Well that was a surprise. She showed up in the dream. We made pies. We had pleasant conversation. I miss her. I am sad.

Was the shorts.

Jordan Marsh’s Blueberry Muffins warmed with a big smear of Sonoma Clover butter. Coffee.

I don’t want to go.

But I have to go.

I just want to make home, have a beautifully curated home, eat good cheese, eat ice cream with the kids.

How will I make art today? How will I bring my version of art to work today?

I’d rather it stay slow in this kind of heat.

When people act this way I wonder: “Who hurt you?” “Who was your mother?” “How do you even have friends?” “How does it feel okay to talk to another person like this?” “Did no one ever tell you that golden rule to treat others the way you want to be treated?” “This is what’s wrong with our society: not enough empathy, not enough sympathy, not enough compassion.”

I think, maybe, sometimes, people just don’t want a little black girl to tell them “no.” No one likes to be told “no.”

I have to find a way of letting it go, of remember that it was only 3 of the 40 people I dealt with today who had a problem with me. So focus on the 37 who said “thank you” and gave you a smile.