Tuesday's Song

A friend sings this song in the car in the morning as she leaves home:

I have something in my pocket
That belongs across my face.
I keep it very close to me
In a most convenient place.
 
I bet you'll never guess it
If you guessed a long, long while.
So, I'll take it out and put it on;
It's a great big Brownie smile!

Look to the Helpers

I won't say I'm used to bad news-- but certainly the headlines lately leave little room for optimism-- the president is off the rails,  Hollywood too, and fires and floods, mean-ness and murders in Las Vegas, injustice, misogyny, bigotry, racism,the future of the planet, the Cubs last night.

Then there was this on the local radio: "Two young Haines residents are facing felony drug charges after a package containing a significant amount of heroin was allegedly intercepted on its way to the local post office."

It breaks my heart.

Monday, Monday...

I've been whistling "Monday, Monday, la laaa, la la la laaa..." --  Because, as the poet Billy Collins says-- in his poem Monday,  " the birds are in their trees, the toast is in the toaster and the poets are at their windows "-- and this writer is at her desk by the window. It's a little messy, there is a puppy chewing on a laptop cord, and an older dog sighing and farting on the dog bed, and yes, as the poet would say, there is some tea involved, and a window. Three actually.  

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