White middle aged lady with purple hair and sunglasses
Good night to my 40s. If I had any energy left at all after this tough week, I would go to goth night.
If you see this, drop an old picture you still love.
SF, 1999? Me and my hometown besties at the Levi’s store Photo Booth.
Leftover Indian food on an altar
I’m at the threshold of 50, feeling overwhelmed and chaotic, sublimating hard. Turns out planning a big bday, a visa/transatlantic move, shedding 90% of my belongings, managing complicated relationships, and keeping my shit together is hard. Woke up to this, my leftover dinner on my altar.
Vinalhaven sugar overload.
The Olson house in Cushing, Maine
Wandering goth at the Olson house
The grave of Christina Olson of Christina’s World by Andrew Wyeth
Andrew Wyeth’s grave in Cushing, Maine
Teenage me is so stoked to visit the site that inspired Christina’s World by Andrew Wyeth.
I’m on Boomer tech support duty today, apparently. I hope I have some years of tech proficiency between when they’re gone and when I can’t figure out how to work an iPhone.
Shockingly high. They kinda fling themselves up. They are bottom feeders!
5 teen girls in the 80s, 4 in pastel and one in black
Eighth grade, 1988
One of these kids is not like the others. #neverendingmathequation
People sitting on a river bank watching a big silvery fish jump out of the water.
A riverside boardwalk with colorful chairs
I went to Hallowell to watch the sturgeons jump out of the water (no one knows why I guess) on their way to/from spawn. A burgeon of sturgeons. #hallowell #maine
Six mos after murdering my good knee by falling off a ladder, had my last follow up. Sports med doc said I’m doing great for someone cruising around with no ACL or MCL and a torn meniscus. No surgery; I’ve been going to the gym 5-6 days/week for almost two mos. It’s still tricksy, but I’m upright.
Today in a coffeeshop, a complete stranger asked if I was a witch. My first impulse was to say yes (which I did), but my second was to ask who sent them to me.
I asked Jay Baruchel about our flight status while stranded in the airport in Montreal.
Divine, one of my all-time faves.
Cloris Leachman told me I was beautiful but my arms were too big while we shared a table at LPQ in Brentwood. She suggested I eat “less bready things and more soupy things.” I rankled, “Thanks but I don’t get paid for how I look.” She said, “Sure you do, honey. We all do.” #RIP #clorisleachman
I am so happy to hear that Savannah came out.
They are SO tiny. Also they do a sploot when they fly, and we decided that because they’re so fast, it should be called the Turbo Sploot.
That’s actually kind of funny. Good job, Savannah!
She was the COOLEST. You can and should tour the house if you’re ever on Staten Island. My aunt’s memorial was there, and it’s lovely. Alice used to ride around NYC on an early bicycle, with all her equipment. What a cool person.
Aww it was a good day for puffins. I’ll say hi to the coast for you, bud. Also what is it about puffins that 1) makes them all look half-surprised to be there and 2) gives me hellacious cute aggression. I just want to cuddle them in my arms and SQUEEZE their little cheeks.
Damn right. The anger I have about fascists oppressing and harassing the indigenous and historical first residents of my home state of California when my gen X white ass actually IRL KNEW the first person in my family to move there. The hubris is just beyond.
I didn’t protest today, but I did go on a birding boat trip led by my friend Bird Kate. I saw: puffins, eiders, gulls, murres, loons, oystercatchers, a porpoise, a seal, terns, and some Wyeth islands. I love Maine with my whole heart, I truly do.
Absolutely. Part of Shan’s point is I think that poor and rural stories aren’t platformed very often and I fully agree. But in the US at least, the class war has stratified the cultural difference further — so there especially aren’t many outlets for poor or rural voices that aren’t conservative.
“It’s a long list of mistakes you made, king. And I’m going to start with the … worst.”
For what it’s worth, I would love to read rural maritimes stories.
But I can see why and how other folks do. Where I grew up, rednecks were the enemy. Not because they were poor (everyone was poor) but because the loudest and meanest of them were white Christian nationalists who beat the shit out of the rest of the fringe community.
I was in that workshop and others with the same instructor, and have concluded that they can be tetchy about socio-economic or marginalized groups that they aren’t personally familiar with. I also grew up in a trailer but not in a conservative family, so I don’t _personally_ identify as a redneck.
Amazing!
I’m moving to Spain this fall. That’s it; that’s the post. I’m scared and excited and determined and a little sad about it, but it’s something I’ve been wanting to do for 25 years. I’m 50 next month, and I’m going for it.
