I know I'm not the only person in the world whose emotions and psyche are so driven by the weather. After weeks of 90 degree temps it's finally beginning to feel like fall. And I don't care that it's only August and still technically summer. I. don't. care. I want sweater wearing, apple eating, hayride and Halloween and Sam Adams October Fest drinking times. It's raining now and it's only 66 degrees. I'm so happy I could shit.
What I'm reading now: "Silent on the Moor" by Deanna Raybourne. Third in a historical mystery series. It appeals to my romantic, gothic side.
Generally I'm not one to mythologize politicians. Now I love me some Jimmy Carter. And I think Bill was a buttload of fun while he was in office. But since that asshat John Edwards made me look like a fuckin' fool, I've tried to keep my mouth shut about the whole mess. So I'm just gonna say this: The death of Ted Kennedy has saddened me a great deal. As an American I've come to depend on the Kennedys to be beautiful and shiny and important and philanthropic. Millionaire do-gooders. Which is the only kind of millionaire I'm loathe to hate. But Teddy's gone. The baby brother. And I can't help but feel sorry for myself. For all the folks younger than me that won't grow up knowing the present power of at least one of that glorious trinity.
The History Place