Sunday. Follow me down the rabbit hole that is my brain this morning

 I have been thinking about stuff lately. Trying NOT to have every waking moment consumed with what is going on politically in this country.

The aim is to exhaust you so you stop fighting back.

Not doing that.

So, I am goin to theater, museums and to the local garden for walks among the trees.  I don't know why trees seem to calm me, as if they are speaking to my soul.  There is a bench, among the trees that sits on a stream. It's my favorite place there and when I walk across the garden, I always hope the bench is empty and waiting for me.  I know it's selfish, but it is my relief.  There are other benches placed in the area , but that one, donated by a couple named Jack and Sallie, is my favorite.

But on this quiet Sunday morning, there IS something that is bothering me.

I read a column by Sean Dietrich a writer who is a fiddle player, or maybe a fiddle player who is a writer- not sure which. He mostly writes what they used to call Human Interest Stories, about people or places he encounters in his daily life, either in person or in the letters people send him.

This week he is in Gettysburg and he spoke of ghosts.  Old towns that suffered the type of trauma are, in my opinion, very likely to hold the spirits of those who died suddenly.  They either stay because they want to or can't leave.  I don't know too much about that side of things, but it makes some sense to me.  I just got a book written by my friend, Russel Chan called "the White Light Meets the Thin Blue Line" about his journey to Mediumship.  I need to sit down and just read it- I read the first Chapter but then all my library books came in and you know how THAT is.  I enjoyed the first chapter.  He has a good voice. When I finish it- hopefully this week I will post reviews.  I owe a few reviews anyway.

Sean posted today that he got hate mail about his ghost column. I can expect nothing less from people who claim to be Christians and although I follow that faith, I am glad I am no longer going to church.

Case in point:  

Recently there were supposed to be floods in Hawaii and there was some talk about Oprah Winfrey having a private road and people saying she didn't open it so people could escape.  I read on one page of someone who is particularly religious about the misinformation and the VITROL of the supposed Christians was- I have no other word for it- evil. They gleefully consigned her to Hell and eternal damnation.  When I found a link to a news article that this was NOT true, I posted it.  Thankfully, the originator of the post, upon being informed, took it down, but I still recall these supposed church-goers and their judge-y Hellfire-and-Brimstone reactions.

I was also recently told that I would NOT be going to heaven, since I did not follow a certain branch of Christianity.  The person I was talking to was ABSOLUTLEY certain I was going to Hell.

As my mom used to say that's ok  all my friends are there.

I don't think I want to spend eternity with some of these people. That WOULD be my idea of Hell.

Now before you jump off on me, please know that whatever YOU believe that helps YOU be a better human is just FINE with me.  Just don't try to tell ME what to believe.

I'm off this morning to meet a friend for lunch and a museum visit. I'll tell you about it later.

200 pots of coffee

"I have measured out my life with coffee spoons" T.S. Eliot

 I just opened a fresh pack of coffee filters.  There are 200 of them.  Often, when I open a fresh pack, I wonder where I will be when I use the last one- you know, what will I have done, how will the world and I have changed.

I often make a wish on the first one, that things that are going wrong will go right. I think about the cups of coffee I will gulp down on my way to work, or savor with friends,

I know. I'm Weird. Deal with it.

200 filters is 200 pots but not necessarily 200 days, I think that a pack of filters lasts me around 8 months.  I make a pot every morning I am here, but if I have friends in for dinner, or someone needs to talk, I make a fresh pot.

My family calls my coffee "wake the dead juice"  This comes from my daughter, telling my son-in-law who was working a double at his job, to "get some coffee from Mom. Her coffee could wake the dead"

When I was staying with my Dad after my mom died, he complained that my coffee was too strong and I told him "look, you KNOW I make it this way. I can't drink your weak coffee. Add hot water to it. There's nothing that makes weak coffee taste better."  He took his coffee black and after a few days , he was just drinking it the way I made it.

Coffee is half again as expensive as it was a month ago, It went from $17 to $25 overnight. I believe I have Mr. Trump to thank for that.  But I will keep buying my Sumatra beans and brewing a pot in the morning, or whenever someone needs a cup. Coffee has been my morning go-to since I was in Junior high. it's my last "vice" Even my doctor said two cups are ok. I really only drink it in the morning or on an evening occasion when a friend and I share coffee and conversation around my dining room table ( I have a "dining room table" but no dining room, but there we are.)

So did I wish on this first filter?  You know I did. But like Birthday Candle Wishes, Coffee Filter Wishes need to stay secret, or they won't come true.