|Commonwealth Avenue, Boston|
I have to admit that I am enjoying the 55° weather, as weird as it is to be Christmas shopping without a coat. And I'm sure it's good for business. Who wants to stay inside watching old movies on a day like this. I'll accept it as a momentary pleasure that I know I'll regret later.
I can't imagine Trump being elected president, though and can't believe that anyone else can. As I've already said over on Facebook, I don't think he started out seriously wanting the job; rather, he wanted to prove that it could be his for the asking. It's hard to tell what he may have in mind now. I refuse to accept even the possibility.
The shrimp. Always a part of our Christmas Eve cocktail hour, the shrimp have to go this year. We can't knowingly eat food processed by slaves. Unlike R., who won't eat any animal that she can't shake hands with before the slaughter, I'm more concerned with the humans in the food chain. So the rest of us are still having beef filet on xmas eve, at least until we find out about the workers on the factory farms. Shrimp, rejected.
ISIS. Oy. What would happen if we just left them alone and brought all Westerners home from the Middle East?