a gorgeous tuft of moss

 A recent visit to the coast and the moss is tufty and luscious. Little trees upon trees. Heaven.

ha ha facebook

So I've somehow convinced Facebook that April 1st is my birthday. I've pretty much ditched Fb other than messaging with family, but I did see this the other day. Ha ha.

a 2 rat day

I saw two rats on Saturday. 

It was a dreamy kind of day; I had an appointment that I was dreading, and was also deep in thought about a project. Rat One was dead. It lay belly up on a sidewalk among a bunch of strewn trash, little rat hands and feet frozen in an upward rictus, as though it was being mugged. 

Sorry, little rat, I said into my mask, as I hurried by, side-stepping into the street.

A half an hour later I sat in the back of a mostly empty Metro bus, idling at a light. I looked out and to my right and saw Rat Two scurry across a sidewalk and into the manicured bushes beside an apartment building. Rat Two appeared to be browsing for food, until two women approached, and it scurried back across to the safety of the ivy ground cover next to the street. Then the light changed and the bus accelerated down 15th.

Just before boarding that bus, I watched a persistent crow hopping around in the fresh cedar mulch around newly-planted trees, diligently sorting out smaller, thinner strands. For building a nest, I wondered? A pedestrian approached and the crow swooped up to a nearby utility wire, perched for a moment, and then flew off to a neighboring tree.  

*

The rat sightings made me think of Project Runway winner Kentaro and his story about being inspired by a dead rat that he later buried. But, upon googling, it seems it was a dead cat. Not a rat. But the story and Tim Gunn's deadpan reaction stay with me.

this is love (coffee)

 

Today I received a wonderful gift of freshly roasted coffee beans from Rwanda. The owner of ETG has been raving about these beans for a couple of weeks now, and today she gave me a sample to try at home. The growers apparently have freed themselves from the constraints of Monsanto to make their coffee business organic and free trade. I love her excitement and I'm so grateful for the gift.

*

At the grocery store, the clerk paused ringing up my items to watch a pair of older whyte women who breezed in, chatting, maskless. We both watched them proceed deep into the store.

"Mask-holes," he muttered, irritated. 

They pulled on their masks a few moments later. Haha. We forgot.

"How does anyone forget now?" I said. Seriously. How?

"I'd like to forget," he said. 

We're all weary. As I bagged my items--fruit, toothpaste tabs, pasta--we chatted about vaccine availability. He and his fellow clerks are eligible now as front line workesr, but supply has been low. He said the front page of the Financial Times had an article explaining that there is now a shortage of vials.

"How did we not see that coming?!" I said, despondent.

"Take care of yourself," he said, as I left, and I wished him the same.

the sociology of cookbooks

I started a new project with a family member.

We're both interested in cookbooks. Me from the sociology aspect (well, and of course eating), her from the recipe-testing, technical aspect. We ordered a batch of six community cookbooks from Kansas in the 1970s, 1980s and one from the '90s. The community cookbooks interested us because they are created by home cooks in a particular area. 

There's so much to explore. The way the writers talk about food--baking soda is sometimes just called soda, which can be confusing when a surprise ingredient is Coca Cola or soda. Mexican food is mislabeled as Native American cuisine in one. There's the submission names: in one 1970's cookbook, the women are identified by their husband's names. So it might be Dorothy submitting, but she's identified as Mrs. Wizard Oz. This means we will never know for sure who submitted the Tomato Soup Cake recipe!

Our first project: attempt a coffee cake recipe from the same region (western Kansas) and the same decade (1970's) but different cookbooks. More to come.

more reading! and watching!

Reading and watching during pandemic times has brought me joy and relaxation. 

• Heather Cox Richardson's "How the South Won the Civil War." I thought I knew history but the way HCR can draw parallels from the origins of white settlement in the USA is blowing my mind. A breakdown of the myths we tell ourselves so as not to confront our vicious, white supremacist past.
  
• 2 historical books of writings and short stories by Black women. The Portable Nineteenth Century African American Writers includes narratives by slaves and servants. Fascinating and awful and powerful.
• I bought Amazon Prime for 3 months so I could watch "One Night in Miami" (brilliant and beautifully crafted) and "Small Axe." The latter I'll need to revisit. There is some tough subject matter and I want to watch carefully. 
• I also watched "Jasper Mall," a documentary about a dying mall in small town Alabama.
  
• As much as I dislike Rosamund Pike, "I Care a Lot" has its moments of fun. Dianne Wiest and Peter Dinklage offer up naughty turns. The plot wimps out at the end big time, and there are plot holes big enough for a T Rex to run through. Meh.
  
• "Black KkKlansman." This Spike Lee Joint offers up humor, truth and powerful storytelling.
  

we're not even at P

I read a comment this week that we're not even at the "P" of PTSD.

I felt like I hit a wall a couple of weeks ago. The thing about hitting a wall during pandemic times is IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER! You're still in a pandemic. More people are getting vaccinated including some dear friends, but mostly nothing has changed.

I saw another comment that said "I can't go to another fucking park or on another fucking walk." Yes. I've stopped taking pictures of murals and inspirational quotes. I honestly don't care anymore.

I've been thinking about what a return to life means for me. 

My work situation stresses me out and my boss has been extremely controlling and negative in conversations about how it might work better for me, and our team. I've never truly asked for what I need, and I'm wondering if I'll have the courage to do so now.

I'm writing more and I want/need/hope for that to continue.

In some ways I feel closer to my sisters. We've had dozens of Zoom chats and a lengthy FB group message with memes and links. I downloaded it this week and I'm producing it as a document. An artifact.

Friend-wise I have relationships that have grown and evolved. We've found new ways to connect, confide, share, laugh. I'd say 60 to 70% of my friends have gone silent. Some days I feel abandoned and very alone. Some days I don't talk to another live human. I'm watching too much Netflix probably but I've also read a ton of books and done a lot of thinking.

So, what's ahead? Hopefully a road trip to see good friends. Hopefully a move to a better living space that costs less. Hopefully new inroads with publishing.

Hopefully equity, safety and peace.

internet drama part 5

 Loving Tik Tok-er @Lubalin who sings and composes songs from internet drama.

spa day for the kittehs

 

yeah no yeah

Why learning idiomatic English is so hard: https://ig-braving.tumblr.com/post/642849493492121600

more reading: broken families

Have I mentioned lately how grateful I am for the Seattle Public Library's e-book lending program? Yes? Okay, then.

Here are 2 more books I recently borrowed and read:

--Brit Bennett's "The Vanishing Half," which has been hyped (and rightly so) and is hard to get, but gee whiz am I grateful I finally made it to first in line. This book was so good I didn't want it to end, yet I kept reading, racing ahead, wanting to know what happened between sisters Desiree and Stella and their lovers and their daughters. The sense of family, sisterhood, place, and time is brilliant, deep, thoughtful, and gripping. I know these characters and their motivations. It's just brilliantly written. 

--Celeste Ng's "All the Things I Never Told You." Ng tends to be a slower read for me, but this novel is worth the effort. It begins memorably with a dead daughter, and the story both digs in, and spirals out from there. It's another tale of a fractured family, the lies we tell ourselves and each other, how kids know more and feel more deeply than we care to admit.