Everything is Lobster

I think about the lobster a lot. Not about eating it, necessarily. (But definitely sometimes about eating it. Favorite lobster roll? Saltie Girl in Boston. Warm with butter.)

If you’ve never read the modern North American history of the lobster, do.

It’s like this-ish: Indigenous peoples harvested lobster for food and fertilizer for forever. It was plentiful. Colonists arrived and needed help so the Natives clued them in that those horrifying demon sea bugs were, in fact, delicious. Et voila: “The New England Lobster bake.”

It wasn’t all good PR for the lobster in colonial culture, though. It was such a plentiful (and cheap) source of calories that at one point it was seen as “trash food”. When it was served too frequently in prisons, inmates rioted to have their lobster intake limited to no more than twice weekly.

Fast forward and the demon bug is, as with many arthropods over time and history, a sign of indulgence, abundance, luxury, and, even, finding true love.

Isn’t it wild how our perception of a thing just changes with the context of history? Cycles of understanding, misunderstanding, misuse, and acceptance.

Maybe everything is, in some way, a bit like lobster.

My personal handwashing is up year over year by at least 300%. It may be higher or lower but, emotionally, 300% feels about right.

It also feels correct to estimate that in addition to handwashing, a majority of personal habits have fluctuated wildly when compared to the Before Times.

Sleep? Easily 20% up on average.

Time spent worrying about work? Down 100% most days, but occasionally spikes up.

Makeup usage? Down 95% on average, but with an occasional lip moment.

Face mask usage (the skincare kind)? Up 50%.

Face mask usage (the humanity-care kind)? Up >100%.

Frivolous spending? On its own emotional rollercoaster. When I took my severance check on sheer panic shopping spree (a $250 vape, a $50 bidet), it was way up. But then, as rollercoasters do, it came back down and I cancelled my Amazon Prime subscription.

So, when my typical stockpile of fancy soaps and lotions and potions and things from the Before Times began running low, I had a long and very compelling pep talk with myself.

We talked about reigning it in and simplifying, spending the time to find the good shit but also a bargain, and (ideally…) finding products that were as natural, simple, and long lasting as possible. But, I am me and naturally still demand luuxxxurrrryy. Take my financial security, but not my facial oils!

It’s only in the last few years that I enjoy spending time to research purchases, having somewhat seen the error of my impulse shopping ways. This new skillset has really come in handy in 2020. By spending time to think about the problem a new thing will solve, the outcome is that I generally have fewer, higher quality things that I genuinely enjoy and actually use to make everyday activities fun. A life-long lover of the frivolous, I am a newer lover of the beautiful and practical. An example? I couldn’t have predicted that in 2020 I’d be stoked about a German duster, broom, and dustpan but here we are.

And now I’m also that person who won’t shut up about soap.

This particular olive oil based soap from Marseille keeps my hands and nails feeling satisfyingly supple and moisturized. A vigorous rubbing (i.e. a 20-second hand rub where I imagine literally anyone else is doing the rubbing) actually leaves them feeling extra loved. This magical Marseillais soap is also a wonder for hand-washing laundry (i.e. face masks) and, I think probably due to the olive oil content, a true champ at getting out oil-based stains (i.e. chicken finger grease). One $10 cube cut it into two smaller blocks (one for the kitchen sink, one for the bath) has lasted nearly six months and my supply is still going strong and I’m never going back to the shit I used before.

I mean, I guess *none* of us are going back to the shit that was before. So, yes, let’s just say good riddance, wash our hands of it, and try something new and better.

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Main image: Bomb ass nail artistry always by @nail_stoned at Nail Art Revival

A very dear and very fabulous friend lives at the beach in LA. Being at her place always feels like vacation. The Pacific Ocean is just down the hill and the glorious sun is usually shining. If we’re working, the work feels light.

At the beach house there’s a crystal chandelier over the dining table and on those frequent sunny days, for a brief part of the late afternoon as the sun drops toward the ocean, it catches the light rays and millions of tiny sparkly rainbows appear on the bright white interior.

The explosion is thrilling and glorious to behold. It also tends to immediately precede the moment we decide to turn it up and pop the Veuve Rosé, which the beach house always seems to have in stock.

It feels like a very special reminder to stop and appreciate a moment in time. And to feel gratitude that someone took such care to create that treat of a moment and to celebrate her, and us. 

Treat (noun):  an event or item that is out of the ordinary and gives great pleasure.

So, in an attempt to recreate a tiny sliver of the beach house experience, I got my own crystal. Just one – not even an entire chandelier – and it hangs in a window that sees sun far less frequently than the beach house does. But when the sun does decide to shine, I watch the rainbows, think of my friend, and decide what fabulous treat comes next.

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Main image and video: photo in pink frame copyright homegirl since ‘93 Ashley Sophia Clark

I found myself using the dictionary a lot in 2020. It felt like a good time to get precise with words. 

For example, I used to say, when asked, that my long-term professional goal was “retirement.” We’d laugh, but now it feels like I just wasn’t in on the joke.

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retirement, n.

The state or condition of having left office, employment, or service permanently, now esp. on reaching pensionable age; the period of a person’s life after retiring from office or employment.

Also: the state of having withdrawn permanently from one’s usual sphere of activity.

Oxford English Dictionary

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Isn’t it wild to use words all the time without knowing their actual definition?

What is “pensionable age” when there is no such thing as a pension?

“Having withdrawn permanently from one’s usual sphere of activity.”

What if my sphere of activity is something I actually enjoy?

Why does retirement suddenly sound more like being put out to pasture than a life of glamour, fluffy white dogs, and martini lunches on the lanai?

It got me thinking about my ancestors and how “retirement” definitely wasn’t even a thing for them, let alone a 401k, and about how this is still true for most people today.

Long story short: I stopped saying that “retirement” is my goal.

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During quarantine, for lots of reasons, I frequently had the word “vacation” on the mind.

Sure I wanted to be on a vacation just to escape quarantine hell. But I spent more time thinking about how I always want to be on vacation, present dumpster fire aside, and how I should probably be sure I knew exactly what that meant:

va·ca·tion/vāˈkāSH(ə)n,vəˈkāSH(ə)n/

noun

1. NORTH AMERICAN an extended period of leisure and recreation, especially one spent away from home or in traveling

2. the action of leaving something one previously occupied.

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Though not surprised at the temporary and reactive sentiment, this still isn’t exactly the definition vibe I had in mind.

Especially one spent away from home – as if retreating from something intolerable?

Common synonyms for vacation are words like retreat, getaway, escape.

Get away???

*Escape from WHAT?* 

Are we working even more so that we can, one day, take a vacation from that work? What exactly are we buying in to?

Look, I spiraled because I’ve been there.

Vacation usually feels like a band-aid that gets ripped off too soon, still oozy and tender. And most folks don’t even get the privilege of a band-aid.

So why does it have to be that way?

What if, instead, vacation could be the rule and not the exception? The vacation we *really* need is the one we only occasionally depart, and then only for the most necessary, if unpleasant, business: a protest, a pap smear, a breakup.

If I could write my own definition – and I suppose I can – vacation wouldn’t actually require us to go anywhere and it wouldn’t be inaccessible to anyone.

The rule, not the exception.