Under a Greyhound bus

I’ve had the Allman Brothers’ “Ramblin' Man” in my head since Wednesday morning, when I caught the gist of the Kleptocrat’s performance at the State of the Union address Tuesday night.

Not physical “rambling”, as the Allmans intended, but mental and cognitive wandering. Which the increasingly decrepit old racist exhibited throughout, drinking in the adulation of all the Rs in the House chamber.

As Atlanta Journal-Constitution cartoonist Mike Luckovich captured so well:

So—without further ado, the Allman Brothers.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Aux barricades!

Okay—one final blizzard-related photo. Seems that the small miscreants in my neighborhood began a snow fort on the pathways in the center common.

(I’d watched my very small neighbors—probably 2 and 3 years old—with their sand pails and shovels on Tuesday; I hadn’t realized the possibilities that the pails presented for defensive works.)

Bravo, mes amis! Bravo!

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Tempus fugit

Okay—one more blizzard-related photo, this slightly bedraggled snowman:

He probably has maybe another 18 hours to live.

 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Aftermath

We here in the District They Call Columbia had just got to the point where you could see more ground than snowcrete by the end of last week. Then, on Sunday we got another dump of snow.

Fortunately, where I am it’s maybe an inch or two, and it’s going to melt pretty quickly, if the Lord blesses us with above-freezing temperatures.

Meanwhile—it has its pretty points.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

 

Gratitude Monday: Saved by the bowl

I decided yesterday to make tarts for a snow day project. So I hauled out my Cuisinart to handle the pastry. (You used to be able to use “Cuisinart” to mean “any food processor”, because—back in the last century—pretty much any food processor was a Cuisinart.)

I discovered that a piece had broken off the bowl, and it turned out that that piece was what fastened the top to the bowl. A food processor won’t work if the lid isn’t locked.

I was able to get the blade to turn by manually pushing down on the top, so I was able to kludge the pastry, but I started grumbling because now I’d have to buy a new bowl, and since this particular machine dates from probably the 80s, there probably aren’t any loose bowls out in the wild so I’m going to have to buy a whole new food processor even though the motor for this one works just fine and I do not need that kind of aggravation…

But as I walked over to the computer to start that process, I looked at the shelf above my washer and dryer, where I keep a couple of excess things, and—looky what I found:

(At one time, probably in the 90s, I bought a spare bowl and lid. The lid since broke. But I kept the bowl.)

Yeah, it’s petty, but that’s my gratitude for today.

 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu