In June I said I was going to go on a bender, which I kind of did and had a lot of unexpected fun, then July was sort of a space out that felt both too short and like it would never end and I became a year older. And now we are here. In June I also said that I would get serious in August because that’s when it would be least expected. I’m still on board with that, though it would be much easier to buckle down if it wasn’t so hot and I didn’t keep getting occular migraines (not headaches, just the zigzags and auras) accompanied by a weird pinched nerve sensation and dizziness. So far, I’ve had three instances since my birthday, two Saturdays ago. I’m still determined to stay on my get shit done course even though at this very moment I’m consumed with the thought of just lying on my couch for the next 30 minutes.
First, I have been meaning to add to my 1990 Hello Kitty tattoo since at least the mid-’90s. By now, it had become less about embellishment and balance with the larger tattoo on my other upper arm and more about reclaiming the poor old blurred mess. I was tired of being precious about a design and went on slight, not full, whim and called on Ashley at Magic Cobra Tattoo Society because she had a sensibility and humor I appreciated even though I’ve never been one for old-school tattoo styles. And here it is.
Now, next order of business is pitching all of the articles and essays I’ve been sitting on for the past seven months like an insecure hoarder. No more. Bracing for “nos” is exhausting. Here is to “yeses” and ambiguity and making a pest of myself if I must. I’ve also been slacking on my own projects and that needs to stop. Looking seriously for a new job? That may have to wait until September, which is still summer, as I insist on pointing out every goddamn year. September might just turn out to be the sleeper month.
The kitchen, hmm…I’m stuck on the range and have sunk deeper into, or rather I’m coming to terms with, a lifestyle of lowered expectations. Last summer’s $4,000+ mauve Bluestar gave way to this year’s $2,500+ Bertazzoni (to the $1,800 slide-in Bosch disaster) and now I’m considering a most uncool freestanding GE under $1,000. What happened? Maybe I’d like to travel. Maybe my credit card balance is starting to scare me. Maybe no one cares what kind of range I have and I only cook a few times per week and so care less myself. Maybe I won’t even live here long-term. Originally, I’d tossed out five years as an arbitrary number. Could be two. Who’s to say? I may also end up as a lifer–my expenses are way low, it’s a good amount of space for one, and there aren’t a lot of stairs. Will I regret not investing in that Bluestar when I’m heating up canned soup at 75?