Yesterday I participated in a Zoom. I find them exhausting as I try to focus on the speaker, yet cannot help but analyze my own face during conversation. Am I always so animated? Is it annoying? Does it seem insincere? Just what is going on with my forehead? Remembering the purpose of the meeting, I return focus to where it belongs. No one should be able to hover in front of their own face during a conversation, meta-analyzing themselves. It must affect the quality of these virtual interactions.Continue reading Time, the Prankster God
My dog has a nemesis, a stupid fat squirrel I’ve nicknamed Dumbo. Dumbo wants nothing more than to enjoy the seeds in our birdfeeder. Not content to roll around like Scrooge McDuck in the seeds that blanket the ground beneath the feeder, Dumbo tries to get into the bird feeder via the tree to which it is attached, scurry along the post, defeat the squirrel baffle, and eat from the feeder.
Dumbo is rarely successful, but he sure is committed and determined, if not oafish and stubborn.
It’s a few days late for this month in review, but what does time even mean anymore? July is the weekend of summer. Even now, especially now, July feels etched in my memory both dabbed in watercolor, hazy and sprawling and drawn with Sharpie, angular and indelible.
July was a time of online camps for my kids, and of trying to find outdoor activities that don’t give me the heebie-jeebies or put me on high alert. It was a time for creative celebrations of July 4, long leisurely meals on the deck, and regularly going out to watch the sunset in all its glory. These all sound a lot better right now than they actually were at the time.
Like many of you, my greatest preoccupation in July was in making difficult decisions about the kids returning to school, and supporting the same decisions as they are made, wrenchingly and with absolutely no sense of ease, by my friends for their own children and/or for their own careers.