Tuesday, seize it!

First, the blue paragraphs, to be passed over if you do not want to hear another word about America's election.

Have I stopped thinking about/talking about it? Of course not. But I have moved to thinking more about a long trajectory of events, of the recurrence of seemingly weird election results. It goes something like that: capitalism (or, to use a less loaded term -- a market economy) has to produce inequality. No, I'm not saying that other systems are necessarily preferable, and yes it's obvious that there will be gradations, but just stay with me on this basic point: there will be inequality under a free market economy. It's a given.

If that's the case, in democratic elections the governing party can always be trumped (pardon the expression, it's not altogether intentional) by the one sidelined in the previous election, if that sidelined party usurps the argument of inequality and makes it their own, laying blame on the governing leadership for all that's not yours to have.  Nothing is required except that they convince those with fewer resources that their situation is dire. Not hard considering that there are plenty who are doing better than you or me.

But the conclusion seems to be that capitalism will (more often than not) unseat even the most competent leadership (I'm not passing judgment on our president here) in favor of a replacement. And so we have to cycle through like this, knocking down even the best systems/programs/structures, because you'll always find those who will be convinced that nothing good will come of staying the course. Because they're suffering (relatively or for real), while others are not.

The demand for an overhaul, for an about face -- it wont be the last one. There will always be another so long as there is inequality. Which, as I said, is a given. I suppose for the Democrats, the consolation is that two can play the game and the pendulum will swing once again. Eventually. Unless we all implode from exacerbated inequalities in the meantime (and from poor governance because of course there's that to worry about), because frankly, our wealth disparities are ridiculous, even though I myself can't see any value in shooting yourself in the foot and wrecking programs that help you, but maybe that's just me. You have to admire the optimism behind a desire to wreck everything just to see what happens next.

Here's a fun fact, related to wealth inequality, but I promise you, having nothing to do with the election: when I was visiting my Urgent Care doc this weekend, as I noted here, we talked about travel. Venice, yes that. But also US travel. I mentioned my theoretical love for National Parks (theoretical because I dont like the fact that they are over-loved and thus extremely crowded in places, and wild and difficult to access in other places -- those where Ed would like to hike and pitch a tent). I told him how I had once, as a little girl, looked up and saw the Grand Tetons and how I was instantly smitten. He laughed at that and said -- do you know that Wyoming (home of the Grand Tetons) is now a favorite destination for the rich and famous? That they have plunked down mansions and ranches there worth millions?

I almost didn't believe him. Wyoming, the Tetons -- aren't these places wild and beautiful? I googled a simple thing: what famous people have homes in Jackson? (Jackson is at the foot of the Tetons, so I would guess that's where everyone likes to go.) And lo! I get this: Sandra Bullock, Kanye West and Kim Kardashian, Harrison Ford. Bill Gates. Matthew McConaughey, Natalie Portman. Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Uma Thurman, Bratt Pitt. The list goes on.

Oh. My. Word.

I had no idea. It's the usual: expansive land, away from crowds, low taxes or no taxes. This morning, still under the quilt, with Ed there, I say to him -- do you know that Wyoming is the place to live if you're super rich and famous? He responds -- there are a lot of rich and famous people in this country. They probably live all over. Let's see which of the rich and famous live in Wisconsin. We google it. The list includes no one that either of us has ever heard of.

Outside? Wet from all that rain. Not too cold -- which tells me I should seize the day and do outdoor work because it is about to become really cold and it will stay cold going forward, for several weeks. Maybe the whole winter.

Does that look dreary? Let me throw in some breakfast flowers to brighten your day.

And something that will make you smile: chickens slurping leftover spaghetti!

Ed "joins" me for breakfast, but much later. We talk about the weather because we have a hard time scheduling outdoor work when the forecasts do not give us anything good to work with. Wet and not too cold today, but cold and not too wet tomorrow. And the next day. Oh, and add gusty winds and freezing temperatures that will kill the rest of the annuals and grasses outside next week. You think it's bare out there now? At least we still have spots of color. And even the occasional bloom.

(in the meadow)

It will end in a couple of days. I have my winter jacket on the ready.

By noon, we very much have the feeling that it's now or never. Ed digs out the one big and beautiful artichoke plant (he thinks he can overwinter it in the basement -- ever the gardening optimist!). I get on the tractor-mower to go over the places where leaves have covered the grasses. Mowing in November shreds and mulches everything. Honestly, it's my least favorite project -- the tractor-mower smells, bounces incessantly, and makes noise. But it has to be done and yeah, by kid pick up time I am finished!

 

The kids are with me this afternoon. Nothing new there. Well, one is more grumpy than the other. I'm not sure why. It could well be that when one is having an especially good week, the other one feels especially vulnerable. (Sort of like in the general population, don't you think?)

Still, they play/read/eat nicely at the farmhouse. The car ride is a bit testy though and I am tempted to insist on a period of classical music listening, except that they both seem to need to talk through their issues in life, and so in the end I let them go at it.

 

Home. I need to make some soup tonight. It's that kind of a day. Veggie soup, with cannelloni beans, sprinkled with grated parmesan. Mmmmm....

Monday cozy

Not a day for outdoor work/walk/play. Cold, wet. You know the kind? Where it feels colder than the freezing temps of a deep winter, because it's just so bone-chilling, as only damp days can be? Exactly. It's what's out there today. Foggy too. At least I dont have to go anywhere...

But what's this? A flower? This late in the season? You gotta love that...

I have breakfast with my friend Bee. Well, she's in Warsaw, so way past the breakfast hour for her. But we Zoom while I crunch on my granola.

Technology at its finest. Everyday life made better by our ability to connect. Write a few words -- click, send. Turn on your screen, invite for a Zoom chat and you're almost in the next room. I'm old enough to remember high phone bills for any call made outside your immediate neighborhood! I do not take it for granted. It's fabulous to have this ability to keep your far away friends close to your heart. 

And then it rained.

And rained.

And rained.

Isn't this a fine day for holiday shopping? Of the type where you do not have to leave your house? 

I pick up the one girl who does not mind rain. I honestly think it's because she is driven to and picked up from school. No one ever tells her -- would you run over to the store and get me a carton of milk? She has not yet had a summer job and when she does, I doubt that it will require working in the rain.  Kids these days!! And yet... Maybe she just likes being wet?

(She talks me into Culver's drive up. The flavor is chocolate Reeses! My favorite! True, Reeses Peanut Butter cups are your favorite candy bar.... Gaga, it's not a candy bar. It's not a rectangle. So Milkey Way is a candy bar but Reeses aren't? Milkey Ways aren't either. They have stuff inside. Never argue with an almost ten year old. They don't give up. Ever.)

It's Monday and so it's ballet for her and grocery shopping for me. All in the relentless November rain.

Until it rains no more. I pull up in our driveway. It's dark of course. I carry in the bags full of foods and I think -- does everyone love unpacking foods and filling the fridge, or is it just me? I'm feeling grateful. For the foods. For the dry night. For Zoom. For Ed patiently waiting inside.

with love...

Sunday thoughts

Breakfast conversation with Ed goes something like this: I'm wondering -- how do you govern, how do you lead in a country (indeed, in a world) where no matter what you do, or what the other candidate would have done, there will always be inequality, there will always be not only shades of truth floating around, but downright falsehoods coming in a steady stream from one side, and people, large swaths of people believing those false claims, and there will forever be someone doing better in life than you, and, too, suspicion and distrust of newcomers, and a belief that you are owed a better life than the one you have now. How do you deal with all that? (A question right up there with "how do you end a war so that neither side appears to have lost?")

This was our discussion over bakery goods from Madison Sourdough via Tati's.

 

And it is once again a late breakfast, because after taking care of the animals..

I went over to the pharmacy to wreck my gut yet again with antibiotics, much needed for my foot, but still, not appreciated by my good-bacteria hungry gut!

On the way back I picked up the pastries. Healthy eating? Saved for another day!

Ed bikes today. He doesn't want to, the weather is so dreary and cold, but he skipped last Wednesday and frankly, in November this is as good as it gets. Me, I fix dinner for the young family. And I put on my music playlist -- the one I call "Travel" because that is just about the only time I listen to playlists. And I dance. The cat named after my rhythmic movements (Dance!) freaks out and runs away. (She hates rapid motion.) The played list brings up I'm Yours (by Jason Mraz) and I think how much I've come to associate rather randomly heard songs with my best moments with Ed. I will forever hear La ou je t'emmenerai and think of driving with him from our rented rooms in Sorede to Franqui Beach. And I'm Yours? It was playing just once when he and I biked over to McFarland to get coffee. I must have been so happy at that moment because when I hear it now, I smile at the image of that coffee shop and us in it, in a flood of sunshine coming in through the large windows.  Ed is completely a-musical, which is a good thing I suppose. Music doesn't move him one way or another. I live in a climate of calm. It rubs off!

[Still, I have musical memories. You do as well maybe? Not all are captured on my playlist, but some are! I hear Home by Vanessa Carlton and I remember listening to it the first time Ed went away sailing. I had a miserable ten days -- not because he was sailing, but because everything went wrong soon after he left, and then we argued big time over the phone -- him in Puerto Rico, me at the farmhouse. The only big argument of our life together. And yet, the song makes me remember how much I loved him then. And Mystery of Love -- one time I was hearing it at a daughter's house. My son-in-law said, almost under his breath -- that is the most perfect song. Since then, when I hear it (it's on my playlist), I think how much he must love my girl and it makes me smile. And Hey There Delilah -- listened to a lot when my youngest was in law school. On the way back from visits out east with her. And Maledetta Primavera --  a song that my older girl loved singing, especially in the car, on family road trips. Oh, that one in Massachussetts, to Cape Cod. And so many more! Do you see why I love tuning into my list when traveling? Memories come flying. It brings everyone close to me. It's like snuggling with an overstuffed teddybear.]

Okay, dinner.

Here they come. All well and happy.

At the kitchen table now. Do you remember when the sun was streaming onto the porch as we ate our Sunday meal? Ha! Not anymore!

I had kept my playlist going this evening. Almost by accident. And as the meal ended, and the songs played on, two of the little guys and their mom were moved to dance, and suddenly the kitchen was a place of music and movement and joy.

Such a good way to end the week!

Now comes a half week of calm, before everything gets tossed into the air again! It's going to be a very busy set of days weeks months! Are you yearning for posts on how to be bored without really trying? Come back in February!

With love...

November Saturday

Each day puts before us something good, something special. Something sweet and charming. Something to relish, appreciate, feel humbled by. However, some days bring more of all that than other days. Yesterday's sunshine pulled us out of our cocoon and had us zipping along the bike trail with enthusiasm. The lake, the trees, the wildlife, the fading sun, and eventually the full moon --- they were all thrilling! It didn't matter that the coffee shop had run out of foods to sell, and that I had to settle for a yogurt to accompany my afternoon coffee. It didn't matter that I had had a blinding eye doc visit earlier. The day felt full and fabulous.

Then came this day. Saturday. Gray and cold and windy. I hadn't slept well. Why? Because I have a foot infection and it was bugging me no end. In the middle of the night I decided it needed a good soak. It helped, but believe me, once you sit up soaking a foot at 3 a.m., you're not going to quickly fall asleep after. Ed thought I should go see a doc. If Ed thought that, then it must be really bad, no? So I told myself -- first thing in the morning. I'll pay Urgent Care a visit.

And of course, it just had to be a very cold and dreary morning.

We eat breakfast. Ed asks why I wasn't at Urgent Care. Because when I called, they said it's close to a two hour wait. And that maybe in the afternoon things may loosen up.

 

 

We stay indoors the whole morning, but by lunchtime, we are both getting restless. Can you walk? -- he asks me. Sure, if I can find a pair of shoes that wont kill me.

We set out, me in my gardening clogs. 

It's not a long drive -- maybe 7 minutes to our local county park. We pass a field of sandhill cranes. Here, you can see some of these graceful creatures at the side of the road: 

Ed and I had just heard on the news that hunters are angling to get permission to hunt them again. The cranes had been scarce, but their population has swelled recently so that they aren't endangered any more. At the moment. The argument put forth is the usual one -- they destroy some portion of a farmer's crop.

This seems absurd to us: we see the cranes in harvested cornfields, where they peck away at fallen kernels. No way could these birds swoop down on a field of growing corn and chomp away at full ears! And so what damage could they possibly be doing? And if you hunt one down, what are you going to do with it? Pluck the feathers and eat a roasted crane for dinner? 

I hope none of this comes to pass. 

We walk our favorite trail. It is so windy that I almost suggest we turn back, but we do not turn back. Once out of that comfy house, we are not going to let go of this walk!

And it revives us. By the end, we dont care about the wind, about the cold. The air smells lovely -- full of those scents of spent fallen leaves, of late autumn. It's so satisfying to be there among the tall grasses, walking, climbing, feeling energized, feeling healthy!

But there is that infection, so I drop Ed off at the farmhouse and head out to Urgent Care, where of course the line of sick people has only grown. ("Dont worry," the receptionist tells me, "we separate the ones who are coughing and put them in a different waiting area!" Me and my foot are grateful.)

Two and a half hours later, just before the clinic closes, my doc comes in to see me. He takes one look, writes out a prescription  for an antibiotic and tells me to soak the foot as much as possible. Meaning, my 3 a.m. strategy was a good one. All that takes all of two minutes, so we chat a while after -- he's had such a long day! I tell him I'd like to be able to walk again by next weekend because I have a very special walk in mind. I explain it in great detail.

Hmmm, you're doing it in this weather? He has doubts. But then he sits back and closes his eyes, thinking back to another time: 30 years ago, he and his then new wife went for a honeymoon trip to Venice. It was November. It was cold. Wet. It was the most beautiful trip they'd ever taken. He tells me how someone handed him tickets to some small concert in some unfamiliar old church, to which they went by boat... He smiles. I'll have to take my wife to Venice in November again! It was an incredible time to be there. Thanks for the trip down memory lane...

As I left, I thought about this virtue that one can slap right onto November: the month is so awful, that no one wants to do anything nice during it. Crowded spaces empty out. You are suddenly immersed in scenery that is stripped of outsiders. It's just you in that forest, or on that Venetian canal. Me, I'm not going to Venice next weekend, but still, I'm going for a walk and I expect the weather will be not great and there will be few people and therein lies the beauty of it all: you have it to yourself -- everything out there, it's yours, while the world huddles inside, waiting for this awful weather to move on.

Something to look forward to. Only in November.

a different kind of Friday

Well, the young family is down with a bug. All of them except for Sparrow, who notably had this same bug earlier in the week. So far, Ed and I are unaffected. Cross your fingers!

It does mean that my plan for the day changes. 

Not the get-up-early-and-feed-the-animals-in-the-gloom-of-a-November-morning part. That stays the same. There is color though: the red crab apples still dazzle.

But after my morning walk -- you could say that the day oscillates and moves under the power of the full moon. It is unpredictable. It has a bit of magic too.

First, the mundane. An eye doc appointment. Yawn...  So long as I am in the area of my favorite grocery store, I restock afterwards. With sunglasses on because the glare from the appointment stays with me way too long.

All this means we eat breakfast... after 11. That is significantly late for me. But I do get Ed at the table, and a hungry Ed at that. Both of us devour our sweet rolls.

The skies clear. Yes, it's chilly, but I do not have kids here today and so when Ed proposes we go for a bike ride, I throw him a thumbs up sign. When he suggests that we bike over to the town of McFarland and get a late lunch/snack at the cafe there, I go for double thumbs up. It's a splendid idea!

We set out in mid afternoon, but of course, the mid-afternoon in mid-November leaves us with few hours of daylight. No matter. It's a forty minute ride to the cafe.

We linger there. A long time. So much to review! His machine design work, the elections, travel. They're all related! We want to step back from politics, but we cannot. The mind keeps spinning back to November 5th, when most of Americans voted for what we have now. And so small business owners, instead of discussing product development and technological upgrades, are scrambling to figure out how to remain afloat. In planning my next travel, I tell him I'm rethinking the way I go about my decisions on where and when. If I avoided countries with extreme political regimes in place (either in past decades, or now), I'm thinking -- wait a minute. That's who we are now!

Eventually we bike back. The long way.

The sun is almost down for the day. Deer in the harvested cornfields, ducks settling on the still waters of a pond. Lovely stuff. And eventually, we spot the moon.

It's a super moon: full at its closest orbit to the Earth. The beaver moon. A beautiful sight. Makes you feel hopeful somehow. Reassurred. The next super moon comes in October 2025. Between now and then, there will be laughter, there will be love.

even grayer, wetter, colder

Of course I'm glad it's drizzling. Yes, we need that rain to counter the drought that hit us in the late summer and fall. But just because something is good for us, doesn't mean we necessarily have to like it. I consider this to be yukky November weather. Need I say more? (And equally dismal is the forecast for this winter in Wisconsin: cold, but with less than the average amounts of snow. It seems that we are slated to have yet another winter with little of the white stuff. Groan...)

Breakfast, however, is always lovely. Oatmeal, of course. Cold and wet outside, oatmeal inside.

Ed asked me if I would go with him to the Expo Center this morning. It's a day for Robots and Brats. Tormach -- the company he has been involved with since its inception -- is putting on some kind of machine demo (among many other robotics demos). He wants to go, and for some reason he seems to want me to tag along as well. He tells me I may get some good photos. This is of course nonsense. To take a good photo, you have to know your subject matter. I have been to machining shows with him before and have always come back disgusted with my pics. Nonetheless, he rarely ventures out and rarely, therefore, asks me to go places, and so I agree. 

And predictably, I come back with lousy photos. Here's one from his team, talking up the robotics arm and the milling machine. And though you see a woman listening in, I bet she was not there to get robotics info. Maybe a friend of a friend? The room was pretty much 50 guys to every female. His team pushed back when I talked about the absence of women in the field, but honestly, the proof is in the pudding.

They're serving brats to the attendees and my non-red meat eating guy stands in line with the rest to get his brat. Handed out with onions and chips and Mello-Yellow or Coke. Tell me what in there sounds tasty let alone healthy to you? The chips maybe. I take a bag home with me.

 

Home briefly and then I am off to pick up the kids.

Gaga, it's ice cream day!

Ice cream day?? You have got to be kidding...

But they're correct: Snowdrop had her choice treat one day this week (french fries), Sparrow gets his choice of treat for the week. 

 

 

 

 

 

And the little guy always picks ice cream even on this grayer, wetter, colder day. And yes, he is still wearing a tie and she is still refusing to wear socks. Kids!!

 (At home, Snowdrop claims Ed needs a back pounding, aka a back massage...)

So ends another November day. With leftover fish chopped up over a salad for supper -- that's how much cooking enthusiasm I had in me today. (But it was good, so there's that!) 

It really is hard to believe that the election was just last week, isn't it? I no longer read the analyses because they seem more fueled by emotion and bias than by any observable reality. One person says this, the next affirms or disagrees and so it continues. I did look at ratings outside our borders and I noted that more than 75% of French people disagreed with the choices made by Americans this November.  I have to think Poland's numbers would skew even higher. Leaders who claim friendship with that guy to the east aren't typically admired in countries to the west.

Ed and I watch a movie -- a not especially good one. We've been on a movie losing streak lately. But the chocolate squares that I bring out for it -- winners all! 

There is a bright side out there! Always. Well, nearly always.

With love...

classic November

It's cold enough outside that if you are not yet used to winter cold, you shiver with every step. It's gray. The leaves -- except for the big maples -- are mostly gone. The flower fields should be trimmed and shaped for winter but I'm not in the mood for it. The county park paths that we normally love so much do not beckon. Yes, it's the kind of day where you can enjoy the quiet and warmth of a cozy space, except that you know you should not sit all day -- you should be moving. But tell me who in November feels like prancing around outside? Okay, you can always find a sucker out there, but really, she or he will be the exception.

A walk to the barn and back...

Then breakfast -- now that is in fact cozy. And warm. And lovely.

But then I sit down and start reading. Still pulling at post-election threads. Still wondering -- why aren't most voters concerned about, talking about, thinking about climate change? Of course, I understand the answer, but it makes me uneasy: if we can't ever act collectively to protect ourselves from an even slightly distant danger, if it's all about today's price of gas at the pumps, then what hope is there for any of us?

I go out for a walk. A brisk walk. It's not especially enjoyable, but it does give me a surge of good feelings afterwards (of the type where I am thrilled that I'm done with movement for the day and I can now stay home).

Both kids are at the farmhouse today. Everyone's healthy and happy. 

Sparrow has taken to loving ties, Snowdrop still comes with her summer shoes -- no socks, just shoes. You could say they have moved her straight from the August swimming pool to the crispy days of November.

I ask her -- aren't your toes cold? Gaga, these shoes are hot! The girl has an internal thermometer that I completely do not understand.

 

(he couldn't decide whether to go with this classic tie or whether to pull out his bow tie... he loves them both so much!)

 

 

It's no longer good biking weather and so Ed stays home tonight. Good. I bake fish, asparagus. We watch a show about lions. Perfect for a cold November night. Tomorrow? Likely more of the same. But you do get used to the cold. In a few weeks, this weather -- hovering just above the freezing point -- will seem downright balmy.  

Ah, November! You do test one's love for the four seasons! But you haven't broken me! I'm still looking forward to winter. 

too fast

You'd think that speed (of the "moving fast" kind) is something only the young crave. That when you get older, you join the ranks of the turtle squad: slow and steady, crawling to your next activity, and the one after, with great pauses in between. 

So why did I get a speeding ticket on my way to the bakery this morning?

(Can I blame the elections? Maybe!)

Would you believe it -- it's only my second one ever, and the first was decades ago, in a speed trap where I dared go a few miles over the posted 25 mph.  Yes, it's true -- I am a cautious driver. I keep my eyes open for children, bicyclists, deer, cats, squirrels, and police cars. I rarely go over the speed limit in urban areas -- that kind of driving carries with it too many risks. But, I have a different metric for the rural roads which surround us. When there's no way in hell anything can come at me, when the signs says 40 mph and the stretch of road is long and unobstructed, when there's a hill going down, down down...well, I tend to speed. Not when kids are in the car (for one thing, the oldest always questions any reading on the speedometer that is over the speed limit and what kind of an example do you want to set for the future drivers of America?). But when I am alone, when there seems to be no one, not even a police car, well, that speedometer can crawl up. And up.

This is how early today, after feeding the animals...

I set out for the bakery -- it was just on the hour and I was glued to the news on the radio (you see! it's the elections!), thus not too attentive to the possibility of hidden police cars -- and I pushed the foot too far down on the gas pedal. I realized that I was way over what was permissible and braked, but it was too late. He had seen me and he pulled me over.

I wish there was a good moral to the story (besides the obvious one: don't speed), but the thing is, speeding to appointments, meetups, events (today I had a doc's visit and so I wanted to be quick about going for breakfast treats first) -- this is so ingrained in our culture that honestly, if I only drove the speed limit everywhere, people would give me the finger and honk. Or, worse - throw me pitying glances, the kind that are telling me that they think I am ancient. Go back to your wheelchair, lady! -- that kind of thing.

The cost of today's croissant: $4.50 + $98.80 = $103.30.

While the cop was checking my documents, I get a phone call on my cell. There's a company board meeting that Ed is supposed to attend (on Zoom) and they can't get him to pick up the phone. Assuming that he was still snoozing under the quilt and that I was there as well, I'm asked - could you nudge him please?

I've just been stopped for speeding! I cannot! Damn it.

That is my morning. 

On the upside, and there is always an upside til the day you or your loved ones are stardust, the doc said my neck (which many have observed can look weirdly lumpy) is fine and the sun came out and I sat down (alone, because guess what, Ed had a board meeting) to a lovely meal of a fresh croissant with milky coffee. And fruit.

The morning went by quickly. I dont know why. One minute it was 10, the next it was time for me to pick up my granddaughter at school. I say granddaughter because her brother is out sick today. So, just Snowdrop.

The girl is always concerned about time passing too quickly. If I take a few minutes to attend to something, or if she wastes time goofing around on Ed's computer, she'll ask anxiously -- will I still have time to play? Will we still have time to read? For her, her after school hours always go by too fast.

Time. You know and I know that it drags when you're hating what's happening to you, or when you're bored, and speeds when you're enjoying yourself. I suppose when you're older, you've had too many stretches of wasted boring stupid unpleasant time and you tend to want to get to your moments of quiet, of bliss, of contemplation, of pleasurable comaraderie, of tasty treats quickly, so that you can stretch these out into a span of infinite time (well, as close to infinite as you can manage). You speed in a car so that you can slow down elsewhere. Though not me, not anymore. I'm putting the brakes on. That delightful and delicious croissant this morning proved to be just a little too expensive for my taste.

with love...

Monday adventures

Ed's quotable (and dated) saying for today? 

Gorgeous, there's nothing so bad that you can't run away from it. (It came up as we discussed, still upstairs, under a quilt, the stresses that hit working parents these days.)

Sweet one, I never heard you say it! 

Maybe because you never needed to hear it? (He implies nothing terrible befell me.)

No, maybe it's because I have, all my adult life, had an easy time abandoning bad situations. Or at least perceived by me to be untenable. College majors, countries, parental dysfunction, relationship, homes -- you name it, I've been known to pack up and move away from the epicenters of trouble. But I never considered this to be virtuous. It's more of a self-preservation mechanism that I was born and bread to have firmly in place. Though maybe it is virtuous, because self-preservation, we have learned over time, is virtuous. You put on your own oxygen mask before assisting others. 

 

Ed and I do not have breakfast together. Indeed, after our chat, I go out and feed the animals (what's this -- chickens on the loose, so early? Did we forget to lock them up for the night? Oops! I blame daylight savings time changes!)...

 

 

 

And I go out to meet my good friend who happens to be in town.

And in the few hours we spend together, we have so much subject matter to cover that we never even get to a discussion of the elections. And that's just fine. 

I do have to cut off our morning a bit, because Ed has scheduled a meetup with a guy who is selling his old truck. The guy lives south of here and we are to drive down to the small town of Evansville, where Ed will inspect the newer old pickup. Believe it or not, he's doing it for me. His current truck is about thirty years old and not only is it rustier than any machine out on the roads, it also smells of mice and dead animals. I refuse to ride in it. Ed needs a truck just a handful of times in the year and he cares not at all about any of these things, but recently the need for mechanical updates have steered him to Craigslists and FaceBook Marketplace -- websites where newer old trucks are put up for sale. This particular pickup is twenty years old and it's a beautiful sparkling red color, with only slight rust on the door's edge.

The town of Evansville has a new coffee shop ("Allen Creek"). It's lovely and it has all that I need for a pause: milky coffee, a scone, sunshine. Ed's out inspecting the truck.

Upshot? My own coffee shop pause was delightful but the truck is a no go. Engine makes some noises that made Ed frown. Damn. I loved that color! Shouldn't people pick their vehicles based on appearance? 

 

The kids are home from school today -- a teacher workday perhaps, I cant keep track -- but we stay with the regular schedule. Monday is Snowdrop day and she comes to the farmhouse for the afternoon.

From there -- to ballet, and in the evening hour, as she dances, I meet up with her mom for a catch-up moment. I know we had one yesterday, but we're approaching the days that require a lot of coordination and planning. We coordinate and plan.

Evening quiet. I am still reading analyses and opinion pieces on the election. I notice that many in the mainstream media have shut off the readers comments. Perhaps they are tired of hearing the same disparaging reactions. Perhaps they're simply tired. Ed will still listen to me talk about it all, but just barely. There's too much to worry us if we allow ourselves to worry. Businesses with which he is intimately involved may have to shut down. And that's just the tip of a very big ice berg. Maybe we're in something more akin to an Ice Age? 

He'll say again and again, falling back on cliches that he loves -- you cannot predict the future. No use in trying. Let's just continue. Sort of a "carry on" message. So, we carry on.

with love...

Sunday rain

It's the kind of rain you love, so long as it doesn't last for too many hours, or (gulp) days. Steady, with a definite sound as it hits the skylight, the house panels to the west. We had a drought, now we have rain. That just has to feel good.

I don't get up immediately. After waking, Ed and I remain under a quilt, for an hour, maybe longer, talking about taxes. I had a question about a tax strategy (I should add that many older people have questions right now, as we may be experiencing lurches and swings in the economy) and for better for worse, Ed is your well-read source that can either answer basic stuff or can direct you to the proper publication. Well, more than one publication. It was a simple question and suddenly, my inbox is filled with stuff I should be reading.

This was perhaps a nice distraction. I did not get around to reading pundits on the election until much later. It's not that I read the relevant tax publications (and there are just as many tax pundits out there as there are election pundits), but the two of us did spend a good bit of time moaning and groaning about the complexities of our tax system. Absurdities abound. If you can get yourself to laugh about it, I consider that time well spent.

Do chickens get annoyed? If so, I'm sure these girls were plenty miffed at me. I did not feed them until maybe 9:30. A two hour delay. How dare I!

Breakfast, healthy again. I'll say this for November (and I am always looking for good things to say about November, because there are so few...) -- on cold mornings, I am much happier with oatmeal than on lovely summer days. A porch breakfast begs for a croissant. A kitchen breakfast? Oatmeal's just fine.

Afterwards, I return to the elections. Kill me for it (and especially for writing about it here!), but they are still on my mind and I do find the discussions interesting. There are many who blame specific behaviors of one person, maybe the current president, maybe his VP, sometimes random others for the Democratic party's loss. There are some who blame the language of the Democratic platform of the past decade (see my words on this yesterday). There are even more who blame Fox News (that's a tempting one for sure!), or Elon and his recently cozy relationship to the Republican candidate. And of course, one can't help but wonder about the demographics. White male, black female -- there's so much to speculate on that issue alone. I usually spend the day with one handful of claims and mull them over, trying to see if anything really fits, or if it's just a writer posturing, perhaps to preserve a reputation, perhaps with an "I told you so" behind it.

Today, I actually liked one article more than the others. It's from the Economist -- a British publication that is both centrist and not especially committed to pushing an agenda that I can figure out. The digital editor Adam Roberts put this (see below) in my email inbox. Insofar as I can smile about something so serious as the election results, it made me smile. At our naïveté. At our susceptibility. At our feverish belief that some one person out there has most if not all the answers and will fix things for us. Here's a fragment of what Roberts wrote. (Skip it if you're avoiding post-election speculations. It's in red to make it easier for you to jump over.)

My hunch is that no incumbent candidate, of either sex, could have won this election: voters the world over are in a surly mood and mostly want to throw out the ruling bums. (...)

Why are voters everywhere so furious? We are living in an era of grouchiness. (...)

The answer, I think, lies in trends that are common to all democracies. I look at the lingering effects of covid lockdowns and of previously high government spending that must now be rolled back. Voters see they are paying high taxes but their public services, too often, are falling to bits. They suffer prices that have surged for years and remain high (whatever official inflation rates might say), especially when you factor in the cost of renting or buying property, or paying for education. Wages may have risen too, but every individual believes he or she earned their pay rise. That will never make up for prices being high.

Add to that the uneasy feeling among many voters (maybe small-town ones especially, and perhaps men and older voters more) that the world is moving too fast. Cultural change, such as having to face new ideas of sexual identity, or how to talk about race, or about climate change, is deeply unsettling for some. All of the above can then be summed up in a simple idea, such as that immigrants, especially illegal ones, are to blame for everything. And who is to blame for letting in those foreigners? Why, the government of course. 

So, welcome to the era of grouchiness. It, too, may pass. Let’s hope so.

Funny because it's true.  Catch that grumpy mood, give the people a target (it's the pool table! -- for fans of the Music Man) and we're off!

 

In the later afternoon, I turn to Sunday dinner. I hadn't done one for a while. I'm gone, they're gone, one sick, the other is unwell. Today -- everyone is here, everyone is well. 

(liking the cleaned up space)

("yes, but can I still eat cheese and crackers here?")

("where have you been hiding these awesome crackers?")

I have no illusion that the play room will retain its dignity and order for long. I suppose if you have a young child who longs for organization with everything in its place, you've got yourself a problem. Indifference to mess is a valuable trait when you're young. It's only when the consequences of that indifference begin to roll in (usually in school, as you forget where you put your homework, your pencil, your brain...) that you come to understand that efficiency and progress are greatly aided by good organization. You hope that your child will embrace it then. And that it's not too late. But today -- all remains organized, arranged, orderly.

Dinner, en famille...

They return home, I tidy the kitchen and sit down to a late night viewing of something fun. Please, something that will make us chuckle. Nothing comes to mind? Okay, maybe a movie where people kill each other for profit and personal gain? No, nothing there either? How about one about a little guy fighting a big corporation where the little guy wins? ("Flash of Genius") Yes? Great. With a square of chocolate and a heart full of hope for a saner week ahead.

(this, from today...)