I’m joining in Pip’s tradition of taking stock this month, and she has a blank list you can copy over if you want to join too.
Making : A New Year’s garland with tinsel tassel and champagne corks from celebrations in my life. All the corks were in a box with tags on them and it was starting to be less “celebration collection!” and more “why do you have this box of trash?”
Cooking : Vegan oatmeal, and peanut butter cookies. Brad is allergic to eggs and dairy, so I’ve been using flax seed as an egg substitute and soy products in my baking. I can’t tell the difference, and Brad is totally still alive thanks to hippie bullshit. Well done, hippies.
Drinking : Boozy root beer called Not Your Father’s Root Beer. It’s delicious, if weirdly named. Stereotypically speaking, old-timey dads were full-time drunk. Maybe the brewer is the son of a pastor or something? In which case I say, “Not your father’s root beer, dude.”
Reading: Atlas Obscura, a compendium of unusual places. It’s a delight, except it’s too big to read in bed. The corner of the cover kept digging into my temple because I was resting half the book on my face to ease thumb strain. So I ended up buying the e-book version too. It’s my first e-book, so mixed feelings.
Trawling: Junk shops for old hats. I’d like to be a not-crazy hat wearer. I feel the crazies have taken all the hat wearing for themselves, which is a shame because hats used to be so respectable and discreet. Now it’s like “Look-a me! I’m a’wearin’ a hat!” This is what I imagine your average modern-day hat wearer thinks to herself before she leaves the house to go anywhere besides a wedding. Is this how it’s going to feel to read real books in public twenty years from now? Futurism bums me out sometimes.
Wanting: Time alone. Always and always. Mothering a toddler is a contact sport.
Looking: At the People magazine the girl a few rows up is reading. I’m writing this on a plane. Why did I not buy a People magazine?
Deciding: On travel plans for next year. I prefer to be spontaneous, but it’s too expensive. A friend on Facebook recently mentioned that an airline was having a flash sale, and I scored $500 round trip tickets to Paris for our anniversary. Now I’ve vowed to sign up for low-fare alerts on everything and tell all my Facebook people too.
Listening: To Dan Auerbach’s “When the Night Comes” because @AnilDash asked Twitter, “What’s a song that was not a hit (or that hasn’t become a standard) that you wish everyone could hear?” and that was mine. Good thread.
Buying: Tiny things for the baby to clench in his fists while he bops around. Ozzy loves choke-ables. He’s kept track of this minuscule banana from a Minions Lego set for the better part of a year, and every so often he offers you a bite, then pretends to nibble it himself. I find tiny dog figurines pressed in his hand while he’s sleeping. They leave little dog-shaped imprints in his palm.
Watching: Divorce, the new Sarah Jessica Parker show. Pretty good.
Marvelling: I literally learned on this trip that people in snow scenes in the movies breathe into their hands not to warm them, but to warm the air they’re breathing. Because the air gets so cold it hurts to breathe in, which is not a thing I had ever considered. I had this experience and did not know what to do, until a nice Muslim cab driver who was originally from Africa (where it is much warmer) explained it to me. Helpful. Then we discussed how he had two wives in different countries. He was the first real, live polygamist I’ve met and I was very excited. I said “YOU HAVE TWO FAMILIES! WHAT?! Please tell me all the things.” And then he did, and I refrained from asking inappropriate questions, because respect for other religions is the cornerstone upon which our country is built, and because most of my real questions were about sexy times.
Cringing: Because I said “you too!” twice to different gate agents who wished me a good flight.
Needing: A good puffer jacket that doesn’t look dumb. Minneapolis was cold AF, and I know nothing about dressing for inconvenient snow. Suggestions welcome.
Questioning: Whether I have enough spouses.
Smelling: Everyone else’s breath. And Pringles.
Wearing: Compression socks and this dress that’s actually giant cozy sweatshirt.
Noticing: That the girl next to me accepted the middle seat when some dude took her window. Then she spent the rest of the flight pretending to read while he tried to chat her up. They both speak Spanish and all she’s saying is “Ah. Si,si,si,si.” with the occasional “Claro.” thrown in for variety. Sir. Shut up and enjoy your stolen seat.