You know what’s good for a case of the “mlehs?” Finishing some shit you’ve been putting off. I saw a recipe for making a vintage medicine cabinet into a jewelry cabinet with velvet lining and painted whichever way you want, which is fine, but everyone knows the best color to paint something is gold, like chicken planters, my bed, and my old living room with the red walls and gold trim.

I put it aside at the end of the summer because I borked some of the lining process and got all grumpity. But my friend was here yesterday with her knitting, and it inspired me to get it out. After hours of searching, my tired unorganized ass found my glue gun, and I fixed the lining and glued some Catholic religious medals that I scored at the Fremont Market to the front, around the mirror. Today we went down to Pike Place and I got about 50 milagros, and I glued those in the places where the religious medals weren’t. It is viva la Mexico ftw.

I even got a boobies milagro. I have never seen one of those.

“They are for warding off breast cancer, or for breast health,” the woman at the store said.

“Or maybe for fighting gravity,” I said.

I took pictures of the cabinet in progress all summer, and they are scattered through my photo folders. I want to take a picture of my finished cabinet, and make a gallery out of it. BUT, I have somehow lost my battery charger, so I am saving my last bit of juice for like when the aliens come. I will pick up a new charger soon.

You know what’s even better than hot glue gun burns? Do you? Freaking out and waving your hand around and having the glue dry on your burn. Now I have a blister under a glue glob. It’s like Science under Glass. Is my finger going to fall off? I hope not. It’s my special finger I reserve for choad poking.

My big kid called me last night after Strudel went to bed. In her voice was the sound of missing me.

“Read to me, Mom, read me Ereth’s Birthday,” she said.

“Okay,” I said.

She asked what we had been up to and was crushed to hear that while I had been home crafting and eating, Companion had been out picking chanterelles. Looking at these old pictures and seeing that I was nursing then makes me realize that I had what Franny calls “Fat Boobs.” And I have to tell you I just went bra shopping and Ye Olde Size didn’t fit. I had to buy a c-cup. A C-CUP, PEOPLE. I have not been a c-cup since I was sixteen. Parasitic boobnibblers high kick! My shirts fit better now. I am more comfortable sleeping on my face now.

ANYWAY, he came home with a metric butt ton, too, which I was suspicious of because I had not actually picked them myself. Is that weird? I didn’t know I was like this.

“Are you sure this one’s okay?” I said.

“SIGH,” Companion said, who was tired and cold and came home to ingratitude.

Franny told me about what she had been up to as well.

“My dad kept me home on Thursday, isn’t that weird?”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“He took me to the island to clear brush all day instead of school.”

“Were you sick?” I said.

“No. Isn’t that WEIRD?” she said again.

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s weird.” He’s quit his job already. I thought he’d at least make it to the move.

Otherwise she seems well and is looking forward to her birthday party. It was a good weekend, though nothing has been cleaned for two weeks and the dustbunnies are starting to drag race in the corners. I blame: ennui, business, gonorrheas, termites, our new babysitter who is so totally kickass so who wants to stay home and clean, and spending time with friends. YOW!