In for nasty weather

I still have not figured out why Cadet Bonespurs’ campaign team has chosen to bracket his super-spreader Nazi rallies with two songs you’d think they’d want to steer clear of. Do his goobers not understand the subtext of The Village People’s “YMCA” or John Fogerty’s “Fortunate Son”?

Actually—it’s not even subtext. “It’s fun to stay at the YMCA” against a driving beat? “I ain’t no Senator’s son”? I mean, we’re practically at the sock puppet level.

Well, I’m not giving either of those to you for my Friday earworm today. Instead, we’ll have Fogerty’s “Bad Moon Rising”. Because it certainly feels like that.

Convenience food

Oh, dear—Trader Joe’s has bake-yourself croissants. You pull one out of the freezer, let it proof overnight and bake in the morning.

Start/finish:

Just before baking (it puffs up a little more in the oven): 

They come in chocolate and almond (currently, the People’s Republic store is out of the latter). They also have mini-croissants, which you pop straight into the oven from the freezer. 

They’re actually very, very good.

With my new freezer, I can really stock up.

Oh, dear.

 

 

White goods

 I’m not sure it’s the pandemic, but…

Yeah, it’s the pandemic. Starting in May, what with all the baking I’ve been doing, along with what a pain grocery shopping has become, I started looking for a real freezer to replace the 3 cubic foot one I’ve been using for the past two years.

Turns out that all of America was also looking for freezers, and there were none to be had. (Remember—factories shut down?) Finally, after two months of calling a local appliance shop every couple of weeks, I ordered a 17 cubic foot upright, paid my money and got put on The List.

It came in two weeks ago, and last Friday it was finally delivered.

 

(Back around April, I was chatting with a friend about all the baking I was doing, and how I had no place to put it all. She made me promise to call her before I bought a chest freezer. Well, in fairness, this is not a chest freezer, so when I sent her these pix she called me a survivalist. Whatevs.)

It’s excessive, I know, but I feel so much more secure now that I have frozen Lebensraum. This week I’m going to Costco to stock up on butter, crab cakes and pot pies. I’m also getting electricians in to split my single kitchen circuit into two. I’ve already blown the one a couple of times (microwave, mini-freezer, toaster oven, refrigerator, wine fridge all drawing juice when I turned on the George Foreman Grill; didn’t even have the dishwasher running), and I do not fancy the prospect of 17 cubic feet of crab cakes and butter going bad.

What can I say: 2020, man.

 

 

 

Wanted?

 The very instant I saw “You wanted this” on this envelope, I knew I didn’t.

 

I was right.

 

 

Gratitude Monday: Righteous one

It is somewhat difficult today to haul up gratitude, given not only the loss of Ruth Bader Ginsburg as an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court, but also the probability that the Kleptocrat and his Repugnant senatorial lackeys will jam through the confirmation of some Kavanagh-level troglodyte ideologue to replace her. 

I mean—I have no words to express my sadness, fear and rage.

So what I’ll focus on Ginsburg’s grace and courage, her meticulous arguments as an attorney and her sharp questioning of lawyers as a Justice. Her 27 years on the Court were preceded by an impressive career as an advocate against gender discrimination. So many people—women and men alike—owe her a debt of gratitude for the work she did for decades. She personified the term “public service”.

As far as I’m concerned, she is indeed a Tzadik, and her memory is a blessing.