Category Archives: Life and Other Existential Problems

Squeaky Curds, Surging Back, and the Twerpiest, Torque-iest of Months — July 2024! Month in Review

Inspiration, Life and Other Existential Problems, Poetry, Recommendations, Writing, , , , , ,

What comes to mind when you hear “JULY 2024!”?

This?

Or, if you’re from the USA, this?

Ok. But nope.

July 2024! was the temporal equivalent of the playground merry-go-round. Dizzying, uncomfortable, and with an unshakeable sense that some punk ran up, grabbed one of the bars, and whipped this fun/hell contraption into a breakneck speed. Some people flew off, some clung with all their might to the hot metal. Almost all of us wanted to puke.

Torque. It’s not for the faint of heart.

Neither was JULY 2024! if you’ve paid attention to anything at all. It’s been a fire hose of information, no matter where your radar dish is pointed. That’s the wonderful horror of being a writer. Like it or not, we pay attention. Perhaps we write because we pay attention, or perhaps we pay attention because we write. Either way, the writing-attention bond is embedded in the very grooves of our ink-smudged fingerprints.

Things seep in. It’s spectacular. It’s a lot. We write to figure out how we think and feel about these things. When we’ve been at it awhile, we learn what to pay attention to and how to hold the attention-prism up to the light.

But oof. JULY. Basta.

I spent almost half of July sick, as I do every year. Something low-grade, with unearned exhaustion and a sense of being perpetually stuck in finals week, leaving me just enough energy to get through the day but not enough to conjure up my own special brand of goddamned delightfulness.

The two weeks of corporeal slowdown triggered or at least coincided with something excellent — my brain seems to have returned from whatever hiatus it’s been on for the last couple years. Writing no longer feels like trying to breathe while encased in a giant Jell-O mold. Whatever Roto-Rootered my noodle, I’m grateful and am scraping out remaining sludge while putting this refreshing spray of thoughts into words.

But next time my brain takes a sabbatical, I’d like to hitch along for the ride.

In times like JULY 2024!, you twerpy month, all we can do is either hold on for dear life or tuck and roll off, then stare at the sky until the wooziness passes and we recalibrate.

Mostly I clung to small comforts in JULY 2024!, especially those in carb form. (Confession: I am also in carb form.)

And also screamed JULY like this:

Here are some splashes of marvelous from July 2024

  • Someone I love dearly sent FOUR PINTS of Jeni’s ice cream and also some dog ice cream (for the dog, not dog-flavored). They are now my favorite person. (All apologies to my husband, but he had a good run.)
  • I’ve hit that age where I understand the technology but am tired of keeping up with it like I’m the third dog in the sled team. My kids run my tech now. Despite their help, I still can’t get the Target app to work at the checkout line. My offspring are polite enough to keep from howling with laughter until I’m out of earshot, but that’s because they see how devastated I get catching a glimpse of myself in the checkout camera. Despite that, this Target commercial shows they (generally) understand their customers, even if they overestimate our enjoyment of the checkout camera.
  • Sometimes you dream of going to a certain place. A dream you’ve dreamed for, oh, your entire marriage. SOMETIMES DREAMS COME TRUE!. Ladies and gentlemen, the Mars Cheese Castle. Squeaky Curds! Whey (probably, and if not, there should be!) T-shirts! Kringle! Pickled mushrooms! Pants! Cheese hats that we refused on principle! Beer! What more could you want?
  • OMG when is the last time you heard this? Too long, I’d guess.
  • Talk about honesty and balance. 
  • This reaches far beyond writing. We only have each other: 
  • Perhaps July was just an illusion, but a necessary one as Oliver Sacks points out in this passage. 
  • I came across this as I sorted through papers in my office. It’s one of those pieces that, like the merry-go-round, is dizzying and thrilling. 
  • Writers (and some normal people, probably,) form nearly-unholy-yet-mutable bonds with writing instruments and notebooks. I use Sharpie S-gels and 5-Star notebooks for novel writing, glitter gel pens and fun notebooks for journaling, colored pencils for planning, and whatever pen is on hand to put stuff in my second brain. We’re one scratch-and-sniff sticker away from teleporting here:

Someone tell Mars Cheese Castle to get on an aisle like that.

  • Oh no, I just went down this rabbit hole. DO I WANT THESE?

What delights popped up in your July?

Public Libraries, Rhubarb, and Volatile Organic Compounds (P.U.) — June 2024 Month in Review

Creative non-fiction, Humor, Knitting, Life and Other Existential Problems, Month in Review, Parenting, Poetry, Reading, Recommendations, Things that smell, , , ,

Starting is arguably the hardest part of anything, especially writing, where the beginning has to hook and promise and reveal enough ankle. Sometimes the Muppets might even show up.

I was going to start this Month in Review talking about how the cicadas are mercifully almost gone. (Just in time, too, because one flew into my face and then I had to consider taking a flamethrowing to my own puss.) Then I was going to wax not-exactly-poetic about the stench of them rotting by the trillions. If you want more information, check this out. However, if you want to avoid yet another closeup photo of the critters, the big take-away is “As microbes break down and digest the cicada carcasses, ammonia and volatile organic compounds are released…Ammonia has a strong odor, as do some VOCs containing nitrogen and phosphorus — which the bodies of periodical cicadas are rich in.” 

There were a lot of places in that quote where I wanted to set fire to my face again.

The whole cicadapocalypse/decomposition was going to be some sort of averagely-expressed metaphor about June.

But it just made me want to open a window, and that’s tricky these days. 

Since I was clearly on an off-gassing thematic thread, I considered opening with commentary about politics and world affairs. Each try degenerated into either something like a subtweet or a pitch for some sort of Toxic Positivity MLM.

That ain’t me, kid.

Not that I don’t believe in ripping myself open and spilling all the blood/tea, but “think good thoughts” isn’t my brand. I’m not unrelievedly sweet nor optimistic. I’m hilarious and cynical and misanthropic and ALSO a little optimistic. That’s hard to capture. 

(Also, I still write “80085” on my calculator and think it’s hilarious high art.)

(Also, I have a calculator.)

(Also, are we still using “subtweeting”? I’d ask my kids but they are still mad at me for randomly throwing “skibidi toilet” into some otherwise Quality Parenting Moments.™)

But yesterday on my social media, I wrote “I wish you all the wonderful communities of weirdos you need. If you lack one (or enough), I will enthusiastically be a charter member of yours.”

So that is also how I choose to start this wrap-up of June and the second half of the year. I will be here in a completely official capacity as part of your Weirdo Community. We don’t take a lot of selfies and there is always pastry.

Ooh, look: Weirdo! Muppet!

Here are some splashes of marvelous from June 2024

(i.e. things I enjoyed that you may also enjoy or possibly not if you are feeling contrarian and cross.)

  • For much of June, a percentage of my children were in poorly-timed camps and fun classes that made me do the precious calculation of “is it worth going home or should I stick around?” (My calculator is not used for such things, see above.) The quiet gift of this was spending time in the local public library of the town where they had these classes, and boy howdy was it fantastic. I love public libraries and all they stand for. Like most other libraries I’ve visited, I had the best, friendliest, fiercest, most welcoming people greeting me and who were very happy to tell me that in the winter they light the fireplace and people just hang out and read there. More adults need to rediscover our libraries beyond having meetings there. It brought back warm memories of Harper Library and the many happy semesters there rather than, you know, doing homework or going to class. Some things age well, like libraries. Some things do not age well, like cicada corpses.
  • We have started introducing a certain percentage of my children to Mel Brooks. Avoiding the whole non-argument about whether we could make something like Blazing Saddles nowadays, Happy June Birthday Mel Brooks! And can I just have a moment of appreciation for the glory that is Madeline Kahn?
  • I cleaned out my knitting nook. Unlike any knitter ever, I buy more supplies than I’ll use in a lifetime. It’s a bulwark against death, profound optimism, and maybe some self-delusion. I don’t knit that fast. I have the same problem with books. Maybe I can make a deal with someone in that department to keep me going until all the books are read and the wonky hats knit.
Why, no, I’m not a professional photographer OR a professional organizer. Why do you ask?

So I might not find the right way to start these months in review, but ending in cake is always the way. As Vincent said in the above link, my mind is driven towards these things with an irresistible momentum.

So, tell me about your favorite library. Or your favorite cake. Or your favorite weirdo community.