I Am Okay

Still blue. Not desperately so. Not the kind where there is no hope, no memory of things not being hopeless. That does happen and that is the worst sort of black dog depression where there is no hope, no meaning, no purpose, no reason to get out of bed except that it must be done and the act of getting up is an act of huge achievement. 

It hasn't been like that although I did stay in bed a long time this morning. Why not? 

Glen left around four, I think. He kissed me good-bye, told me he loved me. I told him I loved him and to be safe, be safe, be safe. He is safe in Nashville now. Tomorrow the flight to Canada and I hope it's an easy, smooth one. 

Jessie and her family are in Santa Rosa Beach, along with some friends of theirs. An old friend of Vergil's has a house in Santa Rosa. and he has invited them to use the house. This is their second trip there. It's not right on the beach, but close, and there's a pool at the house and it's an easy walk to the water. Santa Rosa is a gorgeous pure-white sand beach on the Gulf (of Mexico) and there is plenty to do, and even more in the nearby Panama City Beach which used to be fondly called The Redneck Riviera and may still be for all I know. Our family used to take weekend trips there and at that time, you could still find funky old places to stay right on the beach for not a lot of money. One place we stayed had been built of lumber brought in by sea as there were no overland direct routes. I will always remember that place fondly. It smelled of old wood and mildew and ocean air and ancient curtains. I am sure it's gone now, a giant condo probably now in its place. 
It was a complete tourist town and in case the beautiful beaches and local seafood weren't enough for your visiting pleasure, there was the Miracle Strip Amusement Park. 

And the most amazing goofy golf course. 

Let us not forget the Treasure Ship Restaurant. 

So much to see and do. 

We visited quite frequently in winter though, and almost everything was shut up. Even the McDonald's closed. We carried on. I think one of Hank and May's favorite things was the diner where we ate breakfast where they could get a heart-shaped waffle with whipped cream and strawberries on it. Instead of going to amusement parks, we played on the beach and got in the water if it was warm enough and of course, fishing was involved. 

One of the things we never did was to visit the Man in the Sea museum which documents the history of men in the sea, and how they managed to get down there and survive there. But the Weatherfords took a side trip to visit the museum today. Here are some pictures we got. 

The mermaid does not look that impressed, does she?

I especially love that last one where you can see Levon's Crocs underneath the diving suit as he stands on a step ladder. 

It's good to know that PC hasn't lost it's funky charm entirely. 

I could go on for days about the gentrification of that whole strip of the Florida coastline but what's the point? We all know that story. 

So that was the cheerful thing that happened today, knowing that fun was being had. I worked outside for a short time until suddenly the rain was pouring down. I thought about just working through it but then it got a little drenchy and I came back inside. I played some piano very, very badly, I did some work on the jigsaw puzzle. 
I let this day go by as it would. 

I've been thinking about things that are not pleasant. RFK, Jr. has been foremost in those thoughts, I think. We really have come to this. I remember before the election and I was talking to Dr. Zorn about the horrible prospect of Trump being president again. 
"Just wait until RFK, Jr. is the Secretary of Health and Human Resources," he said. The thought had never crossed my mind. 
Haha! 

There's one very, very small positive possibility which has occurred to me recently. We all know that Trump's health is not good. We've seen the pictures, we've seen and heard the videos. Now we all know that Trump is only the puppet the puppet masters are using to forward their agenda. The men who authored the 2025 project. And of course, Vladimir Putin. But if Trump should die and JD Vance become president, I honestly believe many of the diehards in the Trump cult will lose interest in supporting what's going on. Especially the things that will affect them, which already ARE affecting them. Trump is their bully-hero. Their big, tall strongman daddy. The figurehead who allows and encourages their racist, misogynist, anti-science (which they do not understand at all), anti-woke (which they couldn't define with a dictionary in their laps), anti-queer, anti-trans, anti-education, anti-arts, anti-human rights, anti-everything-that-represents-civilization will be replaced by a guy who appears to be more bot than human, who has the charisma of a bucket of manure without the usefulness, and I just don't think he's going to have what it takes to keep the faithful engaged. And I also think it's possible that whatever hold Trump has on the Republican lawmakers will be loosened if he's gone and some of them will actually look in the mirror and wonder why the hell they've sold out the Constitution not to mention their very souls.
This is my hope. But I could be wrong. 

I frequently am because as we all know by now, I don't know shit. 

I am grateful for the rain. 

Love...Ms. Moon