I got my flu shot this morning in the Pre-K art room at my kids’ daycare, which was awesome and convenient and super hassle-free. But now I am having my typical/ expected reaction of low-level anxiety over injections in general. Specifically, once it’s in there, it’s in there, you know? There’s no going back, no removing it, no pumping the stomach. Medicine slinking around, getting all mixed in with body fluids that are now chemically different than than they were just a second ago. And if there’s something funky about the batch of medicine (thank you federal de-regulations), you’re just screwed and you could even die. I feel like there should be an entry for injections on this site, but I didn’t find one. However! You should visit it anyway, because it’s brilliant and because it helps distract me from the idea that I might have just been irreversibly poisoned by a perky nurse in the art room.
“Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.” This phrase, I tell you. It’s everywhere all of a sudden. And now, the presidential candidates are throwing it around (I’m looking at you, Mittens). What IS that? What does it even mean? I didn’t / don’t watch Friday Night Lights, obviously, but all it makes me think of is this 1996 television commercial for eye drops. I liked it better when the candidate for the nation’s highest office was talking about The Wire. Oh, Indeed.
Rolling down, Riding up. Tights doing one thing, camisole doing the other. Wanna know what’s going on under this dress? It’s all kinds of hot if you’re into that kind of thing, and by “that kind of thing” I mean exposed flab and bunchy fabric in all the wrong places. Lookin’ good on a Tuesday is much easier if nobody looks too close.
Time Machine (indulge me): 6 years ago this month. I was working with terminally ill patients and going through massage school; Bird was about to have her very first birthday and she was going to be a bunny for halloween. Andy was still working at the university. My, my how times have changed. If you’d described for me then what my life looks like now– one more kid, one less dog, huge career risks/ changes/ awesomeness just behind us as well as on the horizon–I would have either smiled knowingly or laughed you out of the room. Maybe both.
Completely Wrong. Google it.
On owls, and taxidermy, and fascinations with severed limbs: David Sedaris in the New Yorker. This is me holding a ticket for a Sedaris reading on November 1 and getting all excited.