Solstice

 I want to live here; I can't.  I bore myself.

My Brother Got Married!

 Miscellany:

1) COVID makes weddings even more awkward.  

2) My brother is an adult.  I'm not quite sure I can get my brain around that.  And his wife is an adult, too. I envy them their earnestness, and their prowess at home maintenance.

3) I have now brought a potty to a wedding.  Bucket list?  Literally?

4) No one can hear your heartfelt sentiments unless you project. 

5) Swings are fun for kids.  A lot of fun.  Like, I wish something were that fun for me.

6) There's only so much time you can spend cheerfully outdoors in the middle of summer.

7) Wedding cake is never as good as it should be.

Wednesday Update

 I am here to report that the slightly nicer cookie sheets are, in fact, slightly nicer.  One of the things have been slowly learning in adulthood is that you don't always have to stop at what sort of works.  I mean, sometimes you know, but it doesn't have to be your default.  It is possible, and permissible, to shoot for something more than minimal function.

This is a tough one for me.  My parents' bookshelves were literally made of bricks and two-by-fours well into their forties.  For a long time, their mattress was on the floor.  They bought used cars, always.  

If it functioned, it would do. Some lessons begin so early, and are so implicit, that you don't even realize you're learning them.  

They are thicker, the slightly nicer cookie sheets. They bake a bit more evenly.  There's no rust.

2021

It's already past the halfway mark of 2021 and I haven't written a word.  I believe this to be a symptom of how words are beginning to slink away from me. Which is sad, but the kind of sad for which there is no recourse.  Stage Four sad, metastasized.

Meanwhile I am balanced on the knife's edge of happy.

By which I mean, I have much to be grateful for, and am able to experience that gratitude without flinching My work is engaging, and I am very good at it.  I control my own schedule.  My kids are ferociously alive.  I bought the slightly nicer cookie sheets.

But there is always a drop, and it is always only a few atoms away.  We are none of us allotted unalloyed joy.