In Which Will Comes Crawling back to the Morning

Good morning, Stroock's Books afficionados.

We found that afternoon posting makes us a little too online in the morning and that leads to trouble, and pointless FB/Twitter slap fights. Nobody wins those. Some people enjoy the snark, but it leaves us cold and wincing when we see the little reply light up. We'll move on. 

We had dad-taxi duty last night, in which we spent two hours in the car, dropping off and picking up and dropping off and picking up. Because our two teenage girls have the aux, as the kids say, we heard a lot of Olivia Rodrigo. Man, that bitch is messed up. Actually, we kind of like some of her stuff. Yes, the heavy metal police gave us a talking to. 

Donald Trump has clinched the GOP nomination. We sure hope you people know what the hell you're doing. Gee, just imagine if Ron DeSantis were the nominee. Focused like a laser on the border, inflation, and coeds murdered by illegal migrants. We sigh forlornly. What might have been. We admit that pessimists we follow are less pessimistic. As for Trump winning, we won't believe it till we see him being sworn in.  

We've been researching our Lexington story for the War Night compellation. We're trying to get a feel for the town, as best we can. In the 1970s Lexington had a thriving business district and saw a lot of construction. There were several black neighborhoods, the city was about 15 percent black overall. The University of Kentucky was and is in the south, central part of town. In 1975 Lexington was an anchor of the New South. Remember that? 

A Kentucky cousin informs us that we, in fact, have family buried in Lexington, something of which we were not aware. Lexington is about two hours from our ancestral home in Livermore (where our grandparents are buried), about 15 minutes south of Owensboro, which itself is on the Ohio* River. It's been 20 years since we set foot in the land of our mother. Ah, we can see the rolling, fertile farmland now. 

*Pronounced Ohia.