Fuck the Pilgrims

We wanted to enjoy a nice “Fuck the Pilgrims” Thanksgiving this year, then our family decided they wanted to come here for the holiday, so we scrapped that idea and went all in with a regular old Thanksgiving. Then we decided that Covid has no chill and it was not a good idea to have a house full of guests this holiday, and probably any holiday until this shit is under control, so now we are back to a “Fuck the Pilgrims” Thanksgiving.

We aren’t really sure what a “Fuck the Pilgrims” Thanksgiving looks like, maybe we get pilgrim statues and hang them from their necks over the fireplace? Too gruesome? Or maybe we make a list of all the lands the pilgrims stole from the Indigenous People, and we donate five dollars for each land we come up with? Too expensive? Okay, maybe we just learn about the lands near us that were stolen from the Indigenous People, read about small box blankets and what not, and give thanks that the Native Americans are as resilient as they are? Perfect.

The point is Thanksgiving, like Christmas, is just an excuse for us to be with family, enjoy each other’s company, and eat a ton of good food. We don’t prescribe to the whole “Thank you” toward those first settlers who were monsters, and no, we aren’t grateful for them. I mean, I could be living in London right now, speaking with a British accent and going on about my business and not being led by one Donald Trump, so ehh.

Sure, I’m happy to be in America (sometimes) but I don’t really care either way because the truth of the matter is, you make the most of wherever you are, and that’s that. So yeah, fuck the pilgrims and their blooding and plundering, they didn’t do me any bloody favors.

Happy Fuck the Pilgrims Week, y’all.

M.

Georgia, Please Vote

The Georgia Run-off Election for two senate seats and a public commissioner seat is on January 5th. The candidates are that bitch Kelly Loeffler, ugh, against Rev. Raphael Warnock in one race, and a piece-of-shit-Gov.-Brian-Kemp-ass-licker David Purdue against Jon Ossoff.

It’s important to note that Kelly Loeffler was not voted into her current seat, she was placed there by that ass-hat Gov. Brian Kemp. It’s also important to know that both have come out in support of Trump’s outrageous lies about election fraud, which makes sense considering they both lost in the election.

To be clear, there is a state law in Georgia that requires candidates (other than the ones in the Presidential race) to receive 50% + 1 of the votes in order to win. None of the candidates in the two senate races were able to do that in the general election, though Purdue and Ossoff were the closest because it was only the two of them.

The other race had too many names to count. Several Republicans and several Democrats and maybe Little Wayne, who can remember. Anyway, even with those odds Reverend Raphael Warnock, the pastor at Ebenezer Baptist Church (MLK’s church) won the most votes with 30-some percent of the vote. Warnock even beat that bitch Kelly Loeffler. (By the way I keep trying to make her name lowercase because she’s that much of a bitch, but it autocorrects it. Did I mention she is friends with that crazy QAnon lady?)

So what can you do? Well if you live in Georgia please vote! You can vote absentee, anyone can, Jerimiah and I requested our ballots last week. You can also vote early in-person at any precinct, starting three weeks before the election with the exception of Christmas Day, or you can vote in-person on Election Day. If you wait until Election Day to vote, you have to vote at your assigned precinct.

If you do not live in Georgia you can help too! Jerimiah and I have been phone banking this week, which is really easy to do! We have been phone banking with an organization we are apart of, the DeKalb Democrats, which is our county’s Democratic group, but several groups are doing it. You can Google it and it will take you to a group to help out.

You can also send money to either Ossoff or Warnock, you can purchase items from their website, we have a Warnock shirt and a bad-ass Ossoff shirts that says, “Vote your Ossoff!”

So, why would you want to help? As you can see in the above, these two seats would swing the senate into a 50-50 tie (the two Independents vote with Dems, hello Bernie!) for control and guess who the tie-breaker is in the event it comes down to one? The Madam Vice-President!

With control of the White House, Congress, and the Senate, Biden can certainly get some good things done in the first two years, at least. So this is a very important election. It also is probably why you are super tired of reading and hearing about this great state of ours when you turn your tv on or open your favorite news source, but y’all, this is why it’s so important.

I implore you to help us out if you can, if you have the means, if you have the time. If you live in Georgia PLEASE vote! Vote like you did in for the General Election, vote like your life depends on it, because it does.

Be safe and sane, y’all.

M.

Dam Yam Hypothesis

We cancelled our Thanksgiving plans this year, more on that at a later time, but instead of having a houseful, it will just be the three of us (five of us if we count the dogs, some days I do, some days when I think I might kill one of them, I don’t). Still, even though there will only be three, maybe five, of us eating yams we bought the biggest can that Sam’s Club has. Why? They are yams, damn it.

The point of this is that the can of Bruce’s Yams is now sitting on our kitchen counter, because where does one fit a nine-pound can of yams? And Jackson has taken a liking to showing whomever he Facetimes with, his grandfather, his friends, his school study group, the can of yams sitting on our counter, while saying, “Look how crazy my parents are!”

Yesterday another sixth-grader yelled, “Oh my goodness, my parents have a six-pound can of strawberries on our counter!” And much to my hilarity I was sufficiently absolved of my yam guilt as Jackson said to his father, “Daddy, you and mommy are not the only crazy parents! Andrew’s parents have a six-pound can of strawberries!”

And just like that the world righted itself.

But by this time the question of how many yams are in the can had presented itself, leaving Jackson with a long division problem that he didn’t want to do, but one that Jerimiah made him do. Turns out, there are approximately 11 yams in the can. At least according to the “Dam Yam Hypothesis.”

Stay strong parents! And get those yams!

M.

Flannery O’Connor

So I have this term paper due on Flannery O’Connor and her collection of stories, A Good Man is Hard to Find and Other Stories and if you don’t already know this, then you haven’t been paying attention. I’ve been complaining about Flannery O’Connor since the moment I was assigned her back in August, even though it was my own doing, like, I picked her from a list of authors and books, authors and books I would gladly trade with a classmate right now because I swear to all the holy peafowl the name Flannery O’Connor is getting on my last fucking nerve at this point.

Whew. Okay, deep breathes.

My paper is due…ummm… yesterday? Today? Friday? Our professor has moved the due date because she is gracious and kind and because we are all, “Uhhh, umm, about the final paper…” Our professor is cool. I like her. I hate Flannery O’Connor at this point.

Lately I’ve been waking up arguing with myself. I’ll be coming out of that dreamlike trance one is in upon their dog licking their face first thing in the morning and I’ll be thinking, “Flannery O’Connor is a raving racist.” Then my dog will lick my face more, and I’ll be all, “No, Flannery O’Connor was commenting on racism,” then more licks and then, “Flannery O’Connor was just a victim of her time.” Then finally I’ll yell, “Stop licking my face, God damn it, Flannery! Err, Winnie!” And I’ll begrudgingly start my day.

Life is weird.

Anyway, I better go work on this damn paper. Have a pleasant, Flannery O’Connor-less rest of your day, assholes.

M.

Squirrel-Lee

Thursday of this week was a bit hectic. Jerimiah had to go to his office for a meeting (gasp) I hate when he has to leave the house for work. I’m so used to him being at home with us where it’s, you know, safe. And I never feel prepared on those days. Truly he’s only left about four days since the second week of March, but still. So, he was gone all day, the dogs were acting nuts, I had class, Jackson had class, I planned to cook a nice dinner and have it ready in the hour between when Jerimiah would be home (5:00 pm) and my class started (6:00 pm). In a normal year the time between five and six is also known as “Hell Hour” on account of all I’m trying to juggle. Of course I haven’t experienced “Hell Hour” in like seven months now so this week it took me by surprise.

It was a pretty uneventful day, save for the crazy dogs, then suddenly (as it happens) all hell broke loose. Jackson had a bit of a meltdown concerning math, I had started dinner, my phone was ringing, Jerimiah was texting me about an errand I had him run, and just when I was like, “The hell, Thursday?!” the baby squirrel showed up at the front door.

What now?

For sure. A tiny, baby squirrel who had fallen out of a tree and was in such shock that it was trying to get into our house, while the dogs lost their mind at the glass front door, then tried to climb the brick by our front door and fell again. I couldn’t take it anymore, so Jackson and I sprang into action (after I turned the heat down on the mushrooms I was sautéing.)

I immediately remembered the last time I had saved a baby squirrel, many moons ago in North Carolina. I’d Googled “Squirrel rescue” and a place had popped up and I called them and was schooled in squirrel rescue. In fact, I learned so much that I had saved the number in the event it happened again, and had just, last month, deleted the contact: “Squirrel Lady” from my phone. After all, she had been the Lincoln County, NC “Squirrel Lady” so she wasn’t going to be much help now. But I did remember some key points.

1. Don’t touch it without gloves.

2. Put it near a tree, the mother is probably around just waiting.

3. If it comes to you for help it’s probably in shock, they aren’t that trusting.

4. Only call someone to come get it if it looks terribly injured.

5. Do not try to keep/rescue/rehabilitate it yourself.

Number five came in handy a few times when Jackson begged to keep “Lee” as we named him. “Squirrel Lee.”

Obviously Jackson wanted to save Lee, so he put on his ski gloves and went for it. Meanwhile I was cutting the Brussel Sprouts to roast them, and hoping my kid wouldn’t get bit by a rabid squirrel. Hell Hour, geez.

Turns out Lee loved Jackson, so much so that every time Jackson would place him back by the tree, Lee would run back to Jackson to get picked up. It went on like this until I finally had to say enough and force Jackson to come inside so the Mommy squirrel had a chance to come back. The whole time I was terrified I’d find a dead Lee in the morning, and also had a dream of Lee trying to break into the house and cuddle in bed with me. I dunno, y’all. I dunno.

Anyway, Friday morning Lee was gone. And Jackson was happy, but also sad. And I was still burping up Brussels Sprouts from the night before.

The squirrel-Lee story.

The end.

M.

**Please don’t try this at home, we are not trained professionals.**

Do You Look Foolish?

You know any of those people who are convinced that when the election is over Covid-19 will be gone? I know a few. Am related to a few. Conspiracy theorists who honest-to-God think Covid-19 is a political… what? Stunt? A political stunt? My mom called me this week to tell me that her friend from church, the one she hugged a couple weeks back, the one who got sent to the hospital for Covid-19, the one who infected her husband, then they were both intubated, that friend, that friend that was four years younger than my mom, she died alone in her hospital room. Wow. I don’t know what to say to people who call Covid-19 political, but they are wrong. In some cases, dead wrong.

Jerimiah and I were discussing mask-wearing. We live in a county that mandates it. Which is nice. It takes pressure off of us to even think twice about wearing one, as if we wouldn’t wear one. But when I talk to my family and friends back in the midwest I hear stories of people who do not wear masks, like the majority of people. And now Covid-19 is spreading like wildfire there and they are all shocked. Like legit surprised that people in (gasp) Kansas (gasp) could get sick.

So why don’t people want to wear masks? They say it infringes on their rights to be told to wear a mask. “It’s my right!” they say, and certainly it is their right to decide to wear a mask, but it isn’t their right to spread a lethal virus.

See the flaw in their logic there?

They wear seatbelts, these people. They don’t drink and drive, these people. (Well, actually most of the conspiracy theorists I know are the first ones to admit to having a couple DUIs on their record. They are heavy drinkers, these conspiracy theorists.) My point is that they have accepted other mandates to secure public safety. To make it harder for their choices, ill-advised at best, to hurt someone else. So why can’t they wear a piece of cloth on their face that could save lives? Because they look foolish?

There’s another theory out there, the old: “I’m gonna get it eventually” theory. This theory comes from the same people who refuse to take responsibility for their actions. You know the type, nothing is ever their fault, the universe just hates them, bad juju and what not.

No, it isn’t likely you will get Covid-19, unless you actively take steps not to ensure your safety and the safety of those around you. Unless you put yourself in situations that are hotbeds for Covid-19. I’ve heard people say, “Oh darn, I’m probably gonna get Covid,” as they head off to concerts, do bar crawls, and attend football parties with 50 people crammed into some dude’s basement. Uh, no shit you’re probably gonna get it. But it wasn’t the universe that dictated that, it was your dumb decisions.

Listen, we fucked up. As a country, we majorly missed the mark back in April when we started to open up again. It is 80% the fault of our current administration, the lack of leadership from the top down, and 20% because we are selfish sons-a- bitches who don’t want to be bothered, or have our lives changes in any significant way. But we did. And we do. And this is the new normal. People are getting sick. They are dying. And you are either part of the problem or part of the solution.

It’s time to make a decision. Learn from your mistakes.

And for the love of all the cheeses in the world, stop with the conspiracy theories, you look like a lunatic and I assure you EVERYONE is talking shit on you behind your back. Talk about looking foolish…

Be better.

M.

Waxing Intellectual

I tried to wax my ‘stache this week and it didn’t go well. Listen, I have the kind of mustache that is always with me. Even right after a wax (of which I used to have done at a salon), it felt like two days later ‘ol Burt was back. I have named my mustache Burt Reynolds on account of, well, you can make that connection. Anyway, I tried these new waxing strips and they suck, but that isn’t the point of this post. The point of this post is to tell you that I had a shitty week so far, and is it over yet?

Sure the wax strips sucked. But then there was the news that I have family in Kansas who have developed Covid and they are very close to my mother and well, she 76 years old and probably shouldn’t be infected with motherfucking Covid.

I was texted the news while I was waiting to be called back to see my new rheumatologist, who by the way is very lovely and totally doesn’t think I have a bit to worry about, and I was like were you and Dr. Dickhead looking at the same results?! Turns out they were and she didn’t bat an eye at my results and said, probably, most likely, I have Fibryomiagia, but we still need to rule out some other stuff before we get there.

She put me on actual medication to help my Raynaud’s disease and she doesn’t think it is a symptom of something nefarious, she thinks it is the standalone kind that happens to women about my age. It will most likely never go away, but she said that we were would find something to help.

I’m officially never going to a male doctor again. Ever. I just won’t.

Anywho, the text came in that this family member has Covid, and has been working, going out, passing it most likely, all around (this I gather later from my mother). And that my mom was being tested and now we have to wait for those results and when I talked to Patsy yesterday she reminded me that I am in not control of other people’s lives when I yelled, “HOW ARE THEY GOING TO THE GROCERY STORE WHEN THEY DON’T KNOW IF THEY HAVE COVID OR NOT?!”

Turns out they are adults and have access to the same information from The CDC that I do and if they want to ignore sound medical advice, like self-isolating when you’ve been in close contact with someone who has it until you receive a negative result, it’s on them.

I’d just feel really shitty if I did it, if I thought I might have it and went somewhere. I’d be terrified of infecting others. I guess I just don’t get it.

There you have it. Light at the end of the tunnel? My first semester back at grad school is almost over. I have something like a week and a half on account of the shortened semester, and I’m down to a long form essay and an academic research paper. Ahhh, that’s sweet relief. Even if Burt is still around.

Please be safe, y’all. Please take Covid seriously. I can’t believe I have to say this to adults, but please don’t go out drinking at bars, don’t hop from friend’s house to friend’s house for fun, all without a mask. But if you do that, then at least don’t go around your elderly and immune-compromised relatives. You put an awful lot of people at risk and it just isn’t necessary. You actions have implications on others’ lives. I’m not sure how you’re old enough to be reading this and you don’t get that. I hope you get it now.

M.

Stress Shopping

I’m usually the one who does the stress shopping around here. And when I talk about stress shopping I’m talking about me getting antsy about something, all freaked out because I have so much to do, then doing none of it, instead taking to the couch surrounded by all the books I have to read and making groaning sounds like I’m dying while I cruise Etsy for that one thing I need so bad that I have to buy it right then. Usually, I just put it in my cart and it sits there for weeks until I finally talk myself out of it. Or, there’s the times I am trying to procrastinate all the shit I have to do and I walk into a furniture store and buy a new couch. Depends on the stress level.

But Jerimiah, he is usually better than that. He can usually keep his shit together. The world can be falling apart around him and he can be all, “I’m good.” Usually. Then this election week happened and the next thing I know, well, let’s just say that I am typing this blog right now on my new MacBook Air. Brand-spanking new. With Touch ID and e’rything. Y’all know new MacBooks had that? I did not. Now we all do.

Also, considering my old Air was about ten years old, there have been other advancements. Like did you know you don’t have to wait for 45 minutes to boot up a new MacBook? Crazy. And did you know that you can Zoom or FaceTime without any problems on a new MacBook? To be fair, I suspect that is true of most new technology. The point is when Jerimiah stress shops he stress shops big.

Anyway, just here today to share (brag) about our new laptop and to tell you to be kind to yourself. Sometimes you need to do nice things for yourself or your loved ones, and in the process it will make you feel better. I’m proud of him for acting on impulse for once. Also, depending on how long this election process takes, I’m holding out hope that he will stress-buy a 70 inch tv. I’ll let you know…

M.

Take No Shit

Yesterday was the first day in a long time I woke up feeling motivated for much of anything. I know you’re probably hearing it all over the place, but it’s true, I’ve had my faith in our country restored. Sure, 70 million people voted for hate, but way more voted against it and that’s what I’m choosing to focus on this week. I’m also choosing to focus on shutting people down that I’m tired of listening to.

People who don’t wear masks.

People who give excuses for voting for Trump.

People who think the election was rigged.

People who just want to stir up trouble, and not the good time.

I’ve had an ever-shortening respect and restraint for these people, opting more often than not to take the high road as Michelle would want me to, but I’m done with that now. I’m motivated for change.

Jerimiah said today that the racists will crawl back into their holes soon enough. I hope they don’t. I hope they stay out so we can continue to see who they are, continue to bring attention to them, then finally beat them back into their holes when the time comes.

I realize that not all the people who voted for Trump are racists in the broad sense of the term, but many of them are. Even more, however, have such fragile egos that they can’t deal with being a “loser.” Trump is one of those people so we can only assume his devout followers are as well.

But any therapist worth her weight would tell you that you shouldn’t cater to someone’s ego or it will only spell trouble. Don’t worry, there’s no catering here. I call a spade a spade, and hopefully, hopefully people like that will just steer clear of me. Because Kamala’s speech lit a fire under me on Saturday and I’m ready to unite, sure, with people willing to admit their mistakes, with the rest, well, I’m ready to hold them accountable. Someone needs to.

Be safe, and take no shit this week, y’all.

None.

M.

Refresh, Refresh, Refresh

Does anyone know what day it is? Cause all day yesterday I thought it was still Tuesday, save for those times I was curing ballots* with Georgia voters and reminding them it was Friday and they had until 5 pm to fix the problem. But it’s the next day now and I think it went back to Tuesday. So this week it was Monday (the day before Election), Tuesday (Election Day), then Tuesday, Tuesday, Friday, now I think it’s Tuesday again, but I could be wrong.

I’m not gonna lie, it felt nice to wake up to some good news on Tuesday. I even slept better on both Tuesday and Tuesday nights of this week knowing that the “Red Mirage” was a thing and soon enough, soon enough, all would be well in this world again (minus the global pandemic that is thrashing our country for the third time this year.)

I manically hit refresh on my browser all day everyday, in between reading Jesmyn Ward’s Sing, Unburied, Sing (maybe not the best time to dig into that book, but it was a homework assignment), and taking long walks in my neighborhood flipping between sad Adele songs and sad 70’s country songs.

And now here we are, Tuesday morning and I need to hit refresh on myself. I think. Yes. A refresh of sorts. But, I can’t leave my house, I can’t eat at my favorite restaurant, I can’t go cruise the mall with all its holidays lights already up. So I will sit here and drink my coffee and be proud of all that we accomplished during this week of Tuesdays.

Keep faith, be safe, stay sane. Refresh yourself.

M.

*We tried to cure ballots but by the time we got on to help at 11:30 am, they only wanted people with campaign experience because they had blown through the others with THOUSANDS of volunteers! That was, as Martha would say, “A good thing.”

Curing Ballots

People in the state of Georgia have until 5 pm today to cure their ballots. There’s something like 40,000 that need cured in DeKalb County alone. We need your help. If you can help cure ballots today and even later this week for other states (it can be done in-person or virtually) please help. I’m including a couple of links below for you.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for voting, y’all, but this isn’t over. Please help ensure that all votes get counted.

And keep faith.

M.

I’ve signed up to attend a meeting with Democratic Party of Georgia on Thursday, Dec 3, 2020. Are you free to join me? Use this link to sign up:https://www.mobilize.us/georgiademocrats/event/277342/?referring_vol=1836799&rname=Melissa&timeslot=1550927&share_medium=email_link&share_context=email_1

https://docs.google.com/document/u/0/d/12zlvKNHmoqxOmtEGsbX-AWQz5bkahYtnHPmbg173xQI/mobilebasic

The Day After the Day After

I want to write some really positive words today. be patient, but all that keeps popping into my mind is, “Damm, half this country is really some racists sons-a-bitches.” Because I think that’s what it boils down to. I think half this country would rather vote for a big-mouthed loser who spews lies, than the guy who loved Obama.

I read an article the other day that made me pause. It was about how many Trump supporters love him so much because they say he reminds them of their father. Wow. That hit me hard. Because sure, it would make sense that these people grew up with an egotistical, lying, cheating, raping, absent, drugged-up father. Sure. That checks out. Look at how they behave. Look at this vicious cycle these kinds of fathers create. It’s so damn sad and pathetic.

Obviously I’m upset today, still. I’m upset that this election was so close. Too close for my comfort. Too close to think that people have learned anything, or maybe they are just complacent? Maybe they can turn a blind eye to the marginalized people in our country, pretend they aren’t there.

I’m sad and angry that I live in a country like this. I’m sad and angry that my fellow Americans are so afraid of Black and Brown people that they turn out in droves to attempt to run busses off the road, among other things.

I’m sad and angry today, y’all.

That is all.

Stay safe and sane. Keep faith.

M.

Keep Faith

It’s tough to wake up to no news today, but it isn’t nearly as tough as waking up to the crushing defeat we saw four years ago. In fact, for me personally, waking up the day after the election four years ago was also waking up to the nightmare of my missing nephew, who turned out to have been violently murdered in the wee hours of the morning in Wichita, Kansas. So to say that I woke up this morning with a bit of trepidation would be correct. But I woke up. And so did you. And that’s all we needed to do.

I don’t like how close this race is. I don’t like it because of what it says about our country. I don’t like it because it shines a light on the racist people we thought we learning, growing, we thought our family and friends were morphing into acceptable people, that they had seen the error of their ways, their thinking, their fears, and had come to our side. A side full of love for the common lady and a love for people, for the human condition. For our Earth. For our children. But no. That didn’t happen.

Instead it’s the same battle that wages on. Except this time the crazy man is already in charge, so he gets to spew whatever kind of disinformation he wants to. Le sigh.

But, this isn’t over, Y’all. Not by a long shot. It could takes days to get all the votes counted, and we have to have faith not just in our states, in our counties, but in our courts too, as it is seeming highly likely that some form of this election will end in the courts. We have to be patient. Trust that good will trump evil. We have to, or we are no better than we were four years ago, save for a heightened sense of dread that propels us to do things, take action.

So let’s get up today. Let’s drink out coffee. Let’s wait for North Carolina to bring their numbers in. Let’s wait for Atlanta numbers! Y’all, the Atlanta numbers are not in yet. Let’s wait. Be patient. Let them say what they want. Log off of social media if you have to. Take a walk. Read a book. Paint with your kid. Wear your mask. Plan a holiday for the summer of 2023! Do something but worry today. And keep faith.

M.

Today is Election Day

PLEASE GO VOTE TODAY! For those of you who already have, I salute you. I kinda like you a lot. No, I love you. And when this pandemic is over, let’s go get a beer together, okay? For the rest of you…

VOTE!

TODAY IS THE DAY!

PLEASE GO VOTE!

I love you all.

We’ve got this.

And remember, regardless of the outcome, we have a lot of work to do, but we are in this together.

Stay safe and sane today, y’all.

M.

The Chaos After the Storm

I’m getting real fucking tired of saying this, but here we go, “The hurricane was downgraded to a tropical storm somewhere over Alabama and it got us. It got us good.” I didn’t sleep a wink. Right before bed I got the alert that said it was headed our way. Now mind you, I knew it made landfall in New Orleans, but New Orleans is a good eight hours from us so I wasn’t too worried. Then I started to get weather alerts from DeKalb County all, “Y’all, some shit fittin’ to go down tonight. Pull ya umbrellas out ya tables, pick the pinecones up out ya yard, and remember to vote. The election is six days away!” They also “closed” school, but not really because we are still going virtually on account of the Covid, but essentially they said don’t worry if you can’t log on in case you lose power “cause you will probably lose power.” Seems to be some infrastructure problems they could be working on, rather than sending me salty texts at midnight, but whateves.

So early yesterday morning, right around the time I was falling into a good sleep, Lady Winifred Beesly of Atlanta started up on her barking at random noises she heard, only it wasn’t so random. It was pinecones hitting the roof and the windows at speeds no pinecone should travel. Then the creaking of the pines started. I don’t know if you have ever watched a pine tree sway in downgraded hurricane winds, but Imma tell you it’s spooky.

Pine trees are so tall, and their roots are so far into the ground, that they are flexible trees by nature. But that doesn’t stop you from looking out your window, watching the swaying trees, wondering if you would be safer if you woke up the whole family at three am and herded them into the guest room in the basement.

The good news is we made it through the night unscathed. Relatively. The street looks like it vomited pine needles, the plants are all a little wonky, and our old windows took a beating, but the worst part was when the doorbell rang at 8:45 am and our neighbor Dale was standing at the carport with Sir Duke Motherfucking Barkington of Charlotte on a leash. What?! How did that happen?

Turns out the wind was so strong, it knocked open our wooden gate. It didn’t unlatch, just opened it up wide enough for a petite standard poodle, who hates me, to slip out undetected and romp through the neighborhood until Dale and Cookie came outside and found him running around the empty lot by their house. “Looking like he was chasing butterflies.” Yeah, that fucking checks out.

Listen, it’s been a week. And I need these storms to be over and I need this damn election to be over and I need to incorporate more gin into my life.

Hope you are all unscathed these days.

M.