Category: Daily

While watching the news this morning, I was surprised to see a colorful Death Matters mug sitting in front of the meteorologist. (1. If there are mugs in sight, they typically hold the station’s logo. 2. Death Matters? (Sure it does, and an exit plan is important, but still. Weird.)) After a short weather update, Antoine Stormcloud (let’s pretend that’s his name) held the mug up and said, “I want to thank our producer for giving me this mug today before the show. He knows I love this time of year.” What? Really: What?! I paused the television (because we live in a magical world) and walked the six steps required to put face to screen. Sweater Weather. The mug said Sweater Weather and I’ve been wearing the same glasses for three years now. Time to make a call.

Fluid Pudding is dusty and smells like Doritos and gin, and most of us haven’t played games over here in four months. BUT in 2038 I know I’m going to wonder if it’s true that I once stood in a room with a prisoner and a Mennonite. That’s when I’ll slowly hobble my way over to Fluid Pudding and: Yes! It is true, and it happened on September 11, 2023.

Here’s all the stuff I may want to remember:

Harper finished high school in January and then worked nearly full time as a barista until she officially graduated in June and then moved into her dorm in August. That sentence holds a lot of life stuff, and Harp handled every bit of it with intelligence, humor, and grace.

Everyone: Oh, man. You’re empty nesters now. HOW IS THE EMPTY NEST, EMPTY NESTERS WHO ARE EMPTY NESTING IN THE EMPTY NEST?!

Me: If we decided to live our lives according to sitcom tropes, I would be drinking wine from a jug as I sob and flip through old baby photos. BUT, I don’t drink wine, my meds don’t allow me to cry, and most of the girls’ baby photos were lost several years ago when our iMac crashed.

Here is a photo that loosely represents my life as an empty nester who is empty nesting:

Back in June, Tempe and I went to prison. We also went to a Yayoi Kusama exhibit, a swoon-inducing pen store, a tiny Amélie-esque café, a museum of surgical science, and a really great neighborhood bar.

The above scene took place at the bar, and it is the perfect example of why you should never send away the weasel. (Related: I saw Ani DiFranco last night, and during the show she said, “I’m at the age where if it’s a good story, that’s all that matters.” I’m sure Ani is not a weasel sender. (She also said, “I’ve never taken a poll.” and I giggled like an 11-year-old boy because Meredith’s friend had purchased a round of kamikaze shots for the table, Poll sounds like Pole, and I’m a lightweight.))

Kusama at WNDR!

Joliet Prison! (We pronounced it HO-lee-yet, not because it’s correct, but because it’s funny.)

Rough Segue: SPEAKING of PRISON!
(Search Words for 2038 Me: Prisoner! Mennonite! (Also, Hi. Are you happy? If you made it this far but can’t do the math for whatever reason, you’re 68 now. And while we’re talking about math, did you ever figure out how to construct the equation about driving X mph until there are X miles to go? Also, do you still have that weird freckle on your leg?))

It sounds dumb to say things like:

• “He’ll be a great president because he’s reading a book about Reaganomics!”
• “We captured the fugitive and then decided it would be really cool to take a group photo with him! Say CHEESE, motherfuckers!”
• “Hopefully I’ll see you back here before another four months go by!”

When you noticed that I updated my website today after not writing anything for nearly five months, you probably thought, “Yeah, this is going to be about Heather Armstrong.” Well, you’re wrong. (You’re not completely wrong. It was going to be about Heather, but singing another song about her isn’t going to help anyone. She’s dead and it’s horrible and I wish it wouldn’t have happened, but it did.)

The words you’re reading right now replaced the big long paragraph I wrote about starting Fluid Pudding in 2001. In that paragraph I said something about Heather’s site, and I even worked in a fuse-box/breaker-tripping metaphor that I hated almost immediately. (You would have hated it, too.) Anyway, it was a really bad paragraph. We’re all better off without it.

Here’s something.  My doctor put me on a quick run of amphetamines, and my God I love amphetamines. They make me feel less hungry, my focus is a spotlight instead of a swinging lantern, and I don’t have to pull over and nap at truck stops if I’m driving for more than 30 minutes. I’ll be taking the final pill early tomorrow morning. If you hear a strange sound at around 0600 CST, it’s just me singing “Someone’s crying, Lord, kumbaya…”

(You can ask questions about the amphetamines, but I’m probably not going to answer the questions.)

Here’s something else. Instead of knocking on our door, our HOA (three cranky old men with clipboards) reported us to The County a few weeks back because they think we need to paint our fence. (Our fence is a good fence in need of a little stain. It is not the dilapidated eyesore they are making it out to be. Ah, but good fences do not make good neighbors, Robert Frost. Only impeccable fences make good neighbors.) The County is now presenting us with documents and using words like Defendant and Citation and Fine (as in “pay this fine” and not “your fence is so fine”) and none of this would truly bother me, except look:

This photo, taken last week, shows me staining the fence. The second letter from The County (with our court date and fine total) arrived today. It was mailed two days ago. The HOA is not recognizing our efforts and I’m pissed and get off my lawn and everyone can go to hell, et cetera.

Maybe I’ll write again soon and maybe I’ll write again never. Regardless, it’s always good to see you.

2022. Some really good things happened and some really bad things happened and it all worked out in the end, which is now.

Here are some of my 2022 things.

I bought a hand, so that was cool.

I saw some amazing shows.

I now have a sweet new cat grandson who I think looks like Will Ferrell.

I got a few fresh tattoos, and they make me really happy.

We went to New York, which was pretty amazing.

I’m learning how to weave, and that’s super fun.

I knit this great mitten and then I accidentally killed it, which was dreadful, but really? It’s just a mitten. Sure, I leaked a bunch of damnits and shits, but nobody got hurt.

I also knit this sweater and it fits just right. Does that make up for the mitten? Of course not. Apples and lawn chairs.

Alice said to buy these pants, so I did and they’re pretty great.

I also bought a dress that’s covered in middle finger giving.

I ate this pizza. It had sweet potatoes and cranberries on it, and it was so delicious. Praise Jesus for this Thanksgiving pizza.

Using carving tools and ink, I made a few Christmas cards. If you didn’t get one, don’t be sad. More people are without than with.

Some things aren’t pictured, and here are a few of those things:
1. I had to get a root canal and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

2. I had my meds changed a bunch of times and that was worse than I thought it would be.

3. I had covid and I’m not even going to capitalize it because it was shitty and horrible and I don’t capitalize vlad the impaler, either. ivan the terrible. putin. carol channing. kellogg’s raisin bran.

4. My Instagram account was hacked and Instagram won’t give it back to me, so I lost something like 1,000 photos.

5. I think I saw a dead octopus on the side of the road a few months ago, which probably didn’t really happen but in my mind it was fantastic.

6. I started going to yoga on Sunday evenings and it’s aaaahhhhhh. We always set an intention at the beginning of class, and every week mine is: I am here. (Just kidding. It’s “I’m rockin’ with Dokken.”) ((That was a joke. It really is “I am here.” I’m trying to be more mindful, but we don’t need to talk about that because Blech.))

7. Yesterday I bent over and hit my head on a chair, I still don’t like Reba McEntire, the best book I read this year was Harlem Shuffle, my album of the year is either the latest by Death Cab for Cutie or the latest by The Beths, I saw a dietician a few weeks back and that’s a whole other thing we could maybe talk about sometime, and I chose to end this list with 7 because they stand in the way of love and we will smoke them all with an intellect and a savoir faire. No one in the whole universe will ever compare.

Happy New Year. I’ll try to be back.

Did I vote today?
Of course I did.

(Full Disclosure: I voted ALAN! DAN! BETHANY! JESSICA! TRUDY! YES! NO! NO! NO! NO! YES!)

((I had no idea the final YES! issue was on the ballot, but a sweet paramedic told me he would appreciate a YES!, so I gave him one. Always support the sweet paramedics. And the not-so-sweet ones, too.))

After voting, I started knitting a hat.

If you look closely at the inside of my car, you’ll see a song by The Decemberists, my leg, a mask, and a snowcone invitation given to me by a five year old.

Today’s Joy: As I stood in line to put my ballot in the box, the 18-year-old boy in front of me asked if I could help him. (He had never voted before and wasn’t sure how to put the ballot in the box.) I was like, “I’ll help you if and only if you voted ALAN! DAN! BETHANY! JESSICA! TRUDY! YES! NO! NO! NO! NO! YES! Otherwise, see you later, SUCKER!” (I’M KIDDING! And also, I saw the bumper stickers on the back of his truck so I can say with 100% certainty that he did NOT vote ALAN! DAN! BETHANY! JESSICA! TRUDY! YES! NO! NO! NO! NO! YES! I’d still hand him an umbrella if he was stuck in the rain. Most of us are doing our best.)

I keep a notebook of my favorite sentences.
Sometimes I draw them.

A friend of mine is a yoga instructor, and on Sunday evenings she leads a Weekend Wind-Down class. It has become the 75 minutes that I look forward to during the week, because it’s 75 minutes of not thinking about work or how messy my house is or how I need to find a therapist or how it’s been months since I’ve had great sleep or how I can never think of the word Exploit. Tonight’s class was especially good because it began when the sun was up and ended when the sun was down and that felt sort of beautiful.

I’ve been working a lot lately, which means I haven’t been leaving the house very often, which means I really don’t have much to write about. Do you want to hear about my spreadsheets? No! Do you want to hear that it was ten years ago this evening that Obama was elected for his second term? Some of you definitely do NOT want to hear that, and to those people I say: Settle down and just think about the fact that 3,652 days and nights have passed since November 6, 2012. Ten years.

Five years ago I dressed like a different author every day during the month of November, and five years ago today I was Salman Rushdie, and now Salman Rushdie has lost an eye and the use of one of his hands because people are monsters.

(One of my favorites was when I dressed like Spalding Gray.)

I hope your weekend was a good one. I’ll try to be back tomorrow.

I’ve been a fan of Erin M. Riley and her tapestries for a few years now. Her weaving is so intricate and the way she is able to weave text feels like magic to me. Everything she does is so beautiful, even when the messages are brutal. Look at this. It is woven. On a loom. With wool and cotton.

This morning my mom and I made a quick visit to the new yarn store and in a little over a month I’ll be spending time with my new little loom.

It’ll either be great or it won’t, but the fact that I want to learn something new means I’m not ready to die, which sounds a lot darker than I intended.

The funny thing about the song is that I can’t stomach it long enough to make it to the end. Tomorrow is another day. Try harder, fail faster, eat, pray, live, laugh, love.

So, I’m knitting a sweater.

It will eventually look something like this.

Also, this song moves me.

For the sweater, it’s the cables. For the song, it’s the chorus. Tiny joys.

Because I had a lot of work to do today, I jumped onto Facebook to see what’s up with some of the people I like and some of the people I don’t like. (Don’t ever fret. I like you. Obviously.) I’m scrolling, I’m scrolling, I’m scrolling, and then: Holy shit.

For the first time EVER since I’ve been on Facebook, an ad popped up that I didn’t feel the need to report as inappropriate (sportswear!) or uninteresting (weight loss stuff!). AND, as much as I hate it when people say things like “I felt seen”: The ad for the following items made me feel SEEN.

There is a jewelry designer who makes triple-headed baby earrings and triple-headed baby rings, and I can’t remember the last time I was this excited. About anything. (I’m exaggerating a little. The John Irving book pictured in my sidebar? I ordered it something like eight months in advance and it is not disappointing me at all.)

This is exactly what I would look like if I had a pair of triple-headed baby earrings.

(The drawing also shows me wearing the ring, but I’m hiding it behind my back. I can hide so many things back there.) I mean, does this warrant a GoFundMe campaign?

A brand new yarn store opened in St. Louis yesterday, so Tempe said, “Let’s go eat cheesecake and shop!”

These are a few of my favorite things:
1. Hanging out with Tempe
2. Eating cheesecake
3. Rubbing yarn against my neck

The grand opening was super crowded and super wonderful and the owner is a gem. I met several people, I recognized a few people from when I worked at a yarn store twelve or so years ago, and have you ever been around a bunch of knitters/crocheters? It’s great because everyone is a fan of everyone and everyone wants everyone to succeed and most people are wearing something they made and they encourage you to touch their stuff (where “their stuff” is what they made). It’s just a big happy fiber make-out party and I Am In.

I fell in love with and purchased a hat kit.

Before I paid for it, I carried it around the store and at least five people stopped me and told me how beautiful it was and they seemed legitimately happy that I’m going to make this hat. I know it all sounds weird and maybe a few of you are rolling your eyes, but really! That’s how it is with knitters!

I’ll definitely be going back and then back again (and again).

But, come on. We all know why we’re here today. We need to figure out if I should shave my head at Friday’s hair appointment, or continue to let it grow. I never know what to say when people ask my name, and I never know what to do with the top of my head. (Unless it has something to do with a hat made from a hat kit purchased at a brand new yarn store and this is me bringing everything full circle. The end.)