The Orange Menace Affliction

 (Above: (Fucking) Moron. This is a new piece channeling my "inner Rex Tillerson". Didn't know I had one, right? Well this is one thing I agree with him on...)
I have effectively diagnosed myself with Trump Anxiety Disorder. Having read several news articles (not fake!) describing exactly what I've been experiencing, I am a text book case. I just wish there was an easy cure.
I sleep badly. And then I wake up hoping the power is on- somehow this is my signal that a nuclear bomb hasn't been dropped on us over night. I figure if the electrical grid is functioning, we're still okay. I guess I should be glad for small things. Or maybe that's a big thing!
I can't stop reading/listening to the news. I wish I could control that impulse, too. Bob and I are news junkies at present: updating the progress of the Mueller investigation, scrolling to react to whatever insane tweet has burped forth from the White House.
I know we're not alone: every late night talk show is obsessed with the actions of him. Although at least we laugh when his actions are parsed and parodied! If we didn't laugh, we be screaming. Maybe that is the more appropriate response.
When will it end? But then I contemplate "president Pence". Not much better- a homophobic, women mistrusting religious zealot who is every bit as crazy and dangerous, just in a different way. Women would probably have to wear burkas if he ascends to the throne in case of impeachment or resignation. And if Pence is dragged down along with The Orange Menace, would we survive "president Ryan"? Oh please! He's the architect behind the rethuglicans cruel tax overhaul! Isn't there enough income disparity without Ryan soon claiming that because of huge deficits (because of those charming millionaire increasing tax cuts) there must be cuts to "entitlements" like Medicare and Social Security... Don't get me started!
And tonight is the much anticipated Alabama showdown between Roy Moore and Doug Jones. What has the rethuglican party come to that they would seriously consider a man who stalks under age girls at shopping malls and is a pedophile pervert because "at least he isn't a Democrat?" Is that really the choice? Bob and I have obtained pizza and wine and are planning on celebrating the weirdness of our times. Looks like it's gonna be a long night...

Building A Wall

I realize that the title of this post seems to refer to a notorious project that is being trumpeted about by a recent occupier of the White House (that will cost billions and accomplish nothing other than to make many people's lives worse than they already are...). But in this instance, the title refers to various barricades that Bob and I now live with as a matter of course. These demi-walls are set up to temporarily block a certain young dog access to rooms in our house.(Hi Robin!)

As we all fondly remember, Lil' Robin the Good refused to be confined when she was a mere pup. She scaled barriers of every description and height, perhaps employing magical powers, as she seemed to miraculously appear on the other side of whatever wall was erected. It was impressive. We finally relented, and gave her the run of the house and so far we have suffered no disastrous consequence, excepting Robin's consumption (with no ill effect) of several pairs of reading glasses, sun glasses and Bob's prescription glasses and a passel of pens.
However, when we're not present, we do restrict her access to a few rooms with these temporary barriers. Inexplicably, these pieces of plywood and fiberboard work where more serious blockades never did. And you may ask, why not just close the doors to these rooms? Because Lil' Robin doesn't like closed doors and will scratch and whine vigorously until the door is opened.

My studio, the bedroom and the "office" are all off limits as they are beyond impossible to secure from her idiosyncratic quest for things to chew. (I call it "shopping": she cases a room, checking out all nose-height surfaces.) Robin seems content to roam the rest of the house, and in general, we have been lucky that furniture has been spared. And Robin was a pretty quick study in the house training department; we really didn't experience many "accidents" of the liquids and solids variety.

And look! There's Lil' Robin now, with an entertaining assortment of her preferred chewables: empty seltzer bottles and plastic perennial pots, with the occasional foray into more traditional things like balls. And below? The Magic Robin! (Looks sort of like she's saying "Who me? I didn't eat that!")