Being without a job has some interest. I have more time to read and think through the news, though we all know I’m not so good at remembering and using it any more. Remember how excited we all were in January; we would shout Hell No and show the entire gang of fools how to function. Now it’s like being stuck in a sea of molasses. The president of the greatest nation on earth is shouting at the other side, “Fight tonight?”
Back home he taunts McConnell about unpassed legislation and pins the opioid epidemic on his predecessor. It’s a quagmire down there. The rating numbers tell him to go home and he brags on his prowess. “Fight tonight?” There simply will be overwhelming international cleanup, led by a military that knows its job. I can’t follow the president’s reasoning, so I don’t.
Fortunately for me, further down, there’s other news. Not good, but I can follow the gist of it. Taylor Swift really had her butt grabbed. Good for her for standing up. I expect she will win. The eclipse approaches, and we’re prepared.
In other events, the state of the climate news has been released. My childhood Northeastern Ohio climate no longer exists. All the seasons begin later. That’s not too awful. Three fourths of the years are milder. And wetter. At the old house last weekend, Kay’s brother from Texas stretched long on the sofa and announced he would exchange Ohio’s beautiful weather for Texas in a Dallas minute.
And I sympathized with him on returning to Hades and leaving Paradise behind. I didn’t set him straight, but I did remind him to vote every November. The D’s have a lot of work ahead, down there in Texas. And in forty nine other states.
Back at home, Laura has finally embraced my edict, there will be a vegetable with every meal. Given her natural inclination, every meal would be some variation of mac and cheese. In all fairness, she has produced lovely meals all summer, heavy on the vegetables. Last night we had chicken and asparagus stir fry, accompanied by mashed potatoes.
Yes, that’s a pat of butter in the middle. A little excessive, but good. Years ago I told my doctor, “I eat butter. Deal with it.”