Josh and I sometimes walk in the evenings. We don’t keep it up all year because we’re so lazy. Like so lazy. But every once in a while, we pull our shit together and throw on a pair of sneakers and walk around the block. When the kids were little, we brought them along. When they grew up, we used those walks as a time to get them comfortable with staying alone. And now, they are a chance to talk without little ears listening to everything we say.

Those little ears seem to keep the exact same wakefulness hours as we do, giving us very little time to talk out things without someone interjecting, “Hey, what do you mean when you say…” outside the kitchen door.

Quartz had a post about the term “solvitur abulando,” which means “it is solved by walking.” Meaning, when you get moving, your brain also chugs along and helps you process emotions and problems that feel bulky and overwhelming while you’re sitting. And it’s totally true. I do feel better after a walk, at least, emotionally, even though I equally dislike being outdoors. But walking inside just doesn’t cut it. Except when I walk in place to see everything on Wuhu Island.

Which hasn’t happened in a long time. I feel like I need to go visit that place.

If I owned an enormous warehouse, I would convert it into an indoor beach track. Like it would be an indoor track, but I’d put sand around the track and a wave pool and even crabs scuttling across the floor. It would be awesome.

The Roundup will be back next week, but I’m taking another break. (Again, please add great posts you read in the comment section, and I’ll pull them in next Friday’s Roundup.)

The last Virtual Lushary was in 2013, over six years ago. (Jump over there and enjoy the comment section, too!) We used to have them regularly, and then they became a dribble, and then they finally dried up. But I’m opening the door with the traditional Lushary welcome:

It has been a long time since we’ve caught up.

So pull up a seat at the virtual bar and fill us in on what has happened in your life recently. And if this is your first time at the bar, introduce yourself. We promise not to haze you.

It has been awhile since we met, bitched, cried, comforted, and caught up each other on our cycles and lives. Pull up a seat and I’ll pour you a drink. Let everyone know what is happening in your life. The good, the bad, the ugly. My only request is that if a story catches your eye, you follow it back to the person’s blog and start reading their posts. Give some love, give some support, or laugh with someone until your drink comes out of your nose.

I have a ton of assvice in my back pocket and as a virtual bartender, I will give it to you unless you specifically tell me that this is simply a vent and you do not want to receive anything more than a hug.

So if you have been a lurker for a while (or if this is your first open bar), sit down and tell us about yourself. Remember to provide a link or a way for people to continue reading your story (or if you don’t have a blog — gasp! — you can always leave an email address if you’re looking for advice or support. If not, people can leave messages for that person here in the comments section too). If you’re a regular at the bar, I’ll get out your engraved martini glass while you make yourself comfortable. And anyone new, welcome. I’m glad you found this virtual bar.

For those who have no clue what I’m talking about when I say that the bar is open, click here to catch up and then jump into the conversation back on this current post.

So have an imaginary cocktail and tell us what is up with your life.

It’s the fourth of July tomorrow, which is always an interesting time in DC and even a more interesting time during election season. We don’t go downtown anymore for the fireworks because it takes so long to get off the Mall afterward. I feel like fireworks in DC are either for the young or the well-connected who have access to a rooftop deck. Those of us who are not young and don’t do well in big crowds and do not have access to a shmancy rooftop deck are better off sticking to small town activities.

I am excited because an old friend is coming for the fourth next year. So… yeah… 365 days from now, but still.

For everyone outside the US, happy Thursday. For everyone from or in the US, happy fourth. Hope you have something good planned.

I wrote about this last week, and thought I’d present the other side. People who don’t appreciate finding themselves (or aspects of their life) in someone else’s book. The New Yorker covered this recently, too:

I realized that the real world is full of people who, presumably, have feelings about being appropriated for someone else’s run at the Times best-seller list … When an author plants a made-up character in a novel, that character gains breath, agency, life. But when an author plants a real person in a novel, she metes out a kind of death … Is moving someone down the existence scale from “human person” to “character” anything like murder? Is moving someone up the scale anything like art?

Whoa.

As in, by fictionalizing, you flatten the person, you turn them into a character which is always two-dimensional (or maybe three-dimensional at best) whereas a human is four-dimensional and super-complex.

The article is about Susan Choi’s Trust Exercise, which was on my TBR list, as well as the author’s own experience finding herself in the pages of someone’s book, her life fictionalized. It begs the question: who owns a story?

The person who lived it? The person who observed it? The person who heard about it? If I heard your story and feel moved by it, can I write about how I feel (and by default, tell your story)? Is it only your story if you’re the only one in it? Once there is a second person in the story, do you no longer own the whole thing?

Big questions without clear answers.

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

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Back in college, my friends and I had a bad movie club. Everyone went to the video store and chose what they thought would be the worst movie. And then we’d watch them back-to-back all night, and vote at the end over who had done the best job choosing the worst film. This is how I saw four of the nine Children of the Corn movies.

Bad films are in the eye of the beholder. People hate my favourite film: Jeffrey. Maybe it’s not my favourite film anymore, but it was for a very long time, and it’s exactly for this reason: catharsis. I cry so hard watching that film/play. I was horrified when someone labeled it a bad film. Bad film? It is my favourite film. How can it be bad? I feel the same way about Love, Actually. I know it makes some people throw up in their mouth, but I love watching it every winter.

Spill: what is your favourite “bad” film?

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Are you also doing #MicroblogMondays? Add your link below. The list will be open until Tuesday morning. Link to the post itself, not your blog URL. (Don’t know what that means? Please read the three rules on this post to understand the difference between a permalink to a post and a blog’s main URL.) Only personal blogs can be added to the list. I will remove any posts that are connected to businesses or are sponsored post.