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Friday, June 28, 2024

Oh, Dear

Joe can't seem to get it together.  He looks and sounds like he'd rather be asleep.

Trump is looking alert and somehow is making coherent sentences come out of his mouth.  

I want to reach out and close Joe's lips together.  He may think it looks surprised.  It comes across as vapid.

The Lying Liar is at his usual tricks, but he's doing it with energy.  Joe's got some points somewhere among the word salad he's struggling over.  

It's breaking my heart.  

I watched so you didn't have to.  TBG wanted to change the channel after five minutes.  For you, we watched the whole thing.

The talking heads are reporting panic in the upper ranks of the Democratic political machine.  Their potential nominee looked vulnerable tonight.  

I fear for our democracy.

Thursday, June 27, 2024

What Do You Do With Them

The USPS delivers nothing but advertisements and requests for donations.  I recycle the former and open the latter, only because there are usually prizes inside.

Sometimes there's a nickel or a dime.  Sometimes there is a forever stamp.  I know what to do with those.

Sometimes there's a dream catcher or a reusable shopping bag or a lighted magnifying glass.  Those I put in my GRIN box to be given away to the Prince scholars. 

Often, there are memo pads, which I find quite wonderful. Unlike my son, I rely on paper and pencil for quick notes.  Grabbing my phone to make a list never crosses my mind.

Then there are the address labels.  Today's, from St. Jude, are decorate with olive green leaves and branches. They follow the previous red white and blue patriotic themed labels that came last week.  Yesterday brought animals and waterfalls from the Sierra Club.  Sloane Kettering sends me plain labels emblazoned with a large capital letter enhancing my last name.

I have pastel tea cups and coffee pots from something called LLSusa and random designs from Christian Appalachian Project.  I have no ide why I received them; I just wonder what list they bought.  

Boys Town and the ASPCA have sent me labels.  They've also sent Little Cuter labels, with my address. 

I put labels on my mahjongg cards and on the tools I brought to Master Gardeners.  I cover the pre-printed return address on USPS mailing labels with pretty ones from my stash.  I write lots of snail mail for which I carefully select and stick my return address,  Hand writing it would be more elegant, but I have all these labels lying around.

I have labels in a desk drawer, labels in an envelope in the closet, labels in the kitchen junk drawer.  I have labels in The UV's glove compartment.  

What am I going to do with them all?  Will my children have to ask the same question after I'm gone?  I laughed at G'ma's stash, then got a little teary when I threw them all away.  Perhaps there's an art project lurking beneath the surface.... at least that is what I tell myself when I add yet another sheet to the ever growing pile.

Am I the only one who wrestles with this?

Wednesday, June 26, 2024

Spelling Bee




I walked past Walgreens' mini clinic this morning,  on my way to buy TBG some cough syrup. 

The decal attracted my attention, as all No Firearms signage does.  It made me smile.  I felt protected. 

I looked closer, and I sighed.

It feels churlish to complain.  Perhaps I can compliment them on taking care and gently bring the error to their attention. 

Because,  in all fairness,  both TBG and I took a moment,  just to be sure.