Hey there! It’s been a long time. I didn’t mean to leave you hangin’ for so long. I’ve been out living my truth or whatever Oprah says I should be doing.
I officially launched my dance photography business over the summer. In August I started referring to myself as a lady boss, but then people kept pointing out that I’m my only employee so I’ve come up with a more obnoxious term for my shituation: threelancer. Get it? Because I teach ballet, write, and work as a dance photographer? I know what you’re thinking: you want to quit me. But you’re already here, so why not just push through?
A wasp landed on me during a photoshoot and I didn’t freak out because I was trying to be professional, but let me tell you I WAS DYING INSIDE. I hate wasps – they are the asshole-ist of the winged creatures. Just as I was about to take a shot the dancer I was working with said, “Uh, hey, before you take that picture? There is a huge wasp on you.” I was all breezy and said, “Oh, is there?” And then I tossed my head back and did one of those carefree nature-is-so-quaint laughs. But inside I was all:
My computer died on August 17th. There was no warning, no nothing. I went to edit photos for a client and the computer had died dead. When you are a
lady boss threelancer dope with a newly launched business this is bad news. I did quite a bit of freaking out and spent hours internetting ways to bring it back to life. Guess what? The internet doesn’t know how to fix stuff. Thankfully my primary investor (2.0) decided we should buy the best replacement computer ever which may have had something to do with all the crying and pacing and snotting I was doing over everything we own. But honestly? There’s no way to be sure.
Related: I had to buy two new pairs of glasses and a cell phone last month. We replaced our sewer main and got new gutters for the house. Someone did a dent and run number on the front end of our new car so we have to get that fixed, and we’re planning to get a new furnace because our current model is from the 80s. In other words: we’re spending money like we’re the goddamned Kardashians!
On August 19 – thanks to the disgusting humidity that is summer in Nova Scotia – the smoke detector that is wired into our upstairs ceiling started screaming at about 7:30 AM. At 7:31 AM I learned that there was no reset button on the detector. By 7:32 AM I was deaf and Dorey was freaking out. By 7:33 AM I had solved the problem:
2.0 was not particularly happy that I solved the problem with a pair of wire cutters, but I DID WHAT I HAD TO DO TO PROTECT OUR DAUGHTER.
Speaking of furry family members, my parents got a new puppy in August. Her name is Neave and she likes to bite my toes. Related: my parents haven’t slept since August 13.
I got to see my idol, David Sedaris, here in Halifax. To be clear: I didn’t run into him. He did a reading so I paid a lot of money to see him. Kardashian!
Can we talk about this commercial? Because every time I see it I lose my goddamned mind. I actually stop whatever I’m doing and shout at the television. Please pay attention at the 0:29 mark because that’s the part that makes me very, very upset.
Why not both? WHY NOT BOTH? Do people still buy hot tubs? What year is it? And this pair of freaks wants TWO? Jesus. These jerks are planning to spend their retirement as either a) swingers, or b) friendless sadsacks. There is no in-between. Please tell me you hate them as much as I do.
Hurricane Dorian hit Halifax as a post-tropical somethingorother on September 7th and basically shut the city down for a few days. We spent several hours in the basement with the blinds shut so I couldn’t watch the massive tree in our front yard threatening to destroy our house. It was a real mess – trees down, power outages, school cancellations. Kids were roamin’ all over the place, climbing over toppled trees and playing with downed power lines. No-one stopped the kids because summer vacation was over and there is an unstated rule that once school has officially started we don’t have to care about what children are doing outside.
On September 8th 2.0 walked into the living room and announced that Dorey’s middle name is Elizabeth. This came as a surprise because I had asked 2.0 on 4.7 million other occasions if Dorey had a middle name and the answer was always: no, don’t be ridiculous.
People keep sending me links to articles from media outlets that require subscriptions like they think I’m a goddamn billionaire who can afford to rip down the paywalls on 23 different news platforms. Not gunna happen, dumbasses. I’d rather spend my money on candy.
Sometimes people tell me stories that begin or end with, “Now don’t you go writing this on your blog!” I do my best to reassure those people and keep my face as neutral as possible because I’m thinking: you clearly believe you are far more interesting than you actually are. Jesus, Doris, none of my readers care about Brian’s affair with that guy he met at jiu-jitsu class.
Family barbecues and visits, long weekends, the start of another year in the dance studio, 2.0’s birthday, Thanksgiving. Man, a lot has happened since we last talked. When I become a twolancer I’ll have a lot more time for writing.
Remember last year at this time when I had that terrible injury and couldn’t walk and was off work for six weeks? Well, after three pain-free months of summer it came back as soon as I went back to teaching. Not as bad, thankfully, but damn. And guess what? My sister has a similar crippling injury right now. Thanks, genetics! Normally I wouldn’t care that much about my sister’s suffering but I’m extra worried because we’re GOING TO FRANCE NEXT MONTH.
Yup. My sister and I are going to France to visit our brother and his family but also to spend a couple of days together in Paris. Jimmini jillickers, I’m excited! I haven’t been to France since 2005 and this time I’m getting my damn picture of the Eiffel Tower and I don’t care if I have to drag Haddy on a rope behind me.
Also, there’s a good chance I’ll get lost on either the way over or the way back from my European vacation so… it was nice knowing you.