slush

Another snow day, and another day where I still found myself out and about. I wore Uggs, which is the wrong choice when the weather description is “wintry mix” and your weather is more mix than winter. I wore sunglasses, which is what you do when your eyes are sensitive to light and there’s snow everywhere.

I got to go to an appointment with my mom, which I don’t always have the chance to do since the school year started. It’s strange, at times, when we spent so many months in close proximity, and I knew everything about her body, her diagnosis, how she was eating, and when she wasn’t. Now we’re more in that in-between stage, where so many of our conversations center around treatment, but we’re back to talking about Other Things, too. I’m grateful for the Other Things talks.

I gave blood, which I used to do regularly and want to do regularly again. My feet got wet as I walked into the donation location, but it went smoothly, and I hope I’m back on track with something that can literally save lives without even taking an entire hour out of my day. (Plus I got to read while I waited, and I needed those minutes, because my library loan was set to take back my Kindle book by the end of the day.)

Greta Gerwig didn’t get nominated for Best Director for Barbie, which irritates me, on top of some things making me irate that I shouldn’t share because they’re not truly my worries to share. So I’ll let myself stew and maybe rant a little about patriarchy in Hollywood, because that feels safer than ranting about things over which I actually have some modicum of control.

Slush. It’s on the roads and my shoes and maybe a little in my brain tonight.