Wandering Around Listless in a Primal Scream State at the One-Year Anniversary of Pandemic

I snuck in one last flight last year around this time for an out-and-back trip to Los Angeles for a meeting. It was sunny and gorgeous in LA and dark and dreary in Portland. The flights were already basically empty. 

And that was it. 

I am now wandering around listlessly in a pandemic purgatory dream state.

***

I do not care about the history of Daylight Savings Time. I just want it to stop. That’s never been more clear than at the one year anniversary of pandemic. I’m sad for seemingly no reason, and I’ve been talking with friends who are feeling the same way. 

My internet was acting up yesterday right before a video call. I texted my kick-ass client Sarah to ask if she might be able to run the meeting if I disappeared into the nothingness of physical life. She responded with what will become my motto for 2021: “I can assert that I’m not in a mental headspace to lead this ship.”

***

Some days are too much. And some days are too much and they also steal an hour from you. It’s not that anything catastrophic happened on Sunday after the construct of Daylight Savings Time snatched away 60 minutes, it’s that each thing piled up to leave me crying in the kitchen at 9:00pm wondering how to dry dishes. 

It started this way.

My grandmother, who shall never know that her existence has been mentioned here on the blog because we are never going to tell her because she hates the idea of things on the internet, has been getting hundreds of spam text messages. She is 87-years-young and she’s a voracious texter, and she loves it when we text her photos of the great-grandchildren. She doesn’t know not to respond to stupid spam texts. So she says things like “Stop” or “Your grandma loves you,” which encourages more texts and now she’s being invited by the dozen to view sites like findamilf.com and raunchysingles.com. Sites she would totally love, of course, it’s just that now it’s hard to find the family members she likes to text amidst all these delightful invitations. And she accidentally pinned all the spam numbers to her favorites in what ostensibly was a fit of frustrated right swiping. 

So the Fairy Pig and I swung by with a box of Girl Scout cookies and an invitation to walk over to get a cappuccino, where we could all sit outside, socially distanced in the rain, to try to solve this phone situation. Spoiler alert: just get the TextKiller or SMS Filter apps. Verizon can’t do anything. But after a very long time which included me taking a five-year-old to the bathroom in a strange place while chatting with the phone company, my customer service helper did suggest those. Totally worth the hour on the phone to freeze your poor grandma’s bones off in the rain. 

And then the series of little things just piled on…

I got home to cook, and as I washed my rice before cooking, bunches of little weevil bodies floated to the top.

I googled, “my rice has bugs can I eat it.” Yes, just wash them out. So then I washed my rice like 100 more times and then looked through the pantry to figure out if the weevils had friends.

Then I remembered it was jury duty for me on Monday, and I was supposed to call to find out if I needed to report. The automated system told me it couldn’t recognize me or find my number. I decided Captcha has been right all along. I probably am a robot. 

Then we put the kids down after tons of little fights–the kind of fights where people say cutting things to each other but it never really comes to full-out meltdowns, your sanity just dies slowly over the course of a few hours.

Then I stubbed my toe on the wave board that had been left in the middle of the kitchen and suddenly it was 9:00pm, because an hour had been snatched out of my little hands.

***

Here we are on Friday. Jury duty, it turns out, had been canceled. Monday, I got to go for a long drive, which allowed me to ponder whether my own screams could give me a headache–cars being basically soundproof isolation chambers, when you have the chance to be in one by yourself.

The week just kept coming with its slow churn of sadness. Not deep, dark sadness, just rainy and mundane sadness and emotional fatigue. 

So if you all are feeling it, I see you. And for those of you who have already shared or affirmed your own grief or sadness that seems to have sort of come out of nowhere, thank you.

This Metaphor Revolves Around Leg Hair

I don’t shave my legs. It’s not that I have translucent leg hair that serves only to give my calves an extra glow. I have loads of dark brown hair. But in the last couple years I’ve cared less and less about shaving, even during the summer. That’s not to say I’m giving up on myself or letting myself go or throwing in the towel or whatever people say. I’m quite fashionable. Here I am in bespoke Jeff Boothe jeans. 

Jeff Boothe pants and painting: double bonus points.

Shaving and level-of-fashion-sense and sexiness are not tied together. I have lots of other things I want to do besides shave my legs. Plus I want to save that extra shower water for the hot bath I take almost every night that does much more for my well being. 

But the other night I felt like I wanted to start fresh in 2021 and shave my legs. So I got out my husband’s electric razor. Is that what it’s called? Let’s call it the Fuzz Remover. It makes a satisfying ZHUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ noise. Right leg, ZHUZZZZZZZZZZ, done. Left leg, going great. Then ZHUZZ UZZZ UZZ… It started slowing down. The Fuzz Remover was like, “Lady, this is toooo much for me! You have so much leg hair. I just. UZZ. can’t. UZ. handle. Z. it.” 

And it died. 

And I was left with a dark brown mohawk and some ankle patches down my left leg. I really willed the Fuzz Remover to keep going and it gave a valiant effort. But it died. And now I’m left with a really weird coronavirus leg styling. 

And it got me thinking. This is very much like my parenting. 

I’m a very good parent. I also (and in a not mutually exclusive kind of way) have a LOT of parenting challenges, because parenting is quite difficult. And I find myself very broken up about it sometimes. Many times. 

As a writer I focus a lot on the part of parenting where the energy runs out and it’s a mess. That’s what I share with you. It’s like we’re friends walking down the street and I pull up my pant leg in public and show you my weird mohawk leg hair. 

A lot of people like to stay covered in public in winter. They like to wear clothes that make them look good, and even add makeup. (As do I, but we’re in a metaphor about leg hair here.) It makes a lot of sense to put on mostly the great stuff and share the socially acceptable stuff.  

Sort of early on in parenting I realized I was a real mixed bag. And I also now realize that sometimes people think I’m a mess, kind of like it’s a static thing. Like the original Voodoo Donut is on 2nd and Ash. It’s a thing. Google will tell you. But unlike that fun and obvious fact about donuts, I’m more of a dynamic ball of neon, glittery slime that’s rarely in the same place. 

So I guess this is a manifest eleven years down the road. I post a lot of look-behind-the-curtain content because not everyone feels comfortable sharing the most anxiety-producing and personal and embarrassing parts of parenting, but a lot of people feel solidarity. The parenting anger and the exhaustion and the screaming into the void or in the house, the need to get help and deal with your mental health like it’s about to knock you out cold if you don’t. I don’t write about everything. I protect myself in some places. But I do lift up my pant leg quite a bit.

I very seldom desire advice. I want to be seen and I want you to feel comfort and companionship because of it. I realize that the highlight reels of social media aren’t the full picture of anyone’s parenting, but that it’s important to be able to put out the beautiful and proud moments because we need those badges of honor because the work is so hard. So I (and plenty of other writers, too) am here to overshare, possibly so that you don’t have to, and often so that I can be heard.

And I apologize if I’ve not reacted great when you’ve shared something delightful that happened in your parenting. Sometimes I haven’t seen your challenges so it makes it hard for me to be rah-rah about your awesomeness. But that’s me and my deal.

For those of you whom I’ve interacted with over DMs, I love you, and I treasure our conversations. To my commenters, I adore you. You fill me with warm fuzzies. And to all of you who share about your own struggles in ways that are somewhat public and very vulnerable, you kick some serious ass.

Jeff Boothe is an amazing Portland artist. I am in love with how he is so joyful with color and movement and I’m so lucky to have two pairs of his pants (although you have GOT to see his paintings). Follow him on Instagram. DM him about paintings and clothes that cover up your leg hair. xoxo

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things for 2021

This summer a package from Delightful Bloom came with a little tin of lotion that smells like it’s packed with two dozen roses. My friend María had sent me a care package! That was pure joy. So in the spirit of joy, small business, women entrepreneurs, businesses owned by people of color, sustainable brands, and really kick-ass stuff, here’s my sharing of love for some amazing things and creators.  

Amid the dumpster fire of last year, some amazing small bizzes run by women, and women of color in particular, brought rainbows.

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Evelyn’s Favorite Things for 2021*

Skin and Self-Love

Delightful Bloom – OMG the Rose Lotion

Cheekbone Beauty – the 3-pack Sustain lipstick bundle is a hell YES

Focus Self Care – can’t wait for the body butter

Queen of Hearts – CBD gummies, please

Clothes

Nooworks – 2020 Knife Suit

Martine’s Dream – makes me feel like one day I can live in pantsuits and beautiful dresses

B.Yellowtail – still lusting after this shop

Lauren Good Day – my eyes can’t take the gorgeous colors

Food

El Rincon – carne asada, get it when you’re in Hood River

Good Medicine Tea – the herbal chais!

Elegant Elephant Baking Company – gluten-free deliciousness

Podcasts

Why Won’t You Date Me? – now Nicole only interviews people of color & it’s awesome

In the Thick – my go-to news analysis

Stoopkid Stories – the kids and I love these stories

Smash, Boom, Best – K-Pants’ favorite

Shows & Movies

Woke – Nicole and Sasheer together?! And Nicole as a cartoon voice?! (Hulu)

Ramy (Hulu)

Dear White People (Netflix)

The Weekend (Netflix)

Jumping the Broom (Amazon)

Sam Jay: 3 in the Morning (Netflix)

Sex Education (Netflix)

Atypical (Netflix)

Alaska Wildlife Rescue (Disney+, National Geographic) – my sis is a videographer on it and my kids LOVE this show

*In the spirit of maybe writing more than one blog post in 2021, I’m keeping explanations short and staying focused on pushing “Publish.” Hearts. Rainbows. Here’s to 2021.

As We Gently Nudge the Facebook Cats

[This post is for my white friends. We are learning together. This time of convulsion is overwhelming and energizing, wrenching and combative. We are lucky to be here. These are the swells of change and we are doing it together. I’m always open for your thoughts.]

I was talking with a friend who is white today and she was disheartened. “So that was it? One week?” She was talking about her white friends’ Facebook feeds. It appeared to her that the solidarity with Black lives was basically over. I didn’t think that was the case, but I went on for my nightly scroll around and the cats and the pasta and the golf and the birthdays were everywhere. Those are all important things. New pets, a child’s birthday in pandemic, a bit of joy in a really challenging time. We need breaks. We need space. We need comfort and rejuvenation and affirmation in not normal times.

I want to gently nudge us to get back to it—to dismantling racism within ourselves and within our schools, neighborhoods, cities… I’d like to offer this space below for you to share what you’re thinking and what you’re learning. Maybe this feels like a great awakening and it’s too much of a change to post about it all the time. Maybe you are depressed seeing immense pain now that you didn’t see before. Maybe the internal work you’re doing is shocking and exhausting. Maybe you are afraid of making mistakes and saying the wrong things because you’ll be called out by people both more radical and more conservative.

And still, I gently nudge you to get back to it—to being uncomfortable and talking about it. You may gently nudge me back, too.

Right now I’m reading “Me and White Supremacy” by Layla F. Saad. She asks you to have a journal as a companion and write in it with each set of reflection questions. I decided I would reflect in my head. I don’t like to handwrite things. On one of the most recent lessons, she wrote to me directly on the page about white exceptionalism, “White exceptionalism is the little voice that convinces you that… because you have an intellectual understanding of the concepts being presented here, you do not have to diligently write out your responses to questions. That you can just think about it in your mind, and that is enough.”

It’s time to get out the journal because the journey is still beginning and it’s mostly inside me. Have you Googled about what defunding the police means, sat with your discomfort and questions about it, read about it from the Black activist’s lens? Are you in on what the Black wealth gap is about and how to fix it? We feel safe with police; We think reform is enough–why do we think these things?

“White exceptionalism is what convinces you that you don’t really need to do the work. That you are doing it because it is a commendable thing to do but that you do not have to dig as deep as you are being asked to go.”

We are being asked to go deep. The lives of our non-white friends and peers depend on it. And we will be more free ourselves.

Two upcoming dates to think on:

June 19 – Juneteenth. If you don’t know it, Google it. I only learned about it last year because 1) racism & historical erasure, and 2) lack of internal work.

June 20 – Poor People’s Campaign Mass Poor People’s Assembly.