MountainMornings

Greetings from Florida! The state that brought you hanging chads, ballot box shenanigans, dirty trick gerrymandering, and Marc Rubio.

Last night we watched a crazy “Catman” in Mallory Square put his new kitties through their act. Getting a cat to do anything would be miraculous in my book. But here in Key West, where a gorgeous drag queen rides a red platform heel down a building to start out the New Year, anything is possible.

One year the Big Chill was here, in the Historic District celebrating Thanksgiving, when a nudist walked in off the street and jumped in our pool!

But this year we are trying to avoid conflict. Bob and I are scouting out the Keys to see if we might want to “winter over” in a state that could be under water in our children’s lifetime. We basically have three choices:

The fancy West Coast, including Naples and Sarasota; the wild Southernmost Keys; or…

The Panhandle – that area close to Georgia and Alabama and easy to drive to from TN. Places like Destin and Rosemary Beach. And another town you’ve probably never heard of, Marianna, FL.

Marianna is a heavily conservative Panhandle town with a federal prison that was already severely damaged by Hurricane Michael last October. Its prisoners were moved to another facility hundreds of miles away.

So now, the prison guards, who probably voted for Mr T, will not only continue to commute for their twelve hour two weeks at a time shifts… they won’t be getting a paycheck.

While I was worrying this morning if the government shutdown might have a TSA effect on our ability to fly home, Mr T’s temper tantrum of an imaginary “Federal Crisis” is starting to have an impact on his base.

My sympathies to every government worker, farmer and everyone else peripherally harmed by this partial/pretend/pathetic president. Go ahead and give him some air time tonight. But how about a split screen for a real time fact check?

Today will be hot and sunny but it’s been cold in Key West, low 70s. Not that I’m complaining, or calling it a climate crisis, as I break out my fleece vest. Maybe another rum punch with lunch today?