“What did you think of the ENT?” Crankenstein asked when she called on her lunch break. “He was nice, I guess, but it seemed like he might be a jerk,” I replied. There was nothing in particular I could point to — he’d been perfectly professional and I respected the subtle ways he assisted the […]

I’d just taken a seat in the PT’s waiting room when my phone buzzed: “Unknown Caller,” the screen read, and I sent it to voicemail. The garbled transcript said to please to call the ENT’s office. My guess was there’d been a waitlist snafu, since my August appointment had recently been moved up to the

This evening I purchased a set of hiking poles that I’d rather lose in the abyss of our coat closet than actually use, so I can answer in the affirmative tomorrow if the PT asks whether I’ve given it any thought. I’m supposed to carry one (or both) on longer walks, or if I have

Today I took my new label maker for a spin and it was an experience beyond anything I could’ve imagined in the early ’90s, when my dweeby hand-cranked red Dymo I.D. was the height of organizational glamour and sophistication. “Make me one!” Crankenstein requested as I clicked through dazzling options for adjusting the font, size

If I were in a better mood, I might spend the evening ranting about my deep and total hatred of Hillbilly Elegy — a book whose popularity offended me more than any bestseller in recent memory — and its odious author, J.D. Vance. But tonight I’m still congested, still can’t taste or smell, and to

Carlos Alcaraz successfully defended his Wimbledon title today, just five weeks after winning Roland-Garros and barely two months after turning 21. Last year’s victory over Novak Djokovic was an almost five-hour endurance test; today’s 6-2, 6-2, 7–6 (4) affair was a drubbing until Alcaraz anxiously squandered triple championship points at 5-4, giving Djokovic the chance

Here it is, the post no one’s been waiting for, and it’s mostly just photos: four months of (movie-only) library borrows. There were two or three weeks when I forgot to take photos, but it was more of the same: pre-Code, noir, screwball, Warner Archives. I was going to do write-ups for each batch until

Is everyone ready for the premiere of Faye, the Faye Dunaway documentary, on HBO tomorrow? It will also be available on the Max streaming service, which is how I’ll see it if our (temporary) subscription’s still valid. I’m quite excited about it, and I was reminded of Dunaway earlier after an awkward run-in with Tom

The week is almost over and it feels as though I’ve done nothing but cough and nod off on the couch. Wimbledon is momentarily too painful to discuss following Donna Vekić’s heartbreaking semifinal loss to Jasmine Paolini, and I can’t craft anything suspenseful or amusing from some recent basement mishaps that served as superfluous reminders

“I’m afraid of how you’ll answer, but are you familiar with Bibleman?” I asked Crankenstein this evening, when she didn’t recognize Willie Aames on Eight is Enough. There was no way her parents let her watch Charles in Charge reruns, which my mom, a former Scott Baio fan, caught in syndication in the early ’90s.