I remember the day of September 11th, 2001 with unusual clarity. I remember where I was and what I did when I heard about the initial attack (my response to my friend was “that’s not funny” because I could NOT imagine it being real). I didn’t see the towers fall live. It was the only teacher the rest of that day who didn’t turn on the tv and watch the coverage. I wish I had thanked him for that. As anxious as I was to know in that class, by the end of the day, I was basically sick. Physically and emotionally I was absolutely sick. Twenty years has now passed. This week I watched a documentary on MSNBC called Memory Box which interviewed survivors of the towers and the pentagon attack in 2002 and again this (2021) spring. I really liked that because we heard about the day through the lens of these survivors as the primary source within
I adopted Genkii and Kawaii in fall of 2007. When I adopted them, they were less than a year old, about 7-9 months old. At 14, Genkii is finally less “energy” and turning into an older man. He doesn’t get “zoomies” as often. He is “talking” less. More alarming to me are some physical signs of age. His spine is probably the one I worry about the most. Genkii has always been skinny. I have always had to do a mix of 1/2 kitten food, 1/2 adult food to keep his weight at a healthy level. Kitten food has a higher fat content. When I have tried to cut out (or been unable to get) kitten food, he gets so skinny you can feel his ribs when you pet him. His ribs have a nice layer on them right now, his spine however is boney. Almost spiky. In my experience, when a cat begins to be boney like this –
I used to think (before I became a parent) that being a parent was exhausting because your kid couldn’t sleep through the night and if you could just get a full night’s sleep without “get up and feed” or “deal with nightmares” or “sick kid” (the constant “sick kid” syndrome). I have learned, this is patently untrue. An awake toddler is exhausting. First there is the “I randomly don’t like what’s happening” tantrums. Tantrums in general are exhausting, but when you know the reason and anticipate the fight you can mentally brace yourself. It’s the “you were just laughing and giggling and now you’re crying – what the hell happened?” fits that are hard. Now, I am very lucky and almost always can instantly mentally pivot to see what set my kid off – it’s almost always about not having choice (shocker, my kid is stubborn and opinionated). I try to give him as much choice as possible, but this
This is a busy month! It’s my 5th anniversary, my son’s 2nd birthday, I’ve gotten my 2nd Covid vaccine shot, and my work project is finishing (hitting serious deadlines headlong!). Oh and we’re ripping the pool out of our backyard. Yup. When we bought our house, we bought a house with a pool. We knew it would be an expense. We knew it would be work. After 3 years, we knew we didn’t care for a pool. In 2019 my in-laws gave us a gift of cash right after our son was born in order for us to afford to have a professional take care of the pool every week. It helped. A little. We still didn’t use it a lot. It isn’t something we love. We got a few quotes on removing it to decide if it’s what we might want to do. Last year with our son home we left the pool “closed.” And realized we kind of
I saw this come up in my suggested YouTube and watched it. If you are white, watch it. Because I know if you are black, you already know. I recommend watching it to you – it’s only five minutes and I think it’s a good conversation about the difference white and black people have with police. It also made me reflect on my experiences with police while I’m driving. Just the other day I was driving home from getting my son from daycare and I saw a cop sitting, clearly looking for speeders (and on a section of road notorious for speeding). Part of me was nastily glad. I hope he finds some Lexus or Mercedes driver going 15 over (ten-thousand percent possible right there!). Then I grimaced – literally – as I reminded myself the cop is more likely to look for the black kid keeping up with said Lexus or Mercedes. Damnit. DAMN IT. My first encounter while
I have mostly kept my hands off the keyboard on my blog on this issue. I’ve supported it since the beginning – but I am a white middle-class woman, I am not the voice people should be turning to on this issue. There are amazing black voices out there you should be turning to. Here are a few: Blair Amadeus Imani, Advocate, Historian, Organizer, Public Speaker, and Author I follow Blair on Instagram after I heard her Ted Talk “Queer & Muslim: Nothing to Reconcile”. She has this series called “smarter in seconds” where she covers a topic in very, very brief. Just enough to get me thinking. In writing for this blog post I found Blair also has a webpage which you may find useful. Ijeoma Oluo is a writer, speaker and internet yeller. She is the author of the #1 New York Times bestseller So You Want to Talk About Race. (this is directly from her website) I follow Ijeoma on
So I guess I DO resolutions. At least when it comes to my own reading goals every year. Goodreads “reading
By the time this post goes up it’s “yesterday,” I am writing this Wed night. My heart aches. I do not have WORDS for how much I grieve.
I can finally give a concrete example of anxiety manifesting in 2020. For the past two days or so I am bothered. I am turning it over and over and over in my mind. I get upset and grumble and gripe about it to myself. I literally start arguing with myself over it. No, I am not upset with my husband or even politics. I am worrying on a Star Trek Deep Space 9 episode. I haven’t seen it in a year or more, but it’s on my mind. For the STDS9 fans, it’s the episode when Kiko O’Brien is possessed by the bajoran Fire Demon. She has been on the planet seeing the “fire caves” which is a tourist destination and is possessed by this evil (in the bajoran religion) non-corporeal entity (a spirit). The show begins when she comes home and Miles O’Brien, her husband, is waiting for her with her favorite exotic chocolates as an apology for
We sold our guest bed this weekend. I have feelings about it. It didn’t start as our guest bed. It started as my bed. The first bed I even actually bought. When I graduated from college I took the old double-bed from my parents house which I had been using. It was ok, but after my second move with it, the wooden frame was EXTREMELY creaky. So my parents and I made me a custom bed with storage underneath (I’ve always carted around far too many books for apartment living with roommates). This bed was large enough to be upgraded to a queen mattress, but it survived through with a double. Homemade beds don’t last well when you move almost annually, and when a friend at work posted she was getting rid of her wrought iron bed and queen mattress… I jumped on it. I have since replaced the mattress, but I loved this frame. It is a great frame.