📍notes from nowhere #0

from one Bay to another

From one Bay Area to another 

When the pandemic threw us into lockdown in mid-March, Mike & I were living in a converted attic apartment on top of San Francisco’s Bernal Heights hill. The attic was railroad-style, with big skylights that let you follow the sun’s daily passage through each room of the house. We’d work across from each other on a bright yellow desk in the back room each morning, and by early evening, we’d throw open the double-doors and sunbathe from inside our living room, taking in the fog as it unfurled over the San Francisco skyline. I loved it.

Most of our belongings were already in storage, having spent the last two years moving between temporary places in SF and LA. We’d only leased the attic apartment through May, so in early June, we packed a small suitcase each and our best kitchen knives, and set off for a change of scenery: Florida.

Since then, we’ve been living in St. Petersburg, a juicy little settlement on the West coast of the state, facing east toward Tampa Bay. My favorite parts of living here include: our backyard is made of water! We live on a key (a small, low-lying coral island), and it’s an all-day critter-show: pelicans, barking like mad dogs. birds of all types, dive-bombing and then emerging clutching giant catfish in their claws. dolphin mamas and their babies. lumbering manatees. sting-rays like magic carpets. sharks: omnivorous bonnetheads and the occasional spinner, leaping twelve feet out of the water.

Mike in his Florida uniform, fishing in the backyard.

What else? Watching summer storms roll in from the porch. Wild nature to run through. Having a car! (First time since high school). The bright green water of fresh water springs (and a reason to wear Tevas). Being close enough to family for a spontaneous drive-through Dairy Queen run. 

You can see a peek of blue sky, right before it gets swallowed!

I never realized you could actually *want* swimming water to be cold.

In summary: look out, San Francisco. You’re not the only Bay Area on this hunk of land!

The election is coming 

… oh, you noticed? Yeah, same. The New York Times added an entirely new tab to the architecture of their app to keep us informed. The first presidential debate made me lose my appetite for the rest of time (it came back after remembering that croissants exist, but … yikes). When I turned in my absentee ballot this week at the Pinellas County Board of Elections office, I found my eyes were wet with tears. 

Since August, I’ve been channeling my election anxiety into running email marketing for a Democratic candidate for the Pennsylvania State House. Michele Wherley is a mom and local businesswoman looking to flip her district’s seat from Red to Blue which, in a key battleground like Western PA, could make a difference not just for local constituents, but in the scope of our national election.

It’s through an incredibly cool organization called Tech For Campaigns, which pairs people with digital skills with down-ballot political campaigns who need help with their websites, emails, and ads. (Mike is doing the same thing for a candidate in nearby Seminole Country, near Orlando.)  

Working on Michele’s campaign has made me feel stressed, incompetent, competitive, and informed. I’ve never worked on email marketing before (subject lines! open rates!), and I don’t know the nuances of local Pennsylvania politics. But I’m researching, writing, and learning. And ultimately, it has felt so good to have a very specific connection to this larger thing that’s shaping our country, no matter how this individual race pans out. 

I’ve been simultaneously impressed and overwhelmed by all the ways to donate and get involved this political season. I recently learned about deep canvassing, which, unlike traditional phone-banking, goes beyond a 5-minute conversation and tries to engage with empathy and vulnerability in a longer, deeper conversation about which way someone plans to vote. I found the idea super interesting. People’s Action is one organization that facilitates this.

How have you been dealing?

Joy blaaaast

A quick twofer on what’s bringing me joy these days. I’d love to hear what’s doing it for you. 

Jim Dale, Jim Dale!

I’d known for a while that Mike, my chosen life partner, never finished the Harry Potter series. He made it through book four back in middle school, but never made it to the end. Despite the offensiveness of this reality, I convinced myself he was still a good life partner, and (mostly) put it out of my mind. But as the challenges of 2020 mounted, I found myself desperate to escape to a world that wasn’t like this one—so I suggested we re-read (and complete) the series together. 

It’s been an indescribably joyous endeavor. Especially, we both agree, renting the audiobook versions from the library, which are narrated entirely by the incomparable Jim Dale (← this video describes his inspiration for the many characters he voices throughout the series). We’ve made it a habit of chanting his name in celebration, whether the invocation is related to Harry Potter or not. I highly recommend it—both listening to his version of the Harry Potter books and adopting the chant. We hope, one day, that both of us can go as Jim Dale for Halloween. 

Hot stuff

On my 32nd birthday, I set out to whip up this hot sauce roast chicken with tangy kale salad from NYT Cooking. Mike supported as my sous-chef / chicken carver, and I gotta say, the result might have been our best yet. If you’re not an NYT subscriber, here’s a PDF of the recipe. Make it; feel eternal happiness.

Before roasting and basting, you tuck pats of butter underneath the skin. I meeeean.

What I’m reading, cooking, or listening to

• I recently plowed through Leigh Stein’s novel Self Care, a “blistering takedown” of the wellness industry, tech, and corporate feminism—many LOLs. Please read, and let’s discuss.

• I’ve been enjoying the archive of Out of Office Network’s series on creating boundaries between work and life, and creating space for wonder and play. 

• I come back to this 10-minute Yoga w/ Adriene video at least once a week. So good for the neck and shoulders for anyone who is desk-bound most of the day.

A poem-share

Poetry is medicine. This week, I’ll share with you Section 1 from Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself, and hope you will delight as I have in his reminder of the ecstatic transfer of energy between us in this strange universe.

1

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,

And what I assume you shall assume,

For every atom belonging to me as good as belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul, 

I lean and and loaf at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, very atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air, 

Born here of parents here from parents the same, and their parents the same,

I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,

Hoping to cease not till death.

Creeds and schools is abeyance,

Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, 

I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,

Nature without check with original energy.

Me, eating a mango lassi popsicle at sunset.

Sending good vibes!

Becca