I feel blue today despite the fact that it was such a beautiful one out there. Despite the fact that I talked to many friends, have vases of fresh flowers in my home, and look forward to my mom, sister, and nephew coming on Wednesday.
My eyes are itchy, my hair lacks luster. I am glum and flat. Alarmingly, my writing well feels dry. I have been short with the kids all afternoon; they were beasts yesterday, just unlikeable little twerps, and I think it took something out of me. It feels that way, but I can't be sure. I do not like days like this: they feel discordant.
Have you read this book? Or any by Oliver Sacks? He is one whose death I still mourn. Like Alan Rickman and Christopher Hitchens and Nora Ephron and Philip Seymour Hoffman and Nanny. Their absences in this world feel palpable to me, like holes with sieves for bottoms. Even when some openings clog, the others remain free and the filling slips through.
I feel lucky that Dr. Sacks, a neurologist and author, wrote and shared so much with the world before he died last year. This book has thus far been an absolute delight. It's like sitting on a soft couch alongside a dear friend whose fascinating life keeps unspooling before you. How is there still more to learn? you wonder. How did you fit so much living into your life? you muse. What a gift you are. you aver.
I find Sacks' authenticity and approachability, his very self, captivating. He's one of those I'd seat at my table if I had my dream dinner party.
In any case, I've been glad for his company today and again this evening after I made a beautiful and awful dinner.
I guess it wasn't awful but it wasn't particularly good. I threw half of this swordfish away-too fishy- and took comfort in a pint of Talenti's scrumptious Pumpkin Pie gelato. I'm not much of an ice cream girl, so that it was my refuge (plus Friday's Real Time with Bill Maher; I love him) really says everything you need to know about today.
The election cannot come soon enough. Surely that's sitting on my shoulders. I didn't even think about that until earlier today and only then when prompted by a comment I heard or read. Which was it? It doesn't much matter.
What does matter, desperately, is next month's outcome. Inspired by a friend's campaign involvement, I somewhat rashly agreed to go to Pennsylvania later this month to canvass, drive folks to early voting sites if need be, whatever.
This is not in my comfort zone, y'all. Not at all. But I won't be able to sit with myself if I don't act, and so, in three weeks hence, I'm hitting the pavement. I think I'll be scared at first, but that's growth. I hope my boys see a mom they're proud of, learn another way to get involved, stand for something, and lean into discomfort (I stole that phrase from Jack's 3rd grade teachers; I love it.) regardless of age.