Black and Yellow, Black and Yellow
Lessons from Labradors. Plus, KENergy and the Electric Slide.
Maggie, my parents’ black Lab, is 9. Indy, my brother’s yellow Lab, is 12. They are half-sisters, with Maggie being the nudgey younger one who wants all the attention and Indy being the older one who can’t be bothered to growl when her bone is snatched from under her nose. I love them both, and they clearly love each other even if it sometimes means silly sibling ruffery.
I got a glimpse of their interactions this week while dogsitting on Long Island. It’d been a while since I watched after them—and together no less. Maggie lives with my parents and Indy lives with my brother, while I’ve been solo across the Atlantic for the last 9 years. They rarely went away at the same time because, well, who’d watch the dogs? Now that I’m back, off they went and here we stayed.
Time has surely passed for them both. Some of Maggie’s black coat has turned grey. Indy can’t see or hear so well. They both bark—a lot. In witnessing them and their movements over just a few days, during which I was recovering from a nasty bout with what I think was RSV, I began to see bits of myself in each of them.
Since returning to the U.S. from Paris last month I’ve had Maggie-like moments of energy and motivation. I’ve spent quite a few days tapping away at my keyboard with a feverish excitement; my proverbial tail wagging away with the hopes of possibility regarding potential job opportunities and connections. I’ve sent introductory emails and LinkedIn invitations and jumped at the chance to meet with this person and that person like Maggie does at her 7a.m. bowl of food that she drools over and gobbles down in seconds. No slobber on my end, thankfully. But the salivation is there. I want it. I need it. I have to have it.
And there have been as many days where I’ve shrugged it off like Indy, wondering if any of it is worth the effort. After an unexpected financial setback in Paris, and rejections from prospective employers—not to mention being sick AGAIN—it’s hard not to be like, ‘Meh, I think I’ll just lay down and take a nap now.’ Like Indy, whose sight is sadly failing her, I sometimes feel adrift as I pack and unpack bags here and there, unsure where I’ll be a month from now let alone six. I bark and I bark and I bark, but few people seem to understand what I can offer them, to give me some belly rubs or even a quick ear scratch. Give a girl an ear scratch, will you?! (I gave Indy plenty don’t worry. And then, naturally, Maggie butted her head in for some, too.)
At only three years apart, the two dogs now seem wildly different than they did in years past. And yet, they’re also still very much the same lovable, slightly predictable, and appreciative bitches. In which case, if life itself is a bitch then tout va bien.
Bon week-end, friends. xx — Sara
Clickable
The legacy media reckoning has, sadly, come. | The New Yorker
A fond farewell to a top chef of French cuisine, David Bouley. | Esquire
Even the writer of Beaches cries while watching it. | Vulture
The scam of all scams. | The Cut
‘Do what’s possible’ — with a walk. | WaPo
A restaurant’s playlist is just as important as the food. | The NY Times
Whatever happened to the ‘gay best friend’? | T Magazine
Russian swindlers in London. | The New Yorker
Watchable
If you haven’t felt the KENergy from Ryan Gosling’s performance at last Sunday’s Oscars, here’s your chance. He may not have taken home the award, but he definitely won the show. Everything from his bedazzled pink suit and starting the song in the audience (behind Barbie/Margot Robbie and in front of fellow nominee Billie Eilish, no less) to his being lifted by fellow Kens alongside giant Barbie heads and then crooning with legendary guitarist Slash, made it an absolute (and absurd) joy to watch.
On the opposite end of the spectrum in terms of feels—and yet, from the same film—Billie Eilish and Finneas’ duet of “What Was I Made For?” which did win Best Song, gave me goosebumps. It was almost other-worldly.
Currently Overthinking…
…dogsitting rates…how long it takes for RSV to clear the system…how much cough syrup is too much cough syrup…
Souvenir: the Electric Slide
I went to a Bar Mitzvah last weekend. One of my best friend’s kids was called to the Torah and, naturally, there was a big celebratory party after. This was no traditional synagogue simcha, though. It was held in a warehouse in Brooklyn where indecipherable hip-hop played throughout the night. (With one Taylor Swift song thrown in for good measure!) It made me wistful for the iconic, ’70s “boogie woogie woogie” line dance, the Electric Slide. Funnily enough, I don’t think I ever saw this video for it; I just learned the dance at a wedding or Bar or Bat Mitzvah circa the early ’90s and it’s been implanted in my brain ever since. Who remembers doing the Electric Slide? Does anyone still give it a go?