I woke up to a spectacular sunrise and got outside just in time; wow, was it cold? Our weekend started oddly but settled down. We went to a concert in town on Saturday, and when we returned on Saturday, we found that the show went from 5 to 7 p.m., an odd time for a Saturday concert, so we missed both of them.

It turned out that the concert drew a big crowd at 5 p.m., and most were gone when we got there, which was around 7. Live and learn.

We did have Shift pizza and salad both nites in a row,  did a lot of reading and some streaming. The food wagon was parked outside the brewery where the concert was held, so we ate well. It was our fault; we didn’t read the information closely enough online, but I have to say I wondered why anyone would schedule a concert for 5 p.m. on a Saturday.

It never occurred to us to look more closely, but apparently, it happens often..

My bad. Today, we pulled things together. We had brunch at a friend’s house, got the time right, and had a great brunch and three hours of excellent conversation. All we could do was shake our heads and laugh.

 

We talked quite a bit about Prince Harry’s new book Spare and his global marketing blitz as the royal victim.

Our friend liked it a lot, but I am turned off by the whining and self-pity vibes I’m picking up.

I had a nightmare of a family, but I could never bring it on myself to trash them in so personal and vengeful a way in public. Harry’s complaining about the invasions of privacy endangering his family doesn’t fit with somebody who is cranking out very individual complaints about his family and signing a deal for a $20 million book.

He and his wife are millionaires many times over. I never imagined family troubles could be so lucrative. In our world, nothing can’t be exploited and converted to cash.

Harry couldn’t draw more attention to himself and his family without dancing naked in Times Square. I can’t even blink at the news without seeing another tell-all interview with him. His complaints are boundless, and he has a fresh one for every discussion.

This is not a person who is looking to be left alone.

He’s earning his $20 million, whining all over the planet. My friend was drinking it up; she thinks he’s a sweetie just mourning his mom. Millions of people agreed. I am not one of them.

I’m skipping the book, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and I haven’t read it. I did read a few excerpts—enough for me. I’m sure the Prince suffered horribly in the wake of his mother’s death, yet I don’t think he needs another $30 from me to write about the frostbite on his penis.

This all sounds too carefully crafted for me.

It is bitterly cold here today. When we got home, I took Zinnia out for a ball-throwing session; my fingers were numb when we got inside. I will watch some of Cafe Lena’s free musical celebration of Dr. King’s life. I’m onto a neat new British mystery as well.

On our way back from the brunch, we stopped at a new deli/coffee shop in North Bennington, Vt., and came home with some Sherpa Dumplings, one vegetable, and one chicken. I’m excited about dinner. Tomorrow is a holiday; I will blog and hope to write something about racism in America that has meaning and avoids knee-jerk ranting.

I don’t know if I can do it. I will try. He was a remarkable man, and we could sure use him now. Maybe something simple, which was the way he wrote. I honored him for his work fighting for us to be a decent, compassionate, and just nation.

I wonder how long it will take Governor DeSantis to ban the holiday in Florida and punish people who are “woke” enough to observe it.

 

 

I had a tussle with the old white hen last night. When I went to close her into the roost, she tried to jump out, perhaps thinking I had some food. It was brutally cold, and I didn’t want to go outside again, so I grabbed her and shoved her back into the roost amidst much-outraged clucking from the chief Imperious Hen.

She came running up and glowering when I left the car this afternoon.

“What do you want?” I asked, “Round Two?” I think she did.

I never claim to know what is in the mind of a chicken. But I could swear she was heading for me to resume the battle. I walked steadily but quickly into the house.

Nothing good ever came of annoying an Imperious Hen.

 

 

Two images of dusk, above and below. A neat way to close off a cold but beautiful day.

 

More later