the nightmare is ending

11 a.m. Who knew that one day the whole world would be watching Pennsylvania? Breath held. Go Scranton!

Anna just texted, it's over. One panel has declared a Biden victory. CNN, the NYT and the Wapo haven't yet. But it's clear - it's President Biden. And it's also clear we're going to have to watch a tantrum to beat all tantrums. 

I have things to do on this glorious sunny day, but can't until it's final, until it's declared officially. The nightmare isn't over; he's still there, he's still got months to make trouble, his vile enablers are still very much in evidence. 

But basic human decency won. Biden is no dream candidate; he's dull, he debates badly, he's from the right wing of the party. But he's a decent man and has been his whole life, we know that from how he has lived and who he is now. An almost unimaginable difference from the person now in the office.

Almost. But not quite. Let's imagine, folks. 

PS 1 p.m. on this glorious day with hot sun shining: Anna has just written that she wants to get the paperwork in order in case her father and his family need to fly from their home in Washington DC to Canada quickly. That's my girl - looking ahead, being realistic, taking care of her loved ones. Let's hope this level of care is not necessary, however.

Time to go kick some leaves. The Prosecco is back in the fridge. I took it out and put it away Tuesday night while cursing humanity. But now there's light and warmth and hope; there will be celebrating. Just saw a video of people dancing wildly in the streets of Philadelphia. I want to dance too. A filthy suffocating black cloud is lifting from our planet.

body blow

My body hurts, as if I've been pummelled, kicked in the gut, in the head. Well, maybe that also has to do with chasing my grandsons around the playground, growling loudly. That's our game - I'm the wolf, trying to eat them. At one point I growled so fiercely that a little girl nearby started to cry, so we had to temper our game.

It was a balm for the soul to be at a playground, a place of fantasy and fun, in High Park which was shining gold today.

After a sprinkling of snow a few days ago, today was almost hot - well, it was hot in the sun, though windy. A beautiful day in which to reflect on the fact that this planet is fucked.

Excuse me, but it's true. If millions of citizens cannot tell the difference between decency and gross, unspeakable evil, or, worse, they can tell the difference and they don't care, then we are fucked as a species and as a planet. As Anna said today, we'll be okay, it's Eli and Ben and their children who will really suffer. And it's true. 

I still cannot believe it. As Frank Bruni wrote in the NYT today, it's soul-shredding. It's a body blow. Even if Biden wins, it will be impossible for him to accomplish anything; they've been emboldened. My god, even the disgusting Susan Collins got back in. 

Anyway, I did get a break from it all, growling in the park. I've been joking about slitting my wrists. But the sun was shining and the boys were grinning and running and I got through. Now to go drink wine with Monique. And maybe cry a little for poor stupid, unbelievably stupid, greedy, selfish, blind, appalling humanity. My species disgusts me today.

11 p.m. wanting to puke

Had to turn it off, hours ago. I put on the (Dixie) Chicks and then watched another episode of The Queen's Gambit. I turned it off when Mitch and Lindsay won and then the QAnon woman. Unbearable. Unfuckingbearable. How is it possible? I want to throw up. 

So, to bed, to read for hours perhaps, to try to release the tension in my shoulders and stomach and heart.

Profound sadness. People are so fucking much more stupid than is comprehensible. 

Election night

7 p.m. I know as soon as I turn on the TV I'll be flung into the pit of wondering and fretting, so I'll wait a bit longer to turn it on. Because we probably won't know for sure for a long time. But the indications are clear - millions and millions of Americans have had enough. 

May the nightmare end. May decency return to that benighted land. And even so, poor Biden - as a NYT columnist wrote today, Why does he want that job??

However, let's make sure he gets it first. 

Monique and her American boyfriend Ron are coming at 8. I'll turn on then. In the meantime ...

Mayor Pete slays the Fox dragons

I can't stand it any more! My eyeballs are roasting in my head! Let's survive tomorrow somehow, and then Wednesday will be a major detox day, no social media, nothing, no no no. Got to stop this obsessive scrolling!!

Wait - who am I kidding? Think he and his goons are going to slink quietly into the night? How will they try to throttle democracy? Jesus, does it not feel as if we've been enduring this election battle for years? In the middle of a pandemic? Enough, the entire planet cries. MAKE HIM GO AWAY. ALL OF THEM. 

What cheered me up today was Mayor Pete. His appearances on Fox have been going viral, one after the other - they set 'em up, he knocks 'em down. Phenomenal - all done smoothly, with prime articulacy and not a hint of condescension. Here's a short bit. Do yourself a favour and find some of the others.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQAuuVBFi6I

Today's treat, besides a long visit and a bowl of my just-made leek and potato soup with my dear friend Jason: an hour and a half Zoom call with Trevor, now living in a town near Copenhagen, whom I met a few times in the seventies. He was a post-doc of my father's and spoke at his memorial event in 1988. He has ordered my books and is apparently reading them all, when they arrive in Denmark. We got caught up about our lives and talked about my mother and father, who were, he said, like parents to him. Did you know that biochemists are supposed to be boring? Trevor told me there's a true story about a woman who put a personal ad in the paper "seeking an educated, intelligent man. No biochemists." 

"But your dad was trained as a biochemist," he said, "and could not have been less boring." 

Trevor is an immunologist, a growth profession these days. I hope some day he'll explain a few scientific things to me, like what exactly a biochemist and an immunologist are and do. Next time, we're going to Zoom in Pam, who lives in Amsterdam, another former student of Dad's, the woman who did not have his baby and whom I've never met. What an adventure! Trevor told me it has meant the world to him, because of my call getting in touch with his own past. He has been contacting old friends and remembering. 

That's something else we do, we memoirists — in our search for our own story, we reconnect people with theirs. 

Trevor sent this picture of my parents — a new favourite. Dad mixing drinks, I assume, Mum in one of her 46 white blouses. How happy this image makes me.