extra on the line

August 18, 2017

Holy shit, I am in my thirties and I am watching Sister Act for like the dozenth time but in Spanish for the first time, and I just realized how incredibly dirty that Give Me Gravy Tonight song is.

I am looking back over my time with Saturn in my sign right now, which has been since December 23, 2014. I am doing this because Saturn has been in retrograde in Sagittarius since April 6th of this year and is going to be going direct in a couple of weeks, on the 25th. Saturn will move completely out of my sign on December 19th, and then the Capricorns can have it for a couple of years and they are welcome to it.

Not saying that this hasn’t been the most productive, getbettering several years of my life or anything. I feel like I’ve gone through the flames or the kiln of some blacksmith or potter or ideally some eccentric delightful mixture of both, and come out on the other side stronger and more symmetrical and more fitted for use. But it has been difficult and more and more I feel the exhaustion of it.

The problem is that having the nose to the grindstone for a couple of years will get you all kinds of places, but you will leave a bunch of your magic in convenient holding spots along the way so you can better focus on the task at hand, and then when you reach your destination you will have no idea where the magics went or how to go find them again. Some of it you will be able to find again. Some of it you will not. Some of it you will not even want back. But the main thing is, a lot of the magic that will be in your life from here on out you will have to make from scratch.

And I do not remember how to do this. In place of magic there are math and science in my brain.

So for a start, I am going back over blog entries from winter 2014 till now, and seeing if I get any  insights.

So far I have found this, and it literally made me laugh out loud:

I got married this year, and so did a bunch of my closest friends, and some of them are starting families, some of them are starting new careers, all of us are mucking through a long, complicated, intricate chapter of life called Actually Growing Up But For Real This Time. Getting past my teens was just an introduction to a decade long party time adventure, where I experienced and learned and grew a lot but was in fact most often reveling luxuriously in a second childhood, this time with power and capital. This new bout of growing up, this is the real stuff.

HAha. Apparently less than three years ago I believed that you ever grow up for real. I guess one really does do a lot of growing up between 31 and 33 at least.

photographs on trial

July 29, 2017

So this is a picture of me in a dirndl and braces at sixteen. I was part of a church play. It is probably the most embarrassing picture of me in the world, and I am including some with me picking my nose.

If ever I am a politician you’d like to quietly get out of the way with some compromising photography, know that you will have to work hard and dexterous to lower the bar.

Despite the more than adequate efforts of a lot of good kind people that I have enjoyed throughout my adulthood, nobody has had quite the success at getting me to eat something that my dog does.

She just flops down in front of me and stares at me until I go get something to eat, and give her some. I kind of have no trouble believing that the nanny in Peter Pan was exceptionally efficient.

get fudz


This morning I learned that I do not know how to open a can of freezer rolls.

At thirty three years of age I stood alone in my kitchen and gradually lost my shit over the instructions. Press spoon against seam? What spoon? Any spoon? What seam?

I considered waking my husband up to consult him. I considered texting a friend. I considered looking it up on the internet. Then I decided that I am a strong independent grown ass adult with a mind of adequately enquiring bent, and I could probably figure it out. Apparently scores of other humans have been managing this just fine for years, I have not actually encountered any stories of anyone else having difficulty with this task, or of anybody losing an eye to a particularly explosive spoon/seam press.

So I got a spoon, not exactly any spoon, it was selected specifically for its sturdiness, and began pressing it against the seam. After a few attempts at what were clearly the wrong angles, (why is there not a picture or diagram or something), there was an utterly satisfying pop and a bunch of pillsbury dough poofed out of the can. Seldom I am sure has victory ever been so sweet.

Because, pastries.


Muwaha. The days between now and my weekly Saturday morning butterhorn are looking a lot shorter all of a sudden.


a go-go

July 24, 2017

One of the girls I always talk to in Spanish class came in today wearing a Gwar t-shirt, setting off a cavalcade of reactions in my brain, which had only been awake for about forty minutes.

Firstly, I thought, oh Gwar! I haven’t thought about Gwar for awhile. I only know about Gwar from Empire Records. I haven’t watched Empire Records in like eight years.

Almost simultaneously I was thinking, wow, you really never can tell who’s going to be into what music. My (admittedly limited) exposure to Gwar fans (see: Mark/c[?] from Empire Records) had prepared me for someone younger, whose clothes fit a lot worse and whose hairstyle is on the opposite end of the spectrum. Probably they are getting high a lot and skateboarding down handrails. I tend to think of them (apparently, as this was the first time I was thinking of them at all) as whippersnappers. This girl has floral patterned notebook binders and always looks sparkling and beautiful, even at the very beginning of class, which is at the very beginning of what might decently be called the day. She always dresses nicely, always has her homework done on time, and always has a neat little nutritious homemade lunch to eat while the rest of us scarf granola bars like animals. I tend to think of her as a lady.

Then she took off her cardigan, and my brain did a back cartwheel and landed on its ass laughing at itself, oh my god all that thinking for nothing (and so early in the morning too). She smiled at me brightly. ¡Buenos dias! Her t-shirt, her entire t-shirt, read:


My version of save the cheerleader save the world.


Yes it really does relate, the dog sweat smell over here could very well bring down kingdoms and principalities.