This country needs more culture. And intelligence. Starting with this county.

April 16th, 2017, 8:11 AM by Goddess

I am sitting in a hotel lobby in a county that went largely for Trump. They have Fox News on the teevee because they cater to these types, I guess.

I’m seeing coverage of the Tax Marches and am very proud of my fellow resistors. Forrest Trump is a proven liar and cheat, yet the people around me are quietly saying how dumb the marches are.

I had to move away from the TV because my blood was boiling at the on-air idiots going from pooh-poohing the marchers who want transparency to applauding Forrest Trump’s decision to hide White House visitor logs. Jesus Christ. Trumpy is off being a fake Christian at “his” church — he isn’t even watching his favorite propaganda station right now!

In any event, this triggered my memory. I was in a store yesterday and we could hear loud salsa music. Folks started chattering that there was a “Spanish event” on the next block. I said oh, cool, like a food festival or a parade? The girl in front of me said she wasn’t sure — she just saw folks setting up a bandstand.

And the cashier — THE CASHIER, representing the company — says, “Oh probably a revival or something.”

I blinked. “Um, what?!”

She must have thought I was in agreement. “Who knows what they do. Other than block traffic.”

Well, it’s on a back street and not either of the main parkways in this town. First of all. Second, that’s pretty freakin’ insensitive.

I’d call it racist. But it was clear the large black dude behind me in line was her boo. Since she was talking to him more than to any of us who were handing her money.

Oh and it wasn’t a revival. I took an hour to walk through. There were souvenirs and foods and services for people from Cuba, El Salvador, Peru, Argentina and more.

And any culture that puts pina coladas in pineapples is all right by me.

Revival of taste buds, maybe. 

The love of my life 

March 12th, 2017, 7:31 AM by Goddess

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.

One year, one shirt, one less of a hot mess

January 24th, 2017, 10:25 AM by Goddess

525,600 minutes between these photos. And 36 pounds’ difference. 

My secret? Veggies. Walking. Hair falling out in clumps from anxiety.  Not that I had it to spare. 

I should be back to birth weight by this time next year. 

You didn’t come this far, to only come this far

January 15th, 2017, 10:22 AM by Goddess

I know I’m lucky. And that fortune is fragile. But I need that saying on a T-shirt STAT. 

Sometimes you’re the rock; sometimes you’re the river 

January 8th, 2017, 10:34 PM by Goddess

Carrie Fisher said she has two personalities, Roy and Pam. They represent the extremes of mental illness. One is the dinner, she says, and the other is a check. 

I think she died worrying about her mom. I fear I will do the same. 

I’m not kidding. I need to get my affairs in order. Not that mom wouldn’t pull a Debbie Reynolds and die the next day. She totally would. 

Watching them in “Bright Lights” reminded me of us. We sing and laugh all the time too. I just wish, when I was working so hard when I was young, I had amassed wealth like Carrie did. This whole turning the whole paycheck over to the landlord thing is killing me. 

Was telling a friend I know I’ll have to work till I die. But as I age, I want to go see the beach on a weekday. Binge-watch whatever is on my DVR. Ease my aching joints or soul and not have to suck it up and put on makeup and be at a too-early meeting and have to work late to compensate. 

I don’t know that 23-year-old me could have done anything different. Life worked out the way it did. It’s been good. I’ll grant it that. 

But with the Mango Mussolini’s reign about to begin, I think we will see a lot of people losing their will to live or at least to fight. 

I joke that I might as well spend my money now because the world will end. I wonder what would happen if I paid zero taxes like him. 

And I wonder what I could be achieving without getting sucked into stories about how much that dumb fuck sucks. 

And that brings me to this:

Just leaving that here. For whenever I’m not busy being the rock or crying a river. Or both at the same time.