A lot gets lost in a text message or email. Subtlety and nuance, tone and demeanor, humor and earnestness – the online forms of communication take all of those vital components of communication away, leaving much room for misinterpretation and misunderstandings that sometimes make for a much clunkier and ineffective means of communication. Some of us don’t make it easy by how we respond to things, and I’m very much as guilty of this as anyone else, so I’ve devised a quick pocket post guide to translate what I may mean at any given time. (Do note that all of these are subject to change on a whim, so use these merely as a guide rather than a bible.) Here we go:

No worries = No worries – it’s all good, wholly devoid of snark or sarcasm 

Sounds good = Completely on board with what you just said, just closing the loop in as friendly a way as possible. Note: this does not require a response, and frankly one would be unappreciated 

Ok = a tricky one. For the most part it simply means ok, without excitement, enthusiasm, anger, or happiness one way or another. If it’s in response to something I’ve proposed or invited you to, there may often be a tinge of disappointment and sadness if you are declining. In what is becoming more common, it may also indicate apathy and genuine lack of care. 

That’s fine = That is fine. 

It’s fine = It’s probably not fine but I’m granting us the option of moving along without further discussion because you won’t want the ensuing discussion

I’m fine = Sound the alarm, light the beacons of Gondor, all hands on dick, err, deck, hide your kids, hide your wives, and be very afraid because I am most decidedly not fine and everyone in my vicinity is likely to not be fine in a very short time. 

[No response] = You’re fucked. Send flowers, send gifts, send a handwritten note on pretty stationary, and then give me some time and space. If I don’t re-engage we were probably never really friends in the first place, or you’ve simply worn me out with whatever it was that merited no response.

These aren’t difficult rules. My language is simple. Let me know if you want to practice.

The day’s eye in a bloom illuminated by a single shaft of sunlight – so begins July and the ascendance of summer proper. As the world turns ever darker, I turn ever inward, closing out the worst of humanity and focusing on the best; here is my little collection of friends and family, hearth and home, calm and creation. No matter what happens outside the heart, inside one can always make a place of peace. 

Shutting out the world, shutting off the news, shutting down the hate – it all serves a valuable purpose of self-care and self-preservation. We are useless to helping others if we cannot find a sense of peace within ourselves. 

Today begins with an appreciation of these daisies, and all that we are lucky enough to have. 

These cherries on my new swim trunks are absolutely popping. Cherries are a motif of the coquette aesthetic, so for this summer a swimsuit of such fruity charm is a necessity. From their early spring bloom to their flaming fall color, the cherry is a magnificent tree. Their scent is a bit trickier to enjoy, as evidenced by Tom Ford’s flailing cherry line, none of which really thrilled me. Instead, let’s focus on the ones we can eat, devouring their flesh and spitting out the pits – the elegant and the vulgar all at once, not entirely out of place with the multi-layered meanings of a coquette summer. 

And speaking of our coquette summer, let’s play a piece of music from across the pond to set the dramatic tone on a day when I don’t feel much like celebrating for a multitude of reasons. God save the Queen – and yes, I mean me.

It’s a strange and scary time to live in America. I’m not going to pretend that there isn’t a clear and present and very prominent danger to our very democracy in the form of the Republican nominee for President – and the fact that he is a convicted felon, a morally-reprehensible adulterer, and a proven-time-and-time-again outright liar should be what our nation is focusing on. Instead, the press and media seems hellbent on focusing on the age and bad debate of the other candidate. There is no comparison, and we teeter on the complete loss of the very tenets of our country. Look up Project 2025 and be very afraid, as it’s already happening. We’ve lost the Supreme Court (which did away with the supposedly-settled right for a woman to make choices over her own body, and just recently gave king-like immunity to Presidents, even proven criminals) – a Revolutionary War was literally fought to ensure we didn’t have to live under such a king, but history is lost on idiots. 

And what we have now is a country that is doing anything but keeping its eyes on the current and imminent threat to its survival. 

We’ve seen that no one is going to save us. No Congressperson, no press or media, no court of law, and no historical precedent. It was always, and only, up to us – our own citizens, our own people, our own believers in what the founding fathers created when they forged a brand new government for and by the people. Do I have faith that we will do the right thing in November to turn this danger away? I don’t know… I want to have hope… but I wonder. 

Wonder can be a powerful thing – it’s part of what birthed this nation, and part of what has kept it great. It also might be what sees us safely into a future that squashes the notion of a fascist dictatorship. I only hope that Liberty has the strength to carry her torch of freedom beyond November. 

Vote Blue if you care about America.

{Read about Project 2025 here.}

Like when my husband brings home two melons and my first thought is doing this for the camera. Completely at odds with our demure coquette summer theme, it’s a badly-needed dose of silliness in a world that seems to be crumbling around us. In what may very well be our last summer of democracy, I urge everyone to live like this is our final gasp of freedom. Who knows what tomorrow may bring? And who is brave enough to ask at this point? Honestly, I’d rather not know.

In such ignorant bliss, I may choose to retire from the current life I live, going into exile like some forgotten Jedi, perhaps to be resurrected for a distant final act in which I might play a supporting part, or simply fading away with the gentle glow of whatever becomes/remains of this website, like the solar echoes of a long-dead star. One’s actual influence is always felt more than seen. 

It seems even the silliest pose for a blog post cannot quell the underlying tones of seriousness the current moment demands. Anyway, suck on these melons – and don’t give up on summer or silliness yet… 

Playing on the song of this summer, it always feels like there is one endless supply of summer time, or in this case summer thyme. It sprawls out ahead of us, with no end in sight, unfurling in bloom and herbal freshness. 

A carpet of thyme, especially in bloom, is a charm that may be found at the edge of a meadow, or the neglected patch of a parking lot divider. Brushing through its mat of pungent leaves, I sense the memory of a spice cupboard surfacing, bringing back fall and winter at a most inopportune moment. This is summer – and it’s only just begun.