Isn't it your dream to be wholly invisible someday?

Both brothers were here, it was like a dream! The weather was mild, the walks were long and meandering, the soft serve was soft and sweet and flavored with fresh peaches. David finally won Clover over after nearly five years (she is a little heartbreaker). My brothers! My heart!

And now my parents are roadtripping up from Cackalacky for a visit, hooray!

I'm going to try to turn my attention back to bloggery, away from online time sucks, like Twitter where I get mad at people and compose angry tweets and delete them.

Actually mostly they are getting it. I just like this person's illustration.

Roundabout: paved.

Pandemic: continuing apace.

Brain: lacking focus.

Stomach: generally not terrible.

As an elephant draws itself out of the mud

In world news, I heard a few weeks ago on the BBC that China's famous Strong-willed Pig "died of old age and exhaustion." 

Remembering Mom's watch giving her a list of Star Wars movies she didn't recall asking for. 

The bright green lizard on the brick wall of the patio, Z and Isaac laughing out there when we were all three, magically, in Durham simultaneously (Adam too!).

How funny it is when you actually hear someone saying "Yoohoo," a thought I had just now when I heard someone yoohooing at my next door neighbor.

A dance class in the park, a group of a dozen people practicing their moves (salsa?) in slow motion.

Surely some revelation is at hand

My own truisms:

A silver spoon makes everything taste better

A dog in the bed is worth two in a crate

Early to bed, get up to pee at 11 pm

Things I saw on a screen that made me laugh:

My mother, my hero

Vital clarification.

Reader, I did melt the cheese.

How did they make Barbie's legs do that

Hee hee.

Gmail is gaslighting me

Winter, that was another thing

It me.

• I really love Max Richter's music. I enjoy falling asleep to Sleep, and I'm crazy about the soundtrack to The Leftovers. This Tiny Desk Concert is so good, especially seeing On the Nature of Daylight played live. This is one of the few pieces of music that makes me cry without the use of sad lyrics (or any lyrics). Ugh, I just love it.

• Here is an important news story I'd like to bring to my mom's attention: FURRIES STOP DOMESTIC VIOLENCE ASSAULT.

• And here's more on the luckiest lady in the world, the Scottish woman who can't feel pain or anxiety. And did I mention she lives in Scotland?


"Whenever I pressed Cameron for details about a seemingly devastating occurrence, she wasn’t evasive; she was mystifying—always ending up on a lovely memory, via a route so unforeseeable it was as if it, too, were determined by a child with a map."

Uncut Gems

Adam Sandler — wow!
And Mom was so thrilled during
the basketball scenes!

One must have a mind of winter

Food, fire, walks, dreams, cold, sleep, love, slowness, time, quiet, books, seasons – all these things, which are not really things, but moments of life – take on a different quality at night-time, where the moon reflects the light of the sun, and we have time to reflect what life is to us, knowing that it passes, and that every bit of it, in its change and its difference, is the here and now of what we have. 

More by Jeanette Winterson on the lovely, cozy, dark seasons of the year here.

It snowed. We have warm lights on the outside and the inside of our house, toasty sweaters and socks, and thanks to Mom and Dad, a brand new heated mattress pad on our bed.

I met Emily today to go Christmas shopping, which we did while clambering over snow banks and avoiding icy puddles. We also sat for a long time talking over coffee at a cafe, which was so lovely. I spent precisely eight dollars on teeny stocking stuffers and took pictures of other things to contemplate later. 

So much in the holiday spirit was I that I also ordered special stamps for my theoretical holiday cards!

If you ever feel daunted by the snow and cold, get yourself a dog with a mind of winter. Or two.

Living is no laughing matter

(Birgit Puve for The New York Times)
ALL OF MY GOALS ARE PRESENT IN THIS PHOTO

Gearing up for the month of November, when it's my tradition to write something in this blorg every single day. The summer was a rush of rabbit rabbits, apparently — and that's how it feels looking back, fleeting and sweet and bright. Oh, summer.

Changes

What a luxury to have a little time to prepare for change! Gus will die of lymphoma, but he is 100% dog right now, happy to walk and bark and eat and lie around in the yard and ride in the car and wrestle with Clover. He is receiving a few last chemo treatments, but they aren't too hard on his body. The last couple of nights it took him forever to work up the resolve to climb the stairs at bedtime (he's always always needed a running start). I don't know if the chilly weather is making him stiffer than usual (if so, I can sympathize). Anyway, it's sad to hear him crying as he tries to psych himself up to do it.

Mom and Dad are moving to North Carolina, and not to jinx it, but they got to have the bidding war of their dreams on their beautiful Cambridge condo. They came to stay for a week while all the open houses were happening, and I think aside from possibly a Christmas or two, it was the longest they've ever stayed with us. Despite my dad's motto about fishes and visitors and how they smell after three days, it was so fun.

The air turned so cold that I put the heat on Friday night for the extremely quick fly-by visit of Holly and Maia, despite the fact that there are still air conditioners in two windows and most of the storm windows aren't closed. Leaves turning, birthdays approaching, my favorite most bittersweet time of year.

Challenges

My weird work life sometimes throws up these challenges, and it's my habit to accept each one breezily and then spend some private time panicking about what I've committed myself to, before ultimately pulling it off somehow. It's so regularly terrifying that it feels like it should pay better. But probably it's good for me?

Creatures

Mark is out of town for a few days and Clover loves me more when he's away! My yard is full of little brown sparrows.

Like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers

Spring

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

To what purpose, April, do you return again? 

Beauty is not enough. 

You can no longer quiet me with the redness 

Of little leaves opening stickily. 

I know what I know. 

The sun is hot on my neck as I observe 

The spikes of the crocus. 

The smell of the earth is good. 

It is apparent that there is no death. 

But what does that signify? 

Not only under ground are the brains of men 

Eaten by maggots. 

Life in itself 

Is nothing, 

An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. 

It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, 

April 

Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers. 

(Thanks, Mom!)

Blood is thicker than water

I was thinking about health today, and growing older, and drinking water or forgetting to. My parents are such good water-drinkers — it's part of their routine to get glasses of water before bed, and if I were an excellent host I'd always leave a carafe of freshly filtered water by their bed when they come to visit.*

Anyway, I was just drinking some water and thinking about water and dehydration and realizing that lately every time I realize suddenly that I haven't been drinking enough water, I think of this one phlebotomist who was disappointed in me because I was dehydrated and she couldn't find a good vein. But...phlebotomists love me, I thought. How can this be possible? "When did you last drink water?" she asked me, frowning. I was instructed to fast for twelve hours, so it had been twelve hours since I drank water. Still, I felt I'd let her down, and vowed never to disappoint another phlebotomist again.






*Note to self: add carafe to wish list. Also, filter. 

WEEPIPR

My maternal grandmother's habit of saving all types of plastic containers, including yogurt pots and flimsy bowls from microwavable dinners, and using them to eat from every day despite having cabinets full of china, has inspired me to do the opposite. I know my mom would say the same—I'm pretty sure that she began using "special" dishes and cutlery all the time, instead of saving them for "special," soon after the time we stayed in my grandmother's Kansas house and helped her move into an assisted living place.*

Aww, spoony spoony.

I've done the same thing, especially since we were able to remodel and simplify our kitchen. There is one silverware drawer with all the silver we've collected over the years, and one with mainly stainless steel but also a cache of (unmatched) silver teaspoons. I love to use those spoons.


Our next door neighbors moved out abruptly last week. Well, it was abrupt from our point of view, but who knows. To them it may have taken forever. They were renters, from the elderly owners (who moved in with a daughter in Illinois years ago, and may or may not still be living. Before they left, the German retired philosophy professor, famous for scaling ladders and trees to paint his house and do extensive pruning well into his 70s and early 80s, gave Zoë a beautiful typewriter with a German keyboard). Yesterday there was a man with a metal detector combing the yard. I wonder if he was looking for something specific (A lost piece of jewelry? A time capsule buried years ago?), or if that's just a thing people do when they move, just in case. I am imagining the house will be sold. I am really going to miss hearing the kid next door practicing his bagpipes, and yes I mean that sincerely. Mark and I referred to him as "Wee Piper" despite the fact that he is now in high school, because of his mom's vanity license plate, which read WEEPIPR. Also, he was a Boy Scout and sold us an affordable and lovely Christmas wreath every year. And once, he and Mark teamed up to rescue a baby squirrel. They probably lived there for five or six years, right next door, and those are all the interactions I can think of. My neighborhood is weird.



*Mark was there too. We were children, practically. It was fun, and later we found out that there was a carbon monoxide leak in the house that had no doubt put a madcap, lightheaded spin on the whole thing.

I'll be Scout in the ham costume*

Best screenshots of the day:

Would you care to be in my tableau vivant?

I love my mom.

*Inspired by Joanna Penn Cooper.

22

I drove to Chicago (all things know, all things know) and back. Mom and Dad and I are great road trip companions, and we had only as many adventures as we wanted to have.

Saddest little rest area shop display in Ohio.

Zoë doesn't officially start classes til next Monday, so we got to do a lot of fun activities with her, including the architectural boat tour on the Chicago River.

They would be cool even if they weren't iconic.

Mom, Zoë, and I also got to spend an afternoon at a giant, wonderful, strange Korean spa. There were two sections, one with "baths" and lots of naked ladies (including us), and another with dry saunas, nap rooms, a movie room, a restaurant, an "oxygen room," a freezing cold "ice room," game rooms, and more. Also there were people of every gender clothed in what I thought of as prison jammies.

Illicit locker room photo, featuring me looking slightly hysterical. Later, I was disconcerted enough at the being naked part that I kept leaving my locker open with all my worldly goods inside.

If you ever get to go to a Korean spa, I recommend it. There's one in Dallas that has a waterpark attached to it.

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.

You'll Freeze Out There

I enjoy watching people gesture wildly when I can't hear what they're saying. The other day, at the Harvard Art Museum, my parents and I enjoyed several long minutes watching from a balcony as a woman below us gesticulated in an animated way in the direction of a marble statue. She seemed to be explaining or commenting or lecturing for the benefit of her companions. Her hands moved in pointing, slicing, chopping motions. Just now I watched two women across the street walking together in the cold, stopping periodically so one of them could wave her arms about and move her mouth. Was she angry at the other woman? Telling a funny story? Why couldn't she keep walking while she told it? It's really cold out today.



Among today's words I've so far blurbed: plutocrat, podcast, pocketbook, poach, plywood. I wanted to go overtly political all over "plutocrat." I wanted to gesticulate wildly, in fact.

I love podcasts.
I have a strong feeling about plywood, too.
I have learned to poach an egg pretty well, if I do say so myself.
The word "pocketbook" makes me think of my grandmother.
The word "plutocrat" makes me angry.

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.

Theo Loves Me So Much

No, really, he does.* Mark was very happy to see me after my ten days away, and Gus was moderately interested in my return, but when I walked in the house, Theo came running over and threw himself at my feet (he flops over on his side and gazes endearingly up at you when he wants to be petted and scratched and kissed on his head). He is the nicest cat.

Keeping an eye on me at all times.

As happy as I am to be home (I missed Mark. I missed my furry boys, and I missed my routine/life, which is a pretty good sign I think), now I am nostalgic for my time living the hotel life in Zoë's neighborhood, with Mom and Dad for roommates, and Zoë just around the corner.

Hotel lyfe.

Best parents.

A sweet scholar I know.

*Although there is no doubt, he ADORES Isaac.

Home

Or nearly home, paused in Cambridge until I get fetched (along with the loot I bought at Ikea) in the car by Mark. Mom and Dad treated me to so many delicious meals on this trip, and the sweet potato sandwich I just ate at Clover was one of them.

Overhead, at Clover Central Square. Why oh why don't they come to Portland?

Hyde Park

I tried on a shirt yesterday covered, subtly, with tiny birds.
But...Peter Pan collar.

It was a warm day, so the thermal layers of undershirts, socks, tights, vests, and jackets were less appealing than they had been on the chilly Thursday previous. Still, I was able to buy Zoë some early birthday presents, toasty layers of warmth and flannel for when it gets bitterly cold.

This morning is my last in Chicago--it's been incredibly luxurious to have a whole week to visit the girl (thanks to my mom and dad, who got us a hotel room right in her neighborhood, just a few blocks from her apartment). She's been busy every second, but we've eaten many meals with her, seen where she lives, traced her route to campus and work, and she and I even got to work together a few times (me on billable stuff, her on grad school stuff). Hyde Park is lovely, comfortable and neighborhoody. We are leaving her, not just with warmer clothes, but her winter things, her banjo, many books and kitchen appliances (pressure cooker, idli maker--the essentials, if you're Zoë). Also, again thanks to my sweet parents, a bedside table and a dresser, a floor length mirror, new towels, bathmat, and other goodies from Ikea.

Miss her already.

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.

31415

Happy Pi Day, lovey doves. I crowd sourced ideas for the best kind of pie to make today, but I plan to disregard all the great suggestions (pecan, sweet potato, cherry, etc) because I've got four ripe bananas and a creamy dream of banana cream pie in my head.

Lulu is visiting for two weeks while my parents gallivant around northern California and Portland-the-Second. I hesitate to mention this, for fear of jinxing it, but she has been quite civilized so far, waking me at 6:45 or even 7:00, rather than, say, 4:45 in the freaking morning. We mince around the block, Lulu sniffing each individual brick, me breaking every bit of ice that my feet can find. Later in the morning, Mark and Gus head off to the beach while Lulu and I settle in for a long walkabout. Mostly, I let her decide which direction to go, and I catch up on my ever-expanding podcast list.

Don't let my glad expression give you the wrong impression.

Isaac is also here for two weeks, for a luxurious spring break! Zoë, meanwhile, is using her break (only one week) to visit Berkeley, one of the grad school possibilities. Did I mention that at least two grad schools have pretty much offered to shower our girl with money, attempts to lure her to study with them? She is weighing her options right now, but what looks certain is that she won't need to take on any debt whatsoever to get her PhD. So, so proud of her and curious to see what she decides! As of now, it looks like she'll either be in California, Chicago, or India next year.

This weekend's kitchen plans include building a pendant light fixture that will hang over the sink. I'll show you when it's done.