I have a cold. My colds go chest to throat to nose, and this one is still in the chest stage. Coughing, wheezing. Went to a dance concert last night, played basketball this morning — I’m of the firm opinion that sweating it out is the best thing, though I didn’t have a lot of oomph and played rather badly — and came home exhausted. But the good part is this: checking my book last night to see whether I could cancel anything I had coming up for the next day or so I saw that I have nothing! From now until Tuesday night, when I teach, my schedule is blank. This never happens, and it especially never happens when I’m sick.
So I finished playing basketball, did a little shopping on the way home, took a hot bath, and will be burrowed in here for the next three days. Today I’m not even going to write. I’m going to clean out some files, finish my taxes (I warn you, say nothing), nap, and make chicken soup. And catch up on some reading, and watch the women’s NCAA Final Four while I eat the chicken soup. I’ll write tomorrow and Tuesday, but nothing more ambitious because more files and more napping. Tuesday evening I’ll emerge, all better (or, with a cold in the nose, which is more likely) but somewhat, I hope, de-stressed.
I’ll let you know how it goes.
My staycation partner:
Windy, heavy snow and sleet when I was out this morning, but blizzard? Nah. Still, almost no one down by the river but me. One other photographer, two joggers, and one dogwalker: the big tattooed guy with the four little dachsunds. This is their foot/paw prints in the snow.
And this is the dogwalker with the dogs and the jogger. These are all 8:00 a.m. photos, by the way.
Water taxi dock.
Pier 46 pilaster.
Blue light with snow hat.
It was glorious! You’ve read by now that it was three times the size the organizers had hoped, and that the sister marches were also gigantic, everywhere. (Apparently there were six marches in Alaska!) The energy was electric, joyous, and kind. (At one point I was chanting, “Show me what democracy looks like!” until I started to cough. I muttered, “Show me what a cough drop looks like,” and the total stranger behind me grinned, reached into her pocket, and gave me one.) Also, the energy was funny. The one percent is on their side, but the laughter is on ours. We’ll harness this energy and keep up this fight. My favorite chant: “Welcome to your first day! We will never go away!”
(Photos below by me, Jackie Freimor, and Lorena Vivas.)
Me, my marching buddies, and our pussy hats.
The escalator down into the Metro — AFTER we waited in a half hour line to get to it!
What genius ordered these?
My favorite sign.
Below, more great signs and shirts:
LOVE this one:
And finally, the call to arms:
Cold in the apartment.
Warm in the just-out-of-the-dryer laundry basket.
Early this winter one of my neighbors hung a whole bunch of fake cardinals in a front-yard tree. Yesterday it snowed, and I actually burst out laughing on the street this morning.
In the words of my hero Leonard Cohen, lost in 2016 but still with us in the ways that matter:
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in
I can’t run no more
With that lawless crowd
While the killers in high places
Say their prayers out loud
But they’ve summoned up
And they’re going to hear from me
I wish you all a productive and powerful 2017!
Green swells roll slowly,
Lap up seawall, slide away,
Dotted with raindrops.
Gulls circle, swoop, land.
Cormorant pops up with fish.
Starlings fly above.
Blue lights on railing.
Snow on branches, walkway, grass.
Red life preserver.
Finally, the 2017 Accordion Calendar is here!
Sorry, I had technical issues, which I’m still having, hence the url to copy and not a link to click:
And don’t forget the New York and Assisi calendars, too.
Proceeds to Planned Parenthood.
For your gift-buying pleasure, including, of course, gifts for yourself. They’re not quite all here (kind of like me) — Accordions to come, give me a few days. But
New York City is here
Assisi is here.
And please note: Proceeds this year go to Planned Parenthood. So, buy away!
Well, it’s Thanksgiving. I hope we’re all surrounded by family and friends, allowing ourselves to feel gratitude for what we have and to gather strength from each other for the coming times. I’m grateful, among other things, for all of you. I’m grateful, also, to have a voice, and I intend to use it.