Shut Up and Bake

It's snowing here in Maine. I got up at six, made coffee and went outside and started shoveling. Then I came inside and had a steaming bowl of oatmeal with walnuts and blueberries and more coffee. Then I went out again and shoveled more and started to dig out my car, sitting in the driveway because of late predictions that there would not be snow after all but just freezing rain. Vince the plow guy arrived, along with his new assistant who seemed like a very nice guy, despite the fact that when I stuck out my hand and said, "Hi, I'm Andrea," he replied with, "Nice to meet ya, I'm almost fifty!" I found that odd, but he said he's proud of it since he looks so much younger. I then advised him to start introducing himself as "just past forty." He liked that. Anyway, the two of them helped me get my car cleaned off and into the garage.

This afternoon, after my workout at the gym if I can get there and back safely without sliding off into a ditch after hitting some black ice or dying in a head-on collision with a tow truck, I will bake and decorate Christmas sugar cookies to bring to the post office tomorrow morning by 9:30, my assigned time slot.

I will try really hard to forget all about Donald Trump and Ivanka Trump and Breitbart and Michael Moore and the Electoral College and whoever will be the next Secretary of State and the head of HUD and EPA and the CIA and the FBI or whatever, and especially my husband's deranged, foul-mouthed twin cousins who cannot seem to write the word "Republican" without preceding it with "fucking" or "frigging" or "retarded." I will have a nice day, and I suggest you do the same, since all that bellyachin' about things beyond our control will change exactly nothing.

And yes, I think those silly protests will change nothing. Want change? Go to law school, get into politics, run for office. Otherwise, shut up already, you're giving me a headache.