Summertime, and the livin' is ... pretty damn weird

Some days I'm terrified for our world. Yes, things were worse during WW1, the Depression, WW2. And maybe even the Cold War, not to mention the Dark Ages and plague times. But this is another kind of dark age. Perhaps it was happening anyway, the rise of the foul dinosaurs, and Trump simply gave permission for it all to get much, much worse, but watching the rise of neo-fascist authoritarianism is appalling. Turkey - Russia - Brazil - Hungary - led by angry, greedy, heartless men angling for war. And then there's the most greedy and heartless of them all - not just him but his whole disgusting party on display this week, petrifying their follower sheep with lurid tales of violent gangs and lawless mobs and the "destruction of the suburbs" ...

Okay, enough, nothing I can do about it. Bill Maher last night begged his audience not to use the post office in October so as not to impede the flow of ballots through the possibly fatally damaged US postal service. Mind-boggling, as was his interview with a vicious Republican attack dog who went after Hillary relentlessly for Benghazi and yet had nothing to say about Trump's endless law-breaking.

Okay, I'll stop now.

Several nice things to report: one is that - bliss! - I've had a good haircut for the first time since February. My hair had become a wild and lawless mob; Ingrid, my hairdresser for decades, won't come back to work until there's a vaccine, and the nice young woman who did an interim job didn't understand my hair AT ALL. But Ruth's hairdresser Kathleen did, perfectly. What a difference; I feel light-headed and human again. And then another gift from Ruth: the Musical Stage Company offers Porch Concerts; you can book two singers to come to your house for an outdoor, distanced concert. A group of about twenty-five of us brought our own chairs and gathered in the courtyard in front of Ruth's house on a beautiful summer night, and as the light faded and the cicadas kept tune, we listened to a gorgeous young woman, six months pregnant, and her partner sing to us. Thank you, Ruthie!

The nicest thing of all: I sent a hesitant email to my ex-husband, telling him the memoir is now out, that it ends with the ecstatic beginning of our love affair and marriage. There are hints that all might not be well at some point, but mostly we were madly in love. He's a very private person and I was concerned about what he'd say, but he wrote back a warm, generous note supporting my work as a writer and asking me to send him the book. It's always an issue when you're writing about living people, as we memoir writers do - how will they take it? I could not ask for better from him.

My kids, however, have said maybe they won't read this one, dealing as it does with their mother's sex life, among many other things - and in fact, their grandmother's - my own mother's - sex life too! I understand if they don't. But I hope they do.

Summer is fading, but it's still hot, and the market this morning was full of peaches and corn - tho' the first apples have appeared too. I've nearly finished the audiobook - another few hours this coming week - and am sending out invitations to the book launch. I do think, with the number of friends, neighbours, and former students I have, that there might be a nice number of book sales when the book is released on September 9.

It's September 10 I'm worried about.