Balance and Nuance

 I flipped a stranger off in traffic this morning. I haven't done that since right after my dad died. Did this stranger deserve it? Probably not, and I pretty immediately felt shameful about it. Until he then proceeded to run a red light so blatantly that I questioned my sanity and ability to tell red from green. 

I think that pretty cleanly sums up where my mind is at lately. I am mad and rageful and feeling all of my feral, witchy-woman vibes. I want to rally the sisterhood and storm to Idaho. I want to scream in the face of anyone who voted for this asshole and is now shocked that things aren't getting better. I want to claw out the eyes of anyone who wants to "protect women" by banning trans athletes for the sheer ludicrousy of the logic (for instance, does anyone think about who the trans men, who have likely been taking testosterone for YEARS, are now going to be competing against?! Let's "protect women" by putting actual men in the division. So fucking dumb)

And then at the same time I'm feeling called to the idea of joy being the resistance and enthusiasm being the greatest form of social rebellion. I want to love everyone to satiety and create art and music and beauty to counteract all the outright awfulness that seems to be every-fucking-where. 

So I flip off the man in the car behind me who is gesticulating wildly for me to crawl up on the sidewalk so he can turn ten seconds sooner, but then I'm feeling bad about adding to the negativity, and then he goes and proves that it was warranted. I am Stevie Nicks wearing brass knuckles and carrying a basket of muffins. 

I don't know what to do. I shout into the void about all the things because I want to make sure we don't inure ourselves to all the fuckery. I have 47 art projects going on. I'm making food and loving kids and trying to keep my head up and my nails sharp and I'm actively trying not to "play nice" or "fly low" when people say they didn't understand the half-time show or talk about some asshole's "autistic enthusiasm" 

I don't know why I'm writing this. I guess because it feels like a lot and it is a lot and I wanted to put it out there plainly, but also because if you're feeling this way too, I wanted you to know that we're all here and we're all doing this and if someone tries to drag you out of a town hall, I promise to sit my ass in the aisle and be as heavy as possible.  

Things that don’t suck

 Last week was hard. Atticus’ absence is felt more keenly than I expected (except by Scout which I guess is on brand.) The anniversary of my dad dying hit harder than I thought it would, until a sweet friend reminded me that seven years is a cycle. And then on top of all that, just general malaise about the state of the world. This week I spent all week in jury selection for a murder trial. I wasn’t picked, but I did get my first cold in forever as a parting gift. 

So since I’m convalescing on the couch, I figured I’d do a photo dump of things that don’t suck

I loved this outfit so much. I bought this jacket at a thrift store during grad school, outgrew it, gave it to my mom, and then brought it home after she died. It matches this dress perfectly and I love it. 

The girls wanted appliqué sweatshirts so I spent an evening crafting and they love them so much

Messy bedroom but this shirt makes me at least 10% stronger 

These cats. I’m obsessed with them

Averson got two leaped geckos and they make them so happy. Look at that smile

Goodbye, Old Man

The era of the Hellbeasts had to end eventually. Atticus has been getting frailer and slower, but never quite reached the "it's time" stage. Until he did. Saying good-bye today feels bittersweet, especially because, as is usually the case, he seemed pretty perky this morning. He was a dog who wanted nothing more than to be with his people at all times, a quality that vacillated between endearing and infuriating for most of his life. But we had good memories and Averson doesn't remember a time when he wasn't a part of our family. I will miss his sweet eyes and quiet presence. I will not miss his whining and his horrific gas. And I'm glad that he won't be in pain anymore. 

Bye Weirdo. It's been a good run.