Quiet day here with occasional thunder. Our tiny village of Nashville appears to have let the holiday go by completely. They used to be noted for their beautiful tree-lined street (that's right, it's singular) and their Memorial weekend celebrations. AEP destroyed the trees this year, and the folks are still in shock. And there appears to have been no special time this weekend for parading or eating junk or admiring old cars.

Jay and I, however, have begun some actions we choose not to call traditions. Last evening, he began to rotisserie, using his famous "little red hen" recipe. What he learned was that if you don't secure the spit in its socket, it will not spin, and the bird catches on fire. Let me add that frugality dictated that we try to eat it.

The strawberry shortcake I had been going to make for dessert had to be cancelled, due to the fire emergency on the spit; so I decided we would have it for breakfast today. All right, holiday breakfast! I made it. It looked good. I dropped it. On the floor. Once again, we practiced frugality. I learned that baker's paper becomes weak when it is heated and should not be used to transport shortcake from the oven to the counter.

Learning experiences so far. But not this evening. This evening was, "I told you so". Jay took the remains of the Poulet ala Conflagration and tried to turn it into a casserole. Frugal be damned. That bird will R.I.P. in the trash.

Going onto Facebook this evening, I found that someone wanted me to have an opinion on whether Obama should have left Washington for some vacation time on Memorial Day Weekend. I'd thought that my weekend had entitled me to some time out; but I was wrong. The Gods of Irrelevance wanted my opinion. Here it comes: Let's ALL get a life. Have a good one.

When you were a child, did you ever sing into an electric fan? Great sound! Almost as good as Munchkin voices, wasn't it? You and your sound were unique. You blended into one another. What it meant was not as important as that you were making your own noise.

As an adult, I've sung into the fan many times when I thought I was in conversation. So I figured I might as well do it on purpose. Here I am. Never thought I'd be here. Rules here are simple: hear my song and sing your own, if you feel called to do so. Please keep in your singing a strong respect for others whose songs are different from yours. Oh, and my song is PRIME here, of course.

The other day, my husband and I were stopped by a flagman, and we had a chance to see some very different road repair going on. When we were able to go through, we stopped by a worker and asked about the process. He was almost jubilant as he told us that this road was being done the right way, because of Obama stimulus money. We shared his exuberance even while a driver on the other side of the flag was sharing his negative opinions of Obama and his stimulus garbage.

The guy was about to drive on a well prepared road, past a man who, without Obama, would not have a job at this time; and he still couldn't see the positive result. Sad for him. I almost wanted to offer him the choice of traveling one of the heavily rutted roads parallel to this one so that reality would not assault him as it was doing now. I didn't tell him. But I'm telling the fan now. Yippee!