It should come as no surprise that I’m no fan of the current president. Far from it. But who I am in love with is sweet little Georgia and her sister, Emma. Yes, these three entities are at opposite ends of the spectrum, but I’ll take those two darlings over the Tweeter any time.
November 6, 2017
Ellen/Reid: So Trump has been in our official lives for a couple of days short of a full year. The only thing he really is, is a few bricks – maybe a lot – short of a full load. He’s been nothing short of horrific in so many ways. I don’t mean to harp on it, but regardless of what his base says, regardless of his NRA and evangelical support says, he’s still a serial lying-cheating-mean spirited (I’m mean-spirited, too on this issue), Russia-colluding, environmental dismemberment, Presidential debasing, twerp. Your dad is no paragon of virtue but Trump is the Gold Standard for a lot of things wrong with politics and the short sightedness of the American populace.
But enough on Melania’s husband. I’m really excited about Thanksgiving up in the Twin Cities. Ellen, I want to get the girl’s Christmas presents while I’m up there, and I can’t remember (that’s one thing I wish I had, Trump’s now-famous non-Russia situational memory) what it was you mentioned that they wanted, other than accessories for Emma’s American girl doll.
Georgia is only two but already she has her mother’s sense of style. Thanksgiving up in St. Paul with ‘G’, Emma, Ellen and Tim can’t come soon enough.
What should dear little Georgia get? Some guidance is really needed. And for Tim, too, and on your end, Reid, for Liz. Please toss your dad a bone on this.
Things are back to relative normalcy now. The ankle is 100 percent and my sleep habits are back to par, which means I wake up in the middle of the night without jet lag provocation to blame.
I picked up a writing gig courtesy of an old friend, Ray, in California and it’s been fun to put pen to paper on that. He and his wife have a very successful real estate biz and he’s been nice enough to follow the letters from afar. So he called and I accepted the assignment. It keeps me off the streets and out of trouble for the most part.
In an hour I’ll meet my friend Lynn on the driving range to tune up our sorry golf swings and then he and I will walk nine holes over at a muny. I’ve been invited to play in an event this weekend and my game could use the improvement so as not to embarrass myself or let my host down. We’ll play at a truly nice track up in Denver, North Carolina. It’s on the outskirts of Charlotte but still a smooth hour away by car. The others in our group, including two gay women, at really good sticks so we should have a shot at the title.
The frozen octopus is in the freezer waiting to bust out as pulpo. I will give that a shot sometime this week. As for the return trip to the Iberian peninsula, I’m hopeful the Portuguese trek will be in stone before much longer. It gives me something to look forward to and plan towards. The route is somewhat shorter, not quite 400 miles, I believe so it shouldn’t be as harsh on my ankle. It still winds up in Santiago, Spain. I mentioned this formative plan in passing to friends this weekend and they’re on board to meet in Paris once the hike is wrapped up.
Reid, I am so, so excited about the things you’re up to. You are making a go of it in a good way. The contractor project brings in nice money although your mom and I are perturbed at the firm that keeps dangling a full time job in front of you but never seems to follow through. Perhaps it is that as a start up they are up to their eyeballs and see you as frosting on the cake. Hopefully they will get to you sooner than later. The assumption is they wouldn’t string you along unless they had some relatively solid plans for you in their future. I’ll call you for an update later this week, but give us a jingle if/when some good news breaks.
The box of arborio rice is sitting next to the cook top so there’s risotto in my immediate future. Might even roast some brussel sprouts to go with it. Oh, Miss Emma and me will head to Charleston tomorrow to fish. Can’t wait. I’m letting you know so there’s no more ‘Dad-is-missing’ hullabaloo.