I had a good time writing about my cannabis experiment and am determined to meditate while using it. This is an experiment for me, and I know there is something there, even with the very small 5 mg gummy bears I bought. They are not cheap, but I’m game to try them; many people are ahead of me.

It got warm this afternoon, but I went outside to take some photos. I’m sort of addicted to it; a beautiful way to end every day. I always think I’ll fail to fund something, but I always do. I don’t wish to fear the fear.

Maria is coming home from belly dancing soon, and I’m cooking some vegan quiche for the two of us. I miss her, but I love my quiet evenings also.

I’m tired; it’s time to rest, cook dinner, and maybe watch all or part of a British Mystery, the best mysteries there are. We looked at a new one called A Commander on Britbox/Amazon; it started great and ended up as one of the dumbest detective and police shoes we’ve ever seen. We aren’t going back to that one. The best procedures focus on a murder, an investigation, and an arrest.

That was Agatha Christie’s formula, and it works every time – Inspector Lewis, Endeavour,  Morse, Poirot, Endeavor, and my favorite, Adam Dalgleish – but there is a feeling they must be made complex, violent, disturbing, and wildly confusing. We see more about the new detectives’ endlessly tangled’ emotional lives.  I sound like an old fart, but these screwy new shoes are not making it; the older ones are.

It’s not brain surgery; it doesn’t have to be endlessly, violently disturbing, or creepy to be real. I predict women are revolutionizing the genre. They seem to respect the old mysteries more than the new ones from male directors and producers. They are not creative, suspenseful, or beautiful to watch.

Purple Soul

Bee at work

Hanging begonias

Pink artwork

Morning Mist, Cleaning Out The Barn, Every Morning