brooklyn has been rainy all weekend, but i am still very dehydrated
someone point me to a recycling bin because i need to get rid of these bags under my eyes
It is currently raining and thundering this gray Brooklyn day as I write Circle Back from the desk at BAGGU. This gives the opportunity to try to write like a woman waiting for her husband to return from the Revolutionary War.
30 April 2023 (1775)
Dearest Cornelius (most likely what my husband’s name was back then),
I write to you once again from our bedroom quarters, where you haven’t been since the start of the war (April 19, 1775). Eleven days can feel like twelve sometimes. I look out this dirty window and search for your blue uniform and little hat (I don’t remember what kind of uniforms soldiers had during the Revolutionary War, and I can’t Google it because this is the 18th century). When will you return, dearest Corn? Every day, I imagine what our home would be like if you were here — probably more expensive to take care of and harder to clean. What I’m trying to say is you’re a slob.
Anyway, I had a wonderful weekend. I met cousin Sima’s (hmm what would Sima’s name be in the 1700s?) Whoops, apologies, Cornelius. I meant to say cousin Sabrina’s newborn infant. Two months old now! My illustrations have improved a considerable amount since you left, so I’m leaving a few drawings of her child that I drew from memory:
That third one is a watercolor painting. Lots of water near the Hudson.
I know you’ve never met these people before and also never believed in my talents, but these illustrations are spot on. I’m sure that if you haven’t been killed by the British already, you’ll respond by telling me that I should pursue a new hobby. But alas, I will still chase my dreams since there’s literally nothing else for me to do while this silly little rainy war continues.
The thunder is frightening, dearest Corn. It sounds like a ball rolling down a smooth alleyway and colliding into several stonelike bottles — preferably 10 stonelike bottles. That actually sounds like quite an amusing game. Perhaps someone smarter than I who knows how to read will create it one day.
It’s days like these when I stare out the window and wonder when you will return. And it’s also days like these when I wonder if you will return with a gift or a trinket maybe for me. Not trying to pressure you into doing that, but I dunno, maybe like if you wanted to bring something home for me I wouldn’t object to the comforting thought.
But if I don’t see you again, Cornelius, just know that I am thriving without you. I am meeting cousins’ little babes and going out with the girlies and binge-watching Succession … uh, wait, I meant that I’ve been going to see the play King Lear over and over again. Okay, so long, Corn. And good riddance!
Ugh, thank GOD that’s over. It’s so exhausting pretending to be somebody you’re not! Take it from me: I was just pretending to be Betsy Ross. Kidding, everybody. I don’t know who that is.
Babies are so crazy once you meet one. I’ve met hundreds, maybe even thousands. But when you meet one that’s related to you? Well, that’s a different experience. That baby is your family! You can’t stop staring at them! They’re so beautiful! You are their bodyguard. I am Mark Harmon in West Wing — he’s a drop-dead gorgeous Secret Service agent and I am exactly that come ON everybody let’s pick up the pace. He also drops dead because he gets killed, but that is completely irrelevant to the comparison I’m making right now. Babies depend on you for everything, and there’s nothing you can do to prevent that. Any person that is beside a baby has now become responsible for their happiness. Here’s an example:
Take this baby — don’t actually take the baby just look at it:
Suri Cruise, the offspring of Katie Holmes and Scientologist Tom Cruise is now in your hands. If tiny baby Suri Cruise was sitting next to you on the bus, you would now have to amuse Suri Cruise on the bus. It’s just how things work. And you would die for Suri Cruise. This is what happens when you see a baby. No matter what. And that’s how I felt all weekend with two-month-old Zulal Armina Gehring. I would change that lil Zulia Roberts’s diaper every second of the day if she needed it. And you would, too, if you met her. And the same goes for baby Suri Cruise. Okay, fine, you don’t agree about Suri Cruise? Well, how about this baby:
Exactly. We would all die for the Gerber baby.
Now let’s completely change subjects with this photo transition that I will not address after the transition:
WELL, Mother’s Day is right around the corner (at the Jewel-Osco at Six Corners actually because that’s where my mom is going to buy some groceries for when I come home to Chicago in a week because she loves me and I need to eat all the time), and you know what that means:
It’s time to get emails about gifts to buy your mom or people who are moms! Here’s a good one I just got today:
From simplehuman: Your Mom Is Gonna Love That You Bought Her A Trash Can For $200
Maybe they’re right. Maybe my mom, known to most as Michele with one L, would actually love it if I bought her a $200 simplehuman trash can. But guess WHAT, simplehuman? Who do you think introduced me to your brand several years ago?!?! You think I just know trash can brands, you dumb idiots! Of course not! Obviously, my mom already has a $200 trash can. I will not be getting her that.
I got my mom something that will most likely make her cry harder than the clouds in Williamsburg today — but in, like, a cool way. She will not be sad. She will be like, “Aw! So glad I adopted you that day 26 years ago, Kerry. Don’t forget to take the simplehuman trash out.”
So this is your reminder to get your mama a Mother’s Day gift because you know she wants one, even if she says she doesn’t really care! Moms don’t ever use the words “I don’t care” in a sentence if they don’t actually care. Get her that gift or say goodbye to the family emergency credit card that you use to get an Uber sometimes, even though you’re only supposed to be using it if you get hit by a car or fall off the East River ferry or something.
Next week, I will be heading to Chicago for 10 days to celebrate my brother’s college graduation and also Mother’s Day (something I shouldn’t have to remind you of since I just mentioned it two freaking momes ago). It’ll be nice to spend some extra time in Chicago. I need some familiarity for a week-ish. I need to watch Jeopardy! with my mom. I need to see baby Z again. I need to eat at Handlebar. I need a cruise (not a Tom Cruise) down Lake Shore Drive. But most importantly, I need to stop running into famous people. It’s getting exhausting. It’s like, no, I don’t want to see Penn Badgley standing outside of Clementine Bakery staring at the wall! And no, I don’t want to hear Sylvester Stallone swearing swears I’ve never even heard before across the street from the North 4th Whole Foods! Can’t a girl just live her life without recognizing someone? Chicago, here I come!
tv rec: Catastrophe — Sharon Horgan is one of my favorite comedy writers, so go watch Catastrophe and then watch Bad Sisters
book rec: Play It As It Lays by Joan Didion — just picked up a 1972 print of it at a secondhand store for $10 <3
music rec: Peter, Paul and Mary — perfect rainy-day tunes
something to drink: water
In honor of my cousin Sima’s new baby Zulal, here’s a photo of little Sima holding yours truly as a baby:
Have a gargus (gorgeous in an Irish accent) week!