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I bought a bread machine from Facebook Marketplace.

Ian and Chino both made fun of me about it in separate but near-identical conversations in typical fashion of a couple together for going on seven years. 

It looks like a tiny space shuttle. I picked it up after work from a very pleasant older gentleman. 

My uncle found me a used one when I was in high school. It was kind of busted and I'd have to fish out the metal spinner from where it'd detach and get lost in the loaf. I did not tell him this. 

I enjoy making bread more than I enjoy the resulting bread itself. But, I think it is fun.

My niece always enjoyed making slime. The times she convinced me to join her when she was younger I did begrudgingly. I can't stand the texture. She does it pretty often still and I refuse to touch it. 

I'm not entirely sure why because bread dough feels pretty similar when you start kneading it by hand and I like that.

If anyone wants subpar homemade bread (at best, mad science experiments at worst), hit me up.

Mr. Worldwide

One of the things Ian and Chino gifted me for my birthday (I am 24 now as of Friday) was a pair of socks with pit bulls on them. 

They're my favorite kind of dog. The pit bull isn't a breed itself but a group of several similar breeds.

I've always really loved dogs. I'd spend my time as a kid reading books about different breeds and watching videos about them online or training shows on television. 

My cousin Andrea and I were very close growing up and were convinced we were going to open a dog daycare or training center together when we got older. She works as a chef at a restaurant and as a boxing coach at a women's gym now. It's really cool.

My mom asked me recently what or where in my life makes me happiest. My mind flashed to MADACC pretty fast.

MADACC is the animal control for Milwaukee County. Anything that gets picked up as a stray or seized by law enforcement ends up there. Lots of dogs and cats. Sometimes little guys like rabbits, rats, and chickens. Of note, we had a giant pig, a sheep, and an alligator since I started volunteering there last summer.

I don't get myself over there as often as I wish I did, but I do love it when I convince myself to go. I work with the dogs or do community outreach for the most part.

My mom and I stopped by for a little bit yesterday. I got to show her around and we walked a couple dogs.

Panther Pride

I went to the same K-8 school for most of my time in grade and middle school. My brothers went there, as well as a bunch of other family members. Some of my younger cousins are there now. 

That's where I met Ian. He moved to Wisconsin and transferred in when we were in the fourth grade, and the rest is history. 

On Saturday, the school hosted a community event to celebrate its 100th year of operation. Ian and I stopped by together. 

We walked around the playground and did a lap around the school. A giant concrete slab when we were there, since renovated to include patches of green split by gravel paths. Halls that hold years of memories for the both of us, not as much changed.

We approached one of our middle school teachers and had a nice little chat with him. I could see in his eyes that he couldn't place either of us, not that I'd aggrandize myself to assume any of my teachers from there would. (Or if they did, it'd be because my anxiety was extremely unchecked and I was having meltdowns every single day.)

It was really cool to see him. We dearly enjoyed pestering that man when we were his students, and he's someone we still bring up from time to time in stories and inside jokes.

I think teachers take on an interesting role, being people to impact kids for their entire lives in ways they may never fully see or understand even long after they've moved on. Continually forming those bonds and saying goodbye seems really emotionally exhausting. 

Not sure what would have to happen to someone for them to willingly choose to be bullied by middle school students as a career, but I'm glad he did. He was a supportive and positive role model for me growing up. 

Warp & Weft

My skills in textile arts are not good, but they're passable. I can knit, badly. I can crochet, badly. I can hand sew and embroider, badly. Badly, but functionally. 

I got a sewing machine for my sixteenth birthday, and it has sat in its box for nearly eight years because I am intimidated by it. Still, I have a huge love and respect for textile arts because they're so impressive and hold a special place in my heart.

I stayed in the afterschool program sometimes when I was young. I was a kid that was easily overwhelmed, to put it very mildly. It was so loud. I would freak out. 

One of the special ed teachers was a saint and would take me to her room. She'd put on calming jazz music and taught me how to knit when I was eight years old. I made my way through some godawful projects with her before she retired. 

I convinced Ian and Chino to take a weaving class with me through the Milwaukee Public Schools Recreation Department. We had our first class tonight. I've taken it before and had the same instructor.

She's a cool person with gorgeous hair, a keen fashion sense, and tattoos of the heddles of the loom running down her arms. There's a materials fee due at the start of the first class, and I was prepared this time and did not give her ten dollars' worth of quarters from a coin purse I keep in my car like the initial go around. Really good first impression. When you start at rock bottom there's nowhere to go but up, I guess.

In eight weeks, the three of us will walk away with creations. They will be ugly and they will be badly done, but they will exist. As something to lovingly laugh at, as something to remind us of time spent side by side, as a physical representation of someone giving their time to teach us their craft, as a reminder to try new things even if being a beginner can be daunting or embarrassing. Nowhere to go but up, after all.

Maybe I'll bust out that sewing machine someday.

The Joys of Progress

 I'm not going to go into specifics now, but I'm definitely at a crossroads in my life. 

I have a couple big choices to make.

I've been having hard conversations with the people I hold dear, and there are more I need to have. There's a lot of introspection and sitting with myself to be done, too.

Deep in my heart I know what I'm going to do, ultimately. The fact that there's any debate in my mind is enough of an answer for me. It's just a matter of when I'm going to let myself really accept it. 

I've cried a lot. I have to stop myself from making myself nauseous letting my thoughts run in circles.

I'm trying to be brave.

There's growth in discomfort. I know someday I'll be on the other side and grateful for enduring the unease. But man, does actively being on the path suck. 

Stay Gold

My nephew Michael was born when I was in first grade. Yesterday was his 17th (and golden!) birthday. I love that kid to death. It's been a joy growing up with him and watching him become the person he is.

My mom had a party at our place last night. My brothers, my niece Aly, my grandpa, and Michael and Aly's mom, step-dad, and little brother came by.

My grandpa even drove himself over! He had a major spinal stenosis surgery back in April and recovery has been an arduous process for him. It's weird to think it's only been five months. Time seems to crawl and fly in equal measures. 

One of my friends gave my contact information to an agent of a scam-- or, at the very least, extremely predatory-- life insurance company. (...Thanks.) I chatted with the guy for a good half hour in a Zoom call after the party.

I love talking to those guys. I spent forty-five minutes not too long ago parked outside Hayley's apartment building chatting with a representative of what was almost certainly a fake cybersecurity education program. I've done several video interviews with "recruiters" of some of the shadiest job postings I've ever seen. Sometimes I'll call the numbers in phishing emails I get and try to give them pointers on how to be less obviously scams and they get really, really mad.