Afallenvenusian - A Fallen Venusian
More Posts from Afallenvenusian and Others
May 12, 2025
The weekend was good to me.
My mother and I celebrated Mother's Day at our favorite Spanish restaurant, over garlicky grilled octopus, glasses of crisp Cava, and a flurry of Formula 1 yapping. She's been brave enough to watch the 2021 season (I refuse) and couldn't stop marveling over Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton nearly killing each other several times over on track.
We've had our ups and downs. As she nears retirement age, I can accept that she's a great mother now for whatever she lacked in my childhood. It doesn't erase the bad, or make up for it really. But I have to give her the chance to be good to me now, so should I have to care for her at some point in the future, I can do so out of love. Not bitter obligation.
Saturday was spent out and about in my neighborhood. In the morning, I took my cheap Vivatar digicam to the Farmer's Market while I sipped coffee and people watched.
It reminded me of sitting on the porch as a kid. Hearing loud music from cars thumping up and down the block, watching neighbors tend to their yards.
Stopped home for lunch then headed back out for a quick glass at my Neighborhood Wine Bar. As Mike (the grumpy owner who's become an adopted uncle of sorts) poured the last of a Sancerre he’d sampled with other customers that afternoon, he remembered the name of a woman who accompanied him last time he went to Croatia. “It was Kathleen,” he said. Apparently, one of his other frequent travel companions had to refresh his memory.
(Michael and his travel companions are a long story. For now, just know this man is a 71 year-old Gemini who, up until recently, had a solid roster of eight to nine women, all at least 15 years younger than him. And I know this to be true because I saw them all at his 70th birthday party, hanging out like sister wives.)
Seeing that Mike was kind of over it for the day, I jaunted over to a new Italian spot I've been meaning to try out. And had — hands down — the best mussels I've ever had in my life. The broth was... good lord. I had to order some Focaccia on the side to make sure I didn't waste a drop. The bartender was so amused by my theatrics (listen, I love good food and am not shy about it), she comped one of my two glasses of wine.
I will definitely be back.
Next month. For the rest of May, we have food at home.
May 9, 2025
I'm easily inspired. I'm learning to accept it.
I spent most of 1992 wanting to be Catwoman after seeing Michelle Pfeiffer in Batman Returns (look it up kids). My notebooks from the 2000s echoed the metaphors and similes I absorbed via Big, Jay, Nas, and the like. I spent three days with my sister-in-law last year and heard her Southeastern Ohio/West Virginia twang in my voice the week after.
I don't even do it on purpose. I have a clear sense of self and yet, at the big age of 41, I'm as impressionable as I was in 1992. 'Tis what it is.
Why did I feel the need to say that?
Oh. Because thanks to Human Design, I see that's just how I am. I can fight it or I can learn to ride the waves that flow out of me without shame.
The latter sounds more fun.
That's a lot of preamble, but I needed to clear my throat for what I really want to do today: dispense some age-old wisdom like the elder millennial auntie I am.
(incoming....)
Reluctantly cheering on Max Verstappen outracing two rocket ships in a literal tractor.
*Insert Paul Rudd "Look at us" gif*
