Letter to self

I saw this thing yesterday when I was flying back to LA from Tampa.

It was an article about how the world was better before micro-blogging. I think the issue with long-form blogging is it requires discipline and lacks the dopamine hit of scrolling through Instagram. I wish that humans were different.

Like I wish that we had the ability to choose to make only logical, humane choices — and like, really stick with it.


Xmas at my mom’s house was about what I expected. Not amazing, not terrible either. I got my husband to go with me – something he rarely does because Xmas with his family means a lot to him, whereas Xmas for me is mostly a reminder of:

  1. Growing up in Florida – which was a nightmare and should be illegal.
  2. My dad coming to “visit” us for Christmas – which meant getting black-0ut drunk and putting on an improv production of “Who’s Afraid of Virgina Wolfe?” In the front yard for the neighbors.
  3. The gifts being wrong.

Also, my sister and I feel like Melania, ‘Who gives a fuck about Christmas stuff?” Actually, even though I’m a staunch atheist and generally opposed to forced consumerism, I do love decorating for Christmas and I can do that here in LA without the reminders of growing up in Florida, the State of perpetual misery. And yet! This year there was a lot to be happy for. First off, my mom went to a Dr. In Gainsville I had found for her and he treated her Trigeminal Neuralgia with a gamma blade procedure and she is, at least for now, pain free. It was remarkable to see her back to her old self (sort of) after years of chronic pain. See, during the pandemic, and due to the large amounts of medication she was taking, her memory took a hit. She repeats things and can’t remember recent conversations. She’s been to be assessed for dementia and this isn’t that – it’s more of standard aging stuff, but with a bit of a kick from the drugs and isolation of the pandemic. One way that she is back to her old self is, now that it no longer hurts her to speak, (she literally felt pain when she spoke!) she is enjoying her newly returned ability to complain – about everything. First thing after the surgery she complained about the doctor’s bedside manner (who gives a shit if you’re not in unspeakable agony?) then she complained about the bruises the procedure left (bruises that faded!!) now she’s back to complaining about the postal service losing her mail and service fees eating up her Nordstrom’s gift cards. Note to self: must practice daily gratitude.


Anyhow, I did all the cooking and one thing that perhaps is universal about going home is my mother’s collection of delightfully aged dairy products and kitchen staples. 2001 was a very good year for Nutmeg as I discovered. Would you like some six month old milk? Because chere maman most certainly has it. Cooking is an adventure when you never know if you’ll be facing brick-dense scones because of expired baking soda or dealing with full blown botulism from a bulging can of cream of mushroom soup so old it doesn’t even have a bar-code. I had to surreptitiously throw things out because she is very close to having a camera crew from “Hoarders” follow her every move. When the match light charcoal from 2014 failed to light I had to go out to the grill with the crème brûlée torch and individually ignite the briquettes. Astonishingly it worked and I was able to grill some steaks that were frozen around the time the first iPhone debuted. 

 

Is it wildly hypocritical of me to complain about my mother complaining? Yes, but, I try to complain with style and humor whereas my mom just complains. As rationalizations go, that will have to do.

I used to do this years ago here, in OD, a daily list of five things. I can’t promise daily. I don’t write often enough because of the lazy. But here goes.

  1. That my mom is pain free.
  2. That my husband came with me to Florida.
  3. That I went for that walk with my sister in Lettuce Lake Park — and that we went down to the power plant to watch the manatees gather by the hot water outlet in the bay.
  4. My new electric kettle.
  5. The days and days of rain that are due for LA this week.
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January 1, 2023

I think you were hysterically diplomatic. Enjoyed the read. 😎

January 2, 2023

If I am to be honest, I would admit that when I cleaned out my cupboards not too long ago, I found SEVEN cans of baking powder.

Happy New Year to you.