The more things stay the same

the more we need our failed state to change

My, oh my, how much has happened since I last wrote in June.

We’re closing in on 4 months, basically the whole summer, of outrageous news that has been blasting at us as if out of a firehose, with the force of the blast only increasing every day, every hour. I don’t even need to rehearse it for you. You know it. You see it every day.

Some things over at our house have not significantly changed in four months, despite everything. We’re still chilling around here, looking for jobs, hanging out at home, cooking always, shopping not at all, except for groceries. Living our best pandemic life. Our summer vacation was an afternoon hike at the beautiful Sand Ridge Nature Preserve, where you really should go.

Everyone’s back to school, and still, remote learning is not great for the learners I know. No disrespect to teachers, who are working like crazy with creativity and compassion to make this succeed.

I am still baking sourdough bread. This is my newest find—a truly wonderful recipe. Step by step directions, and super easy, in case you haven’t already joined the ranks of sourdough-talk haters. If you’re one of those, scroll past the next three photos.

Who ever heard of a sourdough rye cinnamon raisin? Make this.

Then there’s these hamburger buns. Not sourdough. They take less than an hour from start to finish. You will never need another recipe like this. I’ve just shared perfection with you.

(Can you tell that I used to be a food blogger? That I’d rather just share recipes all the live long day? You just need to know, if I’m sharing a recipe it is really a good one.)

I’m still sewing masks. Broke one machine and am on a second, courtesy of Leslie Travis and her immense mask-kit-distribution operation down here on the south side. She’s a clearing house for fabric and elastic and also, occasionally, used sewing machines.

I keep on walking in beautiful Washington Park. I’m pretty sure I saw a pair of anhingas in the lagoon there the other day (they looked exactly like this wikipedia photo), birds way out of their usual range (the southern US coast and below) but seen occasionally in the midwest.

My garden boxes, sad to say, were an absolute complete and utter dud. My carrot crop, shown here, is representative of everything I planted. Actually better than much of it. I have dear gardener friends who earnestly try to figure out what went wrong, and what I can do next time. (What I can do next time is pick carrots, cucumbers, and hot peppers at their house.)

I still visit Daily Paintworks almost daily for a little dose of beauty and joy. I actually bought a very inexpensive painting of fat little wrens that is going to cheer me at my desk.

A few things are different. Since June I’ve been socializing a good deal more. Of course I am socially distancing and wearing a mask when not eating or drinking, and doing it all outdoors.

Here’s the cathedral ceiling of my Orthodox church, which has been lucky enough to meet outdoors all summer and into the fall:

All summer I’ve been meeting with small groups of friends and family in our back yard. We can fit 6 safely, and no more. Now we’re starting to gather around this:

What can I say. As I watch the collapse of the known world around me I turn to familiar comforts.

In the face of a rogue presidency and a rotted Republican party that are drilling in on provocation, the breakdown of social trust, disinformation, and revenge, it’s time to do some drilling in of our own. We need to strengthen our ties to our own local communities, our local institutions that we do trust and give our time and attention to. Schools, neighborhood groups, block associations, local media, places of worship—you get the idea. These are what democracy is made of. Drill in to efforts to support access to voting, people who are homeless, newcomers to your neighborhood, racial justice. Support overworked food pantries. Band together to find lost pets. I don’t care what you do—just support your neighbors and community and our democracy, calmly.

We may be living in a failed state, but there’s an election coming up, work to do, and bread to bake. Let’s get on it.