Throughout the day on Sundays, while I narrate my boring day to myself, I often think you should do something. Mostly I mean something other than what I am doing. Something outside of the house or exciting or you know, anything. But then I get involved in whatever it is I want to be doing and forget about doing something that would be exciting to read about.
Next week, though, hold on to your hats! I’m actually doing something on Saturday (bookclub) and Sunday (Kurtis’ book launch at Red Balloon).
But today, today has been kind of delightful even though there’s a headache dancing around the edges of my brain and my throat is still achey. Yesterday, the crud that was stuffing up my sinuses last week landed in my throat. It hasn’t been wholly awful and I’d take the achey-throated rundownedness over that fucking headache any day of the week.
I kicked off this morning with some powdered-sugar donut holes and listening to Bill DeVille’s interview with Bonnie Raitt (which is really, really good). That set the mood for a couple of book reviews. I was really up in my rock & roll righteous indignation back-to-backing The Queens of Noise and Between a Rock and a Heart Place.
After I grew bored with the reviews, I spent some time reading the Internet. I read a lot of Internet on Sundays and never keep track of what I’m reading. Today, I tried to do that. So here’s what I read:
- What Happens When a 13-Year-Old 4Chan Cam Girl Grows Up?
- How science writer DNLee was called a whore for not wanting to write for free & how Scientific American pulled her reaction post because it wasn’t science enough. And, of course, their response.
- Open Letter to the Pocahotties: The annotated version.
- What Men Talk About When They Talk About Mary Gaitskill (off topic aside: we need to be done with the ‘What X talks about when they talk about Y” headline construction. DONE. It’s over. Stop it. [and yes, I have used that construction before too. Guilty])
Right about the time I finished typing out that list, the doorbell bing-bonged and after a few moments of panic. I went to see who it was, but nobody was there. I don’t often answer the door to unexpected visitors. I did once and then was plagued for like a week by some fuckface selling DSL and Dish network. Plus, back when I still lived in Prior Lake I opened the door to my scuzzy cousin Keith and that was such a mistake that I had to move. I used to feel bad about the whole not answering the door, as though I owed people I didn’t know who knocked on my door the courtesy of an answer, but Sister #2 was all “fuck that noise, it’s your house.”
After the bing bong incident, I set to making dinner. Family Dinner was cancelled on account of Sister #2 having something to do. I was a little bummed because I really count on Family Dinner for getting me out of the house and speaking to actual humans. Left to my own devices I spend all my time in pajamas talking to myself and Paco. Like, you know, today. But I did get in a solid 3 o’clock nap and some crochet time on the couch with “My So-Called Life.”
In fact, as I type, I’m still knee-deep in the 90s-angst. I love this show even though I didn’t see it for the first time until way, way, after it aired. I was in college when it was on actual TV and remember my friend Kari saying how much I’d love it.
Right now it’s the Juliana Hatfield Christmas episode, which I love almost as much as the one where Jordan “Rat Bastard” Catalano finally holds Angela’s hand. I am not team-Jordan. I never really was. The older I get the less I like Jordan. Also, the older I get the more I like Sharon — she’s really a sex positive anti-slut-shaming role model. I dig that.
Also, Angela Chase’s hair is the Platonic ideal of hair in my mind. Cut, color, shine, smoothness, all of it. I had that hair once in like 1995. I miss it. Still.
Oh, yeah, I was going to talk about my delicious dinner. Since I’m suffering from germs, I made soup yesterday. My favorite of all the soups, Pasta e Fagioli. I love this soup and added a bit more red pepper flakes to melt all the germs taking residence in my face. I also made a grilled cheese sandwich to go with the soup. It was aces. I’m not a really good grilled cheese (which I still call girl cheese in my head and probably always will, because that’s what my sisters & I called it when we were kids) maker. I’m too impatient or inattentive and usually end up managing to burn the sandwich while keeping the cheese in the middle totally unmelted. It’s the opposite of a gift. But tonight, I busted out some thick ol’ Texas toast and some Velveeta and didn’t mess around. It was, in a word, divine. While eating my dinner I decided the next time I try to woo someone, I am going to make this soup. So beware eligible bachelors who may be invited over to my house at some point, if this soup’s on the menu so are you. Or something cheesy and predatory like that.
The “It’s (Insert Day of Week) and I’m Boring” is a series that Christa and I do to pay homage to the beauty of old-school blogging. (I totally copied this nice explanation from Christa).