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2023-07-25 - 12:42 p.m.

on incompatibility

after day camp, i take the children to the pond in the woods. we find chanterelles and daylily buds and milkweed pods and we catch a fish. the children help make a fire, and then they go pick blackberries and raspberries while i make a meal.

it's like a dream. the cicadas drone high in the trees, and my hair smells like sunshine and woodsmoke. at moments like this, i wish i had a different spouse. someone who could enjoy this.

of course, my spouse wishes i were different, too. he wishes i would dye my grey hairs, dress more feminine, behave in a way that would charm his friends and colleagues.

i do not think he would dare to say he would prefer me to be a better housewife - but he would, really. he'd like me to keep house without visible projects or clutter, where only his things sit around on convenient surfaces and the children's toys are always put away. to pack everyone's lunches and have a good meal on the table every night, and clean up afterward and read the children a bedtime story. to teach a class or two at a local community college, so i won't bother him for intellectual stimulation on topics he does not care about.

i can see the appeal. i can see how this would yield an easy life.

* * *


reading: asian green, by ching-he huang. i feel like this cookbook is made for white people who don't cook much - and i can't say i dislike it. practically everything is full of mushrooms. these recipes will be fun to make with the children, who are learning to use knives and stir things on the hot stove.
listening to: thank goodness for all these youtube videos with titles like 'raining in okinawa,' or 'summer night in osaka.' chill lofi beats for the anxious person.
working on: taking care of our dying cat, and the children, in all this heat.
in the garden: all this rain has leached the soil. hang on, little tomato!


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