No, this isn’t about food, it’s about being an American.
Sometimes you just don’t feel like eating. Even the Accidental Locavore.
Yeah, it’s easy to say #notmypresident.
I didn’t vote for him.
I woke up on November 9th crying and afraid.
Am still afraid.
Maybe more afraid.
A friend who voted for and supports him says, “give him some time to get something done before you complain about him.”
As my mother would say “done and dusted.”
I watched the news last night and saw the demonstrations at JFK.
Muslims were prevented from entering the United States.
The same United States that ALL our ancestors* entered from another country. As immigrants and/or refugees.
May have been a while ago. Mine were persecuted for their religion and came over with the Pilgrims.
Then they got kicked out of Plymouth.
The same United States that our president’s family—grandfather, mother, wives (1 & 3) entered as immigrants, a little more recently than my family—just saying.
And, just saying, I bet there’s an immigrant or two, gosh maybe even a Muslim, employed by Trump somewhere in the organization. Maybe even an ex-wife.
What are we as a country going to get from this?
None of the 9/11 hijackers were from any of the countries on the banned list.
Oh, and BTW, approximately 11,000 more people in the US were killed by guns than terrorists.
See guns being banned?
But this piece is getting away from me.
I went to dinner last night (getting back to the food part) sad and disgusted.
Not wanting to be associated with this pussy-grabbing POTUS.
Not wanting the rest of the world (most of whom don’t know me) to think that I’m that kind of American.
Or maybe any kind of American (bonjour France?).
Certainly not the ones says they’re making America great again.
Not my idea of greatness. Yours?
*Except for Native Americans