Rest In Peace, Thomas the Wonder Dog

He lived 15 years with his adoptive family, loving SIR and Little Cuter first, then adding FlapJilly and Giblet as they came along.  He accepted TBG as his Grandpa, trotting over to him, leash in mouth and tail wagging, as we put down our suitcases in the hall.  My husband didn't need a dog of his own; he had his Grand Dog.

He was the fastest, smartest, strongest fellow, routinely being asked to retrieve balls for owners whose own pets were unable to swim that far.  

He was the most patient and kind and loving pooch.  His periscope tail left him exposed to FlapJilly's Baby Proctologist forefinger.  We stopped it just barely in time, but he didn't flinch.  The kids perched headphones precariously over his ears and he shrugged and went along with it.  

He was alert to every intruder in the area, barking sonorously at bicycles and other dogs and random trucks and cars.  They didn't need an alarm; they had Thomas.  

His snuggles are legendary.  

His eyes burned a loving memory in our hearts.  

He was finished with this world, which was so lucky to have him for such a lovely long time.

Rest In Peace.

Maybe Tomorrow

My plan was to expound on Taos Bubbe's plan of action.  We were college roommates on the edges of the effort to stop the draft and the war and we ended up closing Cornell two Springs in a row and thwarting LBJ's run for reelection.   

As she said,  we were loud, we were disruptive,  and we were colorful. We were young,  as were most of our compatriots across the country,  and we stuck together, making noise,  until we could no longer be ignored. 

There's a lot more to say on the matter,  but I'm her lagged and altitude readjusting and my heart's just not in it. 

Maybe tomorrow. 

Starting The Day Off Right

Bluesky (find me @ClumsyGrammy - Giblet's moniker for me) was awash in the end of democracy.  I'm still surprised at the unconstitutionality of FFOTUS' Executive Orders; why, I do not know. There was ranting and raving from the usual suspects,  most aimed at the White House,  but many targeting the  feckless Democrats who refuse to do more than send angry letters upstream. 

There was a script to use when calling one's elected officials.  I dialed Juan Ciscomani's Tucson office and read it to Brendan,  the lovely gentleman who answered the phone.  He said the Congressman had called the White House,  "sent a Q &A" requesting information,  and reassured me that Social Security,  Medicare,  Medicaid, SNAP, and Pell Grants were still operational. Further research found that to be marginally accurate but I didn't have all the information at the time so couldn't refute it. 

I wondered if the Congressman was concerned about those who use Meals on Wheels. Starving lonely seniors didn't sit right with me.  I reiterated my larger point - the fact that the House, not the Executive, holds the nation's purse strings.  It's Civic 101.  Was the Congressman concerned about that? 

He had no answer.  I thanked him, hung up the phone (a phrase with no meaning any more except for those of us still clinging to our landlines), and turned to my messages. 

There was JannyLou, claiming to be unable to insulate herself from the barrage. I could have texted back,  but I clicked on the phone icon instead. 

We laughed.  We cried. We howled at the wind.  

We ended by agreeing that we were now fortified to give the outside world a chance. 

It was a much better way to start the day. 

Better Late Than Never

The day got away from me.  Actually, two days sped by without my paying much attention to anything except my expanded family.

1440 has replaced the NYTimes and WaPo as my early morning news fix.  It's fact based information curated by humans, not an algorithm.  This morning it told me that Colombia, like Mexico, was refusing to allow FFOTUS's deportation airplane to land.  A mini tariff squabble ensued.  There were links to follow for a deeper dive, but I'm trying to limit my doom scrolling.

It also mentioned that an alcoholic, serial abuser was confirmed as Secretary of Defense.  I certainly avoided those links.

Instead, I went downstairs to hug the babies.  I invite to you to pretend and do the same:

 

Don't Tell Me To Ignore What I Saw

 

This was not an expression of love for the audience.

Those who live where it started understand that.

So should we.

Do not let them gaslight you.

Stupidity

Stupidity

Having trouble dealing with those you love who've somehow gone over to the dark side? 

I know that I am.  It breaks my heart.  I feel helpless and flummoxed and at a loss for words.... which,  for me,  is really saying something.  

As if she felt my angst over the miles,  Susie Q sent this today. 

Clear, thoughtful, and beautifully illustrated,  it's worth a listen over lunch. 

Bonhofer on Stupidity

A Brief Respite From The Broligarchy

MLK Day

The MAGA hats are disappointed.  Their fearless leader won't be outside to see how few of them showed up.  His Inaugural Committee has ordered that the Jumbotrons be removed, so there won't be an outdoor live performance of any kind. Many are asking for refunds of their hotel and travel expenses (good luck with that,  but keep buying those coins, boots, and bibles).

Democracy dies in darkness. 

WaPo used to have this as a header, but its avatar will be in the Rotunda (oh, wait, they know how to get in there; no refund needed) so his hair doesn't get mussed. The rest of us will weep as Democracy sobs. 

I leave you with 2 things as we DON'T WATCH:

1. Do something for someone else today,  in honor of a man who saw the goodness and promise of our society. 

2. Enjoy this cartoon. 

Dear Sen. Joni Ernst

Re: Confirming Pete Hegseth

"I was so busy keeping my job that I forgot to do my job."

(Michael Douglas in The American President)

Indulge Me

There were MagnaTiles for connecting and for playing peek-a-boo, which is extremely adorable when said with a toddler's Russian accent.

Mama read books.

Grandma was asked to take her for a walk. She brought me my shoes and said park, both of which were also quite adorable.  The sun was out and the park was empty and the slide was so much fun. 

We went to music class,  with 3 pony tails and a pretty dress.

We came home and I collapsed on the couch.  

Parenting is exhausting.  Grandparenting is tiring. 

Big Cuter reminds me every few hours, it's a marathon,  not a sprint. 

I'd be tired after either one.