Parker spent the afternoon on my lap, because she has a strong canine instinct for when people need attention. It's Parker. Parker is people.

I checked the weather report, the only part of the news I can reliably handle these days, but it's supposed to snow more this week. So I'm pretty damn annoyed about that.

It's Passover Macaroons at the Grocery Store Season! Now that Starbucks has discontinued Chestnut Praline lattes, this is the most wonderful time of the year.

Is there anyway to infuse putting away laundry with ritual significance this Imbolv?

Dinner is spectacularly late at my house because I committed know of the classic blunders: I sat down.

I refuse to rewatch season 1 of Bridgerton to count the number of abandoned horses. Unless I discover a really good reason why I need the exact count, so if you happen to have such a thing, please know that counting the lost horses comes with mocking Simon's equitation.

Am I missing something? Because I do not understand what ICE would even be doing at the winter Olympics in ITALY. Italy is not a venue for the enforcement of US immigration law or trade policy.

I want to hold the conviction that I am an exciting person, but I did an experiment with knitting my socks slightly differently and it's rocking my world. Pretty sure no one cares, but a 70-row leg is an improvement.

I've reached the stage in my life where I'm not sure I envy Shane and Ilya's love as much as I envy Ilya's outgoing voicemail message. "This is Ilya. I will never listen to your voicemail." *swoon*

We're at the Asian grocery, doubting that our feeble Western sales resistance was built for this. We're getting two flavors of Kit Kats and will return after we consider our teapot budget.

For the first time since 2012, I have achieved something resembling a ponytail.

I know there are many complicated and evil reasons for the illegal invasion of Venezuela and I absolutely believe one of them was the administration being pissed that *Heated Rivalry* was getting so much attention from the internet.

Now that we have the MM romantic hockey show, could someone PLEASE do six to eight episodes of *Swordspoint*?

40% of my sexuality is Charlize Theron in action moves, with another 45% being Connor Storrie saying "Fuck Hollander" in a Russian accent.

So long as Jacob Tierney directs, I am excited for the crash.

Is anyone else seeing Augustine and Mercymorn here? This is the history behind "not the lava!" Mercy is the pinker bunny, and I am sure she is about to pronounce some exclamation points.

I am having a low-key Christmas day with only immediate family. We are hosting no one and going nowhere. I have baked nothing. I am distributing presents in the boxes they were shipped in. OMG, it's the BEST. Prob making coffee cake and jam later.

Merry Christmas, and, more importantly, a joyous countdown to the cottage for all who celebrate!

I need someone to start a dancewear brand for the middle aged. Something aimed at the recreational dancer whose motivations include not dying of cookies, or this being more fun and less expensive than physical therapy.

Today, the dogs lay down in protest at the sidewalk at the end of the block and refused to budge until I started to move in the populated and photogenic direction. More proof they have an Instagram I'm not involved in.

One thing I'm really enjoying about Heated Rivalry is participating in a fandom that people *understand*. I love what I love, and one thing I love is The Locked Tomb, which is an exercise in admitting my thing isn't everyone's cup of tea.

I mostly don't miss my old dishwasher (which broke), except for the 35 minute ultrafast cycle. Perfect for being flighty and spontaneous!

Settling in with hot chocolate and gay hockey show.

It looks like someone with my Amazon login and PIN (e.g., one of my offspring) bought the first season of West Wing. If this is the case, I expect a terrible weekend while they discover how politically naive it was once possible to be. Alternatively, the dogs bought it by chewing the Fire remote.

Ep 2 of Heated Rivalry. These boys are killing me.

I do it to confuse my children.

I am watching *Heated Rivalry* because of course I am. Two thirds of an episode in, I feel like maybe not enough has been said about Ilya's butt.

Just got off the phone with the Marine Corps. Again. If my kid showed up at a recruiting office, they'd reject her, but they probably wouldn't stop calling.

The great thing about making caramel for caramel lattes at home is no one involved in the caramel lattes is thinking about beverage profit margins.

I carefully worked out a way to practice the motherfucking promenade turns that are currently the bane of my existence and I just about instantaneously wrenched a calf muscle. If I was really hardcore, I would still practice the other side but I might be too old for that shit.

Some days I feel very strongly that I am only faking being a grown-up. Other days, I am very glad that I ma a Real Adult (tm) who decided to keep a plunger in every bathroom.

Things I have actually texted my offspring: "I lack the desire, will, or capacity to deny you kazoo choir."

Today in atheist miracles, I learned that my favorite play helped save my life.

The years of public-spirited masking during the pandemic made me forget how to deal with colds and now I am keeping pathetically about with what, if memory serves, is basically a sniffle. I resent this attack on my dignity.

Songs that honor Arlo Guthrie in that they are 17 or more verses long are banned by city ordinance in Westboro. IYKYK

I asked them to STOP me from making pineapple ice cream.

Other things to maybe not add to the chaos: hand-pulled noodles.

I attempted to assign the important Thanksgiving task of Preventing Me From Making Pineapple Ice Cream, but no one seems to take it very seriously.

Last week, the one guy in my ballet class was slightly bothered that I paired my leo with men's boxer briefs. I am thinking, in his honor, tonight it should be men's boxer briefs in hot pink.

I would really like to see the Arabian Dance from the Nutcracker choreographed around a character who is trying to get all the way to morning coffee while taking phone calls.

I have nothing to add that hasn't been said already, but I wanted to have also said GOOD about this.

I do not know why she is a sad Victorian orphan right now, I only know that she is.

Checking the weather because I ordered fancy ink because I forgot it was November...

Oh no, I sat on the couch and now there's a dog on my lap. Work will have to wait. This is important.

TFG has issued an order rescinding tariffs on (among other things) coffee and tea. I'm thrilled. Yay! Now do craft supplies! (I kid. They should do everything. The tariffs are wrong and bad and shitty and should all die.)

I was going to vacuum the couches, but...

Things that people do for each other are real miracles, and we should build our society to give people space to manifest them. Personal levitation or manifesting stigmata? Whatevs. Rhogam, though. However we support gifts like that, we should do it.

This seems like a great argument for universal basic income, and universal health and dental care. In a just universe, no teenager should need to hit Matt Gaetz up for money.

Some days, the keyword in "work from home" is definitely more home than work.