Archive | Cat Lady Matters

Schmalentines Liberation 2018

I am beyond cool with the fact that this leggy supermodel is my most constant valentine. She is coated in the softest stripiest fur, purrs rather than barks (more than I can say for my human loves), never steals the covers, has the tiniest emotional carbon imprint , and thinks everything I write is the bees knees. Sure, I spent the day debunking the capitalist myth of romantic love for an essay on the second-wave legacy of The Feminine Mystique, and that felt pretty durned good. So did the two episodes of Broad City I just inhaled with two shots of tequila. But my point—and I do have one, to quote the great Ellen DeGeneres—is that love is love is love, and I’m grateful to experience it in so many ways in this life. I wish you oodles of love as well.

Solar Returned to the Mermaid Woods

Tomorrow is technically my birthday but astrologically today is my solar return. I always tell my clients: What you do on your birthday sets the tone for your year so only do what feels really really right. On this, my 47th return, I knew, I just knew, that I had to be back in the mermaid woods since I want to be here as much as possible in the upcoming year and all the years after that. So I drove all day to arrive at Provincetown’s Lands End Inn, all soaring ceilings and bold pastel stained glass and Mucha and Erté reproductions and busts of beautiful ladies, with decks and porches overlooking seemingly the whole mermaid world. The building is at the very edge of the continent (hence the name), and I’m wearing one of those lush hotel robes with all the windows open, smelling the salt and wind and wood-burning stoves of the area. I ate very fresh oysters a few hours ago with new friends and now am drinking champagne in a red velvet chair listening to the fire crackle and the wind rustle and the waves crash and am writing to you before I open my book back up. Because that’s how I want my next year to be. The sweet semisolitude of my adulthood, garnished by Venus and the words that somehow always pour through me even when I’m tired, even when I’m sad, even when I’m not sure anyone is there to receive them. Sending my birthday light to each of you because I’m glad we’re all still here.

The House of Sunshine Compensation

Today is what they’re calling a bomb cyclone–a hurricane-cum-snow and ice storm made possible by our brand new climate. Outside the heavens rage, but I did my due diligence and am prepared for their wrath. Bagels and cat food sit pretty on the counter, produce and protein line the refrigerator, house is scrubbed clean. I have books and notebooks and candles stacked by my armchair, whiskey and a tumbler by the turntable, a kitten at my feet. But it’s into the kitchen that I putter as the world blurs white and lights flash off and on.

I may be old-fashioned, but I prefer my kitchen to be devoid of electricity anyway. I keep the lights off during the day, and eschew unnecessary gadgets, including toasters, food processors, and juicers. Eating and cooking is one way we still connect to the cycle of life, and I like to feel all the unadulterated core elements- earth, sun, water, fire–as I step into that flow. This morning the world is furious, and I am glad to know. I squeeze sunshine into a glass and dream of warmer days.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy