Confused, angry, sad—and some small mishaps

I woke this morning sad and angry and confused, with thoughts tumbling in my mind. It seems today that anger is what binds most of us together. These tragedies are preventable, but politicians stand in the way. I sense a lot of anger on the internet. I wonder how trump and McConnell feel about the overwhelming backlash—and what they surely must recognize as a weak response from Republicans—49 out of 50 red legislators contacted by CNN refused to comment. There was criticism from an Ohio Republican member of the legislature and a stalwart Texas Tea Party supporter announced he will not run again—the fourth this week. The rats are deserting the ship.

Meantime trump woodenly read a speech he had neither written—word choice made that clear—nor read before. In it he blamed everything but guns—and cited the wonderful progress of his administration. Big deal—they outlawed bump stocks after the Las Vegas massacre. He blamed mental health—but he’s the one who made it easier for people with problems to buy guns. He blamed social media, which sounded to me suspiciously like a step toward censoring freedom of speech. He may not have written the speech, but he sure should have okayed it before he read it on national television.

Like everyone, I have my opinion on what should be immediate action: McConnell should haul his broken shoulder back to DC, reconvene the Senate, and consider legislation that the House passed months ago. Why has he stalled? We all know the answer to that. New and immediate legislation should outlaw assault weapons, require strict background checks, outlaw TV and gun show sales, and restore the domestic terrorism branch of the Department of Homeland Security. So clear cut, so simple, so safe.

My apologies. I’ve tried to keep politics out of my blog, but I am too angry, too upset to do it today. On a more personal note, the day didn’t go all that well. My walker almost lost a fight with a plastic cleaner’s bag—try as I might there are still bits of that sheer plastic wrapped around one wheel. That stuff is a wicked enemy. At first, I thought I was marooned and would have to wait until help arrived. My first concern was for the favorite gray sweater in the bag, but I managed to save it intact. Then I pulled endless plastic—and there’s still some left. I don’t expect time will make it go away.

My lunch date forgot about me. Luckily, she was to pick me up, so I wasn’t abandoned at a restaurant. I stewed that maybe she forgot and was waiting impatiently for me at the deli. Turned out okay, because Jordan agreed to pick up a chicken salad sandwich for me from Black Rooster. I love those sandwiches, have half left for my supper. And the lunch is rescheduled for later in the week.

Jacob came out to repay some money he owed me—and woke me from a sound nap to tell me he was repaying it. His presence activated Sophie, who jumped on the bed and began licking my face. I’m afraid I wasn’t gracious to either one, though I have since apologized.

Tomorrow will be a whole new day for me, but our country will still be shadowed by grief and frustration and anger. Maybe I’m a cockeyed optimist, but this time I think we’re all angry enough to effect change. I pray so.