Blogging University, Writing

It’s Always Sweater Weather

My blog wife Christa, A Voluptuous Mind, tagged me in this questionnaire about autumn. Do you honestly think I’m not going to jump at the opportunity to combine several of my most favorite things? Also counting this as a Writing 101 post just so you guys know I’M NOT A QUITTER. Let’s do this.

Day 16 Image
Image via

Favourite candle scent? I don’t really like to burn candles (esp. with added Bertha Mason-induced paranoia about leaving things burning), but I suppose apple or pumpkin is acceptable for the season.

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?  TEA. TEA. A THOUSAND TIMES TEA.

What is the best fall memory you have? My family and I used to go on a not-so-scary haunted hayride at a local farm when I was a kid. I got to pick out a pumpkin to carve, drink hot apple cider, and pet goats. There were also llamas and a Scottish Highland bull!

Best fragrance for fall? Not really into perfume, so my own natural scent.

Favourite Thanksgiving food? Dill rolls. Is it obnoxious that the dish I make every year is my fave? They’re pretty fucking fantastic, though. Pumpkin cheesecake, which is infinitely preferable to pumpkin pie, is a close second.

Most worn sweater?  Robin’s egg blue Mr. Rogers-style sweater that probably deserves to retire. I want to be buried in that sweater.

Football games or jumping in leaf piles? Leaf piles. Duh.

Favourite type of pie? Apple berry, but I accept all varieties of pie.

What is autumn weather like where you live? Fluctuates wildly. It usually lasts for about a week, when it’s mild, sunny, and full of colorful leaves. Then everything suddenly dies overnight and it’s frigid and gray. This year it’s been a nice but suspiciously warm autumn. The leaves are turning and looking gorgeous right now.

Which make-up trend do you prefer, dark lips or winged liner? You’re lucky if I’ve brushed my hair, world. I like the winged liner look, but I would lose an eye if I attempted it. I’m just going to have to admire the look and be a teensy bit envious that it’s a thing other people can pull off.

What song really gets you into the fall spirit?  Nothing in particular, but I’ve been listening to a lot of Neko Case at the moment.

Is pumpkin spice worth the hype? Eh, not really. I prefer apple and/or butternut squash to pumpkin-flavored things.

Favourite fall TV show? Battlestar Galactica is appropriate year-round.

Skinny jeans or leggings? I don’t really wear either of these things. I may be wearing a greater number of leggings in the future as I seem to have acquired several librarian skirts, and it is my goal to avoid shaving for (at least) a solid six months.

Combat boots or Uggs? Tennis shoes. As a bigfoot, shoe shopping is the bane of my existence and I avoid it at all costs.

Halloween – yay or nay? YAY. Why is this even a question???

Fall mornings or evenings?  I suppose mornings at the moment? All of the above, though, honestly.

What do you think about Black Friday?  It fills me with terror.

One fall 2015 trend you love?  SWEATERS. I don’t think that’s necessarily a fall 2015 trend, but I don’t care. Sweaters are TIMELESS.


Also supposed to tag 10 or so people, but I don’t think I know 10 bloggers I want to tag. Here are 5, halfway between the number I’d like to tag (0) and the number I’m supposed to tag (10):

Fannie Frankfurter

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Internet

Kelsey’s Journey

Sash Around the Clock

Simply Marquessa

Blogging University, Writing

Writing 101: I Know You’re Just Here for the Food (and/or Cats)

This prompt I’ll do even though it included a quote from a fortune cookie (please tell me you rolled your eyes too, Christa).

Based on my poll, all 3 of you who read this blog are evenly divided between the topics of cats, books, and food.  It’s like you’ve kept hanging on with this blog because we have something in common.

Under more typical circumstances, I would be happy to talk about books, but stress brain is making it impossible for me to concentrate on reading.  Or really anything, but at least I have reliable coping mechanisms that require little concentration:  bothering Bertha Mason (and, indirectly Joey [who now gets the dubious honor of being The Other Cat]), stress baking, and throwing things away.

I’m really tired of writing about me, though, and I don’t understand how you guys aren’t sick of hearing about me.  You must be extremely patient souls.

Let’s combine the subjects of cats and food by talking about a cat who loved food, Cowboy (named for his black-and-white spots rather than a familial obsession with the western genre or the Dallas football team).  Cowboy was the cat who was around for most of my childhood and with whom I had a love/hate relationship. He was a terrible cat, you guys. Terrible. I was afraid to sleep because Cowboy attacked my hair and liked to murder sparrows and hide under my bed growling like a maniac. Fucked up when you’re 7, right? I also lost a friend because Cowboy chased her down a hallway during one of my birthday parties. Seriously, she never spoke to me again.  Thanks, cat, but I do well enough embarrassing myself in social situations without your help.

Cowboy was a feral cat, so he never really settled down until he was too old to care (and had to have most of his teeth taken out because he would never let the vet look at his rotting teeth). Basically he was afraid of nothing and motivated only by food…which I can respect.

Action shot!
Action shot!

Let’s make a list of things Cowboy ate that he shouldn’t have because why the fuck not:

  1. My hair (see above)
  2. A plant I was supposed to grow for a science project (and really plants as a whole)
  3. Loaves of bread left out on the counter
  4. Brownies my friend JG made when she visited from New York
  5. Barbie feet (though, in retrospect, I probably should thanked him for his hostility towards the patriarchy)
  6. All things dairy even when they made him vomit
  7. Cardboard
  8. Rubber bands
  9. Catnip (the only normal cat thing he ate, but it made him extra aggressive)
  10. Basically all non-fruit objects

Truly, I admired his spirit.

One lonely person who voted for books, I will make a real effort to do another book review. I promise. Hopefully The Heart Goes Last.

Blogging University, Writing

Writing 101, or: I’d Rather Talk About Margaret Atwood

Blogging prompt I was supposed to use some time last week (Thursday maybe?  Let’s say Thursday):  Recreate a single day.

Remember Saturday? How I ate a lot of cheese and expertly hand washed my sweaters?

Way ahead of you, Writing 101. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay ahead of you.

So I’m just going to write about Margaret Atwood instead, who is incredibly ahead of us all.

I wasn’t really aware Margaret Atwood had written yet another novel until about a month ago, or at least it was buried deep in some hidden corner of my brain. Ever since, I have been obsessed with The Heart Goes Last, and I’m dying to read it. I keep telling myself I’m going to wait for a library copy, but it will be published tomorrow, and I’m kind of leaning towards the “Fuck it, I need this now” option. Prime is the great enabler of my terrible financial decisions.

All I know is this novel is about a married couple agreeing to spend alternate months serving a prison sentence (for reasons I don’t know), which is bound to be so very bitter and bleak and darkly funny. And in this interview with the goddess herself, she says it’s about sex robots. (I really feel you should read the interview. It includes a brilliant 5-word Margaret Atwood story: “Wanted him. Got him. Shit.”)

Have you read the MaddAddam trilogy? Please, please do. I’m hoping for more of the absolutely dismal picture of humanity MA gives us while writing women characters who are so enviably strong and capable. Mostly Toby from Year of the Flood.  I can’t think of anyone who writes as beautifully sarcastically as Margaret Atwood, who has given us “Say about others what you would have them say about you. In other words, nothing.” Also “There were a lot of gods. Gods always come in handy, they justify almost anything.” And probably my favorite of Margaret Atwood’s: “People cry at weddings for the same reason they cry at happy endings: because they so desperately want to believe in something they know is not credible.”

Because I don’t get to brag about this a lot, this is my fancy signed copy of The Handmaid’s Tale. Seethe with envy, reader(s).

Day 14 Image

Blogging 101, Writing

Writing 101: The Fashion Blog You Never Knew You Needed

I can’t pretend I’m even a little bit interested in the prompt for today (and by today I mean Wednesday). One of the suggestions: a series of vignettes connected by drinking your signature drink. This would be easier if my signature drink wasn’t tea and sadness. And by that, of course, I mean tea brewed with my tears and sweat. (Ugh, I’ll stop, I promise. I don’t want to be responsible for you being unable to drink another cup of tea again.)

So let’s talk about what I’ve been doing with my thrilling weekend. Today’s task (besides getting caught up with blogging, cooking, and watching Filth): sorting out my closet/making room for my nice new professional wardrobe (ha).

Honestly, I really, really like throwing things away. I have too much stuff, largely comprised of books, kitchen gadgets (you will pry my brûlée torch from my cold, dead fingers), and clothing. I also have a large collection of Beanie Babies in the basement that I was completely ready to donate, but my mom didn’t want to get rid of them (you’re part of the problem, Mom).

Since I know this sounds like the most fun ever, let’s play a game where you guess if I kept that piece of clothing, threw it away, or denied all knowledge of its existence (as in went back into old photos and edited it out, Stalin-style). Except not really a game because I’ll tell you immediately what decision I made. It’ll be more like I invited you over and told you we’d have a fun afternoon, but instead you got stuck with me interrogating you about my wardrobe decisions (and then completely disregarding everything you suggest).

We’ll start with an easy one:

Keep. Obviously.
Outfit I wore for the freshman dance in high school. Throw away. Why do I even have this still?
Outfit I wore for the freshman dance in high school. Throw away. Why do I even have this still?
This one was hard because the fish are so cute, but the shirt is a bit on the short side. Throw away.
This one was hard because the fish are so cute, but the shirt is a bit on the short side. Throw away.
Felt weird about throwing away since I'll be working for my alma mater in a few short days (4!). Keep even though I have never in my life worn spirit wear except when gardening/cleaning. As my mom helpfully observed,
Felt weird about throwing away since I’ll be working for my alma mater in a few short days (4!). Keep even though I have never in my life worn spirit wear except when gardening/cleaning. As my mom helpfully observed, “You could wear it when you’re outside. Welllllll, you’re never outside, are you?” Thanks, Mom.
I have no recollection of ever wearing (or buying) this. Why on earth do I have anything with such a large bow in my wardrobe? Throw away. Really not a bow kind of person.
Much as it pains me, throw away. Those owls are adorable, but this shirt is much too short.
Much as it pains me, throw away. Those owls are adorable, but this shirt is much too short.
Keep. Duh.
Keep. Duh.
Bertha Mason passed judgment on this one, so throw away.
Bertha Mason passed judgment on this one, so throw away. “I call this a statement piece. It makes the statement ‘I have no taste in fashion.'”

How did you do?  And, more importantly, how did I do?  In 10 years am I going to look back and think my life could’ve been completely different if only I’d kept that dress with the giant ass bow?

Blogging University, Writing

Writing 101: Word Count

Let’s talk about being clear and concise in writing.  Yeah, not my strong suit.  I have a lot to say, guys, and you should be honored that you have the privilege of listening to my opinion on such a regular basis.

That being said, my posts are (usually) under 1,000 words, so I do spare you the entirety of my stream-of-consciousness.  I’m challenging myself to make this post under 100 words (which I’ve already gone over).  150 then.

This is flash creative non-fiction, you guys.  Under 50 words.  Prepare to be blown away.

Things I did to avoid this blogging assignment: took a walk. Cleaned the cat litter. Went shopping for more cat litter. Made a casserole. Threw away old copies of National Geographic. Moved heavy pieces of art into the basement. Now there’s nothing left but to write.  Or wash dishes.

Blogging University, Writing

Writing 101: My Fabulous Life

Fuck it, guys. I’m just barely hanging on in terms of Writing 101. Instead of motivating each other to keep going, Christa and I have fallen into a black hole of negativity that we just keep pulling each other further into. I’m cool with that—it’s what we do.

“What do you do when you’re not writing?” is the question I’m addressing. Which I interpret as “What did you do today?” in a way that isn’t just polite—you really want to know every minute detail of what I did today.  Here it is, guys.  My fabulous life:

After I woke up, I found 2 lip balms under my night stand. I decided today was going to be a good day since I’ve gone from known locations of 0 to 2 (of 4) lip balms, BERTHA MASON.

Obviously the first thing I did with intent was make a cup of tea. Day will be off to a bad start without a cup of tea. This is approx. 7:30 am, btw. I can’t sleep in anymore, which is pretty upsetting when you consider how much I love sleep. I sat around for a while trying to convince myself to work on this post. Didn’t happen.

After about 2 hours of debating if I should do something more productive with my morning, I made a hash brown casserole. Then I remembered how terrible I am at waiting and ate pumpkin waffles with apple cider syrup for breakfast instead. (That casserole took AN HOUR to cook, you guys. It was really good and contained way more cheese than any other ingredient, but AN HOUR.)

I decided to take my (brisk) walk for the day after breakfast. Bertha Mason helped with resistance training by sitting on my leg as I stretched.

If anyone doubts my commitment to the care of my sweaters, I hand washed not one, but TWO sweaters. And by that I mean I kind of swirled them around in the bathroom sink with some laundry detergent and then let them sit for a few minutes. They’re clean now, right? Super fucking clean.

At this point I kind of forgot I was working this afternoon, so I had to run around simultaneously putting away groceries, finding business casual-y clothes to wear, and speed eating lunch (a little bit of hash brown casserole and a little bit of lo mein. It was fusion cuisine).  Bertha Mason once again offered her assistance by running after me and trying to bite my ankles.

After work, my mom and I made veggie soup with grilled brie, turkey, and cranberry sandwiches. Have I mentioned I’m ready for Thanksgiving food? Because I am.

Since then, I’ve been working on this post and drinking a lot of tea. My goal is to keep blogging…but you know me too well to believe that’s going to happen. I’ll probably be watching Star Trek: TOS and eating cheesecake.  What I feel you should take away from all this is that, on a typical day, I eat a lot of cheese, drink a lot of tea, watch a bit of sci-fi, and lose some blood to Bertha Mason.  If it’s a good day.

Blogging University, Writing

Writing 101: No

Okay, guys.  Here’s the deal.

Writing 101 seemed like a really good idea at the time…but I forgot how much I hate other people telling me what to write/how to spend my free time.

Write an open letter to someone?  Write a life update in the form of a coffee date???  Coffee date is the lowest form of dating, is it not?  It says, essentially, “I want to avoid any confusion about who’s paying for what and completely dodge the possibility of having to pay for a fancy dinner.  Also I want to be able to get the fuck out and not have to wait for the check in case things go horribly, horribly wrong.”

Even if this is a casual coffee meet-up…I’m sorry, I’d rather be watching Netflix.

So I’ll play along and update you on my life, but I’m not pretending I’m anywhere besides sprawled on the couch with my kitten Bertha Mason.

What’s going on?  Not much, just freaking out about starting a new job in less than 2 weeks.  You know, going from 3 jobs in the past year (simultaneously for a much longer period than I would’ve liked) to one full-time university library job. I’ll be a supervisor for the first time ever, and it makes me want to run away and hide.

When good things happen to you, do you immediately wonder how long it will take for you to utterly fuck everything up? Do you suspect that someone must have been blackmailed to offer you this position and feel you are really not worthy? I’m positive this is a feeling everyone gets, but I’m equally confident that feeling like the most irrational/neurotic human being ever goes hand in hand with this state of mind.

On the bright side, I got this excellent piece of jewelry that I’m never taking off.

Day 10 Image

Blogging University, Writing

Writing 101: Poor Tagging Decisions

Dear Internet Creep with a Slipper Fetish,

I do acknowledge that I have failed to consider the negative consequences of some of my tags on this blog.  Number of times I’ve used the tags “lesbians,” “Nazis,” “gross,” “Masters of Sex,” and “creepy old men”?  Mistake.  Big mistake.

However, I really don’t think I could’ve foreseen the “slippers” tag going so horribly wrong.  I used that particular tag for a photo of my fuzzy blue slippers (you can’t even see my ankles) without thinking about you and the other creeps of the internet.

It’s a strange world we live in when you search for “slippers fetish out” and get my blog as one of your results.  Sorry to disappoint you, but you’re not going to find porn on this blog. I admit I am a bit more cautious when tagging my posts now.  Creeps of the internet, I don’t want you here any more than I’m sure you want to be here.

I suppose you might argue that if I don’t want creeps to visit my blog, I could always just stop blogging because that’s probably the kind of person you are.  Fuck it, though, right?  I could post a picture of my elbow and some weird dude would get turned on.  If I avoided doing something every time someone made me uncomfortable, I would never leave the house again (it’s so tempting, isn’t it?).  There’s no way I’m going to stop posting pictures of my slippers/elbows/whatnot.  I have pretty sexy elbows, honestly.

I hope you find the fuzziest slippers in existence and are very happy with them.

Best wishes,


P.S. Fellow bloggers, what are the weirdest search terms that have brought people to your blog? The librarian in me loves this kind of shit.

Blogging University, Writing

Writing 101: Not So Great at This Inspirational Quote Thing

Let’s talk books a little. I am slightly ashamed that, based on the frequency of book discussions on this blog, I read rarely to never. As a librarian, I do read way less than I feel I should. Like now. I could be reading right now, but I’m probably going to write this blog post, get my shit together for tomorrow, and sleep. If you want to give me a break, I’m recovering from grad school (that’s a shameful lie…my program ended almost a year and a half ago [YIKES]).

I just started reading Lidia Yuknavitch’s The Small Backs of Children. Fine, it was 2 weeks ago and I’ve only read 50 pages. I decided to pick up the novel after reading her short story “Woven,” which is so beautiful and sad. The quote I want to talk about in this post is from that story.

“Now, when someone hurts me, I remember that they are only living the terms of their own fictions—sometimes desperately—so their selves don’t unravel.”  —Lidia Yuknavitch, “Woven”

I think that’s a sucker punch to the gut kind of quote. Can you appreciate why it’s taking me so long to get through her novel?

Let’s keep it honest: I’m not a very forgiving person. People suck, don’t they? But I think this line of Yuknavitch’s is brave and painful and empathetic. It hurts to feel like you’re unravelling and that you can’t do anything to stop it. When there’s nothing else you can do, it becomes so important to make sure you aren’t vulnerable to other people realizing what a shit show you are and how easily they could knock you over if they wanted to. That’s when you hurt other people so they don’t hurt you first.

Like the narrator, I try to remember other people aren’t as in control as they might like to think when people get pissed at me because I don’t know what they mean or some asshole cuts me off or my neighbor acts like a dick (I’m never letting that go).

I feel I could’ve gone more inspiring with this post. Enjoy this pretty picture of the sky at night from Unsplash?

Day 7 Image

Blogging University, Writing

Writing 101: Commentary You Never Knew You Needed

This prompt, you guys. This prompt. I was browsing through my comments looking for my, erm, incredibly insightful(?) feedback and found this instead. This is a response to kelsee727’s day 2 list on her blog, Kelsey’s Journey:

Ben & Jerry are the most important men in my life.
I’m a Phish Food girl. 🙂
Love your list! I hate shaving, but I do like the smooth leg feel.

That is the closest a blog post comment has ever come to capturing my essential nature. Things I do a lot: eat ice cream, touch my legs, read lists. Things I do rarely: shave my legs.

The end.

Oh, 100 words isn’t good enough? Fine. Let’s take a moment to appreciate Ben & Jerry’s then, shall we? So we already know Phish Food is the greatest of all Ben & Jerry’s flavors; however, my current obsession is Cinnamon Buns. I acknowledge that I may have overdone pumpkin in autumns gone by (pumpkin soup, pumpkin mac & cheese, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin cream cheese cookies [but I will NEVER apologize for pumpkin waffles with apple cider syrup]). This year (as we careen wildly towards October?!!?!?), I’m not really feeling it with pumpkin, but I’m obsessed with cinnamon. Admittedly, cinnamon is appropriate for all seasons, though it tastes better when you’re wearing a sweater, no? Or is that just a librarian thing?

Pretty sure it’s no longer available, but Goodbye Yellow Brickle Road was amazing, and not only because it was the Elton John flavor. Chocolate, peanut butter cookie dough, butter brickle. Also delicious: Clusterfluff (stupidly renamed What a Cluster because it offended people and Ben & Jerry let the terrorists win [I can only assume]).

You thought this post was going to be about more than just ice cream? You don’t know me at all.