(Over)packing, and other things.

What I’m _________________ Wednesday.

Yep. I’m packing. Going to FL this afternoon to see my mom. For two weeks. For the first time in two years…because…last year, the incident, and I don’t mean Covid.

The other day I mentioned to my mom that the date I was coming home on was March 2 and she replied “Oh…March? I didn’t realize you were staying until March…that’s so long… but that will be ok…that will be good.” 😂😂😂

Sure. Sounds like it will be “great.”

Nah, it’ll be awesome.

My sister and nieces are coming from MI so I’ll stay with my mom for a couple days at the beginning of the trip and a couple at the end. In the middle I’ll wheel my suitcase across the parking lot and around the corner where my awesome aunt and uncle are willing to put me up. For “that long.” 🤣🤣🤣

I’m excited to se my sissy and my nieces, especially because one of them is a senior in HS so this is our last February girls trip for a while. Bittersweet, but I’m sure it’ll be more sweet than bitter—they are great, fun humans. You’ll probably hear more about them next week.

So anyway what else is taking up my time?

Watching TV

I say “TV” but given my programming choices I should probably call it the “boob tube.” So let’s just get the real embarrassing sh-t out of the way.

First up, The Bachelor. I’m not sure what embarrasses me most—actually watching it, admitting I watch it, or having an opinion about it. But here goes: Clayton is awful. He’s so socially awkward and is a horrible conversationalist “You really crushed (the date),” or “You really brought it today” like it was some big game or he approves of the performance. A common exchange inevitably includes one or more awkward pauses, going something like this: “Yeah, so I’m so glad you just told me that. I love seeing you be so vulnerable. I’m really impressed by you.” Loud slobbering kiss. Repeat. On Monday when one of the women told him she was a virgin his reply started with a nervous giggle, then he went on to say that he would have never known. (Um, Clayton, you know you can’t tell a virgin by looking at her right?) He made it worse by adding that he never would have known because he’s physically attracted to her. (Um, Clayton, you know virgins aren’t attraction repellant, right? Then he asked her if she’d never been in love, how would she know she’s in love? (Um, Clayton, how did you know? 🤦🏼‍♀️ ) He seems nervous all the time (perpetual dry mouth), and he’s a terrible dresser (unless the last two months at homes has me even further behind the fashion trends than usual and the sweater- (even hooded ones) blazer combo is in style). (?) Dooesn’t help that he often (almost always) has a ginormous wedgie—“Psst…Clayton…letter in the mailbox.” Add to all this that he looks like he’s in extreme pain 95% of the time when he’s giving a rose—dude, if you’re falling in love with 17 women, smile! And lastly his underbite is distracting. Other than that it’s a good solid waste of two hours a week. Solid waste. Yup. Pretty crappy programming. Nevertheless, she persisted.

And of course, I’m all caught up with those completely cray bitches on the Real Housewives of Salt Lake City. The recipe is simple: go someplace, have irrational screaming fights, wake up and skulk around the rental house in overpriced comfy clothes and sunglasses, make up (kind of), repeat. All I have to say about that is how can any of them ever go out in public after how they act? It’s complete nonsense. I love it.

Actually, now that I’ve typed that, I’m not really embarrassed by any of that—I can own it. I have my mindless guilty watch pleasures for when Kerri plays hockey—we watch the good shows together. And while I respect people’s choices, watching all the drama makes me glad that I would never make such choices—I’m comfortable right where I am, thank you.

I’ve been watching a good bit of the Olympics, including sports I don’t follow, but pretend I am following. A real exchange from the other day: “I put on curling because it’s the US women, unless you’d rather cross country skiing.” “Good call, cross country is so boring.” Then, “Kerri, do you know how many ends there are in a game of curling? Or is it a curling match?” I got a little side eye and that “what have you been smoking?” look. And we laugh. And keep watching.

I love the Brittany Bowe-Erin Jackson story. Short version: Erin is the world #1 in the 500M speedskating event and failed to qualify a few weeks ago due to some skate slippage in trials. Brittany qualified for that event and something else so she gave Erin her spot in the 500 because she believed she deserved it more. Fast-forward (and then rewind) to this past Sunday: Erin won gold with her friend Brittany cheering her on wildly—first Black woman ever to win a speedskating gold. Boom. Happy Black History Month. I’m not crying. You’re crying. Bonus was turning the TV on right as Erin started her race so we got to see her skate and—when the next pair of skaters failed to beat her time—win. Brittany did what many people choose not to do—the right thing. (And make no mistake, it was the very rightest of right thing—she ended up in the event after all, and came in 16th.)

I was really rooting for a modern-day miracle for the men’s hockey team this go ’round since there were no pros allowed to play…leaving a scrappy young team to represent. Off to a strong start, they lost to Slovakia in a shootout last night and were eliminated. No miracle, but hold your heads high fellas—you did us proud. Tonight at 11 is Women’s Hockey, US v Canada. Gonna be a hot one. I’ll probably be sound asleep in my twin bed in FL by then.

Aside from the sports I am way over all the pressure these athletes are under. It’s bad enough to be under a microscope as it is and then to have the image magnified further by some past transgression or catastrophe—it’s just too much. Mikaela Shiffrin’s dad and most ardent supported died suddenly. She’s allowed to be broken. Nathan Chen fell at the PyeongChang Olympics in 2018. Hardly a “disaster.” And then you have poor Lindsey Jacobellis trying to make up for the “catastrophic” decision to showboat in Turin (in 2006) costing her the gold, leaving her “only” with a silver. Old news. Let it go! The people covering the Olympics clearly didn’t get the “we need to promote better mental health” memo. (Speaking of people covering the Olympics, Craig Melvin looks like he would rather be anywhere but Beijing, and if I loathed Al Roker before, I’m not even sure what word describes how I feel about him suiting up in his Olympic swag and running all over the plaza. One thing I do like about the coverage is when they interview medal winners and ask them to pull down their masks to show their (ginormous) smiles. That’s cool.) Anyhow, these athletes aren’t ours. They don’t belong to us. And anyone who has any misguided sense of ownership of them also owes it to them to provide twice as much support to building them up as they do dragging them down by piling on a weight of (unnecessary and uncalled for) expectation.

I’m really not a fan of Eileen Gu/ Gu Ailing and her citizenship renunciation—she seems to enjoy some of the perks of the USA (like living here and, um, Stanford), but not *that* much, I guess…but whatevs. That said, if you think what she did is fine, that’s cool too, but do not engage in a conversation with my mom about it unless you are up for a battle of wits. “She says she wants to be a role model to girls…by supporting a country with a history of human rights violations…meanwhile she goes to Stanford and models for Tiffany…it’s just disgusting.” Connie is heated about this. I love how at 79.5 she’s still so plugged in to pop culture.

On Sunday I watched the Super Bowl, and enjoyed it. Didn’t really have a horse in the race and by the end of the game was rooting for my sister’s square to hold on for another win, which it did. So there was that. I’m happy for Matthew Stafford…living proof that there’s no “I” in “team.” Otherwise the Lions wouldn’t have sucked with him at QB. Also, thanks to Mary J for her preventive medicine/get screened ad. Screening saves lives. Do it!

Anyone catch the conch playing stay at home uncle on Jeopardy? “Interesting” chap. I miss Amy but I’m also glad it’s kinda back to normal, although with not having a consistent host it just doesn’t feel the same to me.

I also recently watched The Tender Bar. It was good, sweet…solid soundtrack. I remember liking the book better, but I could be wrong about that. An aging mind has a growing stable of not-quite-false-but-not-quite-accurate memories, and this could be one of them. Either way, I recommend both the book and movie. I think.

Listening to music

I’m pretty-much always listening to some something or another. Music makes such a difference, and it’s a key tool in my mental health management toolbox. But the other day at the gym I had a really bad experience with it. Sometimes the workout “soundtrack” is really loud, angry metal. And I’m kinda like, “Ok, dude’s having a day” or whatever (but, um, know your audience)…anyway on Monday it was so bad that when I got home my shoulders were up to my ears, I had barely burned any calories because I was so busy trying not to get worked up by being so disturbed by the volume and the lyrics that I could hardly work out, and I needed to flush my brain and conduct an auditory exorcism with the likes of Christopher Cross and The Carpenters with a little Yusuf Islam thrown in for good measure. It took a while to level me back off, so I was really glad to go back to the gym yesterday and have the workout accompanied by more peppy and innocuous club/pop tunes.

I’ve also been listening to (no idea why, exactly, though I keep trying to figure it out) Pat Benatar’s kickass cover of Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights. Those of us for whom Kate Bush supplied a few tracks to some angst-inspired mixed tape in the 80s might think, “Sacrilege!” “Never!” But it’s a great cover. A while ago I caught this interview and I had no idea how much there is to her…she’s really interesting. And I realize what I’m about to say is potentially blasphemous, but I might like Pat’s version even better than Kate’s. (Gasp.) You can decide for yourselves:

The original:

Pat:

What say you? (Throw it in the comments.)

Speaking of Kate Bush covers, this one by Meg Myers is fantastic:

She sings it with such urgency, and I love that, though I’m not sure my upside-down and inside-out 18-year-old self could have handled so much emotion at the time. But again, you decide which one you like best:

Both songs are amazing, all four versions are works of art, and each listen transports me.

I feel bad for kids today…what do they do with their angst when they can’t make a mixed tape and then put it in their Walkman and skulk around campus?

Question: Have a favorite cover song? Pop it in the comments. And don’t be a joker and say Desperado by Kenny Rogers. That’s a complete tragedy.

Eating

Still as big of fan of that gnocchi/brussels sprouts dish as I was when we first tried it, though when you reheat the leftovers at home you’re no less of an inconsiderate coworker than if you did it in the office. (Sorry, Kerri!) That said, making scrambled eggs at home for lunch is fair payback, so we’re even. 🤣🤣🤣

We went out to dinner last night with friends to 16C in Quincy and it was so fun. Food and drinks were solid, but the big takeaway is this: make plans. Got people you want to see? Pick a date. Lock it in. Life is too short for a series of “we should get together sometime”s. Make a plan. Do it. See people you like. Have fun. Let’s have a drink.

Reading

So yeah, my reading sitch is still pretty abysmal, especially relative to the reading progress of others I see on social—the pressure. I’m still grounded by my dailies, I’m still learning from Netflix, and I finished Stanley Tucci’s memoir (it took me back to the golden days in Italy, a trip and a time I loved (2019), but I won’t be inviting that persnickety judgmental pain in the ass author/actor to dinner any time soon). Next up for me is The Lincoln Highway, and my Kindle is chock full of borrowed titles (10 from the local library and 10 from the BPL) for vacation, because who knows what I’ll feel like reading? (Obviously not I.)

Saturday it was 60° and sunny so I sat out back and read poolside.

When I took this pic it just so happened that “Let it Be” was playing. Sublime.

The next day?

For real…8” of snow…ahhh, New England.

And as I wrap up for this week, I gotta tell you this, I’m wondering something. Namely how the hell did Bob Saget hit his head so hard it shattered his skull (and killed him)?

Anyway, not sure where you’re at today, but if you need to breathe and chill, this one always does it for me:

As always, I’m grateful for you coming to share this space with me. So grateful. Have a great week. Love you too.