Himmelhoch much? It's all high highs and low lows

The Germans always know. Also: driver's tests, amazing catches and a new test for keeping or tossing stuff

Hello! DTMS took a brief break to attend to some life things, such as moving houses, but we are back, just in time for summer. This week, we’re discussing obscure driving laws, extreme ups and downs of life and German words, and the sheer thrill of catching something that’s falling in the moment. You know it will all make sense.

Let’s get rolling.

Things that don’t make sense

Driver’s permit test questions. My 15-year-old daughter is currently studying for her driver’s permit, which means that we’re all being asked detailed questions about the rules of the road. While I support permit tests and other measures to ensure people know how to drive, I also maintain that most people could not pass a DMV test without studying, because the questions are exceptionally random. For example, do you know what to do if you’re driving behind a person on a horse and the rider raises their right hand? I would guess: wave back at them. WRONG. The right answer is to stop your car because the raised hand means their horse is in distress (h/t to my friend Kay, who got stumped by this one when she moved from Missouri to Oregon. I see you). As I was telling a bartender about the inanity of these questions the other night, she told me about the question that stumped her: What do you do when someone is driving toward you with their brights on? I said flash your brights to alert them. WRONG AGAIN. Do I even have a driver’s license? The DMV advises looking to the right so you don’t get blinded. Smart. But the bartender said she was scared to flash her brights at an oncoming car. That’s because she saw a horror movie in which people did that, and then the driver of the other car chased them down and killed them. Is that on the permit test, because it feels important.

Grief and joy. The past month has been a whirlwind of fun and exciting news for our family. As I wrote about in my previous post, I sold my first book to a publisher! We are also about to move into a new house that we’ve been building for the past year. But amid a month when I assume I’d be walking around with a perma-smile, I’ve also found myself overcome with grief about my mom’s Alzheimer’s. I’m sad that she’s unable to engage with these milestones. I miss talking to her on the phone while I cook dinner. I’ve been listening to "How’s It Going to Be (When You Don’t Know Me Anymore)," which is not about Alzheimer’s, but still tracks, and then crying and laughing because that’s a ridiculous thing to do. Third Eye Blind is not that good. If I were riding a horse, I might raise my right hand, though let’s be honest, the horse is fine. I recognize that this is all normal. It’s so normal that the Germans have a word for it: himmelhochjauchzendzutodebetrübt. That translates to soaring to the heavens with joy, while also being saddened to death. So, you know, just another Wednesday. I am laughing very hard as I write this. Grief is weird.

Ginny and Georgia. As long as we’re talking about mothers and daughters, I’d like to take a small diversion to say that my daughter and I binged Season 3 of Ginny and Georgia. Slate says that after the internet deemed the first two seasons of this show “trash TV,” it’s now good. Perhaps even “prestige TV,” like “Gilmore Girls but with more boobs.” I guess my only question is whether you die from plot holes? Because someone send over the crash cart. Small spoiler alert: I like moral ambiguity as much as the next person, but should we just be murdering people? And framing people? And lying under oath? Teenage love is part of this show’s endgame, but I’m more worried about the kind of ignored little brother who needs not just a lot of therapy but perhaps a new family. When the show finished, my daughter had tears running down her cheeks as she gave me a big hug and said, “I’m glad you’re not a serial killer.” So, win? Have you watched Ginny and Georgia? What did you think?

It’s a lot.

Things that make sense

Catching things. My son is working at a nice restaurant this summer. During one of his first shifts, he was walking through the bar when a woman knocked her cocktail off the table. He caught the drink, right side up, and handed it back to her—unspilled—in a moment that I so wish I could have witnessed. The feat earned him a $20 tip, and I’m certain he’ll be chasing that high for the rest of his life. There’s something about catching things that is so satisfying. Writing for Defector, David Roth said, “It is the nature of a really good catch to make you feel like what you've just seen is the coolest thing ever to happen.” He was talking about Athletics outfielder Denzel Clarke’s epic catch in a baseball game last month. But I think Roth’s sentiment applies to any catch. In fact, after I relayed this story to my cousin, he told me he has a text thread in which he and his friend report when they’ve made amazing catches. As someone who ducks when you throw me the car keys, I may never know this particular height of joy—the himmelhoch if you will. However, if you make an outstanding catch, I want to know about it immediately.

If you knock this over, I know someone who can catch it. Photo by Cory Bjork on Unsplash

Doing hard things just once. I was telling a dear friend about my ups and downs regarding my mom, and frankly, looking for a bit of advice on how to navigate it all. My friend, who lost her parents far too soon, told me about how her beloved uncle had pulled her aside when her own mom was dying, acknowledged the pain of losing your mother, and said, “The good news is that you only have to go through it once.” Once she said it, we stopped on the sidewalk and laughed for a minute. It’s a simple thought. It’s a small comfort, but somehow the thought of just doing this one time made me feel better.

So much stuff. A statistic circulating on the internet claims that the average American family has 300,000 things. As someone who recently packed up her house, I can say that this seems accurate. For the first 10 to 1,000 things, I was meticulously labeling boxes like the uber-organized person I’ve always dreamed of being. However, for the next, 1,000 to 200,000 items I tried to employ the new version of the Marie Kondo “does this spark joy?” test, which is, “if this had dog poop on it, would I clean it off or just throw it away?” It’s a brilliant hack. Too many things spark joy—I love a tiny bowl and the thought of my far-off grandkids playing with some leftover Legos and the bath bombs I got four years ago that I’m still planning on using. But if my dog had an explosive accident on any of these items? Byeeee. I’m sad to say that most of my children’s elementary school artwork did not meet this bar. Also, by the last 100,000 things, I was toasted and packed a box with drink coasters, a lamp shade, and a basket of dog toys and labeled it “living room stuff.” I’m sure we’ll know what that means in three weeks. How do you organize/get rid of things?

Daisy is judging our stuff.

Book things

Timelines and to-do lists. My debut novel, Talented and Gifted, has a tentative pub date of early 2027. This seems like a lifetime away, and yet, there’s a lot to do, including another revision with my new editor, getting up to speed on marketing, learning from other debut authors, and getting a solid start on a second book. I’m currently following several debut authors on Substack, but if you have any recommendations for people or newsletters offering advice, guidance, or insights into the publishing process, please send them my way.

That’s it for this week. With a holiday weekend rapidly approaching, I’m hoping you only have himmelhochs, catch anything thrown at you, and never actually have to wash poop of anything. Gross.

Thanks for reading!

Kelly