gentle january

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I read the post Gentle January on Joy the Baker and it really spoke to what I feel like I need this January. In Michigan, Januaries (and Februaries and Marches and sometimes Aprils) are hard. We gain back almost an hour of daylight this month, but the weather is at its grim best. The wind bites, the trees shiver under an endless slate-grey sky, and the sun doesn’t appear for days. Or weeks.

And everywhere, the holidays are over. There seems to be nothing to look forward to and everything that I put off in December has now come home to roost. What is cozy and hygge in early December, in the glow of candles and lights and presents and piles of good eats, is merely bleak midwinter in January.

All too often I’ve gotten up on January 1 and brutally forced myself to confront the real world, but one that is more harsh and full of deprivation that my typical ‘real world’. I go on a diet, I go on a budget, I set new work goals and exercise goals and then wonder why I spend January vacillating between grumpiness and despair.

This year, even before I knew about the concept of gentle January, I was organically embracing it. The truth is that I’m sick of lashing myself with a whip of self-directed “I really shoulds” and “I really need tos”. I would say I’m too old for that but that’s a thought that seems to go along more with my old self. Instead, maybe I’m just now at a point where I’m ready to meet myself where I am and be accepting, rather than self-critical.

Yes, I’m trying to get more movement but not only because of the number on the scale. It gives me joy and helps my mental health exponentially. I’m leaning into supportive and motivational online communities and using it as a time to be mindful and reflective. Yes, I’m back to work, and I’d absolutely prefer to be done with corporate life – but I long ago reconciled myself to the necessity of it and I try to enjoy the process and the people, and have gratitude for what it gives me. Yes, I am being more conscious of what I put into my body but I can do it in a way that feels rewarding and nurturing rather than restrictive and punitive.

We greeted this season as many do, by decluttering the holiday fluff. We took the Christmas stuff down and while we were at it, we “audited” all of our holiday decorations, garlands, lights and wreaths. We streamlined the number of bins and now we have a big pile for donations. This was a great idea that I got from Benita Larsson and her Scandi-enjoyable vlog. And the process gave Brandon major joy since he is the self proclaimed reincarnation of an English butler.

I’m embracing early bedtimes and hot tea. When I feel down in the mornings, I turn on my “happy lamp” for awhile and experience a perceptible pick-up. I’m experimenting with new recipes and mocktails. I’m using that feeling of wistfulness when the early darkness comes on as an excuse to get out for an eleven minute walk. Then I come home and take a hot bath with some scented Epsom salts and slather on a good thick lotion. Sometimes my walks are longer (like when I want to check out the offerings in one of the multiple Little Free Libraries in my area) and sometimes I do them at lunch, if there’s a chance I can get a glimpse of sunshine. (On those days, I always see other sun-seekers out, too. I never realized how many walkers there are in my neighborhood during the day. And when there’s sun, there are always a few of us paused along our routes with our faces lifted up to catch the light, eyes closed in full enjoyment.) Sometimes I can even convince a reluctant teen to come with me and share a bit of what she is thinking about lately.

The cold weather has also allowed me to develop a minor obsession with merino wool. I’ve known about merino wool for a long time, being a knitter, but I had no idea what a luxurious splurgy yet totally practical joy merino wool is in garments. IT’S NOT ITCHY! I am collecting it gradually and breaking my bank on it but hopeful that the pieces I’m acquiring – a headband, a neck gaiter, leggings, base layers for running, and of course socks – will serve me for years to come. I’d love to get a dress someday although I am very leery about ordering it online because my figure would definitely require try-ons. I do, however, love reading the challenges that people do where they pick a piece and wear it for 30 or 100 days (I love a good capsule wardrobe and checking out other people’s styles).

Hopefully you are all finding ways to show love to yourself too, and be gentle in January at the start of 2024.

2023 reads

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I haven’t kept up with regular book posts throughout the year so instead I offer a quick summary of my 2023 reading. I read 65 books, falling pretty short of previous years, but I don’t have any “worst of” to list because if I don’t like a book I simply won’t finish it. (Life is short.) I think my lower total is indicative of starting and abandoning several selections that just didn’t do it for me. I will, however, say that I read some pretty dubious stuff while down with Covid because my attention span just wouldn’t let me focus on much else so who knows how it all evened out.

Robert Galbraith (aka JK Rowling) again captures a top spot with The Running Grave, the latest in the Cormoran Strike saga. I don’t particularly like Rowling and don’t agree with her public statements about the trans community and think she should have just kept her mouth shut since other people’s choices in that area don’t have anything to do with her, but for some reason I can’t hold Strike accountable for her bigotry. This one wasn’t quite as engrossing for me as last year’s Ink Black Heart but still quite good.

Top honors also go to Natasha Pulley’s Watchmaker of Filigree Street trilogy, which I found absolutely beautiful and which brought me to tears several times.

I gave Nona the Ninth high marks as well. This is the latest of the sci-fi goth mindbender series that is Tamsin Muir‘s Locked Tomb series. Holy smokes it’s good.

I also loved Circe by Madeline Miller and Clytemnestra by Costanza Casati gets an honorable mention.

2024 is starting out for me with the Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo. It has a sexy premise of occult Yale secret societies so we’ll see if it holds up! I look forward to seeing what my bookish friends get into in 2024 and as always, I love recommendations and would love more friends over on Goodreads (link in my sidebar). Happy 2024 reading!

the last one of 2023

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I’ve been off since the 22nd and while I really appreciate a nice, long break, I’m glad that the New Year is here and things can get back to normal(ish). I didn’t have any goals for the break except to spend time with my family and my best friend, to sleep and eat and run and read, and meditate, and knit, and I did all of those things except not as much knitting as I’d have liked. We celebrated Brandon’s birthday on Christmas, with pastries from the new bakery in town, Cannelle, and back-to-back viewings of ‘A Christmas Carol’ (the 1980’s version with George C. Scott, which is my favorite) and ‘Scrooge’ (the 1970’s musical with Albert Finney, which is Brandon’s favorite). We love them each for very different reasons. I finished my last couple of books for 2023 (‘The Running Grave’ by Robert Galbraith and the last two of Naomi Novik’s ‘Scholomance’ trilogy), I watched ‘Serpent Queen’ on Starz and that spiraled me into a Tudor binge watch that hasn’t quite run it’s course yet. I ran several days, but not as many as I’d have liked.

I had a great meet-up with my lifelong bestie yesterday, which was deeply needed. I am a true introvert so getting out of the house first thing in the morning made me horribly grumpy, especially with Sarge (my big cat) curled up more or less on top of me, nestled in the duvet and begging me to stay put. But my friend Kat and her husband are a tonic, with tales of their big old house and big families and shared bird-watching and crafting excitements.

Brandon went to North Carolina for a couple of days to visit his parents, and I had some fantastic time with my daughter. She’s been meeting friends at the gym / rec center every day to work out and I’ve been driving her and we sing Taylor Swift and then eat together and she disappears into her room to FaceTime and read and do her teenage things and I turn on some anglophile viewing and settle down with a cat and some Chianti.

Today is the last of 2023. I slept in to strange dreams of my coworkers, their kids and grief and switching watches with them, one of them dressed as a beautiful toy soldier with her hair curling over her shoulders, to the accompaniment of a man in a grocery store singing ‘Sundown’ by Gordon Lightfoot on a grand piano. I have to pick Brandon up at the airport this evening and I have a bounty of Italian goodies from Cantoro’s Italian Market for our dinner. The kid will make an appearance to eat her tiramisu and help Brandon pop the cork on our favorite low-budget champagne (‘not champagne sparkling wine since it doesn’t come from the Champagne region of FRANCE’) – Cook’s, $13 Spumante. And we’ll probably fall asleep well before 12 and wake up tomorrow to the biggest Sunday scaries of the year on a Monday, strip the house of the lights and bows and baubles and boughs, and we’ll start 2024.

Happy New Year to any of you who still read this weird little space. See you in 2024.

this is pretty much the most snow we’ve had in december this year and it quickly vanished

seasonal greetings

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some seasonal highlights

If I make any NY resolutions this year, more regular blogging and manicures will both make the list. I hope you’re enjoying your holiday season – depending on where you are, the dark season of short days, the hygge season, that weird time between Thanksgiving and the December holidays.

Brandon is home now for the remainder of 2023. He has been splitting his time between work weeks in Iowa and weekends back home, and the travel is pretty tiring for him. It’s hard for me to have him away, but I really try to just be supportive and love the time together. I think the biggest challenge for me is getting through a long week and having the weekend and Brandon arrive and being just drained of energy- he wants to connect and immerse himself in our relationship and family and I just want to be alone and still. But we have been together for six and a half years now and we understand what recharges each of us – and how those things are different- and make allowances.

And in the time he’s away, I’ve been trying to maximize time with my daughter. We go to the gym, get Panera for dinner, and watch trashy television in my bed. She is fifteen now and I know that these moments are going to become increasingly hard to come by as she grows up and away. She also suffers from a bit of seasonal depression (and currently some pitched battles with her Honors Chemistry classwork) so I think she needs and appreciates extra mom time.

As for me, I find myself just limping into the homestretch until I can take a week off between Christmas and New Year. The weather has been depressing – mild and grey, with no sign of snow, which rings alarming bells of climate change and global warming. At this time of year, work is very busy with many contract renewals and negotiations so I find myself speaking to / dealing with more people, inside and outside of my company, which drains my introvert battery. There are also more social obligations – holiday gatherings, dinners and lunches, band concerts, last-minute dentist and doctor and vet and orthodontist appointments. And the kid’s indoor soccer games every weekend.

I am knitting on a few different items and working on several cross-stitch projects that I pick up and put down. My Christmas shopping is more or less finished, but I do need to make a final candle to tuck into my bestie’s stocking. We are making our menus for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day (which is also Brandon’s birthday). And otherwise just trying to light a lot of candles, go to bed early, and take it one busy day at a time.

21 Days of Horror – Days 4-6

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The House of Dark Shadows, 1970

“Vampire Barnabas Collins is accidentally released from his centuries-long confinement at his family’s estate.” A theatrical retelling of the classic TV show.

Despite some positive IMBD reviews, this is a truly dreadful film. The lack of cohesive narrative and quick jumps between time and place make it difficult to follow unless you’ve seen the show. Even then there is absolutely no logic to the behavior of any character – particularly the supposed scientist with crazy bedhead who most resembles a cross between Mrs Roper and Will Ferrell as Harry Caray – when faced with a vampire who in turn looks startlingly like Mr. Bean.
The best thing about it is the setting – filmed on location in places like the Lyndhurst Estate and Sleepy Hollow cemetery in Tarrytown, NY and which lends a truly beautiful gothic aesthetic that almost makes up for the rest of the schlock.

Happy Birthday to Me, 1981

At the snobby Crawford Academy, Virginia’s group of friends start to go missing years after horrible events that happened to her as a child around her birthday.”

Melissa Sue Anderson should have stayed on the prairie (where she played Mary). Also starring Glenn Ford, a staple of many old movies including Superman, and Tracey E. Bregman (Lauren on Young & the Restless). All of the hot young assholes who make up the “Top 10” at Crawford are being murdered in new and innovative ways – one literally gagged 1980s-prep style (though not with a spoon – a kebab). Because apparently in 1980s Crawford Academy, the midnight snack of choice for the cool kids are – kebabs. Of course. You can’t kill someone as easily with a pizza roll!

There is a highly nonsensical twist at the end when the killer is revealed to be not who we thought, but one of the other “cool kids” apparently wearing a latex mask so convincing that even the killer’s father was fooled. (The original deepfake?)
A classic 1980s slasher and the familiar faces make it all the more entertaining.

Night of the Lepus, 1972

“Husband-and-wife scientists unwittingly unleash a horde of giant man-eating rabbits.”

There are a lot of things that defy explanation about this film. First, that relatively respected actors such as Janet Leigh, DeForest Kelley, & Rory Calhoun got mixed up in it. Second, that we are supposed to be afraid of a gang of super cute and decidedly non-scary fluffy bunnies splashed with red paint and allowed to rampage amongst small scale models of farms and villages; third, that they tried to pass off a DUDE IN A BUNNY SUIT as a real murderous rampaging bunter for the close-up killings. Fourth, that a sheriff at a crowded drive-in movie could use a bull horn to announce ““A herd of killer rabbits is headed this way, we have to evacuate this theatre!” And not one person yelled back “Rabbits are herbivores!” (or tried to blame Joe Biden).

october friday check-in

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It’s been such a week that I don’t even have a single photograph to add to this post! Unless you want a grocery receipt that I snapped to upload to my Ibotta app.

4 weeks since my Covid diagnosis and I am still struggling to get back to good health. I’m still very congested with a lingering cough and fatigue. I don’t know if it’s remaining Covid impacts, fall allergy symptoms, a couple of small other-type viruses or what, but I am ready to feel better again. Unfortunately no amount of taking it easy seems to be putting a dent in it and I think everyone in my life is getting a little impatient about my inability to operate at 100%.

It’s been a terrible week in the world community. I do not pretend to be knowledgeable about the complex nature of politics in the Middle East. I personally feel anti-Hamas, pro-Israel, pro-free Palestine, and solidly “people are not their governments”. These are most likely naïve statements and I would probably be told by people more knowledgeable than myself that they cannot coexist. These concepts probably put me at odds with everyone in the conflict who demands that a side be chosen. But the thought of all the babies and children and young people being murdered, raped, mutilated and traumatized is so abhorrent that I cannot believe anyone would care whether they were Palestinian or Israeli.

I have to drag my weary and dispirited bones through an ortho appointment, my first workplace-sponsored Spanish class, and a lot of driving of the kiddo for marching band activities before I can lay my head on my Friday night pillow and consider the weekend. I hope you are all as well as can be expected. xo

21 Days of Horror – Days 1-3

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Many of my longer-term readers will be familiar with our love of vintage horror films – the trashier the better. So much so, in fact, that for the past several years we have devoted the month of October to bingeing them. It started with a goal to watch a horror film every day of the month, but that was unsustainable; we settled at 21 and so 21 Days of Horror was born. (Most years we don’t actually hit 21 but anyway.)

We have some preferences, obviously. We don’t watch a lot of newer stuff. We don’t watch torture. We really like the schlock! Brandon digs Hammer horror from the 1950s and 1960s. I like the 1980’s horror films set at prom, summer camp, and college campuses. We each have our thing.

Which I know is not everyone’s thing. But during the month of October I’ll be dedicating some space to reviews of our 21 Days film fest. Feel free to skip these posts; I’ll group a few days of films together and title them always so you can steer clear if it isn’t your jam. And they won’t be super crafted posts – just the quick and dirty reviews in a few paragraphs of my initial reactions.

So without further ado –

The Funhouse, 1981

“Four teenagers visit a local carnival for a night of innocent amusement, but soon discover that nothing there is innocent or amusing.”

I give it a solid “meh”. I love the carnival setting but it could have been so much more. Obviously the virgin would survive and there were too many nits to pick. Why was the little brother even a character? How could a traveling carnival have such an infrastructure? And didn’t we feel just a little sorry for the carnival freak who was just looking for love?

Hell Night, 1981


“Fraternity and sorority pledges ignore rumors and spend the night in a mansion haunted by victims of a family massacre.”

Linda Blair plays a sorority initiate amongst a bunch 30-year old actors – all of whom are sadly more attractive than she is and have better hair. While lacking a certain dark flair the story is an essentially satisfying with a family of supernaturally murderous freaks, sexy coeds, beheadings, impalings, dismemberment and candelabra.
Watch for one character’s weird obsession with his costume boots as he scrambles to supposed safety over a gate topped with razor-edged spikes.

Girls Nite Out, 1982

“Ohio coeds on a scavenger hunt find a slasher dressed like their school’s bear mascot.”

There was a lot of superfluous nattering in this one before we got into the slashing. We had to sit through a college basketball game with classic early-80s nut hugger shorts and a lot of bro-ham campus nonsense which I can only assume was meant to set the tone. I had difficulties telling the main characters apart since there were several identical wispy blonde sorority girls and multiple beefy dark haired frat boys. The radio DJ played a critical role and Brandon completely lost the plot after becoming distracted by that character’s blue lamé disco cap.
On the upside – the presence of Hal Holbrook in this mishmash was perplexing but made the end product slightly more distinguished and the final scene revealing the identity of the killer behind the shoddy bear mascot costume was enjoyably creepy!

fine, better than fine (HoCo 2023)

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It’s been a blur since Friday afternoon. Homecoming weekend for my daughter’s high school meant a Friday parade and tailgate, a rainy football game, and a busy Saturday getting her ready for the school dance.

The weather was fine for the parade and band parent tailgating but as the evening progressed, a band of bruised-looking clouds intensified on the edge of the sky and by the second quarter, they burst. The temperature dropped and sheets of rain billowed in the stadium lights. An umbrella pinwheeled wildly across the field (thankfully not hitting any of the color guard or getting caught in the bass drum). I ensconced myself in a plastic poncho and loaned my blanket to a blue-lipped kid behind me wearing only shorts. The band, weirdly, sounded the best I’ve heard them this season – maybe they just wanted to get the hell off the field.

Saturday morning dawned crisp and blustery. This whole Homecoming thing has changed a lot since I was in high school. The kiddo’s big obsession was her nails. She wanted a full set of acrylics and went online, booked the appointment, and had the confirmation sent to my phone. As I said to friends, I have entered into what could potentially be the golden era of my parenting: when I just have to pay for things and wait in the car.

I wish I could post pics of her and her boyfriend but I keep her face off the blog since this is my story, not hers. But she looked gorgeous in her black lace dress – her boyfriend was dashing in a black jacket. There were pictures at my house with his mom, there were corsages, and her friends arrived – a group of sweet, scary smart and very eclectic and talented kids (who instantly recognized that I was listening to Miles Davis), took pictures in the park under the swirling sun and clouds and leaves and rain, had dinner at the pub and went for slurpees after the dance was over.

I waited up for her and when she got home, she immediately cast off her high sequined shoes and dropped into the couch with Sarge. The evening was fine, better than fine, quite fun. I made her grilled cheese and we talked until she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

Life with a teenager is hard and there are ups and downs. You walk a fine line of being involved and staying clear; living vicariously through them and also trying to teach them how to rely on themselves. They push you away and pull you close with dizzying speed. There are wild emotions because their brains haven’t developed and are flooded with chemicals. And so when we have times like this, when everything is just fine, better than fine, you take a deep breath and say a prayer of gratitude.

dress shopping, post-Covid, and a warm fall.

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I am happy to report that at long last, I feel mostly recovered from my dust-up with Covid. I’m trying to get rid of the lingering fatigue and miasma in my lungs and head but have my smell and taste back, am back to running (slow, snotty, and wheezy), and I am feeling about a thousand percent better. It was no joke, though, and took me down for longer than any illness I’ve had in the last few years, so again, I highly recommend boosting and taking it seriously.

Otherwise, we’ve been chugging along with marching band season, which hasn’t been as all-consuming this year due to fewer home games. Between that and Covid, I’ve only been to one tailgate and I”ll miss the first marching competition next Saturday because we have tickets to ‘Funny Girl’ at the Fisher Theater in Detroit (purchased before the competition schedule was released). The kiddo has a date to Homecoming in early October (!!) so we had to go dress shopping. The last one she tried on was the winner and is quite an elegant little number, black lace over a nude silk sheath, with little off-the-shoulder straps. She’s going to look like a million bucks, very Old Hollywood, but as a mom it is still gobsmacking to see how SMALL all the dresses are. I told a friend on Facebook that I think they could make 3 of today’s dresses out of 1 of ours from the 1980’s / early 90’s.

We booked our Spring Break – yes, it seems early but after forcing the kid to go to Colonial Williamsburg last year, I’d promised her a trip somewhere warm for next spring. We are going to the Bahamas! For 5 nights and 4 days which already stresses me out a little bit (thinking about being away from home that long) but which I’m sure will be an amazing trip.

The weather in Michigan has been very warm and summery, sunny days with highs in the upper 70’s and cool nights, lather rinse repeat. It shows no signs of cooling off anytime in the next 10 days which is nice, but I really am craving some crisp weather, frost on the pumpkins, and some storms to usher in the cozy season. There’s nothing worse than traipsing around a cider mill or pumpkin patch when it’s 80 degrees and you are sweating and there are bees in your cider.