by Beth Woolsey -

15 Realistic Recipes to Feed Your Family in an Apocalypse

The pandemic continues, Oregon is on fire along with the rest of the West, and even though the fire a couple miles from our house is now 75% contained (THANK YOU, FIREFIGHTERS!), my brain is broken. Just totally kaput. Zero percent battery, and I forgot where I put my brain charger. 

I was feeling badly about this, as though my inability to get anything done is proof that I’m a lazy sack who doesn’t deserve the air I breathe, even though that air is currently full of smoke and so dense we could chew it. But then several friends reminded me that our brains and our bodies are reacting exactly as they were built to do. There are fires in our forests. Visibility is shot due to opaque air. We’ve been at a heightened state of emergency for six months. OF COURSE WE’RE EXPERIENCING MENTAL SHUT DOWN. Our bodies are priming us to fight or flee. Our brains don’t need to form complete sentences right now. They don’t need to do anything other than basic survival.  ...  read more

by Beth Woolsey -

All of 2020: A Story about Dog Poo

This is Abby (the human) and Lulu (the dog).

That pic is from 3 months ago, which means Lulu is now 45x bigger.

He is not a labradoodle, after all.

He is either a small, black bear, or a moose, or a husky, feral, adorable kindergarten boy named something that ends with -y. Like Kenny. Or Jeffy. Or Tommy. 

You know the one. He’s the kid who has NO IDEA how long his limbs are. He’s Bambi on the ice, made from 73% sweetness and 27% flailing. He takes corners too fast and runs into walls. He eats with pure joy and creates a colossal mess. Never did he ever finish a meal without spaghetti sauce or jelly to his eyebrows and wiping his face on his shirt.  ...  read more

by Beth Woolsey -

This Is Worse Than the Day I Pooped My Closet

Listen, friend. I will give you one — and only this one — opportunity to stop reading. If periods gross you out, you should be done. Right now. Click away. Abort. SAVE YOURSELF. Or carry on. I don’t care — *shrug* — I’ve done what I can. Now it’s on you.

I don’t really know what to say about this other than it’s worse than The Day I Pooped My Closet. And I do not believe Hallmark has made a sympathy or apology card that quite covers the “I’m sorrys” I owe my son-in-law so I’m a little stuck on how to make this right. ...  read more

by Beth Woolsey -

26 May 2020 — The COVID Diaries: Staying Sane in a Time That’s Not

Dear Diary,

I found a turd on my desk this morning.

An actual poop.

Just one tiny tootsie roll, all by itself, still fresh. Puppy sized. But there was no way for the puppy to get on my desk, and, also, he wasn’t in my room. Which means the turd just spontaneously materialized there. Or someone put it there. Except WHO WOULD DO THAT so I’m going with Option A — spontaneous materialization. I cannot accept the horror show alternative that I’m STUCK IN MY HOUSE QUARANTINING with a MONSTER who deposits mini poopies, hot off the presses, ON MY DESK.  ...  read more

by Beth Woolsey -

These Are Our Consecutive Weeks of Unprotected Grinding

This isn’t a real post.

This is a check-in because I haven’t written a real post.

In brief, here’s what’s happening around our house:

1. I’m writing. All the words. All the time. Morning ‘til night. Weekdays and weekends. Just writing and writing and writing. More soon.

2. The dog ate Greg’s dental night guards a couple weeks ago and it’ll be at least one more before he gets the replacements. That means all I’ve heard and will hear for the foreseeable future is that these are our Consecutive Weeks of Unprotected Grinding. ...  read more

by Beth Woolsey -

I’m Biased Against Fat People and I Just Found Out: Especially Awkward Since I AM One

WELL, THIS IS QUITE A SHOCK, FRIENDS. Especially given the size of my butt. And also my thighs. And also my belly. All of which are, objectively speaking, according to science, fat. 

To be clear, I’m not using the word “fat” in a derogatory sense here. I’m using it in a factual sense. I’m not suggesting fat is unattractive or that it makes someone in any way inferior to folks with less fat. ...  read more

by Beth Woolsey -

Sometimes I Think We’re Not That Weird. Then I Realize NOPE.

You know, sometimes I think we sort of have our crap together around here. Sometimes I think we’re Not That Weird. Or rather, if we’re weird, we’re weird like Everyone Else now. We have our quirks. We have our adorable dysfunctions. We try to love each other well, and we succeed and fail and succeed and fail, but we keep practicing. So I look around these days, and I figure we’re Normal.    ...  read more