Whatever man.

See here for a small complaining post about why I wish we were all more thoughtful about covid in the schools, and parents, and homelives.

SO. My kids school requires a PCR molecular test if the kid has any of the covid symptoms. Not more than one, or seriousness or any such combination, just one. So my kid had a fever, a mild one but enough to knock her off her game and I kept her home til she recovered. Now, unless I get a doctor to say she has strep or some other distinct alternative to covid, she is essentially presumed to have covid and I have to keep her home for ten days.

And now I have another one with a fever.

SO. I feel this. I know that it is so complicated, and putting decisions like this in the hands of school nurses is just tragic. So, I really do get that. But with kids? There isn’t always a diagnosis to explain everything. Like, sometimes they just have a fever, or get a cold, you know? And yes, I’m getting two of my kids a PCR test today, Thursday, in hopes that, with a negative, they can go back to school on Monday. Because they have a dad who can GIVE a pcr test. because there were no appointments anywhere until SUNDAY. WHICH WOULD MEAN THEY COULDN”T GO BACK TIL POSSIBLY THURSDAY WHICH WOULD PUT ME AT ALMOST A WEEK PLUS OF NO SCHOOL FOR a 24 hour something or other, and in my daughter’s case she’s up and raring to go.


I work at home, and won’t be doing any today or tomorrow and that is just wretched. But what are parents doing? Taking days off? A whole week’s worth?! Are parents going to start lying? Are doctors, knowing what vaguery is doing to a typical family life? Will people just send sick kids to school? Will nurses have to meet kids at the door to keep them out? How is this being handled?

ALL of this is grotesquely caricatured in the assumption that they are negative, of course.

I do not like this, sam.

And here I am. Driving for a covid test, fingers crossed that they’ll go back to school and science is a tricky business and full of rebels and thy will be done, etc. etc. And no, my kids aren’t vaccinated yet, but honestly, it would change absolutely nothing about this post, because the protocol is the same for everyone.

and yeah, i hear you out there calling me a whiner. I do. and I know, I am.



Covid, in the shape of the light fixture in the living room. Its everywhere.


Out with a pbbbt.

well, here we are, at the end of November. Sitting pretty on a sturdy ladder, like some posed country whitegirl photoshoot. I’m even wearing buffalo plaid. (nah, i’m not.)

But anyhow, here I am, mid-way through the hardest two months of the year. Knowing my dearest lady may die soon is a humdinger, but I can’t do anything about it. I’m adding some more cooking to my list, so I can bring down food to her husband once in a while.

But all in all, I’ve survived well, more than I thought I was capable of, at this point. I had a kid-birthday party in which my ex and his nextwife were invited, and I survived and I weathered another death anniversary and an extended-family Thanksgiving which deflated because of Covid and devolved all the way into a sick kid meaning I couldn’t even go to the church fairs. I mean, my god.

And I’m laughing at myself because I am still so damn lucky. I recognize my complaints are utterly benign, sometimes funny, and I’m not exactly doing a ‘poor me’ post, but I wrote a little this morning about how and what a privilege it is to have faith. faith that everything works out somehow. I have that. I’m well aware that it is probably not going to look like I think it is, whatever the future is. . . And it is a sign and a symptom of my privilege, right? And since there is not much I can do about it, I’m going to sink down into it like I’m in a warm embrace, or a tub.

Okay, I’m off to make a sandwich for the sick kid, who I abandoned for three hours to go and do chickens, who are immeasurably harder when their water system freezes. The bitches ain’t happy, friends.

(said for humor only, although they were especially peckish today)

lovelove you,


last day of the uber pressure-filled nanoblowrimomo.


Sinking feeling.

i’ve forgotten my antidepressants for two days. (just as an fyi) Took a late dose today because I’ve started falling off the path into past losses. I even spent a minute resenting that married guy I liked so much who neglected to tell me that he was married. men can really be assholish. I know its gender fluid, that assholish-ery, but I stand by my sentence, as the body of my experience is with male assholes.

my former mother inlaw is in the hospital again, and i’ve been told now, for the third time, that she just has a little bit of time left.

She’s one of my oldest friends. I met her when I was fifteen and loved her even then, and never stopped. I will miss her terribly. I admire her so. I do not envy her children, because they really don’t know what is in store for them, despite all the assurances that they do. maybe they are in fact, different from the rest of us. time will tell i guess.

i don’t like writing bullshit like that there, but feel the need to leave it because i know how common that attitude is in me, full of resentment and past bullshittery…. just so you see me as I am.

Bullshit it is, because grief and how you feel it is yours, and yours alone and i have no right to fling my own ego on this situation.

its going to be a large loss, and we will all feel it.

I’m making cookies. Plain old chocolate chip. Enough to fill the cookie jar and more.

I’ll get through, changed, but through.

love you all.



Whelp (x2)

At the most, I’m laughing at myself for my lame-o attempt to write every day this month. And there is no ‘at the least’. I’m just laughing, and shaking my head, and doing what I can do.

Its been tough, and really good, and full and empty, and things were different than I thought and there has been a veil of sadness and I’m having to arrive at some hard decisions lately. So that is my November. My belly has been very full and complained in the most harmless of ways. It is all such a mix.

I have found the timer for the outside lights and gotten that all set up, those these first nights will probably be lit for the entire night as I’m just not savvy. . . and am craving more and more lights, but not out there. I’m imagining that I’ll end up with enough sparkle lights to leave the main lights alone. Something circus-y and yet deeply satisfying. Darkness fitting itself in and around the light.

We’ll arrive when we arrive, right?

I’m not there yet with healing and self-sufficiency in November, I’ve got a ways to go. There is grief, and dissatisfaction, and a growing need to assert. I’m not all that good with asserting myself and so sometimes I allow things that I should not, because there is noone around to point it out to me, what I am doing, this ‘allowing’.

The kettle is whistling for the hot cocoa to be made. Today was a first snow flurry of the season.

There is more delight than I could have foreseen in these teenaged years. Sometimes its just the tiniest moment between the tumults, but man, they are an entire world of glow. a secret look into the snowglobe of the world.

clamor, tumult, snowglobe shake.

i’m doing fine. My most fervent wish is that you are too.



Christmas chickens

Eclipse, evidently. (PLENTY)

Yesterday (Friday now) was stupid, folks. I was swamped with feelings of inadequacy and frankly, jealousy. It is not a good look and not something I carry well. Inadequacy I’m familiar with. Jealousy? No.

Like all of us, a work in progress am I. It was just too much yesterday and I did hit the Walking Dead, and hard.

And then I missed a day of writing, And then another. So now I’m writing on a Monday, after a weekend of plenty. Saturday was The last day of CSA pickup before Thanksgiving and I spun in the luxury of plenty. Literally, as I served the people and packed the cranberries, and figuratively as I packed the foods of a feast to come. I really did. Leeks, Potatoes, Spinach, Butternut! Apples! Sage! Onion! I was still hustling to get stuff ready and I looked at the clock and my day was done. SO MUCH PLENTY! Cornucopias overflowing, my friends.

This Thursday is Thanksgiving in these united states. ha, on that ‘united’ . but i digress and thats a grief that I cannot touch these days.

Thanksgiving is one of my most favorites (because hello gluttony! and stuffing, and then more stuffing and potatoes too, oh my god, and gravy…) but it is directly after the anniversary of my dad’s death which was Sunday, and this will be the second year that there is no extended family plenty for me to host, which is a gigantic and enjoyable distraction that makes me feel centered and well. I LOVE having people that I love in my house, it fills me up all sorts of ways…

Sigh. I tried. I opened the invite to all, but with meager responses and drive and covid risk, its been winnowed down. Less than plenty, but understandable and a day free from driving will give many of my family a different sort of ‘plenty’, so i feel that spaciousness for them.

My grief group that I am supposed to write in was last night, but as it was the actual anniversary, I couldn’t do it. For several reasons. another kind of plenty. the anniversary of my dad’s death is not something I focus on, but am aware of. My siblings are more on top of things in that way and I appreciated the focus they gave me, really.

I did some driving for my mom who was having car troubles, and she could only just say she found it a stressful day. I did not dig but just rolled along, because that is what I do. I can roll.

I may be deflated, but I still roll babies.

So say we all.

I hope you have your own loving, gorgeous Plenty this week, and all the weeks.

Is there anything more ‘barn’ than this? Really?
Color overwhelm of Cranberry
Who knew this girl would be so happy being outside in coldness feeding chickens? Who knew?