You’ve probably noticed by now that mine is the only US-based blog that didn’t do an eclipse post.



from Bedazzled, Sensitive Man crying at sunset


All I wanted was to post some shitty pictures of the eclipse, but we had 157% cloud cover, so that didn’t happen.


Then the Sock Monkey showed me how to plan the next one, and I decided to tell you about my plans for 2024.


But when I talked to Husband about all that, he brought up Erie.  So now I have to tell you about Erie before I can do anything else.  Because I’m trying to do that thing where I tell stories in chronological order, except clearly I’m doing it wrong.


Don’t stop now – keep reading!


The Dry Fire Misfire (Story Time!)


This, I’m afraid, is not a story about a thing my husband did.  Or a thing my husband said.  (Although, seriously, remind me to tell you about the time he started a rumor as a social experiment that ended in flooding and destruction of government property and necessary supplies.)
This is yet another story about his time in a snazzy blue beret, during his days as a Professional Walker.  In this story, he was walking along and just happened to witness one of Uncle Sam’s finest, being all he could be. 


Don’t stop now – keep reading!

This is Halloween

Pre-haunty Warning: I’m going to try posting less frequently (twice a week instead of the usual three, but we’ll still keep the Saturday bonus feature) for a while, in order to avoid what happened this time last year.  Clearly, I am unable to manage all of my time commitments in an adult fashion: when I get overwhelmed, I either A) keep doing everything, super-hard, nonstop, until I have an actual breakdown; or B) just stop doing everything and wait for the world to go away and leave me alone.


This year, I’m going to try to avoid option B, where I stop writing and then keep on not writing out of shame for the fact that I’ve been not writing, until it’s Christmas and you’ve forgotten who the hell I am.

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

“That New Italian Place” (Story Time!)


First off, I need to make sure y’all understand that I am not an Italian food snob.  I mean, I’ve had amazing authentic Italian, at little places I can’t name because there’s exactly one location and I remember it when I’m in the neighborhood (you know how it goes, right?  Please tell me I’m not the only one who navigates/feeds herself like this) so I do know what good is.  It’s fucking amazing and leaves you food drunk and unable to properly contemplate your next meal, even many hours later, because nothing will ever be quite that tasty.


But I’m also a sucker for Olive Garden. 

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

Good Morning, House Demon


Remember that thing I told you, about how he drives like his father?  Well, like almost nothing I write here, I conveyed that information because it was important.* 


Husband, along with his many adorable quirks, has a crazy-making, fascist obsession with the lights.  The very idea that, somewhere in the house, a light is on with nobody around to see it makes him twitch.  This is especially baffling for me because, as he himself admits, any given light bulb draws a ridiculously tiny amount of power.  Seriously, my choice to leave the light on over the basement steps for a few hours costs us maybe 1.5 cents every night. 


He’s done the math.

Don’t stop now – keep reading!