Thirty-two years ago today a little four-year-old died of chronic illness, partly due to medical negligence and incompetence.  He would have been 36 this year.  Almost my son’s age.

The rest of the family were hateful and apathetic.  Hardly was he underground on that freezing day, when the medical debt collectors started hounding and hollering for payment.  On top of all the grief and years of anguish, it was too much.  The consequences, both emotional and financial, continue on to this day.

I know some of you out there can relate.  It’s a reality too many will have to face in a trump economy, without access to decent healthcare, income, or child services.

Anyway, here’s a memorial candle, flowers, Founders Dirty Bastard Scotch-style ale, and a hint of Chanukah cheer to come (tomorrow evening).

It’s a stark world out there.  All over the deep south there were unusual snowstorms, while the west is burning down all the time now.  “Seasonal” is losing its meaning.  Many coastal cities will be underwater soon.  Blind deniers control our planet’s destiny now.  It’s easy to feel hopeless and helpless, which is what they count on.  Don’t give in.  (I’m talking to myself.)

One thing about being poor–you don’t have too many options to sort through when house-hunting.  It’s not like a housing mega-supermarket, more like a dollar store.

Your options are: a dive out in hillbilly heaven, or a dive hemmed-in by nosy neighbors.  Limited resources pretty much define your boundaries.  Your needs as an at-risk minority (of any kind) further limit your parameters.

You don’t even think amenities others assume or take for granted.  You just hope for a functional roof and infrastructure, with some yard for gardening, and privacy/security from ignorant phobes.  A safe, reliable water/septic system would be nice, too.

Access to educated, affordable healthcare is more of a privilege of the few these days, but it’s a very real consideration for folks in our situation.  We hope we can simply afford to pay all our monthly expenses, and nothing too catastrophic happens.

We can’t afford to rent or be mobile like younger people with options.  This will pretty much be it for us, so we have to choose wisely, for the long haul, which is getting shorter all the time.  We literally can’t afford to make a mistake.  No pressure there!

Lest you think I’m being negative, I’m not.  Just being realistic, and aware we’re definitely not alone in our situation.  More and more of us will be faced with fewer options just to merely survive, with greedy trumpsters in charge.  The only hope is for reasonable people to resist and vote them out as soon as possible.

Back at the here and now, erev cheers from the Skullies, who are patiently awaiting their final home.

Beer names make great subject headers!  Haha, fooled you into thinking this was one of my dark angsty ones!  I refer instead to a nice deep Saugatuck Michigan stout, perfect for a cold, dark day.

So is this slow cooker turkey/chicken vegetable soup I’m making, and this perfect corn bread E made.

Here’s a colorful skyscape from yesterday.

Real life is surreal and insane, and who has the time or the stomach for it?   Sometimes you just revert to the mundane familiar to keep from going there.  Cheaper than moving to Canada, eh?  Although the thought has crossed our minds.

Greetings from Hiber Nation ©™, a collective representing all sane beings who smartly hibernate.  I may not have originated the idea, but I take credit anyway.  I know I’m in good company.  Besides bears, our numbers include reptiles, amphibians, bats, bees, hedgehogs (a personal favorite and true hibernator), raccoons, skunks, and many others.  The intelligent ones, in other words.

I believe humans who enjoy the cold and function in it may be classified under a weird exotic subspecies.  If you do, nothing personal, but excuse me while I go be antisocial and inactive for the duration.  Crazy MoFos.  Humans weren’t made for freezing their asses off.  Blah.  IMHO.

  (from Frog and Toad are Friends, by Arnold Lobel)

Now, if we can all survive the trump hibernator-killers and live to see another spring, that would be great.  We’re all an endangered species now.

Winter is for baking bread and sleeping it off.  (Or working indoors, if you can.)  Here is a wonderful hearty whole grain oat bread E made, to help with the insulation.

It’s 62 degrees in December.  The neighbor (the only one without a junkyard for a yard) is outside in a tank top and shorts, trimming up his lawn.  As for me, mowing and raking leaves in December is ridiculous, so there.  I won’t do it!  Soon we’ll be out of here, and the property will revert to trash and nature anyway.  At least the ground will be composted and not chemicalized.  Our humble legacy.

Speaking of weather, I’m somewhat under it, STS.  Maybe under the climate is more accurate–the midwest atmosphere of going nowhere, taking up space.  But hopefully not for long…

Here’s another dawn.

I’ve tried to block out so much from my conscious mind–mainly the horror that is national news these days, but also tiresome personal narratives–that I find myself staring at the blank page a lot, with not much left to say.

I seem to have two settings: dark, and boring.  The mundane, tedious stuff I tend to post these days isn’t who I really am, but what’s left after you eliminate angsty rants and lost chances.  It all comes down to the trivia of daily subsistence, and a few remaining embers of hope.  Modest hopes, for sure, but if you’re human and not dead yet, you can never entirely stamp out hope.  It’s how we live another day.  It’s how we survive a monster like trump.

Anyway, here’s another dawn.

I haven’t posted foodie stuff in a while, being too demoralized to bother, but this beet and beet greens recipe I came up with is too colorful to not post.  It also has carrots and fresh herbs.  (Recipe available upon request.)

Erev Cheers from the Skullies.