Dear Darling Ones,

Yesterday BFK walked into Supergenius HQ toting a giant, glittery-snowflake dappled bag with tissue paper peeping out of the top. I took one look at it and said, “If that’s for me I’m gonna be pissed.”

She grimaced at me as she dropped the bag at my feet. “You said you only want presents that make me think, Jodi needs to have that.”

I scowled and made huffy breath noises, because I did say that. I say that a lot, actually. I’m old and I own tons of crap. I don’t want people to feel obligated to buy me stuff for any of the gift-giving occasions. So I say, a lot, the thing about only wanting gifts that make people think of me. If I never get another gift again because people don’t think of me, that’s okay. I’ve gotten eighty-kabillon thoughtful gifts in my lifetime. Wheat pennies and used records and vintage dishes and signed books and just today Sister #4 sent me some Grover Bombas.

As BFK dove into her lunch I started to gingerly pull tissue paper from the bag, and then I folded it neatly.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said.
“Uh, yeah I do,” I said. “We’re not wasting this. I’m gonna fold all of it neatly, put it back into the bag, and you’re going to take it home so you can reuse it.”
She rolled her eyes at me.
“It’s my gift to you.”

Darling Ones, I did not get her a gift. I didn’t even think about it because from Thanksgiving up until yesterday I’ve been super depressed.

The first thing I pulled out of that bag was a small container of peanut butter blossom cookies. “These are my favorite!”
“Those aren’t part of the gift,” she said. “Those are just what was leftover from the cookies I made.”
“I don’t care,” I said. “They’re still my favorite.”

The next thing I pulled out of the bag was a gift so sweet and thoughtful I thought about crying, but didn’t.

“YOU GOT ME DONUTS?!”
BFK nodded.
“You saw donuts and thought of me?” I asked.
She nodded again.
“This is the best present ever,” I exclaimed.
She sighed. “That’s not even the real gift,” she said.

The real gift was a Funko Pop of Wonder Woman riding on Pegasus. She said she got it for me because Wonder Woman is an Amazon and Pegasus is from Greek Mythology and because I love Funko Pops. I told her that her gift logic passed muster and that I would accept this present. I didn’t say that. I thanked her profusely and told her I loved her.

I’ve been a little Ponyboy Curtis today with only two things on my mind, neither of which are Paul Newman or a ride home. My mind has been pre-occupied by the thoughtful donuts and the TV show “Succession.” I’m in love with this show. I’ve got like five more episodes of the third season and then I’ll be done with it. I’m kinda ready to be done with it because I spend all the time I’m not thinking about donuts thinking about the Roy siblings, Connor Roy specifically.

Connor is the oddball, not entirely in touch with reality eldest Roy sibling. He’s a half-sib, like me. And he’s played by Alan Ruck who also played my fictional soul twin Cameron Frye in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” And another thing about Connor? He likes donuts too.

Stay gold,
Jodi

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Hi Darling Ones,

Sometime this weekend I started reading Girls Like Us: Carole King, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon–And the Journey of a Generation by Sheila Weller. I’m kind of ambivalent about it thus far because I have read a lot about these three women and so there is not a lot of brand-new-to-me information.

There’s some new info, like Joni Mitchell’s first husband was kind of a dick and so was Gerry Goffin. I’m only about half way through and I suspect the gettin’s about to get good.

Yesterday while reading, I came across a passage that had me sitting bolt upright on the couch as my brain fizzed and made a pop cultural connection I didn’t expect.

Here’s the passage:
“‘Earth Angel’ was a breakthrough for us,” Barbara Grossman Karyo remembers, expressing a widespread feeling among girls about the song, which after various releases, became hit in 1955 and 1956. “Slow dancing to ‘Earth Angel’ was the beginning of our sexual awakening.”

I don’t know about you, but I have seen the movie “Back to the Future” about 834 times since its release in 1985. That’s probably a conservative estimate. I love me some Michael J. Fox. I once spent most of Christmas putting together a LEGO DeLorean. I have Doc & Marty Funko Pops. I might need an Enchantment Under the Sea Dance poster. The jury is still out on that one.

Also, I would argue the Back to the Future trilogy is the best trilogy Hollywood ever made. Before Sunrise/Sunset/Midnight is #2. Your hobbits and jedis and archaeologists and godfathers can go to hell. I said what I said.

When I was reading what Carole King’s teenage best friend said about “Earth Angel” being the beginning of their sexual awakening my mind immediately shot to the penultimate scene in “Back to the Future.” You know the one.

I would like to make a correlation between that scene, my adoration of Michael J. Fox, and my personal sexual awakening, but we all know that happened when I saw Matt Dillon in “The Outsiders.” So the soundtrack to my sexual awakening is probably C. Thomas Howell saying, “When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.” Nowhere near as cool as “Earth Angel.”

Do you think the makers of Back to the Future picked that song for that scene because of its sexual awakening powers? I did some cursory googling but got nothing. I didn’t try too hard because I have a stomachache and I need to get back to laying on the couch and moaning softly about it.

I’m gonna pretend the makers did know and chose the song on purpose because it makes me like “Back to the Future” an eensy bit more than I did before.

Great Scott!
Jodi

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Howdy Darling Ones,

I would just like to take a moment to appreciate the sudden popularity of the word audacity. People are using it all the time on twitter and TikTok and it pleases me greatly.

Frankly, I’m stunned I could find someone to please me greatly. I’ve been up since 5:40 A dot M when my brain was done with the sleep and I decided to fold and put away all the laundry. Then I read the rest of Leave the World Behind, a book I started yesterday. It is very good and fucking creepy as shit and the kind of writing that makes you think, How did he do that?.

Have you ever seen the show “The Good Place?” If not, you should remedy that right quick. It’s brilliant and funny. The character Chidi was a Professor of Moral Philosophy cursed with indecision. At one point he explains that the inside of his brain sounds like a garbage disposal with a fork stuck in it.

That is me right now.

I spend half of my interminable awake time chastising myself for not pushing past the exhaustion to be more productive, to write something thoughtful and coherent and the other half trying to be gentle with myself and coming up with an emotional snack plan for Tuesday.

Yes, I’m worried about having the right snacks on hand during Election Night. Will I want something sweet? Salty? Donuts? Pretzel Chips? Ice Cream? Cookies? Just to be safe I have all those things in the house right now, and yet the food insecure kid in me is all, but will there be enough? I’ve had to talk myself out of hitting the grocery store before the election about a million times.

I often try to joke about what a food hoarder I am, but then I never get past the sad reasons why to get to the joke. Growing up in poverty with food insecurity has turned me into an adult who stocks their pantry like nine people are going to descend on her house at any minute and demand all the food. I realize that having four 40oz jars of peanut butter in the pantry might be overkill, but also I ran out peanut butter one time and it was horrifying.

So yeah. I got a whole self care plan for Tuesday — snacks, fresh flannel sheets on the bed, a few friends on speed dial, and well, I guess, you.

Thanks, Darling Ones. I feel so fragile right now and I do not like it one bit.

Jodi

P.S. I found some old pictures of my childhood scrapbook while looking for something else. You’re welcome, because fucking Matt Dillion? AMEN! I mean Ponyboy Curtis was obviously my fictional crush and I will straight up makeout with anyone who can recite “Nothing Gold Can Stay” from memory, but when it came to the movie and physical attraction I was all Dally Winston all the time.

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