I’m grateful for this beautiful Sunday. I felt cranky most of yesterday. Because I wasn’t able to attend a Hands Off! rally, I planned to watch live coverage throughout the day, but couldn’t find any. I was expecting news networks to have cameras on the crowds in every major city, but the legacy media was suspiciously absent—Sadly, once-realistic expectations are rapidly becoming unrealistic. At least social media provided my crowd quotient.

I was thrilled this morning to read estimates of five million Americans out in the streets, and that good news came on the heels of a vivid adventure dream. Dan Rather offered this link to a CCR classic song, “Fortunate Son,” in his Reasons to Smile column from yesterday. The song is eerily relevant. I couldn’t stop at one CCR song, so I played Creedence tunes while I watered the houseplants.

The day kept getting better. I attended Upaya’s Awareness in Action zoom with Valerie Brown later, and Wren and I walked to the canyon after lunch for the first time this year.

Ice Canyon still has plenty, and a precious little Townsendia all curled up like a globe cactus is already blooming.

While we sat on the bench a golden eagle circled down to check out the possibility of a snack but flew on over us when it realized Wren had protection. I enjoyed a good long talk and a hearty laugh with my cousin, which also helped dispel the gloomy undertone so many Americans are feeling. I mean, Social Security, seriously? “Understaffed agency sent into ‘death spiral’ as employees warn Musk-led cuts will lead to structural collapse” reads the subheading of this Guardian article this morning. Are US media paying attention?

Tonight was a planned Zoom Cooking with Amy, and I’d been looking forward to that. We started with these little—I’m going to call them Doge Deviled Eggs—they’re not eggs, because who can afford eggs anymore, am I right? We saw this idea on Instagram a month ago: boil baby gold potatoes til tender, let them cool, scoop out the middles, mash up with anything you’d use in deviled eggs, and fill ‘em up again. Mel said it sounded like an awful lot of trouble, but it took less than half an hour not counting boiling and cooling. And they were delicious!

Next we crisped some prosciutto in butter, sautéed shallots, and tossed in frozen peas, fresh (store bought) cheese tortellini, along with chicken bouillon and cream, et voila! A marvelous one-skillet pasta eleganza.

It really was so simple, so delicious. After we concluded our lovely dinner, I was thinking about our culinary history together. It goes back to the earliest days of our friendship. In seventh-grade French class we had to perform a skit on stage that neither of us has forgotten. She was the French waitress, and I was the bumbling American tourist at the café. We don’t remember the entire dialog, but I pretended to know how to read the menu and ordered escargots. She questioned me (in French of course), and I insisted Oui, oui… er… (and here’s the punchline) avec syrop! We thought we were so funny, and we still laugh about it. Snails… with syrup!

I’m confident that our spring tortellini was much tastier than that imaginary meal 54 years ago. Wren curled up under my desk in the new bed Garden Buddy made for Topaz. I’m grateful I managed to find my joy throughout this day. I am indeed a fortunate one, but not like in the song.