Since Election Day, I have only listened to Springsteen music in my car as I travel back and forth to work. I "turn the radio up loud, so I don't have to think." Rule setter and follower that I am, I allow myself only one album on the way there and only one album on the way back. If the commute takes longer, and sometimes it can take a lot longer, I listen to silence. It is how I have gotten through these last few months and have remained marginally mentally intact.
With the exception of "Darkness," I have every album he's released. Couldn't find that damn CD to save my life. Went to the local record store and bought another copy. [Fuck you, Amazon and your continued advertising on Breitbart and pimping of Ivanka's crap.]
As he's always done, Bruce has written a song for every emotion I feel or belief I hold dear. That means that, on the one hand, I've had some joyous uplifting outbursts of energy with some of his songs whilst commuting. On the other hand, my blood has boiled as his anger against the government's failures and misdeeds wails through the speakers. He is Bruce. I am Bruce.
I'm down to one kid again, as college sophomore left in early January and college freshman left on the day I was marching in D.C. I was otherwise engaged the week Le Daughter left with, you know, #VOTUS and finishing off work before being gone. Since I've been back, I've been catching up on work and doing my small part to #resist.
Baking, something I've seemed to rediscover a passion for since Eldest first was preparing to leave for college, has not happened. But I got a bug to bake yesterday. With just Pete, Youngest and me at home, a sour cream coffee cake would spoil before being finished. But, man, I fixated on making it. When a friend of mine whom I've not seen in ages came by Youngest's soccer game yesterday, I found my prey. I pounced on her, "Do you want half of a sour cream coffee cake? Huh? Huh? Do you?" She did.
I am full now, having delivered half a coffee cake and eaten a slice of my own.