Adam

Home and not getting anything much done. One of those days. But, easily covered lunches at work, then home. Picked up groceries, and mole from Red Iguana.

I keep looking at the living room, knowing I need to at least vacuum, and I sit. Putting it off. Delaying. Lowering my expectations.

Dylan and I have been together for 26 years this week. We count our activation date, always have, since we have not been apart more than a few days, none that we have not at least spoken to each other since. Amazing, to be so compatible. He's a lovely human, and we fit together so well. Not the same, but so complimentary. Easy as breathing. Not a moment's regret, only gushing gratitude.

Given up on saints and attendant miracles. False gods and disappointing religions. Best grow a backbone, eschewing wishbones. Unless you have to fly, of course.

Work the problem. So, practical saints, Adam Savage and Chris Hadfield. Work the problem, and Failure is Always an Option. No guarantees, no illusions other than the ones we create to delight.


The petition to the Electoral College is up to 4.6 million. Our Hail Mary Pass, our Last, Best Hope. But hope is a mocker, ask Pandora, and everything cycles. So we hold on to those we love, and Keep Calm, and Carry On. Never letting those who would make America Hate Again an inch on our souls. Especially not to the Squeaking of Ass Trumpets.

So, on the Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, we will do what we feel we need to, and let the rest go. Staying relaxed ourselves is more important than chasing down every last dust bunny. There is food. There will be warmth. Perspective, although not total, is what keeps it all alive.

And spoons. Especially hand carved applewood spoons. And mole. Enough mole.

Chili, too, with tortillas.