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No, he will never measure up to any of his predecessors, not even the worst of them.
I wish to assure my friends in other nations that I am completely ashamed of that pile of crap some people call the POTUS.
Personally, I call him #Cheetothedumbfuck, #Orangetroll, #whitehouserat, #Twitler, and numerous other names that suit him. POTUS will never suit him and I will not call him anything more than #45.
Yep, that’s right. I have no respect for the #Twitiot.
His choices for cabinet positions are beyond ridiculous. They are nothing more than payment rendered to wealthy contributors who thirst for power. Not one of them is capable of humanity, compassion, intelligence, or a will to do the right thing for the people of the US.
All they want is money and power.
#Theorangetroll managed to make us the laughingstock of the entire world.
This once proud nation, this nation, which, before he came into power, was a force for good, is now a laughingstock.
Let that sink in for a minute.
He has made us hang our heads in shame. He has taken our liberty, our freedoms, and slapped us in the face with his lack of respect for the office he holds. That hold is tenuous and with any hope will soon end.
He’s brought out an unprecedented violence in the people who follow his horrible anti-rhetoric.
The Republican party enables the obnoxious #tinyhandedtoddler. I foresee a huge change coming down the line as their constituents finally realize how badly they are being screwed by this administration.
- Are you warm yet, Donny?
Another day watching MS take its toll
The Curmudgeon won’t openly admit it but #Twitler has him scared. He’s terrified of losing our only income, the cost of his care going through the roof, and so much more.
It’s not like we don’t already have enough to worry about.
Sigh.
The Curmudgeon’s shirt today
Sometimes it only takes one little thing…
Yes, one tiny thing can do it.
One thing can send me off in a torrent of tears.
Usually it is a sweet memory of one of our dogs. Nine of them were our family over the years. Number ten, Lucy, is still with us making more memories. We didn’t have kids.
Other times it’s a Mom or Dad memory that chokes my throat and fills my eyes to overflowing. Or Grama shows up in a whiff of good baking.
The most tears fall when it’s a Mary memory. We were the closest two sisters can be.
Kay memories are bittersweet. She died when I was in my teens. At one time we were close but at the end we weren’t.
Betty memories are few and far between because she wasn’t home much after I was old enough to know her. A few tears fall in her memory.
I guess it’s age or maybe my heart is too tender.
Prices just keep going up
Darned shame our income doesn’t. And if #Twitler and his cronies get their way, we’ll be getting a lot less to live on.
With less to live on, we might have qualified for food stamps to survive, but #45 and the Repugnantcans are killing them too, along with our Medicare, Medicaid, and anything else that might keep us from becoming another pair of homeless people at the mercy of the streets.
It would be nice if I could go get a job and supplement our income but then The Curmudgeon would be left alone for 8 hours a day and he can’t be.
Online job you say? Oh sure, most of them are scams and I have neither the time nor the energy to sort through them to find a real one.
Why not do your writing? I would if I could manage to think straight and have him leave me alone for more than a minute at a time. The man never shuts his mouth. Who can concentrate?
Just for general information…
I was going to test out my new weed wacker…
It rained.
Yep, such is my life.
Wow, that was quick!
I ordered a new weed wacker the day mine died (the 17th) because I was in no shape to go shopping for one at a store. My back is a mess these days.
My new 10 amp electric weed wacker arrived yesterday (the 19th). The Curmudgeon helped me put it together…he held it while I put the parts on it.
I’ll test drive it later today providing it stays rain free.
Dang it!
Five minutes into clearing the tall grasses and weeds on the pond bump in the yard and my battery powered weed wacker went dead. Completely, totally DEAD. I switched batteries and it was still dead.
I ordered a corded one that will arrive on Friday. No more batteries dying on me and no heavy gas trimmer to lug around.
Now if only my aching back and the weather will cooperate I should have everything trimmed by Sunday for sure. And it will look like this:
I managed to plant the petunias in the rocking chair pot.
Hardware…
Lucy has completely recovered from her ordeal with the kitchen drawer.
I had to order new hardware because none of the big box stores had what I needed. The handles had to measure 3.5 inches from screw to screw. They had everything but. We settled on this. We needed 30.
Time to buy new hardware for the kitchen cabinets…
I had Lucy out for a bit, came in, sent her ahead of me while I got garbage together on the back porch.
A loud crashing, skittering, and banging came from the kitchen.
I ran to the half door in time to see Lucy ducking and crashing into things while dragging a kitchen drawer along attached to her collar by the drawer pull.
I have ALWAYS hated these pulls.
The edges stick out, are sharp, and catch on everything!
Hate them.
Going to replace them with something like this:
On this Mother’s day
I ask you to forgive me for not being able to have you here with us for the last few summers you were alive. Believe me when I say we really did miss having you here.
Problem was, things got awful hectic, what with The Curmudgeon’s health getting worse and his mother taking a lot of my time and energy.
And every time you visited you landed in the hospital because it’s PA and, well, …allergies. I didn’t have the energy to deal with it on top of all the rest.
I stressed out so badly the last time you were here and landed in the hospital, that someone dear to both of us suggested to me that for my health and sanity I needed to say no.
But I kept calling you, I did…no one would let me talk to you.
I love you Mom. 7/31/1915-1/1/2007
She’s so sweet
And so naughty too.
I bought a lovely canvas shopping bag to take to the farmers market and various other stores.
Lucy decided it was a toy and I caught her just as she was starting to chew on the purse flap. So glad she ignored the leather handles.
I do believe that was first time I’ve yelled at her since she arrived.
If they only knew…
For caregivers everywhere:
If the people we take care of only knew half of what goes through our minds, they might be less demanding.
Isn’t it enough that I do everything around here?
Do NOT make me feel like a slave by ordering me to do things. Do not make unreasonable demands.
Remember kindness begets kindness.
If I cook you food, eat the damned food without complaining because you could be consigned to a nursing home where the food is not as tasty as what I cook.
You can easily say please and thank you without damaging your fragile ego.
Ordering me about just makes me visualize things you’d rather not know.
Gas lighting me doesn’t work either.
I do NOT lift your dead weight these days since you completely destroyed my back.
If you fall down because you stupidly insist you can walk without a walker or cane, then you can expect me to call for help to get you up. I refuse to damage myself more just to let you hang on to your freaking pride.
Doggonedmysteries 