A Few Thoughts

I decided to write a blog today because I can’t do much else.  I’m immobilized by my foot injuries because my life coach Tony Robbins told me to walk over some burning coals.  I’m looking for a new life coach.  Apply via the comments section.

I just saw this article on Politico: "James Dobson: Trump recently accepted 'a relationship with Christ'".  I’m wrestling with my skepticism right now.  I’d like Dobson to accept a relationship with reality.

I saw Trump doing his ugly American routine in Scotland on the news.  I did not get a Christian vibe off of him.  I like the guy that threw the red golf balls with swastikas. Trump did his speech for a while until his toadies realized what was up and started picking them up.  The perpetrator apologized as they led him away, dripping with sarcasm.

We went to the big city last night for dinner at Mescolanza, an inner Richmond trattoria.  We spent about 20 minutes driving up and down the streets between Clement and Balboa looking for parking.  Then Unc saw a spot right across the street from the restaurant.  I pulled an 18 point turn in the middle of 2^nd Ave. and nabbed it.  The food and company were excellent and we got out the door for $100 per couple.

Last Saturday night consisted of Italian food as well, my new Bolognese in this case.  I had a recipe that I really liked, but it appears I have lost it.  I’m referring to the recipe.  We had Wig’s son and his girlfriend over for dinner.  We had not met her previously.  She is a lovely young woman.  I know at this point you are expecting me to make a crack like “what the hell is she doing with Wig the Younger”, but that would just show that you don’t know the real DJ.  Wig’s Sonny Boy 2 is a handsome, self-assured young man that will soon be off to UW to work on his MBA.  His brother will be my doctor in a few years and he’ll be my financial adviser.

My wife is participating in a walking challenge this weekend.  She has something like 16,000 steps so far.  The whole thing is calculated by the participants' FitBits.  I view the FitBit as this decade’s Pet Rock.

Everybody is all atwitter about Brexit.  I’ve just recently gotten over my fear of a Grexit, so I’m really not ready for this.  And now the pundits are piling on about a possible Frexit or Spexit.  I suppose this all just means I’ll be working until I’m 70.  That’s OK, because I’m better off when I’m occupied.  Otherwise I might blog daily, and no one wants that. 70 isn’t that old.  James Dobson’s dementia didn’t kick in until very recently, and he’s 80.