THINGS THAT ARE MAKING ME STUPID-HAPPY ON A THURSDAY AFTERNOON IN HOOSIERVILLE

64oz insulated container that keeps ice water cold all day. (I drink about four of these daily!)

A re-chargeable tabletop fan for when I get overheated or just need to feel air on my face.

(Peeking from the back of the fan) Sage and Citrus Yankee Candle that I light when stitching.

My latest stitchy project in its little bag with everything I need at my fingertips.

A riveting Classic that has me looking forward to my reading time.

(Not pictured) A pasta salad that will be fantastic this weekend with grilled chicken.

AND THEN LOUIE SAID...HERE...HOLD MY BEER

WARNING: This post contains bodily functions. If you're triggered by them, please move on. But come back, because:

NOTICE: This is the last and final post about bodily functions on this here blog. Quite frankly...I'm as tired of writing about them as you are of reading about them. Our programming will soon return to stitching, bitching, and vague references to how completely unbelievably lovely Spinster life here in Hoosierville normally is.

When my puppy-tot nephew Bosco was a baby, I used to go over to my sister's house a few times a day to check on him and to take him outside for potty breaks. I don't think we ever went outside once, because invariably, I would arrive to find that he had decorated the entirety of his little nylon apartment/cage, his blankets, toys, and himself with enormous amounts of ... Bosco puppy poo.

I would gasp and start to get exasperated, but then I would see his little face peeking out and his little tail wagging (flinging the poo even further onto the sides of his apartment), and I'd grab the rubber gloves and Scrubbing Bubbles from under the sink, get a roll of paper towels out of the utility room, and go to work. By the time I was finished, everything was freshly scrubbed, Bosco was clean and in his little robe, and another trash bag was headed out to the bin. 

(Fortunately, for me, Bosco was a very fast learner, and this little adventure was fairly short-lived.)

(Stewey, of course, never ever once had any pooing issues. He was, oddly enough, terrified of anything that came from that region of his tiny little self, so he made his deposits outside and then promptly ran away from them as though they were a fireworks factory with a manager who liked to chain-smoke in the parking lot.)

Guess who decided to surprise me in the middle of the night Monday by taking off his bag and going freakin nuts in the big girl sleigh bed, on the sheets, the blankets, my pajamas, and himself?

I just can't with the gory details anymore, but suffice it to say, all day yesterday was a marathon of bawling, cursing, washing, scrubbing, disinfecting, fretting, showering, and medical supply ordering until I finally collapsed into the chair and realized that not one peep was heard from the little @#$&* all damn day. I went to bed terrified that he had a blockage and that I was going to have to head to the ER and possibly yet another visit with our beloved Dr Thompson. Needless to say...it was a long night. 

(But the entire bedroom practically sparkled right there in the moonlight because it (and your hapless heroine) had been sanitized to within an inch of our lives)

(Betty, before you come for me about how disgusting I am and how only animals sleep on be-spoiled mattresses, I'd like to point out that thanks to not one, not two, but THREE mattress toppers...the offending substances didn't come anywhere near anything other than me and the sheets and the blanket....two of which were immediately disposed of.)

(I blame myself entirely for this little goat rodeo, by the way. Every single video I watched and every single person I talked to said "get yourself a big box of waterproof pads to put under your sheets", but I said "Oh no...that will never happen to me", and I got exactly what I deserved.)

(Nurses call the "chucks" by the way, but I can't for the life of me figure out why.)

Today, Louie seems to be over his little hangover, and my step tracker thingie has congratulated me twice for "all of the steps and the little bit of jogging" I've gotten in trotting back and forth to the powder room. For the love of all that is holy, I swear I must be in some kind of science experiment, and what I think is CS2 is actually a controlled laboratory of a mad scientist who wants to see what else will take a portly yet lovable broken down well-meaning spinster to the brink of madness. 

Appointments will be taken both this week and next with all of the appropriate team members. I think I already know the cause of the mishap (too much stoma powder and the use of baby-type wipes), so we're back to doing what my ostomy nurse taught me instead of tips and tricks from Dr Google. 

So far, so good.

(I have not, however, ruled out the possibility that it was Stoma Night at the St Joe County Fair, and Louie found himself careening between the beer garden and the fried food stalls while simultaneously trying to win himself a little sombrero at the Shoot 'Em Up game.)

My mental health is happy and optimistic, but a bit frazzled. Rich comes home a week from today, and I want/need to get myself together so that we might attempt to have a more "normal" and peaceful homestead, instead of the raging dumpster fire where his recliner lives.

Progress continues on Coffee, and I am almost finished with East of Eden. God willing, I'll have a few days of quiet to enjoy both. 

What's terrorizing you at the moment? Come tell me all about it!

IN WHICH OUR HEROINE SHUTS UP, HAS A CUP OF DAMN GOOD, AND GETS ON WITH IT

 

TOO MUCH PONDERING FOR A THURSDAY...

 

My goodness...I need a cold brew! Dearies, this whole being a normal adult human being thing is for the birds, if you ask me. I seem to have fallen into another deep well, and my days and nights are all topsy turvy again with insomnia, overwhelming profound fatigue, and absolutely no strength.

Oey.

Louie is misbehaving, and I've about had it with the Polly Sunshine voice in my head that says..."Oh, Louie. You're so funny and unpredictable, and if I give you a silly little name and pretend like I'm some kind of stupid warrior, all will be well and we can write about it on our blog and everybody will praise me for being so clever and strong", but the truth is that this is just awful and most of the time I'd rather just go curl up into the fetal position and try to teleport myself into a completely different body that actually works and hasn't been giving me agita since the age of TWENTY GD FIVE. (*)

I mean...really, Big Guy? Thyroid cancer, Crohn's, diverticulitis, kidney disease, dialysis, kidney transplant, an emergency colectomy, and now a non-reversible colostomy. And that's not even mentioning the "head" stuff that an entire team of Dr Melfies couldn't figure out!

(As usual...I exaggerate for effect.)

(But I am going to go find the Book of Job and read it, because my Aunt JoAnn used to call me out of the blue and say "Coni Jo, if you ever feel like you're going to slide into any kind of self-pity, I want you to read the Book of Job and apologize to God for not being grateful for your blessings.)

(But this is also the woman who told my mother not to cry and to "stop that vomiting" as she was giving birth to me in the throes of a horrible delivery.)

(Which just confirms the fact that I have been a completely over-dramatic pain in the ass from the get go.)

Enough of that...

I am having an actual physical stamina and energy problem, along with a crushing amount of food anxiety. It took me the better part of fifty years to finally find a way of eating that is good for me, and along comes death lettuce, and death blueberries, and death beef, and death eggs, and...

For pity's sakes, kids. Can we please stop trying to kill the Spinster and just find a way to make her days just that much easier? I would, however, like to send a big fat THANK YOU to Canada, since my team tells me that anything grown in the greenhouses there is perfectly safe, and that I might also look at roasting vegetables rather than risking salads for a minute.

(Tonight's selection will include roasted sweet potatoes, shallots, carrots, green beans, and garlic with a burnt beyond recognition chicken breast...all peeled, diced, and chewed appropriately for YOU KNOW WHO.)

So forgive me, please, for a complete lack of discipline when it comes to writing to you on this here blog. The guilt, shame, and humiliation one feels for coming off like an ungrateful, spoiled, hateful little toad has my creativity in a cage for the moment, but the caffeine addled raccoon that is my interior monologue, is trying its dambdest to get the key.

I am stitching and reading (East of Eden) and watching all the things (just started a second run through of The Morning Show), but day to day here at CS2 is incredibly quiet for now. Fortunately, my Jersey Boy is still with his mom, so he only gets the brunt of it via telephone and texts sent in all caps. He'll be home eventually, I promise.

Cheers to one and all. I hope your Summer holiday is winding down in good fashion, and that you've done all of the things. Come tell me all about it...I'm here!

(*) James Joyce has nothing on MY stream of consciousness, I tell ya! I did finish Ulysses, by the way, and absolutely loved it! It was very much like the biggest rollercoaster at Cedar Point when I was a kid...I gritted my teeth through the whole thing and was pretty sure it was going to be the death of me, but as soon as I regained consciousness I couldn't wait to do it again!

 

STITCHING...WELL KINDA SORTA

While my stitchy mojo vacations somewhere wonderful (I hope), I am pulling things from the WiP basket and poking them with needle and thread. Here's the latest FeeNee:

I'm sorry that I cannot tell you anything about the fabric or thread choices, but I'm guessing that it's a 28ct somethingorother from Picture This Plus, and the threads appear to be silk. NPI or Gumnuts? I have absolutely no clue.

Note to Newbies...document/journal your stitching! I wish I would have done a better job of keeping track of details, so that I could have an actual record rather than relying on this here blog for information.

WELCOME TO SPINSTER ACRES...AN ASSISTED LIVING COMMUNITY

 My poor body is basically a condominium at this point.

In the left studio, lives an older gentleman named Mr Belly Bean. He is the original tenant of the complex, and has lived here in quiet dignity since September 30, 2021. He's lovely, and does not require much by way of upkeep, other than an inordinate amount of iced water and a scrupulous attention to the timing of his medication. Every day at 9am and 9pm, Mr Bean demands several different pills and tablets to be administered precisely to keep him feeling his best. He gets monthly labwork, watches his diet carefully, isn't too fussy when it comes to restrictions other than absolutely no colas, pomegranate, grapefruit, starfruit, and not too much salt, if you please, and generally minds his own business and does an excellent job of keeping his home clean and well-regulated. He visits with his medical team periodically, but always gets good reports and has quite an optimistic future.

The newest resident, who has come to reside in the western studio suite, is named Louie, and despite the fact that his move-in date was January 22, 2026, he still acts as though he is new to town and completely unaware of the rules and behavior expectations of his new neighborhood. Louie likes to party, which means his hours of activity are completely unpredictable. He's fussy, usually a complete mess, and he requires a closet-full of special gear just to make him happy, safe, and presentable for the day. He never acts according to plan, he can yell, sing, or make rude noises at the most inappropriate times, and despite the community having very strict codes of conduct, he ignores every single one of them and demands constant attention. He's often hungover, and despite being bathed several times a day and then swaddled in stupidly expensive attire, he is often times in excruciating pain that he feels compelled to share and complain about to the resident manager who is dangerously close to being out of Tylenol.

Louie and Mr Belly Bean haven't met, but their different lifestyles and dietary restrictions are causing a fair amount of consternation with staff. While maintenance/janitorial members are trying to figure out how to get Louie on the same page as everybody else, the dietary manager is ready to chuck her soup ladle out the window and just resort to protein shakes. Mr Bean has always enjoyed a balanced whole foods diet with lots of fresh fruits and vegetables, lean proteins, whole grains, and an occasional treat, but Louie doesn't seem to like anything. He had just started to figure out the whole salad with grilled chicken thing when the various plagues and infestations started, and safe options are becoming harder and harder to find. He does love sweets and unhealthy snacks, but Mr Bean objects when dinner becomes more of a thirteen-year old boy's dream binge (think pizza, Doritos, TastyKake, etc) so for now they are having to fight it out over cottage cheese plates and spaghetti.

The Assistant Resident Manager is taking a leave of absence to administer a family issue, so the General Manager is left to fend for herself. She can often be found trying to hide in her office with a book, a stitching project, and her flat screen television, but somehow both Louie and Mr Belly Bean are able to find her and force immediate attention be given. Were it not for her sincere dedication and lifetime contractural obligation to keeping Spinster Acres the premier retirement community in the big grey chair in the corner of the living room of CS2, she surely would have considered going elsewhere by now.

Life will continue on, and hopefully soon Louie will settle in and learn the ins and outs of living in community with Mr Bean and all of the other inhabitants, but thoughts and prayers in the meantime are greatly appreciated!

A good day is wished for you all! I hope that your own little community is exactly as you want it to be! Come tell me all about it!

WEEKEND...WITH A GIGGLE

 

A FINISH AND A GOOD START...THE MONDAY REPORT

Hello, Dearies! 

I had a delightfully productive and yet somehow restful weekend! I'm Spinstering this month while Rich gets him mom situated back in her condo, so trying to behave myself is top priority. 🤭

Here's Plum Street Samplers "Mini Moon", stitched on 28ct Colour & Cotton fabric in the color Dandelion. I used the threads that are called for:

Isn't she swell? I have to say...this was the perfect project the re-awaken my stitchy mojo! And, despite being completely unintentional, I have a patriotic finish during our 250 year!

My reading life has settled into a great routine of reading a chapter of Ulysses, followed by the summary/explanation/analysis chapter of the guide by Patrick Hastings. In a million years I never would have imagined it, but I am positively LOVING this book!

I've not been on the scale for several weeks, since I know the number would probably cause me to spiral, but I am eating very well and carefully. Here's my favorite dinner....a veggie flatbread with tzatzki sauce, red onion, cucumber, tomato, and peppers. I also try to add protein in the form of either deli or grilled chicken. Delicious!

Today is laundry day. I cleaned the bathroom to within an inch of its life on Saturday, so I need something a bit less physically hard today. I might even try to get down to the pool later if both the weather and Louie behave themselves!

A happy Monday, indeed! What's making you happy, today? Come tell me all about it!

OH...WHAT A PEACEFUL MORNING

I am having the loveliest day despite the fact that I didn't get out of the big girl sleigh bed until after 1pm! I know, I know...not a good thing, but I am having sleeping issues, and despite my very best attempts to get on a "normal" schedule, I find myself starting out well, but awake for several hours between 2-10 am.

Now Betty, before you come for me, every single one of my docs has explained that sleep issues are part of being me at the moment, and that unless I need to fly a plane full of puppies out of a burning countryside, or drive school children through morning rush traffic...

Let it be. Ride it out. Practice good sleep hygiene. It'll pass.

So in that spirit, I had my morning beverages...apple juice, a vat of iced water, and a proper cup of damn good, and I read the second chapter of Ulysses and the analysis of it on ulyssesguide.com (which is absolutely fantastic). 

A painting crew has set about the huge task of painting the exterior of our apartment complex, so for several weeks we've been hearing lots of ladders banging and taping and such, and yesterday they finished refreshing our balcony.

I forgot how much I love sitting out there! Rich goes out every afternoon to listen to his radio and enjoy a cigar, but for me it was going out in the evening and reading in the rocking chair. Despite the fact that it was still warm, there was the most beautiful breeze, and the humidities were blessedly low! 

Bliss.

The big huge Penguin History of the World is for Spinster School. I had to abandon ship when Louis happened, but I'm ready to jump back in next week. I think I'm going to use World History as the primary "class" and maybe go down little rabbit holes as I come to a certain period that strikes my fancy. So, for example, if I'm reading about the Middle Ages, maybe I take a little detour through the art, music, literature, and culture of the time. 

Just a thought.

I'm going to stick with Ulysses, too, and hope to always have a Shakespeare play going so that by the end of the day I don't feel like this is a chore, but rather a complete pleasure. It's not formal, kids. Just a portly, broken down old Spinster trying to keep her mind active and her days productive. I figure an hour or two here and there is much better for me than incessant doom scrolling.

So that's it, In addition to adding chores and some daily movement into the mix...my days are finally starting to take shape. My evenings have alway been pretty good...stitching or coloring or diamond painting, etc...so now I've got a daytime lineup that matches.

I'll leave you with a funny little thing I found while looking for pictures of pretty stitching. It's some kind of gizmo/site where you can create a portrait of yourself in various styles. 

Here's what I came up with:

 (I wish I could have figured out how to change the martini glass to a coffee cup!)

(Stewey, I think, would have loved this...life size...over the fireplace.)

I'm going to sign off for the weekend. In the spirit of trying to get things done, I have plans of housecleaning and bookshelf dusting (but not on the step-stool...I promise). I hope your days are equally as blissful, and that whatever blows your skirt up is there in abundance! What is that for you? Come tell me all about it!

I'M GOING IN...

Dearies, if you've been dropping by, you've probably wondered what's up with me and the reading.

The truth is...I've always been a reader, but thanks to a couple of podcasts and Moby Dick, I find myself going more in a Classics direction, with a bit of Literary Fiction thrown in as a palate cleanser.

Until now, I have never contemplated reading my next book, because I fell into the trap of thinking it's just too "hard" for me:

But as I was scrolling my eyeballs out on the YouTubes, a Harvard professor named Adam Walker told me otherwise. Instead of pouring over it and studying every word, line, and nuance of this book...he told me to just.read.it. Don't worry if it doesn't make sense. Don't worry if I don't get it. Just. Read. It.

(The professor's rationale is that scholars spend their entire academic careers dissecting this, and there is plenty of analysis to help one do a deep dive. But for a first read...just jump in and enjoy it and know that you will find new things and revelations every time you re-read it, and that there will be nothing like your first time through.)

So in I go...armed with nothing but a cold brew and a wink to the heavens for Professor Cronin...my Senior Thesis mentor at Notre Dame. (We had to write this Senior Thesis as part of the graduation requirement from the Program of Liberal Studies...a fact that terrified me from the moment I stepped into the first PLS class.) 

Professor Cronin had long since retired by the time I put pen to paper, but I honestly think the other professors realized that he was the only one who would know what to do with me.

And he did. He was the most delightful, brilliant, kind, lovely person I could have hoped for. He knew how far out of my depth I was in my program, so he used a firm yet gentle hand while guiding me through a look at Daisy Miller by Henry James. Our meetings were often luncheons at the Morris Inn with his lovely wife, and it was there that I first learned what "courtliness" meant by seeing a living, breathing example of it across the table from me. 

So, cheers to you, Professor Cronin! It took me almost forty years, but here I go!

(I thought this was a lovely remembrance from Notre Dame Magazine after his passing):

EDWARD J. CRONIN ‘38, a legendary professor in the Program of Liberal Studies who taught at Notre Dame for nearly 50 years, passed away on Christmas Day at age 88. He so loved what he taught —literature, especially James Joyce’s Ulysses — that in class he would often read aloud a line from a book and ask, “Isn’t that beautiful?” He said his wish was to die sitting on a bench at the Grotto reading Dickens. He actually was at a local nursing home when he died. The PLS professor was a demanding teacher, nicknamed B-minus Cronin by students because of his high standards and tough grading. As one former student recalls, he would return “themes” in a box labeled “Garbage Out” placed outside his office in the basement of the library. Students were admonished to pick up the papers quickly so as not to violate a city code prohibiting the leaving of garbage in a public place for longer than 48 hours. The devoutly Irish—he referred to Ireland as “the Holy Land” —and Catholic professor was always available to talk with students, though. He referred to these conferences as “confessions.” His teaching was so valued that it wasn’t unusual to hear a student remark, “I’ve got to get my Cronin course before I graduate.” He was a member of the regular faculty from 1949 until he retired in 1981 but continued to teach one course a semester until 1998, when he suffered a stroke. His focus on teaching rather than published research recalled an earlier age for academia, and he was old-fashioned in many other regards. Women were encouraged to wear skirts in class and men to remove their caps and hold the doors open for women. In 1983 the Program of Liberal Studies established the Edward J. Cronin Award for the best-written paper turned in as part of routine departmental course work. The professor himself would present the award at an annual dinner and make a show out of carefully opening the envelope and reading every word on the page, even the letterhead, to draw out the suspense. This year will be the first that the award is presented without him.

MAKING PROGRESS!

 

A quiet, sleepy, hot, hazy, stormy, stitchy Monday. Just what this Spinster needed!

WHY DOES IT FEEL LIKE A MONDAY?

 I just cannot get my wits about me today. Everything is blurry and I keep thinking it's Monday morning, and I must have had an adventurous weekend that has left me befuddled.

Oh well.

Here's progress on Mini Moon:

And here's the next read after finishing Jude the Obscure and having to process it for a few days:

Yes...I know it's not a "Classic", but Jude knocked me out. Honestly...I did NOT expect it to have such a strong impact, but it did, and I needed a minute to recover and then something a bit different after.

I'm still looking forward to the return of Spinster School. I was going at a pretty good pace before surgery, so it's time to get back in the saddle in that regard.

Speaking of surgery...it was exactly six months ago. I feel like I've made good progress, but know that  I still have a fair bit of distance to go!

So Happy Whatever The Day it happens to be, Dearies! Are you well and safe and happy and joyful? Come tell me all about it!

AAAAHHHH...THAT FEELS BETTER

My poor stitchy mojo has been so non-existent lately that I feared it had fled the coop forever. But...thanks to my fifteen minute rule (*) I am happy to report that I am back in the saddle.

I had this lovely project kitted up in the cube room studio, and if memory serves me, I picked it up a few years ago during a Guild trip to the House of Stitches. I promised myself that I would only purchase things in kits, which meant chart, fabric, and threads...and that resulted in an easy decision for a fast start up.

The first step in getting ready for a new start is to create/organize my thread pallet. This means that I basically put little labels with the chart symbols onto a felted surface so that I can hold my working threads and not spend time fishing strands out of the storage pouch or off of cards or out of skeins.

See? Now all I have to do is look at the symbol, strip off a ply, and get to it.

Then I find my bling...these are some of my favorites, and since it's still very summery they seemed still appropriate.

And then we make a start! This was as much as I got done this afternoon while doing six loads of laundry and ordering our monthly household supplies from the Targets.

 And here's where I ended tonight! I hope I don't jinx myself for the rest of the project, but I'm thrilled with the amount of progress I made!

What a happy Sunday, Dearies! I got to spend some quality time with my Jersey Boy, my needle and thread, and some Dots Snack Mix that was somehow part of the household supply delivery.

(*) The fifteen minute rule is that I tell myself I only have to do something for fifteen minutes before giving up or switching to something else. 

 

ZERO STARS. DO NOT RECOMMEND.

Rage cleaning the kitchen for three hours on a 90 degree Monday with one kidney, no thyroid, and no colon?

As I said to Stewey before throwing my Mr Clean Magic Eraser across the room...

WHAT THE BLEEPITY BLEEPITY BLEEP BLEEP AM I DOING?!?!

Oh, Dearies, gone are the days when I was able to clean the house like an Amish woman, do the laundry, change the bed, do the groceries, and cook for the week and not only live to tell the tale...but put on the denim mini and go dance the night away. (*)

I was bemoaning this fact out loud to my Jersey Boy, when he politely reminded me that he reads this here blog, and as far as he can tell I haven't been able to clean the house like and Amish woman, etc since I was in my twenties. That would mean it's been FORTY YEARS ago.

FORTY. YEARS.

Damnit. Just when I was thinking that with enough practice and willpower I might return to my Saturday routines of yore, he has to go and remind me that I am now old and just simply unable to do so.

(Plus, there's that whole kidney, thyroid, and colon thing.)

But it's done, and as soon as I figure out how to get up off the floor, I'm going to re-make the bed, fold the four loads of laundry, take a nice shower, and enjoy the sparkle for the fifteen minutes it's going to last.

Bathroom tomorrow. 🤭😬🤭😬🤭

(*) Of course I didn't have a denim mini! Don't you know me by now? I have always been a beefy gal, and my biggest nightmare would be overhearing somebody say "Oh my Gawd! Did you see that big beefy gal in that denim mini?!"....so I stuck with the pleated front Mom jeans like all of the other beefy gals, thankyouverymuch.

THURSDAY

The days are kind of all blurring together, Dearies, but you won't find one single complaint coming from this direction. I am happy to be living a quiet, restful, simple routine. My stitchy production is nil, but I seem to be reading at a good pace. I finished Katabasis and then The Secret History, and now I think I'll jump into East of Eden or Jude the Obscure. Not sure which yet.

The Shamrock Series uniforms were unveiled without a peep of disappointment from Yours Truly. Neat, crisp, traditional, and not a hint of shower mould. (My school had a propensity for trying to recreate the wheel for a bit with stupid trends like all white, gold lame', or colors that don't exist in normal nature.)

So that's it for now.

I'm here.

THE MORE THINGS CHANGE...THE MORE THEY STAY THE SAME 🫤

 

 

YOU'RE WELCOME, DEARIES

 

This is Rick Springfield.

He is 76 years old.

If you're anywhere near 60 years of age, you're hearing Jessie's Girl in your head right about now, and you're thinking back to Saturday afternoons on the back patio listening to Casey Kasem's America's Top 40 on the radio whilst adding more baby oil and Sun-In to get that "fresh from the beach" look, even though you were 125 miles from anything resembling a body of water larger than a municipal swimming pool.

That photograph, by the way, is from one of his RECENT concert appearances. 

As in last week recent.

Did I mention he's 76 years old?

MONDAY...AGAIN

Good morning, Dearies. I'm up and moving, but not very far and definitely not very fast. The fatigue level is stupid-high lately, and it's about all I can do to keep my peepers open.

But I am freshly showered with clean hair...a mighty undertaking when doing so feels like running an IronMan marathon...and I am happily attired in my "leisure wear". (It's basically a pajama set that I fished out of the closet, but it's black and with the right accessories could pass for...pajamas.)

I've got my water filled and ready to go. I have to ask, though....is it possible for these sippy cups to lose their ability to keep things cold? I notice that ice is not lasting as long as it used to, and by the time I make it to the bottom of my fourth or fifth fill, I've gone through much more ice than I used to.

I had never understood what a hyper-fixation meal was until it dawned on me that I have been eating the same thing for my first meal of the day for over a year now:

There's something about the contrast of the cottage cheese with everything bagel seasoning combined with the fruit that makes me feel both healthy and satisfied. This is just such an easy go-to for me, and I usually have it between 11ish and 2ish. I can't seem to eat when I first wake up, and my appetite really only wants two meals a day with maybe a small snack of cheese and crackers in between, but this is a) highly approved by my people, and b) somehow exactly what I want. 

Go figure.

I finished Anna Karenina and sat with it for a few days and then grabbed this off of my TBR shelf. I really loved her previous book, Babel, and although it was completely out of my normal genre comfort zone, I decided to try this one, too. It's good, and I'm enjoying it, but definitely different than my normal thing.

When I finish this, I'm going to do a deep read of Joyce's Ulysses. I've never read it, but I wrote my Senior Thesis with a Joyce scholar named Ed Cronin, and he always told me to wait to read it until I knew it was the exact right moment to do so. 

I think this might be it.

My stitchy life is so quiet I have to poke it with a stick every now and then to make sure it's not dead. No worries, though. I go through this every single year at this time, so I'm sure that once I get a needle back in my hand all will be well once again.

My evening television viewing has been bingeing, bingeing, bingeing. First, I watched the final two seasons of Outlander. I had already seen Season Seven, but was so lost that I decided to re-watch it so I could enjoy the final Season Eight.

And I did.

Then, I watched Rooster on HBO. I was never a fan of The Office, so Steve Carell wasn't somebody I knew/liked a lot, but Rooster really did it for me. I loved his character and acting so much that I finished Rooster and jumped over to The Four Seasons and watched all of it.

Now I'm on Season Two of The Bear. Totally different sensibility, and I find myself having to pull my shoulders out of my ears because of the tense feeling of the scenes, but I'm also loving it (and Jeremy Allen White).

Other than that, I'm trying to behave myself while Rich is getting his mom situated in New Jersey. She had another fall a few months ago, and has been in a re-hab facility, but it's time for her to transition from living alone in her condo to a more secure situation. I think they've found the perfect place...so fingers crossed that it will all work out. (And if you're so inclined, a prayer to The Big Guy that the nuns at Villa Raffaella in Pleasantville can work their magic would also be appreciated!)

That's life in a nutshell here in Hoosierville, Dearies. Quiet. Easy. Beautiful. As I sit here writing to you, a teeny little girl is playing and singing on one of the balconies across the courtyard. Every now and then, her mom bursts out in the most beautiful laughter over something the little girl has sung, and it sounds like wind chimes to me. I can't understand the words...they're in Mandarin maybe?...but I could listen to her sing that funny little song all day.

Happy Monday. I hope your week is off to a wonderful start. What are you up to? Come tell me all about it!

 

HAPPY WEEKEND DEARIES!

 

GUESS WHAT I GET TO DO TODAY?

Somebody needs to fire my Appointment Secretary. Who ever heard of having to be somewhere at 9am?!

Yesterday I deep-cleaned the bathroom, so today I can't lift my arms or move my legs. Good thing all I have to do is GO TO THE DENTIST AT THE FREAKIN CRACK OF DAWN!

Happy Tuesday, Desries!

GUESS WHAT I'M DOING TODAY?