Moments ago, minding my own freelancer's business, received a nice email from Al. Al, apparently, is really not running. For president, or for health's sake.
Al is giving the big thumb's up to Obama.
YT, thrilled, gave a little bit more moola to the Obama campaign, despite the fact that I did not get the go-ahead to dine with Obama a few months back.
As I told CatherineP at our teadate this fine a.m., I should have been more failing-rust-bucket-town-edgy.
Today, about 1 p.m., Yours Truly witnessed a classic End of the World Sky with dark gray clouds to the north.
YT contacted her northerly contacts to learn if they'd been barraged by storms, hailballs, furballs, or a blizzard.
Amherst Contact wrote back that she had to park under an overpass to avoid golf balls falling from the sky, that the leaves out there were snapped off of trees.
That cars have divots.
The Middling City avoided this weather drama.
YT in a few hours will be hitting the stage of Irish Classical Theatre Company to read a portion of Ulysses as it is once again BloomsDay.
James Joyce, like Samuel Beckett, denounced the constrictions of Ireland and headed to more Liberal Lands.
The Middling City Mayor is calling for a Turn Your Back on the Pump Day to ... stick it to the man. To stick it to the conglomerates. To stick it to the local businessowner already hanging on by an overtaxed thread.

Still, Al, Love.