I’m about to go get in the shower so that we can get on the road to head over to Oak Ridge and talk Constitution with Terry Frank. I don’t really have 15 minutes worth of things to say that fit together in a coherent package, so come watch Terry speak eloquently and with confidence about conservative principals and stick around to watch me fan-girl about the 9th Amendment, sound like a libertarian for a while, and then argue that while the government sure as hell should get in the health care game, mandatory insurance is unconstitutional. I will be reading off of large pieces of paper.
Then I will complete my transformation into a grouchy old man by demanding pie and a nap!
Or something. Ha.
I may demand pie and a nap even if I don’t come off like a curmudgeon.
Who doesn’t want pie?
I’m also bringing a copy of the Constitution so that I can wave it around, if need be.
Edited to add: Wouldn’t it have been awesome if I had hit “publish” on this before leaving Nashville? Yes, it would have. And would have cemented my reputation as a “blogger” who knows how to do stuff like, oh, you know, blog.
Anyway, so the Butcher and I went over to Oak Ridge and we met Casey who is just as nice as can be. Terry Frank, I’m going to be honest, was like a machine, and I mean that in the best way possible. She was calm and together and spoke eloquently and professionally and had facts and history and quotes and seemed like she knew what the hell she was doing.
I, on the other hand, even though I had practiced a bunch, got up there and was all nervous and not at all witty and at ease like I wanted to be.
Still, one of Terry’s fans came up afterward and said, “I just wanted to let you know that I liked your speech. Which really surprised me, because I thought I’d hate it.”
So, ha, yeah, the wife of the guy who wore the NRA t-shirt and said, “Then move to France” to the guy who was talking about how French health care worked didn’t hate what I had to say.
I count that as a small victory.
And then we almost died.
We were driving home in rain pouring so hard it was like a white-out and the guy ahead of us slammed on his breaks and the Butcher slammed on ours and our car just left the roadway and we hydroplaned all over the fucking interstate and yet he kept us on the road and pointed forward and eventually, the tires found asphalt again.
And we lived.
And I was like, “Holy shit.”
And he said, “Years of driving on gravel and in snow.”
And I said, “I have years of driving on gravel and in snow, too, and if I were driving, we would have died.”