Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

It's been a while it seems.  February, when I was in the throes of a broken foot and a doubly ruptured plantar fascia.  In all this time, I've thought about writing, longed to, and yet . . . I wrote for other places, I wrote for books, I wrote in my mind. I stopped time, in many ways. 2019 has been brutal to me. It's been an unending barrage of punches to the face and gut. As I type this now, I shiver a little wondering what will happen next. Will the universe serve me another blow? What insult and injury awaits me this week? I hold my breath. In the fires of memory, I spent a large portion of August in Colorado. Per usual, I found myself footing myself up and down mountainsides, and most pointedly, I made it 3/4 of the way down an expert level hike in Black Canyon. I didn't make it all the way as lupus and asthma said hello, more than once, and my sister from another mother and father--Jen--and I agreed that wrecking myself to make it up and down was not an...

Since it has been sometime since I posted lackadaisical nonsense . . . okay, not that long , but since the valley of life has thrown me to the weeds in a long, and an undeniable shitstorm of power and persuasion, I escape and release myself through fantasy and humor . . . and as we all know sewing.  Today, enjoy a sewing diversion of sorts. When I am 80 . . . indeed.  Just as I have a to-do list of things for today (like grade, write a letter, pay a bill, finish a lingering article, walk the dog, grade, grade some more, work on another lingering article, read a book for review . . . yawn stretch, are you tired yet?) I have a list of things to do when I am 80.  My bestie and I conference a few times a year, meeting around the globe in airports and hotels, to meet, relax, give talks, make articles, and plot the next one . . . and drink wine and eat chocolate of good quality and seek each city's epic sushi spot (in Amsterdam . . . we found a place, on a side street, that t...

So I'm like a whole freaking week late on posting the final Me Made May roundup.  Well . . . I was in Kentucky on work, and I won't apologize for having a beer after work and usually being too tired to stay up past 10:30.  Yes, lame.  Yes, true.  Yes, there were an hour of student and work emails too . . . nearly every night. But, for your viewing pleasure: Wednesday, a day of browns. An Amy Butler Barcelona, my new boat shows, a now toooo large cardi, and my insomnia bag (AKA Multi Tasker Tote from Anna Maria Horner). Of course,  I was still in NYC here . . . It was chilly, hence the cardi.  Guess where the cardi is now? In the growing Goodwill bin. Thursday . . . the day to finish packing what wasn't done the day before, remember the tablet and Advil (the sunscreen for kids who go to summer camp for nerds), and try to sleep. {There's no photo as my phone shit the bed a day or so later, and . . . this one isn't on my Google+ backup (meanin...

I hear that aside from the joys of child rearing a key reason to have them is so you have someone to take care of you in your old age.  Well, I do not have tricycle motors, teenaged anger machines, or any variation of the mix.  BUT, I do have other people's children.  Yes, you read that right.  My friends know that their kids will be saddled with me, and in return for all of the good humor and advice I bestowed their way they get to make sure my old, decrepit, and insane ass is comfortable. Like today, for instance, my friend Chris left a lovely Facebook wall post of her pre-teen.  What did she say? "Love you love you love you!  Please clean up your room and don't forget to walk the dogs when you get home . . . also, please take the two packages of ground meat out of the fridge (bottom shelf) and put in the sink to finish thawing.  And don't forget to call me when you get home!"  Very sweet, right? Good, responsible parenting. What did I say? ...