When I published The Atlantic group chat some people weren't pleased

When I published The Atlantic group chat some people were not too pleased about it. I was exposing toxic bosses and sexism and hypocrisy — as opposed to catastrophic breaches of national security — but tomato, tomahto. I took my post down after someone’s wife got in my dm’s and begged me to delete it, even though I was in the right, so I can understand why you’d exit the group chat once you realized you were being exposed to top secret government information. Everyone has their own moral compass to follow, I suppose. My only takeaway is if anyone expects anything to come of The Atlantic’s latest exposé perhaps they should send in the wives to finish the job — they would probably be more effective than our government leaders. Anyway.

The kid arrived home in Amsterdam safe and sound with no fuckery, so that’s a huge relief. Thank you all so much for your kind words of support and comfort. We’ll hope for the best on future border crossings and take it as it comes. I’m spending the week smothering the kid with affection and baked ziti. There’s only so many times you can say “I’m so glad you are home, I love you so much” to a teenager before they reach their limit and escape to the sanctity of their bedroom, and so it has come to pass. It’s fine though, I’m lying in wait with open arms and delicious meatballs.

Today we biked out to the Amsterdamse Bos (the forest on the outskirts of Amsterdam) to have a picnic under the cherry blossoms. The cherry blossoms are in nearly peak bloom and it was lovely. I was huffing and puffing the whole ride out there though. I haven’t been riding my bike much this winter, preferring instead to walk or take public transpo, but the weather is clearing up so it’s time to get the old legs in shape. I haven’t caved and bought an e-bike or a Phatbike yet. If I had an extra 10 thousand euros I’d buy a Biro — I’ve wanted one ever since I laid eyes on them when we first moved here — and I’d tool all over town in it like all the other Oud Zuid ladies, but I don’t have an extra 10 thousand euros, and I also don’t have a Dutch driver’s license and you need one to drive a Biro ever since they got banned from the bike lanes so I’ll just keep pedalling away on my omafiets (grandma bike). It’s fine. I like it.

If I had an extra 10 thousand euros I’d buy a Biro and I’d get a big dog and the two of us would tool all over town together, happy as clams.

I’m taking a Pilates class tomorrow and I’m nervous about it. I’ve only taken Pilates one other time and it was a disaster —it was one of those large, loud group classes and even though it was a beginner’s class the instructor only spent about a minute giving me an overview of the apparatus machine before he launched into a ludicrous high paced routine and everyone in the class was a 23 year old Dutch woman with legs that are 6 feet long and I am built like a baked potato and I was pretty sure I was going to break myself before the class was over so I decided that Pilates was not for me, but then I found a class that’s (allegedly) geared for older women of all fitness levels and body types, and it’s a small class and the first class will be a one on one — just me and the instructor, and it did not cost a billion euros so we shall see how it goes.

Friday night we’re going to play Wyrmspan with the kid and their friends and one thing you may not know about me is I am ridiculously competitive and most of my friends and extended family refuse to play games with me because if I don’t win I’m a pill, but I’m going to win, I’m good at Wyrmspan, so it will be fine. You’d think I’d be cooler about playing games and competition, but I am not. I can’t help it, it’s something in my DNA. I’ve been like this since I was a wee bairn and I haven’t gotten any better about it in middle age. I’m a monster. When I was visiting my sister and her family in California earlier this month we went to Top Golf for my nephew’s 11th birthday and I’d never played Top Golf before but it turned out I was really good at it and I started to win and my competitive streak kicked in and I announced to my small nephew that I was going to kick his ass and I was only sort of joking. Then I did kick his and everyone else’s ass.

So maybe don’t invite me to play Top Golf.

xoxo