Missed a day

Blerg, it was November 18 that broke my record! I actually remembered while lying in bed last night, but having pledged to myself not to look at screens after a certain late hour, I accepted defeat and fell asleep instead of blorging.

In my defense, Adam and Jeannette came for dinner (!!!). In other news, a wreath arrived in the mail from Dad so we went ahead and started our annual struggle with holiday porch lights — we seem to go through many stages of them looking weird before getting them to a somewhat normal state. It's early to do these things, yes! But we want to make the most of a Closer to Normal Than Last Year season. 

It's the twenty-ninth birthday of my first baby, my sweet, stubborn, shockingly brilliant girl. She is far away, once again celebrating (or not — I hope she is!) in a distant country. I'll never forget her stories of the first birthday she spent without us, turning sixteen in a German village near the Black Forest, so homesick, but fêted at school with cakes and gifts, held aloft on a chair and paraded around, as her classmates sang! I thought, those Germans really know how to do birthdays right.

Mica mermaid, 1994

It is only a dream of the grass blowing

We were in the back yard the other day and heard a dog barking happily, clearly from a moving car — the sound was in motion. I said to Isaac, "I'm picturing a dog driving a car. Or, no — a dog in a motorcycle sidecar!" I kid you not, a half hour later I was weeding in the front yard and a motorcycle drove past with a dog in the sidecar.

I will tell you another fabulous thing that happened last week: I was at Whole Foods noticing all the "shoppers" with their carts full of upright paper bags and their phones held to their faces, when I spotted one who was wearing a kimono and full geisha makeup.

On a dog walk this week, I was walking by one of those fences that create a kind of zoetrope effect through the slats as you move past, where you can just peek at glimpses, and I saw two adults and a small child enthusiastically dancing by the light of a fire.

I feel so incredibly grateful to be with Isaac this spring, so lucky to be able to celebrate his 24th birthday with him, to bake him an apple pie and watch him open gifts and stay up too late watching him win at Settlers of Catan.

Monday

MONDAY.

Well, hey there. I am not doing a great job at this post-per-day attempt. Today is Monday and it's 5:30PM but feels so much later than that, since it's already been dark for six hours.

It snowed a bit today, flurry.

In less than a week, my firstborn child turns TWENTY. FIVE. YEARS. OLD.

27

Reporting live from Chicago, where I'm visiting Zoë with Mom and Dad, my trusty road trip companions. We have eaten and coffeed well, and seen some Chicago sites, finally met Z's sweet petit ami, and I've gotten to spend time watching BoJack Horseman with my girl, which I've been meaning to watch ever since I saw this great talk by Lisa Hanawalt. It is so good to be here with her.

Because it is such nice landscaping.

33

Our new vacuum cleaner is spectacular at sucking dirt out of rugs (I was delighted and horrified the first time I used it on the living room rug, immediately after vacuuming the rug with our old vacuum, to see SO much dirt sucked up into its dirt compartment. Also, no bag, so you can see the hair and dirt that was on the floor a second ago). It's got this weird attachment for wood floors that I'm less enamoured of, though. It's awkward. It moves like... Well, like Elmo's head moves when he dances (See above).

Long story short, the new one's better on rugs, but the old one's better on wood floors. I think we need a third one for getting dog hair off the couches.

34

Walking on the beach this morning, I coveted certain shingled, modest cottages (million dollar cottages, right on the beach, but otherwise modest). Just imagine waking up every morning and smelling the ocean, hearing the waves. Walking the dogs on the beach right out the back door...in my pajamas!

But every so often there's a newer, bigger, seriously ticky tacky house. Sometimes sort of castle-esque. Kind of a beachside McMansion type house. Which makes me wonder if the people ever stand on the beach, looking at the contrast of their house and the others, and think, "Does this house make me look like an asshole?"

Tomato? Hmm. Actually, do you have any other flavors of ketchup?

38

It's a good day for cover songs. Here is my compulsive collection of covers. Give them a listen, you'll surely like some of them!

Hey, Theo caught and murdered his first mouse last night. He left it as a gift for us in our bedroom. Thankfully, Mark found it first.* Theo proceeded to saunter and strut around all day being proud of himself. He spent hours lying on my arm while my hand was trying to type stuff on the laptop. Purring and smiling.

I keep this on my phone so I can use it for a WOOHOO emoji.

In other animal news, Clover is increasingly scared of fireworks and thunder and breezes blowing window shades unpredictably and so on. We bought some Rescue Remedy for her today and slipped it into her chicken broth appetizer.

Animals seen/witnessed in the last few weeks: turkeys, the usual seabirds, two osprey parents, the usual songbirds, grackles, foxes, skunks, a whistle pig,** the usual dogs and cats, a dead mouse, squirrels and chipmunks, black and white cows.






*Mark historically deals better with dead animals than I do. If I'm being totally honest, he was also better with vomiting children. Speaking of which, you know what I can't handle lately? Gratuitous vomiting on telervision shows. 

**I've converted Mark from "groundhog" to "whistle pig," and Gus is even learning it! Now when I say it, he perks up, like, "Wa-huh? Where?!"

42

Not available in Maine :(

In related news: I never did get to try Bulletproof coffee before it seemed to fizzle out of style. I don't know that it ever came to Maine—although that may mean that it's on its way.

Working on blurbs for brass instruments today, and now I've got this song stuck in my head. Maybe it will usurp "You're So Vain," which had been lodged there since the eclipse.*






 *"Then you flew your Learjet up to Nova Scotia to see the total eclipse of the sun."

43

Rabbit rabbit, sweetest peas.

46

The yard was full of grackles this morning, dozens of them. They enjoy the suet bird food, and they took turns with a squirrel that hung upside down from the roof of the old playhouse, devouring the suet cake I put out the other day. Edward Gorey birds, black and shiny with bug-eyes.

Terms of venery:

A plague of grackles.
An annoyance of grackles. 

I guess I was thinking of the Doubtful Guest. I found nothing in my search for "Edward Gorey bird" that looked like a grackle. But this guy has a definite grackle look around the eyeball area.

47

Looks like August, feels like October.

Little kids with glasses.

Three-legged dogs.

49

Jeff Tweedy turned 50 yesterday. Happy birthday, Jeff Tweedy!

50 til 50

In fifty days, I will turn 50.

Did you know that sometimes trees are shy?

Today's non-Instagram-fabulous snapshot: Gus lying in the fireplace. I need to repaint that brick, it's so impossibly grubby. You can also see the scratching post at the right, which Theo will actually scratch with as much enthusiasm as he does the couch also pictured here. That couch was new and perfect when we got Theo, and he has in the ensuing five years scratched the hell out of it and ripped the fabric underneath so it dangles down unattractively. Plus, this couch is usually covered in dog hair.

Music of hair / Music of pain

This boy turned 20, and his sweet cousin Jonah turned 17, and the days turned sunny and warm enough for opening windows and grilling things and pulling weeds in the garden. Isaac is here for another few days before he heads back to live in New York for the summer (and possibly longer--he's taking the coming year off school). We all realized that the last five months marks the longest period he's ever spent away from home, the longest stretch of days that we haven't seen him in the flesh. It's so good to hug this boy and feed him food and have him drive us around town (he's determined to get his license this summer, and he's a good, confident driver).

I'm listening to this Hamilton podcast, an all-Hamilton, every-single-song podcast, and I don't like it very much so far. But I did just realize that it features different groups of people talking about the songs each time. These people...are very white. I don't know. I will report back. In the meantime, here are some people (of color) talking to Lin-Manuel Miranda on one of my favorite podcasts. And here are some people of different races talking about Hamilton on another of my favorite podcasts.

We finally invested in our own screenprinting equipment, and we have a whole shop set up in the basement, and Milo in Maine is printing its own damn shirts! It makes such a well-balanced work day when I can write all morning and print all afternoon: thinking and sitting work // standing and listening to podcasts and moving work. It feels good. And check out this bear.

My life is kind of bursting with other people's heartbreaks right now. Trying to be grateful for and conscious of my lucky lucky life.


WAIT

by Galway Kinnell


Wait, for now.
Distrust everything, if you have to.
But trust the hours.
Haven’t they carried you everywhere, up to now?
Personal events will become interesting again.
Hair will become interesting.
Pain will become interesting.
Buds that open out of season will become lovely again.
Second-hand gloves will become lovely again,
their memories are what give them the need for other hands. And the desolation
of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness
carved out of such tiny beings as we are
asks to be filled; the need
for the new love is faithfulness to the old.

Wait.
Don’t go too early.
You’re tired. But everyone’s tired.
But no one is tired enough.
Only wait a while and listen.
Music of hair,
Music of pain,
music of looms weaving all our loves again.
Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,
most of all to hear,
the flute of your whole existence,
rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.

Birthday Girl

Well dang. I was going to post every single day, November-style, and somehow nine days have elapsed since I last wrote a little something. In the the interim, there were horrific world events and small personal events and a third whirlwind trip to Ikea and hours of work, much of it in the dark after 4PM, candles lit hygge-style.

It's my sweet baby girl's 23rd birthday, and we are celebrating from afar. If I really get it together, I will bake a pie tonight.

Little Bean

Happy//sad

Last month, my dad had a Big Birthday (one of those divisible-by-five birthdays), and Adam and David appeared in Cambridge to surprise him. He may have had an inkling that something surprising was going to happen, but he was genuinely startled to see them walk into Veggie Galaxy, where he, Mom, and I were eating breakfast. We had a lovely several days, fit many museum visits and copious snacks and long walks in, and at some point realized that it's been years since the five of us were together, just us (sans kids or spouses). I love them all so much, and I am so lucky to consider every single one of them a friend.

(Mom's not in this picture--she took it!)

David, Mom, and Adam at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.

On Saturday, my sweet Aunt Peggy died, my mom's oldest (and beloved) sister. She was 17 when mom was born, and always lovingly mothered my mom in a way that her own mother didn't. I haven't seen much of her for years, but she was a loving presence in my life when I was (unhappily) at Wellesley College, not too far from Peggy's house. I love this photo of the sisters (circa 1945 or so):

Mom's the baby.

A flowery band to bind us to the earth

I've been fighting this cranky feeling lurking in the background of my general happiness the past few days. Just irritation and this sense that time is speeding by, but instead of feeling melancholy about it I'm annoyed. At people, too. ANYWAY, there have been many celebrations this month and there are more to come, so aside from a cyclical dip in fund$ due to various celebration-related expenses and a bunch of late checks (ahhh, the freelance life), all is swell.

Zoë graduated from Barnard College and Columbia University!! We made several voyages southward, moving both kids out of their dorm rooms, attending graduation ceremonies, feasting on Indian food that I still can't stop dreaming about, meeting the girl's friends and teachers and bittersweetly enjoying the neighborhood and campus and community she's loved so very much for the past four years. We are going to miss the fact of her being there, knowing how close she is and how content.

Isaac had a mixed year--a school year he's got mixed feelings about, that is, although academically I could brag like crazy about what he's accomplished. I'm happy to have him around this summer. For a couple of weeks we've got both sweetpeas, and after Zoë leaves for another summer in India, we'll have Jonah here too. Speaking of Jonah, today's his sixteenth birthday, and we zipped down to Cambridge last night to celebrate with Mom and Dad, Adam and Jeannette and Oona.

So, pointing myself toward the summer, my goal is to savor it. Just that, not to let it slip past because I'm distracted by busyness or whatever. I hope to dig in the dirt, work efficiently when I'm working, finish this kitchen project, stay up late, eat outdoors, play games, walk everywhere, pick berries, clean the windows and then open them wide every day.

Stay in the background and be helpful

Howdy, pals! It's May, and spring is finally, grudgingly, putting in something of an appearance around here. Yesterday was the day we celebrate the birthdays of a certain cat and a certain dog (both three years old, which tragically and strangely means something different in the life of a cat vs the life of a big dog--in other words, Gus is older than Theo in a way. I figure they're both teenagers, though). Theo celebrated last night by finding a mouse in the kitchen. First of all, damn, because after years of mouse issues in our kitchen, we thought we'd eradicated all the little holes in the walls whence they came. Anyway, this mouse ran out from behind the stove, directly into the clutches of our big cat, who was completely clueless about what to do next, though he did have a delighted expression on his face. The mouse escaped easily, and Theo patrolled the kitchen all night long. As far as I know, the mouse hasn't made another appearance since.

I have encountered some things on the Internets that I like. This Reddit AMA by my hero, Mary Norris, is one of them. I'm taking my time with it, and I also have a coveted copy of her book checked out from the 'brary. From the AMA, here's a quote I like:

"A copy editor has got to be content to stay in the background and be helpful and not intrude. The two qualities that make the best copy editors are high intelligence and low ego."

I just like it.


I also like this op ed on Baltimore by Killer Mike.

"...in the days since, I’ve watched Geraldo Rivera and Blitzer pander to the audiences of oppression on TV. Rivera was approached by a very sensible man who said, 'Why are you here? Not to cover a calm and peaceful protest -- you’re here to sensationalize it.' Rivera turned his back on him, and at first I thought it was arrogance, but I think it was actually shame. This half-Hispanic, half-Jewish man who comes from two different communities, who knows what poverty and oppression can do, could have said, 'I want to know the real story.'"


And this review of Jon Ronson's So You've Been Publicly Shamed by (one of my favorites) Choire Sicha is great for many reasons, including

"It so happens that I have been ganged up on online, and I have also been beaten up by actual gangs of men on the street. The actual beating is — surprise! — exponentially worse."

and especially

"For women — and for all gender ­offenders, from gays to trans people — insult and the threat of murder are issued simultaneously. Like almost every other book, then, 'So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed' would probably have been handled better by a woman. Often we send a married, ­middle-aged man who makes $250,000 a year (half a million in a good year, ­apparently) to do the job. It’s fine! Ronson is a sweet and particularly talented man. But the actual problem with the Internet isn’t us hastily tweeting off about foolish people. The actual problem is that none of the men running those bazillion-dollar Internet companies can think of one single thing to do about all the men who send women death threats."

Yep, basically. Okay, onto the weekend my dears. We are so nearly at the point in our kitchen project that will require us to go to Ikea and purchase cabinets that I can hardly believe it!

Nineteen

My little Bean is 22 today, somehow. I am older than 22 in this picture, but not by that many years! Funny how time works, isn't it? I remember when this was taken, we were waiting for the ferry to Block Island, the wind was blowing. Zoë wasn't talking yet, but she was signing all kinds of things--"ball" is the one I remember most clearly. During this trip, she did an alphabet puzzle that made it clear that while she didn't yet speak, she knew the entire alphabet (she never did do things in the "right" order--she walked before she crawled, etc). It wasn't all that long after this that she taught herself to read (when she was three). I love to look at this face and see both baby Zoë and grownup Zoë. She amazed me then, and she continues to amaze me with her brilliance and ferocity and sensitivity and sweet beauty and determination.

Pincushion

I had a birthday, and so did Mark, and we also celebrated 24 happy years being espoused* and just October in general, which is a month of lovely colors and coolness and warmth both. Isaac was home for his midterm break, and we fêted him with tasty food and coffee and baked goods from Tandem, and he spent lots of time with his sweetheart and even got some writing and reading done.

Clearly he's my spirit animal.

In the continuing adventures of my digestive issues, I was gluten free for almost three months, which maybe helped? A little bit? Maybe? I was also prescribed crazy antibiotics for a spell, which definitely didn't help, and tried various extreme diets and probiotics, which also didn't do anything for me. The latest plan by my gastroenterologist** is a low dose of antidepressants, which actually--strangely--seems to be helping. Funny that my guts, after all of this, just seem to be a little depressed. I've also started getting acupunctured*** this month, which I looooove, and which may help, if only with the stress that seems to contribute to my issues. Today during acupuncture I composed a beautiful poem in my head that I promptly forgot when I shook off the strange and dizzy relaxation afterward. It was perfect, I think. There was a girl with pins stuck through the skin of her fingertips, and people walking around with acupuncture needles sticking out of them. I wish I could remember it.



*archaic: married
**medical term for tummy doctor
***not a real word, but I like saying it