We skipped an event at the Clark to attend a pro-Ukraine standout in Adams, and it was a mistake.
Two teeny-tinies were buzzing about, one of which caused me a lot of trouble in the Harper writing group. The rest were “We don’t know you so we’ll ignore you.”
It threw me for a loop and I acted poorly, admittedly.
It was bitter cold and I had some intestinal distress, which didn’t help.
Ron confessed afterwards that he should have backed me up. He never does so it hadn’t even occurred to me that he’d missed an opportunity to be a good husband.
I’m an idiot to think that any progressive clique would be a good social home anyway.
Ron gave me a tip, though, on breaking in to a new group: telling story, something he does all the time.
My problem is that I don’t have a story to tell, at least not an authentic one. I do inform people that both my parents were officers in the Navy, but that doesn’t provoke interest. I don’t have anecdotes to share or reminiscences. Just a blank.
I spent a lot of time yesterday working on the new pages for MRS.
Made blueberry muffins. Ron put together a pot of soup from a package.
We stopped at Walmart on the way home for meds and groceries and got gas at Cumby for the Corolla. The price of Peet’s is out of control. Stop and Shop is out of Major Dick’s, so I’m glad we got it at Walmart, for slightly less than at Big Y as a matter of fact.
The dog adoption people chose another family for Sugar.
We are unhappy with, in fact, scared about, the moves the Trump Administration is making to undermine our national security as part of their recent Putin rapprochement.