Two Things

instead of three, plus a woe or two

Happy New Year ha ha ha. I mean, WTAF. I think the last time I wrote you I was cheerfully making black bean soup for some imaginary festive crowds I had in mind, back in December, before I was just fully living on the bewildering surface of moon. And then my mom got sick? And then it was just a totally different life—a life you probably know, from caring for your own sick people, when the world narrows to the quiet kind of sitting by and the runs to the drugstore and the waiting for the on-call doctor to call you back and the comforting of the not-sick but very worried other person (e.g. your dad) and the making of soup and the doing of laundry and the miniature triumph of finding a bite of food your beloved person might be able to swallow. So many half-full mugs of honeyed tea! So many half-full glasses with straws in them! Three-quarter-full bowls with spoons in them! So much pulse oximeter and thermometer and humidifier. So much Ensure and Robitussin and Tylenol and azithromycin. All while sleeping (not sleeping) in my childhood bedroom like a child. Or maybe like a child crossed with a fretful mother.

This was the morning of the day we went urgently down to New York. I had imagined writing to you about the pleasure of sitting together to write thank-you notes. How twee and precious of me! A lifetime ago.

While I was in New York, LA was burning and a hateful, hate-filled person was busy dreaming up the very slew of chaotic and malevolent orders we have, horrified, watched him try to realize this week. But my world had distilled itself to those bites of food, those pulse-ox readings, that project of keeping someone home who desperately wanted to be home. I know you understand what I’m talking about. There was so much aching beauty in it. Fear and weariness too, but not just fear and weariness. Birdy and Michael had come down with me, and after they returned home I missed them and the cats so much. But New York is also where our Ben lives! The luck of that. When I needed a break, Ben met me for dinner. Then Michael came back down as things started to turn slowly healthward, and Ben met us at the movies.

Texting Ben movie-candy options from Target.

He is one of the sunniest people I know, so this was an incredible boon. As was the support of my other New York people. One of my oldest friends in the world walked me around and around Central Park, commiserating and making me laugh. Another old friend (Ali’s brother, if that means anything to you) made me hot chocolate, and I sat with him and one of his lovely children and was supremely comforted. Meanwhile, my friends and family at home checked in constantly, and I felt like the whole world was an ocean of love and what a way to drown.

Birdy and Michael texted me photographs of the Jelly-filled chaos I was missing.

What are the two things? Okay, one is the world’s simplest, plainest custard, made from ingredients you already have on hand. If you are trying to feed someone who simply cannot abide any of the things you’ve already enticingly catalogued—Chicken soup! A softly scrambled egg! Buttered toast! Applesauce! Oatmeal!—try this. It’s basically vanilla pudding, but with a whole egg for fortification. If you grew up with a Russian/Ukrainian grandmother and ever suffered a sore throat while you were at her house, think: gogol mogol (or gugga mugga, as we always thought it was called and which seems, I’m just noting now, to be made with raw egg yolks so no, no, not the same.) You can serve it warm or cold, as most appeals, and some finely cut bananas makes an excellent topping. It makes two servings, quickly, and can also be eaten by people who are perfectly well but in need of comfort and deliciousness.

Cheering Custard for Strength

1 cup whole milk
1 tablespoon cornstarch
2 teaspoon sugar
Pinch of salt
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Put the egg in a small pot and whisk well. Then add the remaining ingredients except the vanilla and whisk well again. Place over medium-low (err on the side of lower) heat and whisk until the mixture starts to simmer and then thickens, knowing it will thicken more as it cools. This will take around 5 minutes from the time the heat goes on, but if it takes less time, go ahead and call it. Whisk in the vanilla and portion into two small bowls. Serve right away or cover and chill.

(Okay, not to be perverse, but I also made Jell-O instant banana pudding last night? And it was insanely good.)

Random unrelated picture of Birdy making gluten-free orecchiette. I milled around critically while the dough was coming together and hated myself for it. It was delicious, of course.

The other thing is two movie recommendations: My Old Ass, which has both a title and premise that appealed to me exactly not at all, but which I loved. And Ghostlight, a gentle and excellent movie about grief, in which the family is played by an actual family. Both of them are streaming. I’d love more recs for good streaming, if you’ve got them.

Stay warm, my lovelies. Stay fierce and gentle and hopeful! Try to do things that ease your sense that life has become impossible for everybody: Calling your elected officials (I am trying to do this twice a week, even if it’s just to thank them for their spinefulness); volunteering where there are people who need something you can offer (also shooting for twice a week); reading the news skimmingly with one eye closed like it’s a horror movie and you don’t have the bandwidth to be scared into paralysis; donating money, if you can, to organizations that are committed to taking care of people and/or to the people themselves who need it; taking care of the people you can actually take care of, including yourself; and noticing all the ways we, and the people around us, are already pushing back. If it won’t do you particular harm, go ahead and eat some Sour Patch Kids and Reese’s Pieces for good measure.

Sending all love to you.

xo