floating down the river of denial

Every Friday, I announce that I am taking a break from the news. I don't watch or read any of it over the weekend and by Monday, I feel partly sane again. By Monday night, I feel the need to catch up and it's the same shit show all over again.  There is no resolution of one catastrophe before the next one climbs on board.

My hosta garden in the front yard is going to be my best one yet. Mimi, my hosta friend and mentor, came over the other day and told me, again, the names of many of my hosta. I think I finally found a way to label them that won't fade away in the sun or be raked out in the spring. We'll see how it goes.

We had a scare last week. Easton, three-years old, had to go the doctor because of a high fever. They didn't do a covid test because it would be traumatic but they did a strep test. He was much better the next day. Regis and I are being very careful. We go very few places and when we do go somewhere, we wear masks. So many people are careless now...no masks and not respecting distance, so we aren't talking any chances. I've gotten accustomed to being home and that's good and bad. I think I could drift into coronaphobia pretty easily. It's a thing...click the link.

It's raining and my garden is grateful. Regis says it's the effects of Cristobol. I've seen pictures of the waves and I know I don't want to be anywhere near that weather event.

Season 5 of Queer Eye has been a tear-jerker already. Episode 1 is the story of a pastor in the ELCA Lutheran Church. Powerful. We finished Schitt'$ Creek. Boo hoo. I loved those characters.

Bye for now.