I am very sad to find myself in a country where a large fraction of the people (and an actual majority of the elected leaders) are willing to tolerate literal treason, just to live in a world where they don’t have to respect other people.
At 5:30 AM, as Jackie heads to work, the sun has not yet risen. It won’t rise until 5:39 today. Worse, the encroaching darkness is speeding up: It won’t rise until 5:45 a week from today.
Innovative grammar heard on the trail at Zion National Park: “These half-price boots I found on ebay are the best I’ve ever boughten.”
I propose that we change the name of this season from “spring” to “second winter, with pollen.”
After a dark winter and late spring, my skin looks like that of a pale grub. But not an ordinary pale grub: A pale grub in need of moisturizer.
Can you believe it’s nearly National Handwriting Day again?
Sky overhead is pretty clear, but there are heavy clouds off to the east, so there’s no pinkiness to the dawn sky. Just dark grey and pale bluish-grey.
After a rough patch in mid-November I’m doing okay with the cold—well, preternatural warmth—and dark.
The Republican Party has not “made a pact with the devil.” They have become devil understudies, dressed up in devil drag, and are standing in the wings hoping to be picked as next devil.
Great Harvest Challah bread, which Jackie got a loaf of as her contribution to food for workers at the Spinners and Weavers Guild Show and Sale, but which didn’t all get eaten, turns out to make outstanding garlic bread. Who knew?