Watching the returns tonight, after having to shush two
women (one of them my daughter) in my living room. Just my opinion, but I am
pleased to see Joe Biden doing so well. I love Bernie’s ideas, but I don’t
think they’re practical. I’m not sure he’s thought out the financing, and I’m
quite sure he’d never get his program through Congress. What we need now is
someone who knows how our government is supposed to work—you know, checks and
balances and all that stuff that the trump administration has cast aside.
Someone who can effectively begin to reverse the damage done to our country
economically, internationally, environmentally, morally. So I’m for Biden. You
may differ with me, and that’s okay—unless you think trump is the answer to our
problems. I draw the line there.
A
conundrum I’ve been thinking about. What’s more important to you? The way the
world sees you—your house, your car, your clothes? Or the way you see yourself?
Maybe that’s your integrity, values, etc. I think, like social awareness, that
putting more weight on how you think of yourself comes with age and a certain
kind of self-confidence. But I sure do like a new outfit, a new haircut,
someone who tells me I don’t look my age. Maybe the ideal, like a lot of things
in life, is a middle ground.
Totally
different topic: I have switched from election returns to HGTV. Yes, me, who
never watches TV. But friends turned their house over to designers for a
makeover, and I’m watching the result, which is truly spectacular—more open, cleaner
and more streamlined. Touches I would not want but are them. I don’t know that
I would ever be so brave as to leave it all in someone else’s hands, but they
are delighted with the results and I can see why. The makeover required that
they move out of their house—six weeks? Some long period. And that in itself
was a major undertaking. But now they are settled back in—a new space in an old
house. Truly intriguing.
Sophie
and I are at war. This morning she woke me at 5:30, 6:30 and 7:45. Aside from yelling
that I would strangle her (oh yes, the guilt), I decided maybe the poor baby
had a bladder infection. I vowed to watch her the entire day. And I did. I
watched her sleep—on the floor, on both of her favorite chairs, on my bed. She
only roused herself occasionally to go to a new spot. This was clearly not a
dog in distress. After feeling horrendously guilty for yelling at her this
morning, I switched tactics and had long, serious talks with her while rubbing
her ears. I’m not sure either technique impressed her. Right now, about
nine-thirty at night, she’s happily enjoying the night air, and I’m sure I’ll
have to bribe her to come back in. We’ll see what she does in the morning, but
I sure would like some morning sleep.
I’ve
had a nonspecific case of the blues this week—maybe anticipation of a book
signing trip this weekend to San Antonio which I’m actually looking forward to
but I do not travel easily. Or anticipation of a speaking engagement next week.
More likely it’s the widespread panic about the corona virus and uncertainty
about Super Tuesday. Today I managed to do most of the work of organizing my 2019
financial information for the accountant, which should be a relief. Next on my
agenda is to work on my notes for the talk. Logically I should be feeling
happier. We’ll see if my heart can follow my head.
How
about you? Ever have trouble reconciling how you feel with how you think you
should feel?
No comments:
Post a Comment