Caterwauling

So tRumpy had the worst week ever. Which, the majority of the country has endured on a loop since the first week of November. So you won’t find me playing my teeny-tiny violin anytime soon.

Besides, I gave that shit up in the seventh grade when I mastered “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” Which, given that we’re all singing “Tinkle Tinkle Little Czar; Putin Put You Where You Are,” it would be a fitting final song to play on this democratic Titanic on which our representatives of both major parties are valiantly rearranging the chairs.

In any event, here are my blessings that don’t include James Comey screwing tRumpy this week almost as bad as he f’ed Hillary …

(Got this shirt in D.C. back before Comey’s little October surprise.)

1. Had Sunday brunch with a dear friend from the West Coast whom I met when we lived in Alexandria, Va.  It’s like 13 minutes elapsed between visits, rather than 13 years.  

2. Got a great new, old addition to our work team. Super-excited about this one. Grateful beyond belief. Hoping it’s a long, prosperous relationship (again).

3. I got a day off! And got to see the Nats on Thursday!

Unfortunately, it was pouring halfway through. So we left early. But still, DAY OFF!

Plus I got a cool shirt that I love.

And some pics of Calvin Coolidge, which was my grandfather’s name too. It’s like he was there with us!

And I got an early-bird dinner at a great restaurant nearby. And it was good, unlike most meals I overpay for. I win Thursday.

Dude. Funnel cake. And my Nats keychain. 

4. I could have had tickets to see the Nats Friday. But great editorial had to prevail. And it did. I ain’t mad at that. Would rather shape/publish things I’m proud of than relax. (Not that there was any relaxing to follow it, unfortunately. But, details.)

5. Had Bloody Marys on the beach when a favorite former/current colleague. Well I had all the vodka. But still. Sushi and stimulating seaside conversation is the way to spend a Saturday. 

6. I stopped at a store to buy suntan lotion. And ran into a friend who recently had a baby. I was over the moon. Another colleague/friend with her mom and child. I took a couple pics for mom because she’d kick me ass if I didn’t. What a good day in my world. 

7. I did get back to the ballpark today. Gorgeous, breezy, sunny day.

Got to wear my new shirt.

They had a 50%-off spring training merch sale. Which was kind of annoying because all the Nats stuff was sold out and only Houston Astros wear was available. 

Although Screech was tossing out tons of shirts …?

They had some cute and sparkly Astros shirts that I liked, but I’m a Nats girl all the way.

Mom wondered why we never took Grampy to a Pirates game.

I think he was there at all the games we’ve seen in DC and WPB. And not as a giant president. I also think he’s ok that I give mom the experiences I didn’t have the time or money to give to him.  But damn, we miss him. 

With mom’s poor health, I didn’t want to wait till next year to do this. It cost a ton for me. But we ate well and got sun and saw good-looking men everywhere. What a treat, truly. 

I hope we can go to Bradenton next year. But i will be quite ok if I get back to the Ballpark of the Palm Beaches. No doubt. We saw the Mets and Astros. Maybe we will catch the Yankees or Marlins next year. 

How blessed I am to have the brand-new Nats spring training facility right in my backyard, so I could be part of the spring one. 

I am over the moon that I could see Ryan Zimmerman and Bryce Harper and Jason Werth in my last hometown and in my new one too. 

The people who work in the park are so nice. Most are from the DMV area. My favorite bartender is taking the AutoTrain home next week and will work the regular season with the Nats. 

In any event, it was a good week to be Goddess and a great week to be a Nats fan. I hope I am lucky enough to see the boys of spring again next year. And have plenty of planned and chance meetings with old friends along the way. 

I got a day off yesterday. I swear, someone should make a meme of that along the lines of the “I pooped today!” one.

Although I feel like I get more of the former than the latter. And I don’t get many of those either.

I got to thinking about when I started this job, how I knew all and did all and felt like a true source of expertise.

Not sure what has happened, but I was realizing yesterday as I was checking my phone because even though I told everyone I’d be out, no one listened, that I seem to have gone from leader to maternal figure. The meals get cooked. The litterbox gets scooped. There are paper towels and toilet paper and toilet bowl thingies. And worky things happen too that no one else has to worry about. But no one notices until momma is taking a day for herself, if even then.

Never once have I left a job where folks didn’t come back and say, “I had no idea you were doing that till it didn’t get done anymore.” I guess I always assume everyone heard me the first time when I said something. Of course, when cuts come around, that’s a dangerous assumption to make.

Missed an opportunity to speak up.

I recognized it. I told myself not to miss it. And then I clammed up.

Thought about a wonderful lunch I had with an old D.C. friend yesterday. God how nice to connect with someone from the same background (District denizen, publishing, intellectual, political, Florida transplant).

We spoke of how publishing is dead. He’s since left the biz because he demanded more and wasn’t getting it where he wanted it from. So he got it (money) somewhere else.

I said I didn’t think I could fall out of love with it. And that’s fine. But that doesn’t mean it will stay in love with me.

If ever it even was. Especially when I demand nothing from it because it supposedly has so little left to give right now.

I suggested a hire and we hired that person and OMG dream team.

Yes, I know. The giant meteor is on its way. But allow me to enjoy this rare moment in time of having a complete team that rocks.

Thank you, universe.

I’ll duck now …

Is a city. 

One I left eight years ago this month. 

This WaPo love letter wasn’t by me. But it could have been.  

D.C. is one of the few places in America where a keen interest in civics isn’t mocked, it’s celebrated. You see that quirky passion when your friends cram into your rowhouse to watch debates and make a presidential bingo scorecard. You can sit down to a casual lunch and strike up a conversation about women in the military with the two-star general sitting next to you. For a girls’ night out, you might suggest lining up to listen to Madeleine Albright speak at a think tank. When your college friends reminisce about their days tailgating, you’ll remember when your friends celebrated decisions on the steps of the Supreme Court and election outcomes in Lafayette Square.

As if having an asshole who wears a taped-up Commie-red tie splitting his time between my old neighborhood and my new one weren’t enough …

The person (using that phrase loosely) who makes Steve Bannon seem like the Sultan of Sunshine in comparison to said person (and I ain’t talkin’ about Trumpy in this graf) is also moving to my hood.

Seriously, universe. You keep making me long for the dumpster fire that was 2016.

Time to enter Witness Protection … again.

Or just burn down the entire state. Whichever.

I hear the company is hosting the goodbye party after the departure. So, the universe is turning as it should.

Been arriving at work earlier than usual to try to get stuff done before phone calls. And working at night to try to get stuff done after phone calls.

It hasn’t been going well. Working on a project for a half hour here and there is pretty much the textbook definition of wasting oodles of time.

I notice things when I’m up early. There’s a neighborhood Calico who comes to my window to say hi, but only when Mom is around. (No one else.) I have food for her in my desk. (Thanks to Mom.)

We have condos next door and she looks like someone loves her. But I will never pass up an opportunity to feed anyone or anything. (Not the least of which is myself.)

One morning this week, I noticed a single purple flower on one of our bushes. It was so beautiful, I had to stop and marvel. There wasn’t another one anywhere.

I thought I should take a photo, and figured I’d do it on my next Starbucks run.

Well I went out later and saw that one of the boys had knocked it to the ground.

So much for that.

Kind of like when Mom comes in and mops and cleans the windows and the bathroom. It only takes two hours till I want to throttle someone for disturbing the perfection.

I feel like the flower is a metaphor for something. What, I have no idea. But when I get two seconds to rub together, hopefully it will start a thought fire.