{"id":32356,"date":"2024-12-24T23:35:13","date_gmt":"2024-12-25T06:35:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/rodbinder.com\/journal\/?p=32356"},"modified":"2024-12-25T11:13:31","modified_gmt":"2024-12-25T18:13:31","slug":"dec-25-2024","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/rodbinder.com\/journal\/2024\/12\/24\/dec-25-2024\/","title":{"rendered":"Dec 25 2024"},"content":{"rendered":"

My breakfast started at 11:30 PM Christmas eve. I opened a jar of baby pickles. That made me think of the song below. I miss my bikes.<\/p>\n

It is 11:00 AM. The cats are fed some of them got water, some got snow. I barely have enough for the last cup of coffee or contemplate cooking pasta for later or even breakfast with the last of my oats.
\nI still had 3 boxes of pasra, some hundred year old already open pancake mix and 1 box of deyhdrated hash browns. Oh and three jars of the most horrible instant coffee. I am thankful for all that I have left. There was also a tall jar of dried beans, and lentils. I rembered filling those 15 years ago.<\/p>\n

Every year at christmas I usually get a care package of a bag of food hung on my outside door handle. I didn’t really need them then but I do this year. I guess I am off the list. <\/p>\n

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