Cover Your Nose

Some people cover their foreheads. Others cover their chins.

Let It Snow...So Long As I'm Not In It

I’m in Burbank, but I am keeping an eye on the kitties back East to see how they handle the weather.

Shedding

My mom posted this photo of me in my Kreuzberg, Berlin sublet from Spring, 2001, when she and her husband came to visit. 

I didn't realize I shed a bunch of long hair by the desk, but the owner of the flat let the real estate agent know. Oy. 

Useless Little Pots and Bowls

I don’t even know what to do with these but I keep making them, trying to learn to get predictable results.

Anyway, He's Orange

Bart came to visit Jay on the catio this afternoon.

At least I think it's Bart. Maybe there's a Barry or Wally we've never met before.

Bart, why don't you turn around and give the security camera a good look at you?

The Sublet

Friends stayed at my Burbank condo while I was out of town for almost two months. To make room for them, I squirreled things away in boxes under the bed, behind shelves, under the couch, on top of cabinets...

And a week after my return, I still can't find everything. I hid stuff very, very well.

Powerful Exec

Today's fun work-time adventure:

-Marie is working from home so just rolls out of bed and pulls on jeans and T-shirt, even though she should really wash her hair today. But who cares, no one will see her.

-Marie gets e-mail script for a video program she's part of for four hours on Friday.

-Marie scrolls past the script since it's only Thursday.

You can probably see how this ends, right?

Remember the Aranui from MariesWorldTour?

I'd like to go to Pitcairn Island on the Aranui.

Unfortunately, the cheapest bunk is $4308.

Maybe I'll go to Staten Island instead.

Looking East

I'm kinda hunkered down here in Burbank after the plane back, an event in the outdoor courtyard at my office, and just general catching up after the holiday break.

But I can still pretend I'm outside.

In Search of...Warmth

The time has come to get out of the cold. Next stop, Burbank.

Also, the video doorbell more-or-less works. Last night it had a little spazz but this seems like it’s doing all right.

How It Started, How It's Going

Pandemic doc, the Jersey City edition.

The Silent O

It's a cold night to be a opossum. An opossum? A possum?

The Catio

Here's what happens on my patio when I turn the key in the lock first thing in the morning.

Also, for contrast: Patio after dark.

More I Spy

I got a video doorbell. The idea is to set it up so when a delivery person drops a box in front of the downstairs door, a person on the 3rd or 4th floor would get a motion alert on their phone.

I like the actual doorbell--setup was easy, there's no subscription, and the video is stored on an SD card located INSIDE the house on the plug-in chime. It works over the house wi-fi.

I've been playing with the sensitivity, but so far I've only managed to make it view people and dogs walking by on the sidewalk.

I've tried zones and adjustments, but I can't seem to make it alert me when someone is actually by the door or the trashcans. Maybe I'll have to just hope the delivery people push the actual bell, and use the motion sensor to look at cute dogs.

An Obit for My Dad

George Austin Javins, age 78,—aka my dad and all-around legendary character, a bit of James Dean mixed with Johnny Cash and a dash of MacGyver if he were on Hee Haw—died of an apparent stroke Monday afternoon, at home in a small town on the Allegheny mountains slopes just west of the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia. He was with his wife and autistic adult son, and my sister was able to arrive shortly thereafter.

I find myself challenged by my own reactions, which are as mixed as George’s hybrid characteristics above. My ambivalence feels incorrect, and yet, here we are. I understand loss, and I wasn’t estranged…but we resided on dissimilar planets. After my parents split when I was on the brink of teen-hood, my dad had several different lives over the next fifty-ish years. I am…not a footnote, exactly. I’m a distant memory, a sentence in an introduction. “My daughter works at Marvel Comics.”

I don’t, of course. But sometimes, you just roll with it.

I Spy

My sister gave me a fun new toy for Christmas.

I can't pretend to totally understand how it works yet, but I hope to get some good raccoon videos.

Happy End of 2021, Welcome to 2022

In truth, I’ve never been much for New Year’s, but that doesn’t make me all that unusual. Lots of us struggle with feeling pressured to take stock of our annual achievements and goals.

I’ve gotten better at this over the years, and while I enjoy a good wallow, I have learned that I can wallow any old time. There’s no need to schedule it for a few hours on the 31st of every December.

Or maybe it’s as simple as this.

With pandemic, who gives a shit anymore? Did you survive the year? That’s success. We’re good here. Congrats to us. May you continue to survive, to eke out a little happiness from small joys. A brisk evening walk with a friend. Lunch under a heat lamp on a reclaimed lane of Sixth Avenue. Writing a series of Facebook posts instead of a book. The bar is so low to be harmless and unintimidating; you can’t even stub your toe on it.

Happy New Year, everyone. Welcome to another day of another week of another month of another year. Arbitrary dates aren’t really meaningful, so if you barely got through 2021, don’t sweat it. Plenty of time for that brisk walk later in the month, or just give up on it altogether and do something unabashedly meaningless and silly. In 2022, success is introducing yourself to the neighbor's dog.