Burnt Chocolate Stories

This is the first year in my entire life of 82 years that I have lived alone, having gone from my parents home to my marital home. In 1964, a 'nice girl' lived with her parents until she got married. What's interesting to me is what I've learned about myself and my marriage this past year. I have some OCD in me, perhaps more than I'd like to admit. I eat the same breakfast every morning and follow something of a routine. I play the five New York Times games as I eat my cinnamon raisin toast and drink coffee. Even though I can stay up late, eat chocolates to excess, binge watch a show until I'm dizzy, I stay to a regular schedule, much the same as I did when Steve was with me. And I like my apartment to look well groomed at all times, but I'm likely to shove papers and magazines into any available drawer if company is coming over.  I used to think we lived according to Steve's plan, that he was the one who made the decisions about vacations and travel, re...

In spite of the dangerous, spiteful and stupid actions by this government, I'm not really affected. My investment account rises daily, I can afford whatever prices show up in the stores where I shop for food and clothing. I'm able to take trips and for now, I'm not worried about money, which is strange because I have always been a bit of a worrier. But I am angry and wish terrible things on the people that are making the lives of so many impossible. ICE is nothing more than brown shirts revisited upon us from Nazi Germany. Swooping up innocent, loving families and shipping them off to god knows where. Why? Because they can. Because by the time the legal system catches up to them, if it ever does, no one will know where the dispossessed are living, whether they are alive or dead. I've always been proud to be an American, even when Europe painted us as the Ugly American in some book or other. I've forgotten who coined that term.  And yet, I was still proud of my herit...