In Sickness and Dark Times
We can hunker down at home. We can hit the road. We can do both.
Alas, my Chicago trip didn’t improve last week because my vestibular migraine did not give me so much as a few minutes of relief the entire time I was there. I didn’t leave my Airbnb until check-out on Wednesday.
While part of me wants to complain, “What a waste!” there’s something to be said about being ill and away from home. There are no chores nagging, and in this case, no people or pets. In my comfortable and familiar garden apartment, I spent two days snuggled into a fuzzy blanket on the couch, with comfort TV shows, ample food delivery options, and a bay window for watching the snow.
There are far worse places to suffer through a migraine. And, hopefully the migraine-directed travels are numbered. I saw my doctor today, and she changed the course of my treatment. CJ and I leave for Monterey in a month, and I really hope this condition takes a backseat while we’re there.
I had a few days to recover before CJ’s dad and I made yet another trip to Kansas City over the weekend. Since CJ was busy at their art sale all day, we had time to do the most Kansas City of activities—eat barbeque—with my parents for my mom’s 78th birthday. Brisket French dip and a sweet server at Q39 made for a good time.
After finals week, prepping for the art sale, and packing to come home for winter break, CJ had zero energy for taking in the holiday lights at the Country Club Plaza, one of my favorite nostalgic holiday events. We did get to experience the otherworldly Bartle Hall at night, glowing red and green, before being swallowed by the highway tunnel underneath the suspension bridge.
It seems fitting for this particular holiday season, as the world seems to be melting into molten shit at year’s end. Especially this tragic weekend. Marking the time of our collective exhaustion, anger, and sadness with a landscape that harkens to the future, to change, and to forward movement.
From the inconsequential, like me, hopefully getting some migraine relief after a year of them becoming more of a problem, to the magnificent degree of hate displayed at Bondi Beach, Brown University, and the Reiner home. May it all be a sign that we’ve had enough and demand forward movement away from poison leaders and empty promises.
I’m going to hunker down at home for the holidays. My next travel is in the name of helping my kid develop their best life, one in which they can thrive while creating the whimsy and love of the wild world that is so important to them and at the soul of who they are.
The only other travel I’ve solidified for 2026 is Solid Sound Festival, where I’ll see a performance that will hopefully be a celebration of what has become my life’s work—sharing the continuing impact of Woody Guthrie’s work and philosophy while living it in a way that pisses off the fascists.
A better day is coming.
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A few years ago I stumbled upon a YouTube video about the 4 and 5-star hotels in Singapore they were using for quarantines. I can think of worse places to be sick away from home.
I hope this new treatment plan works out for you. Also, I miss the Plaza lights. So many years, I made the cold trek to the Plaza to watch the lighting ceremony (and witness people doing some stupid things while there).