Pom-pom

LA is on fire.
That sounds like a story prompt for a futuristic short story, but it is real, and now. Trump is blaming California water policies “to protect an essentially worthless fish called a smelt”.
Um. No.
(I know you know. "This is how tipping points happen: The LA wildfires are climate disasters compounded"--from the Guardian.)

Orange Crate Art has posted 4 live links to help LA.

May we wake up.
I deleted my Facebook account this morning. I kept Instagram, so that's mostly pointless, but my act is to remind ME of what matters:
FB was mostly people I could write letters to.
Do that.
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I am to be given a pom-pom for my hat! Not frivolous: humans connecting.

At coffee yesterday morning, I'd mentioned to chocolatier Tracy that you could tell it was seriously cold outside (near zero F) because 23 of the 26 people on the city bus were wearing hats. (Minnesotans almost never wear hats.) Only TWO of the hats had pom-poms on top, however, and I was sorry mine wasn't one of them.

She, crafter extraordinaire, said she would make me a pom-pom!
BELOW: Me, left, in pom-pomless hat knit by Auntie Vi, and Chocotrace. If you're in southern Wisconsin, visit her Sjolinds Chocolate House.

At work, I spiffed up the Valentines section with more non-Valentine frivolities:
a pair of little lamps with bases of frilly, Dresden-type figures in pastels; a packet of women socks with pink flamingos; a decorative box of beginner's calligraphy pens and nibs; more books and DVDs.
Can I keep this up for the month until V Day?
Probably not, but it's funner for me, and hopefully for shoppers. Manageress complimented me too.

And I made my coworkers lunch in a crock pot entirely from donated canned food:
kidney beans, black beans, green beans, collard greens, carrots, fire-roasted tomatoes, pasta sauce, and chicken. Meat in cans kinda grosses me out, but there it was--free protein.

I see at work how people are "nutrition poor". Usually there's something to eat, but often it's cold carbs. My coworkers are generally happy to have hot food.

I ate it too. Too much sodium, but not much added sugar (just the pasta sauce). I'm trying to avoid processed foods, but in reality I just don't have the oomph to do all my own cooking from all-fresh foods.
When it's too cold to bike, shopping for freshies is an extra trip on the bus and I often skip it.
And that's totally okay. I'm not going for purity. That way lies madness. (You can see it on social media--some truly crazy food obsessions.)
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Where the Store Lives

I don't blog much about the social setting of the store anymore, so for anyone new to my blog, let me note:
the store is located in one the first neighborhoods on "areas of the city to avoid" lists.
It's a mile from where the police murdered George Floyd, which was entirely in keeping with the Way It Is. I was shocked, but my coworkers were, like, "That almost happened to my cousin."

The nest of dealers across the street from the store have moved on (for now), so it's not quite so in-your-face, but poverty and all its cruel companions are on display daily.

People have told me they're afraid to come to the store, and I don't blame them. I hope you can see here that it's lots of kindness and fun too. And fun stuff! Once I figured out that I AM NOT THE SAVIOR, I've been good there.
Lots of good and interesting stuff nearby too--like mercados:
(me w/ my earlier self-cut hair)

It's my day off--I'm going downtown to mail a vintage Stanley "built for life" thermos to Marz, so she can take hot lunch to school. She'd wanted one, and on Tuesday one came into the thrift store. It's like a magic river: eventually (almost) everything comes by.
Probably pom-poms too, but I'd rather have a friend-made one.

After the PO, I'm going to a coffee shop to write a letter. Oh, yes, and I'll get ingredients for this miso soup.

Take care out there!