Inside and Out

Last night's sunset looked like a scene from a disaster movie. Empty streets. Blood red sky.

But inside on the kitchen island there are tulips because I pre-ordered and pre-paid for them at the neighborhood farmers' market and simply had to sweep by and scoop up the wrapper with my name on it.

This is the not close-up version with the kitchen island devoted to making hand-marbled paper book covers. I think I will post a picture soon of all the journals I've made. I think of them as Corona diaries. If you want one, you can private message me, saying which one. Some are very tiny, and I imagine them as "It's the little things" records of what has gotten you through this so far....or what is destroying you. Of course as much as I would like to send these things I've made to you, it means I have to go to the post office. Sigh. (see previous post) I hope to have the full array displayed in the next blog post.

My anxiety is better today. (How's yours?) Probably because I have not put on a mask in an attempt to go out. I had a lovely chat with a friend today wherein I explained that having been nearly strangled to death by an acquaintance decades ago, I don't do well with my mouth and nose covered, or the feeling that my air supply is restricted.

A couple of days ago as I was talking on the phone with my younger daughter M., I was describing to her the shape of the plant stand I wanted for my balcony (plants are super important to me right now) and she emailed me a photo of one from Target which turned out to be perfect. I ordered it online and it arrived in our building's package room a day later. I was going to live the big city life--one token plant on the balcony. Now I want more, more, more.

There's so much to do in any given day. How was your day? xo

It's Not All Sunsets and Sea Glass: Post-Debate Thoughts

I'm trying to remember if I smiled the night my assaulter held his hands around my neck, pinning me  against the front seat of my car for close to an hour. I cajoled, to be sure. "I'm married," I told this acquaintance who followed me out of the party, ostensively walking me to my car. "You don't want to do this," I said. I talked non-stop except for the moments when his grip on my neck grew tighter. But I don't think I smiled.
I didn't want Hilary to smile during the debate. Every time she smiled I thought about how women are expected to look pleasant and pretty in the public eye. I thought about how women smile to defuse aggression. I am an unabashed Hilary supporter. I don't want a wall. I don't want Muslims to be barred from the U.S. I don't want to scrap the Affordable Care Act and start over. I don't want women to continue to crawl along without an Equal Rights Amendment. But I don't want Hilary to smile.
Trump behaved like a stalker during the debate. Standing behind her. Threatening to throw her in jail. Pacing around her with his hands in his pockets. And I hated the final moment when they approached one another for that final handshake. He put his hand behind her, appearing to touch her  in the small of her back. I interpreted that as a show of aggression.
And while never having been a conspiracy theorist of any kind, I wouldn't be surprised if the Trump campaign itself released the trash-talking bus video. The message: Watch out. I'm an aggressor. I will dominate you.
Our society is fucked up when it comes to gender equality. Women have have the vote for more than hundred years. Yet we are the last to the party, among all the developed countries in the world, for maternal leave and health care policies that protect women and children, We are expected to do it all and that's impossible.
"I want you to come home with me," my assaulter said over and over again. I had a half-dozen reasons why that couldn't/shouldn't happen. I kept repeating them. When he finally got off me and stood up, I yanked my car door shut and drove home. I was drenched in sweat by then. That 's the way I felt by the end of tonight's debate.
I want Hilary to stop smiling. We don't have to please anyone. We just have to stand up.