Someone may have forgotten to write a blog post this morning. I’m not naming any names but you probably have a pretty good guess.
I have no reason, really, I’m just a little forgetful lately, with my head so crammed with information, I suppose a thing now and then might fall right on out of there. Or I have a low grad migraine.
Either is possible.
The weather has turned, and I’m chilly as I write this, no heat yet because who knows if it will stay this way. But it’s more than halfway through September and this year keeps gliding by, but nonchalantly smashing things along the way.
It’s been a long four years.
For a forgotten blog, I don’t have much to say today, aside from I hope the rest of your Friday is smooth and you have a wonderful weekend.
I’m one to talk, right? But as we hit the last upward hike of our ascent toward the election, discouragement is all around us. Our votes won’t matter; we won’t vote; no one will turn out; it’s already over.
And to that I say a hearty plbbbbbtttt.
If we couldn’t win, they wouldn’t be trying to stop us from doing it. If our votes don’t matter, why are they so intent on preventing us from doing so?
In the famous words of someone famous you know I’m going to look up as soon as I’ve typed this sentence, it ain’t over ’til it’s over.
(It was Yogi Berra.)
We need to scramble, to claw, to fight our way out of this nightmare. If it were easy, we wouldn’t be here in the first place. We got her on the path of least resistance.
No more. In another set of words borrowed from Yogi Berra, when you come to a fork in the road, take it. Our fork is waiting.
Not even 10 am yet and my head is reeling from the onslaught of news. We’ve had enough for several weeks and yet it keeps coming, huge story after huge story.
It’s a lot.
Outside it might be sunny, it might be gray, it’s really difficult to tell. It’s quiet, though, whatever it is, and I’m trying to get my mind in the day, and not off floating somewhere that used to be and now is not.
We are where we are. How everyone couldn’t see this is where it would go is beyond me, but there are people surprised every day, like it’s the first day, like it hasn’t happened a hundred times before.
Anyway, I’m going to try to get myself focused. Have a great Tuesday.
Oh Gus from Psych is probably thrilled. They found a gas that is often a signature of life, though it may not be in this case. Still, the possibilities are fun to contemplate, many many miles away from here.
Gray again after a sunny respite yesterday. Now the sky is gray and the clouds are gray, and it’s not unpleasant to look at but it doesn’t look like summer.
I had mediocre sleep but a good workout, and I’ve landed somewhere in the middle, my brain tired despite the coffee, my body awake, mostly. It definitely feels like a Monday in the apocalypse, our slow-motion collapse teetering another of this house of cards.
Although maybe being cheerful at times like these is more of a problem than not. This is not the 21st century we envisioned, at least outside of a disaster movie.
Anyway, that’s it for me this Monday. Have a great day.
Gray and rainy again today, but somehow I don’t mind it. I spilled half a cup of coffee on my carpet, and as much as I blot, more seems to lurk there, coffeeing.
We are at the end of a wild week of news, and most of it is no longer trending, which is strange and not strange all at the same time. But if you needed Bob Woodward to tell you trump is a monster, you haven’t been paying attention.
It seems chilly today, too, like Fall means it now, the wildly hot days of the last weeks as though they never were. It’s funny how the weather can change, just like that.
I hope we can change just like that.
If we can, if we do, what a better world we will have. That’s it for me today, have a great Friday and a wonderful weekend.
Gray again today, and I’m searching the old memory banks–feeling older all the time–for one tiny, tiny grain of wisdom to impart upon you on this upteenth Wednesday in this living nightmare we call now. And really, all I have are cinnamon rolls.
Yeah, I had the same reaction. But once a week or so, I make pizza dough. I use half of it for pizza, or last time, calzones, which I froze, and it worked out well. With the other half, I make cinnamon rolls.
It’s a little bit of effort on a weekend morning, though not that much, as the dough is already made most of the time. Given I use pizza dough, it’s fast when it isn’t.
And then I freeze them, and in the mornings I have a treat that’s ready to go and heavenly with coffee.
You may not be a cinnamon roll person. You might be an egg burrito person or a waffles person and I swear this isn’t just about breakfast food or food, but both of those, I understand, freeze well.
Set aside a little time to make a treat you can dip into during the week, whether it’s a project you’re working on, something yummy or whatever makes you smile. It’s worth the effort.
It’s another sunny day in our nation of dystopia, Labor Day Monday, the end of the summer in feeling if not in calendar. A day set aside to remember the people who brought us a weekend, safety conditions, a minimum wage and a multitude of other workplace requirements we take for granted has never felt more apt.
It was a weekend of cooking and baking, first cinnamon rolls, then a cake, and then I made pizza for my parents, and they greatly enjoyed it. This time, it was done in a pan, the crust thicker and bready.
It was good.
Today would normally be marked by BBQs and parents scrambling through well-picked shelves for last-minute school supplies, but nothing is normal anymore. There were gradual changes and abrupt leaps, and here we are and I don’t like it and I want to go home.
I suspect we all do.
But who’s to say that can exist again. There is only one way to find out, to get rid of this regime come November, to elect Vice President Joe Biden and watch him try to untangle this knotty, knotty mess. Perhaps a Democratic Congress can pass laws to prevent it ever happening again.
Meanwhile, I will treat this day like a holiday, whatever that means here and now, and look forward to my leftover pizza. Have a great Monday, and spare a thought for the people who literally died to make employment safer and more fair.