Well

It is 7:17 PM on Election Day 2024, and I’m nervous. We have a neighborhood association board meeting tonight for God knows what reason (well it’s because it’s always on the first Tuesday of the month but still) and I am the secretary of the association and so I have to pay attention to the proceedings and just lol. I had a glass of wine with dinner, which is a thing that I don’t normally do on a Tuesday night, and it feels like not enough. The edge is still there. 

It was a beautiful day today. I worked from home, and after conquering my nervous distraction, had a very productive afternoon. That’s all shot to hell now. The returns are starting to come in and I am boycotting Indiana and Kentucky as if I’d ever visit either of those places to begin with, but still. 

My Kamala t-shirt got in the way of some sauce and I sprayed some stain remover on it but I’m not taking it off. This t-shirt feels very talismanic. This t-shirt is holding my body together right now. If I change my shirt, I might undergo a rapid unplanned disassembly. Maybe just one more glass of wine. What is the worst that could happen? 

*****

Well wasn’t that a prophetic and obviously unwise question because I jinxed the entire country. It’s weird how today, November 6 2024, I am feeling the exact opposite of happy, healthy, confident, and free. 

The board meeting ended much earlier than is typical for those meetings, which was all to the good, but of course within an hour I was wishing that I was back on that call or really anywhere except in my family room watching election returns. I did have another glass of wine, which absolutely did not take the edge off. The edge is sharp. 

Like many people, I’m sad and furious and expect to be so for some time. But I’m going to just keep doing everything I need to do, and I’m going to try to be there for others who feel just as bad or worse. I’m going to try to be kind, as much as I can. But I do want to point out that if a person voted for Trump, that person is a Trump supporter. That is the definition of a supporter. I’ll have very little patience with anyone out here saying that “I voted for him because (immigration, inflation, crime, transgender prison surgery, blah blah blah) but that doesn’t mean that I support him.” Yes actually it does. Live with it. And I will lose my shit with the first person who tries the gaslighting “that’s not what he means” trope with me. Yes it is what he means, all of it. The FA part of this timeline was no fun whatsoever. I hope that the FO part won’t be as bad as I fear. 

Novemberish

Remember two weeks ago, when the Republican candidate for President addressed the very important subject of a dead golfer’s genitalia during a campaign speech? And then remember last week when that same candidate took part in a rally where speakers called Puerto Rico a floating island of garbage, and made jokes about Latinos breeding like rabbits and Black people carving watermelons for Halloween and a “businessman” called Kamala Harris a prostitute? And then remember two days ago when he speculated about Liz Cheney in front of a firing squad (yes that is what he meant)? And then remember yesterday when he mimicked a sex act on a microphone after threatening to knock the hell out of the venue staff? Every time I think this has to be the thing that ends this disaster, there’s another thing that makes the last thing seem like the gosh-darn good old days. 

By the way, the Arnold Palmer jokes and the microphone thing were televised. Where are the Moms for Liberty? Won’t anyone think of the children? 

*****

Yesterday (Saturday November 2, three days out) was a really lovely day. We took the Metro to the Marymount swim meet at Gallaudet, a lovely and picturesque place especially in early November. We scuffed through the leaves in the .7 mile walk to the Gallaudet Field House, and Harris-Walz signs were everywhere in the NoMa neighborhood surrounding the campus. People were out and about, and the atmosphere was festive. Marymount won the meet in decisive fashion. Later, we took my mother-in-law to dinner for her birthday, where I drank entirely too much sangria, a rare excess for which I have absolutely no regrets. The Washington Capitals beat the Columbus Blue Jackets, continuing the best start they’ve had in years. I’d love to say that I stayed up late to watch Kamala’s appearance on SNL, but I don’t drink very much and I was asleep by 10:45. 

It’s Sunday now, and we’re just entering the fleeting weeks of perfect November light, melancholy and golden. And hopeful this year too, because I think that Kamala Harris is going to win this election. She’s going to win, and she’s going to prevail in all of the multiple Trumpity Trumpster legal challenges, and our long national nightmare will finally end. And a woman will finally finally finally get a chance to lead the country that I love so much. 

Touching the grass

If you’re on social media for more than five minutes a day, then you have seen the videos of parents and politicians and tour guides and doctors and lawyers and who knows who else using Gen Z slang, sometimes with on-screen translations, which are entirely necessary. Skibidi toilet rizz. It’s giving mildly humorous, no cap. 

*****

Last Saturday was a perfect day, especially if you like autumn-y PSL football weather. It was sunny and blue-skied but also a little overcast, enough that the sunlight was filtered and soft and not glaring but not so much that rain would seem likely. It was cool but not cold. It was breezy but not windy. I wanted to be outside, and not just to walk around the neighborhood or hang out in my backyard. I wanted nature but not camping nature, not hiking up a mountain or trekking through the woods nature. Brookside Gardens was just the thing. It’s practically around the corner from my house, and it’s just lovely - peaceful and beautiful, with just the right combination of real and cultivated nature, rife with walking paths and gazebos and ponds spanned by little foot bridges. Brookside is small, so you can walk through pretty much all of it in an hour or so; but there’s enough to look at that you could spend an afternoon. 

Lots of other people had the same idea, which was nice, actually. I like other people. There was a wedding group gathering for a photo (Brookside is a very popular wedding photo spot) and retired people getting their steps in and families with little children, much like we were not very long ago. I hadn’t been to Brookside in over a year but when my children were little, I was there all the time. My little boys loved to run on the paths. There was a climbing structure with little speakers, and you could push the buttons and hear different bird calls. It might still be there. There was a maze, which is still there but the dirt pathways through the maze are now paved over with stones that contrast with the larger, darker stones that outline the paths, but the contrast isn’t great, and so it just looks like a great big circle now. I liked it better with the dirt paths. The Japanese tea house, accessible by a little boardwalk and a little footbridge, is being repaired now so we couldn’t sit in there but I’m glad they’re maintaining it. 

We spent about an hour and a half at Brookside. We strolled around on the paths and walked through the conservatory buildings. We looked at plants and flowers and trees, and sat on benches near the ponds, and absorbed sunshine and breathed fresh air. It was just the thing. 

*****

I have not adopted very much of the new online jargon for my own use, even though much of it is colorful and delightful and hilarious (though nonsensical), because it would be silly for a 59-year-old woman to run around babbling like a 15-year-old on TikTok. It’s just not my language. 

But I do find myself saying “touch grass” all the time. First, it’s a concise and sharp but not mean way to dismiss someone - “go touch grass” is the 2024 version of “get lost” or “go jump in the lake” (which are also both still very serviceable). But “touch grass” is also solid advice to a person who’s losing their grip, as in “go touch grass.” Go put down your phone and step away from the news. Go outside and take a walk, get some fresh air. Touch some grass and some flowers and some trees. Breathe. The influencers are always out here telling people to touch grass, and having taken that advice, I can tell you that they are not wrong. I spent last Saturday afternoon touching all the grass that Brookside Gardens had to offer, and I felt so much better. 

Two words that say so much - “Touch grass” is a pretty much perfect expression. I’m pretty sure that in 25 years, no one will remember “skibidi toilet,” but “touch grass” has officially entered the lexicon.