Not here, for sure. If you’re reading this, you are among the six or so subscribers to my online monologue who receive an email notification. I appreciate you! However, I doubt you’ve missed hearing from me in the past few months. During that time, I’ve been hanging around the house, like everyone else concerned about pandemic. When covid terror abated enough to open international borders, Bill and I were able to visit the cottage in Canada, after a two-year absence. We huddled among the trees for two lovely months. After that, we enjoyed a week-long “expedition” cruise via Viking Octantis on the Great Lakes. Although air travel was an ordeal, we arrived home healthy and refreshed. Refreshed to confront the rancorous political climate of our homeland and find our way back to a domestic routine.

Bill has taken up the autumnal chores of beekeeping. Queens have been located in each hive, and winter stores of honey inspected. A feeding of sugar water will augment what the bees have stored for themselves as the bees hunker down for their over-winter survival. Bill plays in his workshop making useful and beautiful things.

I’ve returned to the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in service as a Docent. School groups now free to visit public places have been eager to bring their busloads to the Nelson. Please go Here to find out what’s there for you to see as well.

Current events have contributed to a gloomy cloud inside my normally cheerful head. I doubt that the November election will resolve anything, but the end of electioneering online and elsewhere will diminish the noise somewhat. Afflictions of aging and disease have arrived among my nearest and dearest, for whom I can supply only a little consolation. Recently attaining the age of 76, I have to admit that my inner 30-year-old lacks the stamina and the optimism she used to take for granted.

I’ve been greatly cheered by a book given to me by a dear friend, who knows how much I admire the astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson. His 2022 book Starry Messenger: Cosmic Perspective on Civilization, really does put the everyday assault of doom-scrolling in perspective, with immense good humor.

Speaking of assault, I have one little whine to share. That is, “everybody” seems to want to know what I think in the form of surveys. For instance, I need a certain kitchen gadget or OTC medicine, okay? I might check out prices and sources online. I might purchase online or step into a Walmart, CVS or some other retail store. Next thing I know, I’m being queried in emails: Did we meet your expectations? Were we nice to you? Would you recommend us to a friend? Please tell us—we really want to know. Happily, there’s a delete button. Delete, delete, delete. Not difficult, but time consuming, considering the volume of minor purchases, restaurant visits, etc. And the requests for feedback are relentless. I gave one business a highly favorable review, only to receive a request that I repeat the same glowing report in another channel. Please, people. Leave me alone!!! I like you…but less if you badger me. On the scale of woes, this one is about a Minus Five. Perspective.

If you’d care to respond to this blog, I’d be delighted to hear from you. But I’ve probably already got my jollies out of writing it. I hope I’ve broken the ice of my long absence from my own conversation with myself, the universe, and whoever might arrive here. Thanks for stopping by.

I’ll be back…a little sooner.