I had my monthly lunch/bitch session with my friend Kathy
yesterday. Things are so scary, watching Trump systematically destroy
everything Obama did in the past 8 years and feeling so helpless to do
anything.
It seems we no longer live in a country which supports free
speech, since the EPA has been given a gag order not to write on social
media or give interviews about anything that is happening with that
department (including information on climate change). But there are
work-arounds and anonymous people from the EPA have set up information
Twitter accounts on personal computers, so until the new administration
decides to have certain accounts banned from Twitter, we can still find out
what is going on.
I have tried many times to get into Twitter, unsuccessfully.
I even took a class once trying to find out how to make heads or tails of
it, but so much seems to be originating on Twitter these days and my new
phone makes it easier to check that bit of social media and I'll tell ya
watching our new president tweeting, especially on this business of the
millions of illegals who voted and cost him the popular vote (no
supporting information) it's like watching a toddler standing there stomping
his foot and shrieking.
This whole insistence that, evidence to the contrary, he had
"the largest viewing audience in the history of inaugurations" and that,
evidence to the contrary, up to 3-5 million cases of voter fraud, which
robbed him of the popular vote. (Research has found only four episodes
of voter fraud and one was a woman who voted twice...both times for Trump.)
He has to be the biggest, the best, the highest, etc. I heard this
morning that he is ordering a "major investigation" of the illegal votes.
How much is THAT going to cost the tax payers, for essentially nothing but
to feed his ego?
I think it was when he signed the go-ahead with the pipeline
that he introduced it by saying that he was a great lover of the environment
and had received many awards for environmental action. This
self-aggrandizement is disgusting and unbecoming the head of our nation and
a terrible thing to show people in other countries.
However, in other news, while I was sitting at lunch with
Char on Monday, I was rubbing my arm through my long-sleeved shirt because
it itched and there was a lump. I pulled back the sleeve and saw this.
It's a nearly cured scar from when I set my arm on fire.
At the time, there was no sign of any burn on my arm and I never thought
about checking it the next day, but apparently I should have. But it's
almost back to normal now. I will remember to check for signs of injury the
next day, the next time I set myself on fire.
After lunch, I went to Atria. I had been there the day
before, but my mother had been sleeping. I sat there for an hour,
reading, waiting to see if she would wake up, but she never did. I had
bought a bunch of junk food for her, since she hasn't had any food in her
apartment in awhile, and I left her clean laundry on the bed. I also
wrote a note for her, that I left on her chair and then came home.
She was awake when I got there yesterday, but lying on the
couch. The note I left for her was still sitting on her chair, so she
had not sat in that chair at all yesterday. I somehow feel that she
saw the note and thought someone had put it there and she was not supposed
to remove it and just sat on the couch instead.
She got up and sat in her chair, reading my note several
times, each time asking me if I had written it. Then she'd put it down
next to her and then see it again, as if for the first time, and read it
again. She is having difficulty recognizing words now and so she reads
slowly and has to sound out many simple words.
The other thing she spent time doing is looking at a photo
of her 90th birthday party.
This framed picture sits on the floor next to her chair and
from time to time she pulls it out to look at it and ask what it is.
It is a picture of all the people who came to her 90th birthday party and
any of them signed the border of the frame into which we were going to put
the group photo. She looks at the photo and doesn't recognize anybody.
Yesterday I found the book I made for her after the party and showed it to
her, reminding her about what fun she had at the party and how many people
came to celebrate with her. She doesn't even recognize me in the
photos and doesn't always recognize herself.
But even with how depressing it is to leave her at the end
of a visit, it's still not as depressing as coming home and watching the
news this week.
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