Tl;dr: Apparently I actually like the canon?
I bought a house in the Texan suburbs. If you’re my age and you haven’t bought property yet, you likely think you can’t afford it. Well, let me tell you: you can’t. No one can. Buying a house is stupid. Everyone continues to tell me what a great investment I have made, and I did all the financial things you are supposed to do, but by the time I’ve paid off my mortgage, I will have paid double the sales price of the house. And that doesn’t count all the money I put into upkeep and improvements which, one week…
Well, I have sort of an unofficial rule not to do two of these books posts in a row without something else in between them, because I don’t want it to seem like all I do is read, but…all I do is read. Also, since I’ve started doing these, I’ve now developed a compulsion to write something here about every book I read, regardless of whether it’s of any interest to anyone or not. For a bit, I thought maybe I’d just stop! But I feel like this stack of read books is burning a hole through my desk, waiting…
I read 57 books in 2017, although I don’t necessarily count every book I read as a “book.” I also read some business books and some children’s books and things that I didn’t keep track of. Here’s what I read in the last few months of 2017 and January:
Last weekend, my friend and colleague, Zandy Ring, and I spoke at WordCamp US in Nashville. Our topic was “Remote Control: Establishing Accountability and Expectations in a Distributed Environment.” Here is our blurb:
I haven’t done one of these in awhile. I’ve been reading a lot! But not much of it has been good. Anyway, here’s all the books I’ve hated lately:
I didn’t expect my last post to be so popular! It’s made me nervous to post again, because I definitely won’t write anything as good — to all my new followers, so that you know what to expect, I blog about once a month. These days, I tend to write about 1/3 each feminist rants, book reviews, and pointless essays about minor things in my life. And then about twice a year I write something about travel. Most everything I write is extremely long. Which brings us to this post!
There was a moment at the beginning of Wonder Woman where I cried. No, it wasn’t the terrible accents. No, it wasn’t the fact that the Amazons had shaved armpits. (Come on, Hollywood.) No, it wasn’t the inexplicable missed opportunity for casting Lucy Lawless as Hippolyta.
I have a confession that’s a bit too long for Twitter: whenever I’m standing close to someone, no matter who they are or what the context is, I think about licking their face and how godawful socially the aftermath of that would be. It’s similar to how when you’re standing on a high place, you think about jumping off: that this very simple thing that would take two seconds and that you could easily do for no reason at all would ruin everything.
Back in January, I injured my calf muscle doing toe raises with a weight at Orange Theory. I thought it was just a really sore muscle so I kept exercising, and then I tore it running fast uphill on the treadmill. That time, I knew it was injured. There was a painful pop and I had to leave class and limp home. The GP said nothing was sticking out, so it would probably heal on its own (there’s really no reason to ever go to a GP), so I waited until it didn’t hurt anymore, and then went back to…