Soooo President Trump is has done a ton of shit-awful things in his first ten days, Olive seems to be talking EXTRA a lot lately, and I woke up this morning to find that my license plate had been stolen.
Did you know that was a thing? I didn’t, but hey! Apparently, that’s a thing! The more you know…
Anyway! In the face of all this bullshit, some wonderful things have also happened in this, the first month of 2017, that make me think this will be an A+ year.
Image via CNN
“I cannot put into words how heartbreaking it is to see grown adults that I know and love decide only now to take to the streets. I’m glad you’re doing something. But…weren’t we worth it before? Why weren’t we reason enough? Where have you been? And where will you be once this doesn’t impact you directly anymore?”
On Saturday, Olive and I joined millions of other women around the world at the Women’s March.
I have several New Year’s Eve traditions that I’m quite fond of. One is thoroughly cleaning my house and smudging everything before midnight; I like to enter a new year with good energy and a spotless house.
Another tradition ois celebrating the new year early with Olive. I run her a hot bath with bubbles and candles and we drink sparkling apple juice out of champagne glasses while talking about our goals for the new year – all the things we’d like to learn and do and become.
The last tradition, however, has quickly become my favourite one and it’s only in its second year: New Year’s Eve yoga.
Heading into last night, it seemed incomprehensible that Clinton would win by the close margin all the polls predicted. There was no doubt in my mind that a landslide of voters would come out to cast their ballots against someone so inflammatory, ignorant, inexperienced, and hateful.
I sat there last night and watched the numbers roll in with absolute horror.
“He’s going to win.” I texted a friend in disbelief, “He’s going to fucking WIN.”
And he did.
Photo by Neil McElmon
On Friday night I found myself crushed into the middle of a dia de los muertes themed dance floor, in a club for the first time in Beyonce knows how many years, writhing along to too-loud music and trying to escape the bump and grind grasp of sugar-skull-painted dudes behind me.
I was there to watch my little sister Claire perform with her dance group Subscura, and it was unreal. Watching this person I’d seen grow from a newborn to a toddler to a child to a teenager, always strong, often lost, finally come into herself onstage as a lithe, vibrant and incredibly powerful woman – I have no words. I just kept screaming “That’s my SISTER!” over and over again. I was so, so proud.