I’m not pregnant! The bad news is, I’m still Covid Positive! The nurse said I’d feel a whole lot worser if I wasn’t vaxxed to the max—I ain’t so sure! But, I’m getting better. Honest. Trust me. See January 10, 2022 blog, https://coffeebreakescapes.com/and-the-good-news-is/ for earlier report.
In the meantime, the Brave Dog thinks he’s in puppy heaven with all the naps he’s getting with me 😉 Basically it feels like a moderate head cold, and I’m not hungry. I know I should eat, and I do, but not a lot. Food tastes ok, I just don’t have the energy to do much in the prep department.
89 Backpack is the Fat Bear of 2026. I was hoping for 910, but 89 Backpack won fair and square. Of course, none of the bears are weighed, we just vote for the ones who look the fattest. And the Rangers at Brooks Falls are pretty good at their educated weight guestimates. 😉
Tennessee is exercising their legal and Christian right to blood lust today (WWJD?), with the death of Christa Gail Pike. Wonder why only she got the death penalty and not her accomplices, too? The state will feel justified, but will the family and friends of the victim feel any better? I doubt it.
Had to cancel my hair appointment for tomorrow. I think I’ll cry for that one. As well as lunch with Favorite Daughter. I’ll cry for that, one, too. Probably have to cancel ophthalmologist appointment, for Monday, too. Waaaaahhhhh. This Covid is no fun.
But, at least I ain’t pregnant!!!
I love you, I appreciate you, I wish you a covid-free fall and winter and spring and summer!! And if you aren’t vaxxed, get thy arm shot. Better than full blown Covid. Honest. Trust me.
Being an Olde Fartess of a certain age, I must admit, it pains me to read about, let alone see, elder abuse, and the people who can do something about it—are silent, in fact, they are complicit. Ask Epstein’s victims how that feels.
Now, I must admit, I do not like Mitch McConnell. I can’t remember a time when I might have. I can’t remember a time when I looked at him, listened to him, I didn’t see him standing in the shade of a large plantation, while addressing his slaves, perhaps with a cat o-nine tails in his hand, applying the business end on the back of one of his slaves, perhaps because they wanted something as simple as freedom, to return home to their family in Mother Africa.
Just because I dislike him, immensely, doesn’t mean I hold with abusing him as he is currently being abused by his wife who can speak for him, or his fellow republicans who are directing him what to say (aye or nay) for a vote count.
His body is alive, he can move his index finger on the right hand, he can speak, “aye” or something that sounds more like aye than nay. He cannot, or at least does not, turn his head when anyone speaks to him. His mouth seems frozen in a grin, almost a rictus grin, not a friendly grin, not a grin of enjoyment of life, of gladness as seeing old friends, it’s the grin of someone who looks like he’s been coached to grin, so people will know he’s truly alive. Period.
Yes, he’s alive. But—is he alive? Can he understand anything? Is he cognizant of what is being said to him? Can he carry on a conversation, however limited? Can he understand a joke? Can he laugh at something funny? Can he tell a joke?
Can Bobby BrainWorm or QuackQuack Oz do anything to help Mitch? Possibly, but why would they? They’re part of the problem. Sigh. And why doesn’t Elaine Chou speak up, and tell those power hungry clowns that enough is enough, and her husband should be allowed the rest of his days at home, in peace. What a pathetic situation. And You and I pay for it.
Thank you for your patience as I got that rant out of my fingers.
I had some positive feedback from my poem last week, so thought I’d try a new one. I took a workshop last Monday, and we wrote a “Skeleton Poem.” I used to write a lot of those, years ago, when I got bored at work. Only I didn’t know they were called Skeleton Poems. In fact, my friend and I used to teach people how to write poems using the same method, except instead of 8 lines, we used 10. It was great fun to hear the poems after. And people were really surprised at what they wrote. Actually, I sold several of my Skeleton Poems. So, here are the bones of my skeleton, and the poem. If you want to try it, set a timer for 30 seconds if you’re a poet, or 45 seconds per line if you’ve not tried a poem before. Go one line at a time.
If you want to try it, I suggest you use a random set of words. Maybe consider writing 20-30 words on a piece of paper, cut them out, put them in a bowl, set your timer and pull out a word, write your line, hit your timer, pull out…. until you’ve pulled out however many you wanted. Tweak your poem and there you are. Put your words back in the bowl mix well and you’re all set to go the next time. And, if you want to share, feel free to put it in the comment section, but know that it then becomes published and if you submit it to a publisher you need to tell them.
1st line – use a season 2nd line – use currency 3rd line – place of worship 4th line – the color red 5th line – wild card (whatever you want)
6th line – something from the sea 7th line – stringed instrument
8th line – repeat line 1 or 7, exactly of paraphrase
When you have your lines finished, take 3 minutes to tweak if needed.
You can also use 10 words, or however many you want. The goal is to write and have fun.
And here is my poem from the above words. I initially wrote it double space, tweaked it a bit, and put it in couplets, then changed it to single space. I underlined the words used in the lines.
Season of Sorrows by Lenora Rain-Lee Good
Autumn, the time of long sleeps, of death save your coin for Charon, if not for now your prayer bones on the velvet kneeler red as your blood, stained by your blood bruised by your hours of devotion holding beads of shell, beads of seed, beads of wood a stringed instrument to help prayers reach your god in this time of long sleep, death, are useless. (repeat of line one, sorta)
Public Service Announcement
If you’re an Elder, don’t forget your Flu and Covid vaxes! Maybe plan a day after to do nothing. For some reason, one or the other, or both, zapped me, and I spent two hours napping the day of, and almost the whole of the next day doing the same. Makes me wonder what I’d feel like if I hadn’t gotten vaxxed and one or the other bug bit me. Having grown up in the time of polio, and spending 9 years 5 months 23 days in the Military, I’m a firm believer in getting vaxxed. Even if there might be a day after! Admittedly, the day after a vax isn’t as much fun as the day after a good night—but that’s another story for another day. /snort/
Happy Today! Have a fantastically wunnerful up-coming week. I love you. I appreciate you. You are wonderful!
Public Service Announcement:
I had a poem accepted by Casa Urraca Press for a print anthology. Believe me, I’m over the moon on this one. AND, I have two poems published in this month’s edition of Quill and Parchment for which I’m also over the moon— People of the Desert and Shadows of the Crow. Please click on the link, and scroll down, and stop and read some of the other poems on your way to mine. There are some great ones. The Two-Week Vaca That Was—Sorta 😉
Okay, it was a vacation, much enjoyed, and wonderfully productive, it just wasn’t what I’d planned on and hoped for. Those of you not familiar with Washington geography, I live in Kennewick (on the Big Bend of the Columbia River in south central/eastern Washington. Tacoma is on the Dark Side, south of Seattle, Federal Way is just north of Tacoma, the Narrows is the place Puget Sound narrows enough for two bridges to span it to the Peninsula. (Olympia is farther south, where the Sound ends.) Port Orchard, Poulsbo, Bremerton, Port Hadlock, Port Townsend and farther north up the peninsula, with Pt. T. at the NE tip. Arlington is just about straight across the Salish Sea (real name of Puget Sound) and inland a bit, ie, north of Seattle, Everett, and Marysville. I had planned on coming home from Arlington via Highway 2, then down through Wenatchee, etc. Oh, well, next time. 😉
I had planned on spending Friday evening with my Sister of the Heart, Marjorie, in Tacoma, then drive across the Narrows and spend Friday night, and Saturday night, with my ex-Boss, Bill. As we all know, life happens, and when I arrived at Marjorie’s, the house was dark, and no one home. You ever get up on a Friday but you just know it’s Thursday? Uh-huh, she was a day late and a dollar short, so to speak.
So, I spent the time with Bill, which, per usual, was great fun. We drove from Port Orchard up to Paulsbo, bought goodies at the bakery, came home, and had them for supper. Oh, evilness never tasted better!
Sunday, I drove back across the Narrows up to Federal Way, not far from where I used to live, actually, picked up my good friend, Dixie who lives in Virginia but was at her granddaughter’s, then drove back across the bridge and up to our VRBO rental in Port Hadlock (just south of Port Townsend.) A gorgeous drive, a beautiful home—but we couldn’t open the key box to get the key to get in. Of course, we also couldn’t get through to the Host and after spending a couple hours on the phone with VRBO people, they sent us to a hotel for the night. They couldn’t get the host, either. So, we drove up to Pt. T, found a hotel, with some great views
Gulls on hotel roof. The grass on roof is metal, meant to keep gulls off.
Olympic Mountains in background; they should be white. Mfg unk.
In the meantime, VRBO kept trying to contact the Host, and Monday morning succeeded, with a three-way phone call, the Host directed us to return to the house, the on-site mgr. would meet us and let us in. So back we went, and were so embarrassed when we were shown how simple it was to get in. Every lock box we’ve ever used, the bottom released, in this case, the ‘door’ pulled out and down. Oh, sigh.
The house was gorgeous, with fantastic views. When Dixie rented the house, she emphasized we had one person who could not do stairs, and was assured that person would be fine. Yeah, right. We went in on the main level of huge kitchen, dining room, living room, door out to deck, and a double set of stairs, one going down to the daylight basement, and one up to the second floor. Bathrooms were up, or down, stairs, none on the main level. Being an old Girl Scout, and a Vet, I assured Dixie that if there wasn’t an easy path and door to the daylight basement, there were lots of bushes. She was, rightly so, horrified. I, on the other hand hoped for the path, which turned out to very pleasant, and a huge slider downstairs, and a fairly comfy sofa on which to lay my weary body 😉 The bathroom was a full bathroom, though the textured floor of the walk-in shower was very slick when water, soap, and or shampoo, was on it. One shower was enough, and I bathed out of my helmet (the sink) thereafter.
This was to have been a Writer’s Retreat for 3 of us, one had unexpected defugalties and couldn’t come, so Dixie and I had our retreat and it was marvelous. She brought her project, I brought mine, and though I did no writing, other than my daily poems, we both got a great deal done. She is working on getting her late husband’s articles together for a book, and I worked on getting my late adopted brother’s poetry together for a book or maybe two. The first thing I did was put them in alphabetical order and get rid of all the duplicates and early versions. Then I broke them into categories. Now I need to go through and read each one and make a decision whether or not to put in a book (or one of the books).
We did take one day off and drive up to Pt. Townsend, where we toured Fort Worden, then walked a bit in downtown, gawking at the old buildings. We went into a fabric store—District Fabric—that was fabulous! All kinds of fabric, most on rolls, not flat bolts, and even a section where some was on hangers that was ‘gently pre-owned’. Fabrics from all over the world. OMG! It was hard to leave. I bought two pieces, one of pre-owned blue with yellow-gold hash marks, the other blacks, grays, like a hurricane rainband.
Then a kitchen gadget store, The Green Eyeshade, where they had every kitchen knick-knack known to cooking-hood. I bought a tiny spoon I use in my Szcheuan pepper sauce, from Japan with a kitty on it, and last night it dawned on me, it’s probably a caviar spoon. Well, I can afford the pepper sauce 😉
From there, we wandered down the street to All About Me, a clothing store with a sale rack of clothes outside. The colors were all wrong for me—earthtones—and some guy with a soprano sax a half block or so away decided to entertain folks. I told Dixie I was going inside and if not back in three days to call the Gendarmes. I really did not like the guy’s sax playing. Found a coat I really liked, more like a long jacket, summer weight, then saw where it had to be hand washed. It went back on the rack, and I wandered on through the store. In the back were shoes. And some were on sale. Dixie wandered back to join me, and there were two pair sized 38 and 39, red, fun, on sale. The 39 fit me, which was a surprise, most Euro sizes are too wide. Alas, Dixie could get the 38 on, but it was uncomfortable. She bought a pair of slacks, I bought a pair of shoes. Then we headed back to the house, with a stop off in a diner that was actually pretty dog gone good, then home for a glass of wine.
I probably shouldn’t admit this, but we bought a bottle of wine our first day there, the standard 750ml sized bottle, and I brought enough for two more glasses home with me. Yeah, our glasses were probably between 1-2oz. We’re pretty big drinkers, huh? I drank the last of it the next Thursday.
On the following Sunday, I was scheduled to return Dixie to her granddaughter’s and drive up to Arlington to see my adopted Little Bro and his husband. Alas a couple days prior, my BIL was admitted to the hospital, and I am delighted to say he is now home recouping, but at the time, it was deemed the better part of common sense for me to toodle on home and not see them. So, I got to see 2 of the 5 people I wanted to see. Yes, it was a loverly vacation, but I miss not seeing those I didn’t get to see. Oh, well, it just means I have an excuse to go to the Dark Side again. (It is called the Dark Side due to the fact that the clouds roll in about half past September and stay until (usually) 5 July, not really rainy, just gray, wet, gloomy—dark.
Great Blue Heron on tide flats outside our rental
Dawn at Bruce Pond (near side of spits, see heron above) Oak Bay far side, Salish Sea
Mt Tahoma (Rainier) at dawn
Susie says, Hi, to everyone. She’s very friendly.
Our rental. The upstairs windows on the left was Dixie’s room, the downstairs sliders was mine. I could go up the outside stairs, but wasn’t comfortable going down them. The house behind is used for storage.
Mt Tahoma, Guardian of the Southern Salish Sea
Best quote, possibly ever: I did that!
This is the pump at the gas station I went to in Port Hadlock. In the middle of MAGA country
All photos by Lenora Rain-Lee Good, using iPhone 17 Pro Max
Okay, the first few sentences of this post are being written on Tuesday, 2 February 2026. Those of you who are calendar savvy, know that today is Groundhog Day. Those of you who know your favorite Auntie Lenora, know today is her birthday, and she is therefore, a Groundhog.
She woke this morning a few minutes after 4am, that kind of wakefulness that said that if she rolled over to go back to sleep, it would take at least 2 hours to drop off for another hour of restless sleep. Sigh. She might as well get up and at least make the dog happy in letting him out. As she stood at the door, half past 4 in the morning, she remembered it is, in fact, her 83d anniversary of flying around old Sol, so she stepped outside in the cold and did not see her shadow, thereby bringing all of you, her favoritest people ever, an early Spring.
Yes, she knows, her Cousin Phil, of Punxsutawney fame, saw his shadow, but he’s in Pennsylvania, and doesn’t believe in getting up before sunrise. Your Auntie Lenora doesn’t believe in the latter, either, unless it’s winter when the sun doesn’t come up until after 7am. It’s been suggested that she is thereby cheating, nothing against her Cousin Phil, but just maybe it makes her smarter? But he and she do have a gentleperson’s agreement, he gets to foretell the weather east of the Rockies, and she get the west. The Rockies are on their own, she guesses.
Niener, niener, niener—I told you so!!
Just last month, I mentioned Dr. Computer, and this morning (3 Feb) on Jeff Tiedrich’s column, Everyone is Entitled to my own Opinion, he has a quote from a video of Dr. Oz. He also has the video posted.
The quote: ““there’s no question about it, whether you want it or not — the best way to help some of these communities is gonna be AI-based avatars.” Now, to be honest and transparent, our favorite Wizard Oz, did say, promise, and guarantee (say that in your best Cajun drawl—gar aaahn teeeeee) the Avatar would ONLY do the prelim part, then connect the patient to a real live, living, breathing licensed (not sure he said licensed) human doctor. Yeah. Right. With AI becoming what it’s becoming, how would you know? Anyhow, the clip is short, watch it. (No wonder Dorothy preferred leaving Oz to go back to Kansas! /snark/)
And this morning, 9 Feb 26, I came across this information from Medical Economics
“Oz claimed that if a patient went to a doctor for a diabetes diagnosis, it would be $100 per hour, while an appointment with an AI avatar would cost considerably less, at just $2 an hour. Oz also claimed that patients have rated the care they’ve received from an AI avatar as equal to or better than a human doctor. (Research suggests patients are actually more skeptical of medical advice given by AI.) Because of technologies like machine learning and AI, Oz claimed, it is now possible to scale ‘good ideas’ in an affordable and fast way.” [emphasis mine]
And now for some Happy News!
As you may remember from past posts, Thomas asked me to be his Literary Executrix. I have all his thumb drives, a delightful insight into his work, especially his memoir that he worked hard to finish while he could still type. He tried dictating but never got the hang of it (it’s harder than one may think).
He had mentioned to his good friends Phoebe and Paul owner and editors of The Raven Chronicles, that he wanted them to have first right of refusal to publish it. A minor detail he neglected to tell me, by the way. However, when I finished minor editing for clarity, I mentioned it to Phoebe when she came to my book launch, and she suggested I send it to Paul to read. That he’d know what to do with it. I sent it to Paul quite a while ago and heard nothing beyond he’d received it and would get back to me. Unbeknownst to me, Paul also worked with Phoebe, who is the Editor in Chief of Raven Chronicles, where Thomas also worked as an editor. I knew they were friends, and that Paul wrote stories and novels, but not that he worked with Phoebe.
All of that is to get us to this week when I had a Zoom meeting with Phoebe and Paul, and they have accepted Thomas’s manuscript, plus some other writings of Thomas’s, and will publish it sometime in 2027. It was during that meeting I found out he’d told Phoebe a long time ago that he wanted her to have first right of refusal. I’m so glad that I mentioned his manuscript when she came to my book launch! Although, to be honest, I probably would have asked her advice on it anyhow.
Be safe, be well, be happy!
“Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ” We are all related ~ Lakota Saying.
Well, this is embarrassing. I wrote a post on the first (see below) and tried to post it, and something was amiss, so I contacted my webmistress, and she got it fixed and let me know a couple days ago all was well, and I forgot to go in and post it. So, now it’s a double post.
Except this one will be extra short 😉
And I wish you all a bang-up marvelous 2026. May goodness outweigh badness to the nth degree this new year!
1 January 2026
2025 is now in our rear-view mirror! And you know what I’m thankful for? Groundhog Day, the movie, is pure fiction. Lordy, lordy, but I hate even the shivery thought of having to repeat 2025. Ever.
True, there were some good things that happened, most notable being that Saying Goodbye to Thomas (Finishing Line Press) is now published and available at your favorite bookstore. And, should you not wish to purchase from the big A, and not have a store near you or it’s too cold to go out, I suggest www.Bookshop.org. True, you’ll have to pay s/h, but not much, and a certain percentage of the purchase price goes to independent bookstores (you can even choose your favorite).
And, of course, your favorite Old Auntie survived the identity theft and resultant aches & pains—many thanks to the help of Favorite Daughter. To be honest, I’m not sure I could have survived without her help.
I did get some poetry written and published (Thank you Quill & Parchment and Dos Gatos Press). Watched way too much YouTube. Not too much on the political front, as those tend to add to the depression I’ve been fighting, and mostly winning, for the past 14 months. The new AI stories, most on revenge, and pretty funny. The stories, the obvious lack of I in the AI, especially the so-called military ones. No, I do not leave comments, nor click on them. I’m pretty sure many of them are out of China, but if you listen, you can tell they’re AI. Maybe A+ would be a better descriptor? A-?? Also one of the ways to tell if the news you’re watching by your favorite pundit is really Pundit or A+/-. Listen. You’ll know.
On 1 June 2018, I welcomed a rescue large Chihuahua named Sammy, into my life. He was literally afraid of his own shadow, of dead, dried, zombie leaves that ran at him to eat puppy brains, any other human that spoke to him, dogs on leashes, ducks on his sidewalk, thunder terrified him, as well as fireworks. With thunder, he becomes highly (lowly? his legs are pretty short??) agitated, and he jumps off the bed, goes under the bed, then back on the bed, and repeats until the offending sounds finally quit. I changed his name to Sammy Brave Dog, hoping it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Last night, New Year’s Eve, the fireworks started somewhere around midnight (I assume) and I braced to become his launchpad off the bed to the floor when he nosed his way under the blankets and snuggled next to me, and didn’t so much as shiver or shake the rest of the night. In checking my smart watch, I see I was awake for a little over an hour roughly between midnight and 1:10am. When the fireworks were going off. And my puppy slept through it!!!
And the zombie puppy-brain-eating-leaves that attack him at the whim of the wind? For the most part, he now just raises is back leg and tells them who the boss is!
While visiting a friend the other day, I was struck by a black/white photo of a white wolf in snow, on her wall. The outline was there, but it was almost all white except the eyes and nose. So, I came home and started playing with my camera and my mini-wolf. He is an extremely shy dog, but here are a couple photos, one as he looks, and the other in my feeble attempt to make him a white wolf.
I was at The Book Tree in Kirkland, WA on Saturday 2 August 2025, to read some poetry from Saying Goodbye to Thomas and other poems to officially launch the book, to send it out into bookstores and the hands and hearts of readers.
I spent time figuring out how condense the video my Sister of Choice, Lee, took of m reading. Finally called my Guru, and he said why not just load it to YouTube and put the link in. So, I did. This was in a bookstore, and you’ll hear me read AND the door bell, as the door opens and closes.
Enjoy the reading. Enjoy meeting Thomas if you weren’t one of the most fortunate to have known him in life, meet him in spirit.
The ISBN: 979-8899900471, take it, the title Saying Goodbye to Thomas, my name ah, come on, you know be my now, I’m Lenora Rain-Lee Good–your favorite Auntie Lenora, and go into your favorite brick and mortar bookstore to order your copy (either paper back or hardback). Remember, all proceeds/royalties will be divided equally between ALS Association and Death With Dignity.
On 8 April, I had my identity stolen. Admittedly, with my unsuspecting help. I received a couple of texts from “goldmansachsfd” wanting to know if two charges to my Apple card were mine, press 1 or not, press 2 and an Apple Representative would soon be with me. Silly me, I pressed 2. A couple minutes later, Morrice Paul, Apple Representative called me. According to him, someone bought my iPhone11 (traded in a year or more ago), hacked into it, and got all my personal info. Yeah, right. I lost my email, my phone #, my iCloud account, my sanity, and who knows what else.
Kudos of the highest order to the manager of the Spokane Boeing Employees Credit Union (BECU), the guys in the Apple Store in Spokane, and the guys in my Kennewick Verizon store. A lot of heartache, a lot of information overload, a prescription for anti-depressants that made me suicidal, a prescription for an anti-anxiety which worked properly, and now a freaking croupy cough for no known reason I can figure out, but I’m coming back. I have my original email and phone number back, and that’s a biggie.
BECU caught the fraud way before I did, and locked my accounts. When I went to Spokane so I could prove I actually am who I say I am, I had all new accounts waiting for me. And help on next steps. (The Spokane branch is the nearest one to me, a 2 hour drive vs 2.5 to Issaquah!)
The guys at the Apple Store helped me get my email back and the guys at my Verizon store managed to get my phone # back.
I have spent days talking/visiting/calling companies—when I could think. Some I could actually get past the AI and talk to a real human—or at least a more intelligent AI. The one I really dreaded was going to the Social Security Office. Had to go in person to give them my new checking account numbers for my direct deposit. I had no appointment, so just had to wait my turn (what a concept, eh?). The people were polite, friendly, humorous, professional, and fast. Easy peasy. Great kudos to the Kennewick SS Office. I assume DOGE didn’t know how to either pronounce, nor find, Kennewick, and left them alone.
From what I’m hearing, it will take something like 2-3 months before I will know if I have my life back. I can see why the hackers wanted my email and phone, and I’m ecstatic I got them back when I did. He went to my Pay Pal account, using my name &c, got them to send everything to him, not me. But because I got my email back, I got that stopped. I also got his ‘alleged’ name, email, and address, which I turned over to my Police Department, and every fraud dept I talked to. And my Favorite Daughter has been a huge support. She came over and helped me fill out an online federal form. Believe me, I was in such information overload I couldn’t do it on my own.
Bought $23.00 of groceries, and my new pin wouldn’t work on my new debit card. I put my groceries back on the counter, with tears running down my checks, and said I’d be back later, wondering how I would pay for my prescriptions, etc. The checker called me back, placed my groceries in my cart and send me on my way. He bought them. All I could think of during all this is, this is how homeless people must feel, when they first become homeless. I went home, called Favorite Daughter, she met me at the store, I got there earlier and asked for the manager, told him what a hero I thought Wes was, and the whole story. He called Wes over, and told him what a hero he thought Wes was, that we was looking after the community, etc. and so on. Between us, we managed to embarrass Wes no end. Then when I got home I called Corporate HQ to tell them the story, and get Wes some Corporate Recognition. Favorite Daughter paid Wes for me, and for my prescriptions, and loaned me enough to get by on. I have good kids! And I now have a pin my debit card recognizes
All of the people I’ve talked to, have been most helpful and sympathetic, from the ladies at SSENSE (pronounced Essence) and Nordstrom and Gucci, to the people at Paypal, USAA, Pay One, Synchrony Bank, and all the others I can only say, Many, Many Thank Yous for your help, your understanding, your empathy.
Of course, I wouldn’t wish having one’s identity stolen on anyone, but it has renewed my faith in my fellow Americans. From people in various fraud departments to Wes, Hero Checker at Safeway. Well, maybe I’d wish it on the yahoo who decided electronic forms need those damnable drop-downs for states, and other things, instead of giving the option to type it in. Naw, I can’t even wish it on them. But Karma’s a bitch, and she’ll get the ones who steal identities as a way to make money. Oh, yeah, she will.
Lesson Learned: If I ever again get a text or email that wants me to click a link for any reason, and I’m not absolutely positive it’s legit, before I do, I’ll go to the www and call the company using the phone number on their website.
I have decided that your Coffee Break Escape will, for the next few weeks/months, be more or less on a catch as catch can basis. Life has happened, and I find myself busier than when I worked for a living. Things are going well, but until I figure out how to wrestle this life into a semblance of order…
You may remember, I packed my Life away in a shoe box and placed it on the closet shelf a few years ago, then lost it. Well, I found it by accidentally knocking the box to the floor, and Life spilled out in a colorful mess which I am now in the process of picking up and organizing. If I can remember how to organize it. By topic? By color? By size?
Rest assured all is well with Auntie Lenora and the Brave Dog, and we shall make contact as we can. In the meantime, look for joy and beauty. Remember Simon Wiesenthal saw a Sunflower, in all its beauty and glory, as the Nazis marched him from one hell camp to another hell camp. If you must, close your eyes and see that Sunflower, or whatever your favorite flower is.
Quotes of the Week:
“Medicaid is not just for the blacks in the ghetto, it’s for our people, too” ~ so said someone close to the white house. [emphasis mine]
“Re-examine all you have been told. Dismiss what insults your soul.” ~Walt Whitman
Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ “We are all related” ~ Lakota Saying
“I’ll be back.” ~ Arnold Schwarzenegger
Love n Joy n Hugs to you all. Be emotionally and physically well!
I have just been informed that my book, Saying Goodbye to Thomas has been posted to: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/saying-goodbye-to-thomas-by-lenora-rain-lee-good/ for pre-orders. I ask you to seriously consider pre-ordering as it is the number of pre-orders that will determine the amount of royalties I receive. PLEASE NOTE: I will, upon receipt of all royalty checks, immediately split the amount and sent to ALS Association and End of Life Washington. I will keep NO monies from this book.
Weather in the Tries: The schedule looks much better. Not a single day or night lower than 32F and the days will all be in me mid- to -high 50s!!! Wahoo!!! The Brave Dog is jumping with glee. Now, if the rain will fall during the time he’s inside napping instead of the times he needs to go outside to visit the Grass Gods ;-). Maybe not seeing my shadow did mean Spring is near 😉
And We Were Granted a Miracle: No matter if you worship Ma Nature, Evolution, a named god, Selu Corn Mother, or none of the preceding, we still had a miracle this past week. An ill Leonard Peltier finally went home to his tribe, his family, his people, his land. As he said, “I am free.” And he is home for the first time in more than 50 years. (He was taken from his family and home when he was nine and sent to a Government Boarding School. He’s never really been home since then.)
I remember the gun battle where he allegedly shot and killed two FBI agents at point blank range, I remember reading about it, watching tv about it, all the conflicting stories. I vaguely remember that more than one witness was given a fair amount of booze, some money, and a one-way ticket to another state and told not to come back. Everything I read through the years lead me to think that yes, Peltier was there, that he fired his weapon from a distance and in self-defense, and that he did not shoot the two agents. In fact, I read a few accounts by people who were allegedly there, that the two agents were collateral damage shot by other agents. Which would help explain the rabid response of the FBI to Biden’s commutation.
At any rate, Peltier spent 5 decades in prison, and none were in Club Fed. He did not have an easy time. And yet, when he left, he had the respect of his jailers who lined the walkway as an honor to him, and Peltier shook each of their hands. I betcha there was no such honor for the J-6ers who were released. That should say something about Peltier’s character vs. that of, say, the ‘heroes’ of FFOTUS.
Photo of the Week:
Proposed cover for book, taken from the front porch of Thomas’s Cabin in the Ozarks, and my back cover photo.
from the desk of the brave dog; ooooh, can you see this puppy do happy dance. the cold weather has moved on to somewhere else. I’m not sorry at all. I hope it doesn’t come back. Maybe I’ll get longer walks again. oh, here I go again, tap tap taptaptap, hap, hap, happppppyyyyyyyyy dance.
Video of the week: Somehow, I got hooked on the Change Cleaning Services Center YouTube channel where they clean old and filthy carpets. Well, I’ve said for years that work fascinates me, I can sit and watch it by the hour 😉
