The Fluffbucket Diaries

Down to my last couple of Korean instant coffee packets. Hoping to squeeze in an H Mart visit this week to replenish my stockpile.

Now I know why they sell these things in boxes of 100.

Our first attempt at kolacky looks like a murder scene – and then we put powdered sugar on them.

F: “Now it looks like a murder scene in winter.”

Hello, Amazon customer service? I’d like to register a complaint.

Good morning. Here’s a gratuitous photo of our cat Raymond watching a ballgame, which I wish I was doing right now. ⚾️🐱

THERE IS NO MALTESE IN THE NATIONAL DOG SHOW. Why am I even bothering to watch this, then?

I’m not a soccer (sorry … I mean football) follower, and I understand that this year’s World Cup is particularly toxic.

But part of me really wants to go back and watch those Japan and Saudi Arabia upset games. ⚽

I have not missed frosty mornings.

Been on Twitter longer than my daughter has been alive. But I’m gonna have to find new sources for breaking baseball news, which for me is the only thing it’s been good for.

Between here and Mastodon (@garciabuxton@home.social), I’m getting as far from Space Karen as I can get.

After a very long but grueling week off to help family on the West Coast, it’s odd to look at a day off tomorrow back here at home and think, “Oooh, I can go to bed early tonight. Woo-hoo!”

Ironic to look up the address for a parking garage and have Google Maps tell me “Parking is usually not easy near this destination.”

I don’t think this is what the Church had in mind for the season of Advent.

This year for Halloween, F dressed as Luz from “The Owl House.” That cloak from last year’s Ren Faire came in handy.

Gratuitous cat photo.

CCD student wisdom of the day: “Adultery is when a kid tries too hard to be an adult.”

Finally done with one half-bushel bag of apples from last weekend’s orchard picking. Apple crisp, plus apple butter in the crockpot. Two more bags of apples to go.

PTO time, Day 1: Preparing for Days 3-5, when I plan to hole up alone in a cabin in the woods with books and tea and notebooks, hopefully surrounded by wandering deer. At the local library deciding which of these to actually check out. I could be here all day.

The husband after a weeklong work trip to Sioux Falls, S.D.: “I listened to more Kid Rock than I have in the last 5 years.”

Picked up this trinket last weekend at a local “comic-con” (basically a small field house at the county fairgrounds stuffed with cosplayers and pop culture merch). Can’t think of a better place for this than my home office.

It’s here! My humble little Hobonichi Weeks shipment has arrived.

As I mentioned to a friend this week, the whole Hobonichi planner thing can be kind of a cult (in a major pen-and-stationery geek kind of way), and I was away from it for a while. But in a fit of pique over my worsening issues with time management—combined with my revived commonplace journal hobby—I’m back.

Maybe I should have splurged on one of the cooler limited edition covers or some of the other accessories available. But I expect this one, in the clear plastic cover I got with it, will be quite packed and covered in photos and other decor before I’m done with it.

And if anyone can explain that quote on the shipping box in the last pic, let me know.

Twitter is good for at least one thing: giving our cat a gratuitous platform for … something.

I just spent a good 5 minutes explaining to my daughter the concept of “jumping the shark,” even noting with perverse old-person pride that I actually saw the “Happy Days” episode involved when it first aired.

My parenting work is done.

F’s weekly D&D session was canceled this afternoon, so we hit the local “comic-con” at the county fairgrounds. She added to her plushie collection; Helena approves.

Why yes, I bought a #HobonichiWeeks planner from Japan a week ago and am entirely too excited about the fact that it’s finally shipped.

“Look Mom, another bowl of fruit!”

Time for a last-minute culture fix for Labor Day, the last day of the Cezanne exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago.

How I start a holiday weekend: tucked in with a cat, a pile of reading material, and a ballgame.