Friday Flotsam

Frrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrwould-it-freak-you-if-I-just-typed-iday?

Something happened this week that I need to share with you. I’m not proud of it. I’m not touting it by any means. But when it happened, my entire existence and the way I view the world went topsy turvy and I’m not sure how to recover from it. Maybe you can help me.

You know you think you know things? Like really know them? Like borderline solid footing of life?

Right.

This week we were watching The Twilight Zone with the kids, and at the end of an episode I said, “That’s weird. Normally Alfred Hitchcock makes an appearance in every episode. Like a little cameo. I didn’t see him in that one.”

And Aaron goes, “Well this is the Twilight Zone.”

And I said, “Right, I know. I didn’t see Hitchcock.”

And he said, “It’s because this is the Twilight Zone.”

And I said, “BRO, I know. Where was Al?”

And he said, “Nowhere. This is the Twilight Zone. Rod Serling. Not Hitchcock. You’re thinking of Alfred Hitchcock Presents. Different show.”

And I was like, “YOUR FACE IS A DIFFERENT SHOW.”

. . . you guys. My entire life I have intertwined the two shows as one. How can I face the world? How can I face myself?

Bottom line, I cannot wait to show Natalie the Twilight series. (#teamedward)

Speaking of, we started watching Dr. Pimple Popper the last few weeks and OOHHHHHHHHH NOOOOOO, STOP THAT BUSINESS.

JUST STOP IT. (but don’t.)

Have you watched? It’s lit-rally the type of show you can’t look at but also can’t not look at. We’re talking cysts and lipomas being cut into and exploded out of bodies like rotting oatmeal. It is horrific and disgusting and we’re obsessed.

This is why it’s taking me so long to get through books these days. I’m on the sofa, reading, and they put on Dr. Pimple Popper and I’m grotesquely hooked. Cannot look away.

Please send help.

(This is not an ad. I just liked the look of these bottles at an event last night where Anna, Mindy and I all bought the same hippie perfume roller and we talked about how we’re all going to smell alike now but not because of our own individual scents and what if one of us smells awful with the roller. And it made us giggle. The end.)

The other night I was having this dream that turned into a nightmare last second. And when I say last second I mean truly right at the moment when my alarm went off.

What happened was, I was on this deck. No idea whose deck it was, or where I was. But there was an outdoor shower that I’d just used, and I was dressed and standing on this deck looking around. There were stairs that went down from the deck, like two-tiered down to the ground. I spotted a black cow bull thing at the bottom. The cow bull thing looked up at me and starting running up the stairs. (who knew cow bulls could run up stairs.)

The thing got up on the deck in the time it took me to crouch behind some chairs in the corner. I used the chairs as a shield AND a hiding place from the cow. But it saw me anyway and started sort of charging at the chairs. I kept pushing the chairs toward the cow and as it reared its head back to come straight at me, my ALARM WENT OFF.

What.

On.

Earth.

Who wants to dissect that matador sh*t? I’ll wait right here.

Weekend plans?

It’s a long one! It’s a hot one. And we need rain in a crippling way. (<–old lady talk) Tonight we’ll hit the pool with friends (for maybe the last time!), then I have NINE MILES to run in the morning. (hold me) The rest of the weekend is completely open. Garden manicuring, tacos with friends, book reading and general putzing around.

From this week! Whipped Citrus Feta with Herbed Focaccia. I will BEG if I have to. Here’s the video! And Book Club! Three of my recent faves, and your input as well. Get in both, pronto.

Oh – are you planting a fall garden? If so, tell me every single little detail.