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.
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