I feel like I'm living in Historic Times. It's History, happening around me, the kind that goes into the books. It rouses a certain fascination and interest. I don't feel alarmed at all. It's more like peering into a colony of army ants, seeing how it moves. Ah, a couple of them have latched onto your foot? Step back, and keep studying, but be aware of the hazard zone...
I can't figure out where my head is on all this, except I have this urge to pop open a bottle of good wine (the amount of good wine consumed out of my personal stores in the past month is starting to become apparent). And I keep thinking of the woman at the Stevenot tasting room, all those years ago, commenting that you keep the really GOOD stuff not for special occasions, because those are already special, but for when life really sucks. I guess I'm going to sit around with good friends and toast with the last of the Old Wineyards, as the War of the Ring looms. Plenty of time to worry about Mordor when the Orcs cross the Brandywine...