It's raining, it's pouring, the u.s. congress is snoring. Gaetz & his clowns try to burn US down

The u.s. congress is snoring.  Gaetz & his congress of clowns try to burn US down.

To see if they win, just tune in to MSNBC every morning.

 

I hope to see my passport soon and travel beyond all this.

I do hope they do not suceed.  Our democracy was inspirational, 

a shining city on a mountain top.  I thought it could not be compromised.

What could our congressional leaders have done?  How have they been blackmailed?

By whom? For what dark reason?

 

Our salvation as a country may rest with Liz Cheney and those rare republicans willing to join with democratic legislators, 

 

 

Saturday June 22nd 2024 - THE SUMMER OF 2024

     My job now is to try to stitch myself back together into a passable human being.  I'm no sewer like my sister Rhetta.or my other sister Brumas, stitched to her wheelchair, her home, and her trans-husband Charlize, a possible wolf in sheeps' clothing.  I wonder what her tranquilized thoughts are...seldom of me and mine, mostly angered thoughts of her daughter-in-law.  

Her daughter in law is most lucky to have Matthew Katzenbach as her husband.  He is a great and gentle mind concerned more with love than law. He uses his courtroom as an encanto to the distraught vics,  perps, and jurists.    Coming from a long line of surgeons and prominent attorneys (in current history-Atty General Nicholas K, who faced Gov. Wallace on public school segregation).  His calm kind ways keep us basted together so that our familial connection remains. Connections that are tenuous for lack of use.

I am thinking of my grandmother, Mama Georgia, for whom I was named, and her embroidery. She used to embroider pillow cases.  

I hope I become the beneficiary of the backbone of the well-woven.

 

THE TEA CUP WHALE STORY

The tea cup whale image came out of the bordom of camping in the rain with my then-husband Philip, whenever we got any time off from our jobs as correction officers in the city's Rockefekker (or Rockefeller--Who Else But Nelse?- Rockefeller and his girlfriend, Happy)Actually, it was a knickname given to one of his friends by the 'crowd' (not gang) of guys, perhaps by another member--Piggy Paully who was reputed to be as High in width (laying down {supine} ya know, on his back. I don't remember any specific episodes ever being spoken, much less written.I've been thinking and reading Moby Dick (Herman Melville) and maybe, for me, there is some brain whizzing connection occurring.Perhaps, the next time I see Ember and Twyla I might ask if they have any ideas for a whale adventure. Fun to think about.

What is the LARGEST type?

The type name I always  pick is Georgia, for obvious reasons.

It is clear and easy to read.  

I am getting through each day by eating/cooking/cleaning.  

Breakfast is always easy.  Coffee, maybe egg & toast later on.

Lunch/Dinner when I feel hungry and easy food like pasta or rice.

I do make marinara sauce and refrigerate it. It works for me as it very easy to poach eggs in it as well as atop pasta, rice or a small meatloaf.

I am trying  to learn to cook using 2 electric (one small /one large) burners and a large enough Air Fry countertop unit.  

I'm doing the best I can.  I'm not the recipes-in-the-head type.  Joe cooked for us, for me, all the time.  My best contribution to dinner was calling and driving to pick up the Chinese food from the Cambridge Chinese Restaurant.

The other thing is that living alone means eating alone...

At Book Club yesterday we (Nancy, Sonya, Julie) said something about Joe and it made me tear up. (them too) Good but also awful for me. It still feels physical-the pain I feel is in my body not just my mind.

I think of Isabel loosing Gray so suddenly.  Her daughters made her move and sell the house.  I wonder if it made a difference to her pain.

 

The NOW of GRIEF

How long has it been since Joe died? APRIL 14 2023 Three hundred and ninty-seven days one year, one month and 1 day The pain of his loss is acute

FRIDAY MARCH 22nd 2024

 It has been a very rough week.

Deborah is now a resident of Fishkill Center for Rehabilitation in Beacon New York.

Rhetta has been trying to patiently help Deborah.  If  Rhetta had not been alarmed that she could not reach Deb and called Robin, Deb's friend, and  Deb;s social worker Caitlin, Deborah would not have been found in time to save her life.  

Apparently some part of the ceiling came down falling on Deborah, causing such injury that she lay there for several days before Caitlin got to her house.  

On Wednesday March 20th, Rhet and I talked and messaged a few times.  At noon during a cell phone call Rhet told me that the hospital called her to say that Deborah was in very bad shape, such bad shape that Rhetta should visit quite soon.

It has turned out that the hospital agent RN? who called was overstating Deborah's physical problems.  Deborah is 72 and has some cognitive impairment.  She has managed to live independently up until recently.