Summer of the Epic Bruise

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Covid has impacted us all. Whether you got the virus, know someone who did, or simply succumbed to the stress of last year by falling down a hill after climbing 3500 feet in 2.5 hours because you were trying to keep up with a 32-year-old military vet. The last group may not be large, but it includes me.

It’s taking a commendable amount of restraint not to post a picture of my epic bruise. Last thing I need is to end up on some middle-aged bruise-porn website. So just imagine a Rothko painting in purple and blue hues down the side of my leg. But even more badass.

Still, I would rather come down hills without a large hematoma on my hip, blood pouring down my leg, and worried hikers asking me if I need first aid. I am impressed that my bones held up so well and thank you, genes. Still I do not recommend testing ones body in this way. If I could go back I would take a moment regroup, be still, stay away from the news, and talk to my body. Ask it questions like, “Do you feel like struggling for oxygen while shuffling through a rock utopia in a heat wave?” If I had, I would have heard a “Fuck no!” So now I have a bruise and a war story.

On the way back to Southern California from Tahoe, I took a route that put me directly in line of the Tamarack Fire. Even as I saw a billowing cloud of smoke emerge from a hellish red landscape and thought about stories of fires that travel football stadium lengths in minutes, I did not turn around. I just drove and imagined the headlines didn’t come across any fire sprinting over the highway, though it’s where my imagination went. “She Chose Pretty Scenery Over I-5” or the more general “Died For Her Instagram Story.” Once I got out of the smoke cloud, I did enjoy the drive. But still…bad choice.

It’s just not a good time to make decisions. The Delta variant seems to be having a party in Los Angeles (thanks to the unvaxed) and every day some part of the world experiences a new kind of weather. The lack of control we have is staggering. Remember when we worried about Y2K?

I wanted to travel out of the state but besides an unwillingness to spend $300 a day on a rental car, the idea of flying around a world full of White Lotus people felt more stressful. So I stay-cationed it in LA with a trip to LACMA (Picasso exhibit has a great “he’s just a misogynist asshole…what can we do?” curation spin) and Glen Ivy spa (lots of conversations about my epic bruise). Neither experience led to any self-inflicted injury and so I count them both as a huge win.

Now that I write about it, I feel that NOT having an epic bruise is weird right now. We have all crashed head first into the hard ground of our oxygen-depleted life on earth in 2021. Fire, flood, or just our own misstep amidst anxiety will lead to some kind of hematoma. Mine is just visible. (DM me for pic.)