A friend posted this meme yesterday. After a good chuckle, I had to honestly admit to myself that it is I who must own up to being the drama queen. Jim has attempted, albeit at a drastically reduced level, to go about his daily activities. Me? Why do that when I can whine. 😂
Flight 752. How, as family or friend of one of the victims, do you ever come to terms with such a devastatingly useless loss? The brilliant talent and promise of these Iranian Canadians puts to shame those against Iranian immigration. Should Ukrainian Airlines have been flying into a potential war zone? Thank God for our current prime minister who, instead of tweeting out insulting furious knee-jerk reaction comments, in his speeches about the tragedy left diplomatic room for the Iranians to admit fault and who, instead of focusing on his own fury, has concentrated his efforts on the surviving families. Please Iran, for the sake of those involved, mitigate their agony and allow this investigation and subsequent compensation to be an easy process. Wishful thinking? Oh, and to Mr. Drumpf who stated that should it be proven Flight 752 was shot down by an Iranian missile, there would be serious repercussions, may we respectfully ask you to shut up. No American citizens were harmed and we Canadians, Ukrainians and Brits are doing just fine on our own. Actually, better without your assistance!
Australia. It is only the beginning of their summer, and still the infernos continue. What the Aussies are feeling, I cannot even begin to understand, because on this tragedy, my emotions are a giant never-ending roller coaster. My heart swells with pride as I watch our Canadian firefighters land in Sydney to offer assistance and then my mood crashes as I listen to a scientist estimate that now one billion animals have perished. Huge sighs of relief emanate from me when friends notify us that they are safe only to have my joy crash as I read that two wildfires in the southeast may merge into one inferno. I cry in sadness as I see a photo of a dead kangaroo lying in a burnt-out forest and then cry again, this time in love, as I watch a koala grab the hand of a man feeding him water. Worst is the helplessness. I hate feeling helpless.
To Harry and Meghan, go for it. Who can blame Prince Harry for wanting out? He didn’t ask for his current life; he was born in to it. As a child he followed his Mother’s coffin; no ‘stiff upper lip’ helps you deal with that. Now his wife is being hounded by the relentlessly ugly British press. It may be ‘complicated’, but I say find your happiness; find your freedom.
Amber Alert! Nothing like being woken up by an Amber Alert warning of an incident at the Pickering Nuclear Plant. Perhaps we should all go our and purchase lottery tickets, because the alert was in error.
Ice storm. I could hear the clicking of ice particles on our window last night and expected the worst. Sometimes, thankfully, the weatherman gets it wrong. I am sitting here with no interruptions in power and temperatures back to their sub-zero norms, looking out at sparkling ice covered trees and a thin layer of snow on the ground. Stunningly beautiful winter has returned. I’m fine with that!
And that’s all folks!
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