Out with September!

It’s Migraine Week at Fluid Pudding, which means I’m taking pills and feeling a little hazy and preparing for the deluge! This is how it works. Three days before the headache REALLY hits, I feel electrical charges in my head. (I believe I’m speaking figuratively, although I’ve never held a light bulb to my ear when the charges are firing.) I started feeling the charges on Saturday evening. That’s when I started taking my customized cocktail pills!

Two days before the headache really hits, I start feeling nauseated. That’s when it’s time to bust out the Zofran! (I busted out the Zofran last night.)

One day prior to the slam, I get all sweaty and forgetful and tired and short-tempered. About an hour ago I drove to the post office to mail a letter to Meredith (I’ll explain later.), and about ten minutes ago I spent a disturbing amount of time searching for the very letter that I mailed an hour ago. (It wasn’t here. Because it’s at the post office. Because I mailed it. An hour ago.)

All of this to say: Business as Usual, although the timing sort of sucks because there’s a PTO meeting tomorrow evening and Meredith leaves for 5th Grade Camp on Wednesday. I’m boring you.

Here. This is better. I’m standing on the edge of a tiny tattoo. I had Georgia O’Keeffe’s hands tattooed onto my ankle when I was 23 and I could tell you why, but I’d almost rather not. (The things you stir up in your head are often much more interesting than my reality. Girl, you know it’s true.) Anyway, a few nights back I said something on Facebook about my current craving for a tiny ambigram tattoo on my arm and then the idea sort of blossomed a bit more and a wonderful woman/artist stepped up and said she would help me, and all of a sudden I have a jpg file and the possibility of a consultation with a tattoo artist sometime soon.

I’m 43.

tattoo

(Harper got a tattoo when she was four. She’s such a badass.)

So. Fifth grade camp. Meredith will be heading out with all of her fifth grade classmates on Wednesday, and they’ll be building fires and shooting arrows (at nothing that’s alive) and looking at stars and singing songs and catching (and kissing and releasing) fish and basically having the time of their lives until Friday at approximately 2:45 when they return to the outstretched arms of their weepy mothers. Meredith is Very Excited.

One more thing. Starting tomorrow, a good friend of mine and I are kicking off a week long adventure of not eating any processed foods. I spent the morning at the grocery store buying butternut squash (pre-cubed because I am not strong) and (the largest possible) SweeTango apples and (clean and ready) mushrooms and (I have no adjectives for my) sweet potatoes and things that are made up of ingredients that I understand. It’s going to be tough, but not so tough. It’s going to be simple and healthy and clean and beautiful. (Have I mentioned that I’ve been taking pills for the past three days? Get over here and braid my hair.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Do you feel like being framed?

We left our windows open last night and the air was cold and amazing and I’m in a really great mood today because my favorite time of year is almost here. Crunchy leaves and handknit socks and comfy clogs and marching bands and spicy tea and cardigans and new glasses. (I tend to visit my eye doctor when the air is cool, and the visit is one of my favorite days of the year for two reasons: 1. I always learn something new., and 2. I leave with a prescription in hand for new glasses!)

Wait. Although this post is very much NOT officially sponsored, I’m about to talk to you about Rivet & Sway again. (Before I start singing, let me tell you that I RARELY do sponsored posts. A well-known oil company once asked me to write about traveling in a car vs. traveling on a plane/train/bus/etc., and I wrote a story about the time I took a Greyhound bus to Atlanta and ended up accepting unmarked motion sickness pills from a woman who claimed to be a nurse and then I mentioned that I had to throw away my headphones because a stranger demanded to borrow my Walkman for most of the trip and he was not clean, and anyway: the oil company told me to take out the stuff about the pills and the headphones and I refused and they took back their offer and I retained my dignity, Helen Reddy.)

Back to glasses. I love my glasses. I LOVE my glasses.

Faster Pussycat

You helped me choose them last year, and you definitely made the right choice. Because I was so excited about the Home Try-On kit and because so many of you ALSO seemed excited, Rivet & Sway offered a coupon code to help you save $25 off of your first order. And you used it. Last month, Rivet & Sway asked if I wanted to partner up. If I promote their glasses in any way I want, they’ll provide the coupon code again (ANGELASWAYS) and kick some of their earnings my way. I mentioned them on Facebook in August, and four people used the code. All of this to say: People want good looking frames, and people want to save money, and I’m here to help you.

If you visit Rivet & Sway, choose three frames to try on at home (The Home Try-On kit is totally free and you’re under no obligation to purchase anything!), and then order using ANGELASWAYS as your coupon code, you’ll save $25. If you checked out the frames last year but didn’t see any that caught your eye, please know that they’ve added more designs! Let’s get glasses together! Again!!!

I’m currently thinking about Layer Cake.

And Checkpoint.

And Punchline.

Please be sure to tell me which frames you choose and I’ll tell you just how cute you’re going to look! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

4,383 days later…

Today is the twelfth anniversary of Fluid Pudding, and that feels sort of crazy because more “milestone” events have happened in the past twelve years than during any other span of dozen in my life. (That was an awkward sentence. Are you still with me?)

When I started writing at Fluid Pudding (it was over at Blogspot back then) I wasn’t yet married, I had no kids, I had no dogs, I didn’t know how to knit, and I lived in Nashville. Also, I had braces (on my teeth), I weighed about twenty pounds less than I do right now, and although I was a vegetarian, I had never eaten squash or plantains! (I had my first bite of plantains last Friday evening. I can’t stop thinking about them. Bonus Fact: I had squash for lunch a few minutes ago. Butternut squash! Pre-cubed for my convenience!)

Wait. Look. Less than 12 hours after eating plantains, I had a blue opal shoved into the side of my nose. It’s my favorite nose decoration so far.

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Despite all of the life-changing stuff (getting married, moving to St. Louis, buying a house, having kids, adopting more pets, getting a hole punched in my nose, purchasing a spinning wheel, cake balls…), nothing much has changed at Fluid Pudding. Actually, I take that back. The two things that are different now are the two things I struggle with nearly every day: Comments and Ads. I used to do neither. I now do both. (When I say that I struggle with Comments and Ads nearly every day, I’m exaggerating. It’s probably more like nearly every 17 days.)

I want to thank each and every one of you for stopping by here, even if you were simply searching out something dirty and are feeling slightly disappointed right now. (Please know that I’ve NEVER made pudding from a body fluid.) The Fluid Pudding Community (Please know that I know that sounds silly. Please know that I NEVER use the word readership or community or fanbase or anything like that when I talk about this website. Instead, I use words like hobby and lucky and smiley.) has made bread pudding together. We talked about doing a bowel prep together! (I think I was the only one who actually DID it!) Best of all? Last year we banded together and raised $500 so my favorite Walgreens employee could have a nice Christmas.

(The Fluid Pudding Community also had my back about eight years ago when every fast food employee in the United States dropped by and threatened to slam Harper’s infant head in a trailer door because I had the audacity to joke about sloppy eating. Do you remember that? Death threats! That was one of the worst days of my life. If I was running ads back then, I would have a nicer car right now! If I wasn’t running COMMENTS back then, I wouldn’t have learned an important lesson and that lesson is: Know Who You Might Offend When You Write About Pretending to Eat Like a Shark In a Fast Food Restaurant.)

I’ve made a few people angry with my website. (Most of them leave crazy irrational comments, and most of the time I just delete those comments and go on with life because this is my house.) I’ve made a few people think I’m writing about them when I’m really NOT writing about them and CONFUSION and clouds in my coffee Clouds In My Coffee! On the flip side, I’ve made SO many friends from Fluid Pudding. Real people I see in real life and real people I’ve never actually met, and once again: Lucky. Smiley.

As I move forward with Fluid Pudding (because I really have no plan to stop anytime soon) the only two questions I ask myself are:

1. Am I still having fun? Yes. Always. Even when I’m complaining, deep down I know that Fluid Pudding is here for entertainment (mine and hopefully yours). Example: I have a UTI right now (I’m on my second round of antibiotics!) and it really sucks, but come on. My life is still pretty sparkly.

2. Am I an asshole? No. I’m not. And I know you don’t like it when I use words like Asshole. (I stopped using the F word YEARS ago! At least here. In real life? Guilty in certain circles.) Anyway, as long as I can sit down at the computer and log in and share silly things without being a dickhead about it, we’re good, right? (Wheee! Three people are feeling VERY uncomfortable with my language in this paragraph. To those three people? I’m sorry.)

This is one of my favorite entries.

This is what led a bunch of you over here:

And this is what made you stay. (Actually, this is what drove many people away. But, we didn’t really need them, did we?)

(Don’t try that at home.)

Happy Anniversary to You. And thank you. So much. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I’m not a fan of street corn, and here’s a story about a grasshopper.

I went out to my car last week and found the largest grasshopper I’d ever seen hanging out on the hood.

Me: Hey there! If you need a lift, I can take you over to school. BUT, I need to stop by Walgreens first if that works for you.

The grasshopper faced forward and let the breeze blow into his compound eyes all the way to Walgreens. (This post is not sponsored by Walgreens, although I’ve now mentioned them three times.) Anyway, when I parked the car, the grasshopper was still holding on.

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Me: I’m just grabbing a vitamin water. You can wait right here if you want.

He waited. When I started the car to head off to school, he faced forward again.

Five minutes later when I pulled into the pick-up line and turned off the car, the grasshopper paced the hood for a bit and then jumped onto the parking lot and into the flower bed. I have to admit, I got a little misty because it felt like I was sending a child off to college. (I guess it didn’t REALLY feel like that, but I *did* get a little emotionally attached to the grasshopper. He was so charming!)

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The funny thing? For the next few days, anything my heart desired came to me.

(I know Jiminy was a cricket and this guy is a grasshopper. I know crickets and grasshoppers are different (Crickets hear with their legs. Grasshoppers hear with their abdomens. Crickets? Nocturnal. Grasshoppers? Diurnal!), but they all belong to the order Orthoptera, which means they share a common ancestor and WHY CAN’T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?! Seriously, humans. I’ve about had it with some of you and your lack of compassion and your inability to care for anyone who isn’t just like you and oh! Suddenly, I’m no longer talking about grasshoppers.)

My cardigan is coming along nicely. Before the end of the weekend, I should be done with the back. Then it will be on to the sides, the sleeves, the cuffs, the collar, and seaming. The goal? Thanksgiving, but I’ll take Valentine’s Day.

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This afternoon I’ll be meeting up with a friend to have our jewelry traded out at the tattoo place downtown. It’s starting to feel a bit like fall, which means I probably need to have a black opal in my nose and a soy chai in my hand. (Anything your heart desires (within reason) and so on? Manifestable!) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Always digging on the Savasana…

When we last spoke, I was getting ready to dive into the world of Daily Medication. My headache doctor prescribed Effexor as a migraine preventative, and BONUS: Effexor also serves as an anti-anxiety medication! It almost feels like it was invented JUST FOR ME!

Anyway, last Tuesday I took my first Effexor. Within an hour, I was experiencing what I believe was my very first panic attack! (Pull out the baby book, Mom!) My heart was racing. I couldn’t settle down. I was sweaty and nervous and I couldn’t sleep and my stomach was in knots and I kept trying to use meditation to settle myself but it wasn’t working and I couldn’t catch my breath and I was crying in the middle of the night and desperately trying to slow down my head and on Wednesday I was unable to drive. Hazy. So hazy. It was horrible.

I haven’t yet called my doctor because I’m afraid she will say, “Yeah. It gets better.” If she says that, I just might need to switch doctors, and that would feel like a really sad high school break up, because I once made a shawl for her.

Along with taking my first (and final) Effexor last week, I also took my first yoga class! It’s a beginning class and the average age in the room is probably somewhere in the 60s and I LOVE it, although I sort of wonder if it’s really yoga. I have an idea in my head of what yoga should be and I know I’m horribly inflexible so what yoga should be is Challenging (I think), but this class isn’t particularly challenging. Hrm. (I went back today, and I was slightly more challenged because I’m unable to touch my heels to the floor during Downward Dog, and should the palms of my hands and wrists be hurting as I do Downward Dog? Because throughout the entire class, my wrists and palms hurt more than anything else.)

At the end of yoga class, we relax. Some people actually cover themselves with blankets. Today I heard snoring.

As I left the studio, I was approached by a 382 year old man.

Mr. 382: What were you guys doing in there?

Me: It’s yoga!

Mr. 382: YOGURT?! HA HA HA!!!

Me: I WISH it was yogurt!

Mr. 382: Honey, if you want yogurt, I’ll take you out for some right now.

And then I grabbed the back of his head and Frenched him because it was the very first time a random guy at the gym hit on me.

Any beginning yoga feedback would be appreciated. Also, a big bowl of butter beans. Lightly peppered. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Some say it’s an aphrodisiac, which explains why I don’t have a pencil, yet I’ve been drawing a crowd.

Lately, I’ve had the feeling that I need to smell more like Patchouli, and I know it’s said that one either loves Patchouli or HATES Patchouli, but I’m here to tell you: That’s just not true. A few years ago I hated Patchouli. A few months ago I smelled some fresh Patchouli in an herb garden, and it’s been on my mind ever since. Did you know that Patchouli has been proven to prevent female moths from adhering to male moths?! I have no idea what that means for me!

Anyway, a little over a week ago, I decided to jump on Etsy and search out Patchouli. After spending nearly an hour searching for scents, I came across Modern Ritual. Holistic Products for Modern Hippies. Perfection.

Three days later, Sexy Hippie arrived in my mailbox.

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Sexy Hippie

It is amazing and I smell like I should be at Burning Man, and I really SHOULD be at Burning Man this week, so the timing couldn’t be more perfect. (AND, just so you know, the scents Social Butterfly and Optimism are on the way to my house right now. The timing of THIS arrival is sort of crazy because less than four hours ago I met with my migraine doctor, and she put me on a new headache preventative which doubles as an anti-anxiety drug. (Don’t even get me started on how much I hate the idea of taking a daily pill. I’m not a daily pill taker. Um, until tonight. When I take my first daily pill.) ANYWAY, when this pill officially kicks in, I may or may not lose the sharp edge that tends to make me flinchy in social situations, and if I DO lose the edge, I will have no idea if it’s the pill working or the Social Butterfly perfume. Please Be My Friend: If I suddenly start posting that I’m hugging people enthusiastically and/or considering hooking up with a burlesque troupe, please talk me down. (Or don’t. Perhaps it’s time to stop going gentle into that good night. Maybe I’ve been going gentle for entirely too long. Social Butterfly to the rescue!)

Anyway, I smell good. Really good. Maybe even TOO good because I’m not sure how much is too much of a good thing.

Speaking of which, I ate an entire package of these on Saturday.

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