My brain currently is all over the damn place.
If you’re not ready to handle a brain dump, I encourage you to look away.
You’ve been warned…
I’ve been considering words.
Specifically the word wallow.
It’s not actually onomatopoeia…but it totally sounds like what it means.
I love that!
Twinkle sounds like it’s meaning too.
I felt like my 2019 planner was my worst purchase last year…then I had a thought.
Lipstick, (or lip gloss) is actually the worst 2019 purchase.
All those new colors. Hidden behind masks.
I expressed this thought to Thing 1.
She disagreed. She reasoned that a 2019 planner can never be used again, but lipsticks are good for a while. They’ll be able to be used in the future.
She may have a point.
Of course she asked me just yesterday if I thought I had enough lipstick in the ditty bag in my purse, so…
Waiting for election results was interesting.
We made a conscious decision not to watch news coverage.
I checked the results each morning and before I went to bed.
Saturday came and Biden is our president elect.
Now, I don’t care what side of the aisle you’re on, this vote counting process was something to behold. Every vote, cast in whatever form, was counted.
It may have gone ‘your’ way, it may not. But either way, that’s democracy at work, y’all.
I also kind of love that the Count became a meme.
Like her Auntie Thing 2, Baby K loves Count von Count, especially his laugh.
Ah! Ah! Ah!
I think most families have weird stories, but I pretty much only know my own.
Here are some of them.
My great aunt was engaged to a man but they never married because he died.
Only he didn’t really die. He knocked up another woman and had to marry her.
My aunt told everyone he died and remained unmarried for her entire life.
Grandaddy was in the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) in Alabama in the late 1930s. He met my grandmother, a local college student, they began dating. He contracted polio. When the university found out, they told the her she must stop dating him or leave school. With a semester to graduation, she chose to leave school and marry him. (he had no lasting effect from the polio)
My dad was adopted when he was five, before that he spent most of his childhood in foster homes. He had only a few memories of being with his birth mother.
One was vivid enough it stayed with him his entire life. They were in the kitchen and my dad was sitting in a high chair. His mother and a man (his father?) were fighting. His mother hit the man upside the head with an iron skillet. Blood spattered into my dad’s oatmeal. He never ate oatmeal the rest of his life.
Remodeling construction finally ended.
The work was good, but the management and communication were shit. I won’t have this company back in my house. That’s OK, two bathrooms with brand new finishes are happily in use and we’re back to some semblance of normal around here.
As much as I love Hocus Pocus, it is actually a terrible movie.
Though I am actually Winnifred Sanderson. Not that I want to consume the lives of little kids to stay young, beautiful and alive forever.
But that I’m pretty much fed up with everybody coming back in here with their bullshit while simultaneously coming back in here with my own bullshit.
I’m so sick of being sick.
I’m sick of being tired.
I’m sick of being in pain.
Do not get Lyme disease, friends. It fucking SUCKS.
Four-hundred-sixty-two-thousand days left in a twenty one day cycle of antibiotics.
Thing 2 and Boyfriend M arrive Thursday afternoon.
I’m absolutely heartbroken about the death of Alex Trebek.
May he rest in peace.
It’s laugh out loud funny.
It’s head-scratching confounding.
It’s ridiculously low-brow while remarkably intelligent.
It’s brilliant and obvious at the same time.
It’s streaming on Hulu, and I encourage you to watch it!