Painted the door to the garage. Katie and I put on two coats yesterday, and one today. Funny how a little thing like that can make you feel better.

Of course, the previous occupants left the door a completely hideous mustard yellow, with cottage stencils in red and green, and the word welcome. Hmm.... welcome to our garage? Well, ok.

That door was a continuous small irritant. Now it's a dark brown, a neutral, pleasant color to me. Maybe one day, the next occupants will find it totally unbearable, but hey, it's my house. I expect to be here a while. So for a few years, anyway, it might as well reflect my taste.

Beginning to get things back in order after our vacation. Next Wednesday, the Amaranth fireworks sale begins, and it's already claiming planning time. It's our main fundraiser, letting us pay rent for our meetings, make donations to diabetes research, and otherwise continue our existence. It's my favorite of our fundraisers, too -- I enjoy working at the stand. It's well shaded and airy, and people who buy fireworks are happy and excited. We have a good time.

This year, I'm responsible for organizing it. I keep thinking of more details I need to attend to. It's coming along.

So, in my own way, I go on, cultivating my own garden, doing what good I can locally.

It's possible someone might interpret the previous entry as saying I'd argue with Wil Wheaton's politics if I had the energy. Not so. As further clarification, I offer the following, written back when I had the energy.

A sparrow trilled at sunrise you had gone to spank the sea
Gone to force your praises from the wild and foaming sea
Fooling half the people made you king from sea to sea
But you’ll never pull false praises from the wide unblinking sea
You let more filth into the air -- don’t we breathe the same as you?
Two million lost their jobs, but that’s no concern to you
While our soldiers die in Baghdad for stories told by you
America is strong enough to go alone, says you
For the smoke and the ashes are the price of being free
While your friends get tax breaks to drive SUVs for free
The Patriot Act steals rights away -- a strange way to be free
It’s becoming ever clearer, it’s from you I would be free
For the piper is totalling the price of what you do
And there’s none but you to pay it when the final check comes due.

Catching up on some blogs this morning. I feel like such a poser. A lame inconsistent low energy irresponsible slacking poser.

And there I go, breaking my resolution to be kinder to myself, too.

Listened to one of Wil Wheaton's audio blogs today. His voice has changed much more than his face since ST:TNG. I wouldn't have recognized it. Followed the link to the interview here, where he expresses so much political passion that the web mag put a disclaimer on it. I can't summon enough energy to make an argument out of it. Just drowning in -- what is it, anyway? Fatigue? Politesse? Despair? Not quite apathy. A complete disbelief that I can make any difference. Maybe tomorrow.

Or maybe it's work I'm drowning in. Massive housework, Amaranth drudge, stacks and stacks of papers and reading material that sounded like a good idea in some petrified past, the complete impossibility of exercise and good food and getting enough sleep.

Generally not good. So.

Another day, another day, another day.