Friday Funnies

 Following Andrew's example I offer you two:

And this is self-explanatory to any Irish person out there.

Heart Breaking

 

Our hearts can break in so many ways over the years, can't they? Heart breaking is an odd term. A heart can't break, unless it's a heart attack, not emotionally triggered. Though interestingly, the pain can be located near the heart or clench the stomach or go painfully silent with shock as in a brain freeze.

My freshly demented friend came up to my apartment the other night. Her phone wasn't working and she was in pieces.

It turns out it needed a pin number to fire it up. And she had tried many times with various numbers to do so until it shut her down for too many failed attempts. I was "the genius" who could sort it out for her.

I told her we would have to wait 2 hours to try again and I could make coffee and to please tell me the pin number so I could open it for her then. She looked at me, baffled. I wanted to burst into tears. Once upon a time, she was a marketing manager for a large firm, handling government contracts. Three years younger than I.

I said we can't open it without your pin. Please try and think of the four digit number.

Blank. She wanted to access her bank app and had brought all the gear with her, blank cheque, bank card, note from her bank giving her a temporary password to access the app which telegraphed she had had a similar issue with the bank app.

Use that, she instructed me. I said no, this had a long alpha numeric sequence and all we needed for the pin was four numeric digits to get into the phone itself. She read off this bank password again. I jogged her by telling her, her date of birth, her daughter's date of birth?

"I can't remember those!" she laughed.

Maybe tomorrow take the phone to the place where you bought it? I suggested, they could probably crack into it for you?

"I don't want them in my bank account" she huffed.

Slowly I explained to her the difference between accessing the phone itself and accessing the bank app. She smiled at me as if I were a half-wit shaking her head.

And I despaired. I am totally at a loss that I was never at with L my friend who also descended rapidly into dementia and has been in a care home for several years.

I honestly can't believe how rapidly S has descended. 

I phoned her the following day and she had absolutely no recollection of the hours she had spent with me the night before. I said, your phone is fixed? "What?"she said,"It's not broken."

It's frankly terrifying. And I'm lost as to how to help.

Edit: Added later

Tonight, she buzzed me on my intercom and arrived in my apartment with a brand new phone (!!). Her granddaughter had set up the new phone and wrote down the passwords but NONE worked. I think her phone provider has scammed her by selling her a new phone. And her granddaughter should know better and have tested the passwords before releasing her into the wild. Needless to mention I don't have her granddaughter's phone number and neither does S with her phone not working.

Stalemate and I'm exhausted. She stayed about an hour but she can't keep track of any conversation. Even a minute later. She wants to return the new phone fpor "not working". I'm hoping her family are realizing she is seriously cognitively impaired. 

Small Things and Twisty Backs

 As you know I've got a bad back (stenosis) my age and surgery are not a good match for any kind of "cure" which is a 50/50 proposition at best. It all started with a bad (very stupid) fall on thick ice. Right on the cocyx and skull and another ambulance trip as, bingo, concussion. Evidently I was hilarious in my nonsense spouting but no record exists, unfortunately.

Today I twisted my already unhappy back so that I am now walking around in a U-shape. I attended a meeting I couldn't miss today looking enfeebled (great word) which was interesting in the others' treatment of me - as if I was a half-wit. Which brings home what most disabled feel when they are ALWAYS treated like imbeciles, as if deafness, blindness or a wheelchair can make your IQ drop 100 points. Most disturbing. And humbling what we take for granted being upright.

I took a few photos around my apartment to make me feel a little better. The small things in life, I tell ya, are all that really matter.

First this was a bud yesterday:

And then today it was this:

And a surprise second blooming from this:

The joys these wee babies give me know no bounds.

What are your "small things?"

Slogging away

I'm finding it hard to lift my head at times. I work on my completed memoir from time to time, desperately unhappy with editing attempts.

Other stuff intrudes like daily life tasks and my energy is absent. I do what I can. I started to throw out one item a day - usually into my recycling charity pile unless it's gone past its lifespan completely and lies sobbing in a corner somewhere. I exaggerate. But you know. I have a hard time throwing out stuff and am drowning in old photos, old books, detritus of an old life that no one else will care about. I promised family I would get a negative reader, but WORK. I promised myself ten minutes a day shredding masses of old papers, but WORK. And honestly? Digitized stuff? Does anyone look at it if I do it?

Speaking of the memoir, it is about a time I thought I'd never share with anyone. Ever. But it's haunting me. I need to get it to unhaunt by putting it out there.

And as I say at my writing workshops - most of our stories die within us. Repeat after me: get it out there.

Teacher, listen to yourself. It's time to just sit for at least an hour a day and think about it and restructure sentences and the unfolding of it all. 

Just finished:

This is about the travelling people of island, rarely written about. A little too mythical for my liking. A big book with tiny print too.

Reading:

I'm enjoying every single page. What a delight.

Lie Down and Be Quiet

A glowering sky outside my window the other day which matched my mood.

I wonder if that's the philosophy of governments and health "care" as we age out and hopefully cascade into our graves or incinerators?

Don't get me wrong as I do have a medical team that is par excellence when so many don't. At last count, there were seven all told doing their very best to keep me upright.

But the peripherals are absolutely maddening. An essential drug was unfunded out of the blue eleven days ago by the lords of the health care system. We fought for the coverage nearly a year ago and won. Then it was yanked suddenly with no warning. My clinician was off on hols as was my doctor and the pharmacy was apologetic and said nothing could be done but I could pay for it out of pocket. Knowing how bureaucracy works, I declined as I knew it would be the nail in my coffin and my pocket as it would never get funded again. So I hung on with a few scattered pain relievers until the team got back. It was all sorted and for a year's coverage. How maddeningly unnecessary to put an old woman into such stress.

Secondly there was a $400 supplement allocated to seniors in the province, I applied in January and helped others with the complicated application which involved detailed descriptions of out of pocket medical expenses AND verification of actual addresses via copy of electricity bills. No on line apps permitted and a CHEQUE would be issued, no auto deposit, so copy of a cheque to be sent with the app. Can you believe this absolute nonsense in the year of Our Lord 2025?

So I mailed off a wad of these apps having scanned all the bits and pieces of paper that had to accompany them. This pittance of $400 was used up if I was being paid for services to others in this complicated process.

And here we are, July 2025 and a scattered few have received their cheques and the rest of us are left stewing, all old in various stages of decrepitude. Are the almighty "they" hoping we'll toss off this mortal coil before the cheques (maybe they're handwritten, whut?) are issued.

More work: I sent an email off to our member of parliament (I know him) with a request to find out what had happened in this sporadic issue of cheques to some and none to the majority of us?

Crickets.

All part of a senior's existence, fighting for the scraps, fighting for what's fair and just. 

And hoping there's a sliver of energy left over to suck a bit of joy out of the remains of the day.

Constant Beauty

 I think if one is born to an environment of natural beauty one can be immune to it.

I find this immunity prevalent amongst many of my Newfoundland people.

Yesterday I trotted out to pick up some groceries and asked my friend with dementia if she'd like to come along and she was thrilled. I can't abide shopping and pre-order my groceries on line and then have them all loaded into my car at the pickup.

I stopped outside my home and took this photo of the fog over the Atlantic in the distance and the blues just took my breath away. "Isn't it stunning?" I said to my friend as I snapped away. "I suppose," she answered, a born and bred Newfoundlander.

So this is for Marge, who is a faithful follower and loves fogs as much as I do.

We picked up the groceries and I asked her if she'd like to trot up to Middle Cove, the glorious beach near where we live and she agreed. I said I come up here a lot and she said she would come there a lot as a child and I said never since? And she said no. I was shocked. She took a long walk on the beach. I took some photos. There were many there, kids and dogs and some fishing off the shore.

We sat for a while and she became quite emotional, remembering the picnics and "boil-ups" on the beach as a child. It had never occurred to her to just visit and just be there for an afternoon.

So I talked of the healing effect of sitting by the ocean and all its different moods. And to reflect on how small we all are in the overall scheme of things.

And she agreed and said she had been so agitated about so many different things and her stress had been bad and now she could feel herself relaxing.

Her gratitude quite overwhelmed me, she went on and on about the afternoon and what a mighty gift I had given her.

And I was reminded of something I had learned a long time ago.

Measure wealth not by the stuff you own and hoard, but by the things in life that don't cost a penny.

Time Opening Wide

Our absolutely amazing new greenhouse.

I'm working on finalizing another anthology. It's taking an inordinate amount of time. But good work, just like good trouble, is very gratifying. 

I was fortunate on Sunday with a nearly 5 hour brunch with my daughter. My family are incredible talkers and I am so glad that she and grandgirl have inherited this trait. For example when my siblings were all here we often sat over dinner for 6 or 7 hours with occasional stretches and never ran out of conversation. We cover everything, history, politics, religion, health and circle back again. Our sibling Zooms every Sunday for the last 6 years have us tearing ourselves off after several hours.

I know it's unusual as when I mention this to others their mouths fall open. They're of the gulp and gallop school when it comes to meals. I've often been left baffled in others' homes when everybody gets up after quickly ingesting. 

The wee fledgings wake me up now at 3.30 a.m. There are many nests in the trees outside.

Then the dawn, sometimes drowning in colour even in the west out my window. Or a decent fog which shutters any other noises. I love fog. Always have.

The long summer days are so very good here in the northern hemisphere.

There's a list of us waiting for our spots in the greenhouse (above). 

I am so very grateful to be living in this gorgeous spot.

Holding Firm

 

I am goodly. I am avoiding all the podcasts, all the streaming, all the substacks and all the newspapers.

Politics can be a total addiction and I see that clearly now. I wasn't addressing some real issues in my life like another long term friend with dementia and the resulting void in my life that now exists. She was one of my first friends in Newfoundland and was instrumental in getting me into her building (there was a huge waiting list - still is).

I decided to go back into therapy after my doc expressed some concern (again!) that talking to someone might help me.

She got me in to see one lickety split (the following day) and I am thrilled that there was an immediate click with him. In the past I've had a few really poor ones but was canny enough to dispense with them. I was also fortunate to have excellent wise ones.

I realized when talking with him, that things had really shifted for me emotionally last November when I nearly died and my brother died two days later. I also realized that in Newfoundland I have one close friend (now in dementia) but the rest of the friendships were more transactional. And that I hadn't shared this massive loss and its impact on me with anyone. A few times I tried but in one case the friend walked away.

So my conclusion also was that I used politics to fill that massive emotional void. And I could feel myself slipping away.

So onward into a better emotional outcome for me. 

I feel lighter already.

A few pics

We had a wonderful Canada  Day celebration here where I live. The gardens were magnificent, the barbie was great and the games were mighty and funny. Plus we celebrated the installation a a gorgeous big, fat greenhouse, more on that soon. We have an abundance of truly great gardeners who live here, some who worked on municipal gardens in the past. I must count all the gardens soon, my estimate would be ten. And yes, the property is magnificent.

PS Staying away from Da Nooz one day at a time. But I couldn't miss the posts about the T-shirts for sale celebrating the first concentration camp on US soil. Yeah, Alligator Alcatraz. All profits into the first felon's pocket.

Festering

Whales outside my daughter's house. To give us all perspective. They arrive each June without fail, following the fish. All the way from South America. Sanity saving.

I am a political junkie. There, I've said. I think that if I don't monitor the news, terrible things will happen and catch me unaware - as if terrible things don't happen every single day and my awareness is not helping the situation in any way, shape or form.

I do other things, of course. But monitoring the news and posting and reading on Bluesky is not helping me. Or others. I need to pull away, skip headlines and hope for the best. I tell myself I'm pretty safe out on this remote rock on the Atlantic Ocean and it's not about me anyway, it's about the next generations following. We will survive these harrowing times. Or we won't. And there's very little anyone can do. The No Kings march in the USA was a prime lesson or how ineffective even massive marches in multiple cities and towns can be. they change absolutely nothing.

And with Carney caving to the Trump pressure and this appalling Big Awful Bill trying to get passed in the US government, things are going sideways on their axis with all of us helpless. 

Meanwhile climate change has us by the throat now on our way to extinction so does politics really matter?

I have lots of lovely items on the agenda, activities I could better enhance my outlook with. Some editing, some writing, some knitting, some social engagement.

I need to stop the other stuff eating me alive.

"Stay where my hands are" is where I need to be. Especially now.

Confession over and out - progress will be reported honestly.

Little Things/Big Things

Bits and pieces take on a life of their own as they age. Everything seems to take forever. Main focus seems to be meals, how to make them or how to pick them up somewhere else or have them delivered. I've suggested a workshop on cooking for singles here in a series of workshops my committee is putting on - well received I should add. Mindfulness, hearing, etc.

Other than that I fill a wee gratitude list every day, the fact I can still drive to wherever I choose - even though choices are limited. Gone are the days I'd drive across the island to the ferry, hop on board with my trusty dog and spend overnight on it and then drive off at the other end in mainland Canada.

I remember writing an article for a now defunct magazine years ago of never being aware when we do something for the last time, though sometimes we are. I remember dropping off my daughter at school, she was around 9, and thinking, that's the last time she'll kiss me in front of her friends outside the school. And sure enough, it was. I never thought my last marathon would be my last, or my last long ferry would be my last. Or the last time I hugged my granny or my mum or my brother.

I believe if we were more aware of this each time something precious and dear happens it would be far more meaningful.

Just the ramblings of an old geezer facing her own mortality square in the face.

My love of books continues:

Two really good reads:

Everything, everywhere, but not all at once.

 Checking in with you, my dear blogmates.

I'm dealing with a lot of exhaustion, though my last two specialist check-ins were good for my age and overall condition, i.e. just north of falling apart completely.

My days are unpredictable and sometimes the little battles that used to be a breeze overwhelm me.

(1) A breakdown between the provincial overseer of senior drug benefits and my clinical pharmacist and my regular pharmacist and me in the middle flailing around without my suddenly uncovered pain drug. Unconscionable, but sorted. Finally. Bout seriously? I didn't need the stress.

(2) My car hit a pothole and is doing that weird noise thing under the passenger side. I finally booked an appointment with the mechanic and will deal with the logistics of leaving her there all day and finding my own staggery way home. 

(3) The stress of the election I felt in my very bones. Squeaker. Truly. Carney meets with Cheeto today. Fingers crossed. Haven't watched it yet.

(4) Trying to plan an itinerary for my siblings who are ALL coming to visit me this month. Realizing my wee Toyoto won't fit them all and I'm too old to rent a larger vehicle. You read that right. Over eighties are deemed ga-ga and unable to navigate traffic. I have an accident free licence for 65 years (another you read that right). Millions of kilometres driven. Cheapest auto insurance on the planet.

Such things plunge me into a kind of paralysis. An unusual feeling for me. 

I say to myself: what am I missing that is making me feel so helpless. Looking for my mother to take care of me? To manage it all like an adult.? Decided I need to work with the Spotify sub my daughter gave me and load on all my stuff from the Ipod that has been my good friend for years and years. So I started and am delighted at how Spotify is set up. It has all my weird stuff on board. Delightful. It's like listening to my playlists it all over again for the first time as I listen to Ella and Beethoven and the Irish Kings and Oscar Peterson (eclectic I am). And oh yes a new artist I saw on PBS Sierra Hull, if you're a fan of mandolin - she's first class bluegrass.

So some pics from today when I went up to my deserted ocean and enjoyed the birds and the ever-rolling sea which always grounds me.

I'll catch up with you all now.

A month goes by.....

    

The endless ocean

Faster than a blink. Life going at 81 miles an hour like the old saw had it. At fifteen it was fifteen miles an hour and so on and so forth until now. I believe it.

I got swept up in life. Politics, family, friendships, variations on my health challenges which involved too many x-rays, too many lab visits, specialist visits, doctor visits. Old age requires preservation, an effort which belies our advancing years and ages us more, I believe. 

All my siblings, most in different time zones, are visiting me here in May. Concern for the Old Dear is uppermost I would think. We lost our brother last November and the shakiness of my health ripples through those near and dear to me.

A long time friend (another) is showing early signs of dementia. I detached from her in her recent exhibitions of it which were rather frightening (delusional, hallucinatory) but am meeting her this week to talk with her. Compassion and care. I was fortunate to hear the stories of other dear ones as they stepped over this precipice, The fear being most prominent, then the bafflement, then the resignation. All stages which can take some time. I am so very sad for her. But worried too as she will not go gentle into that good night. Her rage is rather terrifying and her paranoia something more extreme than I'be observed before. However, I am a loyal friend no matter what happens. And living in her fear and silence must be terrifying for her. She was so excessively grateful when I said we could meet and talk. She has left a trail of emotional destruction in this building. and she is in reality a very private person with clear boundaries. Now all shattered in her mental state.

As to politics, you can find me on Bluesky under my web name. I scream into the void. The most important election of my lifetime in Canada. We are close to the precipice with the right wingers here who are enmeshed with Maga and up to all the American tricks of calling Canada broken and hating immigrants and women. I find it a release. I am truly worried about the future for humanity if Canada (and hopefully Australia) don't vote this effing hatred OUT.

Well done to the Usians marching and protesting and bringing the message of hope to so many who need it, including yours truly.

We shall overcome rings in my head. We all need to be reminded. People have the power. 

Privilege

One of the traits in other humans I dislike the most is white male privilege. It's not as evident in white females, usually because they don't have the lofty heights of wealth that men do. But once wealthy, things change for women too.

I worked for many wealthy men over the years and 90% were of that variety, believing if you only worked hard enough you could be like them. And the poorer and more ill-educated one was, the more they were believed. Hence the rise of the Maga cult in the states and the convoy here in Canada. I cancelled my Twitter account because of all the white male privilege on display on that platform as there is always misogyny lying beneath it. I always count the number of women in cabinets or in any governmental representation of those in charge. I am consistently disappointed. We, women, are 51% of the population and sometimes have zero representation or a few token women who toe the line.

I offer you this:

Pope, Council of Cardinals discussed the role of women in the Church.

Even on line in the blogger world, I see this privilege, spouting off about the "misbehavior" of others whether it's protesting against injustice or not controlling their children or lying on sidewalks drunk or homeless or both, or not dressing properly in coffee shops or god forbid, begging on the street. Those are never interested in digging down deeper as to why. Enlightenment comes with ordinary curiosity. I have never forgotten the conversations I have had with those less privileged. Often it's just one event resulting in a cataclysm of one disaster after another.

But there are exceptions. I was reading a heartbreaking email from a US friend this morning who wrote about his twenty-year next door neighbours. The father was carted off in the middle of the night for driving at 63 MPH in a 55MPH zone, he was non-white as were his family. My friend. much aware of his own privilege, is speaking out publicly as the wife of his neighbour and their 2 children cannot, as they are cowering in their home in terror and fear. They have no idea where the husband and father has been sent. My friend is funding for them to get legal help as they can't. This is the state of the U.S. today. My friend is very aware that going over a fraction of the speed limit would never have seen him arrested, being white. He is beyond enraged at what has happened to his neighbour, a hard working factory worker, the sole financial support for his family.

I see more and more countries being taken over by white privileged males. Much to the detriment of civil societies with the same rules of law for everyone and not just for the huddled masses. It's terrifying. We need equality desperately and ordinary women need far more say in the issues that really matter mainly poverty, mental health, free health care and yes, climate change, the biggest challenge of all.

Losing the Run of Myself

It happens.

A combination of many issues and challenges.

Mainly an additional injury to my back.

Followed by my going off a medication I didn't believe was that essential.

And oh my god on that as the consequences had me nearly hospitalized AGAIN.

Followed by my incessant doom scrolling.

Followed by ceasing to read blog-mates' blogs.

Followed by lack of sleep.

Followed by hermitizing myself due to mobility issues.

Followed by cabin fever.

Followed by a massive pity party.

I'm peeping above the parapet today. And daring to get upright in the process.

Gratitude list.

Music - Daughter converted me to Spotify (what a dream!) so am abandoning my Ipod which served me well for over 10 years.

Flowering plants everywhere in my home.

Good immersive books.

A marvellous season of great streaming series which are distracting me from my own misery.

A beautiful photo taken by one of my brothers on his hike yesterday in West Cork. Off in the distance you can see the Fastnet Rock Lighthouse, the last piece of land seen by the Titanic on its way to the U.S. An extraordinary piece of engineering.

I'll get around to reading all your blogs soonest. I'm sure you've all been prolific ⌨ 👀💓.

 

Missing

We had a LOT of snow and I was captivated by the melting centre of the window, itself shaped like a tree.

Andrew wrote about the losses of those we love a few days ago. I had been thinking about that on and off for the last few months having brushed close to the grim reaper myself - and this was not the first time either.

Lately the loneliness has struck me, all the close friends gone, the interesting, lengthy conversations, the extended stays in my house, the pick up of conversations started some time ago as if there were no break. Ideas tossed back and forth, meals cooked together, trips taken, scrabble games, books mailed and read and emailed on. Art reviewed, knitted items made and gifted, tribulations of life shared, sometimes on a daily basis, broken hearts nurtured and healed. Memories relived over and over. New adventures shared. "Remember whens?" relived and fresh little details offered up like Christmas gifts, old friends brought back to life by those outliving them.

And on it goes.  New friends are not the same, the shared history is shorter, the not knowing them in comparative youth and energy. I find it hard to imagine the youth in those elderly faces I see, the romances or the prettiness or handsomeness. And I imagine they only see the old in me too.

I miss them all, the shared confidences of times past, the remembrances of battles fought and won (or lost). But most of all the laughter and the trust and unwavering support for each other, reminders of life back then, of loves back then, of successes back then, of movies and theatre and operas and symphonies.

My orchids never fail to enchant me.

Don't get me wrong, please. I don't spend that much time thumping my chest and bemoaning the past. This is just something I haven't seen written about much. The absolute loneliness of old age when you outlive most of your friends and outliving a beloved partner would also be the same, I would think.

I would point out that making new friends is difficult with the limited capacity of being old, especially with physical challenges. Having uncertain days, joining a new book club or getting season theatre or concert tickets would involve commitment which my health challenges would not allow. Especially in winter. I am always aware of descending into constant "organ recitals" and I have to apply those brakes to myself when I find I can't wait to plunge into a conversation about all my ailments. I mentally slap myself in time. Usually.

Making Room

 Sometimes the inside of my brain looks like this ancient old button jar of mine, now a little art piece.

I read all this stuff about aging gracefully and living life to the fullest. I’ve never been a graceful person and have no intention of starting now. The lessons would take up far too much of my time.

I was writing my Morning Pages this morning. An unbroken habit for more years than I care to count. And this Making Room thing came up, as in what am I not making room for?

Quiet time is one thing. No music, no reading no TV. A couple of hours in the afternoon. Looking at my flowers or my knitting or just doing nothing at all. I need to get back to the run of myself (as my people say) with adjustments to the reality of my life now.

I feel far too much on edge with lack of sleep nearly every night and ongoing issues with my gastric system which never seemed to recover from the Norovirus.

I must make room also just to tick off one item from the ever lengthening to do list. I put everything on there as I have the kind of brain that shoves 5 things into my head at the same time and then I lose track of them all when the next bright glittery object hoves into view.

My first test was an email in from an old client of mine (I edited for him. A lot) who wants me to finalize his memoir. And I was going to jump all over it and then stopped myself. With some recent increases in my senior benefits (thank you, Canada) I could still always use the extra money, but do I need it? He’s not a very good writer and I don’t have the spare energy right now to clean him up. So nice email back declining but thanking him for the thought.

Now onward I go, ho-ho. I’ve made other little commitments too which I will write about later.

Have you made room, deliberately, in your life to enhance your days even a little bit?

Orchids, just because. 

Sunday Selections

Joining others in this Sunday Selection mix of photo-dumps.

Elephant's Child

From The Highrise

Drifting through Life

among others.

A painting of my daughter's house which I just bought for Daughter for her birthday. I absolutely love it and so will she. Her house also overlooks the ocean where hundreds of whales come in every summer. The pond reflected is a duck pond.

Orchids and African violets - what more could a spirit need?

Apart from a shelf of unread books? All these gifted from our annual Jolabokaflod plus a couple from the local library.

An old shot from my front garden as a boat heads out to the open sea.

A baby iceberg abandoned by its mother.

Sunday Selections.

 Joining others in this Sunday Selection mix of photo-dumps.

Elephant's Child

From The Highrise

Drifting through Life

among others.

I'm just going to throw randoms out here today. I was looking through some old albums (so many, lord, so many) and selected some that bring me joy with brief descriptions

I love this one of Ansa smelling the wild irises as we hiked the cliffs to Cape St. Mary's which has one of the largest gannet populations in the world.

This was the glorious view from the deck of my last house. I could watch the fishing boats and seals from my front door.

I loved photographing my knitting on old boats and docks.

I must have hundred of pictures of sunsets from my deck at the house.

And for those who wonder about such things - here is a fishing boat posing nicely between icebergs (melting rapidly)

What Fresh Horrors are Portended?

Or the failure of the Great American Experiment.

Does anyone else out there keep shaking their heads lately and wishing they could wake up to Kamala as president and an all is well feeling in the chest?

Me too. I find most don't even want to talk about all that is happening in this world right now and He still hasn't been sworn in. I see His idiot son grinning like a maniac as he lands in Greenland planting a virtual flag like Hillary on the peak of Everest. "This is ours now, Daddy, right?" And He grins in response and tells the press in a rambling incoherent mess of an "interview," "We'll no longer call it the Gulf of Mexico, it will now be the Gulf of America."

I only read Him now, I can't look at His great melon face or listen to that awful drawn out whiny voice. 

I threw my X account to the curb and restored my sanity on BlueSky and yes, I have cut my news intake by at least 50%. If you need any good soothing series to stream, just let me know and I will share my fixes. For now, BlueSky is a decent place with kindred spirits. I need to know I am not alone in my horror and grief for the world that is now gone. He promises to bomb the tar out of the Middle East as soon as He ascends the throne. Along with controlling Canada and Panama and sending the military into Mexico.

And his tech-bro buddies will now suspend fact-checking on all the platforms.

We are on our own now. 

But humour is saving a lot of us from despair. We need to laugh more.  And like someone said recently, empathy is the missing factor in all these monsters. We all need more empathy for the pain and suffering so many are suffering. 

Will goodness prevail in the long run?

.