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Liar Liar
By Stephanie Kemp







I sit on a drizzly day at my kitchen table. It is 9:06am. Mount Washington, California.

One kid has gone to school, the other is getting ready. Wednesday is one of her late days. She loves Wednesdays.

I hate them.  

Wednesdays, not the children.

I have just gone on a walk (with my daughter who loves Wednesdays)  and have had a healthy breakfast (all by myself).

You see, the weather tricked me into a feeling of faux Hump Day happiness, as there is actual moisture in the air on this October morning in Southern California, 2021.

For a moment, I forgot about the Oil Spill. The Republicans. The Democrats. The Whistleblower. The Zuckerfuck. Raging Mother Nature. The ShinyMeanColleagues.  The Tingling in my Right Leg. The Virus. The Republicans.

All of the parts of the iceberg that are not the tip.

But then this:

My coffee is cold.  
And, yes/even worse:

I realize that this is a first world problem.

In my current condition I would (will) argue that I should finally acknowledge some of these problems while there is still a first world to face them in.

(It is also an October morning in America, 2021.)

If you met me you wouldn’t see a hater. You’d see the me I try to put out in the world on most days.

You might question my clothing choice or wonder why I won’t get a haircut, but you would probably leave having had a nice conversation. I would try to leave you better than I found you, no matter what state I am in (honestly/actually/other).

This has always been my raison d’être.  
My mode d’emploi.  
My mise-en-scène.

My why am I here?

The problem (as if there is only one) is that I am both my mother and my father’s daughter, and we are completely incompatible and much better apart.

But given that I am one person, in one body, living one life, with a wildly fragmented brain battling a delusionally optimistic heart, everyday is Hump Day.

You can always blame the parents.

And with that,

It is now 9:36.  Daughter is ready to go, even though - now -  I am not.

You can always blame the parents.

In happier news (the optimist always pulls ahead), the adorable token turkey sandwich I prepared and ate between typing “Liar Liar” and “these words now” (because my healthy breakfast left me still hungry) has made me feel slightly better.

Plus I have a microwave and a to go cup for my coffee problem.

See?

Happy Hump Day from what’s left of the First World as the sun peaks out because it always does.

Half Full……ish.
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ps.  I can also blame my friend, Grace.  She was looking for magic this morning and made me:

  1. realize I couldn’t find any, and
  2. angry at myself for phoning some in anyway.           

But,

I will keep looking because she needs and deserves it.

And so do I…………..

Maybe.