Apple Books decided I should buy Kat Rosenfield’s How To Survive In the Woods. I’m only a bit in, but my wife noticed I was looking for the link
“Where Is It?!”
It might be in the shared library on Apple Books
After fumbling around, I think I found it and sent it to her, but she’s sleeping.
We’ll see how it turns out.
I don’t think I’m really the demo, but her descriptions are interesting. She also pops in and out on some of my other sources. I did like her recent piece on Sophie Cunningham. And her takes on Graham Planter. And contraception, how Mean Girls gave really bad information about many, many things.
There are many reasons to subscribe to The Free Press, and Kat’s writing is just one of them.
So, what’s on tap for the next few days? Medical stuff tomorrow and Monday then basically a week free. That freedom could be interrupted; the PT folks could find an opening. Boo! Also, Ow! It’s also supposed to get uncomfortably-hot again for a few days. Nice things? Yeah, you’re not allowed to have them.
On to a prompt….
What’s a life I dream of living but haven’t said out loud yet?
Huh? I think the OCR botched this one, too. Or maybe not; I think I understand what it’s trying to get at. Is there a lifestyle I’d be excited about living, but haven’t communicated.
Nothing I can think of, really. You play the hand you’re dealt. Obviously I didn’t have any athletic prowess. I was never particularly tall. I’ve often been overweight. I have comically-short legs; my wife and I have the same inseam, though I’m several inches taller.
I loved working in radio. Even there, however, my symptoms were starting to affect my speech. I left probably near the peak of the industry, and it’s been very tough since the Real Estate bubble burst, taking a significant portion of ad revenue with it.
Could I have worked in law? Sure. But the timeline for doing that was tough, and I probably wouldn’t have paid off my loans by the time my health really started failing. I also wouldn’t have met Sarah..
But I wouldn’t have hidden any of my desires. They aren’t anything to keep hidden to myself; so why would I?
Where does my MTV-formed brain go?
I think I’ve written enough for the day.