Good Things In Their Moment, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:27am
The news, which I have been sitting on until it was official, is that my son has sold his debut novel. End of Life will be published by Harcourt Brace’s Mariner imprint, publication date TBD.
I will of course say more when the book comes out. For now I just want to congratulate him, and share my pride and joy with you. Over the years you’ve been more fun than a barrel of monkeys and so kind.
Patrick has been this person, with this capacity, since he was a tiny boy. Although he’s no longer chubby-cheeked with feet like little marshmallows, he has never in these 35 years trusted himself less than the world. He has worked hard. And as I have said before, the past decade has been tough for my family but hard times go and come, so I am taking this exact moment, on this very day, to fully feel pride and gratitude to the universe. Thanks, ‘Verse. Hope you don’t mind my informality.
I wish you all a very happy weekend.
Not-So-Little Black Dress And A Red Lip, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:57am
During the pandemic, while everyone else was making beautiful sourdough loaves, I invested in feathers. So to speak. Does anyone remember, not saying you should,
Fortunately Nobody Was Injured, Or, Saturday Morning At 10:07am
Breaking news: We are boycotting Amazon, Target and Home Depot – just through Monday. The goal is to send a message that we, the consumer,
Cruciferous Or Otherwise, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:04am
Silver, which in fact we use every day in its tarnished state, has been polished. Unlike many I don’t care for the task; like many
Best Wedding Ever, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:00am
If you are staring at a blank page, wondering why the post is taking so long to load, one word: photos. Here’s a story of
Storing Up Hope, Or, Saturday Morning at
Good morning. Hope. Hope doesn’t mean “Yeehaw we’re all set now, nothing but blue skies, la la la!” It’s more like the cleared space when
Candy Past, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:07am
Our doorbell rang three times last night. In decades past I’d have expected 40 or 50 ding-dong-dings. Maybe 60. I am not sure what has
My Brief And Surface-Level Dalliance With Cosmetic Dermatology, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:03am
Foundation. Let’s also include the subcutaneous variety, yes? By which I mean to say that in preparation for my daughter’s wedding I spent a little time at the cosmetic dermatologist. The wedding snapshot above has not been altered in any way, except by joy. With reluctance, I have refrained even from whitening my lower two front teeth, but authenticity is required for this. As I have said before, I shudder at fillers and couldn’t imagine a recreational scalpel near my face. But last September, as my birthday present to myself, I had some bumps removed from my forehead. (Look up
Line Dancing And Democracy Are Best Friends, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:07am
Off we go! Not my color, this shirt, but moral principle over color palettes, I always say. Apparently the color for No Kings is yellow. This time I’m heading to Oakland, pearls and all, where we are promised a line dance and multicultural food trucks. I love this country. Have an amazing Saturday, my friends, and don’t forget your sun-protecting Tilley hat and Ray-Bans. Maybe next week we’ll talk foundation. Of the skin sort, having done our bit for the foundations of institutional justice today.
Putting Our History On The Line, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:01am
First, it is lovely to have this community celebrating my daughter’s wedding, and thank you all so much for the kind comments. Second, and let me hasten to add the High WASP’s prophylactic apology for anything untoward, today I’m posting about next Saturday, October the 18th. A nationwide “No Kings” protest is coming. Above is one of my signs. Having demystified my culture and background here on this blog, courtesy of you fine people, I am no longer terribly impressed by my ancestry. We all get born from someone, usually a woman for that matter. Famous men gotta famous. But