Let's not talk about it.

I'm starting this post in a dangerous way and that is to say, without a specific purpose or message in mind. And while it might seem that this is how I write all of my posts, let me assure that it is not.

Even if the message is retarded, racist, inflammatory or pointless - almost 100% of my posts have started with a specific purpose. Even if that purpose is as stupid as telling you that I'm happy.

But today - nope. No point. I only have things that I *don't* want to write a post about.

Like my commute situation and how people in California (and elsewhere? I can only speak for Californians in this respect) need to learn that, on a two lane highway, the left lane is for passing and the right lane is for driving and if you're in the left lane and you're not passing people driving in the right lane then GET THE MUTHER FUCK OUT OF THE LEFT LANE YOU NON-PASSING SLOW-DRIVING COW DICK.

See why I didn't want to write about that? It's useless. We can't do anything about it and it's not going to change and we all deal with shit traffic so who cares, is my thought.

Who cares because look at my new favorite hat.

I'm also not quite ready to go into detail about why I'm not going to be a tractor-driving farmer after all, because I feel like I need to sort of synthesize that whole deal for myself before I go throwing it out there for the world to judge and see.

You'll notice that I put "judge" first because I know how the world and I are similar and it is in our desire to pass judgement. I'm judging myself right now and it is not pretty. Or nice. But there are lots of swears, so at least I know it's me doing the judging. When I have my story straight for myself and I've completed an adequate amount of self-judging, I will put it out there for y'all to judge at will.

Meanwhile, check out these muther fucking leeks, man.
This is also kind of a vague useless hint. Enjoy.

I'm also studying for finals, which I definitely don't want to write about because I'm pretty fucking burned out on studying as it is and talking about it doesn't improve the situation any. Thankfully I'm going into finals with solid grades, so if I eff up and bomb them all, I can probably still get As.

That is the delusion I'm allowing myself anyway.

Study Cocktails. They're a thing.

Then there are the holidays which I'm blatantly ignoring. I'm not even making fun of people's absurd yard-mounted holiday cheer interpretations because they seem a bit lackluster and I think that's because it's been pretty cold here, by California standards, and these lazy fucks aren't getting out into the yard to vomit lights and inflatables all over their homes because I can't honey, I'm cold. 

Not that I mind, since it means that there is less hideousness from which I need to recoil on a daily basis, but it sure is making my nightly dog walks less amusing and why do you come here during the late months of the year if not to ogle and judge the horror that people call Festive Decorating.

I'll pass, mama.

I'm going to the spa for a massage today and before you get all It must be nice on me, I'll tell you that it's with a gift card I received as a thank you for administering sub-cutaneous injections to my friend's aging cat for 10 consecutive days and I'm spending the rest of the day studying for finals and writing this blog post so shuddup. I am, however, not working in the greenhouse today and for that I am grateful/excited/anxious/sad. I miss my plants when I can't check on them and I worry that a pest settled in the moment I left yesterday and it is taking this opportunity to irretrievably infest the greenhouse to the point of We Must Burn The Greenhouse To Save The Greenhouse.

DON'T DIE, LETTUCES.

The garden. Well, I could talk about the garden, but there's not tons to say since it's winter and the recent cold snap (It's been in the 20s. I know it's been colder wherever the fuck it is that you live.) has slowed everything down to a crawl and the only activity I've been doing out there is covering and uncovering shit so that it doesn't freeze in the night. The worms are still actively eating my trash and the bees are tucked away safely in their hive with the entrance reducer down to the size of a pinhole, so at least my garden creatures are safe and somewhat happy.

Spoooooooooooooooooooooky patio

And yeah, the last thing that I definitely didn't want to write a whole post about was the weather. The cold. People's reactions to the cold. People's UN-reactions to the cold. People's reactions to other people's reactions about the cold. Weather, pardon the mind-numbing pun here, is polarizing. And with its polarizing nature come people who want to, like, fight about how cold it is, or how NOT cold it is, or how it's colder here than there and oh you'd die if you were where I live and I can't believe you're even saying anything since what you have is not cold THIS IS COLD and such.

Dudes, I get it. It's winter everywhere in this hemisphere. Some places it's more extreme than others. And some people who live in places where the weather is less extreme than other places get cold when the weather seems warm enough for you to be outside in a bikini pruning the hedges.

Good for fucking you. Good for fucking me. It's not something that I want to get into beyond look at what my fingers do when I walk the dog in 30 degree temps without gloves on.

As my hysterical friend commented, "Phone hoooooooooooooome".

I just think it's funny.

My body is a weirdo. I have shitty circulation that runs in the family and this isn't even the worst example of shitty circulation that my body has exhibited today. The other morning I went for a run when it was 23 degrees out, wore all of my running gear including gloves, tights, a hooded vest, long sleeves and earwarmers, and when I got in the shower afterward, my entire body was red from the cold and my hands looked like marbled beef with white spots where the blood had stopped flowing/frozen in place and red spots where the blood was still moving/trapped between frozen spots.

I laughed and called Bubba into the bathroom to look at my bright red bod and freaky marble fingers. He laughed at me, smacked my red butt and went back to bed. Because he is classy and hilarious and thinks the cold makes my body do weird and amusing things, too.

Thanks to our annual ski trips, he's had lots of chances to get a load of these cherished moments first hand.

I'm just glad the weird thing my body did wasn't DIE.

So yeah, I'll work on a post about the Not-A-Tractor-Farmer thing and, meanwhile, you can tell me about the shit that YOU don't want to talk about.

There must be something, right?

Something that's just been hovering around in the back of your head and it's annoying, but not so annoying that you'd dedicate any internet space to it, except now you have the perfect opportunity and I want to know it.

Go.