Blogger's Block

There it is again. Blogger’s block, that is. There are so many interesting stories in the news these days yet so few of them appeal to me. I mean, there’s Trump, but I’ve already said quite a bit about him. After one touches on his arrogance, his lack of grace, his outlandish hairstyle, his downturned mouth that seems to scowl at everything and everyone, what more is there to say? Soon, I hope, we’ll see the last of him. The acts of terror by ISIS, the horror and stupidity of which are apparent and undecipherable, are newsworthy, but I’ve already said how little understanding I have of what motivates them. The upcoming Oscars next Sunday. The books I’ve read, the movies I’ve seen. Yawn. Well, in light of the fight over the San Bernardino cell phone that needs to be opened and that Apple says they won’t open, there’s one thing I might mention. On last night’s The Good Wife, a band of NSA hackers were listening in on conversations via Alicia’s cell phone. Apparently they had the ability to turn her phone into a speaker, recording sounds from up to twenty feet away. A speaker even though the phone was turned off. Now that’s really scary if true. Talk about an invasion of privacy. I’d hate to think that our federal agencies really have and use this technology to spy on anyone with a cell phone. Technological advances are exhilarating yet frightening and are happening so fast my head swims.

Our days here in the Valley have been almost unbelievably gorgeous—low eighties and calm air. Our fruit trees out in back have recovered from the frost bite they suffered a month ago and are now boisterously leafing and blossoming. Soon the air will be filled with the nearly overpowering aroma of orange and grapefruit blossoms. And our back patio is now warm enough that the boys can sit out there almost all afternoon. And soon even the nights will be warm enough that we can leave the back door open for them to sit out there and watch the bunnies cavort in the moonlight. Last night, Tiger and Tuffy lay side-by-side on top of our freezer staring out a back window to see what there was to see. The moon was full and the backyard was bathed in brilliant light. Such funny boys. They are both so adorable yet so often so mischievous. Tiger has begun to bring one of his little plastic balls to bed, where he’ll drop it between us, batting it around until the little interior bell wakes us up. He wants to play mid-night fetch. Last night, Rosalie obliged him with a ball toss out the bedroom door, and when he leaped down to retrieve it, she got up and shut the door. One toss and no fetch was enough. Then there’s Charlie, who acts so handsomely proper, disdainfully not engaging in any of their hi-jinx except when he occasionally runs with them in high-speed chases through the house. After all the years of having cats own us, we now understand how cruel it is to have only one cat. A single cat needs someone to buddy with other than the people who think they own him. Humans are no different. People need people. A solitary castaway on a desert island may as well be dead.

There, end of blogger’s block. Now we’ll see what tomorrow may bring.