The morning light

chair
Dining room table awaits biscuits or croissants.

DEPENDING ON THE season or the dawn hour I stumble out of bed, I am greeted with great scenes upstairs and down as I start the day. I enjoy this.

Life is gradually opening in the Plague Year. I declared it mostly over — for me at least. My child bride is less certain — on May 10, and started going places like in the pre-Plague times. We’ll be eating Japanese this afternoon, which has become a new Thursday tradition. That restaurant is only open Thursday through Sunday, and Sunday is reserved for another establishment directly downtown. It’s called Meraki, open just Saturday and Sunday for now and with a trimmed-down menu. It faces the Basilica.

Next week we’ll be driving to the nearby state capital not only for groceries but to visit a bank due to a mystery account and Home Depot to buy ceiling lights for the Downtown Casita and my child bride’s pastry kitchen, things we’ve been putting off.

We’ll eat in a restaurant there too, which we’ve not done since early March.

Since May 10, I’ve visited Auto Zone and a pastry shop on the downtown plaza various times, and I have not died. Neither have the Japanese joint nor Meraki killed us.

Why, we’re even going to the dentist soon for overdue cleanings. I’ve found a new place here in town that comes highly recommended. Gotta tend to the pearly whites.

Must tend too to the physique. Weekday mornings, before First Breakfast, is when I do my limited routine on the gym set. It keeps me on my toes, in a manner of speaking.

Speaking of exercise, it’s time to head out for my morning walk. Nos vemos.

gym
The gym set awaits me weekday mornings upstairs.

How far we’ve fallen

covid

THE MORE THIS Kung Flu hysteria drags on, the nuttier it shows itself to be.

But the lunacy has roots far from China.

Western Civilization started coming unraveled a few decades back. It began with the Hippie phenomenon in the 1960s, but it really kicked into gear with the birth of political correctness in the 1980s and its ensuing growth rate which looks a lot like pancreatic cancer’s.

I blame Karl Marx. And ignorance.

It’s difficult to see light between PC and leftism because they are so closely connected. It’s like trying to see light between Vice President Mike Pence and his wife, Karen. Or between Michael Moore and a double-patty cheeseburger with curly fries.

Those of us of advanced age are fortunate. We’re probably going to check out before the entire shebang falls on our heads. And the Visigoths storm the gates. That is my hope.

The bone corner

corner

SITTING IN THE living room on the scarlet sofa thinking about life.

Looking across the room at the bone corner.

No gainful employment, no money concerns, no health worries, just creaky, that’s all. My own bones. It could be worse, far worse. Sunday morning, and I already did some gardening, trimming the bothersome bougainvilleas, cut a few branches from the neighbors’ fruit trees that are hanging over to my side. Lousy, surly neighbors.

We’re doing more stuff away from home these days, weary of this Kung Flu hullabaloo. Tomorrow I’m taking the Honda to the garage for an overdue servicing, plus replacing the water pump and the AC Freon. This afternoon we’ll be lunching at a restaurant downtown that’s been closed for weeks but now is open weekends, just weekends. Gonna eat Sloppy Joes and French fries. I love anything you can dip in ketchup.

I crave raw oysters dumped into a cup of ketchup and horseradish. Problem is that there are no raw oysters on the mountaintop, and I wouldn’t eat them anyway, not anymore. Too much pollution. Plus, you need Dixie Beer with raw oysters to do it right.

Sitting on a stool in the dim, air-conditioned bar at Schwegmann’s supermarket on Airline Highway in Metairie, Louisiana, while the summer sun buckles the street tar outside would be the ideal setting, but those days are gone. For me, at least.

Made some rounds around downtown yesterday afternoon, hunting biscuits. Went to my usual place on the big plaza. No biscuits. Drove to another pastry shop, a newish one near the Downtown Casita. No biscuits. Drove back near the plaza to yet another pastry shop on Romero Street, and bingo! Biscuits. I bought six. Whole wheat.

Biscuits are the Staff of First Breakfast at the Hacienda. Costco sells biscuits too, but they are ponderous with butter, and I don’t like that.

Sloppy Joes, French fries, raw oysters and biscuits. Three out of four ain’t bad.

Great Trump news

THE NEW YORK TIMES and its disreputable cohort The Washington Post, which once were great newspapers, now publish slanted or outright fake news about President Trump on a daily basis due to their Woke, politically correct, transgendered and intersectional staffs, so let’s look elsewhere for honest reporting and opinion.

  1. Let’s start with the New York Post and a piece titled, “No, ObamaGate is not a conspiracy theory.” The Obama White House conspired against the incoming Trump administration in what, one prays, are indictable offenses against both Obama and Sleepy Joe too. Stay tuned. Investigations are thundering down the highway.
  2. Trump on Friday named a team to “develop a coronavirus vaccine at warp speed.” See the details at Politico’s website. The news was announced Friday at a White House news conference.
  3. Nancy Pelosi, she of the dark heart, set a House vote yesterday on more coronavirus “relief” legislation. The $3 trillion (!) legislative package was written entirely by Democrats and, yet again, is crammed with pork that has squat to do with the current crisis. Again, the New York Post has this information that you will not find in the corrupt, gray, old ladies of “journalism” I mentioned in the first paragraph. And during the vote on the pork bill, Democrats opted to make illegal aliens eligible for taxpayer-funded “stimulus” payments. Dear Lord. More details here.
  4. Trump unveiled the new Space Force flag in the White House yesterday. The Space Force will be a sixth branch of the U.S. military. MAGA marches on.