Groceries and other excitement

Big outing of the day was to the grocery store. We’ve found a new one—literally a new Tom Thumb, close to downtown where so many urban dwellers live these days. Its aisles are wide, and it’s rarely crowded. Perfect for my motorized cart adventures. Having been out of town most of the past week, I didn’t shop much last weekend, so my list was long today and my basket ended up full. Jordan and I separated, with the result that we bought two of some things, but that was easily straightened out.

I know a lot of people dread shopping, but for me it’s fun. I envision all the things I can cook with what I buy, and I have to restrain myself from buying—oh, say, eggplant. Nobody eats it but me. But I bought blackberries, which I intend to pickle. I never heard of pickled blackberries but in the last week I’ve found two recipes for them—one called for fish sauce. I’ll used the other recipe. I think I’ll put them in a salad.

Tonight, we had a dinner specially for Jacob, because tomorrow he goes to camp for two weeks: asparagus, which he just discovered he liked, to my great surprise and delight. And breaded and baked chicken fingers. His Aunt Lisa fixed both the last night we were in Tomball, and he anxiously added items to our grocery list so we could duplicate the meal. Hats off to Aunt Lisa for cooking success. And, since he told me he still likes it, we had sparkling cider, known around here as kid wine. Dessert? Drumsticks, which I bought specially because Jacob liked them. Tonight, he decided he wouldn’t eat them because he doesn’t like them. Then he seemed to change his mind and say later, but not now. By glory, I’m going to have mine now.

My political thought for the day: several senators are up at arms about the way President Trumpf is treating AG Jeff Sessions, and I’ve seen Facebook posts expressing sympathy for him, praise for his hanging tough. I abhor the way Trumpf is treating him, as I would that treatment of any person. It may be political—I’ve seen suggestions Trumpf is waiting until Congress recesses so he can fire Sessions and name a replacement without Congressional approval. I’m inclined to think though that this obvious daily humiliation is more the cowardly expression of a small man’s petty anger.

But I cannot summon up sympathy for Jeff Sessions. He is a holdover from the sixties, at least, a man who believes in the supremacy of straight white men, the degradation of minorities, and the second-class citizenship of women. His stance on immigration, police search and seizure and other things appalls me. He would take us back in time and undo the progress this nation has made, painfully and slowly, over fifty or so years. He must have known what kind of man he was signing on to support, though I will say the depths to which Trumpf has sunk have surprised most of us. But, no, no sympathy for Jeff Sessions.

Besides, he really does look like Granny from “The Beverly Hillbillies.”