I worked all day at the big box, a full eight on my feet. Twenty-seven plus miles logged since Friday, the doctor will be pleased. I came home and made a pan of homemade mac and cheese and grilled up some smoked sausage. I ate too much which is probably why I am up at five ayem; all of that grease oozing through my veins.
I see the prosecutor in St. Louis has charged pink shirt guy and his wife for waving guns at the trespassers who invaded their neighborhood. This is where we are, criminals are celebrated and folks are prosecuted for wrong-think.
We went to graduation party Saturday to mark the non-ceremony held a few weeks back. We were headed home in the late twilight. Cruising the country roads and state highways with the windows down, the sultry air reminded me of my youth. The sweet smell of corn filled my nose. Lightning bugs made comet streaks as I wizzed by at 60 mph, occasionally leaving a glow-green splat on the windshield. I was, for a while at least, perfectly content.
That’s not true. I am pretty content much of the time.