Mystic Springs Cove, Airstream Park, Outside Pensacola (Waiting Out the Guvmint Shutdown)

It doesn’t get a whole lot better than this. We sit here in something like solitude, listening to Sam Cooke and Ben E. King, sipping world class Pinot Grigio box wine, while digesting a feast of grilled tuna with creamy horseradish sauce and some side swordfish along with shrimp fried rice.

To be honest with you, although we are full, I am full of it. We are trying to make the best of a sad situation: The Shutdown has closed Fort Pickens (operated by the National Park Service) thus Kat is deprived of her long walks on the beach. We both have to drive 30 miles to Joe Patti’s for that incredibly fresh seafood that makes our good meals magnificent. But the treatment our civil servants are getting – on a selective basis – is wrong, counter-productive, and shameful. Three weeks after Christmas is a terrible time to miss a paycheck or two. And those gals and guys had nothing to do with The Trump Shutdown. It’s one thing to be not guilty and another to be innocent.

To catch you up, we have all been well, feeling as good as senior citizens have a right to expect, and enjoyed a lovely Thanksgiving in Kentucky. It took more than two weeks after Election Day for the smoke to clear and the recounts to be settled. I am so proud that Nancy Pelosi is now in a position to stymie and check The Turtle at every turn … except judges. The changing of the guard in the House makes it much more difficult to keep Mueller’s facts away from the public, and with just two years to go, we should all feel joy at the prospect of America’s constitutional democracy surviving a madman in the White House.

Kat and I spent Christmas in Tennessee with The Jule and Aunt Grayce, plus Ru-ru the one-eyed white Pekingese and Dilly, one bad-ass parrot who bit the wax out of Jule more than once. We cooked some first-rate grub for the occasion (filet Mignon, roasted asparagus, and Duchesse Potatoes), so Dilly wasn’t the only one who ate well. Boxing Day, December 26, was once again a feast day which gave me an opportunity to enjoy a few glasses of someone else’s Famous Grouse Scotch. It mystifies me how Jerry has left it alone for me, but perhaps he just likes me a little more than fine Scotch whiskey. But he and I are on good terms, I think.

We passed a fine afternoon on New Year’s Day in a Pensacola watering hole which broadcast LSU and unbeaten, since 2016, Central Florida. The Tigers whupped ‘em good and ended the season ranked #6 in the country.  This has been a fine year for Tiger recruiting, and if they can hire Ishmael Sopsher from Amite to man the defensive line, this will be their best recruiting class since a couple of Les Miles’ best years. While no one knows if Sopsher can live up to his #1 in the country rank on the DL, you and I know that at worst, we will have a few years when football interviewers ask Sopsher a question, any question … and he could reply with “Call me Ishmael.” But hey, does this guy look like an English major?

2 thoughts on “Mystic Springs Cove, Airstream Park, Outside Pensacola (Waiting Out the Guvmint Shutdown)

    1. Okay. You goaded me into doing something I like to do. So here is a blog about nothing, but it’s nowhere as good as Seinfeld. The simple life is just not that interesting. But we try to stay amused, and thanks for waking me up.

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