Miscellany

Well, if you had told me last October that in 12 months I’d be happy with my job, my home, my hair, essentially the most basic, fundamental outlines of my life, I would have said you were out of your fucking mind. The hair part sounds unimportant and I’d like it to be, but come on. I may have come to terms with wrinkles and gaining a few pounds but I’m still me. I’m still hairy.

I read this article on subjective age this morning and realized that for the past few years, I felt much older than my age, which was largely a function of being stuck in a life that didn’t fit anymore and not knowing how to get out. Not unlike a sports bra. And now I feel at least 10 years younger. I’ve built a lifestyle that feels right and safe, even though the world outside is, I’m aware, still a tremendous shithole. But I’m typing this from the sofa while a wet dog snores beside me, listening to Breakfast with the Beatles on XRT, drinking a cold cup of stale coffee, and it feels okay. We went for a long walk this morning and then I roasted some vegetables. It’s chilly and I’d grab a sweatshirt if I could move, but other than that, it’s all okay. And I don’t know that I would expect or even ask for more than this.

+ “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”

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3 things for today

1. Back to my pants: I have no idea how to dress anymore. I tried ordering a “curated” box from Stitch Fix that arrived today and it was all horrible; i.e., when I say “flannel” I don’t mean “sexy flannel.” I just mean flannel. When I say I don’t need work clothes, I don’t mean I need wool trousers. I was confused by every single choice. My basic life problem is that it’s impossible to parlay “campfire lazy” into a presentable daily wardrobe that doesn’t make me look like a 65-year-old pre-teen boy. If you know what I mean.

2. Happy Friday, as they say. I used to wish people “Happy Monday” on Monday morning conference calls but nobody seemed happy to hear it. I caught on eventually but I’m still aggressively chipper on most calls, regardless of the day or who’s happy about it. Partly it’s because I work from home and am glad to talk to other people and partly it’s because I have no patience for long weird pauses where everybody waits for somebody else to talk. I usually barge right in with a stupid comment or laugh inappropriately. I’m surprised I’m still employed sometimes.

3. I asked the dog, on our long walk after dinner, if he would run to the store and pick up some ice cream. What’s the point of keeping you around all the time if you won’t run an errand? I said. I buy all your food, I pick up your poops, I save you from shadows and scooters and lawnmowers. I’ll give you the keys to the car! He didn’t say anything (he doesn’t drive) but he gave me that look, the one that says, This sounds sort of okay but I’m pretty sure it’s a scam. There might be ear drops involved. Needless to say, here I sit, not eating ice cream.

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Nothing in life is free

Fall rules but Halloween is a little rough for dogs & those who have dogs let loose upon them.

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3 things for today

1. I’ve been cooking a lot lately because why not. What do I have to lose. What else do I have to do with my time. Watch the news? Read the news? I DON’T THINK SO. Take my dog for walks, sure. Try to find pants that fit, okay. Catch up on Succession, done. (I’ve never seen anything that makes ambition and power and money look more grotesque, although of course there are plenty of things. Reality, for one. But I’m constantly thinking to myself that they each need to just buy their own private island and go die on it. Yet I keep watching, for America. And Harriet Walter, who is so deliciously, deliberately mean. I’d like to see her succeed, I guess. She wears some funky getups.)

2. This creamy lemon pasta was particularly fine and comes highly recommended by me and the 91 weirdos who made random variations of it and shared their thoughts with the public (as I, to be honest, am doing now). Thoughts like “Our two lemons yeilded almost a cup of lemon juice. We almost died. Our mouths may never unpucker. For those who don't know, apparently when following a recepie the juice of a lemon equals about 3 tablespoons.” I added arugula to mine.

3. I realized yesterday eve that I haven’t sat down and read an actual book in months. This should concern me, I’m aware, yet…I don’t feel like I need to go around looking for more things to be concerned about. I feel like all the concerns I can handle are filling my pockets right now, already, which is probably (I hope) why none of my pants fit. I suppose I could blame all that creamy lemon pasta instead, vis-a-vis the pants, but again—no more concerns. Zip. Zero. Plus books will still be there when I exeunt this phase. I’m not worried about books anymore. Or my pants, really. They’re just pants.

4. I also realized I haven’t blogged much in lo these many past months. Maybe it’s because of the anti-anxiety medication, which has indeed “taken the edge off” but also might be (slightly) numbing my brain to experience and clever quips. Or it could be that all the stuff I used to save up to say to this blog I now say to my dog instead. I’ve watched a million YuleTube dogtraining videos and many of the trainers comment on how you have to be careful about how you talk to your dog, that if you babble on incessantly they will eventually tune you out, so I will keep you posted if this happens to be true. Right now he’s napping in the bathtub, a new weird habit. He got neutered a week ago and can’t take a bath yet so I don’t know what he’s expecting to happen in there, but time will tell.

4. Once other people start telling you what they like via Like buttons, you inevitably start hewing to their idea of what’s good. And since “people tend to be extremely similar in their vulgar and prurient and dumb interests and wildly different in their refined and aesthetic and noble interests,” the stuff you publish will start looking a lot like the stuff that everybody else publishes, because everybody sort of likes the same thing and everybody is fishing for Likes. (James Somers @ The Atlantic)

Kari G Comments
Cutting to the chase

There are symbols posted at library entrances and on signs at parks around here: No cigarettes. No guns. Neither applies to my situation.

I have a problem where I keep thinking I want to go camping but then realize it’s an Instagram curse, that I’m being duped by accounts that make camping look easy and glorious, not sweaty and popular with bugs. I love outdoors and being cozy around a fire but I don’t want to do any of the things that would bring those two things together besides show up somewhere with a chair, a blanket, and my dog.

I was sitting on the porch last Sunday morning and took a sip of coffee and there was a dead bee in it, is what I’m saying.

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