The flag was still there

We are coming up on the 4th of July, AND it's the 250th anniversary of our democratic republic.  Everyone and their brother has flags on their houses to celebrate.  

We have a Pride sign stuck in the ground in the front for all our conservative neighbors to see as they drive by.  We also put our flag out.  We don't want the jerks to think this country only belongs to the haters.

We mowed and edged the front yard on Monday morning.  Then there was a thunderstorm in early afternoon.  Tom went out in early evening and when he came back he told me the flag was gone.  The flag attaches to a metal pole that fits into a second metal pole that sticks into a gizmo onto the front of the house.  The flag and the first pole were gone.  The second pole was still in the gizmo.  Tom assumed the winds had blown the flag away, but there was no sign of it throughout the neighborhood.  We looked.

Because I am both imaginative and paranoid, I was sure someone stole our flag.  I yanked the second pole out of the gizmo, brought it inside and put it next to the bed.  We've been rewatching Game of Thrones.  Arya is my hero, so I was imagining how I might use some of her moves to stop the intruders who I was sure would come back to finish us off.  I thought I might hold it high with both hands and then jam it through their eye.  

Today Tom went to the store.  When he parked and was getting out of the car he looked up and saw that damn flag up on the roof!  He got the ladder and brought it down.  It is now reinstalled out front.  

I hate it when he's right and I'm wrong.  And now I have nothing next to my bed to defend us against intruders.  

Funny names

In the course of my frenetic genealogical research, I often come across funny old names.  The other day I came across a man named Preserved Fish, who was born in 1679 in Rhode Island.  It gave me pause.  

His mother's name was Grizigan Strange.

Turns out Preserved's family were some of the original settlers in Portsmouth, RI, and there are about 10 people in his line named Preserved Fish.  One is famous enough to be in Wikipedia. It says this other Preserved (b. 1766) "was an American businessman who was a prominent New York City shipping merchant in the early 19th century."

The name "Preserved" was pronounced Pre Zer Ved - three syllables, and it means preserved from sin.  

Today I came across a man named Fearnot.  His brother was named Return. I love this stuff!  

a tree of life quilt I made a long time ago for my husband

How am I doing?

Robbie from Tone Deaf recently asked how I was doing amidst the current U.S. regime? I'm tired of the meanness, and anxious about the future. 

It seems like nearly every day some bizarre order comes from above and changes something that makes things worse. I believe there is a "plan" that is moving forward like a construction roller to destroy this Democratic Republic. The plan is driven by wealth and greed not just inside the U.S., but from all corners of the globe. Women, people of color, LBGTQ people, the poor, and immigrants are under siege and losing freedoms. It will continue to get worse if not stopped by the Congressional elections in November. One wonders if there will even BE elections in November.

Our educational system has failed us, and the country is filled with ignorant sheep who gleefully admire tyranny. Hatred is the Mode au jour. Criminals rule.  

Our buffoonish leader "Pure Evil" spends our tax dollars on gauche vanity projects. He destroys and cheapens the sacred spaces of our government, wants to build massive gold encrusted monstrosities. He tries to "brand" our buildings and our currency with his hateful name. It's almost funny. If it was a movie I would laugh out loud. But this, my friends, is real life. 

Still I hold out hope. Remarkably, the Pope is currently more popular in the U.S.A. than that ruler of ours I like to refer to as "Pure Evil." I call him that because I am afraid to write his name. That's how bad things are.

Thinking about mathematics

I have so much time to think in my dotage. The thoughts I have delight me because one thing leads to another. Old memories are more fresh in my mind than what I had for dinner last night. Surely remembering is the best aspect of aging?  

Here's a thought: I wish I had taken more math in school.  I spent most of my work life using math for accounting and budgeting.  Not because that work was my heart's desire, but because it came my way and I was good at it.  Plus, it was fun. Consequently, I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide.  However, I never quite learned to think mathematically.  If I could go back in time, I would have paid more attention to those math story problems that seemed so boring.  I think I was just lazy.  

Here are two pictures of a pair of painted buntings visiting our feeder.  

I was texting with an old friend the other day. She and her husband have a number of ailments worthy of complaint, but that's not her style. Oh we did complain; yes, we did. But not about physical ailments. I'm the one who goes for the gold when complaining about aches and pains, not her.

We talked about our practical fears of dying before our spouse, how would they manage? And what if they die first, how will we manage? Order the largest garbage bin to our driveway and start chucking the precious junk in? Sell the house, move to a retirement community? Preferably one without a lawn to mow and an on-site handy person to fix things. Could it be community of oldsters filled with old women who want to drink pink cocktails and laugh? That would do. Yes, probably that's what I would choose if such a life exists. 

But what would he do? I'm afraid he's not as adaptable as I am. I don't want him to be sad and alone. We didn't speak of how sad and lonely we would be if we lost them. That's intensely private and we simply couldn't go there. Not yet.

Then there is all our "stuff." For the most part, younger people don't really want old things. They may as they age, but then it will be too late. Truthfully, I care less and less about my things. My family can sell everything, make some money, live their lives.  It is the things they will do that matter, not the things they have.  

We ended our long texting with vows to throw things away.  I filled one garbage bag with superfluous junk and then had a house dust related allergy attack and stopped.  

Some photos with happier subject matter: