A year

Since I last wrote on Mardi Gras, we passed the mark of a year at home, Jack has still not returned to any in-person school, Ol turned 12, my parents are fully vaccinated, my in-laws have each had one shot, spring is emerging in fits and starts, I took on a volunteer leadership position at a wonderful political organization that I admire, and the cats still disdain each other. Or rather, Nutmeg is still irritated about Ruthie coming to live with us. WHY do cats let their tongues hang when they’re resting?!

We have explored more of Virginia and West Virginia and been simultaneously awed by their beauty and much of the friendliness we’ve encountered and appalled by their racism, mad conservatism, and overt Confederate loyalty (more pronounced in the parts of western VA we spent time in).

I have gut-laughed so hard —see this link for a recent delight—”punches and scratches to the face…” I have cried, too.

I have learned fascinating things, from tidbits like this evolution of the UK flag:

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to information about long-haul Covid.

I maintain that Freddie Mercury and Roger Federer are two of the greatest artists to ever walk this Earth. Witness remains an excellent film. Weekend at Bernie’s is an appalling blot on film history; my bright memories were justly extinguished one evening when I convinced Tom to subscribe to Cinemax and the boys to settle in for a treat. Any new or old faves for you?

I rarely enjoy cooking anymore and have lost interest in most meals. It all seems to taste the same; several of my friends feel this, too. I hope this disappears when Covid recedes into memory. Have you experienced this?

Have you watched The Last Kingdom or The Queen’s Gambit? I love the word gambit, and both series are utterly engaging. Plus, Alexander Dreymon? Meow!

47 weeks

So, we’ve been at home for just over 47 weeks. It’s getting extremely long in the tooth. Quarantine humor and family projects and such have largely given way to resignation, limping through each day, and profound disdain for cooking another meal. I am telling y’all the truth- if schools are going to stay closed, they need to start sending our kids lunch. Well, the private schools do. I have one child in private and one in public, and I really think that since we have gotten zero tuition reduction, they could send Oliver lunch once a week. Good god, I am sick of the kitchen. Starting to avoid it all costs.

Meanwhile, I’m becoming a lunatic cross stitcher and embroiderer. I have mild feelings of panic about this when considered in concert with my cat, Zillow, and pajama-like clothing obsessions. Speaking of Zillow, did you all catch this SNL skit? As Joy Reid tweeted, “this hit a bit too close to home.” Lol.

Do y’all agree that the Bernie mitten memes provided such true and delightful spots of joy when they were churning through the internet?

Thank gawd for hilarious, clever people.

Well, that’s all I have for you. I’m peevish, restless, and so sick of parenting. I bet you are, too. But I’m thankful for all I do have, including supportive parents who have each gotten one dose of the Covid vaccine. Be kind, please get vaccinated when you can, and send me funny stuff when you come across treasures like the above.

6 October 2020: 27 days, Mom and Dad, the gray area

It feels as if we’ve all lived another year since RBG died, which was, in fact, just a few weeks ago. Since then, we have learned, conclusively, that the “president avoided paying federal income tax in 10 of the 15 years preceding his election. In 2016, he paid $750 in federal income tax, less than one night’s stay in a suite at the Trump International Hotel in Washington, D.C.” And yet he also received a $72+ million refund.

We watched, not ten days after RBG died, as the GOP, too many of whom are classless power-grabbers, printed “Notorious ACB” shirts as if Handmaiden Amy Coney Barrett could possibly, in any way, deserve that moniker.

We watched as her nomination party turned into the grotesque superspreader spectacle it was in that person after person has since tested positive for COVID-19, including trump, melania, kellyanne, kayleigh, stephen, thom, mike, and ron, paragons of honesty and class every one.

We watched as the US reached the 215,000+ dead mark but trump flew Marine One back to the White House after just three days at Walter Reed Hospital on our dime, and in care of an osteopath who sounds like a complete and scripted fool, to demean every death and every struggle by saying that Covid is just not that bad. Man up, and you’ll be fine. The dismissive cruelty and privilege in that is stunning.

Meanwhile, I returned south to help my parents with more of their move, to celebrate my dad’s 70th, to try and keep some ship steady somewhere. Masked up, staying distant, hugging few, and feeling so far away from normal, I realized it has been more than 30 weeks since life changed so dramatically yet again. For the most part, the rest of the world is moving on, but here? Americans are all at home, those of us following the rules at the shitty mercy of idiot anti-maskers, disinformation, and, above all, the deranged man-child who will kill us all in his single-minded, selfish quest for power.

Our children are lonely, their educations at best a fraction of what they should be. We are all stressed to the nines in the best of circumstances; those facing illness, eviction, joblessness, hunger, and those in need and deserving of all form of insurance and support are in crisis mode. And, winter is coming.

The years since the 2016 election have felt like an eternity. A daily slog of exhaustion and stress and ugliness. It is taking a toll. The gray areas of nuance seem to be slipping into the far reaches of sparring corners. I see it on our neighborhood listserv as people yell back and forth in fairly anonymous screeds about leaf blowers, safety cameras, and the like. I see it in southerners who boast about their communal spirit and who do go above and beyond to help those who look like they do but then rage in blanket, dismissive disgust about all who don’t. I see it in parent communities all.the.time. In those who feel competitive and in those who don’t, in those who grasp for a majority of the pie while stepping on others as they reach greedily forward. I feel it in myself and my anger and lack of reserve.

I know that none of this is new, but shit. Can’t we just take responsibility, appreciate fact, be kind, and go forth? Can we stop lying, cheating, and throwing others under the bus?

Tom and I just rewatched the Chernobyl series. If you haven’t yet seen it, I can not recommend it more. Tough? Yes. Important? Crucial.

“Every lie we tell incurs a debt to the truth. Sooner or later, that debt is paid…What is the cost of lies? It’s not that we will mistake them for the truth. The real danger is that, if we hear enough lies, then we no longer recognize the truth at all. What can we do then? What else is left but to abandon even the hope of truth and content ourselves instead with stories? In these stories, it doesn’t matter who the heroes are. All we want to know is who is to blame.”

27 days. Vote!