December 4, 2019
Rain. Full stop.
REALLY gray, REALLY rain, really great! While the mood needs an attitude adjustment what with the recent time change (will they ever DO anything about this travesty?), the Winter Solstice upon us soon, and winter blues a general human condition, life is good.
I am tackling the remains of the turkey and making gallons of stock and soup to freeze and feed us in the coming months while the rain rattles on the pool surface like little grey pearls, each sending their eddy out to mix and mingle with their fellow falling friends. Beauty in nature’s simplicity. An empty calendar, a fire, a bunch of books, a cat or two and a blanket. Soup’s on!
In the background Congress is again nattering on with the impeachment of the president. It sticks in my throat to call that man president. The bloviating bastards on the R side are spewing fume that is little more than words…..actually, they are lies. Lies of the first magnitude. Lies that threaten us all and shake our fundamental meaning as Americans.
I do still have free will, agency, for the moment at least. I turn off the TV, turn on Spa XM and the world is suddenly right once more; at least “righter”, more serene. I have the ability and the will to wash the stench of Washington away for a bit but having been born in D.C. I fear I am ever-destined to remain umbilically attached to the drama there in some filamental, humanistically responsible manner.
I have the Washington Post. Well, I have my on-line version of the post. I learned to read from the Post as a child; the font of the header still makes me tear up. The Post got me through Watergate, Nixon, Vietnam; it even got me through the Bush years which was no small feat. I am trusting that, in the end, it will drag me, kicking and screaming and pulling out what’s left of my hair, into a new dawn where sanity might at least be on the horizon instead of buried alive in the crypts of the Capital with all the real heroes of our history.
Today, and every day, I am grateful for the Washington Post.