to easily set up shop in the US. But I think he too quickly dismisses the profound impact that doing away with private insurance would have on our healthcare system. And doctors may not have to take as much of a pay cut as right-leaning economists claim, once the financial barriers to healthcare are lifted and everyone can afford to go to the doctor when they need to. Plus the elimination of the byzantine system of today would not only be good for doctors, but for patients, too.

Yes, people's taxes would go up to support a single-payer system, but the increase would be offset by the loss of the premium/copay/coinsurance morass we're currently slogging through. Are there figures on how much of an offset? Levitz doesn't say.

A lot of doctors already support a single-payer system -- between 49% and 59%, depending on who's doing the survey and how the questions are asked.

Let's see a study from Medicare-for-All proponents that answers the Blahous analysis. Then we can make a better decision on whether to go forward.

EDITED TO ADD: Levitz wouldn't have had to look very far to find a response to Blahous from Medicare-for-All proponents. Mama Google found this one for me in just a few seconds.

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Finally: there's reportedly a seismic shift brewing this week due to an annual astrological phenomenon known as the Lion's Gate. It happens between this Tuesday and August 12th, with the big punch on August 8th. This year's is supposed to be especially intense due to Jupiter's conjunction with the Sun in Leo on the date of the full moon this Wednesday, and particulary auspicious because the date of the portal opening, 8/8/2026, reduces via numerology to 8, a number associated with abundance and with balance between the physical and the spiritual.

I'm not an astrology stan, and I haven't dabbled in numerology for decades, but I thought I'd mention this thing since I keep hearing about it. You can find more info on the annual Lion's Gate here.

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These moments of bloggy pros and cons have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell, who hopes that good things will come through the Lion's Gate because honey, we are due.

Roman shades progress; and gifted kids when they grow up.

It's next weekend, and the first Roman shade is done, including the installation. Here's the proof: 

Lynne Cantwell 2026

I spent a lot of time stressing over the installation process: how to position the pulleys and cord lock device, whether I should have bought a wider mounting board, where to stick the darn thing on the wall, how hard it would be to mount it with the angle brackets with the shade attached, and on and on. Turned out it was not nearly as hard as I thought it would be. The shade is actually pretty light, weight-wise, so I was able to duck under it to get to the angle brackets. And I had cut the fabric so that screwing it to the top of the window frame was the perfect length, which bypassed my concerns about finding studs in the wall to screw into and/or installing wall anchors.

Getting the old shade down was also pretty easy. My old shades aren't mounted the normal way; instead there's a tab that clips them into the hanging bracket. I shoved a screwdriver into a slot in the tab and pushed it toward the window to release the clip, and poof, down came the blind.

In short, the process was easier than I expected it to be. And now that I know what I'm doing, more or less, the bedroom shade is going much faster. I forgot to get a photo of the office window before I took the old blind down, but here's a "before" shot of the bedroom window. I guess that 35 years ago, when the rooms were all varying shades of tan, these beige shades looked great. Not so much anymore. 

Lynne Cantwell 2026

This window is large enough that I'm having to lay out the new shade on the bed to pin it. Tigs, of course, is helping. 

"Is comfy, Mama. What you mean, is going on the window?"
Lynne Cantwell 2026

This afternoon, I sewed on all the rings, attached the weight rod, and sewed the velcro to the top. Next step is stringing it all up to the to-be-assembled header board. The cords and hanging hardware may have to wait 'til next Saturday, but we'll see how the week goes.

***

I really miss Jo-Ann Fabrics. Wikipedia says it began as a single fabric store in Cleveland in 1943, eventually growing to a national chain. But its fortunes rose and fell over the years with the popularity of sewing as a craft, and toward the end, it was diversifying its merchandise line to encompass other crafts and home decor items. Eventually, the whole thing shut down last year when the company couldn't find a buyer. Wikipedia says that Michaels bought the company's intellectual property and private labels. But with the exception of an expanded fabric department, I don't see much evidence of that, at least at our Santa Fe Michaels. And when I say "expanded", I mean their fabric inventory is maybe 15 percent of what Jo-Ann carried.

Multiple times during this process, I thought about how easy it would have been to gather everything I needed with a single trip to Jo-Ann: "Oh, I need thread to match the blue fabric; guess that's a trip to Michaels now. Oh, I need sew-on velcro by the yard; guess I'm buying multiple precut packs from Michaels instead. Oh, I need pulleys and a cord lock for each window; I bet Jo-Ann would have carried them -- they carried upholstery fabrics and notions -- but it looks like my choices now are either Amazon or random places on the internet I've never done business with before."

I realize I'm part of the problem. I quit sewing clothing decades ago, when fabric prices rose to the point where it was cheaper to buy ready-made clothing than make my own, despite the lure of wearing a one-of-a-kind garment created by my own hands. But sometimes, damn it, you want to avoid the overpriced, mass-produced stuff like "custom" Roman blinds and make something really custom. Small, independent fabric stores still exist, but it seems like most of them cater to quilters, with maybe some clothing fabrics on the side. That's not helpful for the kinds of things I'm interested in sewing these days.

I'll be done with this project in another week or so, and then I'm sure my sewing machine will go back to gathering dust in the closet. It's just a shame, that's all.

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If you're only here for the Roman shade saga, you can stop here. The rest is about smart kids when they grow up.

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There's an article in New Scientist this week about giftedness and how gifted kids turn out as adults. Alas, you have to subscribe to read the whole thing; I read it as part of my Apple News subscription (and btw, if you have an iPhone, Apple News is a terrific news aggregator and worth the monthly subscription fee). 

Kids who are labeled gifted have probably heard the derisive term, "early ripe, early rot". I sure did (from my brother, among others). But this article talks about studies that have tracked intellectually gifted kids into adulthood. The conclusion? 

Far from growing into troubled adults, many gifted individuals appear to flourish later in life. Long-term studies suggest they are more likely than average to achieve professional success and, contrary to popular stereotypes, often enjoy better mental health. Scientists are also starting to understand what makes gifted brains so exceptional, finding that they are better integrated and can process information more efficiently..."

And then it goes into the current debate over whether giftedness is just another form of neurodiversity, which I've already bitched about on this blog. Thankfully, for me at least, the authors of this article have found people to refute that argument:

Yet neurodivergence tends to describe neurodevelopmental conditions, which can create functional problems in everyday life, such as inattention, emotional dysregulation or hyperactivity. That doesn't seem to be the case for gifted children. "It is simply on the higher end in a spectrum of human intelligence," says Mimi Wellisch, a psychologist based in Australia who has published on gifted children extensively... Problems with behaviour "are unlikely to be a byproduct of giftedness," she says.

As for gifted-kids-as-adults, a 2020 study headed by David Lubinski, a professor of psychology at Vanderbilt University, looked at the outcomes for 50-year-olds who were identified as mathematically gifted as kids, finding them to have a greater sense of well-being than non-gifted folks. In 2025, another team headed by Lubinski talked with 50-year-old former gifted kids, and "around half reported experiencing boredom and frustration in mixed-ability classes." And in terms of outcomes, Lubinski found in 2013, when comparing people who skipped a grade with those who didn't, 27 percent of kids who had skipped a grade later earned a Ph.D., compared with 15 percent of kids who hadn't. 

Lubinski says that based on his findings, the current fashion to remove educational supports specifically aimed at gifted kids in the name of treating everybody the same (so as to not make gifted kids feel pressured to achieve) is unfair, and could even be considered a form of prejudice. 

Which is pretty much what I said in my blog post last year.

The article also touches on complaints about the cultural problems regarding IQ tests and other methods being developed to identify gifted individuals, but this post has already gone on long enough. If you have any interest in the topic of giftedness, I recommend tracking down this article. It's a good one. And not just because it quotes researchers who agree with me.

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These moments of long-winded blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell, who doesn't have a Ph.D. but might get one someday. Who knows?

Things in progress.

So the big news today, of course, is the death of South Carolina Republican Senator Lindsey Graham. A medical examiner's report released this evening says he died of a tear in his aorta, likely caused by atherosclerosis, but we'll know more when the report is finalized in a couple of weeks. 

Republicans still control the Senate, even with Graham gone, but the math will be a titch harder until his replacement is named. There are still questions lingering about the condition of Kentucky Senator Mitch McConnell, too, including about a photo released by his office today that looks like a retread from several years ago. If it turns out the worst is true about him, the GOP will be holding onto Senate control by just one seat until their replacements come on board. 

Both McConnell and Graham knew that Trump would be bad news for the country if elected, but when push came to shove, neither one stepped up to block his crazy ideas from becoming law. That's not the legacy I'd want to have.

***

Besides those news stories still in progress, I have not yet finished the Roman shades for my bedroom and office/craft room. Progress has been made: all the fabric for both is cut, and most of the sewing is done on the shade for the office/craft room. There's still a fair bit of work ahead on that shade, though, including all the hardware. I'd be farther along if I hadn't played hooky yesterday. But in my defense, I also went to the hardware store, bought the board for the hardware for both shades, and got the store to cut it to the lengths I need. 

I will not be doing a tutorial for this project; if you're after step-by-step directions, there are about a squintillion videos out there, some more useful than others. (I'm actually using one method for the office/craft room shade and a different one for the bedroom shade.)

If you've never bought any fabric from Spoonflower, I can tell you that it's different experience than going to the fabric store. First, there's no instant gratification; you put in your order and it takes them a week or two to print it on your preferred fabric and send it to you. Their selvedges are huge compared to fabric from a store, but the width of printed fabric they say you'll get is the size you get (I measured mine to be sure). And their order control system gave me a little thrill. 

Lynne Cantwell | July 2026

Both fabrics I received are excellent quality. The one in the photo above is a performance linen. The downside is that it's polyester, and it ravels like crazy. The lining fabric I bought (from a different online vendor) is also polyester, and it too ravels like crazy. That's making me ... crazy. Didn't seem to bother Tigs, though. 

Lynne Cantwell | July 2026

(Then he plopped his butt down on it and I had to chase him away. Then I stepped on his tail. Poor little guy.)

The other fabric I purchased is a cotton sateen, which should have been easier to manage than those slippery polyesters, except it's 116 inches wide. Cutting all of this stuff has been an adventure -- my dining room table is round and only 42 inches wide. I had to spend a lot of time shifting the fabric and the cutting mat and the fabric and the cutting mat and... I kept thinking how nice it would be to have one of those ginormous work tables that I saw in one how-to video. Just lay it all out flat and cut it, boom, done. Alas.

Once all the fabric was cut, I had to iron it. I usually don't bother with ironing fabric when I sew. I know you're supposed to, but you're also supposed to wash it before you cut it, and you're supposed to iron all your seams flat, and I don't do any of that stuff, either. But I was convinced by one of the tutorials that said if you don't get those creases out now, you'll be seeing them every time you look at your shade once it's done. So there I was, slaving over a steam iron in my 80-degree dining room. 

I used to laugh at my mother for spending summer afternoons sweating over a hot iron to press her sheets and dish towels. Dish towels, for godsakes! Ever since then, I've said that if God wanted us to iron, She wouldn't have invented permanent press. I'm sure that today both She and my mother were laughing at me.

Anyway, the fun continued as I played bobbin thread chicken on the last bit of sewing before dinner. This game is similar to yarn chicken, where you're sweating the amount of yarn you have left compared to the amount of knitting you still have to do -- although with the bobbin thread version, running out too soon usually comes as a surprise. Today, though, I finished with inches to spare!

Lynne Cantwell | July 2026

The next step is to attach the dowel rods to the shade, then turn the thing right-side-out and hem it, then attach the rings and the pull cord and sew velcro at the top and... yeah. It's a long way from being done. Maybe next weekend. 

Then I get to make the other shade.

And *then* I get to figure out how to get the old shades off the windows. Wish me luck!

***

These moments of bloggy craftiness have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. It's summer! Do something fun!

Marking the 250th; mainstream Democrats' nerves; and my reading challenge is done.

Lester120 | Deposit Photos

It's the day after the 4th of July, and even though most of the big stuff is over, the weekend lingers on. So happy Independence Day, y'all, and happy 250th to the USA. 

A lot of Americans don't feel like there's much to celebrate on this anniversary of our nation's birth, especially given the shitshow that Trump has made of the nationwide celebration. I remember the bicentennial in 1976; Watergate was not long behind us (Nixon resigned in '74), and it seemed like our political system was healthy and had stood up to the rule of law. It felt like we could go on, like we could continue striving for that more perfect union the Founding Fathers talked about.

Today, not so much.

But: I'm not a huge follower of astrology, but I've happened upon several astrological forecasts of late that indicate we are heading for some kind of upheaval, likely this month. But I have a sense that there's already an upheaval ongoing, and it has to do with the success of democratic socialist candidates during this primary season.

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I can tell you this much: the moderate Democrats who have kept a lock on their party for years (into their dotage, in many cases) are freaking out. A few days ago, Jonathan Chait at The Atlantic wrote a piece about how "Marxist-Leninist organizers" have been infiltrating the Democratic Socialists of America since Bernie Sanders' 2016 presidential candidacy and are poised to take over the organization. He says the DSA has begun supporting "militant anti-Zionism" and is otherwise aligning itself with communist organizations. And he compares the use of "Democratic" in DSA to authoritarian regimes around the world that use the same word. Pretty scary stuff. (The Atlantic has a stiff paywall -- a subscription is $89 a year, which is why I dropped mine several years ago. I'm accessing the article via Apple News.)

The Atlantic, despite its reputation as liberal-leaning, went with this piece at the same time that conservative columnists at the Washington Post and headline writers at the Wall Street Journal are either dropping "democratic" from references to democratic socialist candidates altogether or being wibbly-wobbly about it: sometimes they refer to them as "democratic socialists" and sometimes as just "socialists", as if the two terms are synonymous. Which they're not.

(Chait, by the way, is reportedly a progressive, but he's also Jewish, which might explain why he's sensitive about the whole Zionism thing.)

The founding editor of the DSA's Jacobin magazine, Bhaskar Sunkara, published a response to Chait's piece, which you can read here. (There's no paywall, but you'll have to give up your email address to read it.) The gist of it is that Chait is misreading the DSA's history, that it's a big tent that allows people who hold a lot of leftist viewpoints to join, and that there's a through-line from the DSA's founding to its stances today that Chait is misreading.

We're also in an atmosphere where Trump, at Mount Rushmore Friday, conflated democratic socialism with communism and claimed America is under attack: "You can be loyal to Karl Marx or you can be loyal to America. You can be a communist or you can be a patriot. You cannot be both."

I mean, one expects that out of Trump, who lies all the time. And conservatives have equated socialism with communism in their diatribes for generations; it's a short step for them to rope in democratic socialism and equate that with communism, too. But that Democrats are working so blatantly to discredit the DSA is new.

Here's my view: The Democrats in positions of power really like it there, and they will do anything to stay. They have been biding their time since Trump 2.0 began, telling us they have no power in Congress right now so they can't do anything to rein him in, thereby hoping to encourage a groundswell of blue votes that would win them control of at least one house of Congress, and ideally both, this year. 

The groundswell has built, all right, but it's not the one they wanted. People on the left are sick of Trump's self-dealing and other shenanigans, and they're sick of Democrats' mealy-mouthed responses to it all. They want fresh faces with fresh ideas. So they're voting for younger candidates who espouse democratic socialist views, even as those candidates run as Democrats.

It's not happening everywhere; some democratic socialist candidates are losing their primaries. But it's clear that the successes they've had are scaring the pants off the Democratic leadership. And New York City mayor Zohran Mamdani's successes for the little guy are only making it worse. His speech on the eve of Independence Day has received a fair bit of news coverage.

Some commentators see democratic socialism as the left's equivalent of MAGA. It's true that MAGA started as a collection of disgruntled far-right voters who, juiced by Fox News, coalesced around Trump's candidacy. Democratic socialism is attracting disgruntled far-left voters, and in that sense, I guess, they're similar.

Could democratic socialists take over the Democratic Party the way MAGA has taken over the GOP? It won't happen this year. But by 2028? If they find a candidate with something near to Trump's charisma, I think it could happen. I'm not seeing anyone who's that much of a rising star yet; Mamdani is a naturalized citizen, so he can't be president. But a lot can happen in two years.

***

Oh! I nearly forgot. I finished reading Underground Airlines. I pretty much gave the background for the story last week, so I'll just say a couple of things. First, it turns out that I could have used it as my book set in Indiana; a bunch of the action happens in Indianapolis. Second, it's a terrific read. Third, I get why it attracted the criticism that it did: here's a white author writing about the Black experience. But I think it was pretty sensitively handled, and anyway, c'mon, it's alternate history. The Black experience in the world of the novel can be different than what's happening in the real world today. That's the beauty of speculative fiction: imagining how things might be different.

I haven't sent in my results yet, but it's on my to-do list. Maybe I'll get a sticker or something. I'll let you know.

***

These moments of bloggy prognostication have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Happy barbecue leftovers!

Summer reading progress and a new crafty project.

I said I would post about my IU Summer Reading Challenge progress last Sunday, but I lied. I went out of town last weekend, and the preceding week got away from me. So that's what's on tap for this post. 

By skipping last week, I also missed out on mentioning that here in the northern hemisphere, the summer solstice was last Sunday. So blessed Litha and happy solstice to everyone! 

Yurumi | Deposit Photos

From here on out, the days will get warmer, but the amount of daylight will be decreasing a little bit each day. (The news is better for folks down under, of course; last Sunday was their shortest day of the year.)

***

Reading Challenge news: In our last episode, I reported on the first two books I had finished. Since then, I have read three more:

• For a book set in Indiana, I picked Annie's Quilt, the first book in the Amish Quilts of Indiana series, by Sarah Price. It's a romance, which is fairly far out of my typical wheelhouse, but I liked it. Annie is a young Amish woman who lives in Shipshewana, IN, in the northeastern part of the state near the Michigan border. Her life revolves around church, friends, family, chores on the family's dairy farm, and her job at a fabric shop in town. She dreams of marrying a fine Amish man who's not a farmer because she knows how much hard work is involved in farming and she wants to keep her job in town. You can guess where this is going: a handsome young man, a cousin of one of her friends, comes to town; they fall in love; she thinks he's aiming for a trade; it turns out he's a farmer (oh no!); but it all comes right in the end. I found it well-written and an easy read.
• For a travel memoir, I waffled. I started with Blue Highways by William Least Heat-Moon on a friend's recommendation, but found it too slow paced for me right now. (I might be a little anxious to get this challenge over with.) So I fell back on my original goal of a travel memoir written by a woman and picked Let's Not Play Small: A Memoir of Divorce, Healing, and Reinvention Through Solo Travel by Dawn Ritter Fischer. And I had problems with it. For starters, I'm not the right audience for this book; the author describes it as a "book to inspire women to travel solo. An invitation to step into the unknown and uncover the extraordinary within themselves. A summons to absorb the life lessons and embrace the self-discovery that arrives when we dare to do the uncommon." Unfortunately, this mission statement doesn't show up until page 272. I've already done a fair bit of solo travel, including some international trips, although I haven't chucked it all and gone full-tilt nomad as she has, so her exhortations to not "play small" throughout had me sighing in resignation. Also, the book could use better editing, including cropping out her repeated use of "little did I know" foreshadowing. Full disclosure: I skipped the bonus section with tips for the nomad life. When she actually wrote about her travel experiences, it was a decent read, but otherwise the book wasn't for me.
• For a slow-burn romance, I read This Kingdom Will Not Kill Me by Ilona Andrews, the pseudonym of a husband-and-wife team. This is a terrific book, y'all. It's a portal fantasy. A woman named Maggie is yanked out of our world and dumped in the world of an unfinished fantasy trilogy, the first two books of which she has read and re-read to the point of being able to quote large chunks of them from memory. She immediately knows where in the story she has arrived, and she's able to rise in society by "prophesying" what's going to happen next. Of course she gets involved with a duke in disguise; eventually she figures out who he really is, and then you get into the typical "I'm super attracted to you but you lied to me so I can't love you except I do" slow-burn dance. But it's all very well done. This is the first of Andrews' books that I've read; apparently there are Easter eggs galore for their fans. It's also the first book in a series, and I'm already jonesing for the next one. (Here's hoping they don't leave the series unfinished...)

Since my goal to complete the challenge was six books, I only have to read one more. It needs to be a book that I meant to read last summer -- which I'm translating as "anything sitting unread on my Kindle that I didn't buy this year". I'm still mulling over that choice. But the winner may be Underground Airlines by Ben H. Winters, published in 2016. I recently saw it mentioned on some listicle or other, and it turns out it's been sitting on my Kindle for who knows how long. (Amazon knows how long; I bought it at the tail end of 2016.) The genre is alternative US history. The premise is that President Lincoln was assassinated before issuing the Emancipation Proclamation, the Civil War never occurred, and slavery is still legal in four Southern states. It got a lot of praise when it was released, as well as some criticism because the author is white and is describing Black experiences. I'll let you know what I think.

***

Besides traveling and reading more than I have in several years, I've also hatched a plan for a new craft project. 

I have finally admitted to myself that the window shades in the bedroom and office/craft room drive me crazy. They are honeycomb shades, but not the nicer kind; the shade material feels kind of like cardboard, and the giant metal strip at the bottom bangs loudly against the window frame in a breeze. They do open at the top and bottom (which I didn't discover until about a month ago), but honestly it's not a feature that's a dealbreaker for me (evidenced by the fact that I didn't discover they could do it until about a month ago). 

Nice honeycomb shades are spendy, as I learned when I replaced the blinds on the fabulous wall o' windows last year. I thought maybe I would prefer Roman blinds for these rooms instead; if nothing else, there would be less hardware to clank against the window. Of course my windows are not a standard size, so they would have to be custom. So I did a little looking around online. Even at sale prices, custom Roman blinds are almost as spendy as honeycomb shades.

But they're just big fabric rectangles and some dowel rods, I thought. How hard would it be to make them?

Long story short: we are going to find out. 

I've already ordered all the fabric. For the office/craft room, I'm getting a William Morris willow print in a performance linen that will match the Ruggable rug I use as a chair pad at my desk. For the bedroom, I'm going with a midnight blue swirl pattern in a sateen finish. The lining fabric is also on the way, as is the hardware for pulling the shades up. And I've been looking at videos for assembly directions. (I've been laughing at the ones where they're drawing lines on the fabric and cutting the pieces out with scissors. Have these people never heard of rotary cutters?)

Anyway, stay tuned.

***

These moments of reading and crafty blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Stay cool!

Free art in Santa Fe.

I'm writing this on Friday because this weekend is the Spring Festival at El Rancho de las Golondrinas and I'll be volunteering in the dye shed all day Sunday. Here's hoping I don't have to amend this post with comments about some crazy thing or other out of Washington.

***

I feel fortunate that my last couple of jobs have been in virtual art galleries -- and by "virtual", I don't mean iPads or something, I mean actual art on the walls. At the New Mexico State Capitol, aka the Roundhouse, where I work now, the art is open to the public, plus there are a couple of spots that feature rotating exhibitions. And it's all free, which you can't say about the other museums in town (ahem).

When you first come in the east side visitor's entrance (which is all torn up right now due to construction, but if you go around the fencing, you can get in through the ADA-accessible door on the left), if you go straight ahead, you'll see a cool textile exhibit by local artists. 

This first piece fascinates me; it's called Patches of Blue, and it's by Michelle Jackson. She must have stitched the squares together on tear-away interfacing. Presumably someone could wear the jacket. I mean, it wouldn't fit me, but someone could wear it. 

Lynne Cantwell 2026

Then there's this piece. It's called Frisky, and it's by Stephanie Lerma. I saw them bringing it in when the exhibit first opened; it's at least four feet wide by four feet tall, and I thought then that it wouldn't be out of place at Meow Wolf across town. 

Lynne Cantwell 2026

That's just a taste -- there are a bunch more cool pieces. This exhibit will be up through December.

If you go back to the entrance and take the elevator up to the fourth floor, you'll be at the governor's office. There's a little rotating gallery behind the reception desk. A couple of years ago, I posted about an exhibit there of sci-fi-related stuff from the New Mexico Museum of Space History. The current exhibit features pieces from the collection of the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture, some of which have never been on display. I love this one: it's by Frank Buffalo Hyde (Onondaga/Nez Perce), and it's called Buffalo Fields Forever: To Infinity and Beyond. It just strikes me as quintessentially New Mexico.

Lynne Cantwell 2026

One more: This bronze statue is by Estella Loretto (Jemez Pueblo), and it's called Morning Prayer. (She's the same artist who created Earth Mother, the statue outside the Roundhouse that I use for my Facebook avatar when the legislature is in session.)

Lynne Cantwell 2026

This exhibit moves out sometime mid to late next month, so if you're interested, you'd best get a move on. But even if you miss it, you can tour all the art hanging on the walls in the public areas. And did I mention it's free?

***

My summer reading challenge is moving right along. I'll have an update on that next weekend.

***

These moments of artistic blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Stay cool!

Technology is here to help us. Yeah, right.

I was today years old when the USB-C revolution came for me.

***

It occurred to me this past week, when I was finishing a book for the IU Summer Reading Challenge (update on that in a sec), that my Kindle Paperwhite seemed to be running awfully slowly. Page turns weren't as crisp as they should have been, and searching for a book in the online store was pretty much a nightmare. 

Do you remember that meme about Microsoft Explorer? There are several variations, but here's one: Someone is leading a cheer amongst Firefox, Explorer, Opera, and Safari. The first question is, "What are we?" "Browsers!" three of the browsers reply. "What do we want?" "More speed!" the same three browsers say. "When do we want it?" "Right now!" those same browsers say. And Explorer finally yells out, "Browsers!"

Shopping the Kindle store on my Paperwhite was like that. 

So I checked my purchase history on Amazon. Come to find out my device was an 8th generation Paperwhite, purchased in 2017. (I also recalled that I bought it then because someone had swiped my previous Paperwhite off my desk at the law firm, but never mind that.) The newest Paperwhite is generation 12.

It then occurred to me that maybe I hadn't been so keen on reading lately because my old Paperwhite was making the process less than pleasant. So I shelled out for a new one.

It arrived yesterday. It's a titch bigger than my old one, so I've ordered a new case. And I discovered something else when I went to plug it in for a full charge: the plug is different. My old Paperwhite has a micro USB port. The new one has a USB-C.

Micro USB on top, USB-C on bottom.
Lynne Cantwell | June 2026

I vaguely recalled Apple being in a kerfuffle with the European Union a while back over its proprietary Lightning port. Seems the powers-that-be in the EU got tired of needing different cords and chargers for different devices, so they forced Apple to switch over to USB-C as of 2024. What I missed back then was that the new law applied to other tech devices, too -- including Kindles.

I regarded the new cord for a minute, and then I texted my daughters. I'm the only iPhone user in the family; they both switched to Android several years ago. And they confirmed that their current phones take USB-C cables. "You'll be using that, too, next time you get a new phone," Kitty said.

She's right. The new iPhone models all come with USB-C ports. Thanks a lot, EU.

Don't get me wrong -- I am all for standardization. It's just that I've gotten whiplash from all the tech changes I've lived through: for audio, vinyl to 8-track to cassette to CD to vinyl again; and for video, Betamax (anyone remember that one?) to videocassette to DVD to Blu-Ray to streaming to the gods alone know what will come next. And that doesn't begin to cover all the different connectors for different devices and purposes.

If USB-C is the final iteration for chargers and cables, okay. One port to rule them all! I just hope it stays that way. I'm tired of buying new tech just to keep up.

***

I am going to have to keep at least one micro USB cable, though; my ancient Anker five-charge portable battery still needs one for recharging.

***

Oh, right. The reading challenge. I have finished two books this week! And that was on the old, slow-as-molasses-in-January Kindle, too.

(I debated whether to resurrect the Rursday Reads blog for this project, but it hardly seems worth it for only six books.)

First, Heinlein's The Door into Summer: Published in 1957, this is sci-fi for fun. The novel opens in 1970. Dan Davis is an electronics engineer who is a genius at developing robots that make life easier for human beings. He hooks up with a partner, Miles, who has a head for business, and they get along swimmingly until they bring in Belle Gentry to be their bookkeeper. Belle pulls a grand con on both of them, swindling Dan out of his share of the company. Dan drinks himself into a stupor, then decides that he and his cat Pete should take what's called the Cold Sleep -- suspended animation -- for 30 years and wake up in 2000. Belle screws that up for him, too, or so it seems; Belle reengineers Dan's plans and Pete runs away. When Dan wakes up in 2000, he discovers he is flat broke. It takes him a while, but he hatches a plan to time-travel back to 1970, rescue Pete, and make sure Belle doesn't get all his money, after all. 

Here in 2026, it was entertaining for me to see what Heinlein got right about 1970 (not much) and 2000 (even less). This was written well before his Lazarus Long period, so while there's misogyny in the book, it's not as bad as Heinlein got in his later years. I ended up enjoying it.

The second book I read was Wok Walk by Melissa Bowersock. This is volume 50 in her series featuring an ex-LAPD detective named Lacey Fitzpatrick and her husband, a Navajo medium named Sam Firecloud. Together they investigate cases in which a dead person's spirit stays earthbound for some reason; between Lacey's research and Sam's talent for contacting those spirits, they are able to get them to move on to the next world. In this volume, the client is a family who own a Chinese restaurant. The patriarch is shot to death, out of the blue, on the back stoop of the restaurant while on a smoking break; as Sam discovers, even the victim doesn't know who killed him or why. The police, too, are stymied. Eventually the truth is uncovered, the shooter is not who I expected, and the family members are able to get closure on more than just the patriarch's death.

I'm not gonna lie: One reason I like this series is because the books are short. They are more like novellas than novels. But I also enjoy the dynamic between Lacey, Sam, and Sam's children, and it's fun watching the kids grow. And the horror is usually minimal. Plus Melissa is a friend and fellow Indies Unlimited contributor, and she writes well. What more can you ask?

***

So that's where we're at. Next up is a book recommended to me by Kay Robinett, This Kingdom Will Not Kill Me by Ilona Andrews. I'm not sure whether I've read anything by Andrews before, but Kay loved the book, so I'm going to give it a whirl. I'll report back. 

***

These moments of technological blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. I promise to keep reading if you will.

Tricking myself into reading more.

I have a confession to make -- a terrible one for someone who used to write books and read all the time: I've fallen out of the habit of reading.

I don't exactly know when it happened, but I think I can trace it back to when I went full-time for the Legislative Council Service three years ago. Reading and correcting hundreds of pages of other people's documents per day, a lot of them pretty dense legalese, makes reading for pleasure less fun. Instead of picking up a book, I've been doomscrolling all day and watching TV every evening.

This is not healthy, I know. It has also made me less fun (I am not going to go back and count the number of blog posts I've written about stuff I first learned about on Facebook -- I just know it's a lot). So when my alma mater, Indiana University, sent me an email about the university's first-ever summer reading challenge, I clicked the link for the kit before I could overthink it. 

Stolen from IU's website. Somehow I don't think the school will care.

The kit contains the rules, a page of bookmarks you're supposed to print on cardstock and cut out, a log for keeping track of the books you've read, and two bingo cards: one for kids and one for adults. Here's the one for adults: 

Also stolen from IU's website.

Hopefully you can embiggen that enough to read the prompts. One of them is "A book by an IU alum"; I considered filling that square with one of mine, but that seems hardly sporting. I also think it would be cheating to use one book for multiple categories, but the rules don't explicitly prohibit it (I expect they will next year -- I can't possibly be the only person who has thought of it).

You can get bingo several ways: the traditional across, down, or diagonal, or all the red spaces to make a trident. I think I'm going to go for the diagonal that goes top left to bottom right: a book set in Indiana, a book you meant to read last summer, a book about time travel, a slow-burn romance, a fantasy novel, a travel memoir, and the free space (let's not get crazy - I'm easing back into the habit). I've already got my fantasy novel lined up -- my friend Melissa Bowersock's newest, Wok Walk (the primary category for her series is detective fiction, but there are plenty of fantasy elements, too) -- and for the time-travel novel, I'm using Heinlein's The Door Into Summer, which Amazon says I bought for my Kindle in 2014 but I don't think I ever read it. I started it yesterday, and it's not ringing a bell. (Then I looked over the challenge rules and realized, whoops, I'm not supposed to start reading 'til tomorrow. I didn't get that far into it, I swear!)

As for a book I meant to read last summer, my Kindle is chockablock with books I haven't read. I'll just pick one of them for that category. Surely I meant to read them all last summer, right?

That leaves: a book set in Indiana: a slow-burn romance: and a travel memoir. I could ask Mama Google for listicles, but I'd rather know what you guys are reading. So if you have a favorite that would fit any of those three categories, let me know.

***

I mean, I could cheat and use one of my books for the one set in Indiana. Or reread one of Kurt Vonnegut's novels. But I should probably read something new.

***

"What the hell," you ask, "do a trident and a buffalo have to to with a Midwestern university?" 

The trident is the shape of the IU logo (which I had never noticed before this, and certainly not when I was a student there in the late '70s).

The buffalo, I believe, comes from the state seal of Indiana, a description of which is set out in statute as follows (we here at hearth/myth are determined to provide more information than you ever cared to know): 

Indiana Code: IC 1-2-4-1

Sec. 1. The official seal for the state of Indiana shall be described as follows:

A perfect circle, two and five eighths (2 5/8) inches in diameter, inclosed by a plain line. Another circle within the first, two and three eighths (2 3/8) inches in diameter inclosed by a beaded line, leaving a margin of one quarter (1/4) of an inch. In the top half of this margin are the words "Seal of the State of Indiana".

At the bottom center, 1816, flanked on either side by a diamond, with two (2) dots and a leaf of the tulip tree (liriodendron tulipifera), at both ends of the diamond. The inner circle has two (2) trees in the left background, three (3) hills in the center background with nearly a full sun setting behind and between the first and second hill from the left.

There are fourteen (14) rays from the sun, starting with two (2) short ones on the left, the third being longer and then alternating, short and long. There are two (2) sycamore trees on the right, the larger one being nearer the center and having a notch cut nearly half way through, from the left side, a short distance above the ground. The woodsman is wearing a hat and holding his ax nearly perpendicular on his right. The ax blade is turned away from him and is even with his hat.

The buffalo is in the foreground, facing to the left of front. His tail is up, front feet on the ground with back feet in the air, as he jumps over a log.

The ground has shoots of blue grass, in the area of the buffalo and woodsman.

(Formerly: Acts 1963, c.207, s.1.)

There's been a lot of discussion about the imagery over the years. Here is what I can tell you: the tulip tree is the Indiana state tree; Indiana entered the Union in 1816; and the rest of it seems to be in honor of the nation's westward expansion, with the pioneer fellow chopping down trees and chasing the buffalo away. (There actually were bison in Indiana at one time.) Describing the sun as setting rather than rising has been a topic of discussion since the state's inception; one fellow in 1819 insisted the sun was meant to be rising east of the Allegheny Mountains, which pioneers had to cross to get to the state. 

Sure, Jan. If those mountains are the Alleghenies (which are part of the Appalachians), that bison is running toward Minnesota.

Here's the seal. Judge for yourself. 

Alancotton | Dreamstime.com

***

These moments of habitual reading blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Yay, reading!

How to tell that an "investigative journalist" really is one.

First, I hope all my US readers have had a great, relaxing Memorial Day weekend. Mine has been busy, which is why I'm posting today instead of yesterday. The last day of a three-day weekend always feels like Sunday, anyway, right?

The reason for the day, of course, is to honor those who died in service to our country. So let's take a moment to do that -- and to hope that we never have more war dead to remember.

sframe | Deposit Photos

***

Now then.

Y'all have no doubt heard about the Jeffrey Epstein connection to New Mexico. He owned a ranch in southern Santa Fe County dubbed Zorro Ranch, and reports are that terrible things happened there, including possibly the murders and burials of two girls. It's been known for quite some time that several top New Mexico politicians, including former governor Bill Richardson, were Epstein associates. At one time, the state attorney general began an investigation into the goings-on at Zorro Ranch -- but in 2019, the US Department of Justice asked the AG to stop its investigation and hand over all of its evidence so the DoJ could combine it with their investigation. The New Mexico AG was supposed to get the evidence back when the federal probe was over.

The feds then proceeded to bury their investigation. To date, New Mexico has never gotten its evidence back. In February of this year, at about the same time that the New Mexico House of Representatives' Special Investigatory Committee looking into Epstein's connections in the state held its first meeting, the current AG reopened the state investigation. 

All that is easy enough to confirm with a web search, looking at legitimate websites and reports from legitimate journalists. That's what I just did. Alas, some folks who are opining on the Epstein investigation are kind of sketchy.

There's a woman who's been making a splash on Facebook by posting stuff about the Epstein connections in New Mexico in the "I'm just asking questions" vein. I am not going to share any links to her Facebook page or Substack -- I don't want to give her any more publicity than she has already received -- but her first name is Alisa, and I bet if you did a little spelunking yourself, you'd find her.

From what I can tell from what I have read of her work, she is doing Google searches, using them to make connections in her brain, and publishing that as truth without confirming it with anybody.

Folks, real investigative journalists won't publish this kind of thing. The rule has always been that you need at least two sources to confirm a rumor before you publish it. I know that got kind of lax during the era when reporters were essentially assigned to the Twitter beat -- i.e., they would read Twitter all day long and write news stories based on newsmakers' tweets -- which is why I hated that trend so much. It's lazy journalism.

But at least tweets from newsmakers come straight from the horse's mouth, as it were -- not from somebody making associations based on results from web searches and publishing them without verification.

Here's when I knew she was full of shit: My employer, the Legislative Council Service (LCS), released a request for proposals (RFP) on March 13th with the aim of hiring a law firm to "provide legal and support services" to the committee. Now, I work in the Proofing Department. We proofread proposed legislation all year long -- but we proofread other documents, too, including letters, legal memos, contracts, and RFPs. And what we do is confidential, which means we can't talk about it unless and until it's made public.

The RFP (you can read it yourself here) set the timetable for accepting proposals and picking one or more offeror. Here is Paragraph 2(E) of the RFP (it's on page 4 of the PDF):

E.  Selection of Offeror.  The final selection of an Offeror shall be made by the LCS.  That selection will be publicly announced on or after April 10, 2026.  Offerors selected to perform the work and those Offerors not selected will be notified in writing via email by the LCS.  Selection does not constitute an obligation to contract with an Offeror.  The LCS reserves the right to contract with the second choice and then the subsequent choices if contract negotiations fail with the final Offeror. (emphasis mine)

Here's the thing with contracts: Let's say you want to buy a house. You find one you like and put in your offer to the seller, right? The seller can refuse your offer for any number of reasons, but let's say your offer is accepted. Do you sign the contract that day? Of course not. The acceptance of the offer only starts the contract negotiation process. Your mortgage company checks your credit; the title company makes sure nobody else owns the house and that there are no outstanding liens against it; you get a home inspector to go through the place with you and tell you what needs to be fixed; and so on. It can take weeks. And at any point in the process, either you or the seller can say nope, the deal is off for X reason.

That is what is going on with this paragraph of the RFP: Selection was planned for the week of April 6, and then the contract negotiations started. The parties could decide whether or not to accept the terms as offered, or they could continue to haggle. No announcement would be made that it's a done deal until it's a done deal -- in other words, until the contract is signed by both the successful offeror and the LCS. And the LCS said right there in the RFP that if the deal with their first choice fell through, they could contract with somebody else. I mean, they could even say they didn't like any of the offerors and send out the RFP again.

So. About two weeks after the April 10th deadline for selection, I read a Facebook post by Alisa complaining that it's been two weeks and there's been no announcement and I'm just asking questions but WHY HAVEN'T WE HEARD ANYTHING?

By that point, at least one iteration of the contract had come through our department. So I knew three things: 1) an announcement was likely imminent; 2) either she hadn't read the RFP thoroughly enough, or she didn't know enough about contract law, to know that two weeks is nothing in a contract negotiation; and 3) she was just causing trouble to have something to write about. 

Oh, and she also called a guy on our staff the LCS's "Chief Procurement Officer", when in fact his official job title is Project Coordinator. (This is a ridiculously easy thing to confirm; the job of every state employee is listed on the state's sunshine portal. Including mine. I'm a Proofreader II.)

Since then, she has gone on to attempt to besmirch the reputation of at least one committee member. She has also complained that nobody official will talk to her and has suggested that because of that, something nefarious is going on, the committee is just political theater, and (I'll let you fill in the rest).

I mean, I'm just spitballing here, but it's possible nobody official will talk to her because she's already proven herself to be, dare I say it, full of shit.

In a Substack post on May 12, she claims that her Substack is in the top ten rising for US politics. I have no way to confirm that, but I can tell you that as of today, it has dropped to number 26. Not the direction you want to be going, I don't think.

The Special Investigatory Committee is having its next meeting at the Roundhouse next Monday. The agenda states the members will meet with the media after the meeting is over. I'd be interested to know if Alisa shows up. As a real journalist, that's what I'd do.

***

If she gets wind of this post, I hope she contacts me. I'd be happy to put my resume up against hers. Heh.

***

These moments of bloggy bullshittery have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Stay sharp!