No Rhyme or Reason 10/13

For reasons I can’t pinpoint, not really sentimental attachment, I keep a handful of 1940s-60s vintage dresses and skirt suits in the back of my closet even though I haven’t worn that type of clothing since the ‘90s. I refuse to go full Kondo, but my wardrobe could use some paring down so I started trying on these old musty dresses and I was shocked to discover that they all still fit. I guess I’ve hovered around a 14 (with a brief dip to 12 and 18, and long stretches at 16) for two decades and that’s just me and only radical life changes would disrupt that. I’m also pretty sure I wore my clothing too baggy in the ‘90s, so these dresses are now fitted when once they were roomier. No photos because who cares?

I can’t remember where I picked it up, possibly an old housemate of my sister’s in the early ’90s, but am I the only one who blows 12 kisses when you see a clock reading 12:12 and need to get them in before it switches to 12:13? I don’t even remember the point (attracting true love?) and I don’t make big gestures, especially in public, but more tap my open hand to my lips. This is not an OCD thing like where you have to check the lock a certain number of times or have crazy thoughts and need to lick the ground…or, jesus, is it? I only started thinking how weird this is this year because I’ve been doing it more. I assumed this was an old wive’s tale sort of superstition but I don’t even see any references online, so I’m nuts.

I continue to love Dolly and Em even though it’s not perfect and can be a little clunky and I preferred last season’s LA setting to the current NYC milieu. I started to take a still two episodes ago when Dolly appeared to be lovesick literally after getting off with Ewan McGregor in a Brooklyn bar bathroom that may or may not have been filmed at Prime Meats. She then starts obsessing and texting inappropriately. That plus the quickie both being behavior I never get to see from 40something women on TV. But without flat out spoiling (even though I am) I suspected the lovesick barfing was not emotionally induced. And this week’s episode bears that out, veering into another of my favorite middle-aged plotlines.

I accidentally caught 75% of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend’s premiere last night and despite kind of turned off by the title and never watching anything on the CW, it’s surprisingly funny, especially since it turned out to be kind of musical theater. It’s also a total stalker show, the premise being that a successful young NYC lawyer moves unbidden to a crappy LA suburb to follow the guy she had a crush on in high school. Somehow it works.

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