The announcement yesterday of Obama’s national security team brought no surprises, but it wil surely be interesting to see how things unfold – most particularly between Obama and Clinton. This piece from the Washington Post (by Michael Abramowitz and Glenn Kessler) emphasizes the importance of the Obama-Clinton relationship – and the challenges they will confront in forging it.
I watched Hardball last night on MSNBC and wanted to jump through the TV and strangle Christopher Hitchens – who seems to be verging on the delusional (and certainly the obsessive) when it comes to the Clintons. Watch Obama respond to the press … then Hitchens spewing – and then (FINALLY) Joan Walsh smacking him down!
What a precious, polemical twit he is, huh? At least it gets the blood flowing on a chilly morning.
Yup, it’s December 2. I’m coming to the end of a very long string of vacation days (Thanks, Riverbend! And hey – that Annual Report is looking good!) and predictably feeling some remorse about the things on my To Do List that I didn’t get to. Today I’ve gotta make a dent in that pile of chiminea wood that needs to be sawed up before the snow flies. And I wish I could take some prophylactic naps, to pile up “savings” in my sleep account – but unfortunately it doesn’t work that way, huh? I’m trying not to focus on the books I didn’t read, the exercise I didn’t get, etc. It’s amazing, eh? How reflexively we undermine ourselves?
I was thinking yesterday that a vacation is a little like a small lifetime … filled with hopes, expectations, plans, disappointments. Okay – I realize it’s a little overblown – but I’m seeing the way I approach the end of a vacation as a cautionary preview of the way I might approach the end of my life. Good to see it now and be able to prepare, so that I’m not filled with regret or berating myself as I prepare to greet St. Peter! Sheesh!
So I’m off to saw up some wood and savor these last couple of days. You?
The orange moon crisps the garden parsley and
bright marigolds shadow blue on white pickets and
sunlight stipples slow turning greenery and
from cedar-smelling caches come courderoys and comforters.
Grey trees honed sharp tangle high cirrus wisps and
the lavender west lights windows sealed against the season and
woodsmoke speaks warm hearths, Russian novels, and steeped tea,
whie in dusky gusts staccato leaves crackle, gutter strewn.
Between steel earth and crystal sky
no impediments now. No soft draperies.
Only the secret snow massing somewhere,
poised over the dark Solstice, waiting to pour.
by moi 😉
Oops – and I nearly forgot – the song for today. here’s to working it out!