state of the union

Joe lies down whenever it all feels like too much, and frankly there are worse coping mechanisms so I try and be supportive. Feel your feelings, little woman.

Back in September I searched "crock pot apple" on Pinterest and learned that my root chakra is blocked, so I bought a plant on the advice of a spiritual website and just made applesauce like I always knew I was going to. The plant is flourishing in spite of being dropped thirteen times before arriving to its new home directly on top of/next to a radiator/an open-all-winter window. I'm unsure of how much the plant has impacted the health of my root chakra but since neither one of us is dead and it looks cute in my kitchen I guess I'll keep watering it. 

My cat had his wellness visit yesterday and I paid hundreds of dollars to learn that he's fat and has stinky breath. Words cannot express how much I love and adore our veterinarian, but I already knew both of those things. Except now that I've paid for the privilege of having a learned doctor explain how I'm supposed to train my cat to brush his own teeth over a period of several months, I have to actually do something about how fat and stinky he is. And if there's anything I'm annoyed by, it's being asked to do things. 

Today I made macaroni and cheese from scratch. At 10AM. And we ate it for breakfast. And lunch. 

Blogger still won't let me upload photos except for when it does but then quickly changes its mind again which makes it worse, pick a lane Blogger. 

currently clogging cleverly

Watching Kath & Kim. May the baby Jesus bless whatever algorithm made this show pop up on Netflix, because it is everything I’ve been wanting in a show that I didn’t know I wanted. Early 2000s fashion, dated celebrity references, Australian accents, stupid jokes, smart jokes, just everything, I just love it all so much. 

Reading N.K. Jemisin. After barely reading anything at all for well over a year – nothing I picked up was really grabbing me, which very likely had a lot less to do with the quality of reading material available than with the fact that nothing in the world is more interesting than sleep to a person who isn’t getting any – I found “The Fifth Season” last month by randomly clicking around on Amazon. And holy cow. I bought the second and third books in the trilogy before finishing the first and read them all one after another. Turns out that N.K. Jemisin is kind of a huge deal! She’s already won lots of awards et cetera et cetera and so she probably doesn’t care that she has a new fan in me (five years after everyone else already knew about her… I’m nothing if I’m not a trendsetter) BUT IF YOU’RE READING THIS, HI! I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR REKINDLING MY LOVE OF READING IF YOU WANT TO COME OVER YOU TOTALLY CAN.

Last night I finished reading “The Art of Inheriting Secrets,” by Barbara O’Neal because I needed a palette cleanser before starting another Jemisin trilogy. Sometimes you need a little romance in an English countryside in between fantasy worlds, you know? Anyway it was fine! Worth every one of the zero dollars I paid for it.

Worrying about getting my wisdom teeth out next week. I finally sucked it up and found a new dentist that I actually like, who referred me to an oral surgeon who is just delightful and seems perfectly competent. Still, I should have had this done years ago and in addition to this particular procedure costing me a small fortune I am also concerned about what other work I’m going to need to have done. I am twenty-nine hundred times more apprehensive about this than I was about giving birth. (I said that to the woman I share an office with, who responded “Make sure someone is waiting for you so that nobody molests you while you’re drugged” so there’s absolutely no need to worry about me nope no sir I am surrounded by positive, reassuring individuals.)

Baking some kind of banana bread pudding concoction this weekend, because last night I thought "Oh why don't I bake a nice chocolate chip banana bread" to bring to a Ted Bundy viewing I'm going to tonight and then I thought, "Well there will be other food there so why don't I use some of this batter to make mini muffins for daycare" and of course burnt the ever-loving crap out of the mini muffins. (I was in the other room watching Kath & Kim and lost track of time if you must know.) Then this morning I couldn't fit the whole loaf into a container AND SO now I have all these sort of burnt tiny muffins and a couple of stray crumbly squares that will probably good with some pudding dumped over the top.

Zoodle Margaret hugs for real now, and her little arms around my neck are worth every single moment she insists that we sit in the dark while eating dinner because she likes to flick the light switch off but not back on again and so help you if you try to do it. Also she now says both "love you!" and "amo!" and it's honestly, truly just too much. 

currently

Drinking coffee out of a Dunkin Donuts cup. There are a lot of things wrong with this picture; for one thing, there are perfectly good coffee makers in both my home and work kitchens so there’s no reason for me to buy a cup. However the lid of the Contigo tumbler I’ve been using came apart and no matter how many times I watch the nice man on Youtube put his springs back together I can’t get mine reassembled. To be fair to both Contigo and the Youtube man’s video tutorial, I have yet to attempt reassembly without a spirited almost-fourteen-month-old trying to eat said springs. Another thing wrong with this picture is that I’m 96% sure the Dunkin Donuts lady purposely shuts her ears when I tell her how many Splenda I want. This is the same DD lady that hopefully asked “Decaf?” every morning I walked in there pregnant. Everyone I tell about her (and I tell a lot of people about her) (I almost never stop talking about the woman who manages the Dunkin Donuts under the train) is offended at her behavior but I like her a lot. Sometimes stray gentlemen of the transient persuasion get in arguments at this DD and she always peacefully makes everyone happy again and I sincerely doubt that’s in her job description. Plus she gives Zoodle donut holes.

Procrastinating scheduling appointments for all of the creatures. Cat ones and baby ones and Lindsay ones. Mostly the cat ones though; much like our couch, getting Griffon out of the apartment will require some sort of black magic so I’ve got to either dust off the old Book of Spells or get an appointment with the vet that makes house calls. I wonder if the vet does well child visits. And dental surgery. It’d be great to get it all done in one shot. Also procrastinating work. See: This.

Enjoying fall, and being a mommy, and being a mommy in the fall. Fall fall mommy mommy fall. #fall. I’m wearing flannel and kicking crunchy leaves and melting/drinking/burning all the spiced cider pumpkin scented everything because I don’t have a newborn anymore and I am awake to enjoy it all and it is glorious. GLORY. US. Last autumn I was thankful for my healthy baby and for everything good in life that allowed me to stay home with her through the season. This year I’m thankful for full nights of sleep and little bits of time to myself, two things I would do terrible things to get. The older zoodle boodle gets, the more fun things we can do with her, and I’m just so thrilled to have my tiny little buddy to do All the Fall Activities With. And then All the Christmas Ones. And All The Activities For Forever or until she stops wanting to hang out with me as much, which is hopefully when she’s 100 and I’m a ghost.

Drinking lemon ginger tea with honey now because I started this at 7AM and now it’s after 12. And my throat hurts. #fall.

NOT eating the entire bowl of Halloween candy that’s five feet away from me. Not today. I’m not. I won’t. (On Friday I invented a hybrid Snickers/Reese’s candy bar by putting both into my mouth at the same time and then I rode that sad, sad wave all the way into Sunday night and now I have to live with the very unfortunate consequences of my actions AKA if I unbutton this flannel everyone’s going to think I’m knocked up again.)

Reading my tattered copy of Handmaid’s Tale again before I start The Testaments, which I purchased practically before it was written and now am unsure of why I rushed when by the time I actually get around to reading it I’ll surely be able to find it for $1 at any thrift store.

Listening to positive affirmations in the morning instead of podcasts about substance abuse and murder. Unless there’s a really good episode I want to finish, which is mostly. I’ll let you know if it changes my life.

Realizing that I am boring myself and bowing gracefully out.

currently, as in bodies of water, as in that's where I should like to be

I want to make a rhubarb pie. I’ve only ever made one pie before, and it was an apple one, and perhaps “pie” is a generous word for what I made. I used to make a lot of tarts, though, in school. Raspberry tarts and peach tarts and blueberry tarts. And then the teacher told me I couldn’t make tarts anymore, this wasn’t Tart School, I had to learn something else if I wanted to graduate. Joke’s on you, mister, I told him. I don’t WANT to graduate from Tart School. I said THIS ISN’T Tart School, he said. IS NOT. Anyway that’s why I have a desk where I keep cat pictures and shiny stones and a tiny clay pig instead of a cooking show.

Last night in my dream I was on a bus, a pretty full one. All the seats were taken and there was a little boy next to me in one of the seats that face into the bus instead of forward or backward.  He was holding a cardboard sign but he wasn’t looking at it, he was looking out the window at a man standing outside. The man was crying – like, a lot, like really really crying, like with his whole face. The bus started to pull away and suddenly I understood that the man was leaving the boy. Had some weird dream-thoughts re: the boy being the one physically doing the leaving since he was on the bus moving away from the space where he’d been staying with the man. Right? Write. Rong. I snatched the sign out of the boy’s hands and decided I’d take care of him, and then the boy’s mother was found and she took him from me and they were gone. Until they weren’t gone anymore, and we were at the front of the bus where the seats were more like school bus ones than city bus ones. And she’d decided she didn’t want him after all, and she handed him back to me wrapped up in a blue blanket. He looked more like a puppy than he had before. And then I had two kids that weren’t of my loins that I was taking care of, and they were kissing each other and I said “Don’t do that you’re brother and sister” and they laughed and said, “Too late!” And then someone I couldn’t see was asking me if I was sure I wanted to take care of them. Griffon woke me up with his old-lady yowling before I could figure out how to answer. I’m still trying to figure it out.

At the end of last year I got a really, really cute haircut. This year I learned that the cuter a haircut is, the uglier it will be to grow out. My hair is currently at my least favorite length and every time I pass by a salon (which is a lot of times) I have to physically restrain myself from running inside and screeching “CUT IT OFF CUT IT OFF” because when the day comes that I can put all of it up in a ponytail again without the aid of bobby pins, well. That will be a great fucking day.

For Diego’s anniversary present (Saturday marks our fourth year of arguing about how to fold towels and whether or not it’s okay to order Corona at an establishment where there is also an option of a fancy beer or cocktail; one of us doesn’t fold anything ever and so is automatically wrong about everything, so) I got him tickets to A Bronx Tale because he’s been dropping subtle hints like “I WANT TO GO SEE A BRONX TALE.” I picked a matinee on the day of our actual anniversary, because we’re leaving for Maine suuuper early the next morning. And thennn his brother went back in time, knocked up his girlfriend, and purposely planned the baby shower for the exact same afternoon. In Connecticut! So now I get to wear my pretty new dress to an anniversary day-date AND a baby shower for my new nephew. (I bet you thought I was going to complain about having to reallocate my theatre wine fund into a diaper/tiny clothes/othersuch landfill fodder fund and also about losing half a day/the only day I planned for packing. Well, joke’s on you guys (in addition to being on my high school culinary teacher, remember him from the beginning of this blog? Oh the places we’ve been) because I am choosing to see “inconveniences” as “opportunities” and being grateful to the universe for nourishing my growth.) Thank you, universe. You crazy kid.)

I never really got into podcasts (it was only recently that I accepted electricity as a trend that’s here to stay, and I’m still clutching my wide-brimmed hat about it.) I vaguely recall listening to This American Life back when I hung around a lot of people who were a little older than me and very into being aware of things so that one could be indignant about the things over craft beers. Most of those people, to the best of my knowledge, are now doing important work to better the things they helped teach me to be indignant about – which reminds me, I should remember to try more. And do better. Anyway, so, podcasts. Someone recently suggested I listen to “My Favorite Murder” because they know I am a person who loves murdering. Actually why they suggested it is a little unclear – the suggestion was based on the fact that I share a space 45+ hours/week with a human who is extremely challenging to share space with and others, including the podcast-suggest-er, are sympathetic. But the part that’s unclear is exactly in which way stories about murders are supposed to be helpful. Is it in like a, “life could be worse” kind of way? Or in a “I think you are a person who probably identifies with murderers” kind of way? Either way, it’s GREAT. The setup is casual, so it just feels like you’re hanging out with friends (especially if your friends don’t respond to you or acknowledge your presence in any way, and if you can’t SEE your friends you just hear their voices and also if your friends like to talk about dead people a lot.) I’ve been playing it while I get ready in the morning, and I can’t tell you what a treat it is to hear about women running into oncoming traffic while I smile into the mirror and dot blush onto the apples of my rosy, rosy cheeks. Such a pleasant way to greet the day.

I’m also listening to one called Sword & Scale, which is way more fascinating/upsetting. I tried to play one today at work but it had to do with kids and the dark web and it just got way too gruesome. Like even thinking about it now is making me want to throw up the sugar-free Jell-O pudding cup I just ate without a spoon.

The books that I’m reading are more cheerful – for example, I got a Kindle one for .99 (you know I can’t not) and in it the little boy escapes! from the secret, walled-off basement that his family is living in because his older brother raped and murdered a girl from their town who fell off a cliff. And the baby that the older sister has with the older brother is healthy! Another recent one (worth about 1/10th of the .99 it cost) about a girl who kills her roommate, assumes her identity, and then stalks the child she gave away for adoption. And not ALL of the post-apocalyptic ones have also been dystopian, exactly, so. I just bought/started reading Station 11 upon the recommendation of one of the girls on the murder podcast, so I’ve got pretty high hopes for a happy ending.

Also have not made the slightest of dents in the wall of books I already own and have yet to read. And if I divide how much I’ve PAID for the gym this year by how many times I’ve GONE, well, you know, math is hard.

That was an update on what I've been listening to/reading. Brought to you by 5PM EST.

currently eating currants but not really

Currently not cleaning my mirror. Not now, not ever. 

Feeling itchy. So okay, the backs of my legs are almost always itchy and have been for a lot of years and I don’t know why. Especially the little secret parts behind my knees. Sometimes in the shower I put the water on as hot as it will go and lean forward so that only the bottom part of my body is under the faucet and let it throw hot water on my stupid itchy legs while I balance my weight on the very not-sturdy shelf I put together at the end of the tub and listen to Amberlynn Reid on Youtube via the brand-new phone Diego got me for Christmas that I’m not only using to watch trolls on the internet in my very wet bathroom but have also already dropped into a bowl of eggs and cinnamon that I was using to make French toast and I think, “This is why everybody hates you.” But it feels good for a minute. The hot water. Anyway I’d been at work for about an hour this morning when I noticed one of my elbows was very itchy, so I kept scratching it and finally I looked at it and it’s all red and puffy. My legs usually aren’t. When they’re itchy. Usually they’re not red either but they are often quite puffy. Then it was my other elbow, and up my arm a little, and now the FRONT PARTS of my legs are getting itchy but I can’t check and see if they’re red because you’re supposed to keep your pants on at work mostly. I guess I could go in the bathroom but also I don’t want to take my pants off, like that’s why I quit ballet when I was a kid because I didn’t like that I couldn’t wear underwear with the leotard and something about taking my underwear all the way off and putting the tights and the leotard on and taking the tights and the leotard back off and putting my underwear back on just seemed like a lot of effort for one night of sequin-y glory a year. Also my mom yelled at me because I kept moving around while she was trying to put makeup on my face and I cried because my bun was too tight and both of my armpits are rashy and itchy too, now. And my scalp a little too.

Anticipating the Women’s March on Saturday. Look, guys:

Things I Like To Do in Parks 

Read. 

Sneakily imbibe. 

Lay quietly. 

Maybe swing. 

Things I Do Not Like To Do in Parks 

Exercise. 

Most group activities. 

Be physically uncomfortable (see also: most group activities). 

Things I Like To Do on Sidewalks

Walk. ALONE. 

I don’t have the right temperament for a lot of demonstration-like activities, and also I not-so-secretly think that most of the “protests” that’ve blipped on my personal radar are way too vague and not nearly well-thought-out enough to have any meaningful impact. (I’m not saying protesting is stupid, just that I’ve seen a whole hell of a lot of stupid protests. Be wise with your resources, sweet summer children.) I also don't want to involve myself in anything hateful, even if the hate is directed toward something I don't like.

However I do believe that protesting can be VERY powerful and impactful, if executed correctly, so in that spirit I will be participating on Saturday. I’m very lucky because the company I work for is paying for a bus for anyone who wants to go. Also there will be sandwiches on the bus. (“So basically you need there to be a free bus full of sandwiches in order for you to stand up for anything,” you said. “YES OBVIOUSLY THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I AM SAYING,” I replied. “YOU REALLY NAILED IT. ALSO I NEED TEGAN AND SARA AND GLORIA STEINEM TO BE THERE AND THEY’RE ALL IN SO I AM ALSO IN.”)

Truthfully the anticipation is erring a bit on the edge of nervousness – I fully expect to walk directly into a shit show, but I also fully expect that everyone get to go about their lives without being dehumanized. Or, you know, be forced to LIVE in a shit show. So. Here we are.

Eating steamed broccoli. I only need twenty-nine bags of it per day to feel almost satiated!

Bleeding moderately, as of this afternoon. Which I at first thought might make this weekend rather inconvenient, but then I realized that when life gives you a uterus you could potentially use its product to make a political statement, say, on the lawn of the White House. (I don’t know why our organizer feels the need to continually remind me that “this is a peaceful gathering” and “nothing should happen that you could get arrested for” and on and on and on. Like, I get it lady, geez.)

Wishing I still had my purple Lion King sweat suit (also The Little Mermaid one) to wear to The Lion King on Sunday. Or to wear to anywhere, really.

Feeling also tired now because I took some Benadryl because of being so itchy. I guess it’s harder to feel itches when you’re sleeping.

c u r r e n t l y

Wanting to tell you that if you think my eyebrows are bad in the above selfie that I have shared apropos of nothing, you should see them now. I took that picture two weeks ago and have groomed them zero times. They're getting to a point where I sort of admire their audacity. That they're at a point where they can accurately be described as audacious and that I spent a full minute in the bathroom mirror at work today in actual awe of the way so many hairs grow a centimeter away from any spaces where it would be helpful for them to grow - that, friends, speaks to something. It does. I've just lost track of what since I started to tell you about it. 

Reading the piles and piles of forty-eight cent books I've accumulated from The Strand since Diego started working near there. Or trying to. I keep just re-reading books I've already read, like, I visited my mom recently:

and grabbed a Chuck Palahniuk I forgot I had there off the shelf and read it again. (Speaking of whom, she keeps saying things like, "Maybe one weekend we'll drive some boxes of your stuff to your apartment!" which I feel like is rude because I don't see what's wrong with my plan of just taking one book home every time I visit for the next forty years. It's cool though. I thought you loved seeing me, Mom, but it's cool. Message received.) Or I'm carefully sifting through the duct-taped pages of Margaret Atwoods that have somehow survived a decade's worth of beatings via the inside of a series of tote bags. Or I'm being salty that I let a friend borrow my copy of Down and Out in Paris and London a few years ago and haven't gotten it back yet because I REALLY WANT TO READ IT FOR THE TENTH TIME. THE TENTH TIME IS THE BEST TIME EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT.

Anyway, so, Reading something by Alice Hoffman that I forgot the name of because it's all the way in the other room. Illumination Night! So far a lady has jumped out of a window. But something about Alice Hoffman stories make me feel all autumn-y inside so I feel like I'll probably finish this one tonight provided I ever finish telling you about all of the things that are current.

Watching myself type this, obviously. But Alice Hoffman reminded me of Practical Magic (which is on Netflix now!!) which reminded me of the last movie I watched which was Face Off which is my favorite movie of all time since I watched it on Sunday night.  I saw it when it came out on VHS, but most of the time if a movie like that was on I was watching it with my brother and my mom's BFF's two sons. Which meant that what I was really doing was reading a book and/or writing in my diary with gel pen about the wretchedness of being surrounded by boys, while in front of the television three or more male children hopped around excitedly shouting "THIS IS MY FAVORITE PART! READY? READY? WATCH! THIS IS THE BEST PART!" So on Sunday when Adult Lindsay watched Face Off, she realized that it has everything she's ever wanted in a Lifetime movie PLUS Nicholas Cage's facial expressions.

Planning to count how many times I've said "which" since I started this. Seems like a lot of times. Whiches, witches, Halloween! Costumes! Planning costumes. I'm so good at this. I accidentally already picked mine while trying to get ready a few weeks ago:

If I can get Diego to be Rizzo I'm going as Sandy. You're the one that I love most, plastic shiny pants I bought online for reasons I cannot recall or comprehend. 

Anticipating:

And, like, I don't know, carving jack-o-lanterns and picking apples and stuff. But mostly the five-dollar box of commercials and tiny shampoos. 

like snow, like gold

 CURRENTLY: Because sometimes you sort of want to blog but you're bad at driving thought trains and also you're supposed to be doing Actual Things, not writing into the abyss, but if you give it some form it kind of feels a little bit more productive and so you can justify doing it instead of the Actual Things. Only not really. Not really at all. 

Listening to Andrew Bird. If I started doing this five minutes ago, though, my answer would have been "YouTube tutorials on how to glue flowers to your face." As if eyelash glue is something I need in my life. Maybe should just focus on mastering "picking out pants," girlfriend.

Cooking not an ever-loving thing because my live-in chef is doing it for me. Just kidding, he's at the gym. What I do have is a 20% off Seamless coupon sitting pretty in my inbox, which I will be using so that I do not have to wash any dishes tonight. Just doing my part to conserve water. If you're wondering why I'M not at the gym, it is also in the interest of conservation and not because I don't want to. If you're wondering.

Reading a whole lot of Jennifer Weiner-y books because if it costs 99 cents and you send me a colorful email about it I'll probably buy ten of whatever it is. Whenever I'm buying something I don't need I try really hard to channel Suze Orman and if that doesn't work I remind myself of the wise words of Juelz Santana: "I don't play when it comes to money, guess that's why I'm okay when it comes to money." But usually my desire for glitter nail polish or cat sweaters defeats my better judgment. And usually my better judgment doesn't even put up that good of a fight; it's embarrassing, actually. I feel like "The House We Grew Up In" by Lisa Jewell might have been a good investment of my dollar, though. I'll let you know. Please just sit where you are and continue refreshing this page until my review is posted. Which might be never, because I don't post book reviews. Also I might never finish another book ever again, because ever since I started walking to work instead of taking the train I read way less. I have to train myself to read at other times that were previously designated to doing other things or learn to incorporate reading into other activities that I already do a lot. Like, I can read while I'm brushing my teeth. Or while I'm dusting, although that would mean I'd have to start dusting. I guess I could read instead of writing this dumb blog post.

I don't remember what we were talking about in all these pictures, but I bet you it was "My butt really hurts, this fence is a bad chair." I forgot I was supposed to order dinner twenty minutes ago. I wish there was a 20% faster coupon. I'd pay 20% more for that.

What am I doing what am I doing.

glad i didn't die before i met you

 

CURRENTLY, I am living in squalor. WHERE IS MY BED. Where is it. Where.

 
Trying to Make Time For: Seeing my friends around here. Studying for my last finals. Being a real person. You would think, with three whole days a week now completely free and devoid of responsibility, that I would be getting so many things done. And having adventures. And getting dressed. But you would be wrong, friend of mine. So very wrong. My bed is somewhere in that picture up there. IT IS. I swear. I also swear that there are not seventeen other cats in various states of alive-ness underneath the one cat you can see, even though if you are anything like me you looked at that picture and heard the sound bit from Hoarders. I have a queen sized bed and the space I am utilizing for sleep and not for crap storage is smaller than a cradle.

Should be Doing Instead of Blogging: Memorizing questions for my Spanish oral. That I'm supposed to do in an hour. Only I will bet you my entire checking account* that Senora will not be where she said she was going to be when I go to that place. And the four and a half minutes I'm going to spend furiously flipping flash cards right before I walk down there will be for naught. FOR NAUGHT. Also just remembered have like seventeen other assignments I'm supposed to give to her. What up, google translate. What. Is. Up.

*Don't get too excited. It's pretty bleak. SUZE ORMAN GET IN MY LIFE.

Washing Your Hair?: Bahahahahahhaha ha. hahaha.

Taking Dumb Pictures of Yourself for Dumb Reasons/No Reasons?: Have we met.

 Wishing: That New England would get its act together. Why is spring not a thing here? I guess maybe because we get to have such pretty autumns and the universe is afraid of spoiling us? Whatever, it's fine. And let's be serious, I am in no kind of hurry to put away my grandpa sweaters. No hurry at all. Yesterday morning I sat in the sunshine for twenty minutes, which turned out to be all of the sunshine for the whole day because then it rained ice water forever and I wore fourteen bathrobes and every pair of socks I own and cried. Today it's supposed to be 80 degrees and so I am wearing a dress and bravely did not bring a sweater with me* because of optimism.

*This is not the truth.


Reading: I can't make myself be interested in anything. Which means, obviously, cycling through Stephen Kings for the umpteen millionth time.

Listening to: So I still have Bright Eyes on my iPod. I know. Let's just not talk about it. Let's also not talk about the fact that I still have like a second generation iPod and my phone still flips and YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S VINTAGE, IT MEANS I'M COOL. Except to say, that, listening to these songs now and remembering how connected I felt to the lyrics in high school is a lot of hilarious.

Anticipating: One more week. One more week. One more week.

Wishing:  That I hadn't failed so hard and so immediately at my "Not Buying Any Clothes in May!" idea. Look at me, taking credit for other people's ideas. It was actually this cute lady's idea, sorry I tried to trick you before. Anyway it was a really, really good idea, whoseever whoevers who ever's (how do you say that? why don't I know anything? donde!? por que!) idea it was. (Mine.) (Nope.) Even though my version of "extravagance" is buying something that costs more than four dollars at Savers, when you buy a million things that are less than four dollars that still adds up to more dollars than I have, because of math. (Damn it. I have math to study too. STOP DISTRACTING ME.) And I thought, oh, this combined with not smoking anymore will make me stop having panic attacks about money!

But then I blacked out and bought a pair of sandals. Which, in my defense, I really needed because of not knowing how to walk and therefore all of my other sandals looking like garbage shoes from garbage town.

MORE CAT PICTURES! PLEASE!: Well, fine, you twisted my arm.

Currently

Feeling

Emotionally unprepared to get my math test back today.

Watching

My mom and I finished watching Brothers and Sisters on Netflix a few weeks ago. 

That's been it for TV shows. Lots of Jenna Marbles youtube videos, though.

Reading

Textbooks. And then some more textbooks. I've been in kind of a reading slump lately, sadly. 

Maybe it's because I'm reading so much for school, and when I'm not doing that I want to be doing things? 

Whatever it is it's taking me a long time to get through any book I pick up, and then I lose interest anyway.

Right now I'm trying to read Casual Vacancy by JK Rowling. 

She's amazing, obviously, and (I think?) this is her first adult book. 

Er, book written for adults. 

Thinking about 

How many girls' butts I've seen around campus[es] since the weather got a little warmer THREE DAYS

ago. My advice to these girls, with their shirts as dresses, who are the same girls who wear leggings as pants

 in the winter, is to just combine those two pieces of clothing. Wear your leggings under your short 

dresses. It's not THAT warm out yet. Perfect! Look how cute you look! Little cuties!

Eating

I've been eating bowls on bowls on bowls of plain Greek yogurt with raisins & Fiber One cereal mixed in.

I don't know why except that one day I realized I had all of these things, and I decided to mix them together,

 and it was magical and I haven't wanted much else since then. 

(Except for chocolate milk. Gallons. On gallons. On gallons.)

 

Looking forward to 

This weekend. Girlfriends! Dancing! Brunch!

This summer. More of the same! Times a lot!

Making me happy

This semester is almost over, and besides the fact that I definitely just annihilated 

my A average in math with that last test, all of my other grades are muy perfecto. 

A boy, because I am twelve.

This is gross, but I've worn this cardigan a couple of times without washing it

and my perfumes have layered into this really magical smell.

I smell like a unicorn.

and the reason that i do not fall into this street is love

Currently!

Loving: My super-tidy, filled-with-clean-laundry closet. (Finally unpacked all suitcases. Now - someone give me a reason to pack another one!) Old friends getting in touch with me. New friends from unexpected places. Most recently thrifted treasures, including, and I know I always say this but it's because it's always true, the most dreamiest dream dress that Dreamy McDreamerson ever dreamed.

Reading: A book about Catholicism that will probably inspire its own post. I just finished:
Kafka on the Shore, Haruki Murakami
Let's Pretend This Never Happened, Jenny Lawson
The Bluest Eye, Toni Morrison
The Abortionist's Daughter, which I thought said "The Abolitionist's Daughter" and was a little disappointed when I got it home and realized my mistake. Related - my mom and I went on a date to see Lincoln this weekend and I liked it lots. My favorite part was when Abe was all "OMFG you guys. Get. Your. Shit. Together. I AM THE PRESIDENT." That's a direct quote.*

I want/need to start keeping track of the books I read because I keep starting new books only to realize that I've already read them. Which is mostly fine because I like re-reading books, only it happened the other day with A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius and who forgets reading a heartbreaking work of staggering genius?

*That is not a direct quote.

Watching: Have we met? I don't watch TV. I may or may not be the most out-of-touch person you know. I don't know who you know. But if you know me then it's probably me.

I'm lying though because I totally just watched The Mindy Project on hulu because Mindy would have had hurt feelings if I didn't. And I am dying for the next season of Downton Abbey to show up on Netflix, also Parenthood, also The United States of Tara.

Anticipating: The end of this semester, which will be known in my head forever as The First Semester Lindsay Actually Applied Herself, or maybe as The Semester Wherein Lindsay Realized She is Some Kind of Prodigy and Went Into Hiding in Order to Avoid Being Kidnapped by the Government and Subjected to a Litany of Tests. Le sigh.

Listening to: The daycare babies practicing for what sounds like either a Christmas concert or the end of days. In the case of the latter it'll be the cutest end ever.

Planning: What my life will look like next semester - and beyond! Buzz Lightyear will be involved on some level.

Working on: Christmas cards. And by 'working on' I mean it keeps occurring to me at odd moments that I need to update my addresses. And make cards. And by the time I do those things it will be next Christmas and the whole thing will start over.

Wishing: I could live at The Plaza like Eloise. Speaking of Christmas.