At my parents’ house in Boston for Thanksgiving this week, sleeping in the bedroom that used to be mine and was then my youngest brother’s and now apparently goes to whomever stays the longest. It snowed on Tuesday, a gentle flurry that kissed the ground and melted. Here in CA it’s foggy, with the welcome promise of rain next week.
1. Ruby the Robot Vacuum Cleaner. I gave in and bought one a few weeks ago, and I’m in love. She’s not very smart—it’s maddening to watch her bumble around—but hot darn is she effective.
2. On the blog re-read. Going through all my blog posts has been a journey, one worth blogging about in its own right. For now, I will say simply that I encourage you to explore the tags and the categories, especially the Pinned Posts, and share your thoughts with me.
3. Meal Plan. I am diving into fall with the meal planning this week. I made chicken stock on Saturday, to use as the base for a three bean chili and black bean soup. I also made apple butter, which I haven’t had since I was a kid at overnight camp but remember as being completely delicious. What are your favorite fall recipes? I’ve also noticed that making yogurt in the Instant Pot seems to take twice as long when I use organic, no hormone, hippie milk. Has anyone else had this issue?
4. Old friends. I met up with my best friend from high school while I was in town, just a coffee date at the local Not Starbucks. She is, in Anne of Green Gables terms, a kindred spirit. When I tell her that the last year has felt like a continuous emotional hurricane, she gets it, in a way that few of my other friends do. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since we’ve seen each other. We’re made from the same stuff—starlight and gauze, glitter and steel.
5. Resonance. At some point, certain things start to become easier to say. I was at a party the other day, and somebody wondered out loud about the possibility of an app like Tindr or Bumble, but more geared toward friends, with a built in system for people to rate someone as not sketchy. Something where you could set clear boundaries at the start, like “I’m looking for someone to eat dinner with and that’s it.” I wouldn’t do it, I said. I wouldn’t trust it. I was date raped. After I told him when we walked into my apartment that I didn’t want to have sex. I shrugged and the conversation moved on. I didn’t feel triggered or traumatized. I was happy to continue speaking with the same people. It was a thing, I’d said it, it was done.
I would have left it at that, without writing about it here, except that a few days later, I received a message from someone who uses the same meditation app I do. I read your blog, he said, since you put the link there, and I wanted to tell you how much your story resonated with me. My wife is a classical music critic whose work ended the careers of three major abusers. For months after #metoo, she heard stories from men and women. Often in tears, the first time they’d told anyone.
And I thought, I’m going to keep saying this. I’m going to keep writing about it. Because every time I name what happened it looses a little bit of its power. Every time I speak about it, someone else comes forward. This, too, is healing.
Links & Things
Telegram to MoneyGram: the case I’ve been working on for the better part of five years finally has a resolution (of sorts).
“To build a wall is to know that it will one day fall.” On the symbolism of walls throughout the ages.