Observables #70

on terrifying sinks, the new Gilmore Girls and my new side hustle

My nephew wandering in and out of my kitchen looking for snacks. At one point he comes back and mutters, “That sink is terrifying.” I start to laugh and my giggles are intermittent for the rest of the night. My sink is terrifying. Ha!

In my defense, I have a white sink, and it’s hard to keep clean. Also, cleaning is idiosyncratic (even Marie Kondo is now finding her joy outside of cleaning) and sometimes I do everything but the sink. But that doesn’t make it less terrifying.

A white sink full of salad bits and meat chunks can have a horrifying appearance—like the garbage bag by the dumpster that has split open and is oozing say, I don’t know, a wet wig. Your stomach can’t help but do a few turns. Now make that feeling up close at your aunt’s house because you were oh so innocently filling your plastic water cup…ahhhhh! So my nephew is NOT WRONG.

Terrifying could be the word. Then why is it funny to me?

Is it a child naming something so aptly for himself? Is it cathartic because he is seeing what I do on a regular basis: terrifying housework? Or is it him combining “horror” with “sink,” which makes for a perfect oxymoron that the writer and maker in me can’t turn away from.

Now that’s all I want to write about: horrifying sinks and the people that come upon them.

The bubbly remake of Gilmore Girls. Yes, it took us a long time to finish eight seasons of Gilmore Girls and yes, we were very excited to get to the sequel with our bowls of ice cream in hand.

Result: Disappointment. Chagrin. Mortification. All the words. Elsie was yelling at the TV, “Make it stop!”

It was possibly a combination of the acting that had deteriorated because of hyped up nerves to make it “as good,” lost spontaneity, faces weighed down by life and wrinkles (honestly, it happens to us all!) and the material that had lost its signature frippery. Lorelai and Emily have a nasty fight in the first 20 minutes that I’m still sad about! Whatever it was, the babbling and silly mannerisms didn’t do it for any of us and frankly, felt incongruous against the updated plot lines.

Or maybe we’re just done with the bubble.

Obviously my green winter jacket. I was at a networking event and a woman said, “I like the colour of your jacket” and I said, “Feel it! It’s so soft.” She was like, “um…” and she did…feel it, but I could tell she didn’t really want to. Too much. I’m often surprised at what is too much in a conversation. But then again my boundaries seem to be different from others. Softer.

Side note: I do have opinions on fashion. I’m taking questions. So if you need a stylist, I’m here for you. Seriously.

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