Happy Presi-Tines Day

I had this totally exhausting phone conversation the other day that lasted for hours and was way too emotional (I AM TOO LAZY TO BE THAT EMOTIONAL FOR MANY HOURS), and since it happened, I think that I just might be all out of words. So if you know me in real life, and you talk to me or ask me a question, and my only response is to say BLAH BLOO BLEE BLAH* to you, just nod and smile.

So let’s just see what sort of blog post I can manage to string together. Let’s just hope there are words involved, and that they make a modicum of sense.

Ooh, good sign. I used the word “modicum.”

But what to write about? I could tell you that I spent my President’s Day on a walk. The whole day, pretty much. I walked out of my front door and I just picked a direction and I walked for hours and hours. I walked so much that I could barely get myself home. And goddammit, I didn’t think about the Presidents once, not even for a moment.

I could tell you about how Nordic Boy and I have attempted to watch The Olympics but have discovered that watching The Olympics is like Sominex to us. Give us Bob Costas and a carefully edited sappy athlete bio, and we will be in dreamland faster than you can say giant slalom.

Or I could tell you that I know I forgot to do my weekly Consumables post last week, but that I watched My Brother’s Keeper, and Letters from Iwo Jima, and Food, Inc. Because, you know, that’s a cheerful trifecta.

Or I could tell you about how I spent Valentine’s Day. There were no presents or cards or chocolates or whatever it is you’re supposed to do on that day (well, except for the gigantic Hallmark number that was apparently dipped in a glitter bath that we got from my mom who is incapable of sending me cards without a glitter crust on them, god bless her). We spent much of the day in the hardware store (Nordic Boy’s true love) and the only Valentiney thing that happened was that I broke out into a hardware-store-inspired serenade on the way home wherein I sang Peter Cetera ballads with a plumbing or insulation theme (“You’re the meaning in my life! You’re my IN-SOOL-AY-SHON! You bring heating to my life! You’re my IN-SOOL-AY-SHON!”)

I could write about the dinner I had with BioGirl and my other friend H on Friday night, and how I interrupted our funny conversation about scary movies (which is scarier? Serial killer movies or paranormal movies?) by starting to talk about actual mortality and how that is actually the thing that scares me the most. I mean, aren’t we all just afraid of dying? Or our loved ones dying? Isn’t that what’s scary? I thought it was interesting. Turns out it was just creepy. And it made my friends look at me weird. And stopped the conversation dead for a second. Ha ha, get it? DEAD.

Or I could just say this:

Yeah, let’s go with that one.

*This phrase patented by Life of a Lovechild, for which I am eternally grateful.


  1. I have just realized there isn't enough use of the word "glitter," or of actual glitter, in everyday life. Will try to fix that.Also, serial killer movies. Fo' sho'.

  2. My most favorite part of this post was your hardware-store-inspired serenade. It made laugh out loud and if you knew what kind of week I'm having you would know how much I appreciate it. To give you an idea of how my week is going, I got into a pretty major confrontation with a co-worker yesterday about Eleanor Roosevelt and gun control. Separate topics. Both confrontational. And I had to work 1.5 hours late last night. Bloo blah blee blah.

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