I don't want to write about politics. I'm sick and tired of all things Clinton, the thought of one more day let alone eight years of daily Clinton crap makes my half-digested breakfast want to jump out of my throat.
It's Spring here in California. The flowers are blooming.
The mockingbirds are singing. There is a beautiful warm sun shining. The rest of the world can go to Hell for a day; I'm going outside.