The air smells like fish or crotch, depending on who you ask. The popcorn trees sprung up overnight along with the higher temperatures. We’re back here, to melted coconut oil and melted Girl Scout cookies.
I realized that the only Girl Scout cookie worth talking about is the Tagalong. This was a turning point because for so long I dutifully bought my Samoas and my Thin Mints like society told me to.
This year I stuck it to the Girl Scouts and just bought Tagalongs.
It was the right decision.
I finally invested in a beach cooler, and even more importantly used it. I’ve owned it for months now, but never felt energetic enough to take off the tag and purchase the ice packs and do all the stuff.
This week I took off the tags and did the stuff. It made a difference.
When I moved here I had no beach supplies. No bag, no chair, no blanket. I had a few towels stolen from my parents’ laundry room and a swimsuit from Target circa 2005.
Today I have it all and then some. My blanket is from a flea market on Cape Cod. My cooler is shaped like a watermelon. My swimsuit is a pale pink bikini that T Swift would wear but I would claim to have worn first. I have my stuff and it fits me and I feel settled.
(PS: That post I linked to is from January 2013 and I mention my friend Rob and…ohmygoodness.)
I’m transferring my car to California.
This feels like a big deal. I’m saying goodbye to my Utah plates and doing the work and paying the money required to make myself a California resident.
I do need to vote this election, you know.
I have strong election feelings. Ask my friends during the debates.
My nails aren’t painted.
Well, they do have a coat of glitter over them but I barely count that. Did I do the glitter nails because I joined Apple Music just to watch the Taylor Swift 1989 tour and she had these nails?
That concert would not load for HOURS I tell you, and of course, once I decide I need something I cannot let it go and so for hours I refreshed and vented and went on forums to assure myself that others were going through the same torture as I was.
Speaking of forums.
Married at First Sight.
I’m still here. I’m still watching every week. Are you? If you are, will you please text me 300-600 thoughts per episode? I have a few friends who semi-regularly watch it, but I need you. I need someone who cares.
I knew it had gone too far when I found myself of MAFS forums. I’ve never actually commented on a forum of any kind, but I found myself desperately searching for spoilers and landing in a weird corner of the internet with people I swear I don’t relate to, but maybe relate to more than anyone. People who CARE.
Care enough to discuss in vivid detail possible sightings of so and so at the Atlanta Ikea.
I’m in love with Neil from MAFS.
Hilary says this is a good thing because Neil is Rob and I love Rob.
Hi Rob! We’re been dating longer now than we were friends. Isn’t that crazy?
This summer will be my FOURTH year going to Cape Cod with him.
This October will be my FIFTH birthday spent at Roscoe’s with him.
Where is time going? Why do I sound like a cliché old woman?
Neil from MAFS is much like Rob. He is exceptionally kind and patient. He’s quirky. He even looks vaguely like my Robert.
Sometimes I’ll bring up something to Rob and he’ll say, “Is this about Neil again?” and I say, “I can’t help it!”
I need share my 300-600 thoughts!
Save me from myself!
I read 16 books in January.
I went to yoga every Wednesday and Thursday.
I found a reading lamp that works for me.
My therapist is named Sasha. (No she isn’t.)
My life is coming together. I considered writing a post titled, “how to be a grownup” and starting with “find yourself a therapist” but then I stopped. Because it was sounding so hoo ha and hee ho.
How to be a grownup:
- Learn who you are.
- Take care of yourself.
It’s as hard as that.
I recently read an article that said being an adult isn’t hard. It actually said this, “There are lots of things that are challenging and heartbreaking and trying in life, but learning how to perform basic functions is not one of them.”
And while I really like this writer and really liked most of the article, I vehemently disagree with this statement. It is very hard and uncomfortable to go about the process of learning who you are and what you want and how to get there. It’s painful, at times. It requires stretching and growing and failing and starting over and over and over again. It requires friends who will go on late night trips to the suburbs when you’re feeling homesick and jobs that don’t suck your soul and lots and lots of hours walking.
It requires weekly trips to the store for produce and budgets and eating bags of frozen vegetables for lunch sometimes.
It requires standing up for yourself. Valuing kindness. Getting your moles checked.
It is hard and it is a process and I feel like I’m on the path finally.
Like somehow I wandered around in some bleak, dry, desert for years and years getting nowhere at all, delirious with exhaustion, and then, miracle of miracles, I stumbled onto the right path. The one that will take me to adulthood eventually.
It’s about time.