Hey. Hi. Hello. How have you been? Busy? Me too. Me too. My daughter and her roommate are currently living with me. I might have mentioned that they had a month to month lease and their landlord decided to boot them at the end of June. He may have been trying to force them into signing another lease but this here mom stepped in to offer them temporary housing since they’re both leaving the city at the end of summer. 

The house is, as a result, something of a mess. It’s actually catastrophically untidy because their home is inside my home. But my youngest son and I are enjoying the company (and the cooking). Even in my bedroom, I can hear my girls, as I’ve been thinking of them, laughing and chattering with their friends on facetime. We’re going to miss them when they leave. The dogs are going to go into a decline because they have never been so loved as they are right now, with so many available hands to pet them. 

Since all of the bedrooms are occupied, my three dogs are with people instead of kenneled in the guest room. Yes, there’s a mini-doxy sleeping with me. We both object to this, quite strongly. I have a king mattress so, because she is NOT a cuddler, she is sleeping on the cat’s side. Which the cat does not appreciate. The cat is protesting by sleeping at the foot of the bed. I’ve accidentally kicked her off twice when I stretch out in my sleep. In other words, things are going great. Right? On the other hand, the cat is absolutely thrilled by my daughter’s return to the house so I’ll likely eventually be forgiven for allowing the dog on the bed. 

To recap: Chaos is generally the order of the day but the house is also currently overflowing with joy. I’d exchange a calm, tidy house for a joyful one every single time without a moment’s hesitation. 

Working at the coffee shop – a frequent, but usually not constant, event – is now a daily necessity. My desk, a rescued antique roll-top, is not even reachable due to the current state of things. But writing in this big, open building is an absolute hoot. I like the energy level. The constant hum of conversation. The people-watching options. The outfit inspiration. 

A young person just walked by wearing a (very) colorful Hawaiian shirt with matching shorts. I’ve never seen an entire Hawaiian-shirt-themed outfit. It is fantastic and I mean that entirely unironically. I would love to wear that outfit. Many years ago, I attended a mandatory team-building overnight for work and the admin assistant tried to get us all to wear grass skirts and leis. (Her success was limited.) Perhaps things would have turned out differently if we’d all gotten to wear Hawaiian shirts and shorts? 

The main street in front of the coffee shop has been closed a lot recently – Jam on Walnut, Shadyside Sundays, Vintage Grand Prix, ShadySidewalk Sale. There were barricades set up to prevent driving and the lack of cars had the very unexpected effect of reducing the community stress. The space is obviously quieter without traffic. Pedestrians meandered. The coffee shop line was consistently out the door. And the weather cooperated, if you don’t mind heat that will cook your brains as you walk from sun to shade to sun. 

When I last drove to Erie, the weather up there was a little gloomy and cool. Not-my-Aunt G was having a less than stellar day. In a mental place that had no memories and no structure, she was sad and a little grumpy, as you’d expect of a person who isn’t entirely sure where they are. Because the weather in Pittsburgh was fantastic, I was wearing a linen dress – very casual, loose, summery – that she objected to strongly. Because, as usual, she thought I was a guy. She was worried for my safety since, as she told me, men wearing women’s clothing aren’t safe. 

Sometimes, people ask me why I visit since she doesn’t remember who I am. Here’s the thing, really two things – I don’t just visit for her. She’s been family to me for the literal entirety of my life. Just because she doesn’t remember me doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten her. Sure, it’s not always easy talking since we no longer have shared memories but I can FIND things to say. I ask her about a specific memory or talk to her about things that I know she used to value. She loves flowers so I’ve been keeping her updated on my pollinator garden. (She thinks I should plant more pink roses – her personal favorites. She tells me that every time I tell her about my garden.) Last week, I asked her what she wanted me to make for her dinner. We talked for an hour about what I should buy at the grocery store. We made a list. She found it very soothing because, she said, she never has any food in the refrigerator anymore. 

Also, even though she doesn’t remember me, she is always happy to see me. I usually arrive before lunch so I can escort her (aka push her wheelchair) to the dining room. We sit with three other women and talk. I often comment on the music – they have a rotating playlist of songs from each decade. The music is a great topic. All the residents have thoughts – and so do the staff. Luke, one of the staff, came over to talk about the music. He swore that Frank Sinatra would be playing soon and sure enough, when one of his songs finally came on, there was a resounding cry of “ole blue eyes.” 

Not-my-Aunt G introduced Luke as her boyfriend. I joked with him about that – scolded him for cheating on me – and he told me not to tell Elaine who eats in the other dining room because she also thinks he’s her boyfriend. Poor guy. 

Usually I bring my latest crochet project so I have something to do with my hands. Last week, in addition to the usual box of cookies from the bakery, I brought homemade strawberry pie that not-my-Aunt G had requested. She didn’t want it, though, wasn’t in the mood. And that’s okay. My mom’s recipe for strawberry pie – made with strawberry compote – is straight from angels. Believe me; it did not go to waste.

Have you seen the Barbie movie? If you haven’t, get your butt there! If you have, what did you think? I mean, beyond loving it with all the breath in your body, what did you think? My daughter and her roomie didn’t even notice a couple references that decimated me in the most accurate metaphorical sense. I can’t wait to see it again.

There is something wrong with the novel I finished writing last month. I can’t figure out what it is so I’ve put it aside. I’m going to have to read it again in a couple months, at which point I will hopefully have an epiphany about why it isn’t working. While that novel percolates, I’m writing my next story, a contemporary rom-com. My male protagonist is bisexual which means that I need to find a bisexual beta reader. Unfortunately, none of the bisexual men in my community are willing to read a romance – not even for ME. I know. I know. That’s crazy. But there it is. 

Like the letters I write to friends, this blog post has gotten too long. I’m going to cut it off mid-update. Picture me, sitting at the entrance to the coffee shop, sun shining on my sweating glass of pink hibiscus tea. My computer screen is shaded as I type and watch and type some more.

Stay safe in this increasingly foolish world.

Much love.