Seriously. Trying to concentrate on what’s going on in Ukraine, or Taiwan, or Doug Emhoff’s former love life has proven difficult today, what with the sheets of rain pounding against this side of the house, and a tornado watch issued for the next three days.

You guessed it: I’m down here in Coastal Georgia, USA, feeling the first impact of Hurricane Debbie (or Debby, depending on which account you’re reading). It’s not really a hurricane at the moment, but it’s the equivalent of one of those nasty storms that roll through here periodically. The problem with this one is that it’s moving painfully slowly, dumping gobs of water on already saturated ground.

I did say this was news from The Swamp, didn’t I? I wasn’t kidding. The houses here have no basements, because you can’t dig a basement in a swamp. The house would just pop up out of the ground with a huge, resounding “Thwoop!” and float down the Savannah River and off to Bermuda.

News flash: My phone just signaled me again with another weather alert. This one was a localized flood warning for the next several hours. No kidding, people? Possible flooding, in this weather? Who would have guessed?

So I’ve been looking at the headlines, trying to ignore the beating against the window in my den. There’s Mali severing diplomatic relations with Ukraine over some to-do with the Wagner Group . . . Wait! The Wagner Group? The late Yevgeny Prigozhin’s mercenaries? Are they still around? Well, that bears looking into.

And there’s another mention about the two children of those Russian spies who were just returned to Moscow from Slovenia. There’s a human interest story here, but it’s going to be hard to get any information out of Russia. Still, it’s worth a try. Those poor, confused kids.

Then I really need to get started on the annual birthday poem for an old friend. That’s coming up next month, and it takes me a while to finish those. It all started about 30 years ago, and — would you believe? — they’re beginning to feel a little repetitive. How’s this:

“There once was a girl from Nantucket . . .”

Okay, I can do better.

But all I can think of is that last piece of cheesecake in the refrigerator, and perhaps a little chair nap. I’ll try and pick up the threads later . . . or tomorrow.

If we haven’t floated away.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
8/5/24