Juniper Disco || no. 2
Impeachment, Holly Bushes, Bird Gymnasiums, and Panic Buttons
Greetings and salutations, friends! A huge thank you to those of you who sent me personal notes about the inaugural issue. And a special welcome to new subscribers! We’re so glad you’ve decided to join us.
I’m enjoying this format. I spend way more time writing and less time on the technical aspects associated with posting. I learned a new skill this week, which you will see smattered about this post in abundance — embedding song tracks, tweets, and gram posts. SQUEE!
Also, just a heads up for those of you who are strictly here for the fun: today’s magenta chicken is political. Proceed accordingly.
I wasn’t intending to start off my stories from the vault with this, but I watched the impeachment inquiry hearings last week. So many mixed feelings: relief that smart people who know what they are doing are still showing up and making it work, sadness at watching someone so dedicated to our country’s ideals be treated as human roadkill, and an overwhelmingly weary sense that this could all have been avoided.
Every HR professional has at least two lists of names they will never forget. On one are the people who almost killed them. Mine includes more than my fair share of “Capital N” Narcissists (the disordered ones, not the run of the mill, lowercase individuals), at least one suspected sociopath, and a lifetime’s quota of elite class assholes. They are the reason I had a panic button installed in every office I ever occupied and a well-practiced plan for escaping to safety in the time it would take for someone to reach my office after their imagined first shots were fired at the front desk.
For today, let’s focus on the Capital N’s. The ones on my list all followed the same patterns:
1) an extraordinary ability to stay on just-this-side of the rules, policies, and laws
2) a “buddy” or (a team of “buddies”) pulled into their orbit as an ally who they manipulated to do all the dirty work (they filed the complaints, confronted the co-workers, got in fights, sent the inappropriate emails, said and did the things that could get them fired)
3) a trail of human debris behind them — people who left the organization to get away from them, people they pushed so far that they stepped over the line in reaction to the Capital N’s relentless bullying, and the “buddies” who always, always got burned at some point
4) gaslighting and lying — I always advised HR colleagues who got pulled into resolving issues with the Capital N’s to be impeccable with their process. As soon as the Capital N runs out of people and things to blame and/or no longer finds you useful, they will turn on you. Happened to me every single time. And it is terrifying.
5) an affinity for putting people on blast publicly, whether that be in a meeting or on the front page of the Globe
6) an ability to manipulate people in higher level or critical positions for protection (either by charm or scare tactics)
This all sounds too painfully familiar, right? Imagine having been through this several times and having to watch it all play out in front of you and wanting to scream I TOLD YOU SO! (Don’t think I don’t have a sequined shirt — pressed and ready to go — that says that.)
Psychologists advise that the most effective way to manage a Capital N is to cut them out of your life completely. It was certainly the only viable solution in the workplace in my experience, but to do so without blowing up the whole place required my other 10,000 hour skill: negotiating terms for a clean and uneventful exit.
It seems this particular Capital N has two options right now: 1) stay in office or 2) leave office and go to jail. Whoever the Head Sin-eater in Charge is down there in the muck of DC needs to find option 3): whatever those terms would be for a clean and uneventful exit, for the sake of … just the ENTIRE WORLD.
(The other list? Next time.)
“The Gender Bias Behind Voice Assistants.” This happens ALL THE TIME in our house. Bitch hates me.
“The Ugly, Gory, Bloody Secret Life of NHL Dentists.” You might have to gnaw on your fist when you read this one. “Team doctors reconnected the filleted parts of MacDonald's face with 75 sutures, then sent him home, where he sat on the couch until dawn, jolted awake by even the slightest puff of air passing over a mouthful of raw, exposed nerves.”
“Three Dogs are Helping Rebuild the Chilean Forests Devastated by Fire.” They trained border collies to “run through the damaged forests with special backpacks that release native plant seeds:”
“The Tabloid-Tarnished Legacy of INXS Frontman, Michael Hutchence.” “… had the corrosive cocktail of peak paparazzi, traumatic brain injury and low self-esteem not played out in such dramatic fashion, the future could have been so much brighter for this treasured musician.”
“Mystery Surrounding Long Island Attorney’s Club Med Murder Deepens.” I learned about this horrifying story when I was researching this resort. Needless to say, we’re not going there.
Last week marked the ninth year since my Nana died. She loved birds. She had a pet chicken she pushed around in a baby carriage when she was a child. And Nana had full-on conversations with the robins outside her window. On a stormy weekend, we scattered most of her ashes at Herring Cove. I later hiked out to Hatches Harbor and released the rest at a spot where she could watch the birds who gather there in great numbers towards the end of the summer.
To mark the anniversary, Stephen and I walked over to the holly bush my family donated in her honor through the Trees for Town program. Technically, Stephen isn’t allowed on the property and he never met Nana (he would have loved her— she always had treats in her purse.) I took him with me anyway, half-hoping someone would come out and yell at us just so I could then tell them all about my Nana.
When we got home, I assembled my winter bird sanctuary in the protected shelter of a tree that had fallen over earlier this year — its branches serving as the perfect place to hang feeders of different shapes and sizes. The birds came in droves — blue jays, cardinals, tufted titmice, black-capped chickadees, sparrows, house finches, nuthatches, and even a Northern Flicker.
I watched them all from my “birdwatching couch” that looks out over this bird gymnasium. And I fed Stephen treats while I chatted away at the birds, welcoming them back, and promising to take good care of them this year. Just the way Nana would have done.
COOL STUFF
You can adopt a fabulous rooster rescued from cockfighting. “They are always overlooked because people think they’re mean,” she says. “When it’s people that did this to them.”
Rise: From One Island to Another. Stunning! “Watch this poetic expedition between two islanders, one from the Marshall Islands and one from Kalaallit Nunaat (Greenland), connecting their realities of melting glaciers and rising sea levels.”
Are you watching/reading/listening to …? Wu-Tang: An American Saga. Before you start watching this, know that this is not the entire Wu-Tang story. It’s just the beginning and one that will have you on the edge of your seat wondering how on earth they survived all that to become Wu-Tang. // His Dark Materials. This trilogy of books are some of my very favorites of all time. I’ve long been captivated by the idea of daemons, animal spirits that live outside of your body. They are a million times better than a patronus. Mostly I WANT ONE (actually I kind of do. His name is Stephen.) You can find out what yours would be here: //
What would your dæmon be? Click below to go on the #HisDarkMaterials adventure and find out! https://t.co/hQyrM20gM2
The Biggest Little Farm. The most beautiful, heartbreaking, hopeful movie about a couple who transformed a 200 acre barren field into a biodiverse farm. Everything about this GUTTED me. I sobbed through most of it. //
Pastoral Fantasies Twitter account. Looking for a really sweet, dreamy Twitter account to follow? //
in the fields and in the woods, the spirits are awake - you light a candle on your window sill to guide them safely through the nightyou share a pot of soup with your neighbour and learn that they, too, keep a journal of all the birds they spotLaura Mvula. Sometimes big jazzy, sometimes soul rippingly breathy vocals and a unique orchestra-meets-a-Japanese-xylophone-player-in-the-rain sound. Best listened to while daydreaming. //
Halftribe. Downtempo ambient music from Manchester via Northern Ireland that utilizes field recordings (so lots of birds) — especially "For Summer, or Forever," which reminds me of the now defunct Virgin Atlantic Flying Without Fear app that I refuse to delete off my phone because it helped me SO much in managing my anxiety in the air. //
Yellowstone Sound Library. Note: do not play the sandhill crane sounds when your dog is in the room. Also, elk bugling. //
NPR's Short Wave podcast. Learn about science-y stuff in only 10 minutes like what happens when a whale dies and how freaking SMART crows are. // Season three of Slow Burn: Biggie and Tupac. “How is it that two of the most famous performers in the world were murdered within a year of each other—and their killings were never solved?” Also, I’m drawn to anything featuring Mr. Sean Puffy/P.Diddy Combs. Great storytelling on this one! // “Oakland's Rollerskating Country Singer” episode of Rightnowish. Her latest is decidedly NOT country:
MARK YOUR CALENDARS
The Strangers podcast is set to return! It is now $1/month or $12/year. This is one of my favorite podcasts and I support her efforts to pull away from the machine and go out on her own. Worth WAY more than $12!
The Audubon's 120th Christmas Bird Count starts December 14 (and runs through January 5, 2020. ) Check here to see if there is one near you!
Looking for a little more reflection of real life? Watch the Lifetime holiday movies instead of the Hallmark ones! I really liked Radio Christmas (Rudy from The Cosby Show and Celebrity Big Brother is in it. And she is a DELIGHT! Watch your back, Candice Cameron Bure!)
The Super Mr. and I have an ongoing disagreement about what Stephen would sound like if he could talk. In my (correct) version, he sounds like the sweetest little boy who says “I love you, Mama!” a hundred times a day. The Super Mr.’s (incorrect) version makes him sound like a cranky old queen who swears a lot.
Amazing how we can communicate without a common language. His every look, body position, tail wag, grumbly growl/bark (“hurry up, Mama!”), position in the house (by the frig means “I want cheese but I am willing to accept those awesome chicken broth treats you make me, Mama”) means something different. He has a special routine when he is ready to go to the other side of the dog park and another one when he is ready to leave. He glares at me when The Super Mr. leaves his throw in his favorite spot on the couch. And he will sit and stare at me when he is ready to go to bed — like without blinking and for however long it takes me to get up and go with him.
*Today, Stephen is sporting his brand new fetching red jacket, which he tells me he “loves so much, Mama! It’s the BEST thing you ever bought me. Thank you so much for being the bestest mama in the whole world!” Or in The Super Mr.’s version, “bitch, I look good!”
In case you missed my November Notes from a Clamshell Path, which includes my annual gifting list (and an extra special BONUS Cape Cod makers and sellers gifting list), check it out!
See you after Thanksgiving! Enjoy your time with family and/or friends! Don’t forget your eating pants.