My Shot (from the Hamilton soundtrack)

[Sarah's Besties gave her the "Rise up" bracelet a few days ago as one of her birthday presents; I bought the "How lucky we are to be alive right now" bangle for myself at the beginning of the pandemic!]

Recently back from an overnight getaway that was life-changing.  My daughter Sarah's 39th birthday was yesterday and, to celebrate, she wanted to check into a hotel on the beach, at first as a solo adventure but, when she decided she'd rather have company, she invited me!  Be still, my Mama Lion heart... 💓

It began as a west-coast-of-Florida plan (Marco Island or Naples), because of our memories of family vacation at Ft. Myers Beach as well as hopes for a sunset viewing; unfortunately weather reports on that side of the state were not favorable, so tag, Ft. Lauderdale Beach, you're it!

I told her I'd supply breakfasts, lunches, snacks (all vegan, of course!), and beverages (alcohol- and non-) for the trip.  A bit of backstory is that I helped her make a mix CD years (9?) ago for a friends' road trip to Key West, and I still had a copy (!), so I popped that in as soon as I picked her up at 10:30 a.m. Sunday.

We got to the hotel about 11, and our room was ready so we were able to check in immediately (small Mom-and-Pop place, clean, right on the beach, 6th floor ocean view), and were down at the beach by 11:30 a.m., Bloody Marys in hand, with yummy vegan quesadillas, and seconds on Bloodys.  The resort fee included lounge chairs and an umbrella, and we were smart to avoid direct sun most of the day.  Ocean was very calm the first day (people were actually paddleboarding!), and we took multiple dips to refresh and cool off.  We segued to grapefruit vodka with grapefruit seltzer, then Long Island Ice Teas (cheers to Connie/Mom/Mimi!), then chick'n salad on whole wheat buns, then another round of LIITs.

Came out from under the umbrella about 3 p.m. for some sun; throughout the day we segued from laughter to deep conversation back to laughter.  Beach Chair Man said he was collecting lounges about 5:30, at which point the sun had dipped behind the building, so we went for a walk, and Sarah got the low beach chairs out of my trunk, and we sat for another hour and a half, then went upstairs to shower and change.  Had some wine, followed by Fireball shots (accompanied by a hilarious video that will *never* see the light of day!).  I drank more in 12 hours than I have in the previous six months.  This probably goes without saying (if you've met either one of us), but we are both fun "drunks" (nothing sloppy, belligerent, slurring, repetitive, stumbling); as I said before, so much laughter!

At that point, we hadn't decided what to do about dinner, and decided to visit their downstairs open-air restaurant about 8 p.m.; Sarah had a lobster wrap (with a side of the best fries either one of us had ever had!), I had a yummy salad with black bean crumbles instead of lobster and, yes, we also had wine with dinner... 😄

Back upstairs by 10 p.m., snacked on dark-chocolate-covered pretzels and oatmeal raisin cookies, and in the bed by 11:30 p.m., thankyoujesus with two extra-strength Tylenol and, believe it or not, I felt great the next day!  Sarah went out running on the beach (it was now officially her birthday... 🎂), back to the room by 10:15 a.m., organized our stuff to be ready for a 1 p.m. check-out, and we were back down at the beach by 10:30 a.m. with our second cup of coffee and a vegan breakfast sandwich. As much as Sunday had been a day of decadence and ruination, we declared Monday to be all about detox and rehab, only imbibing water or flavored seltzer.  We stayed under the umbrella the whole time, other than another walk on the beach, and a dip in their pool; we both started new books and, lunch was leftovers from the night before.

 

Between the breeze and the lulling ocean sounds, I managed to squeeze in a 20-minute nap; sadly, all good things must come to an end and we thought it best to get on the road no later than 4 p.m. so as to avoid rush-hour traffic.  Oh, I forgot to mention that we were toasting throughout the two days, with Sarah insisting on a selfie each time (I learned the not-so-subtle art of the head tilt... 👵👸) and, when we got back to Sarah's about 4:45 p.m., we sat in the car and scrolled through.  More laughter!

To quote Angelica Schuyler in Hamilton:  "I realize three fundamental truths at the exact same time":

~ I am in awe of Sarah's kind, generous, smart, beautiful, thoughtful, wise self.  Even if she weren't my daughter, I would choose her for a friend  

~ I can still do everything I used to do; it just takes me longer to recover

~ Although the priority of this trip was obviously Sarah's birthday adventure, it was also a much-needed getaway, to remind me there is a whole world beyond the walls of my condo complex.  I can be carefree, d*mmit!

SONG:  My Shot from the Hamilton soundtrack

BOOK:  Badass Affirmations: The Wit and Wisdom of Wild Women (Inspirational Quotes and Daily Affirmations for Women) by Becca Anderson

POEM(S):  The Daughter by Carmen Gimenez Smith

We said she was a negative image of me because of her lightness.

She's light and also passage, the glory in my cortex.

Daughter, where did you get all that goddess?

Her eyes are Neruda's two dark pools at twilight.

Sometimes she's a stranger in my home because I hadn't imagined her.

Who will her daughter be?

She and I are the gradual ebb of my mother's darkness.

I unfurl the ribbon of her life, and it's a smooth long hallway, doors flung open.

Her surface is a deflection is why.

Harm on her, harm on us all.

Inside her, my grit and timbre, my reckless.

Daughter by James Lenfestey

A daughter is not a passing cloud, but permanent,

holding earth and sky together with her shadow.

She sleeps upstairs like mystery in a story,

blowing leaves down the stairs, then cold air, then warm.

We who at sixty should know everything, know nothing.

We become dull and disoriented by uncertain weather.

We kneel, palms together, before this blossoming altar

QUOTE:  "What greater aspiration and challenge are there for a mother than the hope of raising a great son or daughter?" ~ Rose Kennedy

"I tell my daughter every morning, 'Now, what are the two most important parts of you?' And she says, 'My head and my heart.' Because that's what I've learned in the foxhole: What gets you through life is strength of character and strength of spirit and love." ~ Viola Davis

Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise (The Avett Brothers)

An interesting week, to put it mildly.  I was experiencing my own turmoil in various aspects of my life so, as well as turning inward to find the growth opportunity, I had some great conversations with a few dear friends and family members.  These days I find myself very scattered, unfocused, disorganized... which meant that the agenda items I was attempting to accomplish ended up with multiple mistakes, meaning that I spent more time correcting than I did accomplishing.  Yikes.

Also, over the last week, Sarah has been working with Colin on his listening skills, especially walking through their apartment complex, making sure he knows that the command of "red light" means STOP... immediately!  She is also teaching him about looking left-then-right-then-left-again, then holding her hand at a busy intersection before crossing, even in the parking lot.

I of course had an epiphany that I should use that as my life-metaphor for a while; rather than rushing headlong into potential problems, I would internally look left-then-right-then-left-again, especially where emotions are concerned.  What's the hurry?  Look how much time we have available to ourselves these days.  Use it as a commodity, and not a catastrophe.  Slow the f*ck down, Susan.  Better to delay my response than to say or do something I'd eventually need to back-pedal or retract.  I had a few occasions today in which to do just that, and the outcome was better than hoped for.  Colin became the Master and I the Grasshopper.  "The teacher appears when the lesson is ready to be learned", right?

I've also recalibrated a few other things in my life, beginning with TV.  I do love movies and series, but I've lately been using them to numb out, rather than escape.  Plus, every minute I spend in front of a screen, I am taking away from my primary love:  reading.  Vowed to turn that around and, over the course of the last few days, I am much calmer and more "here".

My sleep patterns have been really off too, because I am waking up earlier, eager to face the day (with a book), but then there's just so much of it (ha!).  My new end-of-evening routine, also instead of TV, is to turn the lights down low, stretch out on the guest room couch with Pandora, headphones (my new best friend!), and The Avett Brothers station (which has included James Taylor, Neil Young, The Rolling Stones, Coldplay, The Beatles, for about an hour (the Dar Williams station is great too).  I can then segue very easily into sleep in my own bed... hopefully by midnight.  Aaahhh!

What are some effective coping mechanisms for you?  How are you getting out of your own way (and head) to take better care of yourself, without falling down the rabbithole?

Of course, the news is full of gloom and doom, panic and pandemonium, chaos and crisis.  This essay by Mark Morford (my favorite SFGate-columnist-turned-yoga-instructor) popped up in my e-mail yesterday.  Perfect timing!

How to avoid the temptation to drown in fatalism? Learn to swim. You know, spiritually speaking.

You don’t have to ‘look on the bright side’ or ‘focus on the positive.' This is a myth, and often feels forced and childish, in denial of events and issues deeply in need of your passionate attention.

Just stop obsessing on the dark and the bleak. Stop fetishizing doom. Step back from the addictive abyss of incessant dread, and find some stillness.

Note that this does not give you license to numb out and refuse to read any media, engage in any essential discussions, form any opinions whatsoever because you deem yourself too precious and "sensitive." That's merely avoidance, vain self-importance disguised as humility. It''s also bullshit, just your ego being passive-aggressive with the gods. Your rejection of reality, of the harrowing vagaries and difficult beauties of the human condition, is of no service to anyone, particularly yourself.

It is also, of course, unwise to try and take it all on, to try and make sense of everything that's happening, slot it all into reasonable boxes of legitimacy. This way madness lies, along with a crushed spirit. It's also impossible. The gods wish to remind you: The karma of the world is not yours to solve. You gotta learn to navigate.

Here is the most difficult thing you can do, and also the simplest: Get strong and clear and calm – get your manic thoughts and doomsday-obsessed emotions out of the way of your innate divine intelligence – and then watch what emerges, spontaneously, from the innermost heart, your truest Self.

Hint: It ain’t gonna be cruelty. It ain’t gonna be violence. It ain’t gonna be MAGA or guns or racism. Nor, conversely, will it be all-day rainbow bunnies and perky 'it's all good' nonsense.

Sit. Fucking. Still. Get real.

It might not be comfortable. It won’t at all be easy. But it will look shockingly like love.

NR:  Beartown by Fredrik Backman (excellent novel by the author of A Man Called Ove... 💖 )

 

SONG:  Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise by The Avett Brothers

BOOK:  Life Is in the Transitions:  Mastering Change at Any Age by Bruce Feiler  (thanks to AmyB for the heads-up!) 

POEM(S):  it will all be messy for a little while longer by Maya Stein

“I feel a little rough around the edges,” I say to a friend on a video chat, because this is

how it is now. And she replies, “We all are,” though from where I’m standing she looks

beautiful, glowing, a midday California sun arrowing photogenically on her cheekbones,

so I tell her so. She says, “I like you in that blue hat” and “It’s so good to see your face,”

and I think about how much faster we’ve gotten with telling the truth. I hit “record”

again, say something about the latest harvest from our garden, about my mother’s

upcoming visit, and she says something about the date she’ll go on after her

appointment with the therapist. It will all be messy for a little while longer, but we don’t

say any of that. Instead, I pan the camera to a body of water and she says, “Where is

Scott Street?” and we say “I love you” and “Talk soon,” because this is how it is now, too.

We Did Not Ask For This Room by Stephen King

We did not ask for this room,

       or this music;

       we were invited in.

Therefore,

because the dark surrounds us,

       let us turn our faces toward the light.

Let us endure hardship

       to be grateful for plenty.

We have been given pain

       to be astounded by joy.

We have been given life

       to deny death.

We did not ask for this room,

       or this music.

But because we are here,

       let us dance.

QUOTE:  "People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in their true beauty is revealed only if there is light from within.” ~ Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

Free to Be You and Me (Lawrence/Hart, sung by Sara Bareilles)

March 15, 1933 – September 18, 2020

RIP RBG! (Rest in Power, Ruth Bader Ginsburg... 💙)

I have had this blog post in draft form since August 1, when I finally got around to watching the documentary about her, and something always came up to push it back.  Sadly, it can no longer be delayed.  With all the strength, intelligence, grace, tenacity, wisdom, courage, and fierceness she displayed throughout her life (fighting cancer multiple times, falls incurring broken bones, etc.), RBG finally did something we honestly never thought would happen:  she died, from complications of metastatic pancreatic cancer, at the age of 87.

From The New York Times (full obituary here):  

Remembrances for Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg poured in.

Justice Stephen Breyer called her “a great justice; a woman of valor; a rock of righteousness.” President Trump said “whether you agree or not — she was an amazing woman who led an amazing life.” Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez lauded Justice Ginsburg and said the fact that her death had touched off a political furor was a sign of an unhealthy democracy.

Americans paid their respects to Justice Ginsburg from the Supreme Court, where a crowd recited the Jewish prayer for the dead, to the steps of her Brooklyn high school and courthouses across the U.S.  A mother who urged her to constantly be independent. Teachers who encouraged her. Having selective hearing in a marriage. 

Justice Ginsburg, the second woman appointed to the Supreme Court (in 1993), earned her late-life stardom with pointed and powerful dissenting opinions. 

Ginsburg dictated this statement to granddaughter Clara Spera in the days before her death: "My most fervent wish is that I will not be replaced until a new president is installed."

I know this sounds dramatic, but the fate of the free world is at stake, making the difference between a 6-3 and a 5-4 power balance of conservatives vs. liberal judges.  The fight is on.  My daughter Sarah, her friends, and I were brainstorming yesterday morning via text as to what we could do to honor RBG, and potentially stop a Supreme Court nomination/appointment until Biden is elected.  I supplied the quote, and Sarah's friend Didi, a Photoshop genius, came up with the graphic below.  Please share liberally, and call the number listed to protest.  Let's tie up those phone lines.  We can do this!

P.S.  If you have not yet seen RBG, the documentary, find and watch it immediately (I believe it's on Hulu, and CNN has been running it the last few days as well).

SONG:  Free to Be You and Me by Lawrence/Hart, sung by Sara Bareilles

BOOK:  Notorious RBG: The Life and Times of Ruth Bader Ginsburg by Irin Carmon, Shana Knizhnik

POEM(S):  Justice by Amber Tamblyn
A love letter to our supreme court Justice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg

Dear Ruth, you ruthless
justess of justice,
with your hair bun tighter
than a T on the chest of a wrestler,
and your face giving negative triple F’s
about wrinkles,
and your record
on women’s rights
on fleek,
and your record
on men who want to be on record
on women’s rights
but have no right
also on fleek,
and that one time, back in ’00,
when you ruled Boy Scouts should allow gay Scoutmasters,
and back in ‘03,
when you ruled that the LGBTQ community
should be a constitutionally protected class,
and that in ’00,
when you wouldn’t allow prison sentences to lengthen retroactively,
And then in ’07, when you said states could regulate
polluters and greenhouse gas omissions,
and that other time,
when you said tax payers shouldn’t have to pay for church materials in school
not because you didn’t believe in The Divine,
but because you didn’t believe in forcing The Divine
on anyone,
especially children,
and even that one time, in ’11,
when I didn’t like your stance
on church rights to picket gay funerals,
I still loved you,
because the 1st amendment
is your 1st priority,
and that is so HOT to me,
and those many times
you gave Scalia the hand
and Roberts the finger
and that one time,
when you voted to let rape victims
sue their attackers as a gender-bias crime,

and when you were all,
“Women will only have true equality
when men share with them
the responsibility
of bringing up the next generation.”
And when you were like,
“That’s the dissenter’s hope.
That you are writing (law) not for today
but for tomorrow.”
And then, when you just went,
“The state controlling a woman
would mean denying autonomy
and full equality,”
then dropped the mic,
and walked off stage,
your black gown flowing
to the sounds of applause
for generations to come.

Dear Ruth, you ruthless
Justess of justice,
you gavel witch,
you lovely heart
you protector extraordinaire,
you golden icon of grace,
I have just one question,

Will you marry me?

In case you haven’t heard,
it’s legal now.

In the Steps of RBG by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Real change, enduring change, happens one step at a time.

—Ruth Bader Ginsburg, as quoted in Notorious RBG

So let me take one step right now,

one step toward respect.

And give me strength to take another

toward clarity. And though

my feet might feel like stones, let

me take another step toward justice.

And another toward equity. And another

toward truth. And though my legs

may feel leaden and slow, though someone

else may step on my toes, may I inch

toward forgiveness. May every step

be toward a bridge. Enough divisiveness.

And as I go, may I find joy in the stepping,

grace in the edging toward great change.

But if there’s little joy, let me step anyway.

Then take another step. And another. And another.

QUOTE:  "Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you." ~ Ruth Bader Ginsburg

Harvest Moon/You and Me (both by Neil Young)

Today, September 18, 2020 marks our 44th wedding anniversary.  It's been a long-standing joke of mine that, like the famous 12-step program, we do our marriage One Day at a Time (that would be 16,060 days, but who's counting?... :-)

Chico (given name Robert) and I met when he was a senior and I was a sophomore in college (Fall 1974).  One Sunday a group of my friends had been challenged to an impromptu football game by another group on campus, and I went along to watch. I was recruited to be one of the holders of the down-markers (two pointed brooms with string tied between).  Chico flirted with me all day, but saw me leaving with my "gang" and assumed I was dating one of them (I wasn't). The next day I was in my usual spot/routine in The Student Center, drinking coffee/reading a book/smoking cigarettes (gave up that bad habit when I found out I was pregnant with our daughter Sarah, over 38 years ago).  He came up, introduced himself to me and asked permission to sit down.

I was impressed by his good manners, among other things, and we were "an item" for the remainder of the year.  He graduated with a degree in Latin American Studies and got a job in Ft. Campbell, Kentucky with the Red Cross, counseling servicemen. I stayed to finish my degree and we carried on a long-distance relationship for the remaining two years, writing, calling and visiting when we could.  The April of my senior year, during one of his visits, he asked me to marry him… and we rolled out of bed to call our parents to share the good news.  I graduated in June and we were married the following September.

An aside: During my last two years of school, I worked at a clothing boutique not far from the college.  I would walk there directly after classes, putting in about 30 hours a week and getting a 30% discount.  Chico and I had only been dating a few months when a beautiful dress came into the store.  I knew then I had to have it, whether to be married or buried (whichever came first) in such elegance, and I put it on layaway immediately. It was an off-white muslin with long, crocheted-lace sleeves and an empire bodice (very Guinevere-ish).  The big joke in my family is that, with my discount, I paid $28. When my wedding day was finally announced, my mom tried hard to talk me into something more traditional but I would not be swayed.  I still think it was the perfect dress… 💖

We stayed in our small college town for the next 8 years, moving temporarily to Atlanta en route to Puerto Rico for a company transfer (where we put in 4 1/2 years).  Back to Atlanta for almost three years and then to South Florida, where we've resided for the last 28. 

During the first twenty-five years of our marriage, Chico traveled quite a bit (twice a month, a week or more at a time). I've always been a strong and spirited soul and when the children were younger, we talked about the time he was away, not as better or worse but just different.  I belonged to AAA (although AA seemed more appropriate some days... 😉), I learned to fix small household items, I became responsible for my own entertainment.  When it had to be done, I did it. The worst were his two-week trips, when I didn't want to relax and appreciate having him home the weekend in-between, because it just meant giving him up again.  I learned various coping mechanisms, but I missed him.

Career moves found Chico home more, and the rest of us having to readjust, awkwardly at first, but happily.  He and I have always had separate interests (my music, his soccer), meeting in the middle more often than not for conversation, intimacy and intensity. 

My husband is of Brazilian descent and I am of Italian/Native American heritage... so emotions run high most of the time.  We pendulum between pondering what to name our wished-for houseboat when we retire... to me threatening to run away with the Renaissance Festival each February. 

My husband makes me crazy... and he makes me feel adored.  He is frustrating... and he is flattering. He is honest, even when I don't want to hear it... and I know I can trust his words and his actions (how many people in our lives can we say that about?!?).  He is intuitive, which is sometimes annoying but mostly a blessing. 

I wholeheartedly cherish our ongoing flare-ups, passions, commitment, disconnects, conversations, silences. It has never been easy; it has always been worthwhile.  As Brian Joseph sings in Cal’s Chevy:  “it ain’t easy… but it’s ours.”

I vowed that *happy* and *marriage* didn't have to be mutually exclusive.  My parents divorced after 29 years so I learned early on that one is never safe, and I try not to take it for granted.

Chico and I have made a conscious decision to stay together in this hectic and unsettling world (especially now during the pandemic). I crave and cherish my independence, but I don't worry any more that I'll have to "give in" (reminds me of a Dar Williams' song, In Love But Not at Peace: "I still need the beauty of words sung and spoken and I live with the fear that my spirit will be broken").  We seem to have forged a wonderful agreement where we both manage to get our own way a good bit of the time, but we haven't forgotten the art of the happy medium.

When we got married in 1976, a popular reading to include in weddings was “On Marriage” by Kahlil Gibran.  I loved it at the time, but even more so now.  The concept was, and remains, groundbreaking.  Remember these lines?

“You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore. 
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God
But let there be spaces in your togetherness
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.”

I've spent the last few weeks re-evaluating what's kept us going these 4+ decades.  We have had just as many troubles as everyone else, but the risk is the reward, and the leap of faith is the longevity... that, to quote Jackson Browne, we just keep getting up and doing it again... amen...

I have always hated the term soul mate which, in my mind, used to conjure up images of Hallmark movies with couples joined-at-the-hip in that "you-complete-me" kinda way. Ugh. A few years ago, a dear friend (who is also a therapist) offered up her definition of soulmate:  someone who challenges you to be the best person you can be. Chico does that for me and, I'd like to think, I for him. We have "a head and a heart marriage" (a phrase I heard on a TV show recently). It suits us... ♥

When it comes to troubleshooting, I am in constant awe of Chico’s ability to stay calm, to let go and to move forward, in all aspects of his life.  His oft-repeated phrase is "let's not worry about how something got to be a problem; let's just figure out how to fix it". Wow.  With my tendency to finger-point, internalize and dramatize, he sets a wonderful example.

Chico loves me unconditionally, a status I am always trying to achieve but come up short.  I love him no less, but my family history includes strings attached, a very difficult pattern to break.

He is the calm to my storm, the ground to my clouds, the 33 1/3 to my 45, the waltz to my polka, the reason to my emotion, the carousel to my rollercoaster, the string to my kite, the balance to my spinning.  He supports but never suffocates, respects but never expects.

In an anniversary card one year, Chico thanked me for my enduring love and patience with his failings.  I can say the same.

Ups and downs, ins and outs, betters and worses go with the territory.  We've lived to tell about it ("fairy tales and diaper pails" indeed, as Amy Rigby sings).  My marriage has endured for many reasons (one of which is just good old-fashioned luck).  Cheers to the two of us for our perseverance, patience and passion with each other.  Tomorrow is another day!

SONG:  Harvest Moon / You and Me (both by Neil Young) 

BOOK(S):  When Captain America Does NOT Save My Day – My Messy Beautiful by Cindy Brandt (actually not a book, but an essay)

Unwind by Glennon Doyle (excerpt from Carry On, Warrior, her first book)

POEM(S):  Ode to Time by Pablo Neruda (translation by Paul Scott Derrick)

Inside of you, your growing
age,
inside of me, my passing
age.
Time is decided,
its bell doesn’t ring,
it slowly flows, advancing
inside of us both.
It’s there,
like a quiet pool
in your eyes
and, beneath their
burnished chestnut,
a splinter, the trace
of a tiny stream,
a dry little star
ascending to your lips.
Time may draw
its threads
through your hair,
but in my heart
you will always bring the fragrance
of the honeysuckle vine,
as vivid as living fire.
How lovely it is
to grow old living
all that we’ve lived.
Every day
was transparent stone,
every night
for us, was a deeply shadowed rose.
And this line on your face, or mine,
are flowers or stone,
the fossil of a lightning-flash.
My eyes have been spent on your loveliness,
but then, you are my eyes.
Maybe I’ve tired your duplicate breasts
with my kisses,
but the world has seen your secret splendor
in my joy.
What do we care, my love,
if time,
who raised like double flames
or parallel stalks
my body and your sweetness,
should guard them tomorrow
or strip them away
and with its invisible fingers
erase this identity that keeps us apart
giving us the victory
of a single final soul beneath the sod.

Upon Request by Anton Korteweg

That I love you, I want to finally
have that written down, now that
you ask. Because I love you and
not just sometimes, given
the four thousand days and nights.
That it seems as if you hardly
have grown older, that
you sometimes gaze into the distance
as if love struck, that
your hands are still beautiful, further
than this I'd rather not go.
That I sometimes look for your cheek
and not your lips.

QUOTE(S):  “That was the strangest thing about weddings, from Amos’s point of view, that they pretended to be sacred occasions but in fact had no meaning. Because a marriage isn’t a marriage until it’s over, he thought, until the couple looked back, years later, at the moment they wed and said, “Oh, that’s what really happened that day.” ~ Haven Kimmel, from the novel The Solace of Leaving Early

"Wasn’t marriage, like life, unstimulating and unprofitable and somewhat empty when *too* well-ordered and protected and guarded. Wasn’t it finer, more splendid, more nourishing when it was, like life itself, a mixture of the sordid and the magnificent; of mud and stars; of earth and flowers; of love and hate and laughter and tears and ugliness and beauty and hurt." ~ Edna Ferber

“Tell the story of your marriage,” my young friend Niki says to me. “Write down how it is you have a happy marriage.” But the story of my marriage, which is the great joy and astonishment of my life, is too much like a fairy tale, the German kind, unsweetened by Disney.” ~ Ann Patchett, from her book of essays, The Story of a Happy Marriage

“People think a soulmate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.  A true soulmate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake.  A soulmate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life.” ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

Red Dress (Susan Werner)

I seem to have gone MIA for the last 11 days.  Everything's fine (better than fine, actually); no mullygrubs here.  I just lost my concentration!  Recap, then moving forward... 😍

I placed a Publix Liquors Instacart order last week, mainly for a bottle of Kahlua that my husband splashes into his coffee every morning.  Hey, he's retired.  Anyway, the minimum for free shipping is $35.00 and I needed another $10.00 to qualify.  Looked around on the website and ended up choosing a bottle of Long Island Iced Tea, which was so random until I remembered that my mother's birthday was September 9 (a few days away) and that was the drink of tradition whenever she and her Besties went out to dinner.  I told Sarah about it, and she and I will get together soon, whereupon we will toast Connie/Mom/Mimi.  Hard to believe that this past July 19, it will be 11 years since her passing, and this would have been her 90th birthday.

Watched The Dedicated Concert, a livestreaming Dar Williams event last Thursday.  It was so beautiful, with all the sweet dedications from her fans to friends, partners, etc., some delivered live, some via Dar, and others written in the comments and/or scrolled across the bottom of the screen.  Lovely!

Finished cleaning out Reba's apartment, and showed up Friday (with my coffee, peanut butter and banana sandwich, and phone)  to wait for the donations pick-up, with a 9:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. window of opportunity.  Fortunately they showed up at 11:00 a.m., so now everything is out of there, the cleaning lady can come, and R can then turn it back over to the leasing office.

This past Saturday was my last visit to the chiropractor, the end of my one-month/12-week/three-times-a-week treatment plan.  My sciatica, as well as my neck, has improved substantially since I first started going mid-August (according to x-rays and thermal scans at the beginning and again at the end), and the doctor recommended I continue, and they offered me a follow-up once-a-week, three-month plan, but it's hard to justify the money.  I brought them a basket of wonderful vegan goodies with an effusive thank you card (under different circumstances, there would have been hugs)... and from here on out, I have committed to keep up with everything on my own:  stretches, massage, cervical fulcrum, cordless massager (no, not a Rabbit... ;-), walking, Arnica/CBD cream or salve, better posture, hold phone up at eye level rather than looking down, etc.  I can do this!

Lots of rain this past weekend (a precursor to what is now Hurricane Sally), and met up with Sarah and Colin at TreeTops Park for a puddle-jumping adventure (all of us wearing our galoshes), and Colin took it to mean total immersion.  He was so waterlogged that Sarah had to strip him down completely to put him in the carseat... :-)

Tonight at 6:00 p.m. I am virtually attending a Grassroots Fundraiser with Kamala Harris, Hillary Clinton, Amy Poehler and Maya Rudolph.  Go here for more info; registration is required.

P.S.  You really must try the vegan oatmeal-raisin cookies from Whole Foods, and here's the recipe!  So. Much. Cinnamon... 💓

NR:  Death in Her Hands by Ottessa Moshfegh (I am about a third of the way through, and the proverbial jury's still out).

SONG:  Red Dress by Susan Werner

BOOK:  Danger in a Red Dress by Christina Dodd

POEM:  The Cure by Ginger Andrews

Lying around all day
with some strange new deep blue
weekend funk, I'm not really asleep
when my sister calls
to say she's just hung up
from talking with Aunt Bertha
who is 89 and ill but managing
to take care of Uncle Frank
who is completely bed ridden.
Aunt Bert says
it's snowing there in Arkansas,
on Catfish Lane, and she hasn't been
able to walk out to their mailbox.
She's been suffering
from a bad case of the mulleygrubs.
The cure for the mulleygrubs,
she tells my sister,
is to get up and bake a cake.
If that doesn't do it, put on a red dress.

QUOTE:  "Gossip is just news running ahead of itself in a red satin dress." ~ Liz Smith

We Americans (The Avett Brothers)

And the crazy continues! (what else is new, right?!?).  From today's New York Times Daily Briefing (you really should subscribe if you don't already!):

President Trump breaks so many of the normal rules of politics that it can sometimes be hard to know when his tweets and comments are truly newsworthy. Even by his standards, though, the past several days have stood out. Consider:

Trump said on Monday that a plane “almost completely loaded with thugs” wearing “dark uniforms” had been headed to the Republican National Convention to do “big damage.” The claim is similar to a baseless conspiracy theory that spread online over the summer, well before the convention.

He has declined to condemn the killings of two protesters in Kenosha, Wis. He instead defended the 17-year-old charged in the shootings — a Trump supporter named Kyle Rittenhouse — saying he was acting in self-defense. Trump also promoted a Twitter post that called Rittenhouse “a good example of why I decided to vote for Trump.”

He defended violence committed by his supporters in Portland, Ore., who fired paintballs and pepper spray at Black Lives Matter protesters.

He compared the police shooting of Jacob Blake in Kenosha to missing “a three-foot putt” in a golf tournament.

He claimed that “people that you’ve never heard of” and “people that are in the dark shadows” are controlling Joe Biden.

He claimed Democrats were trying to “destroy” suburbs with “low-income housing, and with that comes a lot of other problems, including crime.” He added that Cory Booker — one of the highest-profile Black Democrats — would be “in charge of it.”

He predicted that the stock market would crash if Biden won.

He said that Biden, at the Democratic National Convention, “didn’t even discuss law enforcement, the police. Those words weren’t mentioned.” In fact, Biden held a discussion at the convention on policing, with a police chief.

Trump claimed that he “took control of” the situation in Kenosha by sending in the National Guard. In fact, Wisconsin’s governor, not the president, sent the National Guard.

He retweeted messages asserting that the pandemic’s death toll was overstated. Evidence indicates the opposite is true.

He said that protests against police brutality were actually a secret “coup attempt” by anarchists “trying to take down the President.”

Biden has taken a very different approach to the unrest in Kenosha, Portland and elsewhere. He has told no apparent untruths, and he has criticized violence from both the political left and right — even though many liberals, whose votes Biden needs, are uncomfortable with any criticism of people on their side of the debate.

G.O.P. reaction. The Times tried to reach about a dozen leading congressional Republicans and ask for their reaction to Trump’s claims. “None cared to comment,” Mark Leibovich writes. Senator Mitt Romney offered one of the few public responses, calling the president’s comments “simply jaw-dropping.”


VOTE!  VOTE!  VOTE!  VOTE!

P.S.  I just ordered this mask (above) for myself as well as my husband and three adult children.  Oh, did I say VOTE?... 😏


SONG:  We Americans by The Avett Brothers

BOOK:  A Very Stable Genius: Donald J. Trump's Testing of America by Philip Rucker, Carol Leonnig

POEM:  Third Time's a Charm by David Kirby

Don’t you wish the president would just shut up?
I mean, why comment on everything all the time.
Let’s hear it for silence. Yes, the helicopter of the world
is always circling overhead, but only rarely and usually
never does it suddenly fix its spotlight on the genius
that is you. What does he expect, a chattering dolphin
to rear up in front of his every tweet/answer to
a journalist/remark to a staffer who’s not supposed
to leak it but does and go chee-chee-chee-chee?
Mozart ends The Magic Flute with the words
“Triumphant strength has rewarded beauty and wisdom
with an eternal crown,” but he was Mozart.
Even ordinary jibber-jabber can go too far, as when
you give someone a present and they say
“You didn’t have to do that” and you think, “I know
I didn’t have to, but I wanted to, though I’m having
second thoughts now,” or someone brings a casserole
to your potluck, and you say, “Oh, how lovely,”
and they say, “Yeah, but it’s way salty, plus I left it
in the oven too long,” and you think, “My, doesn’t
that sound delicious!” Actually it was Mozart’s
librettist Emanuel Schikaneder who wrote the end
of The Magic Flute as well as the rest of it, but still.
Doesn’t the president have speech writers?
The divorce firm of Thyden Gross and Callahan
works out of Friendship Village, Maryland (I’m not
making this up) and recently represented a wealthy
Islamic gentleman who invoked the ancient law
of talaq by saying “I divorce thee” three times
to his wife and bestowing the sum of $2,500
on her while retaining the bulk of their two million
dollar estate for himself. The Maryland Court
of Appeals said no, however, stipulating that
the talaq did not afford the same protections
of due process, prenuptial agreements,
and division of property that Maryland law did,
a ruling in which the court is joined by
those Islamic scholars who say it isn’t right to
invoke the talaq in one sitting and that there
should at least be a period of time between
the “three strikes” as well as other learned
devotees of that venerable faith who say
the talaq is reprehensible and shouldn’t be
used at all. Every time the president goes
yada-yada-yada, I wish Mitch McConnell would say,
“I impeach thee, I impeach thee, I impeach thee”
and he’d disappear like the witch in The Wizard
of Oz, and here I’m just referring to the president’s
banal and mendacious utterances and not
the ugly ones like grabbing somebody by their
you-know-what. In this respect he could at least
take lessons in subtlety from 18th century German
writer Georg Christoph Lichtenberg, who said
of the prostitutes he encountered in London
that “they attach themselves to you like limpets”
and “they seize hold of you after a fashion
of which I can give you the best notion by the fact
that I say nothing about it.” Now you’re talking.

[David Kirby, 10/13/19 : “I have misgivings about the current move to impeach. That process is usually used to convince the people that the president is a bad person, but we already know that. Too, I bet this president would be delighted; it’ll just give him another chance to feel sorry for himself. No, I’d prefer that he just go away. That’s called magical thinking, as is this poem’s call for Mitch McConnell to do the deed.”]

QUOTE:  "When you blame others, you give up your power to change." ~ Robert Anthony