Chapman’s Original Mint Chip ice cream that comes in the same cardboard box that contained the Neapolitan ice cream I used to covet as a kid.
My kid’s “epic fort” that is now consuming half of his room. (He even installed electricity—his bedside lamp—so he could read in it.)
Cats acting like security to prevent the paparazzi (me) from taking pictures of said fort
An old pair of Birkenstocks, a new pair of purple sandals and a new pair of black canvas loafers choosing violence because they are battling amongst themselves to see which one of them will bless me with the most blisters.
Rereading
JulieNicole Chung’s When You Can’t Find the Words whenever the weight of the world’s woes tries to convince me I’m wasting time making art and writing. (I’m sorry. I incorrectly listed Nicole Chung’s first name as Julie in the original email I sent out for this post. That’s why it’s crossed out now before the correction.)Ordering more N95 masks.
Booking my fifth dose.
Still listening to Eurovision… although I have branched out to include songs from previous years too.
Wondering when my new ENT will call to confirm a date for my tonsillectomy and how I can avoid a rheumatoid arthritis flare if I must stop taking any of my meds before surgery.
Wondering when I should call my new ENT (again) to verify they did in fact correct the wrong phone numbers they had originally listed in my file. (And why was the doctor’s name installed in gold behind reception before setting up the office’s voice mail?)
Wondering if it would be better to tattoo, “only take my tonsils only”, OR “[New ENT’s name] said my nose is fine” on my face with a Sharpie because I’m not 100% convinced there won’t be more confusion at the hospital… like the confusion I endured during my first appointment with the new ENT. (The old ENT sent notes claiming I needed surgery to correct a deviated septum and said nothing about the titan-sized tonsils that have tormented me for decades; the same tonsils my family doctor wrote about in her initial referral for an urgent removal.)
Trying to savour this achievement for a little longer.
Taking another big swing at submitting almost 2000 of my words for publication AND for a place in a program I want to be a part of!!!
Writing some more.
Arnold Palmers made with raspberry iced tea and lemonade.
Watching all the things. (Remember to read the PS below to find those 13 things I promised you.)
Giving plenty of space on calls with my fellow chronic illness pals so we can vent about the part-time and full-time jobs our autoimmune diseases refuse to let us retire from AND to laugh our asses off at our dark humour that’s being fertilized by our pain and funk.
Reading through the piles of books I’m tripping over.
Checking out more books for myself from the library.
Buying more books for my kid because his illuminated fort has helped him inhale his old ones.
Being reminded why I’m still grateful for virtual options when an instructor shares how they have tested positive for Covid… and then this same instructor will wonder out loud if they have time to go back to the café to grab another croissant… as they eat their first one, on camera, with their just-coughed-in hands. (And yet, people are baffled by the precautions I’m still taking.)
Stumbling upon a picture of me on a website of a ranch I visited a few years ago. It’s a picture I asked a friend to take with my phone, and I then posted on Instagram. I never consented to having my picture posted on their website. However, I look fucking fabulous… and I’m too exhausted to deal with trying to get it removed. Also, based on a previous experience with the owner, I suspect it would be a waste of my energy. (And yes, my husband will probably remind me again that our backyard is not big enough for a horse by the time you’re reading this.)
Missing these walks with my menfolk because of the heat… and my blisters.
How’s your summer treating you?
Enjoy the rest of your day,
PS. My insomnia likes to watch things instead of reading… I tried to appease it with these 13 things:
Brooklyn Nine-Nine wasn’t a show I could get into when it first aired, but anything that includes Andre Braugher saying “Balthazar is a thirsty bitch” is a winner in my books. It’s quirky, and sweet, and currently on repeat in my house.
The Bear (FX) is INTENSE and AMAZING!!! Thank goodness there will be a season two! Have you seen it?
Good Luck to You, Leo Grande is interesting. I didn’t love it, but I didn’t hate it and I appreciated how it ended. I think I really watched it because after what Alan Rickman’s character did to Emma Thompson’s in Love Actually, I wish her future characters nothing but the best.
Speaking of Alan Rickman and Emma Thompson, they starred in the movie The Song of Lunch, which is based on Christopher Reid’s poem of the same name. I’m afraid Alan’s character still treats Emma like shit, but the language and what they’ve done to visually present this poem is delightful to witness.
The second season of Only Murders in the Building (Hulu) is already bringing me a lot of joy.
As did the second season of Rutherford Falls (Peacock). I need more scenes with Reagan and Terry, please.
The last season of Better Call Saul (AMC) is a stop staring at your phone or else you’ll miss something, kind of last season in the best ways possible.
Killing It (Peacock) made me laugh out loud during the first few episodes, and I thought it would be like Brooklyn Nine-Nine. And it is in some ways. But then the bloody violence got bumped up to an 11 and made me regret letting my kid watch it with us. The adults will be screening season two on their own.
This is Going to Hurt (BBC One) does exactly what the title says it will. And it’ll make you miss all the characters long after you’ve binged the few episodes in the season. It’s got the perfect blend of humour and misery.
Loot (Apple TV+) is sweet, and I adore it… and I still want it to do even more.
The Old Man (FX) has me hooked. It makes me yell at my TV, wish I owned dogs that followed German commands, and feeds my old man fantasies.
Pretty Hard Cases (CBC) has the right amount of CanCon (Canadian content) cheesiness to satisfy my cravings for Toronto. I love how the two main characters, who are so different from each other, work together. Plus, witnessing the side conversations between the two main Black women characters is life giving!
The Boys (Amazon Prime) season three (really all the seasons) is gross. But I’m sure I’ll be even more grossed out by season four.