As the coup continues to unfold, I am hearing from friends and about friends of friends who are losing their jobs in the great federal purge. It won’t be long before Mump supporters feel the pain: but will they be able to admit where it’s coming from? Meanwhile, here in the kaleidoscope, climate chaos keeps the colors and textures of the changing season spinning.

I woke up Saturday morning in a vivid memory of the dim halls of the Pentagon when I was six and the Colonel took me there to get my social security card. My breath caught as I thought of his admonishment then. I don’t recall the words but the message was loud and clear: This is who you are now: memorize this number and never let anyone take it from you. Well, I no longer have to worry about identity theft since that’s just happened to every one of us now.

Another sunset, another casserole. I’m calling it the Three Soup Casserole, and this time I added chopped broccoli and my new favorite Penzeys seasoning, Wauwatosa Village.

This gave me a couple of meals for the week, one for the freezer, and some to share with a neighbor. It is truly so simple! And pretty darn tasty, too.

Simply spending time in my kitchen cooking and baking to nourish and treat myself and others brings me comfort and peace. I’m also staying engaged with the resistance in the ways that suit my constitution and current abilities, including amplifying accurate information and upcoming actions. Monday, for example, there’s a “Not My President’s Day!” protest near you. And everyone is jumping on the “No Buy New Year” bandwagon, more about that later.

But once I have done in a day what I’m capable of contributing to the greater good, I allow my attention to return to my simple life, the result of all the choices I’ve made in every moment leading up to this one, and I let myself rest in contentment, with profound gratitude for the conditions of my little life in every moment flowing into the next. As I slice pats of butter to finish the casserole, I slice extra thin to use less butter now so that a) there’s more butter for later because who knows how long we’ll have it, and b) my heart really doesn’t need an entire stick of butter on a single casserole. I slice slowly and feel the butter, and lick my finger when I’m done carefully placing all the pats and taste the butter, and appreciate the butter, because that’s the truth of that moment.

When I serve myself a portion, I taste all the ingredients and savor the nutrition, and feel in my body my gratitude for this food, and for having enough to share. When I vacuum the rugs, I appreciate the machine, the rugs, the electricity, and the sun that provides it, and each element that transforms the sunbeams into vacuum energy; and I appreciate a clean floor.

And the Saturday burbles along with a meditation here, a short walk there, a few conversations; evening comes noticeably later now, and then dark, some mindful entertainment on TV with little Wren, and gratitude for turning into a warm bed. If you also have one, I hope you appreciate your good fortune as much as I do mine.

Like magic, I wake up alive and it’s time once again for breakfast ritual. This morning it was truly simple, a couple of big soft ginger cookies and a hot latté, made even more special by switching to an old favorite mug I haven’t used in awhile. A special friend gave it to me, and I pulled it out when it dawned on me that a tall mug would probably keep the latté hotter longer than the wide bowl I’ve been using (also a special gift) — and it did! Simply using this mug, this special plate, infuses the breakfast ritual with meaning. Even the preparation of the beverage this morning was more of a meditation than usual, as I contemplated the essence of elements: distilled nectar of the vanilla orchid, boiled sap of a Vermont maple tree, steamed fruit of the tropical evergreen coffee shrub. How they all made their ways here! to this moment, in this kitchen! It’s a miracle.

I can see that tonight’s theme is food, sigh. I started a post about drag queens a couple of days ago but it got unwieldy and I’ve had to set it aside to keep working on, so I return to my other happy place. Lunch. Except for days I can’t, I make a point to have lunch right around noon, and take a break from whatever else I’m doing to sit and enjoy a cheese sandwich and a good book. I’m grateful for the old Kindle, and today I’m especially grateful for the recently deceased author Tom Robbins. Some of his earlier novels delighted me and I believe imparted a sense of adventure that wouldn’t have sprung naturally from my upbringing. I was sorry to hear of his passing last week, and immediately checked out his last novel, Villa Incognito, which I hadn’t yet read. Like all his novels, it’s hard to say what it’s about, but it does resonate strongly with me at this time. I highlighted many passages about the folly and corruption of man, and the nature of god or gods.

Ice cream is a gift from the gods, which no one can deny. I’m grateful when I have some in the freezer, and even more so when I have both chocolate and vanilla, so I can swirl them together and savor every smooth spoonful. After more spring cleaning today, and exercising with my long-distance exercise buddy, I got back into the sunroom and planted seeds for three varieties of onions, bulbing fennel, and two types of cabbage. I’m late getting them in, but I’m recommitting to growing as much as possible of my own food this summer, now that I have a new hip and am getting some energy and mobility back.

And then, the kaleidoscope outdid herself this evening…