Moving Ahead

 OK, so let’s pretend like yesterday didn’t happen, I had a terrible day, dear reader(s), just upset, malcontent, so hard on myself, all that yucky stuff that seems to happen on Mondays (in winter, particularly). Today is a new day, and I have plans to go to mom’s to read her some of my Freshman year letters from Smith that Kristin gave me, plus work on two more art pieces, “Letter to Smith” and the third triptych panel. Mom will have had time to read the Smith Alumnae Quarterly, and perhaps she will like to contribute to my art? (Hee, hee.) We both are curious about that lawsuit against Smith that the conservative student lodged last year, or the year before—the one profiled on Fox News. I’ll be sure to ask mom to Google where that case stands right now. Can’t find any mention of it in the liberal press.

I’m keeping a very close eye on Legs, who is getting more spurts of feebleness yet still is hanging in there. He insists on his two walks every day, and is eating and drinking with gusto. We give him a pain pill every day, and I can just tell he’s not ready to leave us yet. I know when the time will come; former companions Big Lou and Miss Nell taught us what to look for and sent us the signs when it was time to go. I know it is going to be tough to say goodbye to Legs, but he will be with my other beloved hounds waiting for us at the Rainbow Bridge some day. I do worry so about Lily and how she will handle Legs being gone. We shall just have to take it one day at a time, as always.

I fell asleep in my chair last night, I don’t remember exactly when, but I do recall sweet Michael waking me up and sending me upstairs to bed. I know I was tired from that staycation, I didn’t get the best of sleep being in a bed other than my own. I’m glad to be home in my own environment, even though it’s messy and we desperately need a house cleaner. Fingers crossed Michael will locate some cleaners for us, and not chase them away if they request more money after a series of deep cleans (should that be required). The last cleaners said we were the messiest house they had, something that made me deeply embarrassed and wanting to hide in a closet.

Poor and messy, perhaps that’s my lot in life. Let’s give thanks to the bipolar meds, which make me feel like I’m in tar and can’t pick up after myself. Can’t tell you how many bipolars I’ve talked to who have to live in cluttered, dirty environments—who’s gonna compensate us for all the cleaning bills we have to pay to get a little respect for ourselves? No one, that’s who. Grrrrr.

Yes, I’m flirting with a continued bad mood today, and I definitely don’t want that. So how to turn this beat around? Go to YouTube and listen to playlists dreamt up by AI? Perhaps. I ordered a meaty Jasper Johns book from Amazon, seeing as I’m planning on paying homage to him in a new piece of art. He is deeply influential on my work, I would spend hours in the Museum of American Art in Washington, DC looking at his stuff when I was in my 20s. Ah yes, I have my favorite artists, I wish I could own a full cabinet of coffee mugs emblazoned with images painted by my favorites. 

Since when did woke politics make it into Pandora ads on my Classical station? “Brown, buttery pistachio lattes from Starbucks?” Good Lord, it’s only February 2023, the 2024 Presidental election is more than 1 1/2 years away…not taking any chances, I guess. Wonder if other Americans are wise to how political hucksters are working their way into commercial product ads? Where’s Andy Warhol to suss through everything and perhaps give a lecture on how to educate ourselves on free will and power of making our own decisions ourselves?!

Woke politics. Maybe I need to just take mom up on her offer to educate me on the more conservative black voices around the country today. Or maybe I need to take Dr. Levy’s advice and avoid politics all together. Or maybe I find my own way down the middle, with the majority of this country. I know I’m in a good crowd—with the Independents—and as a woman, my kind decides elections. Case closed. Follow The Wall Street Journal, Trust My Decisions, they chose that moniker for a reason. I like it.

OK, that’s enough for today. Time to warm up coffee, take a shower, walk the hounds. Nibble on some cottage cheese and tomatoes because I feel fat. And so are the days of our lives. Adios.