Robert De Niro’s waiting

Temperature: a rainy 5/41. We have a rose in bloom. Poor thing doesn’t know which season it is; was that the winter, is it spring?
 
Eating: a lunch salad.

Drinking: Le beaujolais nouveau est arrivé! Not now, you alkies!! Later.

Watching: trying to find a slot for The Irishman. We’ll need snacks. And an intermission.

Listening: to my son’s rendition of Santa Lucia, which the school choir will be performing on the 13th as per tradition in these parts. A flicker of light in the dark. 🕯️

Reading: Jonas Gardell’s Till minne av en villkorslös kärlek (To the memory of an unconditional love; a story about his mother and family, and a story about stories, the lies and legends we concoct for fun, in jest, and to shroud secrets and painful truths).

Writing: should probably get started on those Christmas cards.

Thinking: Thank you, dear universe, for this life, and forgive every second I don’t love and enjoy it enough. Happy Thanksgiving to family and friends in the U.S. 🦃 Keep safe on those roads and the Alka-Seltzer at the ready.

Everybody report to the dance floor, please!

Because you need a break.

Because a sedentary lifestyle is hazardous to your health.

Because (Kaoma's) Lambada turned 30 this year.

Because Bahia, Brazil. (Where the video was filmed. My second Brazilian home state. 🥰)

Because the automatic outdoor lights are on in the middle of the day.

Because it's so dark.

Because it's November in Scandinavia.

Because WTF.

Because Bolsonaro. And all the other plutocrats around the world. 😠

Because, as Mel & Kim used to sing, if you dance, you'll feel a whole lot better.

Shall we?

Canção, riso e dor, melodia de amor
Um momento que fica no ar...

Bright-eyed, bushy-frickin'-tailed

Temperature: 10/50 degrees. In the middle of November. R i i i g h t.

Eating: sensibly; the season to stuff our faces is closing in, and you know you probably will, so how about we don’t jump the gun on this one; it will end in tears and indigestion.

Drinking: see above

Watching: The Righteous Gemstones. Under his eye. Shamelessly. (Oh and have you seen Russian Doll? Whyever not? Natasha Lyonne is to die for. Pun 110% intended. And that song is gonna get stuck inside your head.)

Listening: Gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get home before the mo-o-orning comes… Oh great. Just great. I mean a Christmas carol! Christmas carol!! Hey, it’s my son on the piano. Am I going to curb his musical ambition and enthusiasm? Hardly.

Reading: Elizabeth Strout’s Olive, Again.

Writing: stuff for work. I fully intend to take time off around the holidays, so no time to muck about now.

Thinking: It’s not just Arthur Fleck, is it? It is getting crazier out there. Same as it ever was, sweetie darlings. Same as it ever was.

Feeling: a slight tickling in my throat; you know, the kind that announces the arrival of some virus or other. Oh great. Just great. Kettle on. ✔️ Zinc out. ✔️ Skip Zumba. ✔️ Bite me. I bite back.

Remember, remember...

"People shouldn't be afraid of their governments."