As Sundays go, it was a pretty contented, domestic one, despite May snowflakes and Saturday's momentary hail. For years in make-do jobs, I often wondered whether Sunday's melancholy was intrinsic, or if it would assume a different character without Monday's work looming overhead, with its email backlog and sludge of meetings***. Well, I'm here to report that, yes there DOES seem to be a pleasantly mild, abiding sadness, but why?
Gingerbread pancakes started the day off nicely, paired with the afterglow of seeing Javier bask in his directorial success at the DIA the night before****. I carried Oyo across the street to see my family-friends in the neighborhood; and then we briskly surveyed the Yourist Spring Pottery sale tent. We followed artist Stephen Kerr inside Yourist, duckling-style, as he's
|similar. from Lakeside Pottery|
|...but not knitting for soldiers. from mylearning|
*as they say, when they wish to convey gravitas to something potentially unpleasant and resented. As with the entire rest of the human race, neither of us really feel we should be the age we are, even though I get carded tons less, "ma'amed" by either clueless young men (just don't address this, unless you're Southern; I get "miss"ed by the same demographic, which also makes me want to slap you; but since I won't slap you, I'll just tip you less) or male idiots who are approximately my age (you should totally, utterly know better; don't spread your paternalistic passive aggressiveness my way because you're not comfortable waiting on me; I wouldn't look down on you, except: now I do) *SECOND NOTE TO THE ASTERISK --he's older and also damn more accomplished. but to say that would be setting the wrong dynamic between us, right? But seriously, he has been following his passion with a passion for basically his entire adult life -- and he's talented -- so, yes, he's most definitely more accomplished.
**And, you know, fix everything about myself before Oyo stops being astounded by my poor whistling (like a bird!!!) and ceases to check in with me from across the room ("Hahaha,"...I mean, is this all cool Mom? This person is picking me up and knows that my feet are ticklish, is this okay?...Okay") and starts understanding terms like "self-thwarting."
***my favorite corporate culture video ever, Conference Call in Real Life and more, recently, Carrie Brownstein's New Yorker piece on eliminating conference calls
**** A/k/a Rick Sperling, Mosaic Youth Theater of Detroit's newest "Midsummer Soulstice," which is really, really fantastic, my bias aside. Seriously talented and professional young artists. Isn't it lovely when you can stop and enjoy what a dear one has wrought, through vision and will? Which, again, is not to give credit solely to one person for the success of an entire play -- this only comes to pass through dedicated and impassioned staff; and dedicated, talented actors. So much hard work, for something to potentially exist for a few nights! But like grows like, right? An impressive display of talent, paired with a sense of command, inspires further pursuit of talent. Thank goodness for the ripple effect, wherever you find it.
*****Odd to sip tea accompanied by an extended bout of gnawing via the baby monitor; the crib rail now has dented spots free of shellack, ohhhh industrious Beaver Baby.