Tuesday Blahs

*;45

Skating Pond

Up at 7:15, to 28 degrees outside, no sunrise to speak of, just grays and more grays.  The lake is still frozen, with a layer of snow, some fishermen are already out on the ice over towards Long Point, and I have finished my second cup of coffee as I write this, listening to Morning Joe on Sirius Radio.  The pundits are blabbering about Obama's budget.  No one seems to like it; I am not sure why the democrats don't but I don't have the patience to listen.  I am tired of the news, of politics, of the polarity and lack of action of our politicians, like most Americans.  I remember reading a poll where 85% of Americans would, if they could, get rid of all of Congress and start over with an entirely new membership.  Sounds like a good idea but it wouldn't take them long to be like this current group---a new Harry Reid or Mitch Mc Connell would arise to screw things up.

We went into Lakewood yesterday, Evie to the YMCA, me to Yoga.  I am making some progress with my mindfulness because I hardly thought about the time.  I am getting  better at paying attention to my breath and forgetting about what's on my mind, of being 'empty and marvelous', my goal.  My lower back bothers me some, but I am not sure if it's from yoga or our mattress.  Later in the day, I walked at the CI and went to the library to pick up some DVD's that my granddaughters might like.  The roads were icy and snow covered, so it was not much fun walking though mild, getting up to 47 in the early afternoon.

We had more chicken curry for dinner, even better than yesterday and I have been eating some mango pickle along with my curry.  It's a favorite of Indian food aficionados, at least in the novels I have read.  Beth gave me a jar for my birthday.  It is very strong tasting, sour and hot.  It is, at first, a disagreeable taste but like many foods/drinks (Manhattans, beer, wine, hot foods), the more you eat it, the more you like it.  I put just a taste on my fork along with the curry and yum, I like it.

We watched Downton Abbey, the next two hours, and the Spanish flu hits the house, infecting all.  It's moving quickly and in unexpected ways.  Also, hints of infidelity are squelched, Bates is married, then arrested for murder, Sybil declares her love for the chauffeur and Matthew's fiancee dies, complicating the affections and marriage plans of Mary.  It's getting more like an afternoon soap but still delicious fun.