The last fifteen days have gone by in fog. The little allergy attack from raking moldy leaves, turned out to be a full blown, nasty bronchial bug of some sort accompanied by coughing so violent that even the muscles in my toes were strained. Mum came down with the same thing about four days after I did, and since we were hosting Thanksgiving, plans had to be cancelled.
I have a vague recollection of the day, propped up in front of the television watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and working on a jigsaw puzzle. It was all very retro. Give me the Macy’s Parade, Turkey and Cranberry sauce in the shape of a can and that’s a traditional Thanksgiving, as far as I’m concerned, so it wasn’t a complete loss. We missed the family being here, but Mum and I made the best of things.
Gluttony. That’s what else I remember. All those wakeful hours spent coughing worked up an appetite and since we’d managed to get out and shop for Thanksgiving, there were things that needed to be eaten. Mince Pie, Peach Pie, chocolate and all the wonderful little snacks that seem appropriate this time of year. I haven’t done much damage according to the scales, but the time away from the gym and the excess calories have added a little padding to the tummy. I’m going to start back on the workout next week and see how quickly I can get back into the swing of things.
Last weekend, fortified by Theraflu, I managed to get out and assemble the out-of-doors decorations and string the lights. I’m in the holiday spirit, although it was odd to be working around the spring flowers as I staked the spiral Christmas trees. Crazy weather. Things looked great when I turned on the lights that evening, but my solitary stag that worked for me last year seems a little lonely and so I think I’ll have to find him some company this Christmas.
I’m feeling much better today, but watching CNN on this foggy morning was very odd. I had forgotten about the current OJ trial and wondered why it was making news fourteen years down the line until seeing a much older, worried looking OJ and remembering his latest troubles. I actually felt sorry for OJ when he told his side of the story. What’s wrong with me? I can’t believe that soft spot still exists, the one that has caused me to buy one too many sob stories and a whole lot of trouble over the years. I’d make for a terrible judge. Jackie Glass, fortunately, appears to be an excellent judge and she managed to put things in the correct perspective quite nicely. One can’t help wonder what a difference it would have made if she had been at the helm of the 1995 OJ trial, instead of Judge Lance Ito.
The Goldman’s were there, of course. They don’t seem to age. I want to scream at them “let it go, go home” but if I walked in their shoes, I’d never let it rest.
Every once and a while I wonder “What if OJ didn’t do it?”. Somehow, when Judge Glass reviewed the evidence of his latest charges, something about OJ became very clear. He’ll do whatever it takes to lay claim to his belongings and he believed he was above the law. Until today, he had no evidence to the contrary.
