1 July 2020: In this year of our lord...

Friends, today I was rendered speechless.

“Oh!” you might ask, “You saw the news that trump has known for months about bounties placed on American soldiers’ heads by the Russians?”

No, I already knew about that.

“Oh!” you might respond, “You saw that the (completely undercounted) COVID death count in America topped 130K before the estimated July 4 mark?”

Nope, knew that too.

“Ah!” you might then wonder, “You heard that the EU has banned Americans from traveling to any member countries, along with people from Russia and Brazil, because our “leaders” have handled COVID so poorly?”

Actually, I already knew that, too.

“So, what?”

In this year of our lord, 2020, as Cosby and Weinstein are in jail and #MeToo is, mercifully, everywhere, and men are realizing shit, a repairman who was in my home for no more than 2 minutes today to fix a small scratch on our new bed, looked at my fabulous Meow print:

sorry about the angle; the glare is a killer

sorry about the angle; the glare is a killer

and said, “I like your boobies picture. It’s funny.”

This man was at least 38. He has never seen me before. He said “boobies.”

Speechless. And hopeful he is not raising sons. Mine were aghast. Even they don’t say boobies, and they are 11 and 13.

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SMDH and also:

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On a more positive note, my pollinator garden is drawing the masses, and I am thrilled. Just look at this industrious bee enjoying a coneflower.

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Jack turns 14 on Saturday, Oliver convinced me to build a small foundry (terrifying but also cool), both are enjoying their respective art camp this week, and I am loving the students with whom I’m working. As we were supposed to move the boys into camp last Friday, we instead had a backyard campfire and channeled Pine Island as best we could.

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Lastly, PRIDE month has officially ended, but it is always the time to celebrate each human living a full life as their truest self. Be out, be loud, be proud. This photo says it all.

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Now off to enjoy a Politics and Prose webinar with Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey, authors of the truly terrific, She Said.

(What she did not say, was “boobies…funny.”)

23 June 2020: Kentucky + Roddy Doyle

Fortunately, the rampant voter suppression that we witnessed in Kentucky today is not related to the absolute delight that is Roddy Doyle. These two things are connected only by the fact that Mr. Doyle, a prolific, Dublin-based writer who’s just released his 12th novel, Love, assuaged my rage about the shenanigans in KY. If y’all don’t think trump is going to do everything in his power to cheat his way to a second term, you are lying to yourselves or you are without the ability to think.

After an injunction was filed, the doors were unlocked and Kentucky voters were allowed to make their voices heard. Watch this powerful footage.

What can you do to safeguard the right to vote? Can you start working in support of vote-by-mail initiatives? Can you volunteer to safeguard polling places and the rights of the voters who show up to cast their ballots as they are Constitutionally entitled to do? Can you pressure the Supreme Court to regret and seriously reconsider the devastating slashes they recently made to the Voting Rights Act? Can you register new voters?

In the meantime, Roddy Doyle. Last year I read and adored his 1999 novel, A Star Called Henry. Set during the Easter Rebellion and the years just after, while reading it I felt I was living in the Dublin slums of the early 20th century: the River Liffey, the dark bicycle rides in and out of the city to share information, the grit, the hunger, the poverty, the GPO, the hope.

I have two of Doyle’s other novels, Smile and Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha, in my to-read pile and this evening tuned in to his live discussion with Politics and Prose via, you guessed it, Zoom. The event was recorded and although the link hasn’t yet been posted, I urge you to keep checking and to enjoy a wonderful 65 minutes with Roddy when you find it.

He has such a warm, slightly mischievous smile, talked about characters and craft in such an easy, accessible way, and even held forth on the word gobshite for a while, noting that trump is a fine example of one. And really, who doesn’t love a lilting Irish brogue coming at them to ease day’s turn into evening. I look forward to reading Love.

All the best to you and yours.

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.