Reflections on the 3rd Night of Election Night

I am missing Minnie and BowWow and especially BowWow’s swearing, profane, little uppity, insufferable self. Those of you who don’t know, I used to have talking dogs that kept up a running political commentary that could become quite cutting. I loved them and miss them with all my heart although our current dogs, Swirl and Punchy, are swell. They have no comment. Ever. They don’t even bark. Ever. You probably won’t believe that but it’s true.

There isn’t a single member of Trump’s inner circle (which must be the size of a pencil eraser) has the balls to tell him he’s completely crazy? And, because they want to humor him, they send people running around the country shouting FRAUD at grandmas in their embroidered sweatshirts opening ballots and putting them in stacks to be scanned. Jesus H.

I miss the idea of having a cold or some minor ailment that wouldn’t require that I make a list of who should get my jewelry. Like, oh, I have a stuffy nose, I should take to my bed to read novels and doze all afternoon, instead of oh, I have a stuffy nose, let me find my will and put it on the dining room table so, you know, the survivors can find it. No worries. I don’t have a stuffy nose.

Thanksgiving this year is happening by way of our deliveries to the three kids who live here in town. It’s going to be a big box and a wave. We have Covid-19 cases through the roof in Wisconsin so I had to toss my half-baked ideas of having Thanksgiving dinner in the garage or huddled around our new propane-powered Mr. Heater. There will be other meals. Other years. Other times. That’s what they tell us.

I wish I was writing fabulous things right now but I’m not. A few years from now, I’ll be stopped at a light in front of a bookstore and I’ll think, damn, why didn’t I write that amazing, best-selling book during the pandemic instead of frittering away my time watching cable news and reading all the Outlander books? But that’s then. This is now. Plus, you know, I don’t write books. I write this.

__________________________

Photo by Kim Gorga on Unsplash