Self-Reflection on Sunday

with and without help

With political turmoil all around, I decided to keep the focus on myself today. So I am doing this post before I start reading the Sunday paper or going for my Sunday drive. It seems as though my future may be a bit different based on the latest diagnosis of my eyes. The things most likely to be affected are reading and driving—how’s that for irony. But ever the Pollyanna, I am already figuring out how to deal with it, one day at a time. It’s funny, though, that a lot of the suggestions involve more technology. Quite frankly, I am trying to get away from that aspect of my life and may spend more time interacting with human beings. Riding the bus has become one of my enjoyments, so I’ll continue to explore what destinations I can reach that way. Listening to audio tapes of books would be an option (although so far I’d stick to larger print books if I need them). And of course my ears also need attention so I have an appointment to replace the aids I lost during the pandemic. As I told my pharmacist, I’ve begun to think of my body as a fine car which occasionally needs replacement parts or a tune-up. I wouldn't begrudge my Rolls Royce, would I?

Here’s a cool bit of technology which helped me this morning. As I began typing this post, my laptop notified me that I was getting a phone call, which was a good thing because I had left the phone in the other room and could not have heard it ringing. Glad I didn’t miss my morning love lines!

Now back to the state of the country. Of course, I think it is my duty to warn of the abject disaster that awaits us if Project 2025 were to be any more implemented than it already is. But also, of course, I know that I am mainly preaching to the choir here on Substack. There are plenty of what I am calling Jonestown people here on the app also, but our readerships don’t overlap. I purposely seek out some of the extreme views so that I can think of ways to counteract the propaganda. I tend to be less than diplomatic when yelling at the radio (or occasionally telly) though. So it’s perhaps best that I confine myself to writing, which I can at least go back and tone down if necessary. I have taken to restacking a lot of my favorite writers, even those that I cannot comment on because I am not a paid subscriber. There are a lot of us who see the light but also understand the seduction of tribal belonging. I’m eternally grateful that the main thing my darling Mum taught both of her girls was to be independent. We both learned early on to support ourselves financially and stand up for our rights. Each of us actually took our first husbands’ last names, but then reverted to our original name after those divorces. We have each kept our names through subsequent marriages. Women are not property.

And now before I really work myself into a rant, I’m going to turn back to the lovely little video I just got from my grandson who at 11 months is saying HI to everyone. I’m weeping with joy for all the good stuff still abroad in this land, and I count all my faithful readers among the best people ever.

Peace and Love on Sunday!