“When one week closes… something about a window”: Ideas for a Better Week

The week has its eyes on you.

Signs Last Week was Rough

  • You catch yourself pondering the best methods of barricading your office door with empty coffee cups and hoarded highlighters from the supply room. Answer: ditch both and use your office mate’s desk chair instead. Where will your office mate sit? He’ll stand. Sitting is bad for you. How do you get your office mate on board? Yell, “GIMME THAT DESK CHAIR! IT’S IMPORTANT!”
  • Writing poetry in your head about how punching coworkers is bad (I have a small and sneaking hunch, that my coworkers, I should not punch)
  • The highlight of your week was trying out a new grocery store. Things they had: a special section for gravy boats, “fashion flyswatters,” a garlic sauce called “the pink stuff,” that was bubble gum pink, very confusing, and on sale.
  • You cried reading a story about Obama calling one of his staffers when her cat died to express his condolences. 1) To my credit, it was a lovely, heartfelt story about a president being kind, and we haven’t had one of those in awhile; 2) the book was Who Thought This Was a Good Idea by Alyssa Mastromonaco, and if you’re a woman in any leadership role, I think you should read it; and 3) I don’t even like cats very much. That’s how lovely this story was.
  • By the end of the week, every time your work phone rang, you yelled a prolonged, “NOOOO!”

The pink stuff in question.

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Respect My Journey: The Art of Mah-Crammie

In much the same way a person decides to have Mexican instead of Italian for dinner, Wisconsin finally decided it was time for Spring.

With a “yeah, I guess that’s fine.”

Though given the fact that my spirit animal is a fish taco, I’d say those people need to learn about proper dinner choices, and how it was never a choice to begin with.

Wisconsin Spring is a cruel dance that entices you with shoes that aren’t boots and clothes that don’t include down or fleece and drives that don’t require you to make deals with God as your car won’t really stop because of the ice, and then rips it away from you like a tornado. But like…a tornado you wronged. You were like “don’t worry, tornado! I’m definitely going to bring you some Mexican food for dinner.” And then you forgot because you wanted to see what happens next on Grace and Frankie, and by the time you remembered, the tornado was already mad because it had to eat applesauce and noodles because that’s all we had in the apartment.

And that’s the exact amount of metaphorical drama Wisconsin Spring deserves.

Also, I’d like to have Mexican food for dinner. 20 metaphorical bucks to whoever can make it happen. Not metaphorically.

For about a month, Wisconsin has been swinging back and forth between almost-beautiful Spring, and almost-freezing rain.

And let’s face it, that easily cracks the top ten worst types of freezing rain.

But this week, it seems finally, finally, Spring has arrived. 

Wisconsin heard our complaints and gave a “all right, fair enough. Here’s some sun.”

And with it, the grand reopening of my patio. You see, I call it a patio. It’s more of a cement patch. I’m like Brer Rabbit and his Carrot Patch, but less trickery and 100% more Herbert.

This is Herbert. He’s mostly useless, but he tries hard.

But I love my weird little cement patch. Once Spring decides to linger, my pots and plants and marginally green thumb and my will to live come out and I try my hand and growing things. I’ve had this patio for three Springs now, and this year will be my fourth. And each year my garden grows a little taller and a little less embarrassing.

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Paint too Proud to Beg: The Art of the Useless Sartorial Paint Splatter

Every now and again, life catches up with me.

When the work-induced sighing reaches its peak. When, if you listen closely, you can hear my left-eye-twitch asking, “have you considered yoga or like, not so much cheese? I’m working a full time job, here.” When the mere sight of the neighborhood Quiznos gives you claustrophobia-stomachache, and when I remember I have loans and will never be able to take a year-long Eat, Pray, Love trip around the world to center myself, I do the next best thing.

I go to Milwaukee for the day and hope for the best.

For those who have never been to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, it’s pretty cool.


I could tell you about the Milwaukee Art Museum, a small, but well-curated and creative institution right on Lake Michigan that houses and designs some of the most creative exhibitions I’ve ever seen. I could tell you about the Milwaukee Public Market, where you can get a meal, then a drink, then coffee, and then buy kitchen things for your kitchen because you always forget that you’re out of kitchen space. A person always needs more kitchen toys.

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