While I've been recovering from my mad spoon-spending spree (I blew all my spoons on Thanksgiving cooking) certain questions have been floating to the top of my consciousness, causing me a real amount of anxiety. The only thing standing between me and half of a Xanax is my considerable dislike for dependence on any kind of drug. So while I have a perfectly legal prescription, I prefer to save them for something a bit more catastrophic. Like a Donald Trump inauguration.
Which brings me back to those floating questions. At the top of the list:
What happens if Jill Stein successfully demands ballot recounts and it turns out that Hillary really did win the election, both the popular vote and the Electoral College? Does The Donald then have to concede? Will he line up all of his (mostly pathetic) Cabinet choices and bellow out "You've been fired!" Will his whole terrible "transition" dissolve into a mist, to be forgotten like a bad dream?
Could it be that this is the last Thanksgiving for which I will be able to do all the traditional cooking? (Damn fibromyalgia. There was a time I could prepare all the food for 20+ people, work full time while commuting 2 hours each way, and never break a sweat. I don't mind (well, not much) getting older but I do mind getting physically feeble.)
Something I did for me, just recently but many months in the making: I rather neatly replaced two of my main doctors. Both my primary care physician and my psychiatrist lost their damn minds, somehow triggered by my disability claim. Not only did they not help me, they damn near sabotaged me.
I guess that means it was my turn to holler "You're fired!"
I'm still knitting lace patterns into squares. It is very restful except when it's not. Frogging back rows of lace is a royal pain in the psyche, but the good news is that each square is no more that 41 stitches across.