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Anatomy of an Extroverted Introvert
Celebration
I have been such a whirling dervish since T Day, as I now dourly regard November 11, that I scarcely remember my own name. I’ve said yes to every invitation: gone to parties, theater, talks, protests; joined with others in prayer, laughter, dance, resistance, tears. I’ve told myself: This is not the time to stay cozy with Grace and a cauldron on the stove. This is the time to rally with the troops. There’s no one right way to grapple with this new reality, though I disapprove of mindless entertainment since we Netflix-binged ourselves into this regime. My way has been to open my heart. Continue Reading →Celebration
There are many, many advantages to living and working at home alone but one drawback is that, if you cook as frequently as I do, you also have to be your own housekeeper–a role that gets lost in the shuffle of busier weeks (my not-so-subtle acknowledgment that I’ve been quiet so far this November). I’m running to a screening right now but am already feeling disappointed that Mary Poppins or Bewitched’s Samantha won’t be swooping in during my absence to tend to my dirty laundry, dishes (mind). Just once I would like to be able to swing open the door to my apartment and holler: WHO’S RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS MESS? (Grace cannot be trained to do anything except look cute and meow a very vague approximation of “noooo.”)