Adding sequins and seed beads to a coat is as good a winter project as any.
Don’t prick your finger.
Just keep sparkling.

Adding sequins and seed beads to a coat is as good a winter project as any.
Don’t prick your finger.
Just keep sparkling.

Locating the sliver of extra light we gain each day will have to be enough of an accomplishment for the moment at hand.
When I call and text my friends that I need to talk to them, I usually get crickets.
When I give advance warning not to call because I’m about to head into a movie or show, they will invariably call and text.
My phone is ridiculously pointless.
My pathology originates here.
(PS – The featured photo shows the average number of spam calls I get of a day, which is why the ringer is always off. It won’t even vibrate because I don’t want to know.)
I long for the days when my social media feed was how to tie scarves, Tom Ford underwear, garden meditations, and Madonna.
Please, algorithm gods, return me to such a happily innocuous realm.
The sound of a lawnmower will always be sweeter than the sound of a snowblower.
Both are better than the sound of a leaf blower.
Neither is as nice as the pool pump kicking on.
Comparison remains the ultimate thief of joy.
There are still people out there who exclaim, “Holy mackerel!” without a shred of irony or snarkiness.
This makes me happy.
I heard one of them say this at the cafe the other night. The marvel was real; the reassurance in humanity was brief.
The interminable edging session that this wait for the new Madonna album has become…
If we’re not teaching kids cursive, how are they going to sign their name?
Printed like a child?
Sad.
Do we slice an English muffin with a knife or pull it apart with our hands?
The literature on this is inconsistent.

Overheard recently, perhaps out of my own mouth:
“You don’t have to ask us to forget what you just said. It’s the damn default.”
That there are still people who like me in this world is a minor miracle.
I need to get back into crocheting again – not for lifelong blankets, but for things to wear – sweaters and speedos – shit like that. Then I can turn this into a crochet blog – lots of hooks to bring people in… oh go groan somewhere else.
Sometimes savoring selfishness is just basic fucking survival.
Go feral in 2026. I sure as fuck am…
My friend Chris is correct: the mid-length black puffer coat is depressingly ubiquitous. He didn’t put it quite that way, but that’s why I’m here.