I am eating peanut butter again. For a while I was getting tired of the ground-peanuts bulk kind, since the paste and oil tend to separate easily and you need to refrigerate it. After scanning the prices, I got Earth Balance peanut butter from Wheatsville. It's no stir and contains flaxseed oil (yay!) and agave syrup. It isn't as delicious as Jif, but it's also much healthier, so it's a win. The only ingredient that made me hesitate was palm fruit oil- is that the same as palm oil, what's responsible for the destruction of rainforests and murder of orangutans? I think it is. Boo. Here's an in-depth review.
Earlier this week, I was so tuckered out from running around town figuring out car details that I would be exhausted upon returning home. It finally put me on the same page as B, as all I wanted to do was zone-out and watch TV. And I happily did so without balking. But now that I'm back to the daily light grind, I'm antsy all over again. Wanting to accomplish much in the evenings to make up for my relative inactivity in the daytime. It's not ideal, but is B's intensive work any better? Sure we all need time to relax after work, but I worry that he may not have enough energy for anything else. Like future kids, for example. And hobbies! : /
Speaking of hobbies, I am surrounded by a legion of talented crafters. They're all stay-at-home moms with young kids from the Vox community. I started hanging out with them because they were the wives of B's friends, and they are pretty cool. Because of them, I picked up crocheting this summer. It wasn't weather appropriate at all! Some of them are in the business of making stylish headbands- I bought a couple for Christmas presents. I'm currently about to start making my first quilt. B's mema (grandmother) is a lifetime quilter, and I never thought I would be up to the task after seeing her gorgeous creations. I still don't really think I can do it since it requires a good deal of precision and repetition, but T invited me to try out her old Singer machine. We will see how that goes. B drove me to a good quilt shop up north for a pattern, but it turned out to be extremely complicated, so I plan on a stitching square blocks together, checkers-style. She also makes purses and cycling caps, and they look good. For a while I let myself feel anxious that I wasn't creating this much this well, but I've realized that I'm not super crafty, and that I shouldn't put irrational expectations on myself to be like other people. Maybe when I'm a bored stay-at-home mom will I be more motivated to get crafty, but right now, I'm content to dabble. No guilt in that.
On Sunday night, post-Antichrist, we went over to the newish 24-hour coffeehouse, Bennu, to meetup with E. It was roomy and had a nice deck area, but I had forgotten that coffeehouses in Austin are prime locations for people watching. The moment I stepped in the door I felt so many pairs of eyes on me. It's really stupid! I didn't really care, but I was guilty of doing this when I was a student. Ultimate representation of urban isolation, a deep desire for connection, and inaction. The tantalizing fantasy of a person or group that never materializes, or is a let down when it does. I hate it when places are scenes to be seen at. It has always made me uncomfortable, and while I previously tried to assimilate, I feel like I can freely reject it now. This environment is partly responsible for the proliferation of 30 and 40 year old adolescents in this town, as you are forced to feel self-conscious because of the ever-present Gaze. Felt similarly at Mohawk last Friday at the crowded Balmorhea show. We went because they are our friends and we really like their music, but it irked us that people had paid admission to stand around and talk over the music. It was a cold night, and I was just wearing my raincoat over a fleece for warmth. Being stylish in the cold is way too much effort for me, but that wasn't an issue for everyone else there. Bleh. The last vestige of my connection to that world is my Moscot glasses, and I've been thinking about getting new ones anyway. Tired of having strands of hair getting painfully caught in the hinges.
Song: Loney, Dear - Harsh Words
Vintage French Kids’ Clothes
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