Butterflies fly free!
Recently birthed swallowtail butterflies feasting for the fist time on my butterfly bush here at Casa Tipton-Kelly here on this beautiful late summer Saturday morning in southern coastal Delaware.
What a week! Just finished watching almost all the hours of the Democratic National Convention. With the exception of a few times I dropped off into sleep (not because of the content of the convention but because I'm old), I thoroughly enjoyed watching the joy and the happiness that was washed over me from all those happy, diverse folks at the Democratic National Convention.
Trump is toast.
Trump is finished.
The Republicans are finished.
What a relief!
Now I can sleep at night and not worry about what disaster I'm going to wake up in the morning because Trump is president.
Here's my prediction for the final Electoral College votes:
Even you die hard MAGA fans, admit it. Who would you rather see win?
Trump knows he's going to lose.
Trump is melting down before our eyes.
The Dems are doing exactly the right thing, they are showing what a SMALL man Trump is.
Today is another one of those "Saturdays." This Saturday is the sixth month since Bill died early Saturday morning on February 24th, 2024.
Bill was release from his pain and discomfort. My pain (grief) just began. And it continues. On a different level.
I get some comfort that Bill occasionally contacts me by blinking on one of the Christmas lights that I have hanging up in the sunroom and living room. Bill used to contact me with the yellow light, now he does it with the purple light. His soul has progressed. Last night he contacted me again. Call me crazy but I know what I know. Last night I was out back doing a little late day weed pulling and avoiding mosquitoes and I got the telepathic message from Bill that he was going to say "Hi."
I came inside and sure enough the purple light was blinking. That was Bill. My Bill! I am blessed beyond measure.