Weekend accomplishments: Finally a weekend to myfuckingself edition
Saturday was of course New Year's Eve. None of us are party-on-NYE people, even before the 'rents increasing age and health issues rendered it moot. (Also, going back even further, by moving to rural areas beginning in the late 1990s.) I did the food, Jamie set off a few fireworks, we had some wine and prosecco but nobody went overboard. Phil actually made it until 11:00, at which point we allowed him to go to bed since it was midnight one time zone over.
I don't make new year's resolutions, I think people should work on what they think needs it whenever they notice it's a problem. For myself, I will say starting to use gummies in 2022 has led to me drinking a lot less, and that's probably not a bad thing. I mean I don't think I had a problem with it, but there were definitely a few Saturdays there where I went to bed thinking I probably should have had one (or two, let's be real) fewer Moscow mules or mint juleps or mojitos than I did. (Why do all of my favorite cocktails start with M?)
However, January is peak Texas ruby red grapefruit season, so in the short-term I do have a few salty dogs in my future. They're just so much better with fresh-squeezed juice.
Sunday I helped Mom with some last-minute packing, mostly in the interests of getting everyone out the door and out of my hair. They had planned to leave at 10:30, because that was Jamie's check-out time, and actually left at 10:45. That's like anyone who isn't my mother being 90 minutes early. I washed every dirty bath and kitchen towel in the house, then washed all of my bedding. I cleaned off every horizontal surface in the kitchen and vacuumed every rug in the living room. I threw away any Christmas leftovers still hanging around in the fridge. Then I just basked in the realization that I have a few days where I don't have to do a fucking thing for anyone else. They took Penny with them, so I don't even have to take her out to poop.
In the evening I took a couple gummies and watched Weird: The Al Yankovic Story, which was obviously a perfect combination. It's a totally unserious, not even remotely accurate biopic. I mean it ends with [alternate reality spoilers]Yankovic getting assassinated by hitmen in the pay of drug cartel boss/Yankovic's ex-girlfriend Madonna. Also "Eat It" was a totally original composition that "the kid from The Jackson Five" ripped off.
I once had a boyfriend who introduced me to Weird Al--who I'd of course been aware of, I grew up in the 1980s, but never really paid attention to--by making me watch the movie UHF. I introduced him to the work of Kurt Vonnegut.
Honestly, I feel like it was a fair trade.
There's all different kinds of genius.
Before bed I finished Mark Fisher's collection of essays about weird/eerie art, and started N.K. Jemisin's sequel to The City We Became, The Worlds We Make. I like them both, so whatever mini-existential crisis I was having about books seems to have passed.
Monday I had a very peaceful breakfast of coffee and buttered toast, which was exactly what I wanted to eat and I didn't have to worry about anyone else's blood sugar. I dusted and vacuumed my bedroom and did some minor re-decorating, taking down most of the diamond paintings I did at the start of the pandemic and finally putting up the almond blossoms poster I bought at the immersive Van Gogh show I went to in May. I got Domino's for lunch and got to eat it without a tiny dog gently but insistently pawing at my leg.
I'm going to spend the rest of the day doing cross stitch and watching some soothing true crime. It's back to work tomorrow, although Rian and the 'rents don't come back from Alabama until Thursday. Rian goes home the following Tuesday; it feels like he's been here for months. The holidays may be over for everyone else, but I have to start thinking about which Mardi Gras parades I want to attend this year.
Here's this week's progress on my cross stitch:
I ran out of the yellow floss with one tiny spot left, aaargh.
I don't make new year's resolutions, I think people should work on what they think needs it whenever they notice it's a problem. For myself, I will say starting to use gummies in 2022 has led to me drinking a lot less, and that's probably not a bad thing. I mean I don't think I had a problem with it, but there were definitely a few Saturdays there where I went to bed thinking I probably should have had one (or two, let's be real) fewer Moscow mules or mint juleps or mojitos than I did. (Why do all of my favorite cocktails start with M?)
However, January is peak Texas ruby red grapefruit season, so in the short-term I do have a few salty dogs in my future. They're just so much better with fresh-squeezed juice.
Sunday I helped Mom with some last-minute packing, mostly in the interests of getting everyone out the door and out of my hair. They had planned to leave at 10:30, because that was Jamie's check-out time, and actually left at 10:45. That's like anyone who isn't my mother being 90 minutes early. I washed every dirty bath and kitchen towel in the house, then washed all of my bedding. I cleaned off every horizontal surface in the kitchen and vacuumed every rug in the living room. I threw away any Christmas leftovers still hanging around in the fridge. Then I just basked in the realization that I have a few days where I don't have to do a fucking thing for anyone else. They took Penny with them, so I don't even have to take her out to poop.
In the evening I took a couple gummies and watched Weird: The Al Yankovic Story, which was obviously a perfect combination. It's a totally unserious, not even remotely accurate biopic. I mean it ends with [alternate reality spoilers]Yankovic getting assassinated by hitmen in the pay of drug cartel boss/Yankovic's ex-girlfriend Madonna. Also "Eat It" was a totally original composition that "the kid from The Jackson Five" ripped off.
I once had a boyfriend who introduced me to Weird Al--who I'd of course been aware of, I grew up in the 1980s, but never really paid attention to--by making me watch the movie UHF. I introduced him to the work of Kurt Vonnegut.
Honestly, I feel like it was a fair trade.
Click to viewThere's all different kinds of genius.
Before bed I finished Mark Fisher's collection of essays about weird/eerie art, and started N.K. Jemisin's sequel to The City We Became, The Worlds We Make. I like them both, so whatever mini-existential crisis I was having about books seems to have passed.
Monday I had a very peaceful breakfast of coffee and buttered toast, which was exactly what I wanted to eat and I didn't have to worry about anyone else's blood sugar. I dusted and vacuumed my bedroom and did some minor re-decorating, taking down most of the diamond paintings I did at the start of the pandemic and finally putting up the almond blossoms poster I bought at the immersive Van Gogh show I went to in May. I got Domino's for lunch and got to eat it without a tiny dog gently but insistently pawing at my leg.
I'm going to spend the rest of the day doing cross stitch and watching some soothing true crime. It's back to work tomorrow, although Rian and the 'rents don't come back from Alabama until Thursday. Rian goes home the following Tuesday; it feels like he's been here for months. The holidays may be over for everyone else, but I have to start thinking about which Mardi Gras parades I want to attend this year.
Here's this week's progress on my cross stitch:
I ran out of the yellow floss with one tiny spot left, aaargh.