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tannertan36
Game of Thrones Daily
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YOU ARE THE REASON
Discoholic 🪩
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Andulka
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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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★
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@ghostoflindseypast
I’m in the basement, hoping that the Covid that I caught in DC last week will not sneak up the stairs to infect the rest of my family while knowing that it likely will. I can hear Mike and Kit in the kitchen having an animated discussion about if she is or is not wearing underpants, and what fibbing is, and I just love them both so much.
I’m on the runway in Atlanta, seated while folks still board. It’s been years but I finally figured out that I need to set an alarm to check in on time, and I’m no longer always the last one on the plane.
I got in on Tuesday, close to midnight after a long delay. Three hours at the worst terminal at Reagan, so bored I worked on spreadsheets I never get to. I was supposed to come here the spring before last but got exposed to Covid; I was supposed to come here in 2007, for AWP, and I chose to drive west to California instead. It wasn’t a mistake.
Yesterday after we wrapped up shuffling post its of all sizes in a windowless room, a thing I love and a thing that makes me tired, and after Molly and I debriefed and untangled and tried to articulate how things have been and how they should be, I took the MARTA back to Hannah’s apartment, dropped my stuff, and went for a very long walk.
Hilda died in December, reaching the valley of a long, gentle slope where it was never quite time until it was. We thought we’d wait, we said we’d wait, but as of last week we have two kittens, and one of them is named Marta. The other is Fish.
I walked nearly five miles, across a lot of octagonal pavers, broken by tree roots coming through the sidewalk. I walked through the Georgia Tech campus and thought about how far I’ve come and how lucky, in a lot of ways, I finally feel. I thought a lot about trajectory.
Hannah came home from the ER at midnight and told me about a patient exactly our age who could die at any moment. She said she would drink one beer with me. We each had two.
I have not encountered a device like this before.
It saves water. Neat?
I’m in Denver again, one hundred years later, and I dragged two thirds of our leadership team to this bar to see if it still has a sink toilet.
It did.
It’s the one year anniversary of a job that I have only cried at two times so far— in May when I found out we had all been exposed to Covid and cancelled what was supposed to be Kit’s first (but third) birthday party and sometime maybe two months ago when I felt tired and agitated and overwhelmed.
When I worked at the museum there were points where crying multiple times a day was a thing that happened. None of us has doors on our offices, and I would consciously save napkins from my lunch for making crying at my desk .005% less noticible.
I didn’t start out crying much as the job I left that one for, but then a lot of wild things happened, and less then ten months later I spent my exit interview with my nose running (crying is 70% uncontrollable booger drips, which makes it worse) into my mask. Most of the crying there was rage. Come to think of it, a lot of the crying at the museum was too.
Five years ago I was unemployed. Six years ago I was making pretty crappy money. Five and a half years ago I was rejected for the job I started one year ago today, and today I have the job of the person who rejected me for it. Four years ago I was making 34k working 40 hours a week. Nonprofits, man. I’m still a non profit employee, but I’m not underpaid in the way I was for so long. It’s not unrelated to the crying.
Yesterday I called Meg on the way to pick up Kit from school and told her I’d make green spaghetti for dinner and to bring cream cheese. She was in the yard when I got home, and when we went inside I opened the cookbook to the green spaghetti page and proceeded to make an entire dinner that was not green spaghetti at all.
When Mike got home later I was in the final stretch of bedtime, reading the same Spider-Man comic we read every night (“the heroes are watching the dog day parade,” I’ll tell Mike at random intervals. “I like dogs,” he’ll respond, and if Kit is anywhere in the vicinity she’ll yell “I like parades!” And then, as the tiny chorus of whatever combination of our family is present, “I like dogs and parades!!”), he stood at Kit’s bed, chest high on him, a “ladder bed,” and talked through our days. We talked about how Francisco knocked over Kit’s structure (her word!) at school, Mike’s parent teacher night, how Vivian ate all of the not-spaghetti dinner (a miracle!). She went to sleep without protesting and for the first day in a while, so did I.
It’s New Year’s Day, and I am working, the third to last day at the museum where I’ve worked for the past three years, where one time I laid on the floor of the office after a very long day and people expressed exactly the right about of concern and bewilderment and mirth, all together at once.
Last night we celebrated in the neighbors’ yard from 5:30 to 7:15pm, then walked three houses down and went to bed very early. It is the best New Year’s Eve I’ve had since 2017, when Mary Alice and Caroline and Julia, three good pals from very different parts of my life, converged at my house and drank a lot of Prosecco mixed with gin and lemon and sprigs of rosemary from the yard and burned the bad things that had happened in the previous year in a bowl on my living room floor.
I am thinking a lot about friendship and a lot about writing and a little bit about the intersection of those two things. It is hard not to think about the people you’ve been and the person you want to be on the first day of the new year.
But this morning I made coffee and Kit and Mike and I watched the Mountian Goats livestream from last night, my phone propped up on the sugar jar as we ate our eggs and danced a little in our seats. The light showed how dirty our cabinets are. It feels silly to say but I did and do feel very lucky.
Happy New Year, Internet.
I’m sitting at the table in my back yard and the crickets are loud and the light is good. It is just about to get dark. I’m eating green beans (yellow and purple, too, technically) with my fingers. I grew them and I grilled them, a bit ago, with oil and sugar and salt and a bit of soy sauce and chili oil. They are very good.
I have a sixteen month old daughter. We took a walk tonight, toddled to the end of the block where there is a strip of grass with many pine cones and usually at least one dog. The family who bought the house on the corner was on their lawn, and we stood and chatted and it turns out that [what, the mother, implying only one? The woman? One of them?] grew up in Rockford near where I went to college and went to college in Chicago at the same place I went to grad school.
The world is very wild and very small. Kit, my daughter, started a nannyshare two weeks ago. A thing I thought was bougie and stupid and a thing that feels safe and necessary In These Times. I found the family on Facebook; they’re lovely. On Friday, talking to Sparks on the phone, we realized that Molly knows them and that their cat used to live in our old apartment on Schubert. What is the world where my kid spends five days a week with a four footed creature who not only shared my zip code or my block but my bedroom?
Here is the most tumblr worthy thing in years, a small world, some beans, a lot of crickets.
Unrelatedly, I no longer know how to use this website and cannot get rid of this picture of my grill.
I cleaned all the dead leaves off every plant in the house and threw the rosemary plant that died over Christmas out and took the garland off the stairs and swept up the remains of the fern that didn’t like the upstairs bathroom as much as I thought it would. The dried eucalyptus looked okay, but I threw it out anyway. And the bay leaf wreath that was a housewarming gift and overstayed its time on the kitchen wall. I found a sprig of dried something from the garden behind the aprons and into the garbage it went. The Christmas tree isn’t dead yet, so it stays. I put new dirt in some geranium pots and this feels like the best way to start the new year.
In July I bent down to admire some snails in a tide pool at this beautiful beach in Maine where we were spending the Fourth of July with Stuart and Susanna, and my phone popped out of my pocket and into the water. It worked for a minute and then didn’t work, and that’s the last time I logged into tumblr. I’m sick today, with what I told a woman on the phone was “some sort of flu” and probably is: aches, chills, a sore throat. My computer is upstairs and and Hilda is on my lap and I thought I wouldn’t remember my password but I did. I haven’t written anything on here for nearly a year. I don’t need to tell you what a disaster this year has been, but here are the highlights: just days after my last post in early January I fell down the stairs and hurt my back. I was out of work for two weeks, and when I returned most things had gone to shit. I won’t bore you with the details, but I got laid off in August and the organization I was working for doesn’t even exist as of today. Unemployment has not been great, and even though a number of other things have been very good, not being able to get such a central, necessary thing to work hour creates a vortex at the middle of it. Everything else is mostly good. A few weeks ago we were at a Friendsgiving party and had to do the thing where you articulate what you’re thankful for. I made a very good joke about lactose intolerance, but what I’m really thankful for are the people in my life right now: there are some good ones, and after a rough few years and with a current less-than-ideal career outlook that’s more important than ever. I keep meaning to delete all this, to not have it on the internet for all to see. Do you know it’s nearly been ten years? When I deleted livejournal years ago I converted it to a PDF printed it out, and it’s still in my basement all these years later. Maybe I’ll change my name. Maybe I’ll leave this here. It was very nice for a long time.
Job Train
I pray that everyone who likes/reblogs this gets the job they’re looking for. 🙏🙏🙏🙏Good vibes sent 💸💸💸💸💸
I NEED THIS SO BAD RIGHT NOW
I no lie just got hired today!! I am amazed.
Originally posted by thecynicalcrayon
Omg bless
Originally posted by jeunefillebiensoustousrapports
GOD BLESS THIS POST
Please
GUYS I BELIEVE THIS WORKED FOR ME I JUST GOT THE JOB OPPORTUNITY OF MY LIFE!!!
In process! I will let you know if I get the job!
Job Interview today,I need this
It really worked
Not missing this chance to not reblog this. Send all the good juju my way, I need it& bad!!!
@insertepithethere
Need this
Ooh yes I applied today
Need it
I GOT THE JOB WANTED PLUS SOME INTERNSHIPS!!!
THIS WORKS!!!!!
Lmao I’m glad my blessings are reaching people
So true believe in him
Work in my favor!!!
please I just had an interview and I really need this or another job asap 🙏🙏🙏
Bless 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾
Praying for y'all ✊🏾💙
Point your hand toward this post!!!!!! 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾
I GOT THE JOB BRUH 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I WAS SO HAPPY
I need this 😩🙏🏾
Well I just got my summer hours and my checks finna be liiiitttt!!!
💁🏾💁🏾💁🏾
jesus work
Hope I get itttt
Have an interview tomorrow wish me luck!!!!!
I applied for a new job closer to home… again.
Y'all don’t even understand how badly I need this
Tonight I nearly purchased a stamp with both our last names, hyphenated even though neither of ours technically are, and new address on it, but then I didn't, because who I am kidding, I never send mail (it took me three tries for that not to autocorrect to email, a telling sign) and also we need to stop spending money because all the house things directly followed by all the holiday things have wiped us out. What happened in recent months: we bought a house, we painted and sanded and ripped up carpet, we moved, my grandpa died, I went to Denver for work and thought a lot about the time that Monica and I went there in 2010, we scattered my grandma's ashes and ate pizza on her birthday, and we had a really, really nice bout of winter holidays-- Christmas and New Years both. On Sunday we stayed in our pajamas all day and sat on the couch. Annie left to go for a run and returned with a pizza. I've already finished two books in the new year and spent most of today throwing away paper and sorting out files in my office (number of people who walked in and said "it looks like a bomb went off in here: 3). Things are fine. In the coming weeks I will eat food with friends and do more cooking with Mike (there is an island in our kitchen and it is so great to have someone sit and talk to you while you cook). Lizzie and John will come to visit. Annie and I will pick up Sparks and her mom at the airport and drive to DC for the march. Internet book club is this month. I'll regrout the shower eventually. Things are good.
I am on the train to Boston. The train is off and it is dark, and I am worried about making my plane. The man in the seat in front of me is making calls advocating for a charter school cap to be lifted and I am agitated because I'm an advocate of neighborhood schools, and it is hard for me not to glare at him, and also he has been on one call for 30 minutes and is doing it wrong. He doesn't seem to be making progress, either. If all goes as planned, which I don't expect it to, I'll land at Midway right before tee Cubs win, and I will be happy for all the people in my life who that means something to, and I will celebrate with Sparks and the rest of Chicago and feel probably very wistful about the life that isn't mine anymore. The train is moving again and this man is still talking to the same person.
A testament to how much both tumblr and I have changed over the past 8+ (!) years: I now feel really weird about posting a photo of my Friday night activities and telling y'all about how Mike walked into the room said "you're doing to opposite of cleaning." Whatever dudes, now my big old cactus (not pictured) doesn't have mold growing on its roots so who cares.
At the time, I was so, so, so adamant about this photo being taken. I got very bossy, and I pulled Laurie and Carol away from the cheese table for it. And at the moment, I couldn’t be happier that I was so insistent. Like, look at that A+ matriarch.
Facts left out of my grandma’s obituary:
Legendary junk collector
Perfected telling you that you were full of shit with her eyes
Into casual misandry and gallery walls before they were cool
We are trying to buy a house and I have a spreadsheet with a lot of numbers on it and a post it with six or seven open houses to see in a two-hour span tomorrow and some anxiety and also pastel and black tile bathrooms from the fifties have such a soft place in my heart because of the house I grew up in but are they even practical? Just kidding that is the least of my worries.
Hi here's a portrait of a beast.
