One of the things you can do when you’ve been awake since one and puttering about since three, is watch the sunrise.
Earlier: I bathed in moonlight. It’s a waning gibbous moon, but very bright. There were shadows.
In a show of solidarity, Finn followed me out and after sitting close and nudging my hand for scratches, curled up in my armpit. That’s the kind of moment dogs give you over and over, willingly and without reserve.
I was lying on the grass on my hard plastic bolster. It may or may not do anything corrective for my spine, that bolster, but every time I stretch my length on it, I groan with pleasure.
Back release under the moonlight. That’s about as radical as it gets these days!
Usually when I don’t sleep, I don’t have to be concerned about accomplishing much the following day. Today company is coming for a patio dinner.
I worry about these encounters, a little. I keep reading about people who “did everything right” and found themselves sick with Covid19 anyway. One such tale centered around an outdoor dinner, no other known possible exposure.
On the other hand, a psychologist friend seeded the idea this week that a kind of de-socialization is taking place. We’re forgetting how to interact with one another. So it seems important to do this. To visit and connect.
Earlier (but after moonlight): finished a memoir by Abigail Thomas. I’d already read the one where she talks about how her husband was mowed down on a NYC street and left with a traumatic brain injury. A Three Dog Life. Well worth the read.
What Comes Next and How to Like It features really great stuff about aging, friendship, relationships with kids and grandkids. Memory. Illness. She’s a dog person big time, so there’s that, too.
I recommended this book to a friend who’s writing a memoir in part because of how short and sweet many of Thomas’s chapters are — almost like diary entries, often no more than two paragraphs long. Somehow, it makes the business of constructing a memoir seem more doable.
Have to share with you a great new term picked up on Twitter: DOOM SCROLLING.*
No definition required, right?
I did that before I got out of bed. In case you’re inclined to suggest that I not expose myself to toxic terrifying national news while lying awake in the middle of the night — let me just say, I wasn’t gonna sleep anyway.
*Imani Gandi @AngryBlackLady
Feel like the nannying of other peoples’ internet/news absorption habits is not very relevant these days. Maybe even a little Karen-ish depending on how zealously the “I’m telling you that you shouldn’t” motif is pursued. Whatever may or may not be good mental hygiene is shifting and degrading as much as anything else. Many of us are searching for shreds of legit information and a lot of us are also additionally keeping very conscious track of the lies and disintegrating relationship with larger reality. Internally counter-programming the psy-ops is becoming a intensely invasive part time job at least for me.
as always I revel in your example of … exemplifying … the kind of energy you hold because it’s so similar to the white girl I know myself to be. I was gonna say ‘unsqueamish’ but that’s not really what it is. It’s like the dealing with fear thing and the Mohawk descendants who literally built the Manhattan sky line. But switched over to dealing with squeamish-ness *because* of its power not in spite of it.
huh. another puzzle piece of self falls into place …
I’m not sure my keeping track of a lot of the stuff going on makes any kind of difference but it feels somehow essential. And it IS time consuming.
Not sure what last long paragraph means but since it sounds like a compliment, I’ll take it.
To be with dog, under the moon, back stretching sounds rather peaceful and makes me wish I’d kept my back firm foam roller in the move. I hadn’t used it in years and who knew I’d be so Home as I have been. The book sounds really good! Really.
I agree about the socialization leaving us and for me it is also an energy thing. I tip-toed to my sister’s porch last week, sat on opposite ends, with masks…even this made me uncomfortable as I’ve not seen anyone since March. I can’t begin to explain how tired I was that night & the next day! What was so different about sitting on her porch or my couch? I can guess just the energy of communication in the flesh with someone other than J. What will it be when I work again I wonder/worry?
I so enjoy coming here and reading your days, your world. Be well, in all ways, Dee. xo
The roller is a space hog. Because we have a large dog crate in the living room, if I slide the bolster nearby, it’s like two eyesores blending together. Not invisible exactly, but not glaring.
I am starting to think that we are all going to need to be thoughtful and strategic (with self care) when it’s time to make some of these transitions.
When I remember to care, to do something helpful, my body reminds me I’ve been away too long. This is a most satisfying post dear Dee. I read you like memoir chapters sometimes and it feels like listening.
Abigail Thomas sounds like someone who would find a place on my memoir shelves (my preferred genre) … thanks for the lead
your underlined text reminded me of a challenging time in my life, during which my boss advised that the usual interpretation of a particular Bible verse was to “be thankful FOR all things” … but it was in fact to “be thankful IN all things” … and that made all the difference