Oh hi everyone in These titles mean nothing.
- Aug. 29, 2024, 12:16 p.m.
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- Public
It’s me again.
First entry since the big update. I haven’t really noticed any differences but that’s ok. I am at the stage of life that differences are the enemy. Even good ones make me suspicious.
Random list of randomness.
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I’ve got a crush on Michael Cohen. I see him podcasting on YouTube, and he reminds me of Woody Allen. I guess they’re my type. He had a guy on last night talking about cults. I wrote the guy’s name down in my notebook. Steven Hassen, author of The Cult of Trump, had been a Moonie. He said as a Moonie he had fasted for Nixon.
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I’m getting so I want to go back to my old addiction. I want a nice cold bubbly acid sweet Diet Pepsi. A couple days ago I bought a bunch of pop for Jim - the store was running a pre-Labor Day sale of buy three twelve packs at regular price and get three twelve packs free. Turns out it cost $27 for an assortment of What’s Your Poison. Six times twelve is seventy two. I got 7Up, sugar Pepsi, Dr. Pepper, and maybe something else. No Diet Pepsi though. I was being a good girl. But I know the end is in sight. In the last week I’ve had maybe four or five regular sugar pops. Oh and half a can of extremely stale beer.
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I’ve been reading Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s war-time diary. There is an account of giving birth in 1942 which is kind of gripping. A long time greatly beloved dog - a German shepherd named Thor who had been with the family since after the death of their first child - had died.
She saw him waiting for her when she had her whiffs of gas. She took a postcard with a picture of a deer carved in wood by a Native American artist to look at. She wanted things of nature to concentrate on during labor. She was offended by green painted hospital rooms.
Another year She went to give blood for wounded soldiers and was turned down because weighing 105 lbs she was 5 lbs too light/thin/small to give blood.
I really should write more about her. There is a genuineness about her and her life and her family that really affects me. -
Those same years are covered in Rose Fitzgerald’s memoir. Both women were married to men who opposed Ameirca’s entry into WWII. Reading about the war filtered through their sensibilities is quite touching. Of course the Kennedy family was involved in the war. Losses. Lindberghs and Kennedys were incredibly blessed and cursesd people. Looking into their lives and feeling that you can share them a bit is a sort of gift.
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I haven’t said anything here but my Iphone will no longer charge. I called a place in Decorah that says they will put a new one in. I don’t go to Decorah very often. I have a doctor’s appointment in December. Can I, should I, wait that long? I’ll keep you informed. Not by phone though.
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Fiber optic has been by our house on the road. They haven’t come to the house to hook us up. I feel kind of neutral about it all. Our current satellite service is satisfactory, but I guess progress is progress.
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Son Jim is going to be on the ballot in November. He has agreed to be on a county conservation committee. He filled two pages of signatures supporting his nomination. I never vote for those offices because they are never opposed, but this time I might. He let me sign his petition.
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Grandson Will’s football season has started but I haven’t gotten a report. Football scares the hell out of me. I guess the odds are with any one player - I mean of course they are. But it seems so unnecessary to me.
I have:
a vase of home-grown marigolds on the table
a non-functioning tab key on my keyboard
a promise of cooking something for lunch
a concern for the future
a nudge from the past
an end or maybe not
too many naps
a starlight mint
a crush on Michael Cohen.
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