It’s like November 9, 2016, isn’t it. Ground Hog day, all over again. I think tomorrow I’ll cash in my forever postcards and a small stack of uncashed checks accumulating in the junk corner and go back to the task of dialing the gop. And make another donation to Senator Brown.
Laura absolutely cringes when I launch into my best Janis Joplin: “Oh lord, won’t you buy me a color TV; dialing for gop-ers is waiting for me.” I live in a little blue pocket of Ohio, and have two blue members of Congress, though Josh Mandel seems to be mounting a strong challenge to Sherrod Brown. Portman, my other senator, needs to hear the president must be rebuked for bullying Ms. Cruz.
“I would like Senator Portman to make a public statement condemning the president’s words and expressing support for our fellow citizens in Puerto Rico.” I’ve learned from a friend of mine, it’s good to have them write it down, as often a necessary, until they can read it back. It could be a pleasant change from all the gun legislation calls they may be receiving.
Ann called me today, and made a reference to retiring. I reminded her, a trifle bitterly, I did not retire from my last job. Oh, she meant weaving, my last full time job. She just doesn’t understand how we “old ladies” cannot become accustomed to having nothing to do all day. She may be down in two weeks, to discuss this.
My only job tomorrow is to take Laura to a Crewmembers Venturing meeting. Venturing is a BSA off shoot for boys and girls. We missed the first meeting due to the car brouhaha, and the driv-ee is anxious not to miss sign up for Cedar Point Halloween. Laura has not accepted the driving anywhere since I got back the car. It will be dusk, driving to Garfield Heights tomorrow, but not six p.m. Wednesday, to band practice.
Quite the agenda, eh?
The Methodist chicken, refurbished for election day. Remember to vote in your own precinct, in November.