The Blog: Spellbound by our own imperfect lives...

I'm not going to rant about politics this morning because, frankly, it's exhausting. I'm only right now, this morning. An hour from now might be different. Well, there is this. I just got distracted looking for funny pictures of Steve Bannon and Kelly Anne Conway. There is no shortage (I'd post a few here but don't want to ruin the bread and baby mojo.) but here's a scary idea. Someone started a FB page to promote her run for the presidency in 2020. Lord have mercy.

It's been a little more than a week since we inaugurated the new potus. I am already weary of waking up every day and having my first thought be of war. Every day, it's some new outrageous thing he has done. Every day, some new embarrassment in front of the world. Yesterday, people who have lived here legally for years were detained and not allowed to enter the US. Britain is considering (again) not allowing him to visit their country. He is an ignorant schoolyard bully. I say if they decide to let him in, they have to keep him. Preferably in a jail cell. This morning, I wake up to see he has reshuffled the US National Security Council, downgrading the military chiefs of staff and giving a regular seat to his chief strategist Steve Bannon. The guy who tells the press to shut up. The guy who looks like Nick Nolte's last mug shot. From Wikipedia: Bannon was a founding member of the board of Breitbart News ,  a far-right news, opinion and commentary website whi...

I've discovered as I've gotten older that one thing that causes extreme stress for me is acting as if things are normal and sane when they are not. I'm not filled with courage when it comes to speaking my mind and usually choose a safe route to hedge and hem and haw. I'm not good at conflict and I'm especially not good at arguing with people regarding subjects about which I have strong feelings. My emotions get in the way. But. I hear I was called a baby killer from the pulpit of the local Catholic church this past Sunday. The priest called all women who marched in the Women's March baby killers. Did he mean all people who marched, because there were men, lots of men. If he did mean the men, too, it would be the first time I have heard the role of men mentioned in public debates about reproduction. If he means all of us at the March believe in each woman having the right to make her own reproductive decisions, then he is right about me. I do believe that is ...

poems that come by email and social media it shouldn't be this hard poems that drift into my head, like smoke the dog's fluffy head and the cat coming for treats at 4am soft purr and persistent paws tiny birds that come to the feeder in the hour before dawn the sound of bread crust crackling on the counter as it cools children at the table doing homework and listening what's a revolution? the silence of snow falling outside my window fresh smell of a new baby soft head, grasping tiny fingers old women who write journalists who persist parks that defy women who march

Some days it is a struggle to get out of bed. To stay vertical. On the days when I do, I read the news or watch a little bit of it (as much as I can stomach) and I want to go directly to the cave. It's baffling. Up is down and down is up. Lies are alternative facts. I'm not going to be in the business of reporting his crazy ass shit here. It gives me a headache to think about it. I might have turned a corner, though. I was heartened to see a reporter go after a couple of dumb asses today and (almost) holler: Just answer the question! He never did. How these people can sleep at night is a mystery. Even the pope has cautioned against this guy. The Pope. Think about that. Take all the time you need. I'm turning into an angry and sarcastic person. You might not know it to see me on the street but I have angry (and sad) thoughts many times a day. The number of times I say sarcastic things in my head in a day is too many to count. Think I should see a doctor? I have an appo...

I recently found the answer to why birds legs don't freeze off in the winter but I'm not going to reveal it here. I am not the science guy and you can wait to stumble upon the answer just like I did. Why is Duck Dynasty on the Arts and Entertainment channel? I thought they had shows where the very proper John Houseman did the intro. Stories about dead kings and such, not grizzly old guys in camouflage. Of course, this could launch a whole raft of philosophical questions about television. Check out the listings for the Learning Channel   sometime. Not much learning going on there, my friends. Why do my medical symptoms start to disappear the day I call the doctor to make an appointment? When I tell the central office appointment scheduler that I suspect an eye infection, why does she want to know which eye? And you know I will answer that same question three more times before I actually see the doctor. I have to admit however, when I called to make the appointment, my doctor...

I know dog days refers to the hot and sultry days of summer, but I think winter should get its due with a comparable spell of days. I found this on Wikipedia: The dog days continued through the early 19th century to be perceived as foreboding a time of evil, wherein "the Sea boiled, the Wine turned sour, Dogs grew mad, and all other creatures became languid; causing to man, among other diseases, burning fevers, hysterics, and phrensies," as described by Brady in his Clavis Calendaria (1813). Yeah, that's it. Burning, fevers, hysterics, and phrensies. ( FYI. Phrensies is an obsolete spelling of frenzies.)  You could probably look back over my ten years of blog writing and see this same theme repeated in January year after year. Sigh. It is not the peak of my biorhythmic cycle. I decided yesterday that I had enough of sitting in the chair in my pajamas until noon. I got out my calendar, made a list of things to do, and I was busy all day. One of the things on my list w...

Yesterday it snowed for a short time in the afternoon. This morning, it's snowing again. Against the colorless background of this winter, I love the white. The radio is talking about ice pellets and varying amounts of snow. Sigh. There is a tiny junco at the feeder trying to get through the snow to the cracked corn. The neighbor's car alarm did not go off this morning. Regis, doing the kind and neighborly thing, offered to help the operator learn to use it. Me, doing the grouchy un-neighborly thing, only complained loudly and turned on the porch light every time I heard it. My disposition is not at its best in January. I had softened my stance on Facebook, even reading some of the political news, but yesterday I got sucked into a conversation where I tried to comment on something obviously not in that person's world view. I have since gone back to my campaign of withdrawal. Delete, unfollow, unfriend. It's like a damn war. Regis and the techno-obsessed sons are ...

When I start to list, in my head, the dark moments from my days, I can usually think of light that helps, a little, in the balance. My friend, in another town. diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer that has spread to bones and organs. We taught together and she was kind and sweet and funny. What a sad burden for her and for her family. Good friends joined us for dinner last night. Fresh bread, crab cakes with mango salsa, vegetable soup (with turnips), and coconut macaroons. Much laughter. They're taking a trip (a safari, like in the movies) to Africa soon. Imagine. Monkeys outside your tent. Our friend in Texas, breathless walking on the beach, diagnosed with heart problems. Fixable, but disturbing. We know he hates this kind of attention, but for me, not a praying person, invoking his name here is like a prayer. Like it is for Sandy. And Karen. And Jaime. And Betty, always a worry. It's gotten so that I am almost afraid to call people and a Caring Bridge email stops my bre...

I mentioned to Regis that we might have to replace one of our under-cabinet lights because it has been acting blinky and weird. Huh, he said. Kind of like you. This time of year, when I spend a lot of time in the living room, I am always looking for ways to economize our space which is limited. In my sights today is the cat tree. We got it when Woody was about 2 years old, and honestly, he was more interested in the box. He never uses most of the space on it...the hammock, the kitty cave, the rope. He used to like the tallest perch and he eats on the second level, but otherwise it is a huge suck of space that is unused 98% of the time. Since we solved the litter problem, now it's time to find something for this issue. Sigh. It's always something. In the past three weeks, I have hardly left the house except for essential trips. Too icy, too dark, too cold. I drink coffee, take naps, read books, and knit. It is a nice life but I worry that I am becoming a reclus...

From THIS OLD MAN by Roger Angell who is 90 something: I’ve endured a few knocks but missed worse. I know how lucky I am, and secretly tap wood, greet the day, and grab a sneaky pleasure from my survival at long odds. The pains and insults are bearable. My conversation may be full of holes and pauses, but I’ve learned to dispatch a private Apache scout ahead into the next sentence, the one coming up, to see if there are any vacant names or verbs in the landscape up there. If he sends back a warning, I’ll pause meaningfully, duh, until something else comes to mind. I bought fabric, cut it out, tried to sew it on the sewing machine, found I had no needles, got needles from Marie, found I had no idea how to use a sewing machine after all these years, hand-stitched the hem so Gus would have a nice bandana for Christmas Eve. Three days later he lost it on a walk. Not the $1.99 bandana we buy at Menards. This one. We had days of 30-40 mph winds so I didn't hold out much hope for fi...

A new year. We stayed up later than usual watching When Harry Met Sally. We feasted on strip steak, mashed potatoes, shrimp with Creole sauce, and Cuban bread. I might have been barely awake when midnight struck but I was in bed, reading my new Ian Rankin book. I've been studying my maps of Scotland and Edinburgh to find the places Rebus visits in the books. I love the names: Firth of Forth, for example. I'm not sure what a firth is besides being some large body of water...maybe an inlet. I could look it up but so far, it's more interesting to wonder. I'm sure the letter carrier (who rarely carries letters) was cursing me under her breath yesterday. All my Christmas presents came, and the pile of new books I ordered. We had a pile of packages on the front step that must have taken her three trips from the little truck. Stock pot is ready to go and I have been perusing the new soup cookbooks. Hungarian steak and mushroom will be my first go. Then French onion. We h...