Should I just go ahead and invest in the dang Stasher bags already? (jumpin’ right in.)
I see them EVERYWHERE. ALL THE TIME. EVERYONE has them, and I must be like everyone, right?
But! They look like fabulous little (exprawnsive) bags that I can’t stop day dreaming about. I have some cheaper ones from Amazon that have worked just fine since August. But still. They’re all so cute. And they appear to be super sturdy. And the sizes, like which one(s) besides all of them would I get? AND THE COLORS. That Mojave bundle is damaging me.
Are they worth the hype? Will I never be the same?
Be straight with me in 2020.
Do you have any friends that call you a pet name?
And I don’t mean a nick name. I mean like, “honey,” “baby, “sweetie,” “booger,” – along those lines. I was talking with my sis-in-law over Christmas about this, and she was on the verge of projectile vomiting because one of her acquaintances called her “sweetie” in passing. And she was like, “Do you have any friends that call you a pet name like that? I almost punched her.”
And I realized, I do! I do have one! Only one. (Are you already completely grossed out?) Because at first I was like, “Are you kidding me, no. No one calls me anything, and if they did I would hurl all over them.” Because this is the thing. Most of my closest friends are dry and sarcastic by nature, so that sort of buttery velvet expression isn’t natural between us.
EXCEPT ONE. Who funnily enough, is the most dry and sarcastic one of all. But when she sees any of us in person, she pats our butts gently (I’m serious) and says, “Hi, honey,” in this soft, connective voice that’s not awkward but smooth and calming. I don’t know how she does it! And she’s the only one who can get away with this type of nonsense.
I’m curious though – do you pet name your pals? Or would you roundhouse kick them in the boob before being called “sweetie?”
These are the things I think about at night and all the time.
I’m finishing The Great Alone this morning (yeah I’m still talking about it) and I’m falling apart at the seams over this.
IS IT WILD. (no pun intended) Omg, what an adventure this book has been! Also, remind me to never go to Alaska in the ’70s. Or to name a child ERNT.
I have 50 pages left and I can’t imagine what’s left. So much has happened. So much insanity. But everyone’s telling me these last 50 pages are a doozer. (yes I know it’s doozy but you do know me, right?) Please please let it be something to do with Matthew, ugh.
I’ve been cold the entire time reading this book, too. It’s weird how reading about Alaska makes your bones hurt. It also had me googling words like “ulu” and “mukluk” and “bunny boots” and “cheechako” and “breakup.”
It’s not the Brad and Jennifer kind, just so you know. Although it was icy HAHAHAHAHAHA.
Do you have goals for the new year?
Mine are simple:
1) find a bra I actually like.
2) accept my eye color.
3) run a 10k
4) renovate our hizz
One is massive, one is doable, one I’ve already done, and one I’ll figure out at some point.
Tell me yours! Big or small. Trivial or pivotal. It all matters. And if you’re still here (wait, did you leave?), here’s my one tip for this new year:
Find beauty everywhere. It’s there. And if it’s not, create it. And then stand back and appreciate it and yourself. Not every day has to be perfection, it never will be. But that’s okay because once you find reverie in the unspoken things that make life so great, you’ll find it. And by it, I mean happiness. The end.
That was either hugely vague and obnoxious or insightful and awakening. I’ll leave it up to you, honey!
We’re getting snooooooow! And ice, too, but mainly snooooooow! I have MAJOR plans on Saturday during our snowstorm which include a fire, a book, a cup of tea (on a full-blown wine break for January except one day because we’re having friends over), new curtains for our bedroom, art to hang, ceramics with the gremlins, and chili.
So, yes to the Stasher bags or . . .