No doubt you have all had a nice weekend while I have endured a less than gratifying one here at chirpy, cheery Blue Skye. Good manners preclude me from sharing with you the highlights of the last few days, for while my guests can and do review me with gay abandon all over the internet and beyond, I cannot respond. Suffice to say that smoke alarms were involved along with a very cross woman wearing earphones and bunny slippers who berated your blogette at 7 this morning. Now I don't know about you, but I prefer to have a cup of coffee before being berated. In any case, you may want to revise your daydream of running a B&B in beautiful coastal Maine.
Have you done your debate prep? Are you ready to shout at the television on Tuesday? All you Romney supporters can just oil your hair and slap on the aftershave and you're ready to go, whereas we have to urge our reluctant candidate to show up and stay awake. Like Burgess Meredith in Rocky, we have to
slap his face and throw some water on him after a few minutes. Come on Barack, you can do it. Come on, bop him on the nose JUST ONCE. Do it for the dog on the car roof. Better yet, send in Michelle. Now THAT would be a debate worth watching for an electorate used to dancing with the stars and singing with the idols. That the spectacle has little or nothing to do with defining who can lead the American people intelligently, with integrity and a vision worthy of this country, is overlooked. But. I'll be there nonetheless hoping that when Romney pulls out his ACLU card, Obama will do a Seinfeld "Really?"
Monday, October 1, 2012
Everywhere you look here you see geese soaring back and forth across the marsh, quacking ducks sound like they are laughing their heads off, flocks of birds rattle the leaves and chipmunks tear back and forth across the lawns with their cheeks stuffed with whatever it is chipmunks stuff their cheeks with. Soon we'll be splitting wood, putting away the flower pots and piling up the pumpkins. I adore autumn. Yesterday we had two rainbows over the hayfield - I mean, come on! How can you not love that?? All this poetic, autumn is so sad baloney is written by people who have never been to my house in autumn or who don't take my brand of anti-depressants - but that's another story. As I write, two guests linger over the breakfast table and I linger over a final cup of coffee, trying not to see the looming mountain of ironing which covers my exercise bike.