Connie

So damn proud of my city tonight.

Today, going through airport security, I accidentally put my paper notebook of similar size and color in the tray instead of my Kindle as instructed. No one said a word, and they let me through without batting an eye.

Someone on my train today was selling copies of their self-published time travel novel, which I have to admit must be the most novel subway solicitation I’ve come across.

I had to replace my 9 year old computer last week, and I’ve been telling myself, better now than in a few months, at least.

I know this is small potatoes in the overall context of our collapsing economy, but I was startled to see that postage stamps will soon cost 78 cents. That's, like, 30 cents more than the last time I thought about the price of stamps. (Still using leftover forever stamps from our 2017 wedding...)

Proud to share that yesterday, April 8, I put away all my Christmas decorations for the year.

By the way, are we all calling Strom Thurmond a "segregationist" because we think it's possible to be a white segregationist without being a white supremacist, because he had a Black daughter (whose mother was a 16-year-old domestic servant working for his family), or because we're too embarrassed?

What an exciting day in America! We're all* so proud that our longest Senate floor speech record is no longer held by a white supremacist and sexual predator protesting civil rights!

*like, half of us

I'm so glad you enjoyed your trip and that you liked the Drama Book Shop!

Things have gotten so dire that I, someone who does not remember the last time I was in a movie theater, have actually purchased tickets to see The Encampments this weekend.

The people running our government are shamelessly defending leaking a law-breaking group chat about a sensitive military operation, so maybe the rest of us can give up cringing with mortification over that one time we were so awkward that most likely no one else remembers or ever thinks about.

A bird just pooped on me for the second time in a week. After a lifetime of never being pooped on by birds, this feels like a very unfortunate moment in history for my luck on this issue to tern.

P.S. There is a squirrel's tail making a cameo in the first photo.

I wasn't expecting to feel so soothed, so bolstered, by how very alive the world felt. Squirrels digging and playing, birds chirping, trees budding, spring flowers blooming, people everywhere enjoying the sunshine. The earth saying: we will endure; we will regrow; we will come alive again.

a photo taken from close to ground level, with dozens of bright purple crocuses in the foreground, at least a hundred yellow daffodils in the midground, and a squirrel's tail camouflaged in brown bramble in the background

pale pink cherry blossom flowers against a brown Y-shaped branch

I walked through Central Park this afternoon to savor the start of spring, and not only did I see my first daffodil of the season — my first thousand daffodils of the season — but I unexpectedly happened across a single cherry blossom tree already in bloom beside the Great Lawn.

My mom always says the reason I can’t carry a tune is because I wasn’t exposed to music enough in my early childhood, and it only occurred to me yesterday that maybe I experience music the way people experience a second language learned too late in life to achieve native fluency.

You can't erase us from history by erasing us from the history books.

More and more, I've come to the belief that most of life's happiness is in the smallest, most mundane moments of everyday pleasure. Splashing cold water on my face, imagining it's fresh from a mountain stream. Making tea using my favorite mug and my favorite spoon. The feel of sunshine on my skin.

Over the span of 28 hours this weekend, a bird pooped on one of my arms, and I burned my other arm on the oven door, so you can go ahead and pat yourself on the back for your superior arm-caretaking skills.

I was 100% inspired by your posts about your Chicago group to seek out this one!

a watercolor and colored pencil piece depicting several gnarled trees on a purple hill of crocuses, with green steps and brown leaf piles scattered throughout the landscape

two watercolor and colored pencil botanical sketches: the first depicting a rattlesnake plant, whose long wavy leaves are patterned with smaller, rounded leaf-like designs in a darker green, the second showing a single large elephant ear leaf, dark green with lighter green lines dividing it into segments and fine pale lines adding texture. the scientific names of the the plants are written on the page.

Yesterday, I attended my first event with NYC Nature Drawing Club at Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Drawn by the siren call of a profusion of crocuses, I sat outside on an overcast mid-40s afternoon, painting until my fingers grew stiff from the cold, before retreating to the warmth of the conservatory.

There’s power in knowing that a skill, a capacity I haven’t discovered yet today is one I can be proficient in a year from now. There’s power in creating in the face of destruction.

Crochet has been one of the most calming and empowering parts of my life this past year.

As the world shifts daily in inconceivable ways, there’s power in knowing that I can clothe myself with my own hands. There’s power in being able to self-soothe through the rhythmic movements of my hook.

me, smiling in front of a tapestry of purple and golden and forest green hills, wearing a colorful granny hexagon cardigan in dark pinks, purples, and blues, holding a neon orange stuffed cat wearing a matching cardigan

me, smiling in front of a tapestry of purple and golden and forest green hills, wearing a colorful granny hexagon cardigan in dark pinks, purples, and blues, my arms outstretched beside me

I started crocheting one year ago today. Last week, I finished the cardigan I’ve been working on all winter, the first garment I’ve ever made for myself, complete with a matching miniature for my hot water bottle cat.

Every day, I swing wildly between trying my best to ignore everything happening in the world and wondering how everyone else can possibly ignore everything happening in the world.

I can't believe that I, a nobody, have to explain to the Minority Leader of the U.S. Senate that if Trump actually wants a bill to fail, he has a literal chamber full of Republican Senators who will happily vote however he wants them to vote.

Chuck Schumer is a call to action not a name

To be abundantly clear: If you're a local, state, or federal elected official representing New York City — or you're running for office here — and can't be bothered to stand up and speak out for Mahmoud Khalil, then I certainly can't be bothered to vote for you.

Today is the 35th anniversary of the day I immigrated to America, a country whose vaunted freedoms of speech, assembly, and protest apparently mean nothing, given that permanent residents in New York City can now be detained and disappeared for demonstrating against a foreign government.

One of my husband's idiosyncrasies is that he likes to be able to glance up from any location in our home and see the time. 😂