It’s JUST. I try not to use it, but I still do. Women tend to use it – a lot. It’s a way to soften the edges. To try not to seem too pushy. To diminish our actual wants/needs/requirements.
“Just calling”
“Just following up”
“Just circling back”
“Just wanted to know”
“Just wondering”
Instead of saying what we really mean:
(Please) return my call
(Please) answer my e-mail
(Please) do what you said you would do
(Please) tell me
(Please) keep me informed
Just don’t use Just anymore—-ok? Was that too pushy?
I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fact that people I know–close family members–voted for Trump. That’s it. That’s the grudge. Sadly, it permanently changed how I feel about them.
Given how excited I was feeling about voting for the first woman president (in my pantsuit) on November 8, 2016, it was the Access Hollywood tape that I cannot believe they overlooked in order to pull the lever for Trump. In 2020, it was just everything. I feel like their decision revealed a fundamental difference in values so deep that I never really knew them.
So now we just don’t talk about anything remotely political, but that’s hard. Small talk can be tedious with people you know (or thought you knew) well. It’s a real rift and that’s sad.
My daughter and me in Washington, D.C. on January 21, 2017 after the Women’s March. We’re smiling, but fury was the mood of the day.
I traveled to Russia (then called the Soviet Union or USSR) in January 1987 with a group of students and professors from my college. It was a Winter Break trip. We left just after New Year’s Day 1987. It was led by two professors of Russian History with whom I had taken classes. We went to Moscow and St. Petersburg (then called Leningrad), as well as some smaller cities–Suzdal and Vladimir.
I’m sure it was a fascinating trip, but my main memory is of how cold it was. It was really F***ing COLD.
This is the United Press International archives (UPI.com) report from January 8, 1987:
MOSCOW — An Arctic cold snap with temperatures lower than minus 40 degrees has gripped most of central Russia, slowing life in Moscow to a frozen crawl. The daytime temperature in Moscow is now almost four times colder than the average home freezer. A record low of minus 45 degrees hit Leningrad overnight and Moscow recorded minus 39, close to the 1940 record of minus 44. The official Tass news agency said the first week of January 1987 was the coldest recorded in Moscow in 35 years. Auto traffic in Moscow was virtually non-existent as a frozen mist, triggered by the snow on the ground being warmer than the air, rolled over the city. Ice fishermen tried their luck in the frozen Moscow River, but few others ventured outside unless absolutely necessary.
I remember we were warned to keep every inch of skin covered while we were outdoors so as not to get frostbite. We kept bottles of vodka in our chilly hotel rooms which we slugged for warming purposes (mainly). Other memories include eating coarse brown bread with butter and caviar, the museum-like Moscow subway, and fur hats. We all bought fur hats.
Leningrad in the frozen mist on a frozen river The Moscow MetroOur group playing outside in Vladimir – very briefly!A bit of sun in Suzdal
GenXers will recognize “swimming pools, movie stars” as the last line of the theme song from the Beverly Hillbillies, a TV show that was popular when we were young children. Basically, some poor people find oil on their property in Appalachia, get rich, and move to “Cally-phonia” in a dilapidated truck. It was pretty dumb. The theme song was definitely the best part of the show.
From the Beverly Hillbillies to Downton Abby to the Kardashians, I’ll admit to being fascinated by the lifestyles of the very wealthy, particularly their homes. Honestly, most of them do not look that comfortable. They’re too big. Everything is so spread out. Kim Kardashian is basically living in the Louvre. She has to walk miles just to get to the back of her own closet.
BUT, it would really be cool to have a big swimming pool and a view. Those are the two features I would have, if money were no object.
Here are a few photos from a visit to Newport, Rhode Island in July. We toured Marble House, one of the Gilded Age mansions. And yes, of course I watched “The Gilded Age” on HBO and am eagerly awaiting Season 2 starting on October 29. My husband likes to count the number of times the word “luncheon” is said per episode.
Marble House (Newport) – one of the filming locations for Julian Fellows’ The Gilded AgeMarble House dining room – the very definition of “gilded”Lest you think Mrs. Vanderbilt and her friends didn’t discuss serious things at their luncheons, here are her Women’s Suffrage dishes.
The last thing that brought a tear of joy to my eye was the final scene in the film A Man Called Otto starring Tom Hanks.
The film is based on the book “A Man Called Ove,” by the Swedish writer Fredrik Backman, which I had listened to on tape.
SPOILER ALERT
In the final scene, Otto has died of natural causes (rather than by suicide, which he had been planning) when his neighbor Marisol finds him. She is heartbroken, but finds a note with his final wishes. He has left his home, car, and money to her and her young family. He signs the note Abuelo (grandfather) Otto.
Aw.
The childless grumpy old man, whose heart had turned to stone after the death of his disabled wife (tragically crippled while pregnant years earlier), had found a family in his final years.
It’s the happy and the sad mixed together that tends to get me. The Bittersweet.
These prompts are starting to feel repetitive. Here’s an old post I wrote called Why Blog?
We’ve had so many rainy weekends in New England this summer. It’s great that we’re ending on a high note!
Summers are short, but glorious in New England. I know some people really love autumn, but it does not hold a candle to summer. Winter is horrible (unless you like skiing) and “spring” is not a thing. There’s like one warm day in May (if we’re lucky, it’s Mothers Day).
So here’s to New England in the summer.
The “Farm Coast” – Rhode Island/Massachusetts border Quicksand Pond, RI
A brief interview with my husband (age 61) about the death of Jimmy Buffett at 76.
Question: You’ve awoken to the news that Jimmy Buffett has died at 76. How did it make you feel?
Answer: Surprised
Question: What were your overall feelings about Buffett?
Answer: Not a huge fan, but he was kind of a cultural icon
Question: What made him a cultural icon?
Answer: Parrot Heads [his fans], concerts, and songs that everyone knew
Question: Would you say that he was a uniquely American artist?
Answer: Yes
Question: You’ve now read his obituary in the NYT, what was the biggest surprise?
Answer: That he had a Broadway show. Also, I knew he was rich, but I didn’t know he was that rich. [Buffett’s net worth is estimated to be one billion dollars]
Question: Did you ever know any Parrot Heads?
Answer: Yes, a couple from our old neighborhood – I think they were Parrot Heads. The people that lived nextdoor to Pat. Hawaiian shirts, frozen blender drinks, heading down to Gillette [concert stadium]
Question: What do you think his legacy will be?
Answer: I think it will fade away with his fans (people our age and older)
I’m glad it’s Friday. I work in Boston and things get hectic in late August when all the students move back to the city for the fall semester. We call this time of year “Allston Christmas,” when you can pick up anything from a toaster oven to a Bob Marley poster for free on the curb. Traffic gets MUCH worse. Occasionally, it comes to a complete standstill when some poor parent from the Midwest drives a too-tall rental truck under one of our too-low underpasses and gets stuck. This is called “getting Storrowed” and it happens every year.
Anyway, Labor Day weekend is the calm before the storm—or perhaps it’s the eye of the storm. I liked I.V. Greco’s post about sharing our super moon photos from Wednesday night. It’s so hard to get a good photo of the moon, but I like the sky in this one that I took. Peace.
What daily habit do you do that improves your quality of life?
I joined the masses in completing the daily Wordle during the pandemic. At the time, I had a Twitter account and I may have shared my results (those ubiquitous little green and yellow charts) once or twice on Twitter. One time, I got lucky and got it on the first guess! It was cool knowing that millions of other people were doing the same thing in lockdown. We were all in this together.
Welp, I have since deleted my Twitter account, but I still do the daily Wordle. (Yes, I am a subscriber to The New York Times, which acquired the game, but I think the game is still free to all.) It’s a fun and satisfying way to start the day. One small achievement. If nothing else goes right, at least I got the darn Wordle!
I’m not one of those people who starts with the same word every time, but I do try to pick a word with at least two vowels. Here’s my first guess from today. I got it in three!
“Sasha Obama job 2023” was the last thing I googled. I was wondering what Sasha is up to now that she’s graduated from college. My son will be graduating in May.
This is part of a longstanding habit I have of “low-key comparing” my family to the Obamas.
I believe I developed this habit because Barack Obama was the first President in my very own age group. He was 47 when he got elected in November 2008. Michelle was 44. And their daughters, Malia and Sasha, were 10 and 7. I was 43. My husband was 46. And our kids were 13 and 7. I know that technically Barack is a Baby Boomer, like my husband, but culturally, they’re Generation X.
In addition to admiring them tremendously as a family, I’ve always tended to keep tabs on the Obamas’ milestones. For instance, I was very interested in Barack’s 60th birthday plans and how they were impacted by the pandemic, as I was thinking about my husband’s 60th. I’m sure I’ll be paying close attention to whatever Michelle has to say about turning 60 in January, as I start to think about my own entry into that decade of life. (I’ve read both her books.) Also, I’ll admit to being jealous of her famously toned upper arms. They are my main motivation whenever I decide to pick up my hand weights.
There should be a word for a celebrity or public figure that you relate to because they are part of your generation. They are your “contemporaries,” but you don’t actually know them. Let me know if you think of one.
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