21

I keep going back to this poem.

"I thought about what I wanted for you—
(love love and more love)
but you were already you,
not an outgrowth of my mind"


I am good at #3 and #4 in Jung's list of five things important for living a happy life.


Are we living in a simulation? Prolly.


I realized the other day that I was experiencing being hangry. I hadn't eaten since a stupid bowl of cereal at 9 or something, and somehow it was 5:30 and I was in Whole Foods looking for the fucking soft corn tortillas. Ugh, I just...hated everyone there for a minute. Everyone. I was annoyed by this woman talking on her phone in some melodious foreign language who I kept finding myself walking past, and the Whole Foods employees laughing together and not being immediately available to tell me where the hell they keep the soft corn tortillas,* and the slow slow slow elderly woman contemplating mid-aisle... Also, I felt like I looked like a person who rolled out of bed at went to the grocery store in her pajamas (although I was fully dressed and had just been interacting in a work situation with other grownup humans). So I bought a bar that had almonds and sweetness in it and ate it in the car.


*I did eventually find them, and Mark made me a taco when I got home.

Inside Out

A Pixar sob-fest
for this mother of former
eleven year-olds.

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.

(Almost) The Mud Season of Our Discontent

There was a day, a part of a day, when the universe felt perfectly in balance, so that every single person I love was, at that moment, utterly content. Even though there's no possible way I could know that to be true, still I believe it.

These two are adorable. I like when he says, "It's a weird life, to travel around singing every night and have people look at you."

We've been watching season two of The Americans and slowly working through True Detective with Jason. Both are hugely satisfying, much better than our previous attempt at family TV night (the terrible American Horror Story: Coven, and the genial-but-sleepy Life on Mars).

I can hear Mark cleaning something upstairs.* There is a cat looking at me. I made pumpkin waffles this morning, unwisely following a recipe that was heavy on the cloves and light on the ginger and called for probably a third of the amount of flour necessary. Still! They had chopped toasted walnuts in them and tasted pretty good, once I added lots of flour, with just the slightest numbing clovey aftertaste. Isaac is out with his sweetheart.** I love when I get happy texts or Book-of-Faces messages from Zoë at two o'clock in the morning.***



*It's the bathroom. It is totally my turn to clean the bathroom--he's done it at least the last three times.

**He would object to my vocabulary and the very fact of this sentence. Let's see if he still reads my blog, shall we?

***Usually it's a Tamil or Hindi song/video/poem/joke.

Wednesday

The day after an earthquake can look like this. And even though your dog poops on the floor and you don't get a chance to take a shower, it can still possess some almost-tangible magic.

Gus

Introducing the dog known around here as "the second-best dog ever." Gus doesn't mind, believe me. He is a wonderful combination of goofy puppy and solemn, grateful rescue dog. He spends a lot of time gazing at us soulfully, almost as much as he spends trying to get Theo to play puppies with him.

Gus has only been with us for a week, but I can hardly imagine life without him. He keeps us busy and entertained, has absolutely gotten me off my lazy butt (he is a puppy, after all), and rewards us with his sweetness and softness and eagerness to please.

(Theo is incredibly tolerant of Gus. In fact, I think he's pretty pleased that there's a new tail to swat at and somebody much more interesting than us boring humans. If Gus gets too familiar, Theo bats at his nose with his paws, claws retracted. Adorable.)

We found our boy, via petfinder, at a great rescue called Adopt-a-Lab. It was so much fun to pick him up--even the drive three hours south was exciting. Mark's mom and my sister-in-law Tracey came with me, and they were great moral support and company.

We've tried to keep things low-key this first week, as he adjusts to the newness of everything and figures out who his family is and where he lives and even what his name is. But we have taken him to the woods, downtown, Tandem Coffee (where he made many friends), puppy obedience school, and the off-leash dog park.

Strangely, although having Gus around makes everything better, soothes the loss of our dear Minnow, it simultaneously makes me miss him even more. I've thought of him so much this week. It's like his absence is larger now, sharper, even though life is sweeter with this new puppy.

Idée fixe

The period of mourning was not quite decently long enough before I started feverishly scouting Petfinder and other online dog porn. In fact, the depth and severity of my mourning for my best friend intensified my desire for a new dog--not in six months, not in a year, but now. I've found myself at loose ends, partly because work is light right now, partly because I just didn't feel like doing things I should be doing. To tell you the truth, I felt like climbing back in bed every day, although that made me sad too because the only things Minnow loved more than a good nap were a romp on the beach or something delicious to eat.* If only I had a dog who needed to be walked! So, as it turns out, sometimes you start looking for a puppy and before you know it, you have paid the fee for a rescue puppy and he is scheduled to be delivered to your general geographical area in two weeks.

These two things happened on the same day: I made a commitment to give this puppy a home, and I picked up Minnow's ashes from the vet. Which I handled with calm aplomb until I got to my car with the earthly remains of my friend.

But this new guy, this rescued pup! His name as of now is Augustus, but we're taking suggestions and will cast some kind of family vote once we've met him. He is about five months old, probably mostly Golden Retriever. He will be delivered to Connecticut on October sixth. I am so excited to meet him.

Plus:

I am seventy-seven percent sure I saw a heron in the Fore River as I flew past in my car en route to Target to buy boring paper products yesterday. It was a crazy long long necked seabird for sure. (The Dancer has a knack for naming such birds with great authority when we are walking around the Back Cove. I will see a funny bird and say, "Ooooh, what kind of bird is that?" And she will say, "Oh, that's a long-legged bluebilled tree hugger," or whatever.)

Today I walked to the library, bought myself a coffee at Speckled Ax, walked home. It was a beautiful day with a sky all October-colored.



*See? Soul mates. Although I don't have a taste for snotty tissues, his favorite.

there is winter to heed

well, she's off again. after a whirlwind winter break, the girl headed back to school by way of oneonta, where she'll enjoy a week with max in his new (to him) cabin at pine lake. for him, it's the start of a january term, and for her it will be a week of cooking, reading, banjo practice, walks in the countryside, and no doubt a visit or two to the sauna. zoë's classes start january 17th, so at some point before that she'll hop on a bus back to the city. it was wonderful having her here, and i miss her. i had to buy some stuff at target yesterday, and while i was there i missed her (why at target? i don't know! i just imagined us strolling through target, laughing together at absurdities and so on). this morning i sadly threw out the tiny bit of indian rice left in the fridge from our new year's feast, which was marked on the top with a label in hindi, and missed her. over the next few months we're going to move isaac into zoë's (bigger) bedroom, which is great and makes sense and all, but... oh, you know. i am surprised when i feel at all sad about her moving off into the world, since i am such an old hand at saying goodbye to her, and since i (consciously) feel purely joyful about her happiness, her enthusiasm, ideas for the future, plans, hopes, ambitions. it's so happy, and it's so hard.


a sunset of the city, gwendolyn brooks

you love what you are*

a wintery walk at two lights with mark and zoë this morning. the waves were huge and frothy, and the clouds were crazy too. such a beautiful warm wintery day, and such lovely quiet company.



 

it was pretty perfect for this bittersweet post-holiday week. we're cleaning, slowly, and trying to eat food other than leftover cookies and mashed potatoes and chocolate (not all together, ew), and fitting in some actual work hours and gradually getting back to normal life. although it's life with our girl home from college, and our boy out of school too, so it's way more sweet than bitter, much as we miss having the extended family around to play games and drink coffee and laugh and watch movies.

did you  notice that i neglected the dog-of-the-day? yes, i was thinking that those dogs in the manger might tide you all over for a while. several days, at least.


*from mark strand's lines for winter

happy

i just love the place where i buy bags for my vacuum cleaner. i love the lady who works there, white-haired and german-accented. "you change the filters, yes? very important, to change the filters," she admonishes each time.

i have a sinking feeling of deja-vu. i have mentioned her before on this very blog. that is a little depressing, actually, that a trip to the vacuum bag store is so exciting as to warrant two entries.

oh well. it's the little things in life that make it delightful. like this.

like the song says,

"don't worry, do your best!
in a picnic-y mood, feel so good!
what a wonderful afternoon!
off the limits insolence until midnight yeah!"

sad/happy

i'm feeling sad about barbaro.























(image courtesy of the cbc)


yesterday i would have added a few other items to my sad list: our broken furnace, spewing bad smells and making a noise like when you put a sneaker in the dryer; and our broken car, scooby-doo, which did not start even after m successfully installed a new starter, and was sadly towed away to the car doctor.

however, today is a new day, and the furnace is fixed. with any luck at all, scooby will be fixed by the end of the day and all will be well.

i am feeling happy about this big cup of tea i'm drinking and also about barack obama. this pretty much sums it up.

also, this phrase makes me happy: vegetarian is the new prius.