The Bloggess

I had a list on my phone about things I needed to tell you but I can’t find it and now I’m just going from memory, which is not good for anyone.

So first of all, I’m back from 48 hours in Iceland and I want to write all about it but I need to find my notes which I also lost. SOMEONE HELP ME.

Here are the things I can remember…if you live in Idaho, I am coming to you! On November 5th I’ll be at the Osher Institute in Boise for a reading/discussion/signing and on November 6th I’m doing a keynote for the NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) Boise Conference. Tickets are available to both at the links but the first one is cheaper if you’re not already a member of NAMI.

What next? Oh! I’m also speaking and signing books at the Texas Book Festival in Austin on Sunday, November 15th! It’s an incredible 2 day schedule and it’s free for everyone, but you can get early access to some sessions and signings if you want to buy a Festival Friend Pass.

What else…? Oh! Go vote! And double check your ballot before you turn it in because there are reports of democratic votes turning into republican ones. (BIG SIGH.)

Today starts the Nowhere Halloween Book Fair, so come by if you’re in town this weekend.

If you haven’t checked out my art substack or my ephemera time travel substack lately they are filled with fun stuff. (And as always, you can subscribe for free.)

Purrsy and Professor Midnight are continuing their love affair and refuse to be more than 2 feet from each other. Purrsy has turned from an unhinged menace to a complete snugglepuss and I can only assume that Professor Midnight is made out of xanax. Purrsy lost a baby tooth and I’m keeping it and I can’t tell if that makes me a good mother or a weird one.

I know I’m forgetting like 8 other things. More later…

I am finally coming out of this massive depression and I just had a week where I felt like an actual human with real human energy and it was such a relief that I was saying yes to everything because I’ve been saying no for so long and Victor immediately took advantage of that to say, “What if we go to Iceland?” because he knows that seeing the Northern Lights is #1 on my bucket list and I was like, “I kind of want to say yes but also what if I fall back into the darkness or it’s too tiring?” and he was like, “TOO LATE, I BOOKED IT WHEN I HEARD YES” and so that is why we’re leaving for Iceland less than 12 hours. And I pointed out that I wasn’t sure if I had the stamina for a real trip and he was like, “That’s fine because I just booked it for 48 hours” and that sounds nuts but honestly, it works for us. I’m not entirely sure what is on the agenda but I will be on Björk alert the entire time because I love her, but also I would be way too anxious to say hello to her and so instead if I see her I will just capture the moment in my brain, like I am birdwatching and she is a giant shoebill. Or a puffin. Which apparently live in Iceland and I would be equally excited to see one because when you turn 50 you immediately become a bird-nerd.

Our house sitter will be watching the babies (SORRY, BURGLARS) and I would worry that they would miss us except that Dorothy Barker just wants to nap, and Purrsy and Professor Midnight have become utterly besotted with each other. I’m not sure if they’re long lost brothers or if “they were roommates” but they will not leave each other’s side.

There are literally 50 softer places for them to sleep and so many cat beds. Nope. They just want to spoon on my chair.

This isn’t even their water bowl. It’s Dottie’s. They have 3 larger bowls in the house but if one cat is checking something out the other has to be doing it at the exact same time.

Also, yes, that is a cat playpen and I realize that’s a weird thing to have for teenage cats but Purrsy used it as a refuge when he was a baby and wanted to get away from Dottie and now Purrsy and the Professor both carry all their toys and drop them inside the playpen like it’s their dragon horde and so now I guess we’re the house with a cat playpen? I don’t know, y’all. I just live here.

Everyone who said Purrsy needed a friend was right.

Anyway, that is what’s up with me.

Wish me Björk luck.

So last week Victor and Hailey and I went to socialize feral shelter kittens and the kittens were all like, “fuck you guys” and hid but there was this lanky, black teenage cat who was like, “PICK ME UP. LOVE ME. LET ME CRAWL INSIDE YOUR CARDIGAN.” I’ve never had a black cat before so I’m not sure if this is typical black cat behavior, but he insisted that we not leave and then literally jumped into an adoption box by himself and stared at us, like “What is taking you so long? PITTER PATTER LET’S GET AT ‘ER.”

We immediately took him to the vet and then he immediately broke several things in the vets office and then he was ours. Purrsy and Dorothy Barker are tentatively welcoming. The black cat is so laid back and doofy he didn’t even seem to notice there were other animals in the house. Or maybe he’s just used to lots of animals in the shelter? He is the definition of nonchalant.

I cannot take a good picture of him because he is a void and my camera insists it needs more light.

Why is his leg out like that? No one knows. But he’s purring like a motherfucker and has made himself at home.

And so now we have a new cat (HOW DID THIS HAPPEN) and we need a name. We haven’t entirely decided on one yet, but below is our most recent conversation:

me: Should we do pun name so he matches Purrsy Bysshe Shelley?

Victor: He looks like a Jinx. Because he’s full of hijinks.

Hailey: How about Midnight?

Victor: Too plain.

me: Johnny Cash!

Hailey: How is that a pun?

me: Because he’s “the man in black.”

Victor: That’s a very long way to go for a joke. How about…Azreal?

me: Oh, I like that.

Hailey: Who?

me: The black cat that Gargamel had on the Smurfs?

Hailey: Azreal was orange.

me and Victor: Absolutely not.

Hailey: Yeah he was. Look him up.

Victor: Wtf? Is this a Mandela Effect thing?

me: It has to be.

Victor: Weren’t you going to make me a shirt with Gargamel on the front and “Everyday I’m Wizarding” on on the back?

me: Ran into copyright issues. How about Noche?

Victor: They’re delicious.

me: Not gnocchi. “Noche”…like the Spanish word for night.

Victor: That’s not even close to how you pronounce that word.

me: Walter Walnuts!

Hailey: What?

me: It’s just fun to say. “Walter Walnuts.”

Victor: That’s a ridiculous name. You might as well call him “The Jonas Brothers.”

me: How about…Moonshadow?

Victor: I don’t hate it.

me: AND Moonshadow was a song by Cat Stevens. Get it? CAT Stevens?

Victor: So why don’t we just call him Cat Stevens?

me: So his first name is “Cat”? Absolutely not.

Hailey: Didn’t you want to name a cat “Mr. President”?

me: 12 years ago I did. It’s since lost its charm.

Hailey: Are you naming him Moonshadow after the cat in the Warrior Cat books? Feels very millennial-coded.

me: Oh, I forgot about those books.

Victor: I think we need to figure out what kind of cat he is to name him. Like, is he a menace, a familiar, a superhero?

me: How about Professor Midnight.”

Hailey: Hmm.

me: Because that sounds like a detective or a villain or a spooky friend…it’s very open-ended and mysterious.

Victor: I like it. Professor Midnight. He’s an academic. Not a medical doctor.

Hailey: Clearly.

Here’s a bunch of stuff:

I was just checking the mail and I heard a woman yell, “PUT YOUR POOPOO IN YOUR POCKET” and I kind of just froze because I don’t even know how to respond to that? It seems like an insult or a threat but turns out it was an elderly woman from my neighborhood who was taking a walk and (I guess?) giving advice to a man who was walking his dog and was carrying a little plastic bag of (presumably) dog poo, and he sort of stutter-stopped and looked at her like, “Pardon?” and she was like, “Yeah, just put your poopoo in your pocket! Then you don’t have to hold it!” And then she grinned helpfully like it was the most reasonable life hack ever. Then she mimed stuffing shit in your pocket. He didn’t put it in his pocket but he did smile and wave and I can’t tell if this is a sign that I live in a very kind neighborhood or a very weird neighborhood. Also, now I can’t stop yelling, “PUT YOUR POOPOO IN YOUR POCKET” because it is very catchy.

Today is Victor’s birthday. Happy birthday, Victor! PUT YOUR POOPOO IN YOUR POCKET. (See…catchy.)

Yesterday I shared a new doodle on my art substack and it’s not very pretty but I really like it.

Today I shared my collection of antique photos of ACTUAL GHOSTS on my time-travel substack.

You can subscribe to either of them for free if you like, and you’ll get them in email each week. They’re different from the blog but still me. 🙂

Love!

22 years ago today I was hooked up to a million monitors and thanking God for epidurals. I was so worried that they’d mix up our baby with someone else’s so as soon as I gave birth I told Victor, “FOLLOW THAT BABY” and he ran out of the room after them. And my heart has been living on the outside of my body ever since.

Happy birthday, HaileyBug. You are the best of us.

Autocorrect on my text messages is making me look even more unhinged than normal lately, so if you ever feel bad about your texting issues, please enjoy these two examples from just the last week:

What I thought I wrote:

“I need to start being more kind to myself. I’ve been really getting down on myself lately.”

What I actually sent:

“I need to start being more kind to myself. I’ve been really going down on myself lately.”

What I thought I wrote:

“I slept for maybe two hours last night so instead of getting up this morning I just brought my laptop, a bowl of old easter candy and my notes back into bed and breakfasted with the dog and cat, who seemed confused but nonjudgmental.”

What I actually sent:

“I slept for maybe two hours last night so instead of getting up this morning I just brought my laptop, a bowl of old easter candy and my notes back into bed and breastfed with the dog and cat, who seemed confused but nonjudgmental.”

Anyway, this is my public apology to everyone I text because you really don’t deserve this and I hope you enjoy whatever is wrong with me because holy fuck, it’s a lot.

(Above: a live representation of how I assume everyone looks when they open my texts. I’m so sorry.)