I hate to go too
long without saying hello to my blog friends and posting something, anything.
But tonight, I’m afraid of lapsing into yet another rant about immigrant
children. The problem, the criticism, the agony, the horror are all over
Facebook, and I confess I’ve spent too much time on that website. It cheers me
to see the outrage because it reminds me that most people are indeed good souls
with compassion. On the other hand, I am reminded of what one TV news anchor
said—was it Chuck Todd, one of my least favorites?—that Trump takes up all the
air in the room, indeed all the air in the country, until we are forced to
focus on him. Which is probably part of his plan.
In spite of the
cruelty of Trump and Sessions and the heartbreaking situation of all those
children, daily life does go on for most of us. We are tonight awaiting the
arrival of Megan, my oldest daughter and second child, with Ford, the youngest
of her two sons. They were to arrive tomorrow but decided on the spur of the
moment to come tonight. Ford and Jacob will spend the week attending TCU
basketball camp. In previous summers, they’ve done the baseball camp, but the
little wimps decided they didn’t want to be out in the heat. Then again, who
can blame them? It got hot early and stayed there this year. Today was 95, but
the week ahead is predicted to stay in the lower 90s. I’ll take any bit of
relief.
A working weekend,
and I got quite a bit done. The Kelly O’Connell novel is at Amazon to have
advanced reading copies made. I must be learning because what I submitted met
their criteria the first time around. Yippee! And the cookbook is off to the
designer, although I’ve already sent a revised version. Today I was making fromage fort (strong cheese) for happy hour tonight and realized that the
recipe in the cookbook lacked a key ingredient—garlic. So I added it and added
the pasta salad I’d forgotten and sent it off again. I have promised not to do
that to the designer any more, so someone will have to help me with restraint.
Now about that recipe for Sauce Gribiche . . . . My trouble in proofing the
cookbook is that I came across so many things I want to cook.
The newlyweds from
last weekend’s wedding came by for a glass of wine tonight7, and Subie was here
too so we had a jolly, impromptu party. Lots of re-living the wedding, tales I
hadn’t heard or noticed, identification of people. Fun, except when they get
together they all talk at once, and I am never sure of the conversation. Still
it was lovely to have them here and see them looking so happy. The bride is a
thoroughly modern woman—but she couldn’t wait to take her new husband’s last
name. Good for her!
Tomorrow, church,
yard work, laziness. In the evening, Jordan and Christian are taking the two
boys to Concerts in the Park—it’s Christian’s Father’s Day treat. Megan and I
will have dinner in the cottage, and I’ll cook scallops with mushrooms in a lemon
sauce. Should be a lovely day.
But in the back of
my mind, I still see that Palestinian boy, so terrified, and now that
two-year-old Honduran girl whose crying picture has gone viral on the net. How
can we be so content, enjoying our daily lives, when there is so much misery in
the world, some of it so close to home? I need to go to church tomorrow.
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