Odd inconveniences, a good dinner, and Omigosh! What are Republicans doing to poor Ukraine

 

This morning I woke to a gray, dull day that seemed to threaten rain at any moment. Stretching and lying in bed enjoying the moment, I thought a day of reading and napping sounded just perfect. Of course, that’s not what happened. Jordan and I were out the door at 9:15 for a doctor’s appointment for me. All is well, and I got a good report, including praise for doing all the things I should—vaccinations, mammograms, etc. But I will have to take a swallow test because I’ve been having difficulty swallowing large pills lately, pills that I’ve taken for years with no problem. My doctor explained I would drink barium and they would x-ray it going down—yuck! It’s been over thirty years since I had to drink barium and I still have not-so-pleasant memories. What struck this osteopathic child was that my doctor did not palpate my throat (he said if it were thyroid there’d be a big and visible mass) and he didn’t look down my throat. He knew, without touching me, what the problem was—almost certainly not serious—and how to deal with it. But I grew up in the old days when a doctor laid hands on. I guess, like many things, I have to learn to adapt. He did come in physical contact to listen to hear and lungs and examine the healing lesion on my scalp.

When we left the doctor’s office, the sun was peeking out, and the day ultimately turned out to be pretty. I meant to get someone to take pictures of my wildflowers but didn’t get it done. But we came home to no water—it’s not as though the whole block was cut off. It was just our house. Christian called the water department, and they said it was probably a problem with our meter. They would have someone out to fix it today. Fortunately, I had leftovers in the fridge for lunch, but it was a bit frustrating to leave the unrinsed decision in the sink. To say nothing of not flushing the toilet. My nap came in handy because when I woke up, the water was back on. I don’t say this often, so here’s a cheer for the Fort Worth Water Department.

Christian fixed chicken piccata tonight following a Southern Living recipe and I made cheese grits from the same source, plus we had the cucumber salad I made earlier in the week. A really good dinner, if a bit lemony. After all these years, Southern Living is still my go-to.

Tonight I shared Dan Rather’s daily column on my Facebook page. I hope you’ll take time to read it. Rather, whom I admire a great deal, points out that by stalling aid to Ukraine Republicans in the House are fulfilling Putin’s every wish. Ukraine, which has already suffered so badly in the name of democracy for all of us, is losing territory (and men) in the eastern part of the country. MAGA Republicans don’t seem to get it through their thick heads that the freedom of Europe is a stake, and if Europe falls America is at best isolated, at the worst without trade partners and vulnerable to miliary takeover. To me, it’s as simple as teaching math to a first grader—two plus two equals Russia steamrolls across Europe. Marjorie Taylor Greene, the dimmest bulb in Congress, says Putin claims he wants no more land, just Ukraine, and she believes him. I have a bridge in Arizona to sell her. As Rather says, men like Mike Johnson are playing politics with people’s lives. Is Johnson stalling because he’s afraid of losing his speakership? I cannot tell. It’s too late to hold his caucus together—that ship sailed long ago. I suspect his motivation lies in his recent trips to Mar-a-Largo, and the idea that trump is pulling political strings to get back in the presidency, as the cost of man’s lives on the battlefield, is so abhorrent I’m speechless. And I can’t even begin to contemplate what would happen to poor Ukraine if trump weaseled his way back into the Whie House.

Please do whatever you can—write your congressman, your senator, anyone who can put pressure on Johnson. I suspect Democrats will swallow hard and support him because they simply don’t want the upheaval of having to choose another speaker, poor choice though he is. Without saying that, maybe reassure him. We’ve got to raise our voices and get the off dead center. It’s unconscionable.

Seems rather silly after that to say, “Sweet Dreams,” but that’s my wish for you. And maybe positive thoughts about the world situation.

Bitter end to a good day

 

The sun came out, the snow started to melt, and my hot water came back on. Great day. But a nagging something in the back of my mind told me it wasn’t over yet. This afternoon Jordan and Christian were out for a long time, came home late, and she put a casserole in the oven—so it was 7:45 before she brought it out here. Christian followed and said in the most solemn voice, “Jordan. I need to see you right now.”

They and three teenage boys gathered around an access hole to the deck and, watching from my window, I was afraid a dog had fallen down the hole. Jacob came to tell me the pipe, repaired two weeks ago, had burst—Christian say it’s the connection came loose, but I think the plumber may think it more serious. Anyway, I told Jacob they’d have to turn the water off at the street. Of course, no tools, and it was so stuck they couldn’t do it. A neighbor came to help. So now, with my hot water newly back on, I have no water!

To complicate things, I’d been trying to call our plumber all week just to ask if waiting out the hot water was the best thing, and I kept getting that annoying message from the phone company that my call could not be completed. I’ve done business with that plumbing company for twenty-five years and hate to switch to one where I am an unknown customer. Tonight, I think I have the cell phone for the plumber who always answers our calls. Left a message but will call again first thing in the morning.

Jordan brought me one pitcher of water, very heavy, which she said was to use to flush the potty. I told her I’d rather use it to wash hands, brush teeth, etc. But it is indeed very heavy.

Yesterday a good friend emailed they had a pipe burst (also an old house) and were collecting snow in the bathtub for flushing. She sent a picture of icebergs floating in their tub. And that’s when I suspected that maybe getting rid of the tub in a remodeling wasn’t without its drawbacks.

In the melee, Sophie got locked out of the house. Talk about an indignant dog. She’s unhappy anyway because we have run out of the treats she usually gets with her dinner. They shipped, but we’ve had no deliveries. Can’t explain that to a dog, so she barks at me. She is now inside, and I have given her a bit of Velveeta as compensation.

I just knew we’d gotten off too light. But still, I am grateful. I think we are among the fortunate few. We’ll be fine.