Why is this so normal now? Yesterday, when a young Muslim man at Ohio State rammed his car into Pedestrians then started slashing at them with a knife, until the cops shot and killed him — the whole country went ….Meh. You could feel it. Well first maybe a Phew. Then a solid….Meh. The above picture really chills me. Oh, terrorist attack, potential shooter, okay cool, stack the chairs and barricade the door, check texts. Stay calm. Oh, he’s dead? Okay cool.
Let it be known that Cracker, having been raised by a human who is allergic to forced moments, heard the words ‘family picture!!!’ and hid above the refrigator for hours until finally he had to come down for food and then I FORCED THE MOMENT UPON HIM. Him being both of them.
And I sit on the couch watching Hallmark Christmas movies that are bountiful and limitless and appear to be made for approximately nine dollars a piece, and I judge their predictable plots and cheese covered dialogue and tell myself I’m watching them ironically and shout at my husband THIS IS MY VIDEO GAMES but then quietly sob when the commercials come in which nice people do nice things for strangers, and then the sobbing leads me to wonder, am I a Hallmark Christmas movie writer? IS THAT REALLY WHAT I AM? SHOULD I JUST MAKE THESE FOREVER? AND EVER? AND EVER? AND EVER?
Morrison’s aunt, uncle and cousins, the Klanns, live in San Diego and are basically the perfect people to escape to, which we did for Thanksgiving yesterday (and the previous Thanks, too.) It is so cool to accumulate kin. In just this one family alone: A historian! A yoga teacher! A biologist! A visual artist! A DJ! A jovial retired Oil tank manager! A child! A dog! An aunt mom after my own heart who sent me home with rosemary bread and cooking magazines! I HAS CALIFORNIA FAMILY!
I got all kinds of merci today, but I will focus on the fact that Thanksgiving is a forever double happy day, our engagementiversary, and that my husband person likes surprises and making up words JUST AS MUCH AS I DO. Close second: you, for reading. HAPPY THANKS!
Really though, watch the Thanksgiving episode. HE SLAYS.
What is one month? It’s not yet paper or wood or gold. Is it fudge? I say it’s pictures. Not even the kind you can touch, because they aren’t even ready yet, because it’s too new. Just the kind you can look at, digital reminders of what happened, because maybe you have already forgotten, as life has slid softly back into life.
Nail person: what’re you thinking?
Me: Brown! I have a brown in my head.
Nail person: Sounds like a personal problem. Tell me about this brown in your head.
Me: a bright, happy pilgrim brown, crayola marker drawing of house brown, cartoon chocolate or wood or poop. Luminous, optimistic neon brown.
Nail person: That’s not a thing.
Me: I’ll take the disco caramel.
Nail person: it’s called burnt leaf.