Monday comes sans fog this morning as I pad down to my studio to see what is going on with my far-flung family and friends. One friend shares before and after photos of my old bohemian days. What was once dives and honkytonks has gentrified into boutique shops and Caffe latte emporiums. And so, the world moves on without me. Another shares this little jewel of prose. I am in awe!
My coffee was so dark, a demon mistook it for a portal to hell.
Long story short: I need a new mug, a mop and maybe an exorcism.
~ Becky Wiegers
I suppose it must be the same with politics. I am too old and beat up to chase the government varmints off my property with a shotgun these days. Assessors and inspectors drive up and down my neighborhood with impunity. Political types from a party I have grown to completely despise feel free to trumpet their political victory like everyone agrees with them and misread my sullen visage to mean that I somehow share that victory with them.
So, I sip my dark coffee, (thanks, Becky. I’ll never see my coffee cup in quite the same way as I did before!) read the posts, and let the morning unfold naturally.