A Passing Thought

So here's a thing you don't hear often:

Yesterday, I nearly started a kitchen fire with my face mask. 

The pot of water in which I was sanitizing my most comfortable mask boiled dry before I noticed, since I couldn’t hear a thing over the noise of my fans... but even if my ears weren’t working, my nose saved me.

Scorched remains and ruined pan
click if you want a close-up you can practically smell...

So today, I came home and started whipping up a replacement mask (they’re not all as cool as that one and right now, the weather demands cool) and had another close call with disaster when the iron tipped over onto the counter and I realized, from quite a few feet away, that I hadn’t actually turned it off. (I’d been waiting until I finished the pleats.) Three or four spectacular leaps later, my counter top was saved.

No photo available.

I’m starting to think that face masks in my house maybe don’t qualify as “safety equipment”…

I'm considering chalking it up to distraction, however.

Because after all, this finally happened:

Sex may be AWOL for the foreseeable future,
but I have, by God, gotten ice cream!

Year of Wonders, ARB-style

2020 really seems to have it in for us, doesn’t it?

You’d think a global pandemic that is killing millions would be enough crisis for one year but no, we’ve also got bushfires, floods, earthquakes, tornados, and plagues of flippin' locusts!
Not to mention social upheaval and political trauma during a very divisive election year here.

side note to the archaeologists in Egypt:

But it’s not just the big picture items that are being affected… 

       because The Weird is trickling down into all aspects of life.

Covid-19 has pretty much single-handedly brought my sex life to its knees. 

Yes, all right, fine, most of my sex life generally takes place with me on my knees anyhow… but that’s not what I’m talking about here, ok?

You can’t drive anywhere with friends anymore, so we all have to take separate cars and FaceTime each other from our dashboards.

My book club has disbanded, so for the first time in 7 years, I am reading nothing but exactly and only What I Want To. Granted, that part’s not all bad, but there’s also nobody to talk about “that hysterical scene” with either, and I miss that - and them.

The good news is that I can get a massage again...

As long as I don’t mind laying there, nekkid as a jaybird except for a mask.

       (Which I don’t, because Masks for the Win, m’k?) 

But still, it feels peculiar, even for a kinky chick.

I've only gone out for ice cream once this summer. 

       *grumble, grumble*

The resultant dairy-deficiency left me vulnerable to persuasion and in moment of frailty, I ate some chocolate hummus... and even dipped twice. (Quick, someone take my temperature!)

The ungodly summer hours are still taking a toll on me. Mornings used to be when I did most of my blog reading but now I rarely turn on my computer before 8 at night, so I am woefully behind in my bloggy reading, much less (hahahahaha!) writing.

The ultimate indignity however, is the fact that The Stress Of It All is wreaking havoc on my acid reflux, which in turn has made it (temporarily!) necessary for me to... Give Up Coffee!!!!!

via Gfycat

I'd say, "What next?", but I don't want to give the universe any ideas!

A Slip of the Snips

You may recall that when last we spoke of my brush-chopping progress, I had hauled away over 400 pounds of the stuff. Well, it’s two months later and… you need to triple that. 

Yep - I have been on a rampage. 

Mind you, the yard is nowhere near denuded but people are definitely noticing that “you’ve cleared out a lot!”  Why, yes. Yes, I have. 

Wild roses?

*snip!* 

Brambles? 

*snip!* 

Russian olive?

*snip!*  

Chokecherry?

*snip!* 

Wild grapes?

*shit!* 

I don’t think I whoopsie’d enough to actually derail up my autumn jelly-making plans but watching those gorgeous green clusters of future goodness spill to the ground amid a tangle of rose and olive shards was a very disappointing moment, nonetheless.

Step Away From the Shears, Jz…

Vexation

I’m having trouble matching my mood to a Spock meme this Sunday, because, frankly? 

This:

Isn’t working for me after the week I had.

I considered this:

But right now, stupid's not even the problem.

Work is simply way too short-handed, over-worked, micro-managed, and heat-stressed for any kind of Zen-like approach.

No... this week, you get emotion.
Lots and lots of emotion...

This week, it's Team Vexed for the win.