Morning Glory

 

A Hundred Personal Messages

Doing what I can. I can't/won't knock on doors or march or go to rallies, but I can write messages encouraging mothers to vote. Non-partisan messages. 

 The post cards are preaddressed and pre-stamped--I add a brief personal message. 

The campaign is aimed at mothers who are registered voters but may need a nudge to get them to the polls. It's organized by Moms Rising, a non-partisan advocacy group.

 If you'd like to fill out 20 or 100  postcards, go HERE.

(And I'm almost done! Six to go. It went quickly and it was fascinating to see the names that came up.)

 

A Concept of a Recipe

A riff on Fish Veracruz.  Big catfish filets, marinated in yoghurt with a little Dijon mustard then rolled in a mixture of flour, salt, paprika, and garlic powder and fried in canola oil. 

Sered atop cheesy grits and dressed with a fresh salsa of lightly sauteed onions, garlic, bell pepper, and tomato. Some green olives stirred in at the end.

There should have been some shrimp, to come nearer to the Veracruz ideal, but it was pretty tasty for a concept.

 

Signs of the Season

                                                                                   

 

Afterglow

 

                                                                                  


I spent a lot of time yesterday, reading various accounts of the debate.  Much was predictable--the Former Guy saying he had a Great Night--his Best Debate Ever--and various Maghats wringing their hands and calling the moderators biased. And suggesting that Harris's earrings were actually transmitters, sending information.

I think it was an opinion piece in the Wall Street Journal that said Harris overdid it with the personal attacks and sarcasm. 

What? When personal attacks are the Former Guy's go-to strategy and sarcasm is his explanation for being caught in a lie or inconvenient truth.

I got the impression that the writer of the opinion piece felt Harris was being unladylike--and just barely managed not to say so.

Hurrah for her! 

Back in 2016, I watched Hillary ignore a looming adversary in a debate. She was a model of calm ladylike behavior and full of well-reasoned statements. I hated it when she lost the election by the slimmest of margins.

Kamala, on the other hand, took control, beginning with the handshake and went on to catalog his many failings and bait him into evermore unhinged responses. 

And oh! her facial expressions! They spoke for her. (Great article HERE about this.)

 She ate his lunch. 

And how I enjoyed it.

Debate Night

Well, the Former Guy didn't seem to be enjoying himself very much. You could see his cheeks flush as he got worked up. I have no idea how his true believers interpreted his statements--he even got in the debunked claim of Haitian immigrants stealing and eating pets (which one of the moderators called him on.) I thought he was pretty close to raving, that is when he wasn't sounding like a kindergartener (She did it.)

In my opinion, Kamala offered a wonderful contrast to that angry, lowering, hateful man. She offered plans; he hurled baseless accusations and scare tactics. Her demeanor was collected and amused; he was unhinged--but actually didn't froth at the mouth so that's a point for him.

How in the world can thinking people, moral people vote for that angry orange dumpster fire? How can they believe his lies, his fear-mongering, his self-praise? 

It's baffling--and scary.

 

Josie Does a Blog Post

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                                                                                       💢💃💃💕💜

This is me. I took the pictures and Meema is writing the words I let her say. And this is a selfie I did.

I got some new shoes with cupcakes on them. And I have pink socks. Pink is my favorite!

The babies are snuggling with Bailey.

              

The Meaning of Life

                                                                          

What's it all about, Cory? Is there anything more than lying in the sun and eating cat food? I mean, is this all there is to life?

                                                                                     

Well, Angeline, we do have our Night Games--chasing the catnip mousies and knocking things off the bedside table. Not to mention jumping over (and sometimes on) The Woman. You heard that funny noise she made last night when I landed on her belly. Also, I take the occasional stroll outside. You should try it--very refreshing and The Woman or That Man are always around to open a door when I want to come back in and use the litter box. Really, it would give you a whole new perspective.

                                                         

Hmmm. Well, Cory, I'll think about it. While I enjoy the sunshine and the fuzzy blue blanket.

                                                        

                                                       

Veiled Sunrise

 

The Party That Really Cares About the Family

                                                 

 Childcare, school shootings, abortion--all family issues that are in the news these days.

The GOP has a lot to say about abortion (Murder! Bad! Outlaw it! Prosecute providers!) 

Okay, so, caring for those children that the government mandates be carried to term--surely a compassionate government, a government that really cared about children, would step in with help. Wouldn't it?

But childcare, according to JD Vance, could be left to grandparents or other helpful relatives. Or, failing that, since not everyone has helpful relatives, maybe just get rid of cumbersome regulations and certifications for childcare--making it easier for anyone to open a care center for tiny tots.  Away with background checks and annoying safety rules! Welcome to Lecter's Littles Daycare!

And if the tots make it out of daycare to school, well, JD, speaking from behind bulletproof glass, says that school shootings are just a fact of life.  Thoughts and prayers and pin on that assault rifle pin that shows where your true allegiance lies.

How can so many otherwise kind and caring people buy in to the fear-mongering lies and blatant hypocrisy of the GOP, now that it's in thrall to the former guy?

Sad, very sad.

Flowers of Late Summer

                                                      

                                                                                    

Josie the Second Grader

                                                                       

              I always have to have my picture taken with the library bears--maybe because I am a Brush Creek Elementary School Bear Cub. I am in second grade, and I really like it. My best friends are in my class and two of them sit at my table. 

Also, I rode the bus home with a friend for a playdate. And I had my first real sleepover last week at her house. It was great! 

We are selling The World's Best Chocolate to make money for school stuff. I have sold a lot. Meema and Grumpy said when they were in school a long time ago, members of the band sold the same chocolate except that the bars were bigger and didn't cost as much.

                                                

There are almost always kids to play with at the library. There was a girl that I knew from preschool and some others. We ran all over the playground and swung on the monkey bars.

When they had to leave, I settled down and read some books. Meema says I am a very good reader because I sound words out and I read with expression. Of course, sometimes there are words I have to ask Meema about, like postponed and pressures and autumn. 

Before long, I will probably know all the words.

                                            

September Song

 On my weekly trip to the grocery, my heart was lifted by the sight of swathes of bright goldenrod and purple ironweed, filling a bottom by the river with the intimation of coming autumn.

Another intimation then came to me: this bottom has always been used for pasturing fat Black Angus steers. And when they're not there, the proprietor has kept it mowed with his tractor.

Not this year. As I recall, the proprietor lives elsewhere and is an elderly man--perhaps this is one of those bitter-sweet September songs of coming to the end of things.

Time of year; time of life . . .

Like a garden I pass on my way: meticulously maintained until this year when its size was much reduced. Now the weeds are taking it, though some brave zinnias persist.

Though I said goodbye to my own garden a few years ago, I'm sad to see others succumbing. 

But I can still enjoy the goldenrod and ironweed. And the zinnias.

A Mixed Bag

Old mule-drawn hay rakes and a mowing machine--out to pasture. Many years ago, John and our mules Pete and Molly actually used these.

Turkey teenagers on the run

                                                Joe Pye Weed

Resting dog

                                               Confused crabapple blooming

 

Forest Bathing

                                                       

After more than a week of temperatures hitting the low nineties and no rain, yesterday's cooler temps and soaking rain washed over us like a blessing as we sat on the porch. The smell of rain on the dry earth, the patter of drops on the metal roof, the damp coolness on our skin, along with the always entrancing view of mist rising amid the wooded hills brings a feeling of deep contentment.

I'd heard about 'forest bathing' as a type of therapy. (Go HERE for a piece from NPR,) and realized that we are fortunate to be able to take advantage of a version of this every day--whether from the porch or among the trees on the mountain behind the house, or just sitting on the bench in our entryway and feeling the embrace of the Kousa dogwood.

Back in the nursing home/rehab center seven years ago, back when an accident broke my ankle and dislocated my shoulder, I was so thankful to be in a bed near a window. Of course, the primary view was brick walls and a concrete floored smoking area but above this, ah! I could see some sky and treetops. I'm pretty sure this sight kept me from biting anyone.

I am so spoiled by where we live--with trees all around and a good long view. 

And now rain! Life is good.

                                                                             

                                                                                  

Rabbit, Rabbit