22 June 2020: "Daily"

If by daily you’re cool with bimonthly, then yes, this is your daily. :)

Things just got profoundly unfunny, y’all. I mean, they never were amusing, but the death toll in America kept skyrocketing while our pathetic “leadership” did worse than nothing, and then racist, violent police officers killed Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and Rayshard Brooks for no reason at all, and many of us are STILL at home, graduating from middle, high school, and college from our couches and further disengaging from life, while others (let’s call them either ignorant or selfish AF) gallivant around to bars and pools and rallies sans masks while some governors (let’s loudly call out: Ron DeSantis, Tate Reeves, and Greg Abbott) basically send their citizens to harm’s/death’s door because hoaxes and ludicrous understandings of civil liberties and kowtowing to an orange bastard. As the June 1 anniversary of the 1921 Tulsa race massacre (anniversary seems all too happy a word for such a grotesque event) came and went and then Juneteenth was celebrated, I realized I’d never, in all my years of school, been taught about either.

It’s all absurd, shameful, and, as previously noted, profoundly unfunny.

Thank god for Sarah Cooper, comedienne extraordinaire, Charlotte Clymer, activist extraordinaire, and Rex Chapman, human extraordinaire, plus wine, friends, paint, teenagers (especially other people’s teens), and good dermatologists.

If you are not yet familiar with Sarah Cooper, you simply must remedy that RIGHT NOW. Her Twitter handle is here, and her videos are solid gold. Her genius is in masterfully lip-syncing, verbatim!, to actual trump verbiage. That’s basically it. Minus priceless facial expressions and physical comedy. A WBUR journalist wrote, “…the president benefits from staff standing behind him in support and reporters jotting down his every word. Cooper wanted to take that away and show what it would look like if a black woman spoke like Trump in a meeting.

'“As a black woman who's been in these situations, I was like, ‘I want to be able to do that,’ ” says Cooper, a former Google employee. “I want to be able to b.s. my way through life the way the president has b.s.ed his way through this administration.”

Boy howdy does she bring the BS home.

I mean, watch How to Real Estate.

or How to Water.

and ALL of them.

OMG, I forgot about How to Bunker.

Anyway, GENIUS. Watch them all. Follow Sarah Cooper and support her.

Next up, Charlotte Clymer. I have been following Charlotte since she was Charles, and she is a goddamn force of nature, whip-smart veteran, no-tolerance-for-BS activist who makes America better on the daily. I often learn from and/or am inspired by her commentary, and deeply appreciate all she does for democracy, and LGBTQI and veterans’ issues.

Lastly, Rex Chapman, a former NBA star and continuously good, wonderfully-hearted human who hosts a terrifically comedic Twitter feed that is also terrifically sincere and committed to social justice.

I am an enormous fan of all these folks, each of whom has brightened my days during this bizarre time aka Covid.

Wine and friends are largely self-explanatory, if you have a good dermatologist, you know what I mean, and y’all know how I feel about paint and mulch; the pièces de résistance of wall and yard. The perfect lipstick, the ultimate finishing touch that makes everything appear fresh, new, and bright. [While J has been away, I’ve repainted his room, walls and trim, and honestly, life is better.]

And, lastly, as my new student base rolls in, I am reminded of why I love working with teenagers so much. Their youth, idealism, concurrent lethargy and vigor; thinking dermatologically, they are healthy, plump young skin versus older epidermis in need of so much GD care and intervention. It’s not easy to grow up, to grow away from family and into the unique individual each of us is, to love and lose and learn the life lessons we each must. And yet teenagers have (or should have) everything ahead of them, and it is a joy to partner with them for just a bit as they forge their paths. They are both naive and wise, for they see the world much as it could be rather than weighted with the baggage and cynicism and realism we accumulate over the years. It’s a perspective I am grateful to have consistently in my life, in my own teenager but also (especially) in other people’s teenagers as, minus the trappings of a relationship that can be fraught (even the best of them), I get to see the world with faith and opportunity again.

Wishing you all the best, friends.

Have you read In the Garden of Beasts by Erik Larsen? Hot damn, what a book. Have you watched Broadchurch? Hot damn, what a series.

Both are dark, the first because it’s all true, and the latter because it all could be, but the writing, relevant history, and acting are all sublime and make discomfort worth it all. Olivia Colman is fabulous, and I dare you not to fall in love with David Tennant’s DI Hardy in Broadchurch. Next pet we have will be named, “MILLER!” in his marvelous accent and emphasis.

21 May 2020: Daily

Camp has been canceled, and we are all heartbroken. I know this was the likely outcome, but it is crushing nonetheless. This summer more than ever, the kids needed six weeks away from everything. Away from electricity and news, pandemics and masks, computers and our house. They needed waves lapping at the shores of a tiny, idyllic island, loons calling across the starry skies. They needed a cohort of boys and men in which they could be and further grow into those roles. They needed boats and tools and mountains to climb and homesickness to combat. They needed to work for and earn their own fun in a way that home never provides.

My heart hurts for them, and the camp, and for Tom and me, and for the extended camp family who has never missed a season since its inception in 1902.

FUCK coronavirus. Fuck the hundreds of thousands of deaths from it, fuck the ruin it has wrought—economically, mentally, emotionally, socially, academically. Fuck the broken plans and lost dreams and Zoom graduations and hookups that can’t happen. Fuck the silver linings and positivity that is crucial but sometimes tiresome.

The loss is immense. It is felt in ways big and small. It is enormously stressful, for everyone, in different and variously horrible ways. It is death and isolation and withered relationships and people dealing differently with stress and worry and no one having enough alone time but also too much alone time and privilege and rage and impotence.

It is seeing your kids trying to grow up and away while in the same room as you; you are thankful they share the jokes tinged with sexual awakening and you are sad they have to share them with you.

It is hearing your parents’ voices across a phone line or a screen, missing them terribly and wondering when you will see them next and how, safely. It is wanting to hug and help and not being able to do either. It is watching companies go out of business and proud people ask for help despite body-cringing discomfort. It is realizing that you have NO ONE in the executive branch wanting to or capable of supporting their citizens.

I stay busy when I can’t figure out what to do. I build, saw, sand, paint, plant, pet, tend, water, weed, feed. But I am so tired tonight. And I am down. I miss my friends, my husband, my independence, my life. My LIFE! I am tired of screens and Zooms (even though, I give you an A+ Zoom, because you are the bomb! You are enabling everything right now). I am tired of insomnia and Ambien and cooking 4-6 meals daily. I am tired of building, sawing, sanding, painting, petting, tending, watering, weeding, and feeding. I am overwhelmed by the thought of months of this ahead.

None of this is good for anyone. It’s good for the planet and for nature, and I am so thankful for the break Earth and its creatures are getting, but damn.

This dear one landed on my thigh yesterday while I was working on the fence. It seemed to just want a rest, so I just stayed still for a while. Then, I gently nudged it onto whatever I was holding and deposited it into a blackberry blossom. Look at …

This dear one landed on my thigh yesterday while I was working on the fence. It seemed to just want a rest, so I just stayed still for a while. Then, I gently nudged it onto whatever I was holding and deposited it into a blackberry blossom. Look at those pollen-filled legs. What a gentle giant. My pollinator garden does seem to be attracting such marvelous friends.

17 May 2020: Daily Tale + Humor

Funny!

Has there ever been a time in our country where THIS felt more plausible?

Has there ever been a time in our country where THIS felt more plausible?

LMAO.

LMAO.

Yesterday, a lovely neighbor mentioned that he’d overestimated the amount of lumber he needed for his new fence and would we like the excess plus the extra nails for his nail gun?

Can I hear a HELL YES?!

Initially, Tom intended to replace egregiously ugly old slats and then decided to build a new fence door because ours was both egregiously ugly and broken. Then, it occurred to me that A) the boys and I wanted to learn how to use both a nail gun and the circular saw, B) much of our fence was egregiously ugly, C) it was a gorgeous day, and D) what a great family project building a new fence could be. And so, while Tom worked on the new door, the kids and I got to work tearing down the old slats and cutting/sizing/nailing up new ones. We decided to go with a more modern look, and I plan to stain this once it ages sufficiently.

As we built, Oliver repeatedly sang, “I’m so happy! It’s a perfect day! Perfect temperature! I woke up in a box fort! Now I’m building!” We had so much fun, and honestly, doesn’t this look terrific? Plus, life skills, people!

We did it all without hurting the lilies!

We did it all without hurting the lilies!