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Seasons grievings

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Woof. This year. This whole goddamn year. As it draws to a close, I’ve been thinking a lot about what we’ve been through, all of us. Our collective trauma. And what we’ve lost. It’s been a lot. We’ve lost and grieved A LOT. Seriously, there’s more grief in here than even Elizabeth Kübler-Ross could have imagined. The year started off okay enough for me. I had my blackeyed peas, courtesy of a friend who is a wonderful Southern cook. As he always says, “Imagine how bad the year might’ve been if we didn’t have them,” and I’ve tried to take that to heart. Because, if 2020 is any indication, it seems that things really could always get worse. If I’m being honest, January and February weren’t half bad. We had a great trip to L.A. and San Francisco, which was a lot of fun. And then . . . the wheels fell off in March. And for that I am grieving.  In March, I was on travel for work -- a planning retreat with my department’s leadership team. We looked ahead to expanding our team, broadening ...
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Drink Up!

There are few things that bring Washingtonians more glee that heaping insults upon the much-maligned Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority ( WMATA ).  I've certainly done my fair share of it.  Today's as good as any, too, with temperatures soaring into the triple digits and the " heat kink " causing delays on Red Line tracks.  Needless to say, rush hour commutes were snarled with long waits on overheated platforms.  And what better way to keep yourself entertained than by playing along to a snarky little WMATA Drinking Game*?  My friend the Policy Lawyer and I came up with this little gem over the course of a few days last week.  See if you can find your favorite Metro faux pas listed below: One  drink for tourists who stand on the left of the escalator; two  drinks for escalator disruptions; and finish your drink if the escalator stops while you're on it. One  drink for someone singing; two if they're not wearing headphones. ...
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Thank you for being a friend

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If I’m being honest, I’m not okay. We’re at nearly a year since this thing started, and though the end is in sight, it’s unclear when exactly that might be. I miss my friends. I miss my friends so much. Sure, we’ve had video chats. We have the group texts. We’re staying as connected as we can, even without being in the same room. But it is fucking hard. And it is not the same. My very best friends, my girls, have been my lifeblood, in some way or another, for as long I have a memory. We haven’t been all in the same room together since 2015. And, even though we live in different places, and have for some time, and might not even have seen each other in person anyway absent the pandemic, we could have. The past year apart (from them and nearly everyone else) feels so very hard. So very lonely. So very inhumane. And so it has come to pass that I have adopted a network of surrogates. Blanche, Dorothy, Rose, and Sophia. Will, Grace, Jack, and Karen. Khadijah, Regine, Max, and Synclaire. Gr...
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