In a recent post, I mentioned that one of the major donors for the current Savannah Performing Arts Festival withdrew his funding because the festival was to include a section on the Art of Drag.
Art. Key word …. “Art.”
This injustice, of course, follows a dangerously growing trend led by the Trump regime to damage/destroy trans and LGBTQ rights in the United States, a country that proclaims liberty and justice FOR ALL.
Apparently, “ALL” now means white and straight.
But thankfully, ALL are not narrow-minded and evil …
May Evil’s Democracy-Destroying Voice Be Silenced.
1. This beyond-delicious morning coffee at one of our favorite coffee shops here in Savannah, Origin Coffee Bar.
“Southern Frost: A cozy orange and cardamom flat white with your milk of choice.”
Of course, I didn’t really know the definition of a “flat white.”
Hello, Google.
“A flat white is an espresso drink made with steamed milk and microfoam, resulting in a velvety texture and creamy taste. It’s smaller than a latte or cappuccino, but stronger due to less froth and milk. The milk in a flat white is velvety and not diluted with foam, highlighting the coffee’s nuances. Flat whites are made with a 2:3 coffee-to-milk ratio, compared to 1:2 for cappuccinos.” coffeebeancorral.com
TMI?
2. The Joyful Ability to Walk!
On a hike, somewhere or other, with my faithful hiking stick.
3. Getting caught in a DOWNPOUR yesterday morning on busy Bay Street near us here in Savannah.
Finding a bit of shelter under a store’s awning.
My thoughts earlier as we headed out the door, umbrella-less, into threateningly dark clouds: “Oh we have time to dash down the street for a twenty-minute constitutional.”
Robert droning on about who-knows-what. I wasn’t paying attention to him. The rain was talking louder.
2. My Crock Pot Sunday Sirloin Tip Roast, which we had, well, last Sunday.
Here’s a photo timeline of how it went down.
Put it in the Crock Pot, then walk away for eight hours.
But unlike Lot’s unfortunate wife, you know in the Sodom and Gomorrah saga, I did not look back and be turned into a pillar of Morton Salt.
Gracious, do I ever look like a grumpy old man, even if I am wearing my Christmas jammy pants, which may be out of season, but oh so comfortable and fashionable.
Eight hours later …
And because I’m sure you want to know, I’m out of my Christmas jammy pants by now. But seriously, do they expect you to wear your holiday attire ONLY on the holiDAY itself?!
Oh my GOODness!
Okay, I’ve probably brought you to near catastrophic boredom ranting about this roast, but do you know the difference between top and tip sirloin? I admit that I did not. Well, let AI inform us …
Here is what AI did not tell you: “tip” is substantially cheaper than “top,” (which is why I bought it to begin with).
You can now splash some cold water on your face and continue reading about my remaining Happy Bringers.
3. The amazing ability to SEE! In any direction. Take a moment to be grateful for this miracle. Everybody doesn’t have it.
4. Somehow, on a walk yesterday afternoon near us here in Savannah, being able to see a little beauty even in the wake of destruction.
A tree which had to be cut back because of disease.
Or maybe that’s not beauty. What do you think?
5. Completing 14,000 minutes of meditation this week.
But seriously, wouldn’t you think I’d be a bit more … enlightened by now?! Instead of still sometimes wondering what meditation actually is.
Marveling this Monday Morning at the simple and beautiful truth of poetry.
Small Kindnesses
By Danusha Laméris
I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you” when someone sneezes, a leftover from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying. And sometimes, when you spill lemons from your grocery bag, someone else will help you pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other. We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot, and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder, and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass. We have so little of each other, now. So far from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange. What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here, have my seat,” “Go ahead—you first,” “I like your hat.”
Danusha Laméris’ insightful poem asks us to notice and cherish the many “small kindnesses” we exchange with strangers as we move through the world. Though quick, these moments have the potential to fulfill our shared need for compassion.
As I mentioned in a previous post, HR and I are up in Baltimore for his aunt’s funeral. It has been an extraordinarily busy couple of days, and we are both worn out.
So this afternoon, the last day of 2024, I found us a little independent bookstore/coffeeshop/winery, Backwater Books, in Ellicott City, a beautiful little hamlet about thirty minutes west of Baltimore.
From the moment we parked in Ellicott City’s parking area by the bubbling Patapsco River, we began to slow down.
OK, maybe my hair didn’t.
Stepping into the shop, holiday bookishness (can that be a word?) greeted us …
We looked around at the inviting stacks …
Robert got us got a dram of wine and we settled down …
