I just want to say that I was, and am deeply disturbed at the latest terrorist attack in the UK, this time in London. Although I’m upset when these cowardly things happen anywhere, it always strikes close to home for me when Britain, especially London, is involved. Now, I’ve felt this way about the UK since I was in my teens, but this strikes especially home to me now, as if it had happened in America. I love the Brits. I love the Brits. I don’t love the mayor of London and I don’t love the PC culture that seems to have gripped them. But God bless and keep Great Britain even if, in 1776, I might have sung, “we say to hell with Great Britain!” I love the London police, a courageous, good lot. They need to be armed now, the whole lot of them. God bless the police officer who faced that loser waving a foot long knife with a night stick. What courage. And God bless the people in the pub who threw bottles, glasses and chairs at the loser after he stabbed a waitress, oh, such a big man. Why does this make me want to take to the streets of London seeking them, the terrorists, out and firing, as Roscoe said, an AK-7 until it melted. I’m crazy, you know, they don’t terrorize me, I want to get them. And obviously, the Brits in the bar also had their backs up. God bless Great Britain. My fellow Tea Drinkers.

This is a strange post, going from international terror to a regular Sunday morning and weekend. I taped two movies TCM showed Friday, “Summer Magic,” and “Pollyana,” with Hayley Mills in her day. The first Mom took me to see when I was ten–I didn’t like it as much, and felt the same yesterday, but had to marvel how lovely Dorothy MacGuire was in this as the mother–sweet story anyway but Hayley gushed a bit too much for me. Had to laugh when at the end, hunky Peter Brown started to dance with her and said, “don’t talk.” Why did I think of you? But “Pollyanna” is one of the sweetest stories, beautifully film, and I was drooling about some of the huge, exquisite turn of the century hats. Kids being kids, how rare was that?

Something made me go to Winn Dixie this morning, a place I hardly go to, and I remembered I had one of their discount cards that really save you a lot. Saw three of the most gorgeous, lean T-Bones originally prices nearly $30.00 but with the card you pay $16.00. Bought them, marinating them now and will freeze them separately in ziplocs later. A pot of chicken and sausage gumbo is simmering, and I made a light potato salad to go with it; won’t be ready for a while, so I will snack on unsalted pecans, fresh cold cherries and thin slices of Vermont cheddar–perhaps sip some Pinot Grigio a little later. Icing in the freezer.

Well, bummer, the drain in the bathtub has not been working; obviously a clog. When I shower, the tub starts filling with water and takes forever to drain. I didn’t want to buy Draino or have the workmen in, so I searched online for a home remedy for a clogged drain. I found this one using ingredients I always have on hand: take a cup of baking soda and pour in down the drain; follow with a cup of salt (I always have sea salt although I don’t use it on food; one never knows when one’s home parameters are going to need spiritual cleansing and protection), then pour a cup of white vinegar and wait ten minutes, after which time pour a kettle of boiling water to follow. I just did it a few minutes ago and the drain is now happily gurgling away with disappearing water. I love home remedies.

It’s been a busy morning, so it’s getting close to crash time with the purple fan softly roaring, the yellow and red comfort of Earl’s quilt, and quiet time with either a movie, a ghost show, or, as I was last night riveted to the trouble in London.

Someone on CNN named Lazlo or something,a host, don’t know because I hate that station, tweeted that President Trump was a pile of sh– and not only a disgrace to the Presidency but a disgrace to humankind. I wonder if the will be fired, as no doubt would have happened if someone, especially a conservative, had tweeted that about Obama. I will reiterate what I said months ago: journalism is dead. It’s truly dead.