Friday Flotsam

Frrrrrrrrrrrrrrr r r r r rrrrreeeee! duh. day.

I have a very serious question for you. Very serious.

It’s crucial to know this information because the result is a direct reflection of who you are as a person. Where you stand in the world, how you navigate life choices, the nucleus of your souuuulaaaaah.

And that question is, when you crack an egg into a skillet, how much of the clear goop do you get out? Like, is it an obsession to use one half of the shell to push the rest of the snot out and into the skillet? Or is it like, whatever loogie is dangling from the shell gets tossed immediately because there is just no time for this riffraff.

I’m somewhere in the middle. Which makes sense because I’m an on-the-cusp Leo/Virgo girlie. At first I care. Like, I care so much and so deeply. We have to get that snot out. That’s a lot of egg! And then .5 seconds into trying to get the dangle from the shell to the pan to my face to my heart I am over it. OVER IT.

Where do you stand?

Yesterday was the first day that I noticed the shadows changing eeeever so slightly. A little deeper, a little more contrast. Do you know what I mean? Do you notice the shadows, too? It’s always at this time of year, the end of August/beginning of September. That little promise of autumnal arrival.

Don’t you feel like light is a whole personality in itself? It’s softer in some parts of the year, a little harsher in others.

(you’re like, girl you went from egg snot to light personalities. pick a lane!)

But really, I find it so poetic. The light and its voice. So this afternoon when you’re outside watering or taking a walk or running an errand, look at the shadows. See if you can see it. Under the leaves are a tad darker, and on top of the leaves there’s a different kind of brightness. A brighter brightness.

But if you’d rather think about egg snot, I’m good with that, too.

The other day I was catching up with my mom on the phone. I can tell I’m a full-on 49-year old because literally the first words out of my mouth were, “Well, the flies are bad this year.”

YOU GUYS. I HAVE TURNED INTO THAT PERSON.

Who cares about flies! (I do)

But why was that my opener? Out of alllllll the things I could have lead with, I chose flies. And how I’ve been killing them. And how our entire city is complaining about how awful the flies are this year. I am old.

But if you are old too and need to know what I’ve using to take down and destroy the flies, I got you.

It’s called Rescue. And it’s disgusting and fascinating and gross and amazing. It traps the flies by luring them into this bottle with water in it that smells like decomp (from a packet). Horrific. But it works! My entire trap is filled up with dead flies. Filled up!! I had some moms over last week before we went to see Indigo Girls and I was showing them because again, 49 years old and these things are making me tick, and they were like, “You have to throw that away, Bev.” I was like, “I will when it’s filled! But you just empty it and add another packet.” And they were like, “No, just throw it away and don’t look back.”

Nope. I’m too invested.

Wait, did you leave?

Weekend plans?

We have a little bit of this, and a little bit of that. Watching a high school football scrimmage tonight with friends, a sleepover, a trip to see sunflowers near Lawrence, a cinnamon roll, some yard work, finishing Blue Sisters (it’s intense!), and kicking it. I need a little bit of downtime. A good recharge. We have shadows to look at, bruh!

From this week:: A criminally delicious Asian Pork with Bean Thread Noodles. Make it and love it already. And the video! Also posted a little collection of estate sale outings. Still brainstorming my Substack for that, but for now, a little video!

Okay tell me your Labor Day plans. What are you reading and eating and seeing and doing? And are you killing flies at all?