"Maybe, after a year of isolation and political fear-mongering, the people in our little slice of America just wanted to get out of the house and connect with other people." Yes. I have only seen six people since the election. We could not speak, but we clung to each other like lifelines.
I have a politic allergy, and the angry back and forth is a trigger for me. I lived too long where the game is a blood sport and this election season edged in that direction. Now we can get back into the real community sports, such as complaining about the weather. We survived another election, as we have for almost 250 years. I hope we can keep it together long enough to celebrate another 250 years of elections.
Don't forget the butter. Dry toast grates like this election upon the throat.
I spent the day knitting and it calmed me down considerably. The project was unwearable, which was yet another disappointment, but I unraveled it and will try something else. Doing it, though, was meditative and helped a great deal. Maybe there's something to this making things with a ball of string and a pair of sharp sticks.
"Maybe, after a year of isolation and political fear-mongering, the people in our little slice of America just wanted to get out of the house and connect with other people." Yes. I have only seen six people since the election. We could not speak, but we clung to each other like lifelines.
It WAS quite a shock. The particular variety of news media I read didn't see it coming. You were lucky to have six friends to embrace.
I have a politic allergy, and the angry back and forth is a trigger for me. I lived too long where the game is a blood sport and this election season edged in that direction. Now we can get back into the real community sports, such as complaining about the weather. We survived another election, as we have for almost 250 years. I hope we can keep it together long enough to celebrate another 250 years of elections.
You can’t go wrong with a little Shakespeare, a little Bach, and some toast in the morning.
Don't forget the butter. Dry toast grates like this election upon the throat.
I spent the day knitting and it calmed me down considerably. The project was unwearable, which was yet another disappointment, but I unraveled it and will try something else. Doing it, though, was meditative and helped a great deal. Maybe there's something to this making things with a ball of string and a pair of sharp sticks.
Ah, Switter, the sun rose again this morning as it has risen for millions of years. We prevail. In the words of Shakespeare
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.