Inspiration takes many forms and comes sometimes from places we never expect. Sometimes when we aren't even looking for it, it pops up. For me, it often comes while I am cooking. It is the place I go to - the kitchen - to seek refuge. To create. To extend myself when I think I can no longer do so. It’s a place for healing that I can share. It’s a win win my husband will tell you....

'Daddy’s home, Daddy’s home!' That was what it felt like listening to the media spew about his ‘tone’ being ‘spot on.’

Watching what little of Trump’s SOTU as I could, his behavior was not unexpected. I knew he would ‘perform.’ It’s what people with his disorder do when they are cornered. And he, being the consummate entertainer above all else, took that national platform and dangled a big carrot in front of all the world-look at the shiny object-as proof. “Oh, see... he IS a president, listen to his new tone! He IS normal!!”

No. He isn’t.

Those of us who have lived with and were able to identify as disorder his Disorder, were NOT surprised. We expected it. And watching the ecstatic reaction to his ‘tone’ made me want to scream like my hair was fire. Didn’t you all SEE this flip flop in the last 20 months during his campaign? Do you all have amnesia? Didn’t you hear his ‘false flag’ comments a few hours earlier regarding the attacks on jewish cemeteries?? He turns on and off when HE NEEDS to do so. Wait for it, he will be back. Back to twitter and his bitterness. Back to his disorder of personality and our national crisis. The biggest crisis being that, as a nation, we refuse to see the Emperor has no clothes. And he is parading around naked - in front of all of us.

I am going to bake. Maybe a carrot cake.