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September 5th, 2018

The Red Giant Phase of Gardens

And we’re into that season of giganto veggies as the garden enters its Red Giant phase. Baseball-bat-sized zucchini; baseball-sized tomatoes. I really should have included a cat in this photograph for scale.


Everyone I know is talking about Bob Woodward’s new book, Fear: Trump in the White House.

I think Woodward’s new book sounds boring.

The White House is Crazytown!

Trump is stoooopid.

Is any of this information new to you?


Then why are you so excited about it?

I mean, story after story. News cycle after news cycle. Book after book.

Nobody is in danger of misunderstanding the magnitude of the situation.

I'm sick of the ongoing Ain't It Awful? game.

Stop describing the problem. DEAL with it.


Diana mailed me a bunch of scribbles that Robin drew when he was four years old.

Am I a terrible mother?

I looked at those scribbles and thought, Exactly what am I supposed to do with these?

I mean, I love Robin! And he really was a most magical four-year-old.

But one of the few benefits to losing (literally!) every single thing you own is that you are no longer encumbered with all that documentation. Those birthday cards. Those report cards. Those school projects. Those drawings. All those exhibits in the Museum of Lost Childhood.

You can’t throw them out, of course.

Because if you throw them out, it’s no longer even a question. You really are a terrible mother.

I texted Robin: Just wanted to tell you that I’m thinking about you, that I miss you, that I love you, that I hope everything is going well.

Robin texted back: Hey mother dearest. Love you very much as well and miss you too!

Though I gotta say: This is not a photo of a young man who misses his mother! (Insert smiley face.)

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