The Good Life

I. I got off to a fantastic start yesterday with a very early rising (5 a.m.). Did my Wordle. Had my coffee. Journaled and did a tarot draw. Slayed half the list by painting and editing. Did Zoom coffee with my muppet and then therapy and then another Zoom coffee with one of my kids, and then I lost the will to participate in the world as it is, popped an Edison Jolt, ordered in Fettucine Carbonara, crawled into the blanket fort and – you’re not going to believe this – watched three hours of Chris Cuomo’s testimony on YouTube.

Why did I do that last thing? I have no idea. I’m not even really all that interested in *waves at that whole Cuomo thing*.

Oh well. Whatever. Let’s blame it on the Edison Jolt, shall we?

II. I was going to start typing about how I didn’t really get all that much done, but you know what? I’m looking at the above list, which includes checking in with myself, doing some (really good) work, connecting with people I love, feeding myself, letting myself check out for a while, and that is actually A LOT. Also, this:

No lies detected.

III. It was a good mail day. I got this set of 56 Jelly Gouache, and while I did not have enough go-go juice left in the tank to peel off the lids and swatch the set, I am really excited about carving out some time to do that in the near future. Maybe this weekend.

I’ve watched a few YouTubes on the stuff and they look like they’re delightful to play with. I’m thinking they’d be amazing for pattern surface design since they are matte and will photograph well. They also feel like an antidote to deep winter. Just LOOK at all the colours!!!

Here’s one of the YouTube videos I watched.

If I get bored this weekend, I might hop onto a Facebook Live because friends don’t let friends peel 56 lids off tiny pots, and friends don’t let friends swatch alone, either. Maybe I’ll turn on the big girl camera so I can throw the video up on YouTube, too. I’ll let my list loves know if I do either. Are you subscribed to my list yet? No? Here you go. 

IV. I made myself a pot of rooibos vanilla tea yesterday and liked the way it looked on my painty table so I took a photo.

I like what this photo says about my ordinary reality. It might be ordinary to me, but I am absolutely swimming in good things. Art supplies. Good books. A creative practice. Delicious tea. BRAYERS. A massive handbound art journal. Space and time to play.

This photo represents abundance to me. This is what the good life looks like.

What represents abundance to you? What does YOUR good life look like?

P.S. My thoughts on “the good life” are informed in this moment by my participation in Isabel and Renee’s “Your Favourite Self“.

V. Day 63. I’ve lost ten pounds – not that I care about that except as proof that alcohol was bulking me up with empty calories. I’m eating three times (at least) more than I did before I quit and yet the pounds are melting off with zero effort on my part. Ok, then. I’ll take it. I’m about to dip down into the 170s, though, and I am an endomorphic 5′ 11” so I don’t really want to lose much more or I’ll have to turn in my Amazon Warrior card and I am rather possessive of that card, thank you very much.

P.S. I would *never, ever* spear a panther. 

VI. It’s Friday so the wine witch is all uppity. I have plans to shut her up with black seedless grapes, chocolate-covered almonds, and ginger-infused kombucha. Hey. Whatever works.

While I am not planning to remain alcohol-free for the rest of my life, I am really enjoying watching those numbers rack up, and every time I think to myself “Yanno? A glass of rose would be fab right now!” I find myself opting not to. There’s some fear that one or two glasses will swiftly lead to 8 and when I play that possibility forward on the screen of my mind, I have visions of myself feeling absolutely wretched the next day, full of bile and regret, and unhappy with my decision.

So far, that’s working.

I’ll take that, too.

VII. OH HEY FELLOW CARDSLINGERS! This tarot journal is luscious. I bought both the printable and the digital version, which I’m going to load it up into Goodnotes on my iPad and see if that helps me keep up with it. They have a “Writual Membership” which I’m “try-before-I-buy” ing. It looks good so far.

VIII. New Moon in Aquarius is coming up. I’m looking forward to calling in some shenanigans because that is what I need in my life right now and it’s going to take some innovative ways of looking at things to get that need met, because shenanigans are hard to come by in the time of COVID.

IX. Reunite* starts in earnest on Feb 2, so there. Shenanigans!!!! Which reminds me that it really is time to get my easel set up and ready if I’m going to do more than half-watch while I do my own thing. I suck at being in other people’s communities but I’m working on that because I *get a lot* out of being in other people’s communities. Especially the really nourishing ones like the ones that grow up around Flora Bowley’s offerings*. 

X. Therapy yesterday. We talked about how my relationship with anger has shifted, how it doesn’t get buried under piles of fawning until I reach my threshold and explode all over whoever has been pushing my buttons. How I’m owning it as righteous, which relieves a lot of pressure.

I’ve embraced my inner Sekhmet.

I’ll take that, too.

And you? How are you? How’s your heart?

*affiliate link. When you purchase products I recommend through links I mark with an asterisk (*), I make a commission, which helps me purchase more products to recommend and also keeps me in coffee, kombucha, paint, and black seedless grapes. Thank you! 

 

What I’m Watching, Wordle, What I’m Planning, Art Supplies, and Other Musings

I. I am absolutely loving season four of The Great Pottery Throwdown. It’s so wholesome and just what the doctor ordered. Here in Canada, I watch it on “Cottage Life”, which is an Apple TV add-on. I also binged season one of Relentless, which I watched on Discovery+. It’s a mindfuck of a documentary about an independent filmmaker’s search for a missing woman. Gripping! Also, The Gilded Age, by the creators of Downton Abbey, which just started this week. I’m watching it on Crave. I turned Renee onto it and she was immediately sucked in. I love watching series with Renee because she texts the best commentary.

All the streaming services I mentioned above are the ones I have access to in Canada. If you’re elsewhere, I’m sure Google will help.

What are you geeking out on lately?

II. Wordle is fun. I start every game with the word “adieu” so I get a sense of what vowels I might be working with. I like firing it up first thing with my coffee as a way to nudge my brain awake and firing on all cylinders. Today’s was pretty easy.

Wordle 222 4/6

⬛⬛⬛⬛🟨
⬛🟩🟩⬛⬛
⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

III. The news is heavy. More unmarked graves. Russia and Ukraine. A new variant – though that seems to be good news since there’s a theory that it’s more contagious but *less* dangerous, and if we keep getting variants that are contagious enough to take over its predecessor while being less severe, that’s a light at the end of the tunnel. I’m pretty sure we’re on our way to this becoming endemic.

BUT. The immunocompromised and those who can’t get vaccinated for medical reasons will still be super vulnerable so wear your damned mask and get your booster. I’m not liking the “everyone is going to get it” rhetoric because while it will probably not kill you, it could still kill whoever you give it to.

I know. I’m preaching to the choir.

IV. I have an art crush. Have you met Froyle Davis yet? She is *amazing*. I have never really been able to wrap my head around collage, but watching Froyle work fascinates me. She’s got a YouTube channel and a bunch of stuff up on Skillshare. She inspired me to get some wallpaper sample books (I got mine on Etsy) and order an inspiration pack from her. I still haven’t dug my Gelli plate out of storage but once I do, it’s game on.

LOOK! LOOK AT THIS!!!!!

*Drooooooooooooools*

V. Once winter is over and I can set us up on the front lawn with a folding table and some lawn chairs, my friend, Julie, is going to grab my other friend, Sal, and a stack of old Nat Geo’s and I’m going to get some Citrasolv and we’re going to have a Froyle Davis inspired collage party.

VI. I’m thinking about what I want to teach in my next weekend retreat. So far we’ve done Sweet Trash, Journal Jam, and Out Of The Shadows. I am thinking I’d like to do a lip-up girl immersion – one girl, created on a Friday evening to be scanned or photographed and used as a template, and then four projects – maybe earth, air, water, and fire inspired, over Saturday & Sunday. Yes? Lemme know in the comments.

VII. Arteza has a selection of opaque, matte “craft quality” fluid acrylics and they’re lovely. Perfect for art journaling because they’re super easy to write over + use coloured pencils over without having to fuss with clear gesso. I’m not an affiliate – just a fan – because when you’re just throwing paint around without a plan, and/or you want a matte finish that dries super quickly, these are fantastic.

I’m also loving the Decoart Dazzling Metallics and Decoart Americana paints that I bought three years ago and never used because I’ve always been a bit of a Golden/Liquitex snob.

I’m definitely getting over that these days, though, because craft paints are fun, and having some budget friendlier paints to suggest to students feels good.

VIII. I also tried the Golden SoFlat Matte paints and they were – well. Just okay. I tried mixing colours with them, and the experience was meh. They’re fine for pops of matte colour here and there, though. 

This mixing kit, though?

Yesssssssssss.

If you’re new to Golden fluid acrylics, and you want a taste, start with these.

They’re super mixable and these ten colours will set you up.

All the links in this exploration of art supplies lead to Amazon.ca but Google can help you if you’re not in Canada. xo

IX. Speaking of art supplies, here’s a PDF list of some of my favourites. 

X. And that’s me, today! No DRAMA DOTS because, lo, my life is currently drama free. HUZZAH!

Sneak peek at my lesson for February’s Book Of Days 2022 for tax. This spread features some of the Arteza craft paint, the Decoart Dazzling Metallics, and a bunch of Golden Fluids as well as some Liquitex Acrylic Ink. 

Drama Dots

I. After getting all of that out of my system, my body went through some stuff that felt like some kind of somatic release. First, I shook like a leaf for a while. Then, the shaking eased and I melted into a puddle of more relaxed than I’ve been in a long, long time. Then I got goosebumps and felt waves of contentment wash over me. I put together two pieces of flat-packed furniture (one more to go, and I’ll have a place to sit and eat or write or whatever one does while sitting at an actual table). I ate a massively stacked smoked meat sandwich on rye with coleslaw on the side. I had a slice of chocolate cake, a cuddle with the doggos, and then watched a few episodes of season 4 of The Great Pottery Throwdown. I slept beautifully. I woke up naturally, with no alarm necessary at the break of dawn (I love doing that!).

I woke up feeling clear.

II. A little while ago I signed up for a Moonology challenge (I’m a fan of Yasmin Boland’s way of working with the phases of the moon) and the challenge starts today. Turns out one of our first recommended activities is to clear the impact of the past on our present. Well, then! Perfect timing! Done and dusted, though today I will apply ritual action to the release as instructed because I love me some spicy psychology (aka witchcraft).

I like that kind of serendipity.

III. I’m really loving this new thing I do where I sign up for things and actually follow through with them. Especially right now when I’m chomping at the bit for any kind of movement forward. Any little thing I can engage and make progress on feels really good right now, so I’ve signed up for a bunch. A year of rituals with Christopher Penczak. Shadow work with Jane Cunningham. A bunch of Brighid-centered offerings from various teachers. Fierce Grace with Carrie Anne Moss. A folk magic immersion with Matthew Venus. I’ve dusted off some of the stuff that’s been sitting on my hard drive for years, too, and I’ve actually done a few lessons in Life Book already this year! I don’t know what happened, exactly, but that feeling like my wheels were spinning in the mud is gone and I’ve lurched (and cussed) my way out of stuckness and into action.

I like it.

Speaking of which…

IV. Yesterday, I did my intake interview with a primary care provider, so I no longer have to worry about who’s going to prescribe my asthma meds. It’s a neat little collective of nurse practitioners who can diagnose and prescribe and refer out to whatever kind of care you need, including dentists and eye doctors and physiotherapists. I love this, and I realize how lucky I am that I got this done so soon after moving here. It can take *years* but I have determined friends who will a) sit with me while I fill out paperwork (thanks, Renee!) and friends who will bring up my situation during their own visits with the nurse practitioner (thanks, Kimi!) and voila!

And in the same vein…

V. I’m ready for a rebrand for my little empire, but I’m not sure where to start so I’m just sort of sitting with it for a bit. I’ve been thinking about this for a few weeks now, and was reminded yesterday that there are people who do this kind of thing for a living, so I’m half-expecting the universe to plunk whoever it is that’s supposed to help me with this (because there’s someone. I can feel it!) right into my field of vision so we can get to work.

VI. I saw this on the Internets and now, I, too, will forever call ellipses “drama dots”. I love a good pregnant pause. Don’t you?

VII. I spent some time on Zoom with my sweet wee girl and we talked about neurodivergence and compared notes and I apologized for genetics and we laughed about it, but underneath that laughter was a palpable relief that comes with knowing that we’re not alone and we’re in this together. It brought home to me once more the fact that we can navigate anything in the right company.

One of my love languages is getting people and being gotten but there is something especially powerful in getting and being gotten by your own kid.

Speaking of kids…(DRAMA DOTS!)

VIII. The boys are all good and sorting out their stuff, and I’m proud of them and relieved, because they’re coming together as a little village to solve some of the issues that would have required a lot of time, labour, and money on my part, but now that they’re getting it sorted on their own, I can continue to do my own thing over here and drop in now and then as a cheerleader and a contented observer, and that makes me *ridiculously happy*.

IX. I have a new video podcast series. 

X. Today, I will fling paint, work on building some more flat-packed furniture (a high table and two chests of drawers on wheels for art supplies), stuff my face on chocolate-covered almonds and cheese and whatever else I want to eat, and I will do all of that alcohol-free, and that’s worth celebrating. *Clinks mugs with you*

 

 

Anger

Content warning: I’m angry. If anger scares you or upsets you, you might want to back away and come back another day.

I. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like I did in my last post, but I needed to spend some time with my own thoughts and feels about whatever the heck was going on with me in response to the sudden lack of boozy buffer. Boredom was *not* something I expected to experience in response to going clear, but that’s what came up. Boredom. An intense awareness of the “rinse, repeat” quality of this moment in time. A hankering for something – a craving, really. But not for wine. Not for any kind of altered state, actually, unless you can call “engaged” or “connected” an altered state.

II. It took a while, but here I am. Engaged. Connected. Into everything. Curious. Open. Awake. Alive. Alcohol-Free for 60 days, too, which feels like a bit of a minor miracle given *waves at all of this*, but here we are.

Here comes the anger in t-minus 3….2……1…..

III. A lot happened around and to me over the course of the last almost two years, and most of it was no bueno. I *did* manage to navigate it and I *have* gotten over most of it if by “gotten over it” we mean “I have raged and cried and grieved and pondered myself into a puddle of spent and also receptive goo”.

The thing I most grappled with was the idea that bad things happen to bad people and if bad things are happening to me, I must therefore be bad. This is not an uncommon bit of unconscious content, I know. I am not alone in grappling with this. Even though I am potently and poignantly aware of how the overculture conditions us to believe that we are, in fact, completely in control of what happens to us what with the way it pushes The Law of Attraction and the whole “thoughts become things” thing that gets shoved down our throats on the regular, my newfound sobriety uncovered a stinking pile of this conditioning hiding out in my deepest innards. I had, thankfully, disconnected from most of the purveyors of this kind of horseshit by the time I uncovered it within myself, but there were some holdovers. Some second-guessing. Some doubts about my choices. Some guilt about the INFJ door slam that I have been unashamedly employing thanks to an ever-increasing sense of self-loyalty.

IV. My therapist and I have talked about the same relationships for years. They came up in every session. It felt very much like my own personal soap opera. “This week on as Effy’s World Turns.” The one that did the very thing I asked her not to do and then kept doing it, but in secret. The one that made sure I knew about what was happening in secret because they got off on my upset over it. The one that took full advantage of my fawn trauma response and “The Bank of Effy” while talking shit about me to anyone who would listen. The one who would pick me up and then shelve me like I was some kind of doll. The one who enjoyed the lavish, devoted experience I offer my lovers, but did not offer much of anything in return except a wicked case of cognitive dissonance, broken promises, and words that did not align with actions. The one that told me my son was sick because KARMA – that I’d allowed him to be abused in a past life in order to keep a husband happy. The same one that told me that if I broke up with a guy that was causing me real harm, I was doomed to be in pain for the rest of my life because TWIN FLAMES. The same one who acted like she didn’t like me (or anyone else, frankly) very much, but kept me around because – why? I made her feel better about herself?

Who knows.

Humans baffle me.

And that’s just in the last two years.

And so, fuck them. Fuck all of them.

And since I know how humans work, and since I know very well that at least some of them are reading this:

May you be happy. May you be healed. May you be loved.

But far from me, you fucking dumpster fire.

Fuck you.

V. Do I sound like a victim?

Maybe I do, but I’m okay with that because while the overculture wants us all to shut up about it and put on our positive panties and accept that if these bad things happen to us it’s OUR FAULT and we are ENTIRELY TO BLAME and COMPLETELY IN CONTROL of everything that goes wrong while encouraging us to GUSH ABOUT HOW BLESSED AND GRATEFUL WE ARE when things go right, something inside of me – something that’s been sitting in weekly therapy for almost nine years now is ready to fight the overculture on that.

When did “victim” become a dirty word? When did we equate saying what happened to us with “playing the victim card”? When did pretending we’re untouchable, unflappable, indomitable, bulletproof, beyond being harmed become the requirement for being acceptable?

VI. I’ve been harmed, and the sole responsibility for healing that harm is on me, I know, but I am *pissed off* that so much of my psychic energy has to be spent in healing wounds that I *did not inflict upon myself*.

Y’all, I am in therapy *because of people who refuse to go to therapy*. I’m in therapy because of my encounters with those who will not touch their own unconscious content with a ten-foot pole, but instead, project it all onto the nearest available scapegoat, and how did I become the nearest available scapegoat?

I was raised to be one.

And I’m fucking angry over it.

And you know what?

It’s about fucking time.

VII. I live in a world where *waves at all of the above* is completely unacceptable. I am supposed to show up in the world with a smile and a twinkle in my eye and paint under my nails and delight and joy and inspiration and gratitude. I am supposed to take the hits as they keep on coming and assert that it’s all okay because “HURT PEOPLE HURT PEOPLE” with a forgiving, tender smile on my unphased face. I’m supposed to forgive. I’m supposed to keep my dirty laundry to myself and I’m supposed to be professional and polished and I’m supposed to whitewash everything and I’m supposed to make sure that I do not get my stuff all over everybody else *at all costs* including my own survival.

Right? I mean, isn’t that what we’re told to do? Isn’t that what’s modeled for us? Don’t we get labeled “too much” if we do otherwise?

I mean, for fuck sakes, even the Dalai Lama is out there telling everyone that anger is poison, and when a very wise council of humans suggested to him that this might be a spiritual bypass (because it *was* a spiritual bypass) he didn’t address it. He just left his toxic positivity hang out there for all to see without any accountability to anyone for how poisonous *repressed & denied* anger is when expressed anger is actually *healthy and human and necessary*.

VIII. One of the people I mentioned above told me that I was scary because I get angry, and it was at that point in our relationship that I should have ended it, because I *do* get angry. I get angry when I’m lied to. I get angry when I am betrayed. I get angry about injustice, betrayal, disloyalty, passive aggression, malice, other people’s projections, and other forms of fuckery. And I have learned to say “I’m angry”. I’ve learned to say “Don’t do that to me.” or “This is my boundary” or “What you are offering me in this moment is not what I need.” and the people who can’t handle that, who think that makes me “scary” or “too much” are, frankly, not enough for me.

I wish those people all the luck in finding someone who is less.

Because I’m not it.

I’m all of me.

Angry me included.

IX. And it’s not like I get angry over stupid shit, because I don’t. In fact, it’s been brought to my attention by qualified professionals that I don’t get angry *enough*. I have to go through a lot of inner work before the anger even begins to arise. I have to sift and sort and tell the story to a willing, objective ear over and over again for a long time, to get the experience witnessed by someone who can be *angry on my behalf* before I can even begin to access my own anger.

So if I’ve told you I’m angry?

You can bet I worked to get there, and that I value you enough to tell you, and that it comes at an enormous personal energetic cost to me to tell you in the first place, so if you reject me or criticize me for being angry? If my anger is too much for you? If your response to my anger is to talk shit about me or abandon me?

Fuck you.

And if I’ve slammed the door on our relationship, it’s because I told you until I was blue in the face what I needed from you and what my boundaries were and you didn’t listen or didn’t care, so again.

Fuck you.

X. Sixty days today, and I’m fucking angry, and I am glorying in it because I have every reason and right to be angry, and my rage, which hid out under a blanket of booze for a decade, has risen up. It is here. It is honest. It is holy, and if you can’t sit with me in my anger, you don’t fucking deserve me.

Photo of a very angry kitteh for tax.

 

 

 

 

 

Journal52 + A Very Boring Ten Things

I. I’ve been frustrated by the pandemic. Coming out of the fog of too much wine for so long means I am coming into awareness of the feelings that lurked beneath that fog, and one of them is frustration. I’ve got stuff I want to do, and *waves at all of this* is standing in my way.

II. This would be less frustrating if I were in control of it, but I’m not. I did all the things – isolated, masked up, double vaxxed, looking for a booster (they are pretty hard to book at the moment for obvious reasons), and yet here we are back in lockdown in Ontario. I am hoping Omicron is going to lead us to herd immunity and this will soon be over-ish. We’ll still have to live with COVID but it will be endemic and less threatening. This is the hope. *Fingers Crossed*

Bring it on and so it is. 

III. I’m grateful for my work because there is always something to draw me out of the ennui and existential angst that this life of “rinse and repeat” is bringing on. As long as I can bring whatever it is I’m experiencing in the moment into my creative practice, I feel like I can deal with it. It may not necessarily solve anything to express it but at least it means it isn’t taking up quite so much room in my body and mind.

IV. I do feel, though, like my world has shrunk. The usual experiences that fill me up (fests, mostly, and live music) have been lacking for me since late 2019. That’s a long time to go without soul food. Those kinds of experiences add something to the well I draw from as a journal artist, and I’ve had to depend solely on my very tiny world – mostly on my inner life – to fill that well. It’s made my creative practice a little less inspired. I’m not going to lie. So, I’ve marched my butt into the classes I have stored on my hard drive so I can add new experiences, techniques, imagery, etc. even though I’m pretty much stuck in the house.

I started Life Book 2022 this past week. Here’s where I’m at with that so far:

Week One – Soul Glow warm up with Tamara Laporte

Week One – Shine Your Light with Tamara Laporte – This one isn’t quite finished yet. I’m going to do a few things to it today, I think.

V. I’m reading again as well, though, and I’m not talking about audiobooks, either. They’re a perfectly valid way to read, and I leaned hard on them over the last few years as a way to lull myself to sleep, but lately I’ve been *so bored* of the “rinse repeat” I mentioned above that I’ve added some titles to my Kindle library and I’m reading throughout the day. “Cat Magic” by Whitley Striber is my current distraction. It’s a book I read way back in the 90’s that I absolutely loved. It’s been fun revisiting it. I don’t know where I’ll go after that’s done with but I have a few titles queued up. I’ll keep you posted.

VI. I’ve been knitting, too. Still working on that shawl I cast on the day I quit drinking and it’s coming along beautifully. It’s going to be the perfect reading shawl once I’m done with it. It’s on big enough needles (size 6) that it doesn’t bug my eyes and I’m just doing a straight purl row one knit row two to keep it easy to work on while I’m watching something mindless on the telly. This and a lot of organic kombuchu (ginger flavoured – mmmmmmmmm) and dark chocolate have been saving my bacon.

VII. SO BORED THOUGH OMG I’M READY FOR THE NEXT ADVENTURE.

VIII. Speaking of which, I have another level one pottery class scheduled for four weeks beginning Jan 18th, but I don’t know what’s going to happen with that given the current surge. SEE WHAT I MEAN BY FRUSTRATING? I have the feeling I’m going to come out of this thing with a serious case of wanderlust and the will to do something about it. Like get my passport. And maybe a car.

FREEEEEEEDOM!

IX. Argh. *lol*

X. Okay, I’m done rambling. I’ve got Journal52 up for you. Click here to grab the file on Dropbox. We’re talking creativity this week.

GRAB THE FILE ON DROPBOX

 

The Universe And Cucumbers And Me

I. The universe cracks me up.

II. I was on Zoom with my beloved Tam the other day and we were talking about how we both keep forgetting that the trick to getting our guides, spirits, and holy helpers to – yanno – help is to actually *ask them* for help. We were *cracking up* over this because we both really suck at the whole “OH HEY COULD I GET SOME HELP HERE” thing both in the realm of delegating to those in our lives who could help and in also with regards to help that might be available in the spiritual realms.

III. Which is weird because I teach a year-long class (coupon code covenup) in how to engage with The Powers – however you might define them – in the development of a creative spiritual practice that includes raising energy toward the attainment of your desires.

And, look, I *do* the work, but I usually ask for help with things like “Make me stronger/wiser/more useful” rather than “OH HEY COULD I GET SOME HELP WITH MY C-PTSD? COULD I GET A BREAK FROM THE TRAUMAS THAT KEEP PILING UP? COULD I GET SOME PROTECTION AGAINST *WAVES AT ALL THE THINGS*? COULD I HAVE MY DENTIST/DOCTOR/FILLINGOUTFORMS PHOBIA REMOVED?”

IV. So, anyway. A few days ago I was craving cucumber sammiches. Delicious thinly sliced, lightly salted organic English cukes with fluffy dill infused whipped cream cheese on soft tiny triangles of bread with the crusts cut off, served on a beautiful plate. So I put in a grocery order for everything I needed in order to fulfill this craving, because I am badass at self-care.

V. The grocery delivery arrived, and guess what? No cucumbers. All the rest, but no cucumbers. And of course, I was too busy dealing with a dog who has regressed to peeing on my bed because she has separation anxiety now that I’m leaving the house more often + an intense trauma response to a couple of things that happened, one right after the other, plus the vestiges of a wicked case of vertigo so I didn’t bother tracking the order so I could make substitutions if requested. To be honest, though, the shopper didn’t even try. They just refunded me for the cukes.

All I wanted was a fucking cucumber sammich, which in that moment represented *something going right for once*.

VI. I want to preface what I’m about to say with this so that you do not worry unduly: I truly am going to be okay, but I have not been in a great headspace for a while now, and I am super reactive to even the least little thing.

So. The missing cucumbers? They made me cry. And *pray*.

Yes, you heard me right. I cried. And prayed.

It sounded a little like this:

“UNIVERSE FOR FUCK SAKE COULD I GET SOME GODDAMNED CUCUMBERS? HOW HARD IS IT TO PROVIDE CUCUMBERS! IT IS NOT A LOT TO ASK! SERIOUSLY! WTF?”

I was *frustrated* It’s been quite a decade, okay? Give me a break.

VII. So, anyway.

Last night while I was cleaning out my fridge (garbage day in these parts, so the fridge got cleaned – how adulty! GOLD STAR!) and I noticed the soft bread and the container of whipped cream cheese and I said “I’MMA ORDER SOME G_D CUCUMBERS RIGHT NOW. UNIVERSE? ARE YOU LISTENING? BRING ME CUCUMBERS!”

I believe I even raised my fist to the heavens. I was not fucking around.

VIII. This is what was delivered this afternoon:

A pile of English cucumbers numbering six

IX. I am amused.

X. In other news, Book Of Days 2022 opened for registration today.

I hope to see you in there.

And on that note, I’m going to go make myself a G_D CUCUMBER SAMMICH!

xo
Effy

P.S. If you love my writing, please share it on your socials? I appreciate you. xo