… I like writing this blog? Because I can write anything I want and nobody can tell me not to. I mean, they can tell me not to or advise against it or whatever, but I can do it anyway. To hell with them.
Telling someone to go to hell means nothing when it comes from a person who does not believe in hell. I might as well say go to North Korea. Say hi to Kimmie when you get there.
It’s all hypothetical. Nobody told me not to blog. People would have to actually read it first. An that’s just like having bronchitis. 🤣
I’m really on the verge of going into serous hiding again. It’s safer you know, to be officially / unofficially off the grid.
And do you know what the hell else?
My friend, Ms. Margret made me lunch today and I literally can’t remember the last time someone else fixed me food at their house. Yeah, yeah, Christmas lunch or dinner, sure. But this was legit.
Chunky veg beef soup served with Zesta-like crackers and mild cheddar slices off a block. She even gave me a choice of desserts. I picked a drumstick (which I had not had before) and it was delicious. But I could have had a Klondike bar or Christmas shortbread cookies, or biscotti with tea. I’m pretty sure I picked the least healthy option but it sure makes me want to buy a box of Klondike bars the next time I’m at the grocery,
It was delicious. I mean all of it. Margret, her table, cats, conversation and hospitality. Her husband who is working from home because of Covid excused himself to the basement so we could enjoy ourselves. Probably so he could get work done, but how thoughtful.
And I enjoy Margret’s stories. Always out of left field, but enchanting none the less. I felt so welcome and comfortable. I even found myself opening up and talking too.
It was lovely to talk to someone about Greta, whose documentary I’m watching in semi-clandestine fashion after having rude comments thrown around by one of the younger members of my household. That’s fine (it’s really not).
When I asked Margret if she knew who Greta was she smiled and rushed off to her back room and returned with Greta’s book that she just recently picked up at Barnes and Noble. Brick and mortar. That’s Margret.
She doesn’t text either. A bit inconvenient but I sigh and daydream about that. Popping open a chunky Campbell’s soup can with a friend and chatting for a few hours. You know, as long as there’s dessert too.
— Brief Blog intermission here to thank the people who programmed the auto-emoji suggestion feature into the keyboard. I’ve just now committed to memory, for the first time in my life the proper spelling of dessert. The wrong way leads to camels 🐪 and cactus 🌵. Bravo!! 🍨 🧁 🍮
Anyway. So that was lovely and since I blew my healthy eating plan by like 1pm, I went ahead and declared Yet another “Cheat day.” Which is to say I had frozen pepperoni pizza for dinner with a glass of wine and two whole helpings of salt and vinegar potato chips.
I may or may not be done yet.
I may or may not want to remember this day when I speak in front of an audience about freedom six weeks from now.
I may or may try going off the grid, electronically speaking.
I will not let anyone tell me what to do, what to watch or think or how to act. I will do as I please. Thanks very much and good day.
Peace on Earth to All,