In less than four hours I am going to be among the first (masked) shoppers in line to pick up a wheat-colored settee from TJ Maxx Home Goods. That’s my only outing of the day. That time of day, there are five folks in the entire store, plus employees. That’s social distancing.
I’m happy that the person who put it on hold ten minutes before I called TJs to tell them I was on my way in to purchase it last Wednesday never showed up. Two minutes prior to closing, I rang in, the folks told me that the settee still sat by the door. Put my name on it, I said. …
One of the fastest ways you and I can make asses out of ourselves, so goes the old joke, is when you and I ass-ume things about other folks. Truth is, we have no clue about their lives, their battles, their issues or what comes naturally. The most basic of psychology training teaches that you and I project our traits- good, bad, ugly- onto others. That would explain, at least in part, why folks say what they say to us.
For example, in response to a Medium.com article I wrote about undermining ideas about aging vibrantly, fellow writer Arthur Holmes-Brown shared a classic conversation which underscores my…
Fair warning to Dear Reader. This is a lengthy read about getting over sugar and what that can do for you. It’s about a better life, not just a long one. If you want a better long life, bear with me.
That’s what I told myself for a very long time. I so love my sweets, my icing, my donuts, my cream-filled Krispy Kremes. I so love my sticky-sweet caramel popcorn, my Snickers bars at Halloween, my beloved chocolate almonds.
The icing-laden corner of the wedding cake, Southern pecan pie, hot with vanilla bean ice cream melting onto the plate.
You get it. …
“Who are you? I’m your neighbor! Call me if you need anything.”
“I’m the handyman. Few doors down. You guys need anything done, call me.”
Sonja walks the new neighborhood with Bandit, the Golden. A large, expensive new SUV passes her slowly. White family. The occupants wave.
Sonja waves back. Inside, her jaw drops.
The next car, another expensive vehicle, passes. Another White family. They wave at the pretty Black woman with the Golden.
Sonja waves back.
A wave of unreality.
Sonja’s Black. She turns sixty next June. …
Some years ago I interviewed then-Washington State Attorney General Christine Gregoire for a cover story for Spokane Woman magazine. Gregoire had been a leader of a team of AGs who’d taken on, and won, the battle against Big Tobacco to take down its advertising. I asked her if anyone would ever have the guts to do the same with alcohol. She said no, unequivocally. Not only had our experience with Prohibition shown that this was impossible, there’s just too much money in moonshine. The worldwide value of the booze business is expected top 1.75 trillion by 2024.
There is no way those who have a vested interest in that kind of coin are going to cooperate simply because it’s a health risk. Not on your life, even if there is plenty of evidence that alcohol use, even moderate, can cost you your life and those of people you love. …
Corporal Hicks, his handsome face shiny with sweat, faces off with his fellow Marines and tells them to Stay frosty.
Just before most of them get wiped. But they do stay frosty, right up until they’re grabbed by the Alien, and not before wiping out a good number of the monsters.
I love that movie. Perhaps what I love best about it is Sigourney Weaver, whose character has lost everything including her rank, her daughter and a great deal more, and who has to come face to face with these creatures for the rest of her days, including after being cloned. …
Starbucks, until just yesterday, continued to be our guilty, calorie-laden trip to soothe our quarantine caffeine jitters. Now they are, for the short term at least, drive-through only.
For some of us that’s horrible news. While I may not necessarily indulge in some of the company’s worst holiday sugar bombs…
…I miss the shop. Really. Bitter coffee and all. I love Starbucks. It feels good in there. Smells like heaven.
Like the Salted Caramel Mocha, with 59 grams of sugar. …
Dear Reader: if you know my work, you know I like to take doglegs. Fair warning, one is ahead. Keep the rudder at the ready.
There are damned few things that feel better (okay, other than orgasms and skydiving and horse riding) than finding out you’re right.
Not only that but that the veracity of your hunch turned out to be valid through research by scientists.
Which, of course, for those who choose to continue to disagree with me on this particular piece, will utterly disavow, because, well, we only quote science which backs us up. Right?
Such as scientific toadies hired by the Grand Orange Toadie himself, soon to be ousted, who will tell the American people that Covid is a hoax, masks don’t work and if you wear one you’re a pussy. At which point the Grand Master Orange Toadie will grab yours, but then, he did that to the Statue of Liberty already. Half this country has such crotch stains. …
Yesterday I read a thoughtful piece about flying solo from one of my favorite Medium writers, Kristi Keller:
I don’t pretend to speak for Kristi or her mother in this piece, just what her article and story brought up for this writer. And, where those questions took me, this cool sunny Thanksgiving morning in Oregon.
Kristi and I are both grounded from our international travels for now. Her points really hit home for me, as for a lot of folks, who are battling it out right now under Covid. But that’s hardly the only issue. As a 67–year-old single woman, for me, the points she makes about the cost of single living really exemplify how much our society punishes us- most especially women, aging women, and far worse, aging women of color- for daring to do it alone. …
This is in response to a challenge from Thewriteyard.
Damp leaves carpet the forest floor
The stag inspects my bird feeder for seed
Moss makes his passing ghostlike.
I can barely see his form moving through my garden.
At 3 am, only the starlight shimmers
My first thought, I mouth,
Thank you for another day.
I don’t know who, or what, I thank.
Something animates me.
The birds who scour my pebbled patio for seeds the turkey leaves behind.
They hop on the Japanese maple leaves which, like yesterday’s soft raindrops,
surrounded my house like a curtain of color and dew.
A restless day ahead, full of wonders, perhaps?
Thank you for letting me see it.