Perfectly Pink: Capitalism and Cecilia

The sky was pink tonight. A sliver of hot pink on the horizon. Ann called me out to look at it before she headed out the door on a walk with Chester (I'd go, but I've abused my broken toe instead of resting it so she made me stay home).

I haven't seen pink skies in months. It was beautiful.

I dislike the color pink (I'm trying not to over use the word hate in my life...I'm saving it for really important things like the president, the war in Iraq, capitalism, cooked carrots...you get the picture).

But pink in the sky tonight was perfect.

Speaking of capitalism, we had breakfast with our artist-friend Cecilia. I love her. Her mind is amazing. She holds so much in her head. We start talking about her next art exhibit (entitled: Who do we invite to the table?) -- it will be a table, decorated in Mexican motifs with huge bowls at the place settings representing AIR WATER EARTH and ANIMALS (humans included). They'll be place settings for corporations like Conoco-Phillips whose profits last year were larger than the GDP (Gross Domestic Product) of three nations...I can't remember all the countries, but Thailand was in there. She was furious and went on and on about how Americans have been suckered into thinking that "capitalism" is synonomous with "democracy".

Then, between bites of eggs and toast, she started telling us about race as a construct...a discussion we've had before...and how she watched this show called myochondrial (sp?) Eve...how scientists have traced human genetic lineage back to one woman in southern Africa and from her, 5 strands of her descendants spread through the world (Cecilia can tell exactly where each descendent went...I can't) and that they took a full-blooded Cree man and a white punk girl (that's how C. described her, though I never thought of punk as a race...but it added to the picture)...anyway, they tested their genetics and the two of them share the same myochondrial strand. Freaky.

And the whole time I'm listening to C. and I'm thinking, "This woman should be president, no doubt about it" and I tell her, "Cecilia, you should be president." And she said, "The real creative people who have real intelligence never even think about politics as an option"...only she wasn't being arrogant about it, she was being honest and upfront and passionate...

And I said, "But still, can you imagine how this country would change if the tables were turned?"

C. said, "Which brings me back to my Who gets invited to the table exhibit! The fate of the earth is in these evil, evil hands."

When the sky turned pink tonight, I knew there was a possibility that it might be a good omen -- the first step in ending evil perhaps? Or maybe just a sign that this 40 days and 40 nights shit is almost over.

Cecilia can be invited to my table any time!