I’ve come to know something about myself lately. And I can’t decide if it’s attitude or age or the general handout of life drama. You tell me.
These days, anytime someone says to me, “You know so and so, right?” My immediate response is, “Yes, why, is he dead?”
Everyone is immediately dead before I get confirmation.
And oh! PHOTOS ON INSTAGRAM. The other day Neil Patrick Harris posted a photo of himself with Elton John, but before reading the caption, my knee-jerk assumption was, “AARON, ELTON JOHN DIE- hold on. No, he’s fine. It’s just his birthday. Never mind.”
I can’t handle photos like this. I assume everyone is dead.
It kind of goes along with the feeling that if your PHONE RINGS, something is terribly wrong. Why is my mom calling me? Why is she not just texting? “WHAT HAPPENED? WHO DIED?”
Her, “No one, I was just going to ask about dates to come see you.”
We can’t even talk about what happens to me when the FRONT DOOR BELL RINGS. We’re getting murdered. That’s what’s happening.
Which doesn’t make sense because why would the murderer ring the doorbell first? He wouldn’t. Yet in my head that’s the natural traumatic chain of events.
I’m fine, how are you?
Remember the days before cell phones (or maybe just SMART phones) when you’d dial a number, and pause right before pressing that last digit because then it would start dialing and what if you’re not ready? This is a real issue! You have to be PREPARED when pressing that last digit because it is on now. They’re about to answer. Do you have your opener prepared? No? I knew it.
I remember that feeling when smart phones came out, and pressing that final digit, but STILL needing to press the little green phone to dial. What a relief! There’s still time to double check to make sure you entered in the right numbers. Oh, the flood of solace experienced is like none other.
I do have a few human friends, why do you ask?
The other day Nat said to me, “You know what words I don’t like? Group hug.” I don’t think I’ve had a more proud mom moment to date than that.
Also, the other night I overheard Will say to Aaron in his tender little voice before bed, “I can’t decide if I should write a book or do yoga.”
Between that and group hug I am DONE.
Do you wear gloves when washing dishes? And if you do, do they not bother you? The loose rubber around each finger doesn’t make you insane? You don’t ever curse when washing dishes? Really? You’re serious?
Our temps are so skitzo it is LOONY trying to make plans. Window boxes maybe? Get the herb garden in, perhaps? Get my patio curtains up, definitely. Finish American Dirt, for sure. Aaron’s smoking another huge honkin’ brisket today and I’m conflicted with the emotions it bestows upon me. I’ll deal.
Also, who else was mildly obsessed with the giant container ship that was stuck in the Suez Canal a couple of weeks ago? It was all I could think about! I’m already excited for the made-for-tv movie when it comes out in five years because you know there will be one.
From this week, in case you missed it! :::: Angel Hair Pasta with Marinated Tomatoes and Seared Scallops! Crazy simple with exquisite flavors. And Skillet Gnocchi with Roasted Broccoli and Ricotta! Another stunner that takes no time at all. Get in both!
I mean, “group hug” truly is super gross.