Tag Archives: life

And So It Goes

Today is Wednesday, November 19, 2025. It’s already late here because I’ve just returned from my very first meeting of Forest Hills Indivisible at a nearby church and also having a quick bite outside since I was unable to have dinner at home before the 7 p.m. meeting. This happened because I found myself waiting at my local ophthalmologist’s office for more than an half hour in order to be seen by a physician’s assistant before actually being seen by the eye specialist. My appointment was at 4:30, but I didn’t see (no pun intended) anyone until 5:15 or so. I actually got up at least twice to ask when I was being treated. Both times I was informed that the doctor would be seeing me in a few minutes and it still took awhile before I was called into an office.

But that’s not the reason I’m writing this. I wanted to provide some details about the anti-Dump meeting I attended right here at a church within five minutes of my house. I was very heartened to discover that the meeting was attended by about 40 people; all of the pews were occupied by people of all stripes – young, old, female, and male. When I entered the sanctuary before 7, I meekly asked if this was where the Forest Hills branch of Indivisible would be meeting. I was greeted by a well-dressed, bearded older gentleman who said, “Yes.” I entered the church and found a seat.

Soon more individuals walked in and took seats. I recognized a young man from my own building who lives in the adjacent section of the cooperative. However, he didn’t acknowledge me. I just knew him visually since I’ve seen him enter the Alden part of the building in times past.

A very large part of the meeting was devoted to listening from a representative of some immigrant rights group who talked very movingly about how this regime is illegally taking people off the streets. She stated that she herself is an immigrant – after emigrating to the country at age 6 from Mexico. She provided the group with details about recent ICE raids of various neighborhoods throughout the city and also handed out a small flyer covering what our rights are and what steps activists could take when ICE agents are observed lurking around. Basically, what we could do is just blow a whistle and take videos of their unlawful actions. This young woman also passed around pictures of men caught in an ICE raid on Canal Street. She also took questions from audience members before yielding the stage to one of the organizers who is friendly with our friend “Patricia.” Her name is “Joan.”

Joan then began speaking about strategies the group could adopt in lieu of having massive demonstration after demonstration. One such plan she talked about was having small groups of people ring doorbells of home owners in the neighborhood to give them a lawn sign that is clearly anti-ICE in essence. What Joan is encouraging us to do is engage in conversation with these individuals and see if they wouldn’t come over to our side. She also mentioned the possibility of holding signs aloft on pedestrian overpasses to get our message across to motorists. Joan did say that signs would be provided; we wouldn’t have to design our own.

The last speaker was the man who greeted me at the beginning of the meeting. His name was “Ian.” He mentioned that he would like for us to provide the group with our own ideas as to what next steps to take. Instead of coming up with their own ideas, people just asked Ian more questions.

In conclusion, Joan stated that the group will send out emails to those in attendance. The meeting was adjourned a little after 8:30 and some of us stayed talking about the asshole in charge of the government. One woman named “Dora” said she is involved with another group called Beacon that meets in front of MacDonald Park every Thursday for an hour at 4. I’m not sure what this group does, but I wouldn’t want to get involved with too many groups and spread myself too thin. I’d rather just stay with Forest Hills Indivisible and see if it meets my activist needs.

One funny moment came when the guy from my adjacent building made a case of using social media more frequently. At that point, the room was scanned for the white heads of both males and females sitting there until one older woman chimed in, saying that she could handle the social media aspect of getting our message out to a broader cross section of the population.

After the meeting, I walked to Queens Boulevard with someone from the group. She said her name was “Betty,” and she was from Ridgewood, Queens. She said she was a member of the Ridgewood chapter, but still wanted to attend the meeting here tonight. I informed her that I had to eat dinner out since I had no time to dine home before the meeting. We said our goodbyes near the subway station and I made my way to Shake Shack for a hamburger and fries.

As I type this, Lawrence O’Donnell is conversing with Boston’s Mayor Michelle Wu about the outrage caused by a fucking ICE raid at a Boston car wash. ICE is this president’s equivalent to Hitler’s Schutzstaffel, or SS. The more we grasp this reality, the more we can push back against this.

Tomorrow Elliot and I are meeting with “Rebecca” and “Taylor” at 7. Again, I might not be posting here tomorrow night, depending on how late we stay out with these two young individuals.

Have a good Thursday.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, November 2, 2025, the end of Daylight Saving Time. I always rage against this worthless practice that we engage in year in and year out without any attempt to correct it. Which would mean that this do-nothing Congress would finally put an end to changing the clock and letting nature do its part in giving us natural daylight.

The literature on this phenomenon always points to its negative health impacts, such as increased risks of stroke and obesity from disrupted circadian rhythms. Proponents of permanent standard time argue it aligns better with human biology. Permanent standard time could reduce health risks associated with time changes. Permanent daylight saving time could result in more evening sunlight in the winter months and may provide a benefit in terms of public safety, as studies show there are fewer fatal car accidents with more daylight in the evening. It appears that many researchers agree that the current system of changing clocks twice a year is the worst option from a health perspective, regardless of whether permanent standard or daylight time is chosen. As for this ever happening, don’t expect it to take shape during this terrible administration that cannot even pay federal workers now during a month-long government shutdown, but an attempt to make daylight saving time permanent did pass the Senate in 2022, but did not advance in the House of Representatives. Public opinion polls show that a majority of Americans favor eliminating the time change, though support for permanent standard time versus permanent daylight saving time is more divided. That is why I begrudgingly move the clocks back now and ahead an hour in March.

Yesterday Elliot and I spent a lovely evening in Jersey City at Temple Beth-El attending a gala for the dedication of a new social hall, funded in part by Elliot’s late aunt’s legacy. We used mass transit, taking the F to 34th Street where we transferred to the PATH and took the train to Journal Square. From there, we took a taxi to the synagogue on John F. Kennedy Boulevard. We were directed to take the stairs downstairs and we descended the steps to the designated area. Outside there was a table set up with the names of the invited guests and a wall with plaques designating the donors who generously donated to the renovation of the social hall. Elliot’s aunt’s name was etched on a plaque honoring her foundation. Then we walked into the dark interior of the room that was set up for dinner and dancing. We looked around for a table and we found one in the back. We then took some hors d’oeuvres that were proffered to us by a number of servers. The rabbi of the synagogue met us and thanked Elliot for his backing.

It was at this event that I shook the hand of Jim McGreevey who is now running for mayor of Jersey Center. You remember who Jim McGreevey is? He was the former governor of New Jersey in 2001 and was forced to resign the position after it was revealed that he engaged in an extramarital relationship with a man. There was that infamous press conference where he appeared with his wife, Dina Matos, in which he stated he was a gay man and that he was resigning his office. A divorce was granted the couple in 2008.

So it was this Jim McGreevey whose hand I shook. He and another candidate for mayor were at this event, and the other one is someone I wouldn’t know if I fell over him. The other candidate’s name is William O’Dea. Anyway, the brief engagement I had with McGreevey was quite funny. He doesn’t know me from Adam, as they say, but when he took my hand, he uttered that he thought he knew me from somewhere. I said that I’ve never met him before; I’m not even a New Jersey resident, I told him. That’s when he turned to talking to someone else who was at least a New Jersey voter. That was the extent of my brief conversation with him.

Here we also met another gay couple who are members of the shul. In fact, as soon as we entered the room, it was “James” who took my hand and talked very amicably throughout the evening. I didn’t even know who he was at first. And I couldn’t understand why he seemed so touchy-feely with me. The longer the evening progressed, it became clear. He started talking of his husband, “Morris,” who was at the event and where they enjoy traveling to. It was practically inevitable that we would exchange telephone numbers and emails. With the end of the gala looming, I finally met “Morris.” I didn’t have time to speak to him, as Elliot yearned to leave; it was a little after 10.

Unfortunately, the commute home took forever. We got into an Uber outside the synagogue and then took the train back to 33rd Street, where we transferred to the F. However, the ride to 33rd Street on the PATH took forever. The only distraction we had on this interminable ride back to New York was seeing the hordes of young people boarding the train in Halloween costumes. Both girls and men were decked out in weird and colorful getups. Even though it was November 1, a day after Halloween. People were still going to parties, it seemed, as many got off at Christopher Street.

We got home, finally, a little after 12. Much later than I thought, but heck, it was fun looking at the Halloween revelers. I even took a respite from reading Surviving Autocracy, by Masha Gessen, who writes incisively about the first Dump term. She uses the term “kakistocracy” to describe the kind of government we had during Dump’s first term, and here we are all over again during his second, worse term. I’ve even went back to rereading It Can’t Happen Here, by Sinclair Lewis, inspired by this Orange Turd’s second term. This novel is about fascism coming to America in 1935. Well, maybe it didn’t way back then, but it sure emerged in 2025.

Anyway, it’s getting late here.

It’s time to wish everyone a good week.

And so it went!

I forgot to mention that I baked today: an apple walnut cake. Here it is!

And So It Goes

Today is Monday, July 7, 2025. While the death toll from those central Texas flash flooding disaster has risen to at least 82 (since this writing), we have a pic of our disgusting president enjoying an ice cream cone in today’s online article from Irish Star by Debadrita Sur and Kai McDonald entitled “‘Heartless’ Trump captured enjoying ice cream while rescue workers desperately search for Texas flood victims.”

Deservedly so, the faux president, as I call him, received brutal backlash after a video of him engaging in leisure activities over the weekend emerged on social media as the search for more victims of the devastating Texas floods continues. There are 41 more missing victims after the Guadalupe River rose to the height of a two-story building early Friday morning.

An online right-wing watch X account, Patriot Takes, posted a video of their stupid Supreme Leader, donning a ghastly red Make America Great Again, golfing and enjoying ice cream. He’s fat already; he doesn’t need to add any more weight to his stocky bulk.

The account posted this statement about the horrible optics of the fat president eating ice cream: “Trump was golfing and enjoying ice cream this weekend while search and rescue teams were in Texas looking for child flood victims.”

Another X user posted this: “While Texas was drowning and children were missing in catastrophic floods, Trump was out golfing and indulging in ice cream like it was just another weekend. At a time when leadership meant showing up, coordinating rescue efforts, and putting politics aside, he chose distraction and leisure.” The user went on, saying what so many millions of us have been saying all of these fucking years about this monster, “Too little, too late. This isn’t leadership. It’s callous neglect. While families grieve and communities are shattered, Trump’s priorities are clear: himself, not the American people. Shameful.”

Dump’s own “busy” schedule showed that he had no public events scheduled. Of course, this clown’s very supporters still backed him, despite the evidence to the contrary that truly showed his lack of empathy for the scores of flood victims in his own country. Some nitwit [read: Trump supporter] posted this in defense of the useful idiot: “He does have a Cabinet and Administration, you know. After Biden’s 4 years of zero responsibility for anything, it’s best that you cease commenting on Trump’s Performance, isn’t it?” Does this jerk know what he’s writing about and why bring in the previous president who definitely would have flown to Texas as soon as it was possible; he would not be shown having an ice cream cone and golfing like this asshole.

Thus the “president” has yet to visit Texas in the wake of the floods, but claims he will “probably” travel to the Lone Star State later this week. I won’t hold my breath.

In defense of this golfer in chief, he did sign a major disaster declaration for Kerr County on Saturday morning “due to damage resulting from severe storms, straight-line winds, and flooding beginning on July 2.” Oh, it was Texas Governor Gregg Abbott who requested him to do it. So maybe he might have gone golfing instead if he didn’t get that missive from Abbott.

An update on the flooding in Texas: now more than 100 people have died in the wake of this horrible natural disaster. And our president licks an ice cream cone.

As for me, I will be out having dinner tomorrow with my Manhattan cousins “Rivka” and “Dillon.” We have reservations at Bottega Restaurant on 2nd Avenue at 7. So I’m not sure I’ll be home in time to post my blog.

As for Wednesday, I plan to spend the entire day with my Long Island friend, “Jake.” He usually has me join his trivia night group at 8 or so, so I won’t be home until after midnight.

My next blog should be posted on Thursday then. Let’s cross our fingers then.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Friday, April 4, 2025. I know, I said I might not be here, but here I am. I did not stay in Manhattan as I said I probably would because I was standing on my feet for over two damn hours at a DMV office on West 31st Street waiting to hand in my application for a Real ID. And here I supposedly had a definite appointment at 1:15, but that was all bullshit, as I certainly passed that appointed time within a half hour or so. I was allowed to come up to the office even though I was about 40 minutes early. I had to first fill out an application which I handed in and was given a ticket with a number on it: LU220 (I had this number for so long that I remembered it without any difficulty). I was quite shocked when my number was called within minutes; how did I know that this was only the first procedure of a two-hour-and-fifteen-minute ordeal where I stood on my poor feet for that long a time. I went to Counter 24 after eating on line for about 15 minutes; this was only the picture-taking line, not my actual appointment with a DMV clerk. I had to get off the line and wait until LU220 was called again. Luckily, I met a fellow traveler standing on her feet like I and we commiserated together for those two hours. Instead of having LU as her first two letters, she had LN. I believe her number was LN085. We were taking gentleman’s bets as to which number was going to be called first: hers or mine.

When my number was finally called, I hastened to Counter 16 and took my Strand bag and my folder containing all of my documents that I expected to hand in to the clerk reviewing my application. In it, I had my birth certificate, my moldering Social Security card, my passport, and two recent bills with my address on it. I still had some anxiety that these documents were not enough in order to get my Real ID approved, so I could get it before the May 7 deadline. I thought this because the woman who I was talking to in the office had more than five forms of identification – with tax documents with her as well.

However, when I saw the staff member assigned to my case, I could see that she was not one to be feared. I handed her my application, and she asked for the proofs of identification that I had with me, and she basically approved every one. She looked at my driver’s license and mentioned that it was expiring on my birthday this year. Oops, I didn’t notice that! I thought it was good for a few more years; I was wrong. I didn’t have to sweat over being denied this new form of domestic travel identification since she said everything was copacetic. I just had to pay for the darn thing, which turned out to be about $80. I thought it was less, but who am I to know these things. I mentioned to the clerk that my husband had no intention of even applying for a Real ID since he was comfortable carrying his passport around all the time. This is when I told her that is was usually I who was responsible for carrying these documents for the both of us and that I didn’t want to do this without this new form of identification because it’s just another opportunity to lose your passport. She laughed when I said this. Then I asked her how long will I have to wait for my new ID; she answered, “two weeks.”

When I got to the counter, I looked to my right and the woman whom I was talking to was at Counter 17. So she was called, surprisingly, at around the same time as I.

I think I left the office around 3:15; I felt I needed to have a bite to eat. So I ambled up 8th Avenue looking for a place to have lunch. I almost walked into the Tick Tock Diner, but their prices scared me away. So I selected a bagel joint instead, where I just had a sesame bagel with strawberry cream cheese and a coffee; that cost over $9, which wasn’t cheap either. I certainly didn’t need the strawberry cream cheese, that’s for sure.

After my little repast, I decided to walk to Midtown Comics, on West 40th Street. I walked up the stairs to the store’s second floor and browsed the establishment for something to purchase. I couldn’t find anything, so I exited the store and called Elliot to say I wanted to come home instead of going to see a play. He welcomed my decision to return home rather than wait on line at the TKTS booth to find a play to see. I decided against staying out because of all the documents that I had in my bag that I worried about losing if I had stayed out until 10 or 11.

When I got home, we left around 5:30 to take the subway to Elmhurst where we walked to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner. We decided against driving since there were no parking spots by the restaurant. This was only a few stops on the Queens local.

After dinner, we lounged around a little in the Queens Mall and walked through Macy’s. When we got tired, we exited the mall and took the subway home.

Instead of writing this blog, we decided to watch The Man Who Would Be King, based on the Rudyard Kipling novella from 1888. This adventure film starred Sean Connery and Michael Caine as two rogue ex-soldiers, former noncommissioned officers in the British Army, who set off from late 19-century British India in search of adventure and end up in faraway Kafiristan, where one is taken for a god and made their king. The film was directed by John Huston. We watched about an hour of the film before Elliot got up to say he was leaving for the bedroom.

That’s when I chose to write my blog. I wanted to provide my DMV story for your edification.

Tomorrow then marks a day of protest! I do hope to make it, as two of my group members stated they hope to participate. Now Elliot has indicated he might join me after the demonstration, so it’s tomorrow I might not post my blog, if we go to TKTS to see a play.

So have a good Saturday.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Thursday, March 13, 2025. It’s late here, owing to Elliot and me seeing our two adopted “nieces” at a lovely – but noisy – restaurant in Sunnyside, Queens. The name of the restaurant is SoleLuna and is located at 40-01 Queens Boulevard, right under the El. We intended to take the subway to the locale where we expected to have no trouble taking the E or F to Roosevelt Avenue and then changing to the 7.

However, when we got to the station, we saw people walking out of there and informing us that service was terminated because someone was struck by a train. Huh! We didn’t enter the station and started for the Q60 bus across the street when a commuter told me that we could take that bus to Queens Boulevard and 40th Street. When we got to the bus stop, there was a swarm of people left stranded by no subway service and I decided to call one of my nieces, “Elizabeth.” I explained the situation to her and she informed me that this incident didn’t just happen. It might have occurred as early as 3 and she opined that the passenger who was struck by a hurtling train was in fact “surfing” the train he was in and probably fell off. However, this has not been verified; I’m just reporting it here from what she supposedly learned. That’s when Elliot and I grudgingly decided to now drive to the restaurant. The car was parked right in front of the building; I just had to dart upstairs to get the car keys.

So now I had to drive our new car at night. Even though it wasn’t totally dark when we started out for Sunnyside. I turned on GPS from the car and drove exactly where the GPS voice told me where to go. What was totally bonkers was that we got to the restaurant within 15 minutes or so and we got to the area before our two nieces got there, Elizabeth and “Rae.” We did find parking close to the eatery – on the island right by the El. I’m elated that I looked at the signs indicating that the meters were still in effect until 10 p.m. These meters did not go off at 7, which is what I thought. If we walked away from the car without feeding the meter, we would have definitely have gotten our first ticket on this car. But we avoided that!

We got to SDoleLuna around 7:20 or so and mentioned our niece’s name in which the reservation was made under. We thought we were going to have five people, but the host said that four persons were actually coming. We didn’t know that. We were ushered to a rear table that sat four people. The host said if there were another person in the group, we would have been moved to another table.

When our “nieces” did arrive, a little after 7:30, we did in fact see only two other individuals: Elizabeth and Rae and not Rae’s fiancé, “Taylor.” We hugged and kissed them when they got to the table. Rae did say that Taylor was unable to attend this gathering since he was working late. We said that was too bad. I had actually brought two issues of Fantastic Four for him to peruse at the table, but I said to Rae that I would give them to her at the end of the evening. I made it clear that they were not a gift; they were being loaned to Taylor for the time being.

The big news of the night was our nieces’ announcement that their father, a polymath by the name of “Ralph” was mulling a run for Congress from the state of Pennsylvania. We scratched our heads when we heard this stunning news. But it makes sense! Ralph as been devastated – like millions of others – by the direction this country has taken within the last two months with the election of an idiotic despot, so we said, “Why not?” Ralph has more or as many qualifications for seeking political office than the ninety-nine percent of cretins already in Congress – cretins like Marjorie Taylor Greene, Lauren Boebert, et al. He has a degree from Princeton University, is a licensed engineer, has written several books, has played in a rock band many years ago, writes for my political journal, The Banter, and is as left-leaning as they come. Of course, detractors will label him as “elitist,” but he will never give up his principles like so many ugly repugnicans with the same sort of ivy-league education that they turned their cowardly backs on in deference to the mighty appeals of political power. People like Josh Hawley, Ted “Ooze,” JD Vance, and a numbing number of other repugnicans who have held on to power in the age of Dump.

After the shock of Ralph running for Congress wore off, we finally perused our menu and ordered dinner. For starters, we ordered burrata and polpette for our appetizers, which were very tasty. My entree consisted of pesto pappardelle and Elliot ordered the same dish. The girls ordered something different which they devoured pretty nicely. No one asked for doggie bags at this meal.

For dessert, we ordered the chocolate mousse which looked like a ball of chocolate. It was more a creamy pudding than anything else. It too was very good.

My main criticism of SoleLuna was the acoustics which made it difficult to hear our nieces throughout the conversation. I had to ask Rae and Elizabeth to repeat what they said several times during our time in the restaurant. I would gladly overlook this defect because of the quality of their cuisine.

After we paid the check, we walked outside to the car since the girls hadn’t seen the new Subaru until now. I made the comment that since driving it, I can’t distinguish it from other similar models on the road. At least our old Nissan Altima was a distinctive color – light blue – and there weren’t as many out there as this Forrester.

We volunteered to take Rae back to Taylor’s apartment in Astoria. She put on GPS and I obeyed the commands to the letter getting Rae safely to her destination. We said good night when I got her there.

It was not difficult getting home since Elliot knew the way. We got home safely and we parked the car in the garage.

It was a very pleasant evening. Sorry to hear about the subway incident. I’m sure I will hear the details about this subway incident tomorrow, but as of now, I’ll just say “and so it went!”

And So It Goes

Today is Saturday, March 8, 2025. Well, I did have my group meeting today and there was no need to be nervous since only two people attended. Originally, I was expecting four, so two dropped out for whatever reason. Unfortunately, I had no one’s cell phone number in order to contact them if such an exigency developed. Thus I was on my own at Albert’s Bar on 41st Street.

To get to the designated rendezvous, I left the borough pretty early: around 1:15 or so. I took the E train to 53rd Street and Lexington Avenue and switched to the 6 local downtown train and got off at 42nd Street. I then walked down to 41st, but it was only a little past 1:30, so I ducked into a Le Pain Quotidien for coffee and a croissant. Even downing this repast, I was still early, so I began my search for the bar and found it very easily. It was right off Lexington Avenue. This time I walked to 3rd Avenue and slipped into a CVS where I picked up a bottle of water. I thought I packed everything that I needed for the meeting: notebooks, pens, markers, articles, name tags, etc., but I left bottled water at home.

Soon it was a quarter to 3; I determined it was time to walk to the site and enter and talk to someone about getting a quiet table or room. At that time, I had no idea how many members were really coming. I talked to a bearded chap who informed me that their separate room was already booked. So I just sat down at the circular bar and waited. I think that by 3, I recognized one attendee by his picture on the website. I was correct in assuming he was a member. Here “Stanley” walked through the revolving door and met me by the bar. I shook his hand and introduced myself. I actually put on a name tag before the appointed hour. I was still expecting three more people by then.

Stanley took a seat at the bar and we immediately conversed about the group. Within a half hour or so, we decided to take a booth since no one came through the door to attend the meeting. We were then given menus by the waitress and we told her we were still waiting for others. Checking my phone rather casually, I saw a text from “Paul” who came to my February meeting in Rego Park. He asked if we were still there, and I replied we sure were. He was just a block away and texted me that he was coming. Within a few minutes, I recognized him outside the restaurant, so I walked over to him by the entrance and took him back to the booth.

Thus began this very casual, informal meeting among three individuals. I told both gentlemen that I was going to start by reading the quote from a French senator who aptly captured the zeitgeist of our Dumpian age. I handed out the notebooks that I intended to give to the other attendees. I even distributed the article that I copied yesterday, with suggestions as to how to get more involved. However, the conversation was more casual befitting the number of people attending the meeting, which was fine with me. Eventually, we all ordered something off the menu; I ordered chicken pot pie and so did Stanley. I couldn’t really tell what Paul ordered. I did order coffee – what else?

By 5:15, we exhausted the trove of subjects to be discussed like linking up with other organizations, the things the Orange Blob was doing to wreak American democracy, what we expected to get out of the group, and we even discussed seeing comedy shows. I stated this is a great time to see any comedian because of what is going on right now in this country. Stanley provided some names of YouTube channels we might be interested in.

I discussed having another meeting, but this time in two weeks, on Saturday, March 29. I also asked that they provide feedback as to where we could meet if Albert’s Bar wasn’t deemed satisfactory by them. I must say I had a little trouble hearing both Stanley and Paul because of the large table of revelers in front of us making merry. So this location was definitely not a quiet nook in the restaurant.

That’s it, folks. I wish more people had attended, but Paul commented that what I was doing was all right. He didn’t criticize anything I was doing to get people into the organization. I considered this to be somewhat of a compliment, given his long history of activism. He said that this could take a little longer to get off the ground. I’m just wondering where the other 23 people were hiding. Well, as the old saying goes, “Rome wasn’t built in a day!”

I’m dreading the beginning of DST, which is tomorrow. So don’t forget to move your cocks , er, clocks, ahead, folks.

See you tomorrow – maybe. On the first day of DST, I’m not happy that we have to set the alarm in order to see Elliot’s daughters tomorrow morning since they’re visiting their mother on the Island. Don’t get me wrong, I do love seeing them, but did it have to be the day we lose an hour of sleep and have to get into a car so early? We’re supposed to meet them at 11. Because of that commitment, I will try to get to sleep a little earlier tonight. No more hitting the hay at 2:30 or later. At least not when we move the clocks.

And so it went!