Monday, February 29, 2016
Leap
Took the car in, and they sent us to a competitor. Which has the strange effect of earning them more trust. We did take car to their recommended mechanic, who needs to keep it, and we got on a bus home. The code was for an Air Flow Sensor Out Of Range, whatever that could mean. Glad I don't have to get to work this week.
Leap day. Mind the gap.
Addendum: We joked that it was the Check Engine Light indicating that the Check Engine Light wasn't working. Apparently, that is more or less exactly what it was. A glitch. No charge.
Sunday, February 28, 2016
Begone
Denise over for a party, started washing forks. "Oh, you're just like my friend, never enough forks, have to start washing in the middle!"
Said nothing, but... I had plenty of forks, all clean, no need to start washing. Hated her assumption, but left behind the argument. Irks me that she assumed, never asked, never checked. Just because I'm not a joyous cook doesn't mean I lack utensils. I had a friend who only had three spoons and three forks, no kettle, no idea what she did when she had anyone to dinner, if she ever did. I refrained from asking her. I'd asked her once about the kettle, but didn't prolong the question.
(How does one manage without a kettle?)
At a friend of Dylan's. He brought out beer and Pym's, which I'd never tasted. He gave me a thimbleful in a glass, then poured himself a full glass. I asked for a bit more, which he reluctantly did, but I wish I'd poured my mite into his glass and told him "Nevermind, since you obviously don't want to share" and refused his hospitality further, since he obviously didn't actually want to give me any.
Mother angrily berated me for how I was clearing the kitchen table of crumbs. I was perhaps ten years old, doing it as best I could figure out for myself. "Who taught you to do that?" I said nothing, but I wish I'd said, dripping with sarcasm, "I don't know, who was supposed to teach me, mom?"
Woman I worked with, aghast that anyone could not know how to make an omelette. I stayed silent, but, no one ever showed me. I struggle to make scrambled eggs to this day. Some of us are not taught.
How can we know, if no one ever showed us? If we had no idea who to ask, avoiding those who assumed it as an essential of intelligence, when it's simply ignorance? Why do people assume without asking? Why be stingy when trying to look generous? Why accuse and deny and dismiss? Why all the damn contempt? Why? Why do these demons still haunt me?
Maybe because I wish we'd just said no to Dylan's parents offer of birthday at a restaurant. I didn't want to go, not there. Food I have to be in the mood for, and I wasn't. Then... complications, then failure. Wish I'd said No to start with, since I kinda knew.
Begone foul creatures!
Said nothing, but... I had plenty of forks, all clean, no need to start washing. Hated her assumption, but left behind the argument. Irks me that she assumed, never asked, never checked. Just because I'm not a joyous cook doesn't mean I lack utensils. I had a friend who only had three spoons and three forks, no kettle, no idea what she did when she had anyone to dinner, if she ever did. I refrained from asking her. I'd asked her once about the kettle, but didn't prolong the question.
(How does one manage without a kettle?)
At a friend of Dylan's. He brought out beer and Pym's, which I'd never tasted. He gave me a thimbleful in a glass, then poured himself a full glass. I asked for a bit more, which he reluctantly did, but I wish I'd poured my mite into his glass and told him "Nevermind, since you obviously don't want to share" and refused his hospitality further, since he obviously didn't actually want to give me any.
Mother angrily berated me for how I was clearing the kitchen table of crumbs. I was perhaps ten years old, doing it as best I could figure out for myself. "Who taught you to do that?" I said nothing, but I wish I'd said, dripping with sarcasm, "I don't know, who was supposed to teach me, mom?"
Woman I worked with, aghast that anyone could not know how to make an omelette. I stayed silent, but, no one ever showed me. I struggle to make scrambled eggs to this day. Some of us are not taught.
How can we know, if no one ever showed us? If we had no idea who to ask, avoiding those who assumed it as an essential of intelligence, when it's simply ignorance? Why do people assume without asking? Why be stingy when trying to look generous? Why accuse and deny and dismiss? Why all the damn contempt? Why? Why do these demons still haunt me?
Maybe because I wish we'd just said no to Dylan's parents offer of birthday at a restaurant. I didn't want to go, not there. Food I have to be in the mood for, and I wasn't. Then... complications, then failure. Wish I'd said No to start with, since I kinda knew.
Begone foul creatures!
Caulk
Despite yesterday, I woke with cheer and energy, eager to get out and rake and dig and turn compost. Got two whole bins worth of leaves off the front garden, and into the back compost area. Seeing the grasses green, crocuses peeking out slightly, as well as last years horrible weeds (now uprooted with a passion) gives me hope. The warmth helps too, although I'd prefer a solid month of rain. The compost needed turning, a lot of preservation when I needed rotting, but such is winter. Good couple of weeks, and I can sift it for soil.
I'm afraid the verge is going to have a huge crop of sunflowers this year. Which isn't a bad thing, they really seem to heal the soil. But, well, they also get a bit out of hand. Interesting, if too much of a good thing.
Scraped at the windows, realized I needed to wash them well before caulking, not to mention painting. Every job is made up of any number of little jobs that need to be done first. The visible caulk was from the last bit of warm in November, when I noticed the windows looked like they might fall out. Now, for the rest of that job.
Spring, and a middle aged woman's fancy turns to saying "what a mess!" and getting out the broom and rake and lots of water.
I'm afraid the verge is going to have a huge crop of sunflowers this year. Which isn't a bad thing, they really seem to heal the soil. But, well, they also get a bit out of hand. Interesting, if too much of a good thing.
Scraped at the windows, realized I needed to wash them well before caulking, not to mention painting. Every job is made up of any number of little jobs that need to be done first. The visible caulk was from the last bit of warm in November, when I noticed the windows looked like they might fall out. Now, for the rest of that job.
Spring, and a middle aged woman's fancy turns to saying "what a mess!" and getting out the broom and rake and lots of water.
Saturday, February 27, 2016
Dive
How it feels, from the inimitable Shorpy.
Got a lot done today, but the family lunch fell apart. Late lunch at a very popular restaurant on Saturday meant a crowd and a wait, that triggered an impending wave of anxiety for me. Dylan sympathetic, we made our apologies, and got home via train. Sharp winds, despite the warm (65˚F)sun, not cold but unsettling. I'd eaten ahead, knowing I wouldn't make it, Dylan more used to a late lunch, hadn't, crashing by the time we were half way home.
Calmed down not long after as I got out to rake the front garden, still need to drop that on the compost tomorrow. Scraped at the one front window, since we got paint this morning. Laundry done. Some winter to summer clothes exchanged.
Tending to my poor hands.
Catsoup made, cats contented. They are getting on better, daily chasing about, sitting near each other. Taking turns at the window.
Just the first day of vacation, which is reliably unreliable for me. Fewer flashes waking me, still somewhat disruptive. I think this is why I'm remembering dreams, as my sleep melts in thin spots, the dreams show through.
Friday, February 26, 2016
Welling
Vacation.
No travel, which drained of enjoyment for me a few years ago. Not so much tired, as tired of my work, and the people I work with. Thumb fissures refusing to heal, cold sores erupting this week. Worries deepening. More dreams of having to find a new apartment, horrible toilets, having to convince my waking self that I have a House. Perhaps some part of myself remains homeless and rootless.
Maybe why I prefer not to travel, maybe that was the search for Home, and now feels like abandoning my home. And a clean bathroom.
My parents' bathroom occasionally stank of sewer, a dank stink of a (probably poorly installed) toilet. I didn't understand where the odor arose from, only that it nauseated and repelled.
We have tickets to a play. We plan on go-karts. The "check engine" light came on, so Monday we get the car in for diagnosis. Dylan's parents asked us to lunch tomorrow, for his brother's and my birthday (one day apart). Which is fine, nice people, and good food, and I have the whole week to feel appreciated.
Dylan finding a slew of wonderful art history documentaries from the beeb for us to watch. Janina Ramirez, Waldemar Januszczak, Mary Beard (and her wonderful grey hair), Dan Snow, Andrew Graham-Dixon. He does it for me, but he's come to enjoy it all as well. Meshes our mutual interests rather well.
Warm day, 60˚F 15C. Hopefully rain tomorrow. Winter not entirely over, but a burst of mountain spring. Sadly dry. But there is time yet for rain, even snow, and my inner gardener hopes.
A week away from the grind, and I try to wade into peace, anxiety welling, then draining.
No travel, which drained of enjoyment for me a few years ago. Not so much tired, as tired of my work, and the people I work with. Thumb fissures refusing to heal, cold sores erupting this week. Worries deepening. More dreams of having to find a new apartment, horrible toilets, having to convince my waking self that I have a House. Perhaps some part of myself remains homeless and rootless.
Maybe why I prefer not to travel, maybe that was the search for Home, and now feels like abandoning my home. And a clean bathroom.
My parents' bathroom occasionally stank of sewer, a dank stink of a (probably poorly installed) toilet. I didn't understand where the odor arose from, only that it nauseated and repelled.
We have tickets to a play. We plan on go-karts. The "check engine" light came on, so Monday we get the car in for diagnosis. Dylan's parents asked us to lunch tomorrow, for his brother's and my birthday (one day apart). Which is fine, nice people, and good food, and I have the whole week to feel appreciated.
Dylan finding a slew of wonderful art history documentaries from the beeb for us to watch. Janina Ramirez, Waldemar Januszczak, Mary Beard (and her wonderful grey hair), Dan Snow, Andrew Graham-Dixon. He does it for me, but he's come to enjoy it all as well. Meshes our mutual interests rather well.
Warm day, 60˚F 15C. Hopefully rain tomorrow. Winter not entirely over, but a burst of mountain spring. Sadly dry. But there is time yet for rain, even snow, and my inner gardener hopes.
A week away from the grind, and I try to wade into peace, anxiety welling, then draining.
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
Roofing
My black iris is returning, this year it will have a protective cage.
Scrubbed the bathroom floor this morning. Then sorted the hell out of the narrow closet. Always the neglected space, catchall, mess. Have never really organized it, shifted slightly, cleaned the bottom occasionally. This, though, this was serious Organizing.
Roof guy came for us to sign the contract. Half new roof second week of March, weather dependent, gutters and vents and all. The way he'd presented it, we hadn't realized the gutters were separate, and therefore not part of the Solar Panel installation financing arrangement. No real problem, we had the tax refund, and were holding it until we knew what additional costs came up. Because there are always additional costs for any project like this.
I'd hoped to take care of some of the outdoor painting. Not going to be able to do more than scrape and paint window frames this year. Ah, well, a start.
He was WAYYYYY more concerned about 'appropriate' and 'matching' colors than we ever will be or ever were. We realized after he left just how many million dollar homes and young couples with "dream home" aspirations, he deals with. (As opposed to our expectations as renters dealing with apartment management/maintenance.) Since we are not any of that. We're happy to have a house - at all, and think ours is beautiful, and prefer mismatches and wabi-sabi esthetics.
Still, gotta appreciate where he's coming from, and his professionalism and pride in his work.
Waiting on historic district permits, hopefully won't take much longer. If we are online by May, we're calling it good. June is running late, but fine too.
Sunday, February 21, 2016
Thankyou
Lynne Murphy is a linguist, American ex-pat, talking here about perceived rudeness US/Brit. The lighting is weird, but she's fascinating.
None of the photos I tested showed me as having RBF, but I think I often do in life. My father certainly thought I did, as I was accused of all kinds of anger and pouting as a kid, when all I was doing was thinking.
His birthday today, as he rots. Well, no, he was cremated. Either way, out of reach and past my caring.
Cats running around madly all morning. We kept our feet up and tried not to impede the game. Moby took to his bed with a certain look of "I'm out. She can keep on." Which she did, mewing until I chased her, until she let me catch her, barely squeaking when I picked her up for a cuddle. No purring, but she seemed to enjoy. She's not a big purrer, although she's purring more and more.
Moby has always been much more clearly communicative, and has gotten quite articulate over the years together. Eleanor is still working on the idea of WHY she should communicate with us, despite being quite talkative in her own language. Our relationships evolve and settle.
"It's all about the food...
... well, and the massages."
None of the photos I tested showed me as having RBF, but I think I often do in life. My father certainly thought I did, as I was accused of all kinds of anger and pouting as a kid, when all I was doing was thinking.
His birthday today, as he rots. Well, no, he was cremated. Either way, out of reach and past my caring.
Cats running around madly all morning. We kept our feet up and tried not to impede the game. Moby took to his bed with a certain look of "I'm out. She can keep on." Which she did, mewing until I chased her, until she let me catch her, barely squeaking when I picked her up for a cuddle. No purring, but she seemed to enjoy. She's not a big purrer, although she's purring more and more.
Moby has always been much more clearly communicative, and has gotten quite articulate over the years together. Eleanor is still working on the idea of WHY she should communicate with us, despite being quite talkative in her own language. Our relationships evolve and settle.
"It's all about the food...
... well, and the massages."
Saturday, February 20, 2016
Options
Emu
Who knew an emu would cavort so?
Down to two guys over for the comic-discussion evening. I hung out a bit more, after a while, because, well, with only four people total, me reading off in a corner seemed weird. Good guys, I like 'em. The initial organizer, who forgot last month, was very ill with a coldflu this month.
"I think he's imaginary."
They assured me he wasn't, although they liked the idea that maybe he was imaginary, became real, and maybe he's fading back? Who knows?
Many incidents lately have me thinking about fandom, from sports to comics, music and movies/tv, video games. Many, many friends, and innumerable cow-orkers, have been fans of some sort, Star Wars, Star Trek, John Denver, Grateful Dead, Red Sox, Steelers, AC/DC, J.R.R. Tolkien, Marvel, Avengers, the list goes on. I've had my enthusiasms, of course. Crippling Tetris addiction for a couple of years. But they've tended to be flirtations and crushes, not commitments.
Or, as with Pratchett and TMBG, long lived friendships. Yes, I know pretty much all the words for all the songs on a couple of TMBG's records, been to a half dozen of their concerts, but I don't own all the albums have out. As for Pratchett, I never could read all the way through Eric, for instance. And we don't have all his books, either.
I like my cultural touchpoints, and I'm impressed by those who take theirs in and become experts. But I don't filter everything through them.
Although.
Maybe I do, as everything is a song cue in my head, and They tend to cover more niches than any band ever. And Pratchett has a wide ranging field of wonderfully quotable passage. Maybe I seem as much of a fan as others seem to me.
I have drawn away from shows because their most devoted followers take it much too far for my comfort. Seems to become their Faith, to include or exclude the Good from the Other. Which mattered a great deal when I was young and not much included in anything, so I stayed open to whatever passions gushed around, without ever feeling the same belief. Most were glad to have a listening ear, and I got enough splashed on me to appreciate and hang around. Good to have a shared data set to chat about.
Dilettante me, back to my core inability to join or believe, instead tending to linger and doubt. Can't help but notice the holes in systems, distrusting perfection, aware of flaws. Fans who welcome joshing are a lot of fun. Standing in the doorway, egging them on, I'll do that.
Down to two guys over for the comic-discussion evening. I hung out a bit more, after a while, because, well, with only four people total, me reading off in a corner seemed weird. Good guys, I like 'em. The initial organizer, who forgot last month, was very ill with a coldflu this month.
"I think he's imaginary."
They assured me he wasn't, although they liked the idea that maybe he was imaginary, became real, and maybe he's fading back? Who knows?
Many incidents lately have me thinking about fandom, from sports to comics, music and movies/tv, video games. Many, many friends, and innumerable cow-orkers, have been fans of some sort, Star Wars, Star Trek, John Denver, Grateful Dead, Red Sox, Steelers, AC/DC, J.R.R. Tolkien, Marvel, Avengers, the list goes on. I've had my enthusiasms, of course. Crippling Tetris addiction for a couple of years. But they've tended to be flirtations and crushes, not commitments.
Or, as with Pratchett and TMBG, long lived friendships. Yes, I know pretty much all the words for all the songs on a couple of TMBG's records, been to a half dozen of their concerts, but I don't own all the albums have out. As for Pratchett, I never could read all the way through Eric, for instance. And we don't have all his books, either.
I like my cultural touchpoints, and I'm impressed by those who take theirs in and become experts. But I don't filter everything through them.
Although.
Maybe I do, as everything is a song cue in my head, and They tend to cover more niches than any band ever. And Pratchett has a wide ranging field of wonderfully quotable passage. Maybe I seem as much of a fan as others seem to me.
I have drawn away from shows because their most devoted followers take it much too far for my comfort. Seems to become their Faith, to include or exclude the Good from the Other. Which mattered a great deal when I was young and not much included in anything, so I stayed open to whatever passions gushed around, without ever feeling the same belief. Most were glad to have a listening ear, and I got enough splashed on me to appreciate and hang around. Good to have a shared data set to chat about.
Dilettante me, back to my core inability to join or believe, instead tending to linger and doubt. Can't help but notice the holes in systems, distrusting perfection, aware of flaws. Fans who welcome joshing are a lot of fun. Standing in the doorway, egging them on, I'll do that.
Thursday, February 18, 2016
Tortoise
Since I do hate to disappoint you, a snapping turtle.
Front powered through, 1130, 56˚F. At noon, 32˚F. Snow, graupel - sideways thrown.
By the time I headed home at 1630, sun out 40˚F, everything melting.
This is February in Salt Lake. Wham, bam, whoosh, melting.
Glass bird feeder broken. We will watch for another, later. But then, there will be sunflowers for birdies. This is what 75mph wind gusts will do.
Front powered through, 1130, 56˚F. At noon, 32˚F. Snow, graupel - sideways thrown.
By the time I headed home at 1630, sun out 40˚F, everything melting.
This is February in Salt Lake. Wham, bam, whoosh, melting.
Glass bird feeder broken. We will watch for another, later. But then, there will be sunflowers for birdies. This is what 75mph wind gusts will do.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Turtles
The roof, needs some tlc. Not a complete overhaul, thankfully. And the most needful, least recently reshingled, is the part under the solar panels - which would have needed doing anyway. The roof co. is separate from, but works with the solar folks for financing arrangements. So, the cost can be wrapped in, and spread out, and will count toward the tax rebate.
All in all, not in bad shape, just need upgrades, particularly the south side. They are adding gutters, which will solve a number of other extant issues of dripping and icing on the side porch and shared driveway. They will also add appropriate venting, making the house easier to cool in the summer heat - which has been another issue.
So, we move along. Once done, when we are looking at reduced income, power bills will be covered.
This has been a concern we've had to put aside, which bothers. Knowing we can get it all done in one fell swoop feels really good.
Taking care of House.
All in all, not in bad shape, just need upgrades, particularly the south side. They are adding gutters, which will solve a number of other extant issues of dripping and icing on the side porch and shared driveway. They will also add appropriate venting, making the house easier to cool in the summer heat - which has been another issue.
So, we move along. Once done, when we are looking at reduced income, power bills will be covered.
This has been a concern we've had to put aside, which bothers. Knowing we can get it all done in one fell swoop feels really good.
Taking care of House.
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
Romance
Ed said "I do" at the right moment and we danced, of course. Far more emotional than I ever expected!
Massachusetts cousins. Ed has dementia, is in a sheltered facility, has adapted well, which has been harder on her. On Valentine's Day, they had a vow renewal ceremony for some of their residents, so cousins joined in.
Read her email this morning, tears in my eyes. And now.
Love and grief, two sides of the same coin.
*My cousin Elizabeth deals with her new life with her beloved going through dementia. Dear Ed I have loved from the moment I met him, and would still hug him firmly without reserve. Brave and loving people, smart about getting assistance, seeing it as part of the journey. My mother could barely bring herself to tell me about Elizabeth's divorce from her first husband, so when she married Ed, there was deafening silence. I met him at my Uncle Walt's funeral, and fell in deep and abiding love. Met him again 20 years later, and he greeted me as a long lost child, and I him as a long lost uncle. And Elizabeth looked just the same, as cousins often do. D had no idea about cousins, until them. But he felt the welcome just as surely, and we both are enriched by cousins, if not any family closer than that.
Monday, February 15, 2016
Hypotenus
That's much better. Sun came out, briefly, nearly warm. Well, I felt warm, but that's not to be trusted.
So, Dylan took Moby out. Which he enjoyed, especially since the snow is gone.
And I put on my mud boots, and stacked the rocks back up. Made me feel so much better.
The main materials for the raised bed didn't seem so small, on second look. I may put it in the near front, instead of the verge. Blackberries, perhaps. Although I'll have to net it if I want any of the fruits, since the birds are legion.
Vacuumed two rooms, swept and shook and tidied. Made cat-soup*, since Dylan picked up turkey thighs on his morning walk. A dull but useful day.
*Soup made for, not of, cats.
Presidents
President's Day. Like we needed that.
Washington, for all the good that ultimately came out of his actions and ideals, was a slave owner. He went along with All Men are Created Equal, but as Sarah Vowell says, none of them really believed it. Let's not even get into the Jefferson neuroses.
Bunch of romantic teenagers who wanted Utopia, without really thinking that through and applying it to their own lives. Or the women in their lives. God forbid.
Anita Hill has been suggested as a SCOTUS appointee. That would be poetic, and just.
Pollution is up again, if not quite as badly. Still raining a little, which helps.
Slept through, mostly. Woke up cranky, with the furnace going on and on. For no good reason, since it really isn't that cold today.
Let Moby out a little yesterday since the air was tolerable, not that he lingered long.
Need to get stuff done today, not drift uselessly like most of yesterday, full of restless evening. Not quite warm enough to work out of doors. Set up two small pallets I scrounged for another raised bed, with the hypotenuse board, which looks like a very tiny bed. Waffling on what to do with that, call it good or add another side. The triangle appeals, twice the size will mean a lot more dirt shifting. Then figure out what to plant inside. Blackberries, likely, if only to keep smokers from leaving their butts in it, at least not without drawing blood from them as well.
Want to vacuum, but the cats are snuggled down, so we wait. Nothing as peaceful as watching our cats sleep.
Very mixed feelings, too hot, too cold. Dylan sitting on the small stool because Moby has his desk chair.
Washington, for all the good that ultimately came out of his actions and ideals, was a slave owner. He went along with All Men are Created Equal, but as Sarah Vowell says, none of them really believed it. Let's not even get into the Jefferson neuroses.
Bunch of romantic teenagers who wanted Utopia, without really thinking that through and applying it to their own lives. Or the women in their lives. God forbid.
Anita Hill has been suggested as a SCOTUS appointee. That would be poetic, and just.
Pollution is up again, if not quite as badly. Still raining a little, which helps.
Slept through, mostly. Woke up cranky, with the furnace going on and on. For no good reason, since it really isn't that cold today.
Let Moby out a little yesterday since the air was tolerable, not that he lingered long.
Need to get stuff done today, not drift uselessly like most of yesterday, full of restless evening. Not quite warm enough to work out of doors. Set up two small pallets I scrounged for another raised bed, with the hypotenuse board, which looks like a very tiny bed. Waffling on what to do with that, call it good or add another side. The triangle appeals, twice the size will mean a lot more dirt shifting. Then figure out what to plant inside. Blackberries, likely, if only to keep smokers from leaving their butts in it, at least not without drawing blood from them as well.
Want to vacuum, but the cats are snuggled down, so we wait. Nothing as peaceful as watching our cats sleep.
Very mixed feelings, too hot, too cold. Dylan sitting on the small stool because Moby has his desk chair.
Sunday, February 14, 2016
Scrounge
Snow, freezing fog, pulling down particulates, filtering air. Not enough to scrub it all clean, but much improved.
Took down the prayer flags. Ever since I read about the issues with Tibet and their religion(third item at link), I've been seeing the flags as something other than a benign and NiceIdea-bit-of-decoration. Gently re-thinking it, and today decided I wanted another meaning. My own part in cultural appropriation bothers me enough to change. I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing, it provides a lot of cultural groups an income for their handiwork, when they are the ones designing, making and getting direct benefit from their arts. No regrets, but... I want another expression of hope and beauty on House.
As you know, I think about these things.
Like, I used to enjoy having angels in my philosophy, they were my heritage. Decided quite a while back that they were apologists, even as jokesters decorating the edges. Probably mostly harmless lingering catholicism, but in cleaning out to the corners and edges, I've no room for such dust bunnies and cobwebs. I held on, I think, because they provided a familiar aroma, breadcrumbs leading back to a place I might still need. Like hanging on to outdated clothes unworn for many, many years.
Wore the tb mask when we went out yesterday, which might have helped a bit.
Moby came to sit on my lap this morning. Eleanor hopped to the stool, sniffed at him, settled at my feet. I was becatted. Such an improvement over the first few years, when Eleanor would have bopped him, and/or he would have stomped off in a huff. Moby really looking better too, not the muscle-bound bruiser he once was, no longer the frail cat of several months ago. New diet evidently what he needed. Still giving him laxative once or twice a week, based on scat count. He is not fond of it, but tolerates.
Repapered the lamp shade. A half-assed job, enough though.
Feeling an intense need to look at pretty things. The urge to dig and plant and clean is upon me, if not fulminant. Changed the lightbulbs in the bedroom ceiling to LEDs yesterday, which meant sweeping the floor. Which meant I tipped over the humidifier, puddled up under bedding and maybeI'llwear clothes, and ruined my pillow. Had to stop procrastinating, to mop the whole room thoroughly, shifted out a pile of clothes I will never wear again so will dispose of. The pillow, a real tempurpedic from long ago, a brick of neck comfort, soaked at the edge. Opened the cover,and it's crumbling, badly. Time to change. Slept without it last night, which was uncomfortable, must adjust.
So, some of you are crafty, any suggestions for something I could make to hang across the porch? And most importantly, how? Preferably using found items I already have or could scrounge?
BTW,
If you read and want to comment on an old post, that's just fine.
Took down the prayer flags. Ever since I read about the issues with Tibet and their religion(third item at link), I've been seeing the flags as something other than a benign and NiceIdea-bit-of-decoration. Gently re-thinking it, and today decided I wanted another meaning. My own part in cultural appropriation bothers me enough to change. I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing, it provides a lot of cultural groups an income for their handiwork, when they are the ones designing, making and getting direct benefit from their arts. No regrets, but... I want another expression of hope and beauty on House.
As you know, I think about these things.
Like, I used to enjoy having angels in my philosophy, they were my heritage. Decided quite a while back that they were apologists, even as jokesters decorating the edges. Probably mostly harmless lingering catholicism, but in cleaning out to the corners and edges, I've no room for such dust bunnies and cobwebs. I held on, I think, because they provided a familiar aroma, breadcrumbs leading back to a place I might still need. Like hanging on to outdated clothes unworn for many, many years.
Wore the tb mask when we went out yesterday, which might have helped a bit.
Moby came to sit on my lap this morning. Eleanor hopped to the stool, sniffed at him, settled at my feet. I was becatted. Such an improvement over the first few years, when Eleanor would have bopped him, and/or he would have stomped off in a huff. Moby really looking better too, not the muscle-bound bruiser he once was, no longer the frail cat of several months ago. New diet evidently what he needed. Still giving him laxative once or twice a week, based on scat count. He is not fond of it, but tolerates.
Repapered the lamp shade. A half-assed job, enough though.
Feeling an intense need to look at pretty things. The urge to dig and plant and clean is upon me, if not fulminant. Changed the lightbulbs in the bedroom ceiling to LEDs yesterday, which meant sweeping the floor. Which meant I tipped over the humidifier, puddled up under bedding and maybeI'llwear clothes, and ruined my pillow. Had to stop procrastinating, to mop the whole room thoroughly, shifted out a pile of clothes I will never wear again so will dispose of. The pillow, a real tempurpedic from long ago, a brick of neck comfort, soaked at the edge. Opened the cover,and it's crumbling, badly. Time to change. Slept without it last night, which was uncomfortable, must adjust.
So, some of you are crafty, any suggestions for something I could make to hang across the porch? And most importantly, how? Preferably using found items I already have or could scrounge?
BTW,
If you read and want to comment on an old post, that's just fine.
Saturday, February 13, 2016
Monitor
No idea how bad the air is, since the monitor dropped off last night. So, either the air is miraculously perfect all of a sudden, without wind or storm front, or something broke. Or someone accidentally flipped the wrong switch, and no one is in the office until Tuesday.
Mucky. Most of that is not fog.
The Solar folks arrived on Wednesday, early, which pleases us. Admired the House (as well they should) as well as the attic - which has a window, adequate insulation, and best of all, has adequate access.
In the hall closet, which we cleaned and cleared of all but the step ladders and vacuum.
They also liked the electrical infrastructure. Having their guy check the roof. If repairs are needed, that can be added to the monthly payments, so we again, won't have to come up with a chunk of change. Roof guy comes by next Wednesday.
Leek is making progress. Next month, I'll replant it outside.
Paying attention in their own ways.
Eleanor rather snotty, sat on my chest at 0300, kept shaking her head and spraying nasal excretions all over me. Charming. Also purring a lot, so what can I do?
Reading Sarah Vowell's Lafayette in the Somewhat United States and wishing she'd written it when I was in 8th/9th grades in 1976, and all we studied in history was the Revolutionary War. Had one really good history teacher in there, one that wasn't, but it was so much of a muchness. This, though, this is juicy and controversial and complicated and MEATY. Not to mention sarcastic and funny. Dylan found the audio book, which we are also listening to.
I adore Vowell's voice. It's crusty and flavorful.
Mucky. Most of that is not fog.
The Solar folks arrived on Wednesday, early, which pleases us. Admired the House (as well they should) as well as the attic - which has a window, adequate insulation, and best of all, has adequate access.
In the hall closet, which we cleaned and cleared of all but the step ladders and vacuum.
They also liked the electrical infrastructure. Having their guy check the roof. If repairs are needed, that can be added to the monthly payments, so we again, won't have to come up with a chunk of change. Roof guy comes by next Wednesday.
Leek is making progress. Next month, I'll replant it outside.
Paying attention in their own ways.
Eleanor rather snotty, sat on my chest at 0300, kept shaking her head and spraying nasal excretions all over me. Charming. Also purring a lot, so what can I do?
Reading Sarah Vowell's Lafayette in the Somewhat United States and wishing she'd written it when I was in 8th/9th grades in 1976, and all we studied in history was the Revolutionary War. Had one really good history teacher in there, one that wasn't, but it was so much of a muchness. This, though, this is juicy and controversial and complicated and MEATY. Not to mention sarcastic and funny. Dylan found the audio book, which we are also listening to.
I adore Vowell's voice. It's crusty and flavorful.
Friday, February 12, 2016
TB
Air still terrible. Found a tb mask, left over from we were sized, at the bottom of my locker. Wore it home. My eyes are still stinging, but my lungs aren't feeling worse for the trip. Not that I have that far to go, only five miles, all downhill.
Felt terrible yesterday, sinus focused, eventually manifested as an atypical migraine. No way to call in sick on a five room day, and it's not like I felt any worse there. As the day wore on, and J was available to relieve me, I agreed rolled home. Took more drugs, slept, and by morning felt better.
There is a definite flow to migraines, with or without headaches, with or without vomiting. Always worst when they start in the wee hours. The ones with little pain or nausea still fuck with my head and body. And fade out in the late afternoon, early evening, leaving me washed out and buzzing.
I crawled in bed at 1930, slept through.
I wonder if the persistent hot/cold flashes triggered this one, in part? Not sleeping well, unless I take benedryl & melatonin, and even then, I wake a few times a night. I wouldn't mind them but for that. I wake up, then start feeling hot, flick off blankets, doze again, wake freezing, pull blankets back up. Often, I wake up, feel the heat, THEN hear the furnace switch on, so it's not because the room is overheated.
Yeah, I know, whine, whine, whine.
Monday off, long weekend. And Monday is Half-Price Chocolate Day.
Random previous post link.
And another random link.
Spoon!
Felt terrible yesterday, sinus focused, eventually manifested as an atypical migraine. No way to call in sick on a five room day, and it's not like I felt any worse there. As the day wore on, and J was available to relieve me, I agreed rolled home. Took more drugs, slept, and by morning felt better.
There is a definite flow to migraines, with or without headaches, with or without vomiting. Always worst when they start in the wee hours. The ones with little pain or nausea still fuck with my head and body. And fade out in the late afternoon, early evening, leaving me washed out and buzzing.
I crawled in bed at 1930, slept through.
I wonder if the persistent hot/cold flashes triggered this one, in part? Not sleeping well, unless I take benedryl & melatonin, and even then, I wake a few times a night. I wouldn't mind them but for that. I wake up, then start feeling hot, flick off blankets, doze again, wake freezing, pull blankets back up. Often, I wake up, feel the heat, THEN hear the furnace switch on, so it's not because the room is overheated.
Yeah, I know, whine, whine, whine.
Monday off, long weekend. And Monday is Half-Price Chocolate Day.
Random previous post link.
And another random link.
Spoon!
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Suck
Long ago, and far away, Dylan picked up Moby from the Boston Animal Rescue League shelter. His assessment of Moby's attitude was "I'm not going to suck up to you, but could you get me outta here, dude?"
Nothing much has changed over the years, except that we kept our part of the bargain. A minute ago, Moby went to get in my lap, decided not to, I picked him up for a hug, and he returned the hug, then jumped away. Enough is enough, apparently. He is not going to suck up to me. I respect that.
They don't post enough, but Terrible Real Estate Photos does amuse.
Grey and murky day. Air downright chewy. Not as bad as Beijing is not enough.
Nothing much has changed over the years, except that we kept our part of the bargain. A minute ago, Moby went to get in my lap, decided not to, I picked him up for a hug, and he returned the hug, then jumped away. Enough is enough, apparently. He is not going to suck up to me. I respect that.
They don't post enough, but Terrible Real Estate Photos does amuse.
Grey and murky day. Air downright chewy. Not as bad as Beijing is not enough.
Solarized
Air no good.
I hesitated to say anything, but since all seems to be progressing, there seem little point. We have an opportunity to go solar, without the up-front $10K+ investment. A local/regional company decided to modify the car buying system. Buy now, when you need it, pay us on a monthly bill.
No payment for 12-18 months, based on tax rebates for green improvements, which will cover the bulk, with monthly installments after to them instead of a similar amount to coal-fired power company. And they do "bumper-to-bumper" service, check the roof, electrical, permits (complicated by us living in a Historical District*),albeit a low rent one (Central City), 25 years guarantee and maintenance, monitoring. They went through the rigorous process of solar panels for Real Salt Lake's soccer stadium, so they are legit and reliable. Local electrical power company has been raising rates madly, so jumping now is our best bet for later.
Still net-metering, because the batteries needed to go completely off grid are just not up to snuff... yet. We are in a good location, good roof angle, not too many trees. They came to check said roof this morning. So far, so good. They like our attic, for one. We had the closet with attic access cleared on Saturday, nothing in there but the vacuum and a couple of step ladders.
So far, they have behaved like our beloved real estate agent. There is a sense of professionalism and genuine caring. We could be wrong, and have certainly considered that we might be being suckered, but so far, so good. Laid our bets, taking our chances. A real pro, though, has pride, and reputation, which is worth gold.
And yes, Auric, like Auric Blowfeld. Gold, Au. Hoping they aren't supervillains. Seems unlikely. Just our paranoia acting up.
Air terrible today. More incentive to keep going with this. One less thing. Blog full of links, too.
Blechghth.
*The Historic District thing was not mentioned when we bought the house.
Tuesday, February 09, 2016
Sunday, February 07, 2016
Warm
The heating pad is not on. The sun is.
Dirt in the pot outside, and brought it in, baked it(200˚F, 20 minutes.) Keeps down the bugges and fruitflies. Growing wheat grass for cats, a leek, and seeds from a mix from traderjoes meant for eating, but I want to see if I can grow them. If they don't germinate, that's fine, I'll add them to my breakfast cereal.
Next week is looking the busy I expected from the past week. Catch you on the flipside...
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