Ok I admit it

I’ve been feeling kind of blue. Sure, change is inevitable, but this is extreme.

I’ve reverted to reading YA novels and baking pies. I’m reminded of the summer I was 11, when I spent a lot of time killing time. Walking slowly along the two lane highway to the 7-11 half a mile away to peruse the Tiger Beat magazines (Ralph Macchio! Ricky Schroeder! Menudo!!) and buy $2 blue Wet n’ Wild nail polish, and Charleston Chews or Tangy Taffy to put in the freezer for later cracking and eating. That summer was all Madonna Borderline and baking cakes from boxes. And waiting. For what? To grow up? For middle School to start? Something to happen.

I’m more sophisticated now. Maybe. But I find that I’m waiting, again. Now it's that so much is happening, it’s like the ocean is churning up all the nasty bits that have been decaying on the sea floor, and everything feels cloudy and dangerous and strange. Things I’ve taken for granted have crumbled away: casual hugs from friends, summer camp for my kids and visiting family out of state, spontaneous dates for drinks or dinners in lovely air-conditioned restaurants, music festivals in the parks, the yoga studio I frequented for almost a decade.

And the store. My store, the familiarity and rhythms, the air and shapes and warm customers. While I continue to be both relieved and certain that I made the right call under the circumstances, its absence is still strange.

I’ve made our Feminist Gold tee in blue, in a very limited run, though with more coming. It’s beautiful. Some in rose are back too, as are the original oatmeal grey, and the charcoal long sleeve is in in all sizes (hooray!) There are some new and beautiful unisex colors too, with limited sizing options. Supply chains and printing are sluggish and uncertain, but coming back online, like the flickering console on the USS Enterprise.

While this strange summer continues to unfurl, while I continue to bake, make masks, and obsessively follow the churning upheaval tearing through the country, I am not losing sight of the election looming ahead of us. I imagine we’ve always said each one is “The Most Important” but this time there’s no fucking around.

99 days. Stay engaged. Find a Senate race that speaks to you and phone bank, send postcards, plug in. When you doubt what your one voice, one person can contribute, look at the damage one man has wrought, and dig in.

Summer reading: I'm looking forward to Zadie Smith’s Intimations, a slim volume of essays, written during the first three months of the pandemic; and thoroughly enjoyed reading Calypso, by David Sedaris, which is not new, but he is funny, frank and unblinking about his own foibles and family in mid-life in such a disarming and inspiring way, it was a joy to spend time with. 

Pie, why not? Stress baking continues to be a fruitful outlet for me (sorry. couldn't help it)

Postcards to Voters, because Stacey Abrams said it really really works.

Fortify yourself by listening to this episode of The Daily on the life and legacy of John Lewis.

Keep on keeping on, because even tho the horses are tired and the riders aren’t sure which way to go, we are still the cavalry.

xoDiana