This is not one of those 100-things list because there won't be 100 things here.
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I hate the smell of band-aids. They make me want to faint or vomit.
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Not a week goes by when I don't read something about or by someone I have met or known somehow. Usually, I have this experience two or three times a week. Granted, they might not remember me, but I have known some folks. There was a weird issue of Vanity Fair last year that had pictures in it of a few people with whom I have worked professionally, and the same issue included an article written by someone who came to a few of my parties in NYC.
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I am really angry at my mother-in-law right now and don't feel the composure needed to explain myself or try to break through her hearing/cognitive difficulties to explain myself to her. This is unlike me.
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I fight paranoia every day. My parents were spies, and their paranoia became part of the family disease. I think I do pretty well in fighting it most of the time. But this isn't something I can get a girl-scout patch for, and it's also weird to include this information in a stray blog post.
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I can't afford to keep my apothecary stocked this year, and I don't care so much. A year ago, the unstocked herb closet would have made me panic. So I was wondering to myself, Am I less interested in herbs now? What's my problem? I decided I have no problem. I am busy working with herbs that grow in my backyard, and I'm learning their bountiful strengths. I'm not making medicine for others right now -- just this family. (Message to D: But this doesn't mean I won't order herbs from elsewhere in the future!)
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I often expect to die tomorrow. Most of the time, I'm not worried about that. But it makes it hard to make plans, I guess.
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my cousin, who is my age, just became a grandma last week, and they're all happy and thriving.
