Here is how my 14-year-old dog lets me know he’d like to go outside:
First, he lumbers down off of the bed on his special wooden stairs, which are very noisy. Then, he lingers in the hallway like a chatty neighbor who makes meaningful eye contact until you finally ask how he’s doing.
If boring a hole into me from 10 yards away doesn’t help, he will then start shuffling his feet to ensure I can’t ignore him. He is still staring at me as his little paws tip-tap on the floor. If I’m still unmoved, he will start to…
Today as folks with office-type jobs slid back into their home office chairs, facing a tidal wave of office emails and arbitrary office deadlines, many probably paused to consider the fact that they were still working from home. Their kids got up for “school” in whatever way that manifests — for littles with limited internet access or parents who can’t or aren’t involved in their education, the morning probably wasn’t a lot different than the winter break.
For shift workers, medical care providers, home health care workers, transit operators, and so many others, there’s little distinction between “holidays” and “every…
So you recently heard about the idea of student debt forgiveness and your first reaction was something like disgust, or maybe indignation. You heard that today’s students were just going to be let off the hook like the entitled babies that they are, never having to learn to be responsible. Pfft! You paid your debt! Why can’t they do the same?
To which I would ask, my dude: Why do you care?
But let’s talk about it.
When I was 17 years old, I voluntarily stepped into something like $75k in student debt, which might as well have been seven…
Some time in the early-1990s, I remember reading a bumper sticker out loud to my mother and asking her what it meant.
IF YOU’RE NOT MAD, YOU’RE NOT PAYING ATTENTION
The sticker was fairly worn and we were in Eugene, Oregon, so I assume the owner of the vehicle had probably purchased and placed it in reaction to the decisions and actions of the first President Bush, though I can’t be certain. There were plenty of things to be mad about at that time — which is exactly what my mother told me. …
In video-therapy today (which I almost forgot but then didn’t because while time has no meaning now it is also very much the same!) my therapist asked how I was handling [gestures at everything, from the well-trod grass below to the alarmingly blue skies above]. And I told her that honestly, I’ve been doing ok. Not to brag, but I’m not having a complete mental breakdown right now.
In fact, I have found myself taking the societal changes and the firehose of awful news almost too well. Because, well, life has thrown harder things at me and a lot of…
Recently I was asked about my top policy priorities—what, given a magic wand and no comments section to wither the political will of allies, would I enact? And I gave the same answer that I’ve been giving for several years, which is childcare.
Well, technically, my answer is what I’ve been calling “bookend care” which packages together family leave with stipends, tax credits, and industry incentives for both childcare and eldercare. But that’s another essay entirely.
Anyway, this answer was surprising to the person I was talking to because I am famously a childfree hag whose hobbies include cackling mysteriously…
Ok, boomer, we’ve heard you: Millennials are the worst. We’ve murdered the napkin industry in cold blood. We told Big Dog Food that our precious fur babies deserve more than kibbles or bits. And we’re not giving you grandchildren for selfish reasons like being too broke and also not wanting to bring children onto a planet that doesn’t have enough clean air for everyone.
Sociopaths, all of us.
One of my earliest memories is sitting in the clawed-to-bits (why were they so clawed? Our dog didn’t do it? The world may never know) seats of my mom’s Volkswagen van before preschool as she hunched over my impossibly small fingers. Her hair was spilling over her shoulders, which it always did because it was very long and beautiful and I’m still miffed that I didn’t get that hair from her. She painted each of my fingertips, somewhat recklessly, with the clear nail polish. It burned because I had shredded my nails again, taking bits of skin with them.
I had so many strange questions before I got my tubal salpingectomy and I discussed them pretty openly with the people around me. One night over the holidays I was sitting with my partner and my dad at a bar and were all talking about how interesting and unusual it was.
“So they take out the whole tube?”
“Yes, the whole tube. No Fallopian tubes.”
“Where do….the eggs go?”
“Probably just like, into your body? They’re really small.”
“No, that can’t be right.”
Turns out, it was right. Your body does keep producing ova after the procedure, and they just…
I wrote that one thing you didn’t really agree with. Interests include progressive policy, minor league baseball, and avoiding Zoom calls. Curious to a fault.