It is Monday morning, but you knew that. I am in my kitchen, at my round breakfast table, writing to you atop my grandmother’s Christmas tablecloth.
Gramma didn’t go in for subtle when it came to Christmas. She wasn’t all, “Oh, I’ll just place this pine branch across a white tablecloth and call it a day.” No.
Don’t you hate it when people pronounce it “acrosst”?
Anyway, it’s Monday, which I mentioned. I had a ridiculous morning in which everything took longer than I wanted it to, and just as I was getting ready to write you, and also rite you, with my communion and my oils, I got a text from my trainer, fmr., who is chipper in the a.m. By 8 a.m. she has been up three and a half hours and has already gotten in 10,000 steps and worked with at least two clients.
GOOD MORNING! [happy emoji of some sort]. OK if I get my equipment today!!?!?! [sunny cheerful embrace life active emojis that enjoy kale] [is there even a kale emoji? because she may have used that]
I’m all, wait, wut? Who is this? What…is this still 2020? Who am I?
Anyway, I had to lug the exercise ball, the 8-pound weights, the 3-pound weights, the resistance band, the OTHER resistance band holding its fist in the air and the…well I guess that was it. But I had to lug it all to the porch. That was today’s workout.
…OH MY GOD WHAT’S WITH THIS COFFEE?
I’ve been taking that anti-seizure medication for four weeks now, and I think it’s messing with my sense of taste. I can TASTE things, COVID police, they just taste wrong. Like, I made ground turkey the other day and it tasted like bug spray. This coffee I’m supposed to be giving up anyway tastes like … hang on…
Maybe it’s because I have my violet lip balm on. It just tastes off. It would be virtually impossible to have the COVID as I go nowhere and do nothing, although I did see the Lottie Blancos this weekend for about 10 minutes, outdoors at a distance with our masks on. Maybe I got cursed with the COVID then. That would be just my fekking luck while the rest of you go off on girls weekends unscathed.
This would have been the weekend that the L Blancos would have had their Christmas party, so because they couldn’t have it, they made little gift bags and went to each guest’s house and dropped off a bag really fast. In my bag was dark chocolate, and homemade poppy seed cake with this glaze on it that is delicious, and pretty much I have torn through my gift bag and please note the juxtaposition between the trainer and my Lottie Blanco gift bag.
I am enormous, have I mentioned? It’s absurd. All I do is lie around and read romance magazines from bygone eras and grow large. And is that so bad, given we are in a plague? Probably. Because see above re huge. I forget being huge is also bad for one’s health.
In other news, I tried to start making my end-of-year video this weekend. First of all, I have literally added no new songs to my music this year. NONE! Now, romance magazines from bygone eras. THOSE I’ve added. Cats? Added! Pounds! Brought those on board!
So then I tried to look at songs I already own, to find a song that says, yes, this sums up our current situation, but it seemed so obvious to have, like,
So I’m still playing with songs. I finally just went down my list and waited till a song delighted me and the only song that did was the Pixies’ Where Is My Mind. Which has nothing to do with anything; I just like it.
John Lennon needed to get over himself. There’s nothing worse than a youngish man anyway–men that age are so certain they know everything. Then be the most famous man of your era and be kind of an asshole anyway, and you get John Lennon. Carrying on about how he was abandoned while abandoning his son. It rankles.
That said, I have high hopes that he’d have realized all this had he had a chance to age. He had good person potential.
Also, I just have one more thing to say. If you’re on Facebook of June, we have a little thing going on where we’re posing with our Christmas trees, based on this series of old snapshots someone found of middle-aged midcentury women posing with their trees.
I thought I’d saved some of those to my desktop but it appears I did not. I did, however, save a bunch of midcentury women in furs, such as this gem, and everything about this photo delights me other than thinking of the poor animal. Still.
Anyway, I took my OWN photo with my “Christmas tree,” which is really a foot-tall feather tree that Wedding Alex gave me. I keep getting her leftover feminine Xmas decorations that her husband eschews.
As time marches on and I see more comments re my festive holiday photo, I am realizing people do not realize I AM WEARING A DRESS. What the eff do you think I’m wearing? My festive holly t-shirt?
It’s a dress I ordered offa the internet last year, for my work Christmas party. It was like $6 and came from China and it’s practically see-through so I didn’t wear it. But I also put this photo on Instagram and people are all, “That’s a DRESS?” and I just can’t figure out what the hell else it could be.
In summation, yes. It’s a dress. I also tossed it, as not only is it see-through, it doesn’t even fit, because all I do is lie around and read romance magazines from bygone eras and eat literal pound cake.
We need to bring back the long-form romance magazine. If I have the attention span for them, others do too. I like them not because reading romance interests me that much. It’s part of my obsession with reading about the everyday of bygone eras, a thing that began with Laura Ingalls Wilder, got further enhanced by my 1940s photographs of Norma and Vern, and is probably why I keep blogging even though everyone else went on to, I don’t know. What does everyone else do now? They tick and tock or whatever.
I just love reading about how someone gets a letter saying, “My secretary quit. Would you like to be my secretary now?” Or how they have coffee after dinner. Or how they’re delighted to have a “cute two-room apartment.” That’s the stuff that rivets me. I never care that Brett huskily tells Mona how beautiful she is. We all know Brett’s gonna fuck up somehow.
I gotta go. I knew it’d be quiet at first, as everyone has to do whatever it is they do first at work before stuff gets to me, but now there are messages coming to me asking if I can, you know, copy edit stuff and I said yes. She said yes! He went to Jared! He went to copy edit!