“This isn’t a place a person ought to work if they don’t have options.” A colleague said that to me during a particularly fractious and professionally precarious time at the anti-poverty agency where we both worked. I quit when my ethics ran up against reality. But then I had options. Apparently, Republican Senators never got this tip.
The competence of the House impeachment managers makes me proud to be a Democrat. And not just Adam Schiff, but mostly Adam Schiff. Where are the Republicans who used to be smart like that, who were irritating because they were smart and could mount good arguments? They all died and lie now in unmarked graves.
Howard had Swedish meatballs for dinner. When I saw them on the menu, I envisioned those little tiny meatballs that you eat with toothpicks. When his order came, it was a bowl of gravy with six giant meatballs and a mount of cheesy potatoes in the middle served with a spoon. Our first night in Duluth, eating gravy with a spoon, what could be better?
What is the deal with roadside giants? What is so fascinating about large improbable things that an otherwise sensible person would feel compelled to take a picture of a large mouse in a cowboy outfit? No sign, no business, but there was a bench at the giant cowboy mouse’s feet.
Our dogs are not with us. We spent the whole day driving ‘feeling’ them in the backseat, but, alas, sled dogs can’t come to a sled dog race. First, it might make them wistful for the old days, make them think they coulda been contenders. But second, the John Beargrease Sled Dog Race people don’t allow it. So they’re staying at the kennel, a first for their little wild selves.