old, and not hip

I’ve developed the bad habit of watching stupid little “styling” reels on FB, very few of which are any good at all. This last one was “what I thrifted vs how I styled it” – literally a shot each of the dress, jewelry, handbag & boots, which she then…put on. There was no ‘styling’. Why do I do this. I mean, in this particular case, it was actually a good look. She’d made good choices. But I think ‘styling’ is a wild overstatement for what she was doing. I was…

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inspiration has terrible timing

I was very tired last night, and had a HUGE amount to do today, so went to bed at a very sensible hour, ~10:30pm. I then utterly failed to sleep for 90+ minutes. Shortly after midnight, having tossed and turned and gotten up to pee and to make sure my son had done his Pokemon for the day so he wouldn’t lose the 20 day streak he was aiming for for a task, I finally thought I was comfortable and worn out enough to sleep. And the first line of…

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A Melodrama In Sligo

The scene: I am arriving back in Sligo after a couple of days in Dublin. The setting: Sligo Train Station The performers: Myself; my father; a random older woman sitting next to Dad in the train station as he awaits me Dad, rising from his seat, hands extended to capture mine: Catie, Catie, *Catie*! Oh, my darling! Let me *look* at you! Oh, *honey*! Let me look at you, let me look at you! Me, embracing him: Oh, *Daddy*! Dad: It’s been so long! My darling girl! Older woman: -happy…

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a silly dream :)

I did not sleep well, presumably due to stress, but there was a good dream interval there where I was on the SNW Enterprise and Ortegas had for some reason gotten hold of a manual typewriter and was in absolute hysterics over its ancient, single-purpose functionality. I was like “ooh ooh I know how to type on that!” and we typed back and forth at each other a little (“HI ORTEGAS THIS IS ME”) before she got the bright idea to launch the carriage like a torpedo and aimed it…

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Adventures in glasses-wearing

So a little bit ago my dad, who is notorious for leaving his glasses lying around, was looking for them. We looked in the kitchen. We looked in the library, and I checked the bathroom while he went up to check his room. Then I went into the living room and called, “I found your glasses, Dad!” And I HAD found them. On MY FACE. *MY* glasses were lying on the coffee table, because I, too, have developed a terrible habit of leaving my glasses lying around (only since my…

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