Friday I'm In Love: Anipal Edition

Friday again! I am in love with:

- Slightly warmer weather
- Slightly lighter evenings
- The free juicer I got from someone's doorstep
- Earplugs

I am also permanently in love with animals because, come on, ANIMALS. They are gross and smelly and violent and weird and cute and cuddly and pure. There are no animals in the world right now having anxiety about writing a blog post, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Other animal things I am grateful for:

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Winter. Time to eat fat
and watch hockey. In the pewter mornings, the cat,
a black fur sausage with yellow
Houdini eyes, jumps up on the bed and tries
to get onto my head. It’s his
way of telling whether or not I’m dead.
If I’m not, he wants to be scratched; if I am
He’ll think of something. 

- Excerpt from "February" by Margaret Atwood

How did I not already know about this poem? It's not really technically 100% about animals so much as about February misery and . . . the biological imperative? And casual internal rhyme. And spring. And Margaret Atwood. Seriously: how was this not on my radar.

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Did you know that a group of ladybugs is called a "loveliness"? Here's a print to help you remember.

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OTTER HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!#^&$(*#$@)

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"Chinese pangolins cannot speak human language fluently, but each is born with the ability to whisper the words 'Frozen blood for the sleeping god' in any language."

Pangolin Facts: A good Tumblr about pangolins, or the BEST Tumblr about pangolins?

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Animals riding animals is wicked cute, even though I'm pretty sure at least 30% of these pictures are actually of animals attacking/attempting to kill/eat other animals. (Not the one of the lizard riding the kitty with a saddle, though. That one is legit.)

(Semi-related: This article analyzing the picture of a weasel "riding" (i.e. attacking) a woodpecker was included in my employer's daily news roundup last week. Because a) inquiring minds want to know, b) my workplace is bosser than yours, and c) WE DO IT ALL FOR THE WEASELS WOODPECKERS ANIPALS.)

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An oldie but a goodie: Animals Being Dicks.

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Filed under "too little, too late": Ringling Brothers to retire its elephants. In three years' time. But not any other animal performers. And they would like a pat on the back please for being such important stewards of endangered species. Sigh.

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The headline says it all: Luxury Stockholm Hotel Brought to Its Knees By 'Angry' Badger*

*Bonus points to Jezebel for the sarcasm quotes on "angry." Badger: YOU DON'T KNOW ME.

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Rescue dogs are using their poop-smelling prowess to track & help conserve endangered species (including WHALES so think long and hard about that, everyone). THIS PICTURE IS EVERYTHING.

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This is a picture of my dog's nose

And finally, *sniff* An Open Letter to My Dog After the Birth of My First Child. The end of this article = YEP. <3 Indy <3

Regret Olympics

Recently a friend and I were discussing how successful we would be if regret were an Olympic sport. This probably should have been a sign that it is time to do some hard emotional work, but instead I chose to spend a stupid amount of time imagining what the Regret Olympics would look like. Guess how I feel about doing that!

Anyway, enjoy, I guess.

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Welcome one and all to the thirty-third annual Regret Olympics! The opening ceremony will now commence with a collective discussion of what went wrong with last year's opening ceremony, who is to blame, and how that is ruining everything forever. Once we all feel appropriately regretful about all past activities, as well as rueful about engaging in this new discussion at all, the ceremony will conclude.

Festivities will be followed by competition in the following events:

Regret Long-Jump: Participants take turns leaping to more and more outragous conclusions about their self-worth after regretted actions. Did you make a mistake at work? You're clearly the most incompetent person at your organization! Everyone knows it, and they talk about it all the time. Miss an opportunity to be there for a friend? Don't worry, you were never a good friend - people only hang out with you out of pity, when they hang out with you at all. Did your parenting choice not work out as expected for your child? Clearly you're the worst parent in the universe. It's just you, Joan Crawford, and Jack Nicholson in The Shining. Congratulations! Participants are judged on the level of fantastical detail provided in each devaluation scenario, and the amount of sand-spray produced during landing.

Downhill Regret Slalom: Like snowballs, participants hurtle down a mountain collecting more and more outlandish anticipated consequences for recent mistakes. Every parenting mistake is bringing you one step closer to either a) accidentally killing your kid or b) raising a psychopath. A simple work error is definitely going to lead to getting fired, which will lead to bankruptcy, which will lead to living in your parents' basement in your mid-thirties. Did you snap at your partner in a moment of hangry weakness? Get ready for a trip to divorcetown! Unlike in standard slalom events, participants gain points for each time they plow heedlessly through a "gate" of realistic thinking. Warning: Downhill Regret Slalom pretty much always ends with at least one bone-crushing accident. Factor in recovery time accordingly.

Retro-regret luge: Select an irrevokable action from your distant past and climb aboard the sled of selective memory and hypothetical future! Ride the dips and curves of how awesome your life -- and the lives of those around you -- would be now and forevermore if only you had/hadn't done x, y, and/or z. If you had just nailed that one job interview, your career would be so much more advanced by now! You could totally already own that tastefully minimalist mid-century mansion you saw on that one blog by now if only you were better with your money in your twenties. And if only you had known the right thing to say that one time, you would have more friends and love in your life than you can possibly imagine! Isn't it fun to daydream? Participants gain points for staying completely prone while contemplating missed opportunities for perfect happiness, and lose points for noting all the glaring flaws on the course.

Partners Regret Dancing: Feel bad about something that wasn't entirely your fault? Grab your decision-making partner(s) and pull them into a spectacular shame spiral with you! Judges determine the winning pair/group based on synchronization of shared misery, relative danger of regret-induced choreography choices, and number of sequins per outfit. Dance programs should be performed with sharp blades strapped to feet; ice is optional.

Regret Marathon: Reserved for long-term, ongoing regrets. Participants spend 4+ sustained hours expounding upon the ways in which their actions/failures impact themselves and others negatively. Points are awarded for depth of feeling, willful ignorance of the passage of time, denial of all positive messages from body/brain, and relative shortness of running shorts. Bonus points are awarded for shitting your running shorts. This event is also known as the Regret Filibuster, or, if you're me, "Sunday night, 3 am."

Regret Decathalon: All of the above, but while holding a javelin.

And, finally:

High Dive into the Pool of Forgiveness: This is a mandatory closing ceremony for all participants who have competed in at least one Regret Olympics event. Participants climb ladders of their own despair and then plunge courageously into the deep, healing waters of self-compassion. All are advised to wear comfortable bathing clothes that are well-suited to revelations about the false promise of perfection, and the inherent worth and dignity of each and every human. Belly flops and cannonballs are welcome.

Friday I'm In Love

Hello friends! It is Friday. I am in love with:

- Wool socks
- My dog romping in snow
- Not dealing with daycare for two whole days
- Egg salad with sriracha

Also:

Compliments. They are the key to EVERYTHING. (h/t to Julie!)



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This month I discovered the Tumblog of John Darnielle (of the Mountain Goats). It is strange and fabulous, as one might expect. A recent post in which Darnielle advises a fan about matters of faith embraces the paradox of agnosticism in a lovely and affirming way:

"You don’t have to apologize to yourself or anybody else if you like to pray, or attend services, or observe feasts/holidays/saints’ days/etc. There is no requirement that you believe. Do you enjoy praying? Does it connect you to something — maybe something within, maybe something beyond, maybe to a community whether that’s in real space or a broader community out there in the world? Then pray! Do you have a nagging feeling that your prayers ascend into an empty sky? Me too! Who cares!"

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Ever wonder where that italicized quip over the soft-focus picture that you found on Pinterest actually came from? Quote Investigator can help! With proper citations, of course.

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The website Oscar for Channing actually makes a kind of compelling argument. Or at least a pleasant afternoon read.

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John Hodgman recommended Arthur Bradford's weird little short story "The Box" on his Tumblog* THAT IS ALL. The story is at once both otherworldly and deeply mundane, and it has wandered back into my brain several times since I first read it.

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Sigh. Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal strikes again with a depressing truth-bomb about elections.

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The title pretty much sums it up: Uncomfortable Heterosexuality in Art History. (Thanks to MWC!)

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"When at long last the day of work is through,
I'll always aim to find my share of joy.
I'll walk within the sun's enliv'ning rays
for girls just want to have some fun within their days."

Cyndi Lauper, bard style. C/o Pop Sonnets.

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You look really great today. Have an awesome weekend.



*listen I really like the word "Tumblog" and I will not apologize for it. Pointless internet portmanteas: I know that the world is a cold and careless place, but know that you are loved.

Use Their Words: You Can't Carry It With You

As usual, we had nothing to fear. And in saying that, I mean: we have everything to fear. Death is slated for us all. And maybe it is years from now, in a soft bed, surrounded by the soft eyes of the people that we love. Or maybe it is not so many years from now at all. We have every reason to be afraid. But, we also need to learn to put that fear aside, like a library book. Sometimes we need to check out our fear, and read it, and study it, and peruse it closely, but at a certain point return it to its proper shelf and experience something else. Contentment. Worry. Calm. Hunger. Spinal parasites. And, a great deal of love, of every kind. So put that fear in a place where you can find it when you need it. Don’t carry it with you. Don’t carry it with you.

- Welcome to Night Vale, The Librarian (live at Skirball)