All True Sentences Friday Round-Up

Someone in pink pajamas and a blue fluffy bathrobe is walking up and down the street in front of my house talking on the phone. Hemingway said to write the first true sentence. Well, there you go.

I sat in the presence of Sister Helen Prejean today. Sister Prejean’s prison ministry led to her lifelong opposition to the death penalty. Today, she led the audience through the first time she was asked to witness an execution. She told of holding hands and praying, one way glass, and victims’ families. Her latest book, The Death of the Innocents, chronicles the paths to execution of two people that the evidence exonerated but the legal system was unable or unwilling to reprieve. She told these heartbreaking stories, sprinkling in memories of growing up and finding places to relieve us with humor. It was an extraordinary hour.

Trump’s punishment is to be made to sit still in a courtroom all day. His discomfort radiates. That he can’t be on the phone or eat or play golf or talk. It has to be driving him crazy. No one has ever made him sit down and sit still before. A lifetime of indulgence is what led him to this moment. Pity.

My hideous cough is over. This means I won’t be writing any more horrible short stories about fairies that come in the night offering to slay a baby in order to stop the world’s coughing. (I notice that didn’t pick up too many likes.) However, gardening season is upon us which is a whole other form of futility and defeat for which there is no cough syrup.

My husband got me buffalo wool socks and gloves for my birthday. This is because he loves all things cold or arctic or both. With the buffalo wool socks on, I could walk across the Russian tundra in deep winter to meet Yury at Varykino, never feeling a single sting of the freezing, merciless cold on my tender feet. I am ready for what’s next. So ready.