Here is today's craziness. The owner of the Patriots, a friend of Trump's, was arrested for solicitation of prostitutes in a massage parlor. In Vero Beach, an hour or so away, 165 men were arrested in a sting for the same thing, some whom I know. A parent of two of my former students, as well as the guy who bought my parents' house were caught in the sting. There were several other stings across Florida. The stings uncovered human trafficking rings, mostly from China.

This is all happening as Trump's friend, Jeffery Epstein, is back in the news. He likes very young girls and was given a light sentence by one of Trump's cabinet members, Alex Acosta, who was the prosecutor in the case and covered the whole thing up. Talk about misusing your position.

I cannot believe I am typing these words and it is only 1:12 pm PST.

10:06 pm

I took time off from Twitter. I actually cleaned and wrote and showered. Loretta, my friend who doesn't allow current event conversation, came over. As usual, our conversation wandered easily through an array of subjects, seemingly unconnected to each other, but interesting nonetheless. She stayed nearly three hours, and we drank ginger lemon tea with honey. Having her over is a huge accomplishment because before my place was spruced up, I never invited her over.

After that, I spent 30 minutes on Twitter before going over to Richard's house to watch Game of Thrones. I am probably the last person on the planet to watch it, and now I am totally addicted. It is an escape from the craziness in the world today, but relevant to all the craziness going on the world today.

Richard made dinner. Since he is a chef, dinner at his place is like eating in a fine restaurant, with four loving dogs as decoration. Tonight he served pork tenderloin with sweet potatoes topped with sour cream, and amazing greens with bacon. I will eat more greens now that I've tasted Richard's greens. Everything's better with bacon. And red wine in big glasses that really stood up to the greens. For dessert, Richard made chocolate chip cookies. I have had thousands of ridiculously good chocolate chip cookies. Richard's are, hands down, the best. They're on the soft side but not too soft. On the first bite, there's the carmelization of the brown sugar and butter. The chips are actually chunks that melt on the tongue.

After dinner, we retired to the tv room and watched three episodes. I cannot remember which ones, but apparently we're still in the first season, right when Daenerys finds out she's the dragon mother. I just got home and am so proud of myself for sitting down and writing first, before anything else. That's different.

Anyway, I am addicted to GOT. Kate told me that I would never be lonely as long as I was into it, because there are thousands of episodes that go on forever. I just found out there is a whole industry devoted just to Game of Thrones merchandise. I must not google it.

I am in a tight spot. But all I have to remember is that I have been in tighter ones, and I have escaped. I'm pinching pennies at the moment, literally rolling change, being unemployed and all. I was down to less than half a roll of toilet paper. I was going to get some from Nancy and Chris, and then I started cleaning. In the cabinet under the bathroom sink, way, way in the back, were two rolls I didn't even know were there. Talk about manifesting. I told Richard this tonight and he said, "Oh I have so much that you can have. I don't use it now that I have a bidet." I have to aim higher.

Regarding tighter spots, there were some really tight spots on my journey, but probably none worse than Canada. Whenever I think I can't go without something like food or coffee, I remember the six days I spent in a small town on the west side of the Prince Edward Island Bridge. The reasons why I ended up there are many, and I won't get into to them now. But I ended up there for six days, with no cash, no gas, and a dead battery.

I did have my quilt, some pillows, notebook, pen, a few books and magazines, my phone, a thermos, clean water, and sanitary restrooms just feet from my car, where I slept, waiting for checks to clear.

Each day, I would have a melt down for fifteen minutes or so. Then I would snap myself out of my funk by reminding me that I wanted the adventure and prayed for something to write about it. It was like an ashram, spa, writers' workshop all in one. Nothing stood between me and writing. There was nothing else to do. Days are long when you're waiting for money. So I wrote. When I read what I wrote while I was stranded, I see that I did some good writing. I had no distractions.

Right now, it feels a little like that time, but it isn't, because I have a roof over my head and family/friends around me. I have been in tight spots before and grace has prevailed. Why would that cease?

Now to bed with a good book that I got from the library yesterday. Instead of giving something up, I am going to put something pleasurable in it's place.