I. I like blogging on the weekends because it’s quiet in here. Quiet is good when I’m writing from a tender place, and today I’m in a tender place. The following four things are why. Feel free to skip them.
II. Two years ago, I made reservations at the pub down the street, brought cake with their permission, and arranged with the band to have you serenaded. It was a very good night. I remember S saying that she had never seen you happier. She took a picture of us that I sent her a copy of because she loved it so much. Your crinkled up eyes. Your smile. Your delight when the bagpiper came on over and played for you. Do you remember?
III. I’m glad I gave you that day. Despite everything. Remembering it is good.
IV. Today, I’m thinking about you and doing the whole “sending love and healing thing” and I trust that some part of you is feeling it, and even if not, well. I’m feeling it and it feels…
V…well, wistful and sweet and good. So there’s that. I’m making chicken and dumplings in your honour. I’m skipping the Caesars, though, because that would be asking for a case of the vodka induced morbs and I don’t have the bandwidth for that. It’s bad enough that Spotify presented me with this song yesterday (fucking algorithms!), right? Right. So, anyway.
VI. In other news, I spent the first half of the day doing dishes, putting away groceries, formatting content for a thing for Moonshine’s February unit, correcting a mistake in the Darling Human Planner, scheduling the supportive email that will be sent out tomorrow, listening to music (and dancing to some of it so I can get my daily steps in), painting, and nibbling cheese. That’s not a euphemism for anything, by the way. I just really like cheese.
VII. Later, I’ve got Art Winos, and then cards with a friend.
VIII. Numbers are way, way down in London – a fact for which I am incredibly grateful. We’re out of the triple digits, thank the gods, and though we won’t be any kind of “out of the woods” until everyone is vaccinated, I am really feeling hopeful. The nature of mRNA vaccines means there’s true ease in tweaking them to apply to the different variants that are coming on the scene. I really believe we’re going to be okay if we just hang in there, mask up, distance, and wash our hands.
IX. It feels good to feel so goddamned good. Yes, it’s mixed. Yes, there’s a thread of sorrow through it all. Yes, I am feeling all my feels and not just the good ones, but I feel *alive* and that is a huge shift. I’ll take it.
X. All right. Back to painting. Love you.