Archives August 2026

Everything sucks right now. And then Dolly Parton died. How can we go on?

Multiple therapists, pundits, and Dear Abby say that one way to feel better is to go out in “nature.” This seems logical, but here is the rub: What exactly is nature? Is it your backyard, where the kid next door might lob a basketball over the fence and hit you in the head? That is neither calming nor renewing.

So is nature just going outside and taking a walk? Walks are fine, depending on where you are walking. Again, walking on a sidewalk could mean dodging scooters, hearing horns honking, stubbing your toe on uneven pavement, or stepping in dog poop.

Is nature a park? Nice. But parks have walking trails with ticks.

So if you want to get out in official nature, you have to get in a car, train, or plane, and go to the forest, a national park, or wilderness area. This requires time, hiking boots, bear spray, bug repellent, and physical fitness. You could feel unfettered and free, looking at the clouds, but trip over a root and sprain your ankle. Or you could be bitten by an insect and get a gigantic welt. In real nature, there is WILDLIFE. I am not a fan of wildlife, no matter how cute that marmot is. Snakes. Snakes are in nature. And if you go far enough into nature there are bears, big cats, and wolves. Oh yeah, ticks too.

If you go far enough out there, you have to pitch a tent. Then you have to cook dinner on a meager flame, opening a can of beans and threading a weenie on a stick. Which gets burned and tastes more like ashes than a hot dog. And who wants to pee in the woods and get poison ivy on their private parts? This makes you feel more peaceful and optimistic?  

Nature can be hot, wet, muddy, humid, or it can be cold, windy, rainy, stormy, or dark. Yes, with ticks. Who wants to go out there? I know people who have said they spent their entire childhoods outside. Those people may find nirvana outside someplace, but those people are mostly the ones on Survivor.

As far as I am concerned, nature is uncomfortable, dangerous, overrated, and the least peaceful place a person can go. For inner peace in trying times, I vote for the Dairy Queen.

I am such a reader that if I got paid for it, I would be an extremely rich person. Unfortunately, I am not paid, but that doesn’t stop me. Nothing stops me unless my Kindle runs out of juice.

Guess what? I just came across a list of books that one can read in ONE DAY. This is fantastically convenient for busy people. Are you busy?

Then let me help you:

• The Invention of Morel, by Adolfo Bioy Casares, translated by Ruth L. C. Simms
• Of Mice and Men, by John Steinbeck
• Animal Farm, by George Orwell
• The Hound of the Baskervilles, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
• The Postman Always Rings Twice, by James M. Cain
• Passing, by Nella Larsen
• The Stranger, by Albert Camus
• Pedro Paramo, by Juan Rulfo, translated by Margaret Sayers Peden
• The Awakening, by Kate Chopin
• In Watermelon Sugar, by Richard Brautigan
• The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man, by James Weldon Johnson
• Death in Venice, by Thomas Mann, translated by Henry Heim
• We Have Always Lived in the Castle, by Shirley Jackson
• A Single Man, by Christopher Isherwood
• Cane, by Jean Toomer
• Giovanni’s Room, by  James Baldwin
• O Pioneers! by Willa Cather
• Bonjour Tristesse, by Francoise Sagan, translated by Irene Ash
• Billy Budd, Sailor, by Herman Melville

I have not myself read many of these, but I very much appreciate this handy list.

This list is courtesy of Lit Hub https://lithub.com

It’s the economy. The Strait of Hormuz. Egg prices, gas prices, and you know, everything. We all are clutching our wallets, full of anxiety. Yet life seems to go on, at least in America. However,  we are saving money on lettuce.

Seriously, money is tight. What can be done? We can get out a sheet of paper, or if tech literate, open an Excel doc, and develop a budget. This isn’t something I want to do, but it is weighing on me: how many tee shirts can I buy if the ones I have all have grease spots?

I discovered in my news feed that I can do LOUD BUDGETING. It sounds much more fun than doing the math to analyze how exactly we spend each month on various categories like food, rent, gas, entertainment, and utilities. Loud budgeting is, in the vernacular, telling all your friends what you can’t afford. You can Google it; there is a much more technical definition that involves your accountant and a “conversation,” but as a non-technical person who wouldn’t know our accountant if I fell on him, I am now going to announce to all of you friends out there what I can’t afford. You know, like going with you to Paris.

• I can no longer afford to throw away a used Baggie. Turn that sucker inside out, wash it, and use it at least one more time. Or, stop buying Baggies completely and just wrap leftover food in a damp cloth, the way our Grandmas did, or Ma on Little House on the Prairie. But on the prairie there were probably not many leftovers, I reckon.
• I can’t afford a shirt from L. L. Bean that costs $65 dollars. For a plain old blue shirt? You can get one of those from a thrift store for $3. Of course, there is also an article in my Google feed that says getting thrifted clothing is dangerous, because no matter how much you wash them, they might have cooties. True, I guess. If Clorox can’t kill Cyclospora, then it surely can’t kill cooties.
• Go on a cruise? Are you kidding? All that money to get Norovirus?
• You know what’s too expensive? Cat food. My cat eats dry food that is $50 a bag. But she throws up the kind of kibble that I can get at the grocery store, so I have to get special food that has salmon in it. You do what you have to do when it comes to the ruling member of the family. Buy the kibble and not the caviar (side note: I despise caviar, but it is such a good example).
• Cashmere. I cannot afford it. Luckily, wearing it gives me hot flashes.
• Oh, gosh. I want a facelift. UM, no.
• I could go on and on. My favorite flip flops are $95!!

There it is-right out loud. There are many other things I can’t afford, like new Uggs, that really nice linen blouse, anything from Pottery Barn, Ralph Lauren, and, sorry Ina, “Good olive oil.”

Luckily, I can still afford