After becoming mesmerized by the first clear sight of my sparkly silver roots under a skylight in my friend’s beach house, I fell down the internet rabbit hole that is silver hair obsession.
I was holding my baby son and perusing the toys with him at Costco a few years ago when an old fart wandered by and yapped at us, “Ooooh! Looks like Gramma might get yooo sumpin’ special!” I turned to look over my shoulder before I realized he meant me, and just barely caught and stopped the “FUCK YOU!” as I pursed my lips into a tight smile instead. I huffed off and complained to my partner about it who laughed and laughed, blamed it on the baby robbing us of sleep, and then also said, “Well, you do have gray roots right now, too.” I internally promised myself and that baby that I would keep covering my gray until I was at least 50. …
Our first National Youth Poet Laureate captured our hearts and gave us hope for our country’s future with the oration of her poem, “The Hill We Climb” at Joe Biden’s and Kamala Harris’ inauguration this morning.
“Where can we find light in this never-ending shade?” she asked.
Tears continued to well in my eyes as I watched my son take in the vision of Amanda Gorman reading her incredible poem this morning. I have never felt so great about keeping him from attending school. This was a better class for him than I imagined. For him to behold such beauty, the snippets of poetry we heard throughout the morning included not only her beautiful word strings but also, “Please stand if you are able.” And, “America’s story has always been written by those who can see what can be — unburdened by what has been.” -Vice President Kamala Harris. “This is democracy’s day. A day of history and hope of renewal and resolve through a crucible for the ages.” …
I committed to posting every single day of January 2021, and I was afraid it would come to this!
My cup is nearly empty. I did not have time to write anything purposefully today. But, this month, that is not what my posts are about. This month my posts are about gratitude. This morning we watched two massive cranes arrive, and two men worked all day until the giant fallen tree was mostly gone! …
This isn’t something I learned in 2020, but it’s something I am so grateful to have seen a global reckoning around. I’m glad for the prompting to have the overdue talk with my young son. We still talk about it, and there are days when I just have to repeat the mantra, “Don’t be right, get it right.”
Our entire broken, deeply fucked-up system became unbearable for the majority, finally. All of this is an evil construct to support those who would hoard money and power and oppress the rest of us. I am sad that such an alarmingly high number of people believe in the putrid myths that further divide us and lead them to cast votes for Trump and his ilk globally. They are pawns whose lives mean nothing to these cynically evil people. …
Dehumanizing is the problem, and shame ain't gonna work.
I dehumanized Trump by calling him a “dumpster pumpkin.” I’m not sorry yet, but I’m working on it. The people that I see as blindly following him are almost animals to me as well, and that has to stop. My disbelief-turned grief-turned fear-turned rage blocks my compassion.
And yet, my need to see accountability is all our need for accountability. There can be no unity without it. Truly, if there is no justice, then there will be no peace. Two pieces of widely available, recently posted media made me stop and think. …
High as fuck. Running under the train trestles along Commencement Bay. The night is dark, and it belongs to us. Everyone else is asleep or in their own bubble that is outside of our high. We are invincible. It’s cold outside, but that doesn’t matter because we’re moving, and we’re smoking, and we’re thrilled.
And, we’re always aware that we maybe look really fucking great, and we are sexy people, and that helps make us be invincible because sexy people can live forever, most likely. I’m wearing my “Fuck Me! I’m From Tacoma” shirt, no bra. …
The sky is pretending that nothing happened last night. It’s clear and blue and bright, with nary a breeze.
The slightest, crisp dew mist twinkles where the sun meets any surface.
Warm relief washed over me after midnight last night. No one was hurt.
I’d been living on the qui vive.
Those are roots, not branches, peering over the back fence.
I first began to worry the big tree would fall and crush my family to death in our sleep when we learned that its twin had become sick and almost killed our elderly neighbor when it plunged itself through her roof and into the bedroom next to her. …
Did you hear that January is National Soup Month?
January 2021 is a month in which many of us are asking each other, “Are you OK?” and starting to expect to hear the truth. “How are you?” is a greeting that is starting to feel more and more absurd, and the only reply I have for people who ask me that question, but still want brevity in our chats, is to shrug and say in a question mark way, “I’m COVID good?” 🤷♀ As silly as routine greetings feel, “National this or that” months also feel a little ridiculous. …
Don’t ever forget how magical it actually is that there is a system that allows you to send someone a note and items in the mail.
Of all of the things to be grateful for over my life, and especially the past year, the USPS, as well as the postal systems and interlibrary loan networks of the world, are in the top 5, easily. I’ve had a lifelong fascination with the mail, and it has continued to pour its magic into my life.
We saw the USPS come under fire on a whole new level in 2020 as the pandemic raged on and as those who would do evil sought to tamp down its magic for the purpose of voter suppression and disenfranchisement. One of the biggest insults to me was that #45 put someone in charge that seemed to not only not care about the USPS, but held actual disdain for a service that is a lifeline for medications, veteran’s benefits, and correspondence. And, with all of the atrocities piling up, it was hard to get the advocacy it deserves. The people who keep the USPS going are heroes. …
