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I have been overwhelmingly distracted since yesterday by something terribly sad that happened to an Instagram acquaintance. She lost her child to suicide and posted about it the very next morning. I don't know her in real life, and I've only known her and her family the way you become familiar with online friends who illustrate their lives with beauty and clarity. But I've been aware of them for years, of this sweet boy who's suddenly gone. And his sweet mother and younger brother whose world has just ended, and who will have to start over in an entirely new one, without him. I can't stop going back to her post, and scrolling through pictures from her past. It feels like the heaviest, saddest event to witness (up close, but afar). If you're interested in helping, there is a Meal Train site where people are making donations. 

And of course, I'm sending love out to all the humans I adore so much.

In happier news, I'm in awe of this solar system quilt made in 1876. It makes me think of my brilliant niece Oona.*

Click for all the info!

“The eye that directs a needle in the delicate meshes of embroidery will equally well bisect a star with the spider web of the micrometer." - Maria Mitchell 



*MOM, note, no comma after "niece," as I have more than one brilliant niece!

10

“That’s another great thing about getting older. Your life is written on your face.” - Frances McDormand, 60, one of my heroes.

Also, Pause by Mary Ruefle, mentioned in the article above.

I love reading wise words about growing older.


This morning we looked and looked for the beautiful red fox we saw yesterday on Mackworth. We've done the Mackworth loop walk hundreds and hundreds of time (it's as much part of my routine as brushing my teeth or setting my alarm for 6:30), but we've never seen a fox there before. This guy was big and fluffy and magnificent, with his head held high (unlike the smaller, low-slung gray Oakdale fox). We looked at him and he looked at us. He only trotted away when we moved slightly closer and Gus barked. He looked like the fox I follow on Instagram.

Sometimes she snuggles.

Hey, we went camping last weekend! We drove farther north and east than we've ever been in Maine, so far up the coast our phones got confused and thought we were on Atlantic time.

I ended up with the warmer (borrowed) sleeping bag, and Mark got chilly and we both woke up from the fact that we were basically sleeping on the ground, and we were late getting to the camp ground in the first place and had to pitch the tent in the dark (of course). BUT, despite all that, it was so much fun. It's been so long since I've camped — we always talked about doing it with the kids, but somehow 25 years went by, and we never did it. I love the food preparation (hotdogs on sticks over the fire) and coffee drinking parts of camping, the smells and slowed pace and lack of screens, etc. And this was such an idyllic spot, right by the water, facing east for the sunrise. And both dogs were angelic, seriously. They snuggled up to us at night in the tent, and were happy to be tethered to the picnic table or to walk on leashes around the (empty) campground otherwise. We hiked too, and make great use of all our (mostly borrowed) camping gear.

I found some interesting items for you!

Listen to this episode of WTF with Marc Maron, or if you're short on time, go to 3:48 and listen to what he says about Hail, Caesar. At the time of my hearing this, I still hadn't seen it, and Marc and I don't precisely agree on our most and least favorite Coen brothers movies (he is "not a Big Lebowski guy," while I am totally a Big Lebowski guy), BUT I love what he says about them, about this film, and his general enthusiasm and vehemence on the subject. And I agree on Hail, Caesar's excellence, although my opinion might have been very slightly affected by Marc's admonitions. My Mark was enthusiastic too, by the way. It was so funny, with amazing tributes to old Hollywood and a cast of dozens.

More things for you to check out, dear reader:


Hijabi Barbie, so adorable.

I have Zoë and Isaac's cells in my brain, most likely. And they have mine. And also my mom's. And she has mine, and I have hers. Read this mind-blowing article to get your mind blown.

Pockets are my superpower.

I don't have 44 unread issues of the New Yorker looming, but close. If I could afford it, I would do what this writer did, and haul my New Yorkers to a scenic location for a vacation. Just me and my New Yorkers.

Eight

I just finished five days of black and white photos on Instagram. It was fun--my pictures are usually all about color, even if it's subtle. So it's good to think about light and shadow and composition (sorry, that's all a little pompous when I'm talking about iPhone 5S "photographs."). Anyway, this is the windowseat, and the upstairs hall looks way better in black and white than in real life.

Sunny, cold November Saturday: tea and toast, cat and dog. I'm not letting myself listen to NPR, but instead have soothing Pandora stations going. I'm waiting for Mark to get home with a carload of wood that we're going to fashion into a kitchen ceiling, one way or another.

Self-portrait with two sweaters and coffee.

Can you even believe it's already two-sweater season? I am having a hard time anticipating the Arctic Blast that's forecast for next week, when I'm not at all organized yet as far as long underwear and gloves and so on. I'm not ready.

You know what makes me happy? Knowing that right now Zoë and Isaac are sitting together in a cafe in New York working on their papers and pages of reading. They've spent more time together this fall than they have had the chance to do for years, and that makes me so content, just thinking about it. I miss them less when I know they're together, somehow.


Also making me happy:

: : the Serial podcast, suspenseful as any good crime drama or mystery, and I'm a fan of Sarah Koenig.
: : my fidelity, always always, to the Oxford comma. Isaac lets me proofread his papers sometimes, and I start by making sure the commas are correct (they usually are).
: : anticipating the new Decemberists album.
: : where they at doe?