Author: Peg

Also, still resting up.

Had a nice visit with the family over lunch at my favorite Salvadoran restaurant. The kids brought goodies and left with origami. The best gifts can be eaten, drunk, or recycled.

It’s still too cold and windy for my comfort.
And it’s much too Trumpy.

So proud of my fellow asylum residents who showed up in the windy, chilly, F-ing cold weather. 

By the time I got back to the building, my hands were so cold I couldn’t sign the guestbook at the memorial service.

It was a Unitarian service.
Protest togs were welcome.
Possibly encouraged.

Just looked nasty. Didn’t really rain much. Hope tomorrow is sunny for No Kings Rally 3.

Seriously people.
This is important.
Go out tomorrow.
Be on the street.
Your country needs you.

Spent some time studying my tax returns today. Yes, I pay someone to prepare them. But, as Ronald Reagan said: Trust, but verify.

It’s remarkable how much better Reagan seems these days.

I briefly considered feeding this year’s return and last year’s into ChatGPT and asking it to compare and advise.

My Social Security number.
Account numbers.
What could go wrong?

But wait, it’s not as if that information is particularly well hidden after DOGE.

Tomorrow I will look at the Virginia numbers. No need to over-stress myself. One jurisdiction at a time.

I had no idea that I could make a blow-up bunny out of 12-inch paper. Guess I don’t have COPD.

My body is voting “present” today. That’s good enough.

Still getting three or four small, manageable facial zaps an hour. No additional screaming shocks. I would prefer zero zaps and shocks, of course. But this I can deal with. And I am grateful that I can deal with it.

One of tonight’s dinner entrées appears to be mashed potatoes, lentils, and burnt carrots. Hard pass.

In other domestic news, I tossed four hundred sheets of not-quite-square origami paper into the recycling box.

It was beautiful paper. But off by about a sixteenth of an inch.

I do not need that level of irritation in my life.
The news feed already provides sufficient supply of irritation.

What’s happening?
Other than the slow destruction of the world as I understood it.

A billion of my tax dollars are being sent to France to stop wind farming. Didn’t we once pay American farmers not to grow soybeans?

I hope to live long enough to see the end of this nightmare.

If not, at least I will not have remained silent.
See you in the streets on March 28.

If I don’t talk about it. Maybe it will not exist. I knew it was coming back. I could feel it. It has been zapping a bit for the last week or so.

Today, it attacked me with a real shock attack. I would say it lasted 3 minutes. But I am sure it was less than 30 seconds. When I got myself under control, I heated a gel pack and hopped into bed with it on my face.

If this is the normal flare-up, I can expect another week of this. Then, hopefully, it will go back into remission for another year.

Trigeminal neuralgia. Tic douloureux. Doesn’t kill you. But it is known as the Suicide Disease. 

I don’t like to think about this. I don’t like to talk about it. Denial is how I deal with it.

Fortunately, since I am an old woman, I don’t have to attempt to carry on a normal life. I feel sorry for people who have responsibilities and TN. 

Nevertheless, spring is still happening.

I am trying to start my days earlier. Why wake up at 5 AM if all you are going to do is doom-scroll until breakfast at 8 AM?

So I am pretending I have a job.
My job is being an old woman.
That is why I was watering orchids before breakfast.

It seemed like a good day for an outing. I took the bus to Georgetown and added some walking. I chose Georgetown specifically because it is not easy to get to from the Asylum by bus, therefore I rarely go. Which is an excellent reason to go.

Walked four miles.
Did not get run over by a bike or a scooter.
Had a very nice lunch.

A most satisfactory way to spend a sunny spring day.

Job performance review:
Old woman functioning within normal parameters.

And a second fine springy day. Great day for a walk. 

Meanwhile, I continue to be awed by the utter stupidity of the current administration.

Do they not understand that actions have consequences?
Do they have no concept of cause and effect?

I reached for a note pad to record the need for coffee, and came up with one Carlton’s favorite pads. (Everyone my age is awash in note pads).

These were used in the Park Service 25 years ago. Inside the front cover were “The Ten Standard Firefighting Orders”.

As the years go by, I am increasingly convinced that these rules apply to almost every situation — not just wildfires.

The Standard Orders were developed by the Forest Service in 1957 and are still used today, with only minor changes.

Keep informed.
Know what is happening.
Plan for what might happen next.
Identify escape routes.
Post lookouts.
Be alert. Act decisively.
Stay connected.
Communicate clearly.
Maintain control.
Put safety first.

Simple.
Practical.

Apparently not transferable to leadership.

I suppose Ten Standard Government Leadership Orders are out of the question.

There is enough misery in the world. Let’s have happy things today.

I experimented with five hours of No Tech Time today.

An interesting exercise.

Fortunately, I had an old-school, solid-state grocery list so I could shop. However, I did allow myself to pay for the groceries with my watch. Wouldn’t want to take this offline nonsense too far.

I made an excellent lunch for myself. Completely self-serving.

Dinner plans are simpler: bread pudding and wine, after Cosmos for Women’s History Month.

And no, I did not invent Cosmos for Women’s History Month. That initiative came from Dining Services. I may have reservations about their cooking skills, but one must admire their commitment to cocktails and historical awareness.

Stylish. Impractical. Probably not compatible with smartwatches.

Still cold. So I am remembering a warmer time.
Just three months and five thousand miles ago.

I am always unhappy with March. I am a year older. Winter is supposed to be over, but it isn’t. And it is time to sort out my taxes.

Why am I paying taxes? Some days it feels like I am simply filling the pockets of criminals.

Oliver Wendell Holmes famously said, “Taxes are the price we pay for a civilized society.”

Well. I am not getting my money’s worth.

Today I made my required annual visit to the nurse’s office to prove that I am still alive.

I had to answer all manner of challenging questions: my name, the date, my address, and whether I hold the rail when using the stairs.

Apparently, I am cleared to remain in the Old Bat’s Cave for another year. Provided I continue to pay the rent.

A fairly boring day.
There are many worse things than a boring day.

And tonight’s culinary adventure awaits:
Falafel-Filled Mushroom Caps.
Hard pass.