Whew, it’s been a whirlwind kind of summer so far. I haven’t even been here on the old blog in several months and it shows. It’s looking a little shabby around here. Sorry about that, but thank you for your continued support even in my absence. I’ve received at least two comments telling me that they could optimize my platform or something like that and one more calling me an “asshole,” which I mean, I should take offense to, but it is slightly accurate as of late so Imma let it slide.
Well then, how the hell have you all been? Good I hope, all things considered. I have nothing enlightening to say today, only here to catch you up on some things: 1. My dogs are still crazy. 2. It’s hot as shit in Atlanta right now and 3. I’m officially finished with grad school, all school actually, and at the end of the month I graduate, earning my second masters degree, but honestly this is the good one.
Yep, it’s official. My 150-page thesis, a collection of short stories set in the Ozarks, is off to the Trappist Abbey Monks to be bound, my signature pages are signed, all assignments are completed and as far as the world is concerned I’m officially: Melissa Goodnight, MFA. Though because of my friend Andrew and his absurdly wonderful outlook on life, I will only sign my emails, Melissa Goodnight, MFnA because really that’s more inline with the truth of things.
There is actually a ton more going on in my life than finishing up grad school, but there’s a ton going on in everyone’s life right now so I’m gonna spread my shit like a Roomba that got hold of the puppy’s accident, that is to say I’ll gonna make a trail of shit over the next several weeks to keep you all updated.
And also, you are welcome for that visual.
Wow, I really did miss you all and I’m super glad to be back. Back to having free time to write on my blog, back to reading what I want to read, and back to being able to make up outrageous lies for how to get out of social obligations since I can’t blame it on thesis anymore…
So as usual, stay safe and sane, y’all! Let’s talk again soon.
Whew. It’s been a hectic season and I don’t just mean the holidays. When it gets too crazy I tend to shut down and shut down I have. I haven’t written anything new, not even on this here blog, for quite some time now and while I have a lot I want to say, a lot I want to fill you all in about, I really just wanted to jump on today to say that I am still here and so are you and isn’t that just dandy! Yes, I think it is.
The truth is that I don’t know what my life is going to look like six months from now. Like, actually, I have no idea what my life will look like in very big ways, like we might be moving from Atlanta, I might be having a major hip surgery, I might be put on a medication that requires infusion every six weeks, big things (not all good, not all bad) are afoot here and it feels a bit like things are spinning out of control, so I want to focus on the things I can control. Doesn’t that make the most sense? Yes, yes it does.
Let’s make a list of things we can control. If you are feeling like me, or have ever felt like me, or (most likely) will ever feel like me, lists sometimes help. Try it! Here is mine.
Things That I Can Do to Feel Like I am in Control or Things I Actually Can Control
Getting enough doggy pets in everyday
Logging what I eat
Making healthier choices with food/drink
Watching trash television that will help me feel better about myself, or at least take away my intrusive thoughts for 30 minutes at a time
Focusing on my family, getting quality time, cooking together, shopping together, playing more games
Ask questions, or at least tell the person, “I do not have questions now, but I will. How may I contact you about them?” (This is really important with my medical stuff right now because when I am inundated with new info it takes me awhile to process it before I have questions)
Doing something creative every day
Ask my doctor for some help sleeping (ie…get some prescription sleeping meds, y’all because this not sleeping just adds to the damn problem)
Get 10 hours of sleep! (Yes, I need 10 hours of sleep to function and you’re kidding yourself if you are one of those, “I just need four and I’m good.” No. Everyone needs at least 6-7 hours, most of us need more we just refuse to admit it. GET SOME SLEEP!)
Work to block intrusive thoughts (I’ve been thinking about scheduling “Intrusive Thought Time” into my day. I know that sounds nuts, but that way if an intrusive thought comes that I have no control over, I can try to take control by being like, “Nope. I will deal with that at my scheduled ITT.” I’ll let you know how that goes..)
Stretching, lots of stretching
Calling/texting friends more to check in
Planning a vacation to literally anywhere
Okay I am feeling better, y’all. Just knowing that I took the time to write a list that may be helpful, just knowing that I took the time to check in here, it all helps tremendously. I hope you take a moment today to do something you like.
Take a walk.
Watch the birds in your backyard.
Buy a new sweater online. (Brr, it’s like 40 degrees here!)
Call your mom (or someone you love like a mom)
Those are just some ideas, but the truth is we all have our own things, just find yours and do it, just for ten minutes. I think it will help.
This morning turned out to be one of this mornings where you are reminded that you are human, that other people are human, and that as a parent, you are doing the best you can, and so are your kids. Jackson was all packed and ready to go on his trip this weekend for the Technology Student Association, when I kissed him goodbye and told him to have a great day. Then Jerimiah was headed to the office for an in-person meeting, I swear he only has to go in when there is something chaotic afoot, and he asked me if I wanted coffee because he was going to stop by Starbucks because duh.
Side Note: Our favorite coffee here is a little, local shop called The Corner Cup but it’s on Main Street and they are filming a movie (The Out-Laws for Netflix) on Main Street so we’ve been avoiding it, but then I found out Pierce Brosnan was in it along with that guy from Pitch Perfect, you know the guy he was in The Righteous Gemstone too, and now I kinda wanna go check it out, but that’s neither here nor there.
Okay back on track, Missy!
Jerimiah takes Jackson to school and on the way Jackson orders our Starbucks so it’s ready for Jerimiah to pick up after he drops him off. So he does and as he is headed to grab said Starbucks Jackson texts and is all, “Where is my Covid form?” Sc, sc, screech! So because we live in the time of Covid, there was a parent form to fill out that basically said I know we live in the time of Covid and still I am allowing my child to be in the care of his school district on this trip and if my child were to get Covid, I would not place blame on the school system. Okay, Jerimiah signed the form last night and handed it to Jackson who also had to sign it and told him to stick it in his bag when he was done. Guess which step he didn’t do?
So Jerimiah calls me just as I’m texting him to bring me a yummy bakery item too because it’s Friday and I can handle it. He’s all,
“Is there a Covid form on the kitchen island?”
“You need this, yeah?”
“Yes. And the coffee is ready and I have a meeting at nine.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I dunno. The Audi needs gas and I won’t have time to stop at the gas station, Starbucks, and the school.”
“Can you scan this Covid form?”
“No, he said he needs it.”
“Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Go get the coffee.”
So I load up the dogs into the Beetle Bug because we can’t leave them unattended, you know on account of the Oreo Situation. Oh wait, I haven’t told y’all about the Oreo Situation. Shit. Don’t worry about it, Duke is fine. He didn’t even get his stomach pumped he vomited it all up on the way to the emergency vet. Kind of like me and that time I tried to do 18 shots of tequila for my 18th birthday. Moving on…
So as Jerimiah headed back to the house to get the form, Jackson texted again and was all,
“Ohhh, I left my watch at home.”
Normally this would be no big deal but “my watch” is an Apple Watch and the way he communicates with me when he “can’t” communicate with me, ya dig? Like when he’s in class, or in this case of this weekend, when he’s 330 miles away in a conference and I get the urge to check in on him, at least he can give me a thumbs up that he got the message from his watch and I know he’s alive. Listen, I’m not proud of my worry and anxiety, but we all make do okay?
So Jerimiah gets back to the house before I have even coaxed Winnie into the Beetle Bug. She hates the Beetle Bug and that makes sense, it’s a little car and she’s not a little dog, she’s more an Audi Q7 dog and she knows it and we know it, but what can you do? So I have the Covid form and I’m begging Winnie to get into the Beetle Bug when Jerimiah pulls in the carport and is all,
“Well he forget his watch too.”
“OMIGOD! THIS IS A CLEAR SIGN FROM THE UNIVERSE THAT HE IS TOO YOUNG TO BE TAKING OFF WITH SCHOOL TO GOD KNOWS WHERE TO DO GOD KNOWS WHAT!”
I may have overreacted. To be fair, I still did not have my coffee and at this point I did not know if I would ever have it again.
So I go inside to look for his watch while Jerimiah gets the dogs into the Audi, which was no problem because of their aforementioned bias against the Beetle Bug, and then he comes inside and knows right where the watch is and I want to scream, but instead he’s all,
“Why don’t you just come with me?”
At the school we see Jackson walking aimlessly around with his suitcase while his classmates are either: loading the bus or on the phone with their own parents trying to figure out how to get the damn Covid letter that they forgot. To be fair we just got the Covid letter yesterday, so that’s on the teachers. I’m texting him that we are behind the bus. And he’s all,
“Where are you?”
“WE ARE BEHIND THE BUS.”
He runs over all frantic and I give him the form and his watch and the dogs whine because at this point we had to roll all the windows up in the car because there was a Great Dane crossing the street and Duke lost his shit and the Great Dane’s mom gave me a glare like I need to control my dogs and BITCH WHO ARE YOU?!
Then Jackson is about to run off and I say wait, let me get a picture of you and he’s all,
“Oh my gosh, they are LOADING the BUS!”
And at the same time Jerimiah and I go,
“Oh, wow, wow, wow. Oh no. Attitude, bruh.”
Then Jackson is all,
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This was just all my fault and it’s a hectic day…”
And we are like,
“Dude, it was a mistake. It’s okay, things like this happen. We are not frustrated.”
Which was a lie cause I was legit frustrated but also I did not want him to get yelled at before he gets on a coach bus to head four hours away from me, you know. And Jerimiah and I were in agreement on this. Like there’s no point in ruining out kid’s trip, even just his fun bus ride with his friends, over something silly like this. And we said we loved him and we sent him on his way. Then we picked up our coffee and we calmed each other down and when we got home the dogs were NOT rewarded with a pup cup, and Jerimiah drove the Beetle Bug to work because still no gas in the Audi, and I had a realization:
I’m not sure how other people do it without a kind, loving partner. A real one. One who doesn’t react in anger, like ever. One who’s first reaction is always to listen and understand. A partner who is there through these hectic mornings. Who knows how to keep you calm so you don’t fly off the handle. Who is in 100% synced in your parenting. Who knows that our shit, our shit is nothing compared to keeping our kid physically and emotionally safe at all times, even when those times look like they did this morning.
So all that to just be an appreciation post about my partner? Yeah, kind of. And also as a reminder that if you partner is not 100% your partner, you deserve better. Much better.
Whew. I’m thinking I might go back to bed now. Let’s all get some rest today. Or at least try to with our kids so far away!
Oh also, Jackson texted to say that we could have just scanned the Covid form. So there’s that.
The other day on my sobriety post I promised to talk about how people like to pass judgement on my “dietary” choices all the time. Generally it’s because they see me, see I’m fat, and assume I am doing nothing about it and eat snacks all the time. Ho hum. This is true for a vast majority of people, others make assumptions about their eating habits because everyone thinks their choices are the best. Some people are like, “Yay for you for eating more veggies!” while others are like, “Oh my goodness, you still eat cheese, that’s disgraceful.” Okay, assholes, who asked you? Even though I no longer eat meat I still do it, I still pass judgement, not about people who eat meat, about other stupid things. Like when I see a kid’s lunchbox full of “snacks” I’m like, “Really?” Like how do you let your kid eat only snacks all day? See? I’m judgey, we all are. Maybe they can only afford that kind of food? Or maybe that kid will refuse other food and at home the parents will have that fight, but they’ll be damned if they will put that fight on the teachers at school? Or maybe they grew up poor like me and learned unhealthy habits that are super fucking hard to break and they are trying desperately to stop the cycle with their children, but they slip-up sometimes? Or maybe they don’t fucking care and their kids metabolism, their metabolism, is great and I should just mind my own fucking business? Sure, sure. It’s all possible. So I should mind my own fucking business.
Anyway, I don’t want to be accused of hating snacks! I love snacks! Always have (see above tangent). But when Jackson was small we *literally* (I put the asterisks there to make sure you know I actually mean *literally* as it is supposed to mean, not as figurative language) we *literally* did exactly what our pediatrician told us to do with him for fear that if we didn’t he would learn our horrendous eating habits. We did not feed him “real” food until he was a year old. We introduced baby food when she told us we should and we started with vegetables only. I bought organic peas and mashed them up and gave them to him. We only supplemented breast milk when we had to. When he turned a year old we *literally* (again) threw the bottle away on his birthday and switched him to sippy cups with only milk (2% because “not every baby needs whole” the pediatrician said) and water. No juice. No soda. No nothing. 2% milk and water.
When he started eating “real” food we NEVER made him “clean” his plate. Eww. That is what we had to do when we were kids, umm, weight problems because you don’t understand how to read the signals from your stomach? Youbetcha! We also never made meal times a big deal. We ate as a family at the table. That was our only grand gesture. And we did eat at the table, not in front of the television ( and our families legit thought we were weird for it, they judged us a lot.)
Whew. It was tough. Really tough. But it paid off. Jackson is totally a teenager who stops eating when he is full. He will walk away from a cheeseburger (his absolute favorite meal) after taking two bites if he picks up on that signal from his stomach. He will ask the server for a box and he will take it home to eat it later or the next day, whenever he’s legit hungry again. I am in awe of him each time he does this, I’m like, wow. I think I did that. I mean I can’t do it to save my life (I’m learning, Jerimiah and I have even been splitting meals when we eat out just to help when we can’t pick up on our signals) but just wow, you know.
What’s always been funny to me though, is that people see Jerimiah and me and then they look at Jackson (who has always, despite all the work we have done, been in the 90th percentile for weight, like since he was born, but he’s never been overweight) and they assume things about us. They assume we don’t make our kid eat healthy. They assume, when they see him with a soda or a bag of Cheetos that this is the way we live our life and it used to bother me something fierce (I guess it still does to some extent cause I’m telling y’all about it) but lately, probably because my own relationship with food is changing, I’m realizing I gotta care much less about that shit. Much less.
I think it’s just that I don’t know how to navigate this world without being a fat person and because of that, because of how the world treats fat people, I have all this shame around what I eat and what my kid eats and how I move around in this body. I look at “normal” sized people and think, wow, they must have this eating thing all figured out, but no, they don’t. They just have better genes, or grew up eating veggies first, they aren’t coming into middle age with this weird deficit that Jerimiah and I are. We have to start considering everything we eat, all we do to keep ourselves healthy because of where we are coming from, meanwhile some people just don’t. They don’t have to constantly talk about it or think about it, and when we do it makes them uncomfortable. That must suck for them, but not as much as it sucks for us.
I know a person who 100% drinks hard liquor most nights of the week, but who has 100% told me that I don’t eat enough fruit. Did I want to slap the shit out of that person, sure? Did I? No, it was a family reunion and that felt like it would cause too much drama, you know? But that was old Missy, I’d like to have that convo again…
The point is I have changed. We do that as we grow. Well some of us do. And when we grow we make changes based on new information. This year I learned who my real father was through a DNA test. I also learned that he died when I was 9 months old from a massive heart attack. That’s some new info that will fuck you up. It sure did me. I learned too that he drank beer every day of his life and that he often threw them back with a cheeseburger. Eek face.
But I can’t just flip a switch overnight. I can’t unlearn 40 years of nonsense, so it takes time, and I have to give myself the time to get there. There are no quick fixes with this. Sure I could get weight-loss surgery or take some kind of pill, but we all know that won’t touch the root of my problems. So here I am. Blogging about this all to you, eating veggies, listening to people tell me how they think I should eat and live to be healthy, and trying to smile through it all, but I think we all know I won’t be able to sustain that either.
So consider this my warning. I don’t want your opinions on the way I eat or what I feed my family and you won’t get mine. In fact, just assume I don’t want your opinion about anything. If I do, I’ll ask. Otherwise, walk on by me while I’m eating my snacks or my veggies. It will be safest for all those involved.
I’m not sure why I can sit down every day now and hammer out a blog post, but I am incapable, quite suddenly, of writing for my thesis. Like in the first month of school I wrote two, TWO short stories. I guess I took that for granted because now here I am, sitting alone in my quiet house (Jackson is back at school in person and Jerimiah is at the office for his yearly budget reviews) and I still cannot write anything new for thesis. Meanwhile, I am here on my blog complaining to y’all. I guess it’s just the nature of the beast, yes? I don’t have to think much here. Y’all offer me a “no-thinking zone.” That’s not a bad thing, it’s not, it’s a really good thing. I can just log on here and share something ridiculous, whatever I am thinking about that day, and usually someone will find goodness in it, even if it’s just me blabbing my mouth about conservative republicans. Thanks, y’all. I appreciate you.
Maybe that’s all I have in me to say today. Thank you for being you, for reading or at least skimming, and for nodding your head in agreement or maybe shaking at my absurdity. Either way, it’s important for me to know that someone, out there in the ether, is having the kind of day where they need to just sit and read the random thoughts of someone else. It’s always good to think about how humanity works in that way.
Maybe my next post will be more concrete with themes and pictures and funny one-liners, maybe it will be more bitching about Mitch McConnell, who’s to say, but I’m glad someone out there will be into it.
Take care of yourselves today, won’t you? Lighten up. I’ll try to take my own advice.
It would be now. For sure. Hundy percent. Do it. SCREAM! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Do you feel better? No? Then you didn’t scream! Try again, it’s okay I’ll wait. I have the time.
Do you feel better now? NO? Okay, what do I need to do to help you scream? Would a picture of Burt Reynolds help?
Did you know that Dolly told Burt that they could never be a couple because he was just as pretty as she was on account of his high heels (he was very short and had to wear boosters in his boots) and his wigs (he wore wigs)? Well now you know more about Burt than you did before. Is that scream-worthy? Yes! Yes it is!
Hey y’all. Whew, this sentence is proving hard for me to write. Write. Write. Write. I have not been writing for about two months now and this might be the longest time I have done this in years. I’m stuck. I don’t want to call it writer’s block because I think that’s a weird, made-up term. I think it’s stress. Stress makes me not want to do anything. Stress and anxiety clog up the whole system for me. The things I need to be doing like writing and working out suddenly stop and instead I sit in my pajamas all day and watch Teen Mom OG. Don’t get me wrong Teen Mom OG is great and really helpful in showing you that your problems are in fact not so bad, but it also prevents me from dealing with all the things I need to be dealing with. This creates a cycle. A cycle of not writing, not working out, not taking care of my mental health, then hiding from people. I really wanted to break that cycle last week so I packed up my car and kid and drove home for a few days which means I’m writing this blog post, my first one in a couple of months, from my best friend’s couch in Lansing, Kansas. But still I am not feeling whole. Rested. Rejuvenated. In fact, I feel like I am paddling hard against a current that is inevitably going to take me under. Wow, what a sad sack I am tonight, y’all. Then again, I never really promised y’all a rose garden anyway so no offense, but you need to quit your bitching.
Hmm, scolding y’all makes me feel a little better. Thanks.
I’m not even sure what I want to say here other than sometimes the things we love to do, the people we love to be with, the places we love to visit, the moments we look forward to give us experiences that we can hold deep in our hearts for sad days when we can pull them out, dust them off, hold them up to shine for us, even those days, experiences, people, and places are harder to see when we are actually living them. That feels weird, I know, but it’s the truth. Sometimes our own heads get our hearts all twisted up. The day to day of living breaks us away from our gratitude, from our love, from our search for the sparkle, from ourselves and we wind up blogging incoherent sentences at midnight on a Sunday in the middle of the midwest.
Which is to say, let’s try to stop. Stop spinning ourselves up. Stop stealing our own joy. Stop overthinking everything. Stop and relax and thank each other and ourselves for where we are right now. Or at least go and eat some peanut M&Ms in your closet while the world keeps spinning all around you.
This is not a post about guacamole. It is also not a post about rhyming words or avocados that have made their way through seminary. This is in fact a post about nothing in particular. Like a Seinfeld episode or when I sigh heavily and Jerimiah looks over to see what is wrong and there isn’t anything wrong but I did feel the need to sigh heavily and I can’t explain it but after I sigh heavily I feel better. That is what this post is about. Nothing. But also things. Feeling better maybe. Or not feeling so bad.
I’ve been watching The Golden Girls a lot lately. I’ve also been working on working on myself. Like I haven’t actually been working on, say, my confidence or stress, but I have been making lists about how I could work on my confidence or stress if I ever wanted to. That seems just as actionable. I know it isn’t, but come on, you’re not my therapist. Patsy is.
I mentioned The Golden Girls because that show helps me take my mind off stresses that seem to find me wherever I am. Like when I am getting all upset because a family member is being a real bitch, or when a random stranger on the internet has told me that I need to smile more, or when the Supreme Court is hearing a case about abortion, I just turn on The Golden Girls and pretend like it is 1987 Miami and I am a 60-year-old woman with a tight perm and disposable income. It helps for a bit.
This post isn’t about The Golden Girls though, or I would have named it, “Picture This…” It’s not about a stranger on the internet or a bitchy family member even though, lord knows I have a few of them around right now. This is about all the other things. The fact that I am turning 40 in a few months and still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. The fact that my son is steadily heading into 7th grade and growing and I can’t stop any of it. The fact that people I know and love have lost their mind. Just lost it, y’all. Like, it’s gone, somewhere between “The vaccine has microchips in it” and “I just like to drink my problems away.”
This post is about my problems, others’ problems, shit on my mind and in my heart.
We found out this week that Jackson will be eligible for the vaccine soon! In fact the CDC is meeting today to approve (fingers crossed) the emergency use of the vaccine for 12-15-year-olds and we are eagerly awaiting the news. Until then we have been discussing how this might help get us closer to herd immunity, which seems like something that we will never reach as a country. That is sad and a bit scary, but at least we know that our closest friends and family trust science and the process and they will be safe and protected. As for the others, well we will be sending them good juju each year and shaking our heads in dismay behind their backs.
Anyway, Jackson said the other day that if we would just, as a country, start calling it “The Trump Vaccine” and promise to Fox News watchers that it was just bleach being injected into them, they might do it! We all laughed and laughed at this, then we got quiet because well, it’s the truth and that makes us sad. Then I said, “Throw in a coupon for a free Filet-O-Fish and it would be a winner!” More laughter. Because you know, laughter eases the stress. Which is why we have come up with more ways to reach herd immunity, for laughter purposes only, please do not try at home.
Ways to Reach Herd Immunity Quickly
Give away leftover MAGA hats
Two for one shots (Viagra and COVID) in men’s bathroom at the airport
Let the My Pillow guy do the branding
Slip the vaccine into “Long Island Iced Teas” at all Florida bars
The words: “Trump, All Lives Matter, Vaccines” in one flag that fits perfectly in the back of a Ford pick-up
Offer it up in low, easy-to-make, monthly payments via HSN
The SlapChop Guy becomes The SlapShot Guy
Sell it at cost to mini-capitalists interested in becoming the next #PharmaBro
Give away free suitcases of Busch Light with every injection
New banner at CVS: “Every vaccine fights funds the police!”
Give to all women who have been hit on by a married man
A military parade if we reach herd immunity by the 4th of July
Promise microchips in the shot that links to your bank account to send $12/month to the Trump 2024 campaign
Buy three AK-47s engraved with “Fuck Masxs, I Got Vaxed!” and get one free with proof of your shot
Let Texas secede as long as they get vaccinated
“Jesus was Vaccinated!” Stickers
Hold “Fight ANTIFA” rallies, require them to get vaccinated at the door
Give sex workers authorization to administer the vaccine
The neighbor Dale and her husband Old WhatsHisName had a Ditch Witch up and running at nine in the morning. On a Saturday. Listen, I like Dale and Old WhatsHisName, but mostly I just like their dog Cookie. She’s a chocolate lab and she’s beautiful and friendly and she likes to play tug in her front yard with her favorite rope toy and she reminds me of my dearly beloved, Bentley, whom we had to put down two years and some change ago on account of her arthritis and her slow doggy dementia. She was nearly 14 years old and sometimes she forgot who I was, but mostly she sat at my feet and watched squirrels out the window and listened as I read her bits of essays and stories and she always, always let me cry into her neck fat. Dale and Old WhatsHisName are sort of afterthoughts. I like their dog so I tolerate them. I listen to Dale tell me stories about how she used to live in Charlotte too and really she didn’t like it as much as I did being a make-up exec is hard work and do I ever use eyeliner, because I have beautiful blue eyes, but…
The Ditch Witch at nine am was a bridge too far. Especially because I didn’t sleep well last night on account of it being week eight of my semester and why does everyone suddenly need me to do something for them and yeah I’m aware that I need to make some important decisions about residency and candidacy and my thesis in the upcoming weeks and when is the last time I cooked dinner for my family and hey they are opening school back up and Jackson is too afraid to go and I agree especially because a custodian in the district just died from Covid, but I mean half of the teachers are vaccinated and MAP test scores don’t really matter much this week and maybe we should just keep compounding this mom guilt on top of wife guilt on top of whatever it was that made me give that cash to that woman today in the Sam’s Club parking lot.
So the Ditch Witch sprang to life at nine am and I rolled over to my husband all, what the actual hell is that and he said how should I know it sounds like some type of heavy machinery and I knew right then that Dale and Old WhatsHisName were doing some yard work because about a month ago I was violently awakened from the loud diesel noises of a wood chipper from Sunbelt Rentals.
I wish I had a point. And I was drinking a glass of wine on a beach somewhere all alone. I feel all alone all the time, but it’s not possible because I am with my family all the time and I love them dearly and also I need a fucking break and a vacation and someone to tell me that it will all be okay. I know that it’s usually me reminding you all that it will all be okay, and really I know that it will, but sometimes when you haven’t been sleeping and your medicine is making you sick but you have to keep taking it or you’ll really get sick and you have no means of escaping this life that is really actually quite beautiful and you are thankful for it so much but that sometimes sucks like it does for all of us right now in varying degrees you just have to get on your old blog and yell about Ditch Witches and neighbors who really aren’t that bad and things that are absolutely outside of your control and some in your control but you that you don’t have answers for and you have to say your dead dog’s or your dead kid’s or your dead dad’s name because it matters at that moment.
That’s all I’m saying.
Damn it, y’all. It will get better and I love you and you have pretty eyes and you don’t need eyeliner but if you want to use it then use it because you are responsible for your own happiness and one day when we can hug each other again I’m gonna hug you so tight you might have a hard time breathing but you won’t mind cause you’ll get it. I hope you get it.
Welcome class, I do believe I have lectured on the wonders of Sam’s Club toilet paper previously, but I’m glad you’ve come back for another discussion today. First, let me say that if I could give Sam’s Club toilet paper to all of you I would. Like if I won the lottery, which would be hard to do considering I don’t play the lotto, but if I did the first thing I would do is give the world Sam’s Club toilet paper. Then, I would buy 20 acres, a pack of llamas, and donate the rest to charity. Now, before I get into the wonders of Sam’s Club toilet paper (from here on out referred to as: SCTP) let’s take a moment to acknowledge the fact that we all know Wal-mart is a horrific company that underpays their employees, cuts corners, forces manufacturers into cut-throat deals in the name of low prices, and takes out small businesses whenever they come to town. But the truth of the matter is there is nothing I can do about that, ergo every year I pay to have a Sam’s Club membership (actually we started piggybacking on my MIL’s membership this year because why not? Fuck Wal-mart!) just so I can enjoy the SCTP that I have come to know and love. That is to say I am stuck now. Addicted. I can get TP from no where else.
Let’s talk about that other TP. Most of the other TP is what Jerimiah refers to as “John Wayne TP” because it’s “rough and tough and don’t take no shit off anybody.” Ain’t that the truth. Here I’m talking about your run-of-the-mill store brand TPs, your Walgreens brand, your Up and Up from Target (I’m sorely disappointed in your Target), your Kroger brand, and what not. Now Member’s Mark is a store brand. That’s the brand that SCTP is. It is Member’s Mark, but it is quite obvious that Sam’s Club is not the manufacturer. I had a teacher in elementary school whose husband worked for Always Save, which is an off-brand food brand that they sell in those bright yellow boxes. You know the kind I mean, if you were ever at my house in the 90s you saw them in the pantry
Anyway, she told us once that Always Save gets their food and products from the name brand places, but because they don’t have to pay for branding and advertising and all that they can give deep discounts. It’s the same elbow macaroni, for instance, that the name brands sell, it’s just in a different package. She said they would literally get shipments of bags of pasta sauce, green beans, etc from the same places that Del Monte, for instance, is getting them, but instead they just go into the yellow label brands. Now this was back in the 90s, things may have changed since then, and there are definitely differences in the taste of some products (that why I can’t shop at Aldi, I can taste the differences) but this got me thinking about TP. And how there can’t be THAT many TP brands out there, instead Member’s Mark probably pays a brand to make their own label. So you know me, I Googled it.
But… all I could find was information that suggested Member’s Mark TP was made by Sam’s Club in the USA. So maybe it is in fact it’s own brand. I mean I am okay with that, I was just hoping for some secret. I did however, come across the Consumer Report article that exploits the scamming of the toilet paper industry and how they have been shrinking their rolls and upping their prices for years (Hint: They are particularly mad at the brand known as “Angel Soft” for it’s dishonesty and trickery, especially because it is sold mainly at places like Walmart and Dollar General, which means it serves low-economic communities and they are taking advantage of those people.) Nevertheless, here are some other brands to be weary of:
Now Kirkland brand is the Costco equivalent to SCTP and although I’ve never tried it, I’d be willing to. But I can’t bring myself to get a Costco membership for a myriad of reasons.
Now I know what you are thinking: Well this is just like, your opinion man. I get it. But there is actually a whole thread on Reddit about how SCTP is the best, and if you are so inclined to do your own TP test, you can can buy SCTP at Walmart.com. Just click on the image below. It says “out of stock” now, which they have had trouble keeping it in stock during the pandemic, but it will be back shortly I just know it! If you want to read up on other toilet papers and compare them this is a fun little article, and not just because they editor’s pick for best TP was Member’s Mark. That is just a coincidence.
But what makes Member’s Mark so good, Missy? Great question! It is soft like Quilted Northern, strong like Charmin, and a fraction of the price of the other two. In fact, aside from the problem of lint coming off (which is a problem they know about and are working on, but all the softest brands have that problem) it is the best toilet paper I have every had in my life, and yes I have tried many other brands, plus it comes in a minimum, MINIMUM of 45 rolls at a time, which is fantastic (if you have the room to store that much tp) because you don’t have to buy TP all the damn time! Bonus! And did I mention the price. On average, you can buy this 45-roll pack for about $20! TWENTY MFING DOLLARS!
So there you have it, a whole blog post about Sam’s Club Toilet Paper. I told you that’s what it was about.
Is it just me, or do you have a hard time reading the natural end to the conversation with your therapist via Zoom? I adore my therapist, but these Zoom calls have been increasingly difficult. Same with my rheumatologist, who has a heavy middle-eastern accent. It’s hard to hear her and hard to decipher her words through her mask in person, but via Zoom is even worse. I feel really bad because I already have a hard time with accents and naturally ending conversations, but it’s been even worse over the last year because I feel like I am always on edge, always forgetting things, always have a ton on my mind, and it’s getting worse not better.
Last week I called the meeting quits a good ten minutes before my session was supposed to end because I was like, well is she done writing? Is she checking her clock? Does she have notes to do before her next patient? It feels like there are just way more things to worry about via the Zoom calls and I don’t feel like I can read the room, mainly because there is literally no room to read.
To make matters worse we are so “close” in a Zoom call, like closer than we would be in real life, that it makes me uncomfortable. Have you noticed this? Like I can see the fine lines and wrinkles in people’s faces on Zoom. I can see if something is hanging from their noses. So I sit way, way back away from the computer because it scares me. Meanwhile some people sit with the computer so close all you can see is their face. Back up, y’all! Back up! It’s too close.
I don’t know what my issue is, not really. I just know that Zoom freaks me out. It always has. Zoom, FaceTime, Google Hangouts, whatever you use or want to call it. It’s not my favorite, most effective form of communication and I hate that this is how we have to do things now. At the same time, I can be in my pajamas for therapy, so… I guess it’s still a win.
Sometimes when I’m in the bathroom taking a shower, or peeing, or crying while I eat chocolate and slide down the wall dramatically, I think I hear Jackson on the other side of the door. I think I hear his little preschool voice, the one I miss oh so very much, saying, “Mommy? Mommy?” Now way back when the soft “Mommy” would be followed by an adorable, “Are you in thwere, Mommy? Are you pwooping, Mommy?” Because sometimes I would pretend to poop to get some alone time.
Anywho, lately that has been happening to me. I think I am hearing Jackson on the other side of the bathroom door asking for me when I am in the shower and I turn the water off and say, “What’s up, baby?” And no one is there. No one is ever there. And I am feeling sad about that. I think I am spiraling. I think I am wishing my little boy was running to find me when he realizes he hasn’t seen me in a few minutes and wants to make sure I am okay, or just needs to tell me that he made a new Lego house. I miss those days, even though I thought I would never get through them.
Is that what happens as your kid grows up? Am I just experiencing the age-old “I miss when they were little”? Is this when I start telling people to enjoy those little moments because the world moves so fast and the kids grow so fast and if you close your eyes, or even wish for a second for it to be over, when you open your eyes again it will be and then what? Then what?
Listen, I love the life we have now. A kid who can make his own lunch. Who can do the dishes and bring me a glass of wine when I am in the hot tub soaking my problems away. But somedays I desperately, desperately miss my little guy running to find me, a diaper sagging to his knees, or a trail of some sticky candy behind him, or a car in his hand asking me if I am ready to play. It’s all so much.
The days are long, but the years are fast. Really, really fast.
I ordered a red gravy boat to add to my Fiesta Christmas collection this year. Everywhere they sell Fietsta was running low on them, but I ended up finding one at Kohl’s when I had a whole debacle trying to find one at Macy’s. I’ll save you that story. So when the box arrived with my new trivet and my new scarlet-colored Fiesta Sauceboat I was jacked! Until I opened the box. As soon as I touched the box I knew something was wrong. I heard pieces. Broken pieces moving around. I hoped that it was the trivet, but of course because it is 2020, it was my beloved sauceboat.
Kohl’s made it right by shipping me a new trivet, but they couldn’t ship me a new sauceboat because they are out of stock. So I sat there in madness for a second, wondering who the hell packed the box, considering it was a nightmare packing job. Then I shrugged, said hey, this is 2020 and in 2020 we have learned to accept things we can’t control and move on. So I Googled the ancient Japanese art of Kintsugi.
Kintsugi is the mending of broken pottery by using gold. It creates a new piece that doesn’t shy away from its blemishes, but rather accepts them and makes the pottery beautiful again, just in a new way. I knew I had to do this to my 2020 gravy boat, but of course I can’t really afford to melt gold down, nor do I have access to do that or even know how. So I did the next best thing: I watched a YouTube video on how to practice “modern Kintsugi” with epoxy resin and some mica powder, ordered it from Amazon and got it done.
Listen, it was easy. But also tough. Much like this year. The epoxy resin is a mess to work with, I had gold mica powder all over my hands and table and places I was like, how did that even get there? But in the end I prevailed, in my own way of course, and now I have this broken, beautiful gravy boat. And while Jerimiah and Jackson looked at me a little crazy at first, eventually they got it.
2020, y’all. What a hot mess. But, hasn’t it shone some light on some things in our lives? I mean don’t we all have some cracks in our lives that could stand to be made beautiful? Don’t we all feel broken sometimes and wish we could be whole? Isn’t this year a shitshow, but also didn’t it sort of enlighten us to a lot of things? I think so. Which is why my family’s 2020 gravy boat* will now live eternally the way it came to us, broken but beautiful, and hopefully in years to come it will serve as reminder of how fucked up, funny, absurd, horrific, broken, and enlightening this year was. Maybe.
Enjoy some pics of the process and don’t laugh too much at my broken gravy boat.
*This way of doing it, the modern, easy way, makes the gravy boat unusable as the epoxy resin is toxic, but it looks nice on the hutch.