I have many things to discuss today, all of which are . . . ahem, of equal importance (you’re like, yeah right), but we HAVE to start with Taylor’s new song. It’s only mandatory. Have you heard it? How many times have you listened so far, besides 400 million? And when do you plan to see the movie? (ASH, we have to figure this out)
The song is nothing but emotional wreckage perfection. I saw on Reese Witherspoon’s IG yesterday (and you probably saw it, too) that Swift wrote the song while she was recording Folklore (when she read the book) which gives this old-world haunted feel to it and obviously sends me spiraling even further. They only used instruments that were alive (alive?) AROUND – that’s it, around during that era. It’s spooky and downcast and beautiful and ethereal and painful and wonderful. I’ll never listen to anything else for the rest of my life. (until she releases something else, duh)
Listen to this.
(mom, skip this part)
The other day Will looked me straight in the eye with this little knowing smirk and he said to me, “Mom, what if we changed out the SK in Skittles and changed it to SH and the whole bag tasted like poop.”
Me, “Like shittles?” (trying to stifle all the laughs in my gut because o.m.g. that is genius.)
Will, “You said a bad word! Mom said a bad wooord!”
Me, “No I didn’t, I said shittles. Like shih tzu or shiitake.”
Will, “So can I say it?”
Me, “No. . . .Maybe.”
Shittles. I will now be using the word shittles for any cursing needs for the rest of my life.
You’re welcome to use it, too, for a small fee.
Yesterday I had a mole removed right under my clavicle (psa: get your yearly skin scans, yo!) and while it didn’t appear harmful to the doc, I went ahead and asked her to remove it because it looked like a roly-poly with measles just taking a chill little stroll up my chest.
So it’s gone.
Except last night when I peeked under the bandaid it now looks like a withered up, petrified crater hole near Roswell, New Mexico.
LOOK I KNOW IT’S BEEN ONE DAY.
And I know I’m supposed to wash it today, add more vaseline and change out the bandage for the next 5ish days. But what if it looks cratery for the rest of time? Shittles, you guys, this could be bad.
Do you have any mole-removal-scar-healing tips? Tell me while I listen to Carolina again.
I’m ready when you are.
Okay I have another Unpopular Opinion that I need to share with you all.
This one is probably delicate. So many say it. So many willingly type out the words. Like, on purpose. It’s mostly read and heard in the wild, like on Facebook or Instagram, when someone is getting married or celebrating an anniversary. And my soul barfs every time.
It’s when people say, “this thing called life.”
Or, “this crazy thing called life.”
It’s like, the FIRST person who typed out the words, “So happy blah blah blah to do this thing called life.” – okay. Fine. But no one else can. Not one single person else. It had its moment, and that moment is now over. Let’s not say that anymore, please. It’s horrifically hokey.
Agree? Disagree? Give me your most current Unpopular Opinion because I will not be left out on Catty Island alone.
I’m hosting my school mom friends tonight! And of course two things, because you know me and weather: it’s going to thunderstorm from 8am to noon, which will keep me indoors and unable to do all that weeding that you see I need to get to up there. AND THEN it gets butt-hot and swamp-mouth-muggy by the time my friends show up. Well shittles. (I’m still so excited and will you show you every little food and style detail later on today! Starting with this jazzy party playlist. That’s right.)
From this week, in case you ignored me completely::: French-Inspired Pasta Salad! Yogurt based and zingy to the max. Plus a how-to video! Also this Avocado Cucumber Salsa stuffed with nuts and seeds and it’s DELISH. And a video on that one, too! Lots of exclamation points you had to deal with just now, so if you need a moment, I get it.
Next week it’s all books and music, so pony up, pigeon.