The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

The other morning I heard an NPR no doubt woke commentator prescribe a healthy dose of something, anything, upbeat to jumpstart our mornings, you know, set a more positive spin on the day, one that might last past noon. As a morning reader of two newspapers and multiple internet newsfeeds, I’m the poster child for beginning my day with mostly bleak harbingers for the morning, noon and probably afternoon, everything from ICE raids to indictments of the President’s detractors, Cat 5 hurricanes to vaccine deniers, gerrymandering to Gaza, on and on, basically doomscrolling for a less than cheerful breakfast. Even Dear Abby is consistently depressing. Cue the kitten videos, I guess. Or the makeup and clothing Influencers.

Maybe it’s time to mix a jigger or three of whiskey in that early morning cuppa joe, take the sharp edges off reality, give a good mood a fighting chance, probably need a nap early in the afternoon and then reload on the whiskey to plow through the evening, won’t need more coffee.

Outside our window the world really isn’t all that bleak or depressing. Sure, the mail comes late, it sometimes rains, occasionally I have to make that hellish drive up north for groceries and supplies, the power goes out in windstorms — but otherwise life is pretty peachy. Almost a sin to be depressed. Hellfire, it IS a sin to be anything but cheerful.

I didn’t move to the edge of a continent, the end of an island, the last vestige of the American Century to drown myself in the tears of the doomsayers. Maybe I didn’t reach escape velocity from Reality, but … I gave it a damn good shot. And if anyone thinks I’m plummeting back to terra firma, think again. Reality is in large part our own making — just ask most of us artists or musicians. Paint the world as you want it, then step inside the canvas. Oh, and don’t let those brushes dry out — it’s an ongoing process. Maybe every day. Like the NPR lady said….