I'd like to write about my personal stuff, the things I know best. I'd like to give a report of my pre-operative visit with the plastic surgeon, or of tonight's role-playing game. I should be writing about silly things Valerie did around the game crowd. Instead, I am sitting here listening to live reports about the Russian invasion of Ukraine. I am getting sadder and sadder by the moment, with momentary bursts of anger at the flimsy, transparent "justifications" for this action. I am remembering the charming visitors from Ukraine who came to our Rotary a few years ago, who I hoped would return when the pandemic ends. My heart is aching.
I can't focus on writing. I need to wallow in misery, listening to these reports. I have no faith that sanctions will be enough of a deterrent for an aggressive sociopath with control of a military already on the march.
It doesn't feel right to put in photos of the baby, but that is all I have. Maybe I should have draped her in blue and yellow before I took her picture.
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