My Withdrawal

 

I debated telling you about this.  It’s not my usual sort of thing at all.

 

But then I remembered that time I got the disastrous Botox injections that melted my face and made my migraines worse; specifically, I thought about all the people who commented on that post, or contacted me about it, and all the people whose heartbreaking search terms lead them to it every week.  I thought about that and I thought, “I wish someone had told me five years ago what I know now!”

 

The decision sort of made itself after that.

 

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

2019: In With a Sniffle

 

I really want to give you something special today.  I want to start 2019 off with a bang, you know?

 

But here’s the thing: I’m sick as a fucking dog* and dealing with some serious post-holiday blah on top of it all.

 

This was our first Christmas with Offspring as a (welcome!  So very welcome we almost didn’t let him leave) “visitor” rather than a permanent installment in our home, and now my holiday season has an official end: the day he leaves.  Always before, I was content—determined, even—to keep my tree and my carols and my lights going as long as would be permitted by Husband, the neighbors, and local laws.  But when I hugged Private Squdgee Booboo goodbye (and went right back to bed because his flight was at bullshit o’clock) I had no further desire to light the tree.  It’s not that I’m over Christmas, it’s just… it all looks sort of sad now that he’s not here.  Like a Who house after the Grinch left; all hooks and wire and crumbs.

(How the Grinch Stole Christmas) sad Who house, all stripped bare of Christmas cheer and decor following a visit from the Grinch; wires and scraggly bits of tinsel hang from hooks and the hearth is bare

 

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

Actual Conversations With Great British Bakers

 

I have a bone to pick with whomever recommended The Great British Baking Show as soothing, low-stakes programming.  So basically, the entire internet.

 

It probably didn’t help that I started my binge during a particularly vicious migraine, being—for once—in no mood for the brooding glances of Colin Sodding Firth, or my beloved Audrey Hepburn’s struggle to find herself and maybe a name for the cat.   Turns out when I’ve got a migraine I need gentle, low-stakes, and familiar.

 

Otherwise I end up on the couch—in full noodle mode from a combination of Percocet and migraine meds—talking to the bakers.  Like they can hear me.

 

Don’t stop now – keep reading!