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.

Small reprieves of coffee and birdsong

The Last week in animals!

A small dog dozing in a wagon, by the beach, half covered by a blanket, the sun warming its old grazing muzzle.

This little brown bird, landing on the feeder with its mouth full of paper or tissue for a nest, conflicted for a bit before dropping it to gobble up birdseed: we've all been there.

A duck couple in a little mulched area of urban shrubbery, beside one of the busiest Portland streets.* Another duck couple, identical, in a video sent to me from Isaac, who filmed them paddling around a canal in Paris, France. 

THIS week in animals!

So many birds, brown ones and starlings and that one dove and chickadees, robins, possibly a hummingbird, purple finches and a goldfinch and my catbirds and more.

Things I Found Online!

I don't think I want to go to here.

No lie, just look at those two.

Hmm I'll go to Lowe's I guess

He's not wrong

LOL

*At least there were no babies, like that time on the highway heading to Ikea.

I look upon time as no more than an idea

Home from a trip to North Carolina with Isaac and Zoë that feels a bit like a dream now, but hey: what doesn't? We were treated to sunny, almost warm days there, sat outside with coffee, walked in gardens, observed more than our fair share of birds, played games, ate food, all with some of our most beloveds.

The road trip part was fun with my copilots, falling asleep in our Aloft to the sounds of HGTV and Food Network and something about a Bigfoot-type creature in Alaska except it's a bird, and the two of them laughing together. Our ritual stop for really good biscuits in Richmond.

The Durham part was an opportunity for much-needed hugs and sorting through photographs and listening to stories and being together — and also Buckaroo Banzai!

A.k.a. buttermilk sky

Now I'm home and it's basically winter again and I put my Bean boots back on and walked under a mackerel sky on the beach. A bit of false spring, a thaw before the weekend. Soup and tea, movies on TV, dog naps. Isaac is back in New York, Zoë finally off to India for her work, after a year's delay. It had been a while since we had the vicarious thrill of watching her move around the globe on a flight tracker! 

Softly searching for my delinquent palaces

Actually just organizing and twisting Mark's arm to let me donate some books to the 'brary (duplicates, Harry Potter, random novels, etc. He likes to hang on to all of it). As I was sorting through things, I found some items of interest. 

Starting with the saddest, I came upon a dust-covered crinkle ball, Theo's favorite. They stopped selling these and replaced them with larger ones, but he didn't care for those. My guess is these were choking hazards? Every few months we'd unearth one from under the fridge or behind a bookshelf and Theo would have hours minutes of fun!

Oh, Theo.

I completely forgot that Isaac had a book signed by David Sedaris.

Also so happy he's alive!

And finally, a find that may have been submitted to Found Magazine. Definitely found by Mom in Cambridge. 

Yikes.

Fingers sticky if I could only hear it

The air is translucent again, after days of thick, sticky heat, and birds singing through it in the yard. It feels like Maine!

Isaac was here for almost a week, and so was Oona, and there was some A+ cousin time, Zoë and Isaac and Oona (and sometimes Jonah) heading to the lake, to visit the food trucks on the Eastern Prom. Friday night, Adam, Oona, Zoë, and I watched Stop Making Sense in Congress Square Park, alongside a five-year-old's rollicking birthday party (birthday boy in a suit, much dancing along to the movie). 

I do keep thinking I should write more here, as a way to keep track of the Things and When they Happened.

Like this, a Kettle Cove picnic-by-the-sea on a hot August evening, with banh mi and cold seltzer and a raspberry swirl pound cake made by Oona and me. No Frisbee was played, no swimming was done, but there were Good Dogs there.

Or this, early on a Saturday morning, after we heard a rumor that Cong Tu Bot had reopened for breakfast only, and just the four of us headed out first thing to sit outside and try their breakfast sandwich and coconut yogurt with lychee and mango and sweet Vietnamese iced coffee and brilliant green pandan coffee cake. Pictured: walking there from where we parked the car, from across the street, I thought, my family!

My color's green. I'm spring.

I've been collecting some things in my wanderings. Striped rocks mostly, and smooth rocks that feel good in your hand, but also these:

This would've been a good rabbit rabbit.

Blurry old sword dance photo of Isaac!

Wait, what?

Can't wait to throw formal magic parties again.

This is a dog reading a newspaper.

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 work of wings

It must be November, because I just found myself googling "heated office chair," and yes, there is such a thing, but no, I don't want one because they're ugly. I wouldn't say no to a sheepskin throw, though. I'm clearly already spoiled by the heated seats in our new (to us) CAR. I am in love with the heated seats.* Also with the windshield wipers that actually make it so you can see through the windshield in the rain, instead of smearing the water around. A pandemic is not the optimal time to buy a car, but it had to happen. Our trusty old girl nearly made it to 250,000 miles! We are I am calling the new one Virginia Woolf. She's a wagon, so there's room to toss a litter of puppies in the back! 

I keep taking photos of COVID signage, for after. We're back to constant mask wearing, to spending as little time in the store as possible, to stocking up on flour and toilet paper and lentils, and strategically planning grocery deliveries so they don't coincide with the constant construction on our street. So many interactions are with a masked face in a window, or a masked face so far away that I can't hear what they're saying and I just smile (smize) and nod. It's going to feel weird to eventually go back to being unmasked; I expect to feel exposed.

As Isaac said back in March when they shut down the basketball courts, put caution tape across the hoops, "THIS IS THE WORST PANDEMIC EVER."

*I swear I wrote this the day before yesterday, before this article came out. I agree that heated car seats are the antidote to our grief, but unlike the author I experience nothing erotic about it. It's 100% "child in the lap of some warm, benevolent bear" for me.

This one has a little star

A fish misadventure* happened here yesterday. Isaac had great plans to grill two whole fishes stuffed with lemon and garlic. The fishes, in their plastic bag from the fish market, felt so very very heavy. And that was because they were full of their internal organs.** As I made a big salad and tried to pay very little attention, Isaac read to me from the "how to clean a fish" website: "First, subdue the fish. Knock it out, and make sure it's dead." Later, after the operation had moved to the back yard, he came in for a large spoon: "I have to scoop out its liver," he said sadly. Mark helped. The yard is still littered with scales that look like shiny sequins. Neither of them wanted to eat fish after they had 65% finished with one of them. We felt the terrible waste of two fishy lives, but said a prayer and double wrapped their bodies and lay them to rest in the garbage.

Then we ordered pizza. 

*This reminds me of something I wasn't involved in but that still haunts me, the story of an unwanted gift of live lobsters and what happens when you put live lobsters in the wrong sort of water.

**Isaac has bought and cooked whole fish from this same market several times before, and they had been cleaned and gutted.

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.

I would swim the seas for to ease your pain

Reminding myself of the chill I got the first time I got a New York Times breaking news email that was coronavirus-related but didn't specifically mention coronavirus. The assumption that 100% of everybody knew exactly what they were referring to. And then a Portland Press Herald headline: NEW CASES SURGE. Just the fact that there was no need to specify cases of WHAT.

Isaac ventured out to the grocery store for the first time in a while, and he wore his suit to do it. It was an event. I've been going the opposite route, hair scraped into a ponytail for maximum mask ease. Gray mask. For a while I was carefully applying mascara before I went into the world, because we're all 100% eyeballs now, but the last few times I didn't even do that. It's all about comfort, and pockets for keeping my debit card handy. Last time I went to Hannaford, I got carded for my tiny box of cooking wine, and I had to scrabble around in search of my wallet and then rifle through it for my driver's license (these masks, they hamper downward peripheral vision, have you noticed?). The whole time I was thinking Really? Do you see these eyeballs? I'm fifty-two goddamn years old and I'm buying 12 ounces of bad white wine.

We've had some days warm enough to open the windows, and it's made this whole situation feel a little easier, although from the look of things it's also made people feel like it's probably fine if they meet up with friends and stand close together, and in the case of my cigar-smoking neighbor, smoke stinky cigars en masse, defiantly. Even Isaac and Edna can't stay away from Christian, who comes by in his sharp outfits (brightly colored jackets and crazy shoes, velvet and suede and satin) so they can take long, socially-distanced walks together and sit, spaced apart, in the back yard.

Gus has stayed with us long enough to celebrate his eighth birthday! He naps so deeply these days, buried deep enough in sleep that I have to put a hand on his side to make sure he's breathing. At night, he snores more loudly than ever. He's taken to eating dirt sometimes, seeming a tiny bit confused at others, but mostly he's still 100% Gus.

I took little Clover to the beach this morning. I like to think that we both looked at this cottage and dreamed of living there, a step away from the sand, with the constant sound of wind and waves.

Come visit any time!

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."

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. 

To the gods, we look like dogs

Long time, no blog. I've been printing t-shirts and writing things and painting and building a fence and being extremely ill for a little over 24 hours. It was weird to suddenly feel that sick and require Pedialyte and saltines. You know how when you haven't vomited in a while you forget how horrible it is?*

The fence is nearly complete, with just the gate left to build. I conveniently fell ill in the midst of the hole digging, so I was able to wake from a feverish sleep and look out the window and see several more fence panels than there'd been before I took to my bed.

Fence inspectors

Isaac is home for the summer, which is wonderful, but I must mention that I'm typing this blorg post at 5:00 in the morning because he went out to play basketball around 9pm and when I woke up around 3:00 he wasn't home yet and I knew he hadn't brought his phone, and I was thinking anxious thoughts including trying to remember exactly what he was wearing in case I had to describe his outfit to the police later. When he finally came home at 4:30, the sunrise soon began to bother me so I got up.

I need to tell you, I've seen so many amazing birds over the last week or two, including red-winged blackbirds and bobolinks (I stopped a birder to ask what these were — "Those little black birds with yellow heads swooping around that field?" He was like a Lemony Snicket character, with his binoculars and his smug certainty, but I was glad to have an answer). Mark bought me a hummingbird feeder, and I was worried because never in my life have I seen a hummingbird anywhere near our yard, but guess what?? Not only did we immediately spot them on the feeder, but I also saw several in our neighbor's flowering tree and then maybe a dozen in our other neighbor's flowering shrub!

Before I forget, I've been meaning to recommend Nick Cave's newsletter (that's the musician Nick Cave, not the visual/performance artist). It's pretty wonderful.



*Initially I thought it was food poisoning, which would've been a real bummer since Mark and Matt ate the same thing I did that day, falafel from our favorite falafel place, and not only was I bereft at the thought of getting food poisoning from the best falafel place, I was also imagining the fence project grinding to a halt as all three of us succumbed to vomitousness. I guess it was rotavirus?

I think it is important to be quiet and in love with park benches

I like to reminisce about how our long-ago instructor in dog class never did get that our dog's name was "Bird," and called him "Bert" instead, for weeks.

I had a dream the other night about nine year old Isaac with his long blond hair and pre-braces teeth. He was a little morose, and was listening to (I think) Death Cab For Cutie through giant headphones. 

Why didn't anyone tell me about these rainbow colored squirrels in India??

Rukmini Callimachi has the most beautiful, soothing voice I've ever heard. Just imagine if you could listen to her softly telling you bedtime stories as you fell asleep, or gently narrating your directions on Google Maps. Unfortunately, the stories she tells are mainly about the Islamic State. Seriously, though, her reporting is brave and masterful, and I recommend listening to Caliphate. 

Living must be your whole occupation

I'm not off to the best start, as far as this posting every day thing. Ah well! I have been spending my days writing things, printing things, and stitching away on an endless embroidery project while watching Bojack Horseman and Forever. In between, I walk dogs, talk to dogs, pet a sweet cat, and let the dogs out in the back yard to wrestle and chase squirrels. Even though I suspect she's out for actual squirrel blood, I love to watch Clover fly around the perimeter of the yard like a cartoon reindeer.

Mark is helping Isaac and Edna move to a new apartment in Ossining, which looks from photos like it has a lovely ornate ceiling and beautiful floors. I am making holiday plans — I always start off with such energy and focus!

A couple of complaints to follow. My house is so dirty right now. Everything is covered in layers of dog and cat hair and dry leaves. I am washing our duvet right now because I'm tired of sleeping with hair in my mouth. Also, I fear that we really really need a new mattress, unless there's some other reason I keep waking up feeling like I've been cage fighting all night long. End complaints.https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/living

Look around

(Jeannette took me to see Hamilton!!)

I keep thinking back on Hamilton, and remembering how even when I was watching it, how sharply aware I was of it as a fleeting moment.

Also, while watching, I kept imagining Isaac watching it and wondering what he would think of those silly musical theater tropes (someone swoops in with a chair, sits on it, pretends to talk to another actor, dances off, the other actor twirls away with the chair...) I mean, I love them, but what would he think?

Come to think of it, 21 year old Isaac might scoff a bit, but nine or ten year old Isaac (I can't believe I'm not remembering specifically how old he was) was a superstar on the stage in Oliver! Singing, dancing, the whole nine yards. He really was great, in a role as one of the pickpockets with one line that got laughs, as I (his proud mother) recall. That was an era of Cockney accents and little tweed vests and hats and urchin shoes around here. Not just Isaac, but Zoë and a few of their best friends too.

They were urchins for Halloween that year.

A bunch of pickpockets.

Don't tell Isaac (right) I said that he is still this adorable.

The guy who played Fagin HATED the kids who played the pickpockets. They cast so many of them, so there were hordes of rascally children running around the theater all the time, and more than once Fagin had strong words, mainly directed to their MOTHERS specifically.

So, actually, that kid has some experience with twirling around with props and posing stage left, etc.

Also, Hamilton was just amazing. It totally lived up to my expectations. I feel like I had one item on my life list (I will not call it a Bucket List because it's against my religion to use that phrase), and now it's neatly crossed out. Not to say I wouldn't love to see it again.