Not much of anything and a whole lot of nothing

 

You may have missed it when I posted earlier, but Story Circle Network published a short piece of mine on their blog today. (For those who didn't know him, this is a picture of my ex, Joel Alter, after he finished a marathon, around 1980; I should mention that I was in the picture but got cropped out--perhaps a metaphor). Written some ten years ago, the piece is about my feelings the night Joel died. It was a piece that I found when I was scrabbling through notes and bits and pieces for a memoir. I posted a link to the piece on Facebook this morning and was highly flattered by the responses.  (https://www.storycircle.org/december-12-numb-and-puzzling-grief/) I’m thinking there is indeed a memoir in my future. Two projects remain between me and a memoir—Irene Deep in Texas Trouble—I’m almost at the end of the first draft now—and then my Helen Corbitt project. I have no idea how long it will take me, but it’s nice to have projects lined up before me.

Before I retired, I used to worry a lot about retirement, afraid that I would wake up in the morning and think, “What in the world will I do today?” So far, that has been far from the truth. I often wake up with my mind whirling with the things I have to get done. This week, it’s finish the Irene adventure and wrap Christmas gifts—two totally unrelated activities. Any Christmas cooking that can be done ahead is already done, though I may decide at the last minute to do something for extra gifts.

Blog writing is hard these days. My mind wants to be filled with Christmas trivia and goodies and music and all that goes with the season. But for this child of the Midwest, it’s just not looking a lot like Christmas. Today the yard guys came with mowers and blowers and when they finished the thick carpet of leaves was gone from the driveway and yard. But it took them forever to do it, with Sophie barking her displeasure all the time. Although we’ve had just occasional rain, it’s been so damp—and the leaves so wet—that there is mold growing on the patio. I hesitate to use bleach because of the dogs. Storms are predicted for tonight and a freeze highly possible for this weekend. A little snow would sure make it feel a lot more like Christmas.

Another blog problem: I don’t for right now feel the intensity of the political atmosphere that finally really culminated in Raphael Warnock’s re-election to the Senate. Fund-raisers are already pointing us toward 2024 with dire warnings that the Democrats need big war chests (I suppose the Republicans do too, but I don’t get those emails except in rare instances of misdirected mail—I do not want to hear from the likes of Newt Gingrich, thank you).

A few issues do spark my interest. The return home of Brittainy Griner is one of them (who knew she’s a Baylor alum?). I am continually incensed at columns and comments to the effect that she hates America. She proudly brought home two gold medals for her country—funny kind of hate. Even more objectionable are comments that she should have been left behind and Paul Whelan brought home. As several have pointed out, our country suddenly has a wealth of armchair hostage negotiators who know exactly what should have been done. They completely overlook the fact that Whelan’s freedom wasn’t offered, was never on the table. They think it makes a good story to embarrass President Biden who, to his everlasting credit, seems beyond embarrassment as he quietly goes about his job of doing good for the country.

Another issue that interests me is the fight for leadership in the Republican House caucus. I think McCarthy’s days are numbered, and I’m not at all sorry. He apparently has a poor grasp of government issues, and his lust for the speakership overrides any good sense he may once have had. I am afraid, though if he is defeated, someone really awful will take over—like MTG who once again this weekend, at  national Republican youth gala, demonstrated that she has not an ounce of decorum about her. Just don’t ask her about what she saw for sale at Target.

Today was a blah day for me, not that I regret it. I slept late, worked all morning and part of the afternoon, had leftovers for supper (who can quarrel with steak and a twice-baked potato filled with cream cheese?), worked some more in the evening, wrapped some packages. I’ll read a bit and go to bed. But above you see where my mind goes when I have nothing else to offer for the day. If I miss a few days of blogging in the upcoming days, please forgive me. I don’t want to take your time with, “And then I did this, and then I did that.”

Thanks to all who have expressed concern about my cold. I know I whine like a baby but I’m not often sick, and so I take it seriously when I am. Maybe that’s another blog topic. Meantime, it is getting better, and I feel okay—not sure however that my cough would be acceptable in a restaurant or a party, so social plans are on hold.

Night all. I’m going to quit babbling.