BUT!
I've started two other blogs that are less about the open-diary ramblings of NoFo and more about focused topics and CV. So if you're interested ...
TMIpolar: my bipolar adventures and essays on mental health in general
The One Who Mumbles: reviews and essays—mostly about the arts, natch—all collected in a place I can use as a writing portfolio
Read, bookmark and hopefully enjoy them at your leisure. And now that my mind is in blogging mode again, maybe I'll start posting here as well. Or not.


Especially on a morning that you didn’t eat breakfast.

Three out of four Musketeers tell me I’m awesome and rockin’! The fourth says I’ll die alone, sobbing under a seat in coach. Which is impressive to get all crammed on one so-called “fun” size wrapper.

Dad’s surgery was “smooth and easy” according to the surgeon—who may or may not have been referring to the fact that the hospital shaved my dad from the neck down before they poked him in the aorta—and he’s now recovering/waking up in the recovering/waking up room as we continue to stuff our faces in the waiting room.
You might say he’s on the mendo from his endo. But please don’t. Never say that.
When you got up at 4:30 and had to pack for a day of sitting in the waiting room at the hospital surgery center and you remembered to bring all the important stuff. So that’s good.
... has accidentally taken his night psych meds in the morning enough times lately that his mom finally had to make a bunch of big white paste-on labels for his pill containers so he hopefully won’t get so confused again in the future.
But it sure makes a super-cute excuse.

I finally got rid of that hideous Monster MalachiteTM square plate and replaced it with a delicately fluted saucer that matches Bitch Kitty’s elegant Velvety VerdigrisTM food bowl.
Three of Walmart’s finest ran into my cart in one trip and Iowa-timidated ME into saying Ope and I’m sorry but that’s just an egregious abuse of first-caucus-in-the-nation power.
Also: furnace filters + lightbulbs + non-slip rug pads + cat food-to-poop supplies = a sad, sad afternoon of quiet-desperation adulting
He does, however, have a benevolent tolerance for your unruly hair.
So my fancy-pants event tonight is all but guaranteed to be a catastrophic sartorial failure.
But I voted early so the republic is saved.

Jake: The lazy man who’s trying to recast the narrative of his randomly chosen outfit as the banner of an 1832 student-revolutionary rebellion inspired by the cholera death of French Parliamentarian Jean Maximilian Lemarque, a popular anti-royalist and champion of the poor, as depicted in a popular 1980 musical inspired by an 1862 novel by Victor Hugo!
Why did she just plop down with her back to me and her butthole on my foot? She has all the social subtlety of a passive-aggressive sixth-grader at recess.