Monday dawns with light gray skies. More thunderboomers possible today around lunchtime, but no tornado warnings. Springtime in Texas. The warming nights will get the bermudagrass growing and hopefully put an end to the yellow flue. Itchy eyes, but no running nose, so there is hope.
Billionaire has sex with willing 15 yr old in his jet. Game of Thrones fans are really irked with the season finale, and it looks like James Brennon is going to take the fall for the Obama administrations spying on the never-ending saga of the Trump campaign. AP doubles down on its Trump attacks, Trump mispronounces Buttigieg, and so it goes. It’s like birth pangs … and I am a bit apprehensive of what is going to be birthed.
So goes my mind this gloomy morning in the bucolic pampas of Texas. So, what will be, will be goes the old saw and song.
It is Snooks grocery day, and I am hoping to get old Bucephalus down to the mechanic for a new battery. Or not. And the weekly mowing time is here and my battle with goatheads flattening my tires continues.
But it is coffee sipping time, followed by breakfast, and then some ‘round tuits …