IT DIDN'T TAKE long to convince me to watch "Black Doves." When I learned that Ben Whishaw was in it, I had to at least give it a try. It's fun. The show is a seasonal spy caper but also a parable about the invisible labor that women do: when Keira Knightley skillfully takes out an assassin threatening to kill her family while they sleep peacefully unaware upstairs, I was reminded of Chantal Akerman's masterpiece Jeanne Dielman, 23, Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, in which Delphine Seyrig plays a housewife who does sex work in between folding laundry and peeling potatoes.

Speaking of sex work and invisible labor, I went to see the brilliant Maria Bamford perform last Friday. Bamford had a bit that involved interviewing an audience member who was self-employed; she then handed the volunteer a twenty to demonstrate that audience volunteers contribute invisible labor to stand-up comedians. That got a laugh, but the person she happened to choose was a sex worker who had some crazy stories, including one involving a weeklong trip to Iceland with a client. It ended up being a pretty bonkers show; I think Bamford was a little surprised and also fascinated by the volunteer's job and she kept coming back to her to ask her questions about it.

Anyway, labor, invisible or visible, deserves fair compensation and as I write this, I am wondering if the Amazon strike in Skokie will affect the arrival of one of our presents. I support the strike and I'm sure the present's recipient does too, so I'm not that concerned about its timely arrival. I am more concerned that my theme may have run its course, and I don't have a very good transition out of or conclusion for it, so here are some drawings of Rosie.

Three Things That Kept Me Going This Week

1. "The snow lay thin and apologetic over the world," is a line from Susan Cooper's The Dark is Rising and also an apt description of the conditions outside right now. I recently learned of the BBC's radio adaptation of the book, the second in a series of five, and have started listening to it, fittingly, on midwinter eve, which is when the book starts.* The book's hero is about to turn eleven on the solstice, and coincidentally that is also Michaela's birthday. She'll be turning eleven next year so I will definitely be reading this book to her next year—if she still allows me to read books to her at night.
2. It's ballet season, and Michaela is performing in a version of the Nutcracker tomorrow. Balanchine's version still may be my favorite, not least because it's a covert lesson in the history of ballet, starting with court dances, nodding (imprecisely) at folk and ethnic dance, and ending with solos by prima ballerinas. I've been watching Frederick Wiseman's La Danse off and on and it's very soothing to have in the background while you are, say, wrapping presents.
3. Playing with Rosie. She loves chasing balls and (I say this as a proud fur ball mama) has started playing fetch with us, bringing the ball back so we can throw it again and again. It's truly too adorable for words.

I wish you all a very happy Midwinter. Please rest, reset, restore—and repeat as needed.

See you in the New Year.

Love,

Claire

*H/t to Mark Slutsky's "Something Good" newsletter.