The Fluffbucket Diaries

For F’s baptismal birthday, I used to get her religious icons or books.

This year? I got her D&D dice that look like wedges of cheese.

Please don’t tell my parish priest.

This is Charlie (also known as Charles Edgar Cheeserton III, or Dipper). He appears to be a beagle/basset mix. Brought him home from the shelter yesterday.

This is as close to a 20th wedding anniversary gift as we’ve given ourselves this week. And Winter the Anxiety Dog has never been happier.

Still thinking about the film “Grey Gardens” as I listen to a “Grey Gardens” podcast and wait for my membership to a “Grey Gardens” Facebook group.

Here’s what I wrote in part to join that FB group (edited):

“I’ve been meaning to watch the movie for years; finally viewed it, and there was an immediate connection, particularly with Little Edie, who I now consider my newest patron saint. It was also triggering, as Big Edie reminds me too much of my own late … mother and Little Edie lives the life my older sister ended up living with her. … I thought (a) there but for the grace of God go I, and (b) my heart breaks for Little Edie as it does for my own sibling.

“There’s certainly many things far deeper than all that in this film, but that initial connnection was my gateway into this wonderful world.”

Little Edie Beale may be my newest patron saint.

I should be prepping for my CCD class this weekend. Instead, I’m finally watching “Grey Gardens,” the 1975 documentary I’ve been meaning to watch for years.

I’m halfway through it and it’s setting off all sorts of triggers. The dysfunction and the squalor and the loneliness is hitting entirely too close to home. And seeing Little Edie’s abusive, narcissistic mother snuff out her daughter’s life is downright killing me.

Even so, I anticipate multiple viewings.

What I’m reading as I watch:

• Little Edie’s Stolen Life (Jezebel)
• “Grey Gardens”: The lost world of Little Edie, still amazing after 40 years (Salon)
• Why Fashion People Love Cult Film Grey Gardens

“I think they’re highly underrated in terms of the zeitgeist,” Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails said in a phone interview. “Devo challenged the idea of what a rock band could be. It felt like rock was mutating. It made me realize, ‘Oh, there aren’t any rules. You know, you can do anything.’”

(Credit: Innsightful_ on Instagram) | More Meme Therapy

My head just exploded.

Posted a list of interests in hopes that the omnipotent Threads algorithm will help me find my tribe there. Not optimistic, but what the hell.

Even if I don’t get a lot of response, it’s still an interesting exercise.

(Credit: onewordwellness on Instagram) | More Meme Therapy

“It’s a good evening to experiment,” we said.

F said the resulting roasted Peep (left over from her Easter basket from months ago) looked like “it has yellow fever.” But she ate it and decided it met more than enough of her sugar quota for her to forgo a s’more.

It’s autumn in the Midwest.

I’m in my late 50s. I do not appreciate stress acne at this point in my life.

(Credit: Dani DiPirro on Instagram) | More Meme Therapy

(Credit: Calm Kabira on Instagram) | More Meme Therapy

I first heard the “Stop Making Sense” soundtrack at my first Daily Titan party in the mid-1980s, and saw the movie at a Greenwich Village midnight showing three times in 1986.

Back then, I had no idea that C and I would take our daughter to see the remastered “Greatest Concert Film Ever” (Spike Lee’s words, not mine, though I would concur) almost 40 years later.

F, who is not generally one for live-action movies, agreed to go after we noted that he had identified as autistic and that he has talked about how that has informed his art. I’m pleased to report that she was more enthused about the movie than I had anticipated.

This may be the high point of my parenting career.

Not proud of myself to resorting to whisper-shouting “Pipe down!” to some of my CCD kids during Mass this morning. Time to chuck the textbook next Sunday in favor of covering basic church etiquette. 😬

“Don’t be more serious than God. God invented dog farts. God designed your body’s plumbing system. God designed an ostrich. If He didn’t do it, He permitted a drunken angel to do it. Empirical facts can add significantly to the meaning of ‘being godlike’." (Peter Kreeft [via Tsh Oxenreider])

Social media sites where I hang out these days (in order of time spent and preference):

1. Threads
2. Instagram (lurking only)
3. Micro.blog (mostly blogging with occasional posts shared with the community)
4. Mastodon (mostly lurking)
5. Facebook (mostly lurking)
6. LinkedIn (mostly lurking)
7. X/Twitter/Elon Musk’s hellhole (lurking only)

(Credit: The Depression Chronicles on Threads) | More Meme Therapy

(Credit: @amandasimplywell on Instagram) | More Meme Therapy

I don’t really post on Instagram much anymore. And I’m not really a fan of “influencers” — unless they’re therapists, brain health experts, career counselors, or #actuallyautistic content producers sharing their perspectives on social media.

I’ve become an avid collector of the IG posts these folks create. Since I’ve yet to be able to book therapy for myself, the encouragement and insight I cull from these — and the kindness of friends — is the next best thing.

So, I’m using part of this space as a commonplace site for the memes I’ve found particularly helpful, or at least thought-provoking. If you find them useful, great, but I’m not necessarily throwing them here for your benefit. I like the idea of having these in one spot where I’ll find them (rather than an app I’ll forget, like Notion, or crowding my phone or “saved” sections of IG). I’ll make sure these memes have the originator or creator’s name on them (and if they’re not on them, I’ll add credit to the post).

You can find these in the Meme Therapy category page.

(Credit: @alvcoaching on Instagram)

How does one deal with raging impostor syndrome? I’ve got it on two fronts, and it’s seriously kicking my ass.

Book and strategy recommendations — and memes — welcome.

The past several weeks of what felt like nonstop work finally caught up with me. Took the afternoon off after catching whatever fluish-but-not-COVID bug kept F home from school.

This is in addition to the weeks of headaches, pain in my left eye and right wrist, 4 hours of sleep a night, abdominal cramps I thought were gone months ago, and a terrible case of imposter syndrome.

A few hours of a refreshing coma should do the trick. Maybe.

Trying to figure out why someone on social media thinks they’re qualified to give life advice just because they have incredible abs in their profile pic.