My book club was here last night making signs for Saturday. I passed these out so so no one will know who we are.

Irving Berlin the immigrant? That guy?

When referring to people who are anti-Trump, don't fall into the trap of calling them "Antifa."

That is a loaded, mangled word. Call them what they are, "anti-fascists."

My favorite is BUTDIDYOUBUYCOFFEE

Yes, it's very scary here in Portland today as runners run the 2025 Portland Marathon!

In one of my favorite books, A Tale For The Time Being, by Ruth Ozeki, the teenage main character is taken to a mountain top by her Japanese grandmother and told not to return until she knows her purpose. Days later, she returns to her GM’s house and says, “My purpose is to feed mosquitoes.”

My book club in Houston is writing 200 postcards and sending them your way. 🤞

Is that something we sign up for at CVS or do we just show up at the nearest school?

Ha! I’m proof that you can never outgrow dyslexia

It’s in my living room. We changed the name of our book club to Antifa Local 8746. We made a sign and everything.

And wouldn’t they shoot *at* ice?????

If Uncle Mike were still sharing the planet, he’d offer you his front paws for a birthday dance. Happy birthday!

I painted the refrigerator in the laundry room, to cheer myself up when I come through the back door.

So if anti-fascists are Trump’s political enemies, what does that make Trump?

I remember seeing them in random places growing up in DC. I still say it sometimes but people just stare at me blankly.

My book club in Houston has written over 2000 postcards in the last year. New Jersey this week, Virginia next week. It helps us feel a tiny bit better about all the things we can’t control. And sitting around the table together may be the best part.

I’m a caterer. People pay me enormous sums of money but I eat all the food myself. That’s just how these things work.

The FBI right now could probably use all those experienced senior career professionals with decades of investigative experience that they fired for absolutely no reason.

My only comment for now.

Not a question, an appreciation. I was owed a substantial sum when the law recently changed. Instead of coding it as refund, it was coded as overpayment. I made a single call a few months ago. Last week the entire amount appeared in my bank account, thanks to a competent employee doing their job.

Had a lovely family vacation in the murder capital of America.

Gun violence is the number one cause of death of children and teens in America. Not food dyes. Not seed oils. Not vaccines. What is the Trump administration and RFK Jr. going to do about it? #MakeAmericaHealthyAgain

I’ll drive.

Huh. From shaking hands, you say? All my life, I’ve shaken hands palm to palm. Why did no ever have the kindness to tell me I was doing it wrong?

Kash Patel raided John Bolton's house early in the morning of the day we are supposed to get some Epstein files. He also tipped off reporters so they would all cover it all day.

Or maybe the Epstein files are in Mrs. Bolton's nightstand

Wait. Isn’t that his signature?

Honored to call her friend.

As always, an insightful 🧵 from YLE

My takeaway is #7 - <65 & not high risk but want the Covid-19 vaccine?
⚠️ Consider getting it this week before FDA label changes.

What’s "high risk”?
🔗 www.cdc.gov/covid/vaccin...
(Will “physical inactivity” still count? Could be an easier way to get the vax?🤷)

The First Madam of Texas 💙💙💙

Small Kindnesses by Danusha Laméris I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you” when someone sneezes, a leftover from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying. And sometimes, when you spill lemons from your grocery bag, someone else will help you pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other. We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot, and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder, and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass. We have so little of each other, now. So far from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange. What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here, have my seat,” “Go ahead—you first,” “I like your hat.”

This helped me today. Small Kindnesses, by Danusha Laméris