Holidays are hard. There… I said it. As kids we rarely pick up on the nuances of family gatherings, we’re just there to see our cousins and eat fun stuff. And then life changes, as it is wont to do, and we learn how to celebrate on a different scale, how to hold room for our memories and feelings, how to appreciate everything. It’s a lot.
Some years ago we stopped trying to live up to the noisy food-laden holidays of yore and brought the house down a little with simple, and simply wonderful, comfort food, the National Dog Show, football, the chill weather, and much laughter. So as it turns out life is in great part about taming expectations. Kim and Rita cook and bicker in the kitchen while I keep myself available for mindless tasks, and behold, a luscious meal appears. It works seamlessly, and we’re appropriately thankful for various things all day, no stress required. I love it. The mood couldn’t be more comfortable.
Still. Our hearts remember the old times, and we think of them as having been magical… everybody happy and full of love, hugs all around, nothing but peace and goodwill. With everything hanging in the balance this year, we yearn for the unity and unconditional love we think we remember, and we try to go back to a place that was never really there… kind of like Brigadoon. Silly us.
If you’re still with me, thank you for indulging this minor fit of melancholy, which I shall now attempt to put back in the box with the double-secret code on the lock. Nobody needs that stuff on a day we’re just grateful to spend together, alive and well, so tomorrow will be about the right-now, the life we have, and the people we love.
I wish the same for you, complete with everything you need.
The calendar says we’re more than two weeks out since the election but there’s no way my brain could have told me that on its own because the markers have been few and far between. It’s always unsettling to sail through a state of limbo, precisely because of the inherent uncertainty. Also, the relative quiet compared to previous experiences with the former guy feels, may I say, a little ominous. We’re watching the potential for chaos build by the day with each nomination to what resembles a junk drawer more than a presidential cabinet, and we see plenty of concern to be had, but since we are simply the embodiment of “the vermin within” our input has neither been sought, nor will it. Our task is to survive bodily and to handle the changes as they come at us. None of us know yet how swiftly or drastically those changes will be implemented; therefore, limbo. I can’t decide whether to keep trying to make the world a better place, or look for a safe vantage point while we watch the drama unfold.
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I had hoped the following from Rod Serling in 1964 was true:
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We dared to entertain brave hopes of a nation once again united… but were we EVER that? I think not.
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It’ll make the happiest of old ladies grumpy.
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Things we know at this auspicious point in time:
Our daily reality as Americans will most likely look very different this time next year, and I’m pretty sure the general population is in no way prepared.
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Unfortunately, the country seems to have cornered the market on denial, so actual communication among factions is still at a premium. For nine years we’ve waited for his day to be done, waited to be free of his voice and leering mugshots, waited for him to disappear from our TV screens. Instead, this is life for the next four years, and maybe ’til I die, which pisses me off beyond words, as does THIS:
How dare woman-bots malfunction?! And then proceed to destroy civilizations, more’s the pity. I’m surprised we’re allowed to drive cars and raise the babies we birth. Now that I think of it, we could easily lose both of those rights before it’s over. Best to remain philosophical, right?
Now that Jabberwocky has been anointed king, we must familiarize ourselves with the language and culture that attaches thereto, by which I mean catch up or get trampled. This is a new thing, a “fresh” experience, a mystery ride… are we buckled up?
In the aftermath of the election, a lot of us are still caught in that “a second plane just hit” moment of cognition, staring at the smoking ruins and silently thinking about our short list of options. Mexico’s newly-installed woman president has said that Americans are welcome in their expat communities, but that if somebody here sends them 200,000 Mexicans they’ll send an equal number of Americans the other direction across the border. Obviously turnabout is fair play, and why would Americans simply be accepted at face value after turning most of the nonWhite world away? Are we special or something? Moving sounds a little iffy for personal reasons, and I’m not real cranked on giving up my right to live here to a bunch of bullies anyway. They filed for divorce, why should WE move out? I saw yesterday, though, that Americans are fleeing the country like the “vermin from within” that we’ve been labeled, and I wish them nothing but positive results, it’s just that I think I’m too tired to follow them, depending on how this goes. I do know the survival instinct is strong. So, yeah… thx for listening.
I was reminded this week that during the COVID pandemic I used this blog to document the daily journey, and now I’m slipping into journal mode for the current trip into the unknown. Just a heads-up on that, although I write for me so it is what it is.
So… after the heavy silence that followed the voting, we’re starting to get a look at the “team” at the top, and here are just a few highlights:
Attorney General: Matt Gaetz, who was under investigation for sex trafficking until his nomination
HHS Secretary: Robert F. Kennedy Jr., whose views on both health and humans are bizarre at best
Defense Secretary: Pete Hegseth, a “television presenter” for the FOX network, who will no doubt be brilliant with all those thorny defense issues
Secretary of Homeland Security: Kristi Noem, who rewards lack of obedience with a bullet
Director of National Intelligence: Tulsi Gabbard, friend and possible side piece to Vlad, and challenge to the term “intelligence”
Department of Government Efficiency: Elon Musk AND Vivek Ramaswamy, otherwise known as the Department of Redundancy Department
Deputy Chief of Staff for Policy and Homeland Security Adviser: Stephen Miller, who stands alone in the lineup for his ability to morph from Jewish human to Nazi
Can you say kakistocracy, boys and girls?
noun
a state or society governed by its least suitable or competent citizens.
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The Former Guy is either baffling us with bullshit to keep us from noticing that Elon bought in as co-president, or he’s hoping everyone will be so inept he’ll look like a genius by comparison, then he can fire them and run it all himself, or quite likely both. None of which takes into account what the voices in his head will be telling him by inauguration time, so as I said up there somewhere, it’s gonna be a trip.
Nothing puts us in our place quicker than events over which we have zero control, so those are the most disheartening and therefore damaging. Things happen, we register the shock to our psyches, and then, because we’re human and it’s in us, we start trying to process the whole thing. Unfortunately in this case (post-election) there are big chunks missing from the narrative, unwieldy boxes full of things we don’t know, power loose in places we’ve underestimated, so we’re left to piece together the governmental and societal cataclysm that’s been set in motion, one which will eventually change every aspect of life in our nation if allowed to run unchecked. Figuring out exactly what’s happened to us and what the everliving hell we can do about it is like assembling a 5,000-piece jigsaw puzzle in the dark.
We don’t know how deep and wide the corruption is, but apparently it’s become the end-all-be-all entity in this situation, and we regular peons have no weapon against a concerted determination toward total control. Lots of “regular peons” are actually saying they WANT to be ruled, WANT to be told what to do, and we’ll see how long that attitude holds. Those same regulars think they’ll be immune to the downside of oligarchy, and that’s just sadly laughable. We aren’t all in the same boat, but we’re all floating on the same crowded pond.
I’m not old, but at 77 most young people (under 30) would consider me ancient. Still, I have yet to make any such noises as: “life’s too hard, I’ve been here long enough, time for me to shuffle off to Buffalo and leave it to the kids,” because I’m not finished living. Somewhere along the way I asked for a long life, and I did at the same time think to ask that my life not turn ugly and scary before it reaches its end, but here we are, we rarely get everything we ask for.
If we survive this era, it will be because we remembered how to love and care for each other. What I’ve seen to this point makes me a skeptic. Prove me wrong, world.
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Something Americans traditionally have a difficult time with.
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Your life, my life, the life of the nation. We’re really here.
Here we are, kids, facing trauma of a sort that hasn’t been seen within our shores until now. It’s a heavy thing, watching night close in, knowing our way of life is more than likely ending in favor of a terrifying unknown. But as the numbness and DENIAL start to wear off a bit our psyches move into other stages of grief, and next up is ANGER. Elizabeth Kübler-Ross taught us that the five primary grief levels are DENIAL, ANGER, BARGAINING, DEPRESSION, and ACCEPTANCE, but also that those levels don’t remain in a nice neat order or follow an easy progression, and let me just say that ANGER feels like it’s setting in for the longterm. I mean, who the hell would I BARGAIN with anyway… I’ve had quite enough of DEPRESSION over the last decade… and ACCEPTANCE? Seriously?
There’s no accepting that my Black and Brown friends’ lives will become infinitely more fraught with danger, my trans friends will be exposed to unspeakable jeopardy, my gay friends and family will have to make decisions about safe places to live, somewhere on the planet, anyone who is different will be subject to scrutiny requiring them to justify their own existence. Lives will be in a state of upheaval for the foreseeable future so I can find no form of acceptance in my heart for the fact that people I once trusted have bowed the knee to a madman filled with hatred for the world and everything in it.
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The people who voted in favor of fascism seem to think we’ve simply had another transition from one political party to another, when what we’ve done is shifted into an entirely new way of being, and we don’t know yet what that will look like. Those same people believe they’re the favored ones and what happens to us won’t happen to them.
They know not what they’ve done.
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Nothing about the next four years and the ones thereafter will be easy, so we’ll all definitely know what we’re made of if we survive intact. There are things to keep in mind as dusk approaches:
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The world we wanted, the one where everybody gets to be who they are, is still a bridge too far and we see that now, don’t we. I’ve unbelieved a lot of things, but I’ll always believe that beautiful world exists… if only we knew how to live in it.
There’s still much to process so it’s really lame that my processor is on the fritz this week. Heart says “address this stuff,” brain says “let’s do another iPad painting.” I would describe myself today as uncomfortably numb.
It’s funny, I almost feel worse for the rest of the civilized world than for the U.S. population. We’ve been busy screwing things up, all the while they’ve continued to think we knew what we were doing. Surprise!
Don’t we all.
Some perspective:
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It only happens to “lesser societies,” right?
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Sometimes communication with people we care about suffers, not because we hate them but because we’ve made each other feel that the other doesn’t really matter, a sorry human trait.
So here we are. What was to have been a healing interval in American history will instead be an unsettling exercise in survival as a nation and as a population. The Reagan-era fascists hung in there like dogs, faithfully passing the torch to each new set of believers and simultaneously tearing away at the foundations of democracy until the Golden Goose of New York City fell into their hands, after which it was simply a matter of time. America won’t have to wait long before the effects start to show up; therefore, I’m leaving this here for posterity so we can all reminisce later:
We’ve either been steamrolled… or we’ve been had. Either way, it seems to be over for democracy-loving citizens, although we gave it a mighty effort, at least in terms of righteous indignation over the possibilities.
Those unthinkable possibilities have arrived on a silver platter, and we can expect events to unfold very quickly, no time wasted in bringing this former proud nation to its knees. So unless you’re solely motivated by hate and revenge, prepare to have your life stripped of everything that makes it meaningful and livable.
This isn’t a drill, it’s all really happening. We woke up this morning to see that we’ve been quietly taken over by patient fascists who were fronted by clowns in order to keep us distracted. Step by determined step they’ve actually done it… brought the mighty United States of America down to their level, and now we’re a captive audience while events play out.
It’s going to be a steep learning curve for his “chosen ones.” At least the rest of us already know how this works.
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I’ll meet you right here as soon as they turn some of the lights back on. Stay safe.
Merry Election Eve, boys and girls, we’re finally almost there after a long tedious slog, but I must say this feels like the opposite of preChristmas excitement and more like existential dread. When the incident pictured below happened nine years ago that should have been the end of it. Instead it was the start of a continuous succession of unPresidential shenanigans, by which I mean crimes. He’s always showed us exactly who he is. Can we be done now, and will the tattered threads of democracy still hold?
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Since the day the polls opened here I’ve been antsy to vote early, but for once in my life tradition constrains me. Our official polling place is in the historic old Cider Gallery, now an art museum and event venue, so it always feels appropriately weighty to exercise our citizenship there, followed by breakfast at The Roost and maybe a Bloody Mary to mark the occasion. And then if all goes well, we’ll be on our balcony tomorrow night making noise.
The Cider Gallery
It feels like an eternity has passed since November 8, 2016, a date that truly will live in infamy. The events of that day, and all the ones to follow, have altered life for every soul within our shores, and ended the lives of over a million during the COVID peak. No quarter has been left untouched, no person unchanged. We’ve come close to losing everything that matters… and for no valid reason other than ego. Can we step back from the abyss now and come home to reality? Together somehow?
We’re tired. Exhausted from the effort required to hold it together for ourselves and everyone around us. We need peace and rest as a nation while we try learning to trust each other again. I hope we all find safe harbor.
When you were a kid, did your mom stretch a little clothesline between two points and fill it with the dates remaining until Christmas? Each day you’d remove the clothespin from the current page as your anticipation and excitement grew, hoping Christmas morning would bring sweetness you couldn’t even imagine.
And now we’re waiting day by day for either a desperately needed taste of heaven, or the Christmas from hell, feeling like the children we still are, hoping against hope for things to be right, tamping down the niggling fears with mindless activity, snapping at loved ones and generally being a pain. Doesn’t exactly feel like good ol’ Christmas Past, BUT WE’RE NOT GOING BACK because we don’t have that choice anymore. Either heaven or hell is in the process of enveloping us or obliterating us, and the not knowing is a test for the ages.
Last night America’s implicitly-acknowledged fascist presidential candidate held a rally in Madison Square Garden, just as the American Nazi party did in 1939. It was predictably ugly. Racist, bigoted, mean-spirited, crushingly negative. If there are truly people still straddling the fence between life and death, that’s a staggering thing to accept.
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The R ticket, both of them, have said they’ll send the military for the “enemies among us,” meaning all who didn’t vote for them, and mos def for people who’ve been mouthy about them. I should be afraid, I guess… and if it came right down to it my voice would probably shake… but they’re just gonna have to come for me, I’m too tired to move everything including my memories, and I’m not willingly going anywhere without all my kids. I hope.
If democracy prevails on November 5th, how long do you think it will take to repair the damage done over the past decade and more? We know it’s going to take time for the trump stench to fade… we’ve learned things about friends and loved ones that we can’t un-know or unsee, and trust is not a thing easily restored. It will always be heartbreaking to me that one of the worst humans to ever walk the earth was able to foment such division between people who knew better but followed him anyway… or didn’t.
A relative’s warning sign on social media will stay with me forever: IF YOU DON’T BELIEVE TRUMP WON WE CAN’T BE FRIENDS. This era has definitely brought home the lesson that blood is NOT thicker than politics, and for someone who believed all the family fairytales, that’s a comeuppance, but not the first.
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My biggest HOPE hit is coming from the massive army of women, right about now cresting the horizon and temporarily blotting out the sun. The bullies have left us no choice and WE ARE NOT GOING BACK. They should be thankful we only want justice, not revenge.
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And in a gesture of solidarity with my reading public…
How many times in your life have you hit cycles that required you to wait, and wait… and wait… sometimes for decades. And at no point during the wait did you know how it would all turn out. That’s the trick, being ready no matter what happens. Prepared, if necessary, to leave everything you’ve known and loved, for almost 80 years in my case, trusting that life will go on, as it always does.
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“All of the sudden,” the wait is nearly at an end, and it almost doesn’t seem real that after everything that’s happened over the past nine or ten years we’re within two weeks of knowing our fate as a nation. Less than two weeks to settle the basic question: Will we be a dictator-run oligarchy or a democratic republic?
Every part of who we are as Americans hinges on this election. We can’t erase what has happened, so what we stand up for NOW is who we will be going forward. The world is standing by, watching anxiously to see what will happen here. Will we still represent hope, or be counted among the rubble fascism always leaves in its wake? Just another domino in a succession of fallen nations with lofty ideals. How heartbreaking! Are people really willing to let us end that way?
Remember the night of November 8, 2016? Remember the tears and how sick with dread we were, knowing life was about to become very difficult… and indeed it did. We were aghast that someone so awful had been placed in the White House… and he STILL refuses to go away and leave us in peace.
And now, running for president again, still, ad infinitum is this 2x impeached candidate with 34 felony convictions, how insane is that? As a convicted felon, he can’t vote. As a convicted felon, he can’t join the military, but as president he would be its “leader.” Makes my head swim. He’s a rapist, a pedophile, a career criminal, a friend to Putin and others like him. How did we get here?
After years of angst and concern, we’re within 21 days… three weeks… of knowing whether there will be a peaceful transfer of power this time, and who will hold what used to be the most important office on the planet. We have three weeks to climb down off the “undecided” fence and state with our vote whether we choose democracy or fascism, the only question on the ballot. As Americans we tend to think we’re fairly untouchable… magically blessed somehow. We aren’t used to facing stark reality the second we open our eyes in the morning. Reality, however, has come to roost on our doorstep and demands to be faced NOW.
The MAGA party is confronted with a classic bait-and-switch. The corpulent reeking hulk formerly known as King Drumpf is crumbling and decomposing before our eyes. Try watching and listening to one of his most recent rallies, which are now being held in the afternoon before he starts sundowning TOO badly. Even then things aren’t going smoothly in any way, and there was a credible report that he soiled his diaper during one recent speech, necessitating the spraying of a strong scent in his vicinity. This is a potential U.S. president. His diet is awful, his drug use rampant, his exercise nonexistent. Whether he’s drooling on his french fries by January, or face down in them, everybody gets JD by default, a fascist to the core and far more dangerous than the orange clown. It’s likely that JD or someone synonymous with him was the plan from the get-go.
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Since I’m not a compliant lil’ ol’ lady, and have said my piece all over the internet, I have to wonder if it would even be wise for me to stick around if the party of revenge were to win. JD says they’re going to send the military out to round up everyone who didn’t vote for them, so my voting record, let alone my words, would likely damn me to their version of hell. Crazy to think about, but they simply ARE crazy, so we’re on our own if they win.
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In my late 70s now, I have no urge to relocate and start over yet again, and leaving loved ones behind would be a bridge too far, so here we are. I would benefit at this point from a conversation with my great- and great-great grandparents who left Germany to keep nine young brothers from being conscripted into Kaiser Bill’s army and made a good life here in eastern Kansas. Even more, I’d like to talk with a German contemporary from the 1940s. What were the vital signs, both early and late? What kept you from leaving your homeland? If you could do it over, would you choose to stay or flee?
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This being no time to fall apart, I’ll pray for a dry spell and keep on keeping on, bearing in mind this admonition from a wise man…
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The idea that there are “others” who are not like us is what keeps hate simmering. Are we ready yet to turn off the fire?
It’s officially fall and the weather has been changing for a while now, by which I mean every day into something different from the day before. Apparently we’ve just emerged from a season called False Fall and are now into Second Summer. We’ll see where it goes from here, observing as spectators while Weather does what it will do.
Fall is always a melancholy reflective season, and true to form my thoughts have been a concoction of things heavy and light, happy and sad, profound and sublimely ridiculous. In the midst of all that I started a list the other day of personal do’s and don’ts in life’s third trimester. There’s no place I yearn to return to, so life has just one direction… forward. And I needed a little self-help with that, thus the list. The points are for me, not for advice, but if something resonates with you don’t hesitate to claim it for yourself.
So, in no special order, as they popped into my head:
I’ve stopped going to funerals, for all the reasons. My all-time personal hero oncology nurse showed me I’m not a bad person for skipping out. Do life while it’s here, no regrets, because if you’re not careful the ceremonies will overwhelm actual living.
I don’t give money to politicians unless they’re running at grassroots level and don’t have big resources. The rest start with kajillions and then ask ME for money? And then for MORE, repeatedly??
I try not to schedule morning appointments because they’re an unnecessary assault on my senses. There’s a window between lunch and dinner when I’m fully awake and human, so life outside my door is best if it happens during the afternoon hours. You know, if possible.
I don’t take advice from people whose moral code I can’t respect. People say lots of words, but when they give legs to their coldheartedness I walk away.
I don’t chase people. If you’re my friend you just are, end of story, and we always pick up where we left off.
I don’t argue online or anywhere else except for the shit I give Kim. Arguing is a demeaning process and rarely produces anything positive. People think what they think, me included.
To save misunderstandings and exhausting back & forths, I spare most people my presence most of the time. This Pollyanna has gotten over the delusion that we’re going to land on the same page and feel comfortable together again, if we ever were.
After being around older people forever, and taking care of six of them for twelve years, I had a pretty clear idea what aging would involve. Ha, ya’ think? Every day brings a surprise you weren’t waiting for, every year new challenges, things aren’t static, they change constantly, your body betrays you and so does your head. You can experience these things second-hand without absolutely KNOWING them, so expect the unexpected.
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9. Very little anymore requires my complete and undivided attention. I can still pull it up when necessary and I take it out for the occasional walk to keep it in shape. It’s on reserve, just behind the lala-life I prefer. But since complete and undivided usually denotes a problem of some sort I avoid it every way possible.
10. Mail is the bane of my existence. Doesn’t matter, snail mail or online, I can’t stick to my resolve to open every piece of information every single day, so I’m left with bulk mail that means nothing to anybody… except for THAT ONE PIECE that can’t be discarded on penalty of law!!!
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11. I have no energy for trying to convert people to a life outlook that begins with kindness. Those are the people who will talk their hair down trying to convince me how Christian they’ve always been, while fearing and despising everyone and everything not like them.
12. I’ve loved people all my life who have silently hated everything I care about while also finding me an entertaining source of gossip. That’s okay, Karma knows. The true challenges come when people I care about hate people I love. Simply a bridge too far, so adjustments have to be made.
13. If everyone suddenly liked learning new things and putting new ideas to work, the world would look shinier overnight.
There. A baker’s dozen, take or leave.
And one more: Everyone who doesn’t want fascism to replace democracy on American soil should have a current passport at the ready because we can’t see the immediate nor long-term future. The German population, right about now, thought everything was going to be okay. It wasn’t. Things are changing rapidly across our nation, which has been instantly reflected on social media, but all optimism has to be tempered with the memory of past horrifying October surprises and other killing disappointments.
The United States may continue as an intact entity or it may not. Either way, the election will be over someday, we must assume, and I’ll revert to Ms. Nice Person Who Doesn’t Talk About Things We Simply Don’t Talk About. And if the good guys win I’ll be a more accessible, less irritated old girl, more inclined to entertain the lighter side of living. What I will never be able to do is forget what so many people showed me and the rest of the world about themselves, people we once thought we knew and identified with.
It’s been an unnerving era, with ugliness abounding and hate winning out a lot of the time. I’ll open the door to my 80s in three years… how many of the wounds, how much of the heartbreak, do you think we could heal in that time frame, just for starters? I so hope the world won’t feel as cold and lonesome as it has over the past ten years and more. I’ve learned this much: being a nice person doesn’t cut it anymore, the world has changed. I’ve changed too… but I was raised to be nice and it feels okay as long as I don’t forget what truth looks like. Does America remember?
A lot of things have taken place over the past couple of weeks, one of which is that smiling and laughing are suddenly de rigueur again, praise be! For someone who was unceremoniously told, decades ago, that she laughs like a chicken, it’s like being let out of the henhouse to roam free! Be YOU, you crazy lil’ bandy-legged chick, nobody CARES!
So while our Sister in Joy and Laughter was busy making history, this girl here turned double 7s, which I believe is highly lucky. If you know otherwise, please don’t spoil my illusions, thx. I love the fact that I’ve made it this far, but already being within binocular range of 80 is messing with my head a little, so adjustments must be made and you know what THAT means… she’s thinking again.
I started blogging some 15 years ago on another platform in response to my son’s suggestion that it might be therapeutic. He was right, I loved it immediately, and when the original site folded I found Word Press and kept cranking out whatever was on my mind on any given day. Obviously, over that many years changes have taken place… and age has joined the chat. Profound shock. There is absolutely nothing other than being old on the inside (a tragedy) that could truly prepare a girl for her third trimester of living, nothing. But I’ve been here sharing insights for a bunch of years now, and been painfully honest with you in what I’ve said, and that won’t change… so buckle up.
“These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call.” P. Simon
These are the days of the medical Rolodex, the recurring appointments with doctors and their teams, keeping the vehicle running. These, if you’re lucky and spoiled, are the days of pedis and haircuts and massages that truly do extend life by making it better.
These are the days of steroid shots in the joints, extra attention to the chompers, and various other things which, much like the Spanish Inquisition, NO ONE EVER EXPECTS.
These are the days when your optometrist skips most of the preliminaries and says “Let’s talk about your cataracts.”
These are the days of skin cancer paybacks for those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer. The ones we thought would never end.
What gets your attention is the acceleration. One day you’re like “Well, not too bad so far. Doin’ what I can,” and the next you wake up to major mayhem that apparently occurred while you were sleeping. This spiral of crepe here when I turn my arm… when did that start? And these bingo arms! There are jowls in progress? How rude! The supreme sense of languid laziness every single morning when I’d planned to be a ball o’ fire for a change… it’s ubiquitous, as is the faint whiff of guilt that attends my daily existence. Welp, girl, that’s the way it is, walk it off.
After an incredible nine years of turmoil and division as a people, combined with the introspection it has sparked, this is a true statement:
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Kids, here are the facts this morning as I know them. Our world is getting better not worse. Joy and laughter are not buried forever under the rubble of political correctness and planet-wide catastrophe. We’re still HERE! That means hope is alive and well. I’m catching this bus.
To be perfectly legit about it, fall doesn’t start for another couple of weeks, but it’s already making its imminent arrival known. I haven’t checked the record books, but August seemed more fall than summer this year, with cooler days and nights outpacing the hot ones.
It was a summer of change in myriad ways, many of which I’m still processing. Things I know for sure at this point: I like joy more than doom, happiness more than rage, hope more than despair, and WE ARE NOT GOING BACK.
A harbinger. This tree was the first on our street to turn orange last year, but only precisely half the tree. Today it’s already in full-on fall mode, so here we go.
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What we did this summer in lieu of a vacation was take day trips. I’ll tell you a little about those, complete with Kim’s photos, in a future post, hopefully soon. The thing I want most to do these days is write, but it mostly isn’t happening. Too much still hangs in the balance and I can’t focus. But HOPE is holding its spot in the universe and life is still the place to be.
Back with “travel” pics ASAP. Meanwhile, I don’t like to lose touch with you…
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Welcome to my weekly blog on life's happiness. We are all human and we all deserve to smile. Click a blog title or scroll down. Thanks for stopping by.
Creative humour, satire and other bad ideas by Ross Murray, an author living in the Eastern Townships of Quebec, Canada. Is it truth or fiction? Only his hairdresser knows for sure.
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