Accept the fluster of lost door keys

Things I found wrote in my phone notes this week:

“Much will be gained if we succeed in transforming your hysterical misery into common unhappiness.” - Freud

Party invite idea — "Should we break some bread? Are y'interested?"

The way the Property Brothers karate chop the tops of throw pillows continues to haunt me.

A thing that actually haunts me:

When Isaac and Edna were here last month, the three of us were driving on the shortcut road behind Trader Joe's when we saw a man step off a curb, fall flat on his face, and just lie there for several long seconds. I pulled over, and we all jumped out of the car. He insisted he was fine and got up on all fours while fat, dark drops of blood dripped from his nose. Isaac and Edna kept handing him tissues from a box in the car, which he held to his nostrils until we noticed he had a jagged little cut between his eyebrows and told him to press the tissues there. 

We offered to take him somewhere, buy bandaids at the Walgreens, call someone. He said, "No, no, I just need to figure out how to stand up," and somehow I kind of hauled him up from the ground — or, he leaned all of his weight on me and hauled himself up? I encouraged him to: "I'm stronger than I look," I told this massive man. (I wondered if it was true as I said it, and I guess so, because he got to his feet with his hands on my shoulders as I pretended to be something wide and solid). He thanked us, but continued to say he was fine, that he lived nearby, and then he walked away. 

I think it haunts me because I'm constantly questioning the best way to help (I often defer to pretending not to see in an attempt to protect a person's dignity*) and second-guessing whether my help was actually helpful. Also, I wasn't clear what this man's situation was: he seemed sober, wore warmish clothes, Carhartt-ish, had a sturdy backpack. He was maybe in his sixties? Was he down on his luck, or a man who happened to be walking through a down-on-their-luck area of town? It doesn't really matter, except: did he have bandaids at home, or money to buy them...or a home? And why don't I have a first aid kit in my car?

*See: the time I pretended I didn't see a middle-aged man's pants fall down and expose his bare butt as he juggled to-go coffee cups and a bag of pastries. I am positive that guy didn't want my help.

Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes

• Last week (the week before?), Mark and I went to the pharmacy to get the latest in booster shots from a youthful pharmacist. When she asked me to confirm what shot I was getting, I said, "The...Covid...super duper booster?"
• Later we met a dog from Topeka, a golden retriever named Jersey with a pretty white patch on her chest. Her person (name unknown) went to grad school at K.U.
• I think I want to be composted when I die. I just have to hold off until they offer that option in more places (LIFE GOAL).
• Here's a tip: don't look up scalding on Wikipedia.

And now onto an actual adventure we had, visiting Isaac and Edna in New York for a whirlwind weekend. Thanks to Janet, we had a luxurious Washington Heights apartment as a home base. We also had such great luck with everything: the subway, the weather, and (knock on wood) the Covid. Highlights:

• A brief glimpse of Jonah (including hugs)
• FOOD. Ramen at Minca. Breakfast sandwiches and donuts at Win Son Bakery. Coffee (and art) at Amant. More coffee at Buunni. A Chinese feast at Birds of a Feather. Breakfast and treats at Dutch Baby. *
• Finally getting to be in Isaac and Edna's totally charming and cozy apartment and meet their even more charming cats, Kiki and Ilya. 

TBH as we drove out of Maine I thought "WHY?" but it turned out I was really glad we made this trip.

I mean, obviously I was glad. Being with these two in their natural habitat made me deliriously happy.

Isaac is magic.

Edna and Kiki at home.

*bonus: these were all outdoor dining situations, except for Birds of a Feather, where we sat at an indoor table beside a huge door open to the back patio.

The tune your bones play

The solstice started with a soft sky and ended overcast. We struggled to get a fire burning in our rusty fire pit, where I forced us all out into the snow, encouraged by hot chocolate, some with marshmallows, and a hot cup of ginger tea with honey for Edna, who doesn't do chocolate. Every fleece blanket we own was there too, though it wasn't really too cold. I didn't take a picture, there were no stars in the sky, and I hoped that the pitiful flame — not very bright, not very warm* — could symbolize the year we're leaving behind, and not the one that stretches in front of us.

Isaac and Edna, quarantined and tested twice, are here to make a little Christmas celebration with us. We are baking a little and cooking a little, and we have a little tree with a few presents under it.  

The thing about the winter solstice is it's just the beginning of the hardest part, even though I'm a glass-half-full person and the light is growing and I love the snow etc. 

*on our to-do list = firewood, kindling

This year

I have zero cause for complaint. I'm extremely superstitious about mentioning this, but my loved ones are safe and healthy.

But here I go: this is the year in which a predicted snowstorm is likely to cancel Isaac and Edna's scheduled COVID-19 test tomorrow. They also have a test today, but they will have to wait longer for its results, and they're waiting in a generously donated—but very cold—space. This is the year that is keeping most of my beloveds, including my sweetest girl, far away.

Lucky: to have a kid who could drive here, to have a friend who would offer his empty house for isolating. To have enough money to feed ourselves and also buy out the frozen section of Trader Joe's for said kid's quarantine. To have a warm puppy and a warm catfriend and lights on a perfect little tree and batteries for window candles and a tube of almond paste for macaroons in the meantime. To have a car WITH HEATED SEATS and a beach ten minutes away, to walk in the cold wrapped in a warm coat. 

Things I observed recently:

• Crows congregating in a circle, something happening in the middle, but what? 
• A man wearing bright yellow trousers smoking a pipe over his lowered mask. 
• A sweet pit bull in a sweater gazing up earnestly at me, a loving, begging face. 
• Clover at a loss, looking like she forgot something, searching for Mark across the beach, on a day we'd gone without him.
• A police car running a red light, no lights or sirens on, just coasting slowly, brazenly through it.
• One lone bird trapped inside Trader Joe's (I keep thinking and worrying about this bird, days later).

The catastrophe of my personality

Sign of the times

So I suppose I should call this "Diversions Part II." Here are some of my all time favorite favorite wonderful/hilarious classics from the annals of the internets.

The guy "submitting a vocal audition to be the new backup singer for M83."

The talking dog who wants bacon.

Pearl the landlord.

Adorable French girl talks about animals.


And here are some beautiful/specific/inspiring/scary things:

"Quarantine teaches me what I’ve already been taught, but I’ll never learn — that there are so many other ways to be lonely besides the particular way I am lonely."

People from New York are fleeing to Maine — people with fucking summer houses here.

Samin and Hrishikesh have a podcast and it is just as sweet and funny and calming and amazing as I hoped it would be (I've listened to the first episode three times now).

Oh boy, I totally want this!

Rufus Wainwright is playing a song a day on his Instagram, and Yo-Yo Ma is posting songs of comfort on YouTube.


Edna and I are baking vegan cinnamon rolls today. Mark and I found an open beach this morning where we could walk the dogs in the brilliant sunshine at low tide, far from other humans and their dogs. Isaac and Mark are playing basketball today, just the two of them, and Mark spent some hours yesterday fixing an old turntable of Isaac's. Our neighbor's son, having just driven to Maine from LA, came to our door yesterday asking if we had any rope he could borrow, and it was like a horror movie. Mark basically said, "NO!" and shut the door, which if you know Mark...is really something.

"Now I am quietly waiting for 
the catastrophe of my personality 
to seem beautiful again, 
and interesting, and modern."

Diversions

You'd think this working at home thing would be a breeze around here, but my number one priority these past several days has been finding a way to focus and do any work at all, given the distractions, the generalized sense of anxiety in the air, the limitations real and imagined caused by near-quarantine, and the fact that there are now four humans attempting to do this in the same house at the same time.

Still, my second goal is...not to accomplish anything in particular, but to focus on some things. I am hoping to read many books, catch up on my pile of New Yorkers, binge some good TV, cook and bake many delicious foods, buy a ukulele and learn how to play it, go for the longest walks. I have a couple of suggestions for you!

• On SkillShare, you can take classes from experts on a nearly infinite number of subjects, from singing lessons to vegan baking to chair massage to how to do calligraphy. If you sign up for Erin Boyle's class, you can get two free months of SkillShare Premium (you can find this offer all over the place right now, this is just the one I actually clicked on). Even if you're not interested in minimalism, you can be like me and take a personal essay writing class with Roxane Gay or memoir writing with Mary Karr!
• Joe Pera Talks With You is so odd, so quiet and strangely charming, so deeply calming. I find it just as good at reducing stress as The Great British Baking Show et al.
• The YMCA has exercise classes and yoga classes online, as do lots of other places!
• I made a Pinterest board for COVID-19 cooking/baking, and I'm keeping track of what we've cooked and adding notes. So far, I have done the lion's share of the cooking around here, which I am (thus far) extremely happy to do, since I find it really soothing. We'll see how long I can keep it up (last night Edna exclaimed over my soup and no-knead bread: "This is like a really expensive farm-to-table restaurant!!")

What else? I have a pile of books, but if I make it through them I'll probably check out the New York Public Library, which has 300,000 free books you can download (as well as the ebook offerings at my local library). We have been too sleepy to watch movies the last few nights, but we've got plans to view all kinds of good ones this weekend. The sun is due to come out any day now (I mean this literally). 

Thanks, neighbor.

Love in the time of COVID-19

(Updated to add links)

Oh I keep meaning to write something here, but I find myself scribbling in a journal instead (literally, scribbling little sketches of stuff, i.e. dogs, as well as writing words and lists and so on). Here's what's been happening in my house/life:

• Isaac and Edna are here, in limbo as they wait to learn how online instruction will work for the remainder of their semesters. It's a bizarre, sad way for Isaac's undergraduate career to end.
• We've been watching movies:
• Knives Out
• Jojo Rabbit
• And TV:
• The Plot Against America
• High Fidelity
• Better Call Saul
• Homeland
• Even after searching the stores for flour in a frenzy, once Mark had come home, victorious, with a bag from Whole Foods, it took me a few days to decide what I wanted to bake and to actually start baking. Here's what we've made so far:
• Socca, eaten with two friend eggs on top (chickpea flour required)
• Vegan pumpkin pecan bread
• No-knead bread (this is rising right now, and if it works out we'll eat it with this soup tonight)
• Isaac whipped up some focaccia last night, topped with rosemary and flaky salt

It was a more innocent time.

Good things:

• Bare footprints in the sand on the beach 
• A V of Canadian geese flying north overhead
• Clover in her new bed, looking like she's asleep in the arms of a stuffed animal
• The calming properties of a piece of buttered toast
• A video of a man playing Moonlight Sonata on a piano for an elderly elephant's listening pleasure

And finally, notes on getting a massage, which I jotted down over a week ago, which now feels like the distant past (when will we be able to do things like get a haircut or a massage again?):

It sure is weird right now, at this moment in history, to be doing something that involves a stranger putting their hands all over your body. 

I'm glad I don't believe it / For it would stop my breath

"Don't too tight when measuring" is my life's motto.

There was a frosty night recently when Clover was all a-shiver on our evening walk, and I entertained the idea of getting her a little jacket. In retrospect, those might have been shivers of anxiety? Not cold? But I'm looking for an excuse to buy her a cute little jacket.

Isaac and Edna are here so briefly this weekend, swooping in for a day and a half, then off again early Monday morning. We have been planning our spectacular Thanksgiving menu.

Here is a $350 bracelet you can buy that...cools you down or warms you up. It's specifically marketed at ladies of a certain age who are experiencing hot flashes. It's described this way: The Wave provides a similar sensation to the refreshing chill of a cold glass or the comforting warmth of a hot mug. Okay, granted, if you're having a hot flash in the middle of the night, you don't want to have to pad down to the kitchen for a glass of ice water. But...it's three hundred and fifty dollars.

If you need a brief but deeply heartwarming story, I have a cat-related anecdote for you.

What else? It's so very November now, silvery-gray and bare, blowing leaves and cold breezes, dogs curled into balls with their noses blanketed by their tails. We dug out the long underwear, scarves and hats and gloves and Bean boots. We've been making soup and tea and pots of coffee and heating up hot bags of corn in the microwave.