I have swiss cheese memory. It’s not always been this way, at least, not to my recollection. I was always able to remember phone numbers and faces and yes, even the names of the people I used as a body blanket for the night. In this year of, as Joan Didion calls it, magical thinking, however, I have been loopy in the area of remembering things. On Monday, The Teenager hosted her monthly show at UCB East; we got to the theatre a bit early. So, we went to the pharmacy to get me throat lozenges and then, wandered into the yarn store across the street from the theatre. I’m a knitter and I can not walk into a yarn store without formulating a project in mind, as I salivate over yarn. The Teenager noted she needs a pink scarf, and we were off to the races. She chose a yarn, I purchased, she asked to use the rest room, she was denied (yarn store people are notoriously not-nice), I waited for the yarn to be wound into neat little balls while The Teenager ran to UCB to use the rest room. Done and done! I felt so pleased with myself, that I now had a new project to keep me entertained while I watch whatever is streaming on my monitor. We did the show–Janeane Garofalo, Aparna Nancherla, Naomi Ekperigin and Todd Barry were the comics for this month–, it was a packed house (sold out!), and everyone killed. Afterwards, I said my goodbyes to the house manager and the TD, and off I went into the night.

Except I forgot the yarn.

Exactly. Yes, I could say that, well, I got caught up talking to my friends and catching up with Naomi and Janeane and Aparna, but, I still managed to have my camera with me, and whatever else I was carrying. Yeah, I forgot my yarn.

When my father died, my friend Katie told me that she’d been told your mind loses track of things in the wake of deaths. And I suppose this is what’s happening. I’m losing track of the trivial, as my mind is mired in the nuance. I suppose I should let myself off the hook. But I don’t want to.

CARRIE AND GARY

Carrie Fisher. HuffPo refers to her as the “original feminist princess.” There are so many tributes to her, personal as well as online. I don’t know any one who doesn’t have a Carrie Fisher story, whether it be of seeing Princess Leia for the first time or seeing her with Liz Lemon on 30 Rock or meeting her in real life. She’s impacted so many of us and her passing, on a public level, is very personal. This is a Princess who showed me that you could be a Queen.

There is hope, Obi Wan. In the way of the vibrator market. Apparently, more of us will be purchasing them.

In the past year, two teenagers my daughter knew had clinical depression and sadly, committed suicide. It was unnerving, for all the obvious reasons. For me, it triggered a chain reaction of loss–my best friend took her life in 2001–and opened up a long-closed window. Depression impacts millions. And becomes something that, as we age, we confront head on. It’s something to stay mindful of, for yourself, and for the people in your life.

I have lately become obsessed with David Rees‘ Best Of 2016 lists, which includes Top Ten Spaghettis, Sex and Lettuce, in addition to the usual Songs and Scandals lists.

Sheryl Sandberg and Gloria Steinem talk to National Geographic. About you know, lady things.

Some dude has advice for Governor Kate Brown. Because of course he does.

Shocker! Who makes the least amount of money, other than housewives (who don’t earn actual dollars but have all the sense)? Oy. Also, in the food industry, black women earn 42 cents on the dollar of her white male counterpart.

Sigh.

And now, have a laugh with Wanda Sykes.