Afallenvenusian - A Fallen Venusian

"Keep me company... Baby...."

May 8, 2025

Thanks to the Motrin cocktail required to sleep through my cramps last night, yesterday feels like a hazy blur.

I sent the link for my new (private) Substack to four friends. Each was excited to see me writing again, but will they read it? Time will tell. Either way, putting work into the world felt good.

Caught a lecture about the origins of my local art museum last night. As I'm prone to do, I had a friendly chat with a stranger at the bar while I waited for the lecture to begin. Coincidentally, she works in an industry adjacent to my own. We had a few common acquaintances. We also shared deep pride in our city as a cultural hub (Top 10 art museum, Top 8 orchestra, second (or third) largest theater district in the nation — put some respect on our name) and perfect food city. #ClevelandRocks.

The lecture was interesting and informative. A perfectly fine way to spend an evening. By the time I got home, PMS fatigue had your girl down bad. I ended the night with repeat watchings of Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc doing a logistics-themed escape challenge and if I thought they couldn't get hotter, I was wrong. Fine ass race car drivers doing math and problem-solving...

Good lord.

My boss is back from out of town today, ending my emotional reprieve (last week was a week — I needed space). I'm soaking up the silence until he arrives.

Until next time.

Reluctantly cheering on Max Verstappen outracing two rocket ships in a literal tractor.

*Insert Paul Rudd "Look at us" gif*

May 12, 2025

The weekend was good to me.

My mother and I celebrated Mother's Day at our favorite Spanish restaurant, over garlicky grilled octopus, glasses of crisp Cava, and a flurry of Formula 1 yapping. She's been brave enough to watch the 2021 season (I refuse) and couldn't stop marveling over Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton nearly killing each other several times over on track.

We've had our ups and downs. As she nears retirement age, I can accept that she's a great mother now for whatever she lacked in my childhood. It doesn't erase the bad, or make up for it really. But I have to give her the chance to be good to me now, so should I have to care for her at some point in the future, I can do so out of love. Not bitter obligation.

Saturday was spent out and about in my neighborhood. In the morning, I took my cheap Vivatar digicam to the Farmer's Market while I sipped coffee and people watched.

It reminded me of sitting on the porch as a kid. Hearing loud music from cars thumping up and down the block, watching neighbors tend to their yards.

Stopped home for lunch then headed back out for a quick glass at my Neighborhood Wine Bar. As Mike (the grumpy owner who's become an adopted uncle of sorts) poured the last of a Sancerre he’d sampled with other customers that afternoon, he remembered the name of a woman who accompanied him last time he went to Croatia. “It was Kathleen,” he said. Apparently, one of his other frequent travel companions had to refresh his memory.

(Michael and his travel companions are a long story. For now, just know this man is a 71 year-old Gemini who, up until recently, had a solid roster of eight to nine women, all at least 15 years younger than him. And I know this to be true because I saw them all at his 70th birthday party, hanging out like sister wives.)

Seeing that Mike was kind of over it for the day, I jaunted over to a new Italian spot I've been meaning to try out. And had — hands down — the best mussels I've ever had in my life. The broth was... good lord. I had to order some Focaccia on the side to make sure I didn't waste a drop. The bartender was so amused by my theatrics (listen, I love good food and am not shy about it), she comped one of my two glasses of wine.

I will definitely be back.

Next month. For the rest of May, we have food at home.

Note to self: need this on vinyl