The HBO series “Somebody Somewhere,” which concludes its first season this Sunday, tells the story of Sam, a middle-aged woman who has returned to her Kansas hometown to care for an ailing sister. The story begins after the death of his sister, with Sam adrift in a state of mourning. A motley group of new friends and chants helps her cope.
It’s something that Bridget Everett, the actress and entertainer who plays Sam, can relate to, to a point. Ms. Everett is also from Kansas and singing is her thing. But she remains on the Upper West Side, where she has lived since 1997.
Ms Everett, now 49, is known for her regular appearances at Joe’s Pub. Backed by her band, the Tender Moments, she performs as a Chardonnay foodie-turned-blues singer-turned-quasi-burlesque vamp who buries the faces of audience members into her bosom while sharing stories of heartbreak and longing. Patti LuPone, among others, is an avid fan. Ms. Everett’s next set of shows are scheduled for the end of March.
COOKIES, SHOW MUSIC Around 8 am, 9 am, I ride during the day, then go back to sleep for an hour and a half. Sunday morning we have the Zoom family. My brothers and sister. We started it pre-pandemic. I make myself a cup of coffee and order breakfast. I just discovered Harlem Biscuit Company. They have this chive cookie with chicken and an egg and gravy. Sometimes I order something on the side, an extra cookie with a different filling. I don’t eat everything. But it’s nice to see him there.
You know, when you talk to your family, you have to do something to relieve the stress. My mother, Freddie, who is in a nursing home in my hometown, will connect. For the first three minutes, she is very full of energy and quickly slips into a catatonic state. She will always sing. She likes “Hello, Dolly!” .
FARMER MARKET FUNK Before I even leave my apartment, I put on headphones. I try to avoid conversation in general. I’m really into Milton Wright, 1970s funk and soul, rare stuff. For the past two weeks, I’ve been listening to a lot of my own songs, trying to remember them. I grab my tote and head to the Natural History Museum for the Farmer’s Market. I don’t like crowds, so I try to get in and out quickly. I go for She Wolf Bakery. Jessica Seinfeld posted a loaf on Instagram. I was influenced. I receive old, multicolored vegetables and eggs, promise myself to eat better, to do better, to live better. What have I become? Not too long ago it was like, just Two-Buck Chuck and a bag of Wonder.
LOVE POPPY My first dog, Poppy, passed away. She was my best friend and my guide. She was a former sex worker and shut down when I first met her, but loving. That’s what I want: a dog with a tragic past who wants to love. We must save each other. I can’t have a dog with a whole lot of zest for life, because that’s just not where I am. And I can’t stop starting over, finding that kind of love. So I’m on Petfinder, OC Pom Rescue, SoCal Pom Rescue, Recycled Poms, all looking. It’s an obsession.
QUEEN BEE I have a terrace, a small sofa and I rest my feet. I check in with friends. I play Spelling Bee to improve my brain function. I’ve only been Queen Bee twice. I’m going to soak up some vitamin D, nature’s gift. My neighbor’s dog, Arlo, is coming. I love it. He sniffs my crotch, then we sit together and bask in the sun. Like a boyfriend. It’s a mix of dogs. He is tall. I prefer small, compact, fluffy.
WALK AND TRACK I have to incorporate these steps. I actually put my Fitbit on first because I don’t want to be credited for the movements my body is inflicting on itself. I’m going to Riverside Park. It is a step and a rod. I light up the steps of 83rd Street. My chill is watching dogs. And on Sunday, it’s not better. Everyone has their beautiful angels there. My theory is that if you want to have a beautiful, fluffy little dog, you need to share that beauty with the world.
PERSONAL TOUCH I’m doing a manicure and a pedicure at Cindy’s, my old neighbor. Cindy’s is the closest human contact I’ve had in the past two years. As a single person, you know, it’s nice to have someone to shake your hand a bit. Sometimes I treat myself to spa package B, the hot stones.
A BIG JAR Around 4 p.m., I go to this butcher, Hudson & Charles. They introduced me to these ancient Rancho Gordo beans. I make a big pot. I love smells. I love the ritual. I like knowing I can do it because before the pandemic I didn’t know how to cook. I learn.
INSPIRATION At sunset, I set the mood. I have Poppy’s garden on my coffee table, her ashes and her little ceramic paw print, a few candles. I give her flowers, something pretty like peonies. “OK, Poppy girl,” I said. “Mom loves you.” I used to have dinner at 5 o’clock because I completely became my mother. Now I push it to 6. I put on documentaries. “Free Solo”, “100 Foot Wave”, all sorts of triumphs of the human spirit, as I lay on the couch staring at a box of ashes.
AT JIM AND LARRY’S Once it gets dark, I’m allowed to eat a little, that is, a martini. Alternatively, I’m part of a songwriter group once a month. You have to write a song and a hook. It’s at my friends Jim and Larry’s. Larry is Maison Larréon. He makes all my dresses. This is where I let my hair down. Otherwise I am a homebody. I always bring something like a bottle of Ketel One, so we can have “mini marts” – mini martinis. Now that it’s legal, we’re gonna take an edible.
MINI MART MAGIC And like everyone else in our late 40s or early 50s, we watch videos on YouTube and make ourselves laugh until someone wets their pants. And guess who it is? We start around 7 am, which is a bit late for me. It creeps in at my bedtime, but that’s where the mini markets cheer you up.
Sunday Routine readers can follow Bridget Everett on Twitter or Instagram @bridgeteverett.