March — Take 5

I’ve got five random thoughts. Theres’s no through line to my thinking; I am slowly just trying to build up my stamina to writing again. One thought at a time!

Last week Monday, I opened a bottle of sparkling wine I had been saving for something good. In the absence of something good definitively happening, I opened it because the weather was nice, and soon, according to the weather models, it would not be. The wine was great. The boys played in the yard. Leen had an Aperol spritz, and I took a walk. Days later, we got close to a foot of snow. I am still shoveling out from this snowstorm, though I'll admit I am less vigilant than usual. It's hard to get too amped about a clean driveway or a navigable sidewalk when it looks like it's going to be 50º tomorrow. Will it be the last snow storm of the season? Who is to say. I mean, probably not. I bet we still get another one here in April. I put ample gas in the snowblower if I wanted to use it, but again, not that interested! The problem with my snowblower is that it's not very good. I think I'd be more willing to use a snowblower that actually a) blew the snow or b) moved smoothly. Since my rig does neither particularly well, it's more of a hassle than just shoveling. Really, I am hoisted by my own petard here. This is on me.

Today is St. Patrick's Day but I am wearing purple. This is by no means a shot at the Irish. I love the Irish. One thing you should know about the Irish? St. Patrick was British. I know, I am as surprised as you. It's not quite the same, but if you ever want to get a Turk a lil riled up, point out that Ataturk -- Father of the Modern Turkish state -- was born in what is now Greece. You could make a case, but you'd also be an asshole. St. Patrick was kidnapped by Irish raiders, raised in Ireland, and then escaped, only to return to Ireland to drive out all the snakes, or something. A real Stockholm syndrome if you ask me.

Roman and I were talking about superpowers the other day. He's not sure he wants any superpowers. He's pretty happy just being a four year old; the stress of a superpower is daunting. I get it. That said, I told him I'd want to control the weather. I suspect this had something to do with the snow that was falling when he asked. But now two days on, I think I'd actually take: control my health. I have a slight case of seasonal post nasal drip. And boy would I just bippity boppity boop make that disappear. I say this because it's come to my attention that Roman has a fever of 101.3. He was at 99 this morning, which is not a fever but it's also not not a fever, if you know what I mean. The temp was around 98 when I sent him to school but he was constantly coughing, so I knew the day was going to probably go 1 of 2 ways. On the one hand, the nurse would call me around 10 and say he was sick and I needed to get him, and on the other hand, we'd pick him up and he'd be wiped and when we checked the ear, it would be over 100. Door number 2. It was door number 2. Me and Roman will spend tomorrow watching Numberblocks and contemplating if I am going to hit my ten day in-office mandatory limit. I think I am at 6. No one is actually counting. If there was a silver lining to ICE invading the city, it's that my boss sent an email saying we can mostly stay home if that makes us feel safer. I did not feel safe for a handful of reasons covered elsewhere, so I stayed home. Also, tax season has predominately come and gone, so the usefulness of being in the office pounding out great tax creative has sort of come and gone too. I'll get in there, just not sure if it's going to be four more times before the end of the month. Who knows.

This maybe isn't worth mentioning but here we are: I have decided to lean a little into conspiracies. We all need a little whimsy in our life and sometimes it's nice to follow flights of fancy into some truly turbulent spaces on the internet. That's why I am so heavily invested in the "Is Bibi dead" situation out of Israel. As a quick rundown on what now seems to be too much smoke -- though I've come back around and landed on "he's alive" -- it all started when his son, who apparently is a prolific tweeter, stopped tweeting. Was he killed in a strike? Was Bibi with him? Then his plane mysteriously circled above the Mediterranean Sea for a long time before settling in Germany. Then came the odd videos that looked AI generated. He gave a speech next to some CG-looking flags but his teeth disappeared and maybe he had six fingers. He drove to Jerusalem for a coffee shop, but the coffee didn't move after he drank it. He shook hands with people who have maybe accepted open casting calls to be actors in a mysterious project. And now he's walking around with Mike Huckabee, but Huck is wearing the same tie he wore when the two met last month. I mean, sure, a guy might only have so many ties. I get that, but it seems like if you're trying to prove a point you just ask Mike to not wear the identical outfit to the last time you two met. And he's in On Clouds? I don't know. It's all just mysterious enough that, again, maybe seeing is believing. But where's the fun in that. Also, there have been some huge Kalshi wagers on him leaving office by the end of the month that make me think something is rotten in Denmark.

Lastly, I've been listening to a lot of Kevin Morby lately. I'd never heard of him until a video he released a few weeks ago that featured him and comedian Caleb Hearon riding around on a four-wheeler in the country. One of the things he asks in "Javelin" is "Am I a has-been or am I a husband?" and lemme tell ya: yeesh, chill Kevin. I am also monitoring This Is Lorelei. I am not excited about having to tell people "I listen to This Is Lorelei" because that's confusing. On the other hand, I like that TIL is a distinct name, albeit a weird one. Kevin Morby is guilty of having a regular ass name, and other regular ass dudes like Colin Miller, Greg Freeman, and Cameron Winter all run the risk of being same-samed. On that note, I got into a fight with some dweeb on the Bon Iver reddit about whether Bon Iver is one person or a band, and while I get that Justin Vernon is just one man and the BI project is large, the BI project is obviously his project. I hate kids who got into Bon Iver in the last three years and now think they know more than me about him. Chill youth — and don’t even get me started on the theory that Bon Iver’s second album is supposedly called Bon Iver, Bon Iver by Bon Iver, which I swear to god is also something the kids are trying to tell me.