“Tell me something good,
just one good thing, just tell me
something that will get me through
the hours the days the weeks that bring
nothing of any goodness, just more
news of other things […]”
Margaret Atwood, excerpt from Paper Boat
When I was a kid, the whole side of our house was lined with orange daylilies. Every year, without fail, they bloomed at the end of June, so riotous and unruly they knocked into the car doors when we pulled into the driveway. All my mother’s other garden beds were careful, spare. But the daylilies were ungovernable, like me. And because my birthday was at the end of June, they always felt that much more like a gift.
Just the other day I noticed that all the daylilies in my backyard seemed to have opened overnight, and yesterday, right on cue, I turned 46. It doesn’t even sound real, as an age. Forty-six? Who am I? How did this happen?
I spent last week working on an essay for today. It was heartfelt, and vulnerable, and when I got to the end of it, I realized it still wasn’t quite coming together. Writing is like that, sometimes. Most of the time, actually. As slow and painstaking as chipping a sculpture out of a hunk of marble. I want to keep chipping at that essay, so instead, I present you with a list of 46 good things, one for each of my trips around the sun.
speaking of the sun: the sun! Sixteen hours of daylight! I know, if it was always like this I wouldn’t appreciate it blah, blah, blah yes I would.
the way my kids smell after they’ve been playing outside in the sun. (are all of these going to involve the sun? Maybe! It’s June!)
public libraries (and librarians!)
independent bookstores
plot driven fiction
reading plot driven fiction in bed with the fan on in the middle of the day
shade trees
the community pool
prescription sunglasses
reading plot driven fiction under a shade tree at the community pool with my prescription sunglasses
speaking of trees, the way leaves shatter sunlight into perfect circles
the sweet young person who called me an icon when I charged into a zebra crosswalk after the exhibition, forcing traffic to stop. (The cars are supposed to stop!)
the many, many (mostly young) queer folks I saw when I was downtown, holding hands on the sidewalk, draping their bodies over each other, wearing whatever the fuck they wanted to wear. They made my heart soar. Frida would have been proud.
speaking of Pride, RAINBOWS
speaking of Pride again, all the Pride decorations and events in my neighborhood, all the parades in all the cities, all the people who refuse to stop celebrating who they are, and all the people who are fighting for their rights.
speaking of even more Pride (are all of these going to be about Pride? Maybe! It’s June!), the Being Alive Book Club—which meets tonight to talk about Marsha by Tourmaline and just generally be in community. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: this book club has been a beacon of hope during this absolute bullshit year.
Birkenstocks (without socks. no judgement, birks with socks just aren’t for me.)
finding my old walkman in the basement, with a tape inside, and discovering it still works
listening to my favorite music from high school, thirty years later (It’s incredibly disorienting to realize that on a random day, probably in 1997, I stopped in the middle of Fiona Apple’s “Never is a Promise,” and then didn’t press play again until 2025. Talk about a wrinkle in time.)
speaking of music, vocal harmonies
all the new flowers in my front yard this year (so many coneflowers!)
the ruby-throated hummingbird that I’ve seen hanging around in my garden (four times!)
fireflies
strawberries straight from the garden (are all of these going to involve the garden? Maybe! It’s June!)
shorts. Why are they so much better than pants? I don’t know, but they are.
air conditioning. I didn’t grow up with it, we didn’t even have it in our car, so I will never not appreciate it.
but also when you go from an overly chilled building, like a restaurant or a store, and your car has been sitting in the sun and it’s really, really hot, like a sauna, and you just sit in the driver’s seat for a few minutes without starting the car and let yourself roast.
when strangers let me pet their dogs
italian ice (specifically lemon Italian ice from Johnnies on North ave.)
antibiotics. One of my kids got strep twice this month. I know the current HHS secretary thinks we get sick from demon air or imbalanced humors or some shit, but I’m a big fan of science. So is my kid’s throat.
my friend Amy told me she saw a bunch of teenage boys absolutely blasting Stevie Nicks while waiting for their hockey camp to start, and the mental picture I conjured brought me immense joy.
Gayle Brandeis, who owns and runs Secret World Books, told me she once heard that a To Be Read Pile is an act of hope, and that brought me an equal amount of joy. I don’t know about you, but it’s nice to think that I have shelves and shelves of hope instead of (just) ADHD.
sending (and receiving) snail mail.
speaking of snail mail, the first round of paid subscriber benefits went out this weekend! Founding members (aka Extra Softies) got a sticker and a postcard. For less than five dollars a month, you too can get random art-type stuff in the mail from me! Or you can buy specific art-type stuff from my website. I am particularly proud of these tarot inspired zodiac stickers.
making comics. I’ve made two since this one, and will be sharing them soon. I also have several more in process. All credit goes to Crucial Comix Chronic Illness Comic Club. This has by far been the most surprising thing to come out of the year. It shouldn’t be, because I like art, and I like words, but sometimes you’re just the last one to know, you know?
polaroid photography
this gluten-free cheesecake that my mom made me with lactose free cream cheese and gluten-free Oreo crust. Will it still make me sick? Probably. Will it be worth it? Probably.
this one house I always drive by with a massive tangle of honeysuckle bursting over the fence. (it actually covers their entire pergola, which looks incredibly dreamy.)
holding hands with my kids. Hopefully, they’ll always let me.
bats. The other day I sat outside past sunset, and I saw one flapping around like a drunk mouse with wings. Delightful.
being here on this planet, now, with all of you.
If you’re still reading, thanks for sticking with me all the way to the end! And if you’d like to get me something for my birthday, all I really want is for you to tell me something good. Just one good thing, as Margaret says, though I bet (like potato chips) you can’t stop with one. Please drop your good thing/s in the comments! And if you enjoyed this post, please consider liking and/or sharing.
beautiful!
Late is my new brand! Happy birthday! One good thing: this fuckin’ blog post celebrating 46 years of YOU! YOU MADE IT 🎉❤️🎂