one.
J was held up with krazy karaoke by his work peeps this week so I found myself engaging in some Single Girl Behavior. I think this concept was introduced on an episode of Sex and the City, and while it made my then-single self think, ohemgee Carrie et al are so quirky!, I couldn't really relate to the idea at the time because my Single Girl Behavior was just regular ole Behavior then. But now I can relate! It's rare that J is gone from the house for very long so mostly the SGB is on lockdown, but this past month J has been waylaid long into the weeknights by work events and I've found myself alone with two dogs and Netflix. We only use one Netflix account at the moment because of the way our media is set up and it's technically J's but if you perused the Recently Played list you'd mostly find that "J" has been watching a lot of indie dramas and Comedies with a Strong Female Lead (I know, he's such a feminist). In the last couple of weeks, "J" has watched The Kids Are All Right ("he" gave it four stars), Friends With Kids (three stars), Bachelorette (a surprising four stars, but only because the movie pulls itself together at the end and Lizzy Caplan is my favorite at the moment), and Orange is the New Black (fivefivefive stars!!!). It's not that J wouldn't watch these movies and shows with me if I really wanted to watch them together, but for some reason I really prefer watching these girl-feelings-pseudodramas by myself. It's my SGB.
two.
Speaking of strong (or not so strong) females (and if you're the type of woman who does this, please don't take this the wrong way because I understand everyone has her own path in life and sometimes that path requires emotional indiscretion in public places) -- Ladies. Please stop having life altering conversations with each other in public restrooms. Your emotional catharsizes might be feeling great as you weep it out on the groady tile floor while your sympathetic gal pal nods and offers you advice on which life path to pursue next, but you have to remember that there are innocent women attending to their business in stalls just a few feet away from you and they (I) don't want to bear witness to your breakdown. Some women (me) seek the public restroom because in addition to having to pee they need to momentarily escape from the tumult of the outside world, but here you are in their (less than ideal) sanctuary, tumulting all over the place. Also the more you weep the longer you stay in the bathroom and some people (me again) are self-conscious about their bathroom habits and want to walk out of their stall to an empty bathroom and not feel judged for not washing their hands because public bathroom soap always dries their hands out and it's not like they've really touched anything to warrant washing their hands anyway plus they have hand sanitizer at their desk so back off! So please. Take it elsewhere.
three.
I'm starting to wonder if these takes are quick enough. Am I doing okay? I really hate doing anything incorrectly.
four.
Speaking of which. The Boy is showing traces of perfectionism at the ripe old age of 7. It's both incredibly endearing and nail-bitingly frustrating. Last night he had a melt down because he couldn't fit his Spanish vocabulary word into the allotted box on his homework worksheet, and if he can't fit it in then what's the point of doing any of it at all and the world is a horrible place and why do I even have to do this and on and on and on. There were alligator tears and a lot of fist clenching. J sat with him and tried to calm him down while I tried to think of ways to explain the perfectionism trait to a seven year old in a way that would both inform and comfort him. If someone had told me at a young age that I would never be done chasing perfection in my work I really think the following years of junior high and high school might have felt less hectic to me. I would have spent less time wondering why I was worrying my essays and math homework into perfect margins with perfect penmanship and perhaps more time focusing on the content of the assignments. Perhaps.
five.
I am realizing that most Americans have never experienced the perfect banana and probably have no idea what they're even missing. I know all about perfect bananas though, so let me tell you how they should taste. The perfect banana is just barely green. Like it's coming off its green and it's mostly yellow but that delicate canary yellow bordering on meringue lime yellow, not the sunflower deep yellow. It should be nice and firm without a single brown spot or soft spot to the touch, and when you take a bite out of it, you shouldn't hear the soft sound of banana slowly separating from banana but a pert and brisk sound or no sound at all. Also when you chew it, it should offer just the slightest bit of resistance and then when you swallow it should have the most pleasantly fruity aftertaste, not a dull sugary aftertaste that sticks to the back of your throat and makes you want to inhale water and scrape your tongue.
The reason I know all of this is because when I was still a tot in Russia, perfect bananas were all that we ate. They got imported from somewhere tropical because goodness knows no banana tree would survive a Russian winter, but because they were imported they were all very exotic and special and perfect. I remember standing in line for them at five in the morning with my mom to get some.
The reason I bring this up at all is because I hardly ever buy bananas anymore since they're usually overripe and gross or under-ripe and never ripen properly at home, but I bought one at Raley's on a craving whim this past Monday and it was the perfect banana. I scarfed it and with each bite I was taken back to my young days in Russia. Food is powerful.
six.
The Girl was getting her bedtime on yesterday. Her eyes were already half-closed and her voice groggy with sleep when she busted out with, "Leila, girls don't have beards, only boys do." And then she was down for the count. This wasn't her first nighttime revelation. Just a few nights prior she observed that caterpillars don't have noses. Check them facts. Girl ain't wrong.
seven.
It's fall and there is yellow evvverrryyywherrreee!
Happy Friday everyone!
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