I sure liked the old Golfing Obama better than the Let's-see-how-much-shit-we-can-break-on-the-way-out-the-door Obama. I seem to remember the Democrats did the same thing last time, too, including the Lizard Queen herself purloining a quarter million dollars' worth of artwork and furniture. Stay classy, Democrats.
Fortunately, Mr. Obama can make all the pronouncements he wants, and they will simply be un-pronounced on Friday. And it's not like Federal bureaucrats are going to be working extra hard this week to make changes they'll be ordered to unmake.
Since Trump won and his GOP now holds the national reins, I have found that my interest in politics has plummeted pretty much to nil. Yes, they're going to take the blame for a lot of crap that is still baked into our national Burrito of Comeuppance™. But I sure feel a lot better about eating it with a right-wing government than a left wing one.
After careful consideration of the upcoming move from "picking berries" to "producing berries", I've decided to invest in a few thornless blackberry plants. Yeah, it would be easier and cheaper to simply transplant a bunch a wild blackberries from the field to the new trellis*, but the idea of fighting those thorns in an even more compact area just doesn't appeal.
On that subject, and I know it's January, but I may have to cook up a batch of blackberry jam this week. Though with as much jam as I already have lying about, I might just try to make syrup on purpose this time.
Even with water in various states of matter falling from the sky for the past 4 days, I didn't get time to clean out the barn. But I did get the workshop mostly done and the garden planned. I'm gonna need more beds, I think.
I'm also thinking about de-converting DiggingDog's ossuary into a potato barrel**. I'm not sure what to do with all the bones currently therein, however. Maybe build a cowapede skeleton from them.
And speaking of Irish, my mom sent off her spit-kit a few weeks ago and is awaiting the results with bated breath. It apparently bothered her no little bit that I was a lot more Irish and a lot less German than her asserted heritage would lead one to believe. As the old saying*** goes: never, ever do genealogy unless you like surprises.
* Which is actually just an old fence, so don't get excited.
** I heard this really cool idea about how if you plant potatoes in a barrel, you can get a lot of them in very little space.
*** Well, I say it and I'm old, so it's old by association.