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Independence Day 2022

The Away Game

This morning I awoke with the realization that I’d better get some all-cotton batting, Made in The USA — soon, if I expect to make those quilts I’ve been waiting to create for years.


The price of all-cotton anything has gone through the roof. I was able to purchase from Fat Quarter Shop what might be the last queen-sized all-cotton batting, Made in The USA. And some wool-blend (but all wool) batting in smaller dimensions.

I did not know that the emphasis on “Sewing Away” would be AWAY.

Ominous signs are afoot: polyester has begun to infiltrate the batting fibers. And my trusted fabric e-tailer sites are offering fabrications of that ghastly VOILE material.

What is material is the modest stockpile of textiles that I presently own. It’s worth a fortune. I’ll not be going to evil-Bay to hawk my wares. Those tactile yardages are mine, all mine, and they represent dreams-to-come-true. Faith consists of many intangible things, but it also comes in yardages of cotton and linen that shall become quilts and garments.

An abhorrent lack of faith in America got us into this unholy mess. Unfettered faith in this nation — and in ourselves — is gonna get us, the Patriots, out of it. As for the infidels, well, let them stew in their own traitorous juices.

I do not know about you, but the entire mindset out there in Retail-Land is an enormous panic-stricken contraction known as RECESSION.

Wasting words is not my preferred style of communication. I’ll be blunt about the b-s. The cost of fertilizer impacts the production (growth) of cotton, just as much as most other consumer goods. Now is the time to overturn that liberal world order before it makes its way to yet another protest-tee-shirt.

Tighten the belt you don’t even know you own.

For weeks now I’ve been reading about the airline/airport debacles, which, most assuredly, are not caused by THE WEATHER. I do feel a bit squeamish about the individuals waiting in line for hours and hours to complete their quick air-travel in less than three days. I also confess, candidly and coldly, that I have yet to understand this fixed mania for the so-called bucket list.

And I have yet to accept the inability of many, far too many, Americans to serenely accept the location where they’ve pitched their tents as a resting place for say, a month or two.

I’m a go-getter and a wanderer from way back, but it has always seemed to me that these wing-ed globe-trotters are silly symptoms of a stupidly affluent society, spendthrifts that have yet to fathom the basics in life. The mindless fools who brought this economic collapse upon America are the same fools who will foment more trouble, sometime, someplace, somewhere in the future. They never really go away; they simply swarm from one mind-hive to another. Their bubble-thoughts fill up entire bubbles that burst, upon all of us; and then they whine and rant and cry and demand The Guvmint fix their ludicrous mess.

There’s really no living with them; they can scarcely live with themselves. Which is why these boorish brats must fly the coop at frequently-timed intervals. Hard times are hardest for the selfish, and they are among the most selfish on the face of the earth. The puerile “leaders” of the globe pitch their stupid sound-bites to them. Loads of digital clicks are generated that way.

As for me, I firmly believe that a stitch in time saves nine.

I’ve got my online click-request in for a new pair of white sneakers, to replace the pair that gave out about seven years ago. The long-awaited New Balance 990v3 for Women in Moonbeam currently comprises my laptop wallpaper, whilst I await the company’s backorder for this Made in The USA pair of walking shoes. Evidently, the entire world had been anxiously awaiting its release date of June 30, 2022.

I only happened yesterday upon the pair of walking-away footwear — during some online divertissement. I was finishing up some research work, and wanted to get into relaxation mode as part of preparing for one of my favorite holidays, 4 July.

My Independence Day tradition is to leave a place of my marked dis-inclination to stay, in a rather dramatic way. I’ve got a boatload of memories of my hauling-a** out of sites and scenarios and persons that had been revolting me for too long. Declaring independence in action-mode is my classic style of living, of doing it my way — combined with the highway.

Today, I celebrate leaving any and all websites that are frantically, desperately, pathetically e-mailing me, nearly begging me, non-stop, to purchase from them, yet again, and again, and again.

The July 4th sales started in early June.

Please . . . have some dignity!  Don't be so Needy.

You’re hawking 2nd-quarter goods that really are not good, in comparison with previous quarters.

Those quarters keep getting smaller as the dollar shrinks in proportion to the gazillions that the U.S. Government, during the past two years, spewed out across the fruited plain. The COVID-money is coming a-cropper.

Let that plain fill up with the spoils of that rotting fruit. Harvest time is coming, in November. It’s gonna be quite a festival!