Tag Archives: Donald Trump

The 4th of July and Communism

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On this 4th of July and the 250th birthday of the United States, I wonder how my American friends and relatives are celebrating this Independence Day. I read the words spoken by Donald J. Trump on this day.

“Yet, as we approach this magnificent anniversary,” he said, “we see our American identity under a renewed attack a generation after we fought and won the Cold War against the menace of communism. There is now a resurgence of the communist menace in our land, including from newcomers to our country who embrace ideas totally opposed to our way of life and our great success.”

It is hard to feel that all lives matter in the States, no matter how many people echo that sentiment. I wonder why this fear of communism by the West here. Where is this fear coming from and for what purpose. Truth and morality are hard to find. So much false news everywhere. I found this definition of communism.

“Communism is a political and economic ideology that advocates for a classless, stateless society based on the public or communal ownership of all property and major industries. It aims to eliminate private ownership entirely, ensuring wealth is distributed among citizens equally or strictly based on individual need. “

To me it sounds like a good thing. By definition, I don’t think there’s any country that has achieved that state. The wealth is certainly not equally distributed in any country. So much poverty and homelessness. I wonder how many shelters and mouths could be fed by the cost of the Iran war.

Enough of wondering the whys and wherefores. I am having a busy day in the garden growing food. I spent a good hour, checking, cleaning and pruning my cabbages and broccoli. I found a few more white cabbage butterfly eggs and two caterpillars. The plants are looking much better with a haircut. There was too much foliage and the leaves were so big. I went on to trim the bed of tomatoes. Now everybody has room to breathe.

It’s hard to stop once I got started in the garden. I went on to harvest some snow peas and haspkap berries. Seeing how big the rhubarb and sprawly the goji berry bush were, I harvested them, too. Now I am sipping on tea made from the goji berry leaves.

There’s more work yet. I better end this post. My next stop is at the community garden to weed, stake up the snow peas and water. I had thought the thunderstorm missed us. I was wrong. No storm right here but our allotment garden got hit. The news is good. It looks recoverable.

Struggling

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I have been consumed with garden and yard work for the last few days. I’m ready for some rest. The only way to do it is not to step outside because once I do, I get called in so many directions. The work outside is so much easier than the work inside. I’m resisting the calls. Sometimes it is hard when the sun comes out as it has now. I’m tempted to step out to see what is happening. There’s also dark clouds overhead. It is close to lunch time. I better stay and stir up something to eat instead.

I struggled making lunch. It would be easier to slap two sandwiches together. I want to make a better effort since the greenhouse has produced some snow peas. It’s good to make a tasty stirfry using things we grew. So I suffered the pain, chopping up our home grown garlic and onion. I diced some store bought ginger and chopped celery from the Co-op. Our celery are still pretty small. First I fried the garlic, then tossed in the onion and ginger. Next was the pork cut in small pieces. The snow peas and celery came last. It was worth the effort. It was a very tasty meal.

I’m struggling writing this post. I’ve been fighting off sleepiness since after lunch. It’s difficult but I haven’t given in. I know how Donald Trump feels. Lucky I’m a few years younger and probably healthier. That brings up another thing. I am appalled and disgusted at how corrupt he and his merry gang are. Where is their conscience? They look like a bunch of gangsters. What flows in their veins? And talking about being appalled and disgusted, I’ve just became aware of the 2 recent incidences of domestic violence.

  1. The Shreveport shooting on April 19, 2026. 8 children between 3 and 11 were killed. 7 were the gunman’s children, one was his nephew.
  2. April 16, 2026 Justin Fairfax, former Lt. Governor of Virginia shot his wife and then himself.

It’s no wonder I struggle. I read nothing but bad news stories. Are there any good news? Seems like most news are fake. Then there’s the weather. It is just plain unpredictable. After a couple of weeks of heat, it is all over. We are in the cool and cloudy stretch. The sun does come out to tease you now and then. And you never know what to wear. This morning was jacket and glove kind of weather. At least I am not sweating it.

Fascination

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It is a sunny April 4th. I’m always fascinated how the morning and sun changes everything. the world is not quite so dark and I don’t feel quite as bad. I think my cold broke during the night and I am heading towards feeling better and better. Though the world is not better but even worse today, it is fascination that I feel. In Caroline Myss words, we are living in the age of the unthinkable and unimaginable.

Aren’t you just fascinated watching how Donald Trump, the President of the United States and Pete Hegseth, the Secretary of War are behaving and talking? Aren’t you just fascinated that they are running a war? It isn’t a Hollywood movie though it feels much like one. Most of all, I am fascinated that I am so focused on all this whereas before I had no interest in politics. I am really just an artsy fartsy person at heart. Perhaps I am waking up to the world around me. It is time for me to pay some attention and do whatever I can to help.

It is Easter weekend here in the Americas. We’re thinking about turkeys and hams. Then I think about the ‘they’ in the Middle East. I’m thinking of the civilians. Their country is being bombed. In my mind’s eye, I see the rubble falling on the children’s heads. It must be so terrifying. And here I sit, safe and comfortable, in my sunroom. I am not feeling the pain or trauma of life torn apart.

Perhaps I am too serious. Perhaps I shouldn’t be saying all this. But this is who I am. It is hard for me to be silent on things that matter to me. I am often surprised I still keep talking my heart when I get misunderstood and do not get much support. As I’ve often said myself, I am like a dog with a bone. I used to think that as a negative trait. I beat myself up on it. My vision has changed and I quite like that part of me now. Isn’t life fascinating – how it and we can change?

Nostalgia and Bad Dreams

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A sunny March afternoon. There are so many things that I could be doing. I just don’t feel like it. I’m like a petulant child having a quiet little tantrum by myself. I wonder how and what you all out there are doing. Probably all better and having more fun than me. I am reminded of summer holidays of long ago in Maidstone. The town is super quiet. School is out. The farmers are in the field. Everyone else is at the lake or just out of town. Everyone, except us, the Chinese people running the cafes. I’m remembering how lonely and isolated I felt as a child and teenager. We seldom went anywhere except to North Battleford to the dentist or optometrist when needed.

I wonder if that is why I don’t like fun. I prefer cuddling up at home with a book. We didn’t have a library in Maidstone back then. A library on a bus comes once every so often. I could also order books from the library in Regina. They send them on the Greyhound bus. The books I remember are Little House on the Prairie, Trixie Belden and the Hardy Boys. I love reading movie star magazines and Superman comic books. I would stop at the corner store on the way home from school and browse the racks. Sometimes I would get a pack of gum, the ones with movie star cards in them. One summer I bought Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities at the drugstore. I was in high school then and desperate for reading material. We didn’t have Facebook then. It was a hard read. That I remember.

Now there’s too much to read and all at my fingertips. I’m over satiated by Donald Trump buffooneries. Surely he must know and hear what he is saying. I am wondering if they are all a deliberate act to draw attention away from something more serious and sinister. Surely if he carries on much longer, could they not impeach him for mental derangement? Seriously I find everything too absurd to be real. Did Trump really call Gavin Newsom the president of the United States? Did he forget who himself was? I wonder if I had fallen down the rabbit hole and sustained a head injury. And all this is just a bad dream. I wonder how I can wake up.

POURING OUT MY HEART

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I’ve learned from experience to go with my flashbulb moments.  I got that ‘pouring out my heart’ moment yesterday morning. That’s what I did. I poured out my heart on my little index card. It turned out well. I like it even better this morning after all the paints have dried. I love the texture of the layers and the boldness of the colours. This morning I was moved by the leaves of my philodendron. I went with the green leafy feelings and started pouring with the green. It is not quite finished. It is not yet named. I’m not sure if it is to my liking. However, I do love that process of just pouring intuitively. Whatever does that mean? I have no idea. I was just ‘going with the flow’. Maybe I can be clearer about it tomorrow.

One thing I know for sure is: Listening to Donald Trump is poison for the heart. What kind of President of the United States would slam Christine Blasey Ford’s testimony of sexual abuse? I know- the Donald kind. I had to slam the door shut to him and his cheering audience. Best that I concentrate of heart healthy activities that builds bridges to understanding instead of dividing. It is not always easy. Darkness can be persuasive, loudness so commanding. Before I know it, I can be swept over. That’s my weakness. I can be had.

I know I’m easily swayed.  Sometimes I agonized over things that have no right or wrong. I tittered back and forth on things of no consequence. Since I’m having luck with ‘intuitive’ painting, I’ve started applying it to every day living. Yesterday my body told me I should rest and not take a pounding at my step aerobics class. My body said yes. Then my brain started to interfere. I listened to them both and said, we’re staying home. There’s no hint of a leaf in the painting except the green. It is not finished. It could still emerge. I am not yet finished. I am just starting to have fun and pushing the paint and listening to my intuitive self. I am exercising my heart and soul.