Habitat

It's official.  Well, all I had to do was donate and tell them I qualified.  Which I do, in my small way.  My only new responsibility is to keep a shallow dish of water for butterflies to puddle and bees to drink. This space is home to carpenter bees and birds. There is shelter and food and water. 

There is also a pumpkin growing where I intended there to be mostly potatoes. Yes, I did put a pumpkin seed in there, so it's not a complete surprize, but I was hoping for both. 

The work is still interesting, and I feel I'm doing some good for a vulnerable population.  Also, lots of great stories.  It's nice to have a job that isn't trying to kill me. Pays adequately, and I can take time off pretty much at my own discretion. Which for me often means going home a bit early rather than taking a week off.  Last week was lovely, between the holiday and med school graduation, I worked two days. There was bugger all to do on Monday, so I put in 3 hours and came home. 

Yes, I have a headset. I try to use it most of the time, makes it easier to work the software and type. 

Focused on what I can do. 

 

Here

 The war rages on,

Another casualty

No surrender, none. 

We knew, we knew in 2016, that awful November morning when the bombs dropped so silently.  No one wants to think, and never can quite believe, that it will happen, that it has happened, that life will not be the same, that the unimaginable just dropped on your lives.  Even when you know, you have imagined, it shocks. That evil has triumphed, and is gloating over your torn and naked body, and worse is to come. 

We must hold on to our strength, and our sanity, and we must endure until we are in a place to fight. We don't know, most of us, what we can do, will need to do, not yet. The wars rage on, and we have gained ground, and it is not all lost, but who do we trust? We see our neighbors in far worse shape, but we also know, it could be us, next. Will be, if we don't succeed in pushing out the violence, the terrorists, the propaganda, the small minded tyrants. It's happened before. 

It's happened before, and yet, there is a way forward. The pattern repeats, destruction and degradation, followed by change and renewal. We must remember, we must endure. 

There are no magic wands and no time machines. We have what we have right now, and go from here. 

Other

 Classical Rap

Hybrid Bharatham EPISODE 5 | Usha Jey Choreography | Uproar -Lil Wayne ft. Swizz Beatz

Finally it rains. The last two days dustful winds roared, smoke from a brush fire scented the rushing push, repeating the pattern from the week before.  Hot winds are distressing, irritating, full of sound and fury. 

This morning, rain. 

I've been keeping up, with a bit of side-eye lest I choke, to the irrational terrorists in our midst. It's the same shit, of course.  They want to do whatever they want, or they'll take their ball and go home. It's not their ball. It's not their home. Abusers, bullies, racists.  Not to mention the women. 

What has been dawning on me is that, despite the color of my skin, I really should not be included as White. My grandparents would not have been considered White. Nor my own parents when they were kids. They bloat their numbers to puff themselves up, and I don't want to be part of that.  I will claim Other. Irish, French Canadian, very likely descended from at least one First Nations woman, who knows what else? Certainly not the Anglo-Saxon-Norman (and even then only the aristos). 

Rather like, as I grow older, I don't feel so Straight or Binary.  I'm trending toward Ace and NB, or at least Bi and NB. This is not a new development, but a better understanding, as the hormones ebb, and the submerged appears.  Not an absolute, so much as a drawing back from the definite to a place between 0 and 1.  Analog, on dials set by feel. 

Listening to the rain, and the comforted garden. 

Linen

 So, as well as the wool pillows, we got some linen bedding. 

Now when Dylan gets up at night, he has to check his pillow when he comes back to bed. And it's always his pillow, so far. 

I did wind up getting extra wool filler to stuff my pillow, but with that adjustment, it really has worked well. All this should last us a very long time, perhaps never have to buy more sheets.  I'm using the flat sheets now unused due to duvets, as material for sewing projects. The wool Army blankets, sewn together long ago, are now under the bottom sheet - thanks gz, that works very nicely. 

Focusing on durable, natural materials, stuff that will last the rest of my life, and taking care of it. I did more mending yesterday evening. 

My difficulties with the hand Fellows is apparently not just me, I got a flash of confirmation from an unexpected source yesterday. It's not just each of them individually, they are not good together. I'm not the only one eagerly awaiting the new pair of Fellows starting in August.  It's made for a rough first year in this job, next year should go a lot smoother.  I know all the pitfalls cuz I fell right innum. I still have a lot to learn, but I'm getting the hang of it. 

And Monday, finally a celebration in this country about ENDING slavery, or at least starting to. Beats a holiday about presidential birthdays (no doubt a hangover from celebrating the monarch's b-day) or  Columbus (we celebrate it as Indigenous People's Day now) or one of two for the military (Veteran's Day and Memorial Day).  May we live up to the promise and intention of Juneteenth. Sooner rather than later.  But then, we're still struggling with Labor Day, and MLK Day. 

 THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM 

The room is 

almost all 

elephant. 

Almost none 

of it isn't. 

Pretty much solid elephant. 

So there's no room 

to talk 

about it.

- Kay Ryan

Standards

 I have begun to sew.  Well, I'm learning how to create a pattern, have cut up some fabric, and trying to understand how to put it together. Very much experimental at this point. The fabric was very cheap from an estate sale, so if I wreck it all, I won't be out more than a few dollars - and that's a good price for the lessons in making.

This is all from watching Bernadette Banner, and her book on making, sewing and mending. I've been thinking about all the clothes that I loved the most, the ones that made me feel secure, the ones with enough pockets. And I want to make new versions of them. 

There was a soft A-line jumper (pinafore dress) that I wore over a blouse. The color was not my choice - a very pale yellow, but the fabric was amazing. Mom made it, and I wore it until I outgrew it age about 10. I still miss it.  

She made a school uniform jumper, navy blue wool, that I wore all through several years at school, because pants weren't allowed for girls, and all you could buy was horrible polyester. This one was absolutely my favorite, pleats and all. I was teased about it, but I did not care in the slightest. It was a much better version of this. 

And 30 years ago, something very similar in rayon, grey, roomy, big pockets, very much the IN thing, at the time, and I wore it constantly. 

There was a pink and grey striped skirt with a high wide waist band and enormous pockets. A blouse with a tab collar and a lot of fabric in the sleeves - not unlike a Navajo blouse.  Indian style poofy pants that I have now,  but need to be in a better color. 

If I can make a version of these, I could live in them the rest of my life. Finding my style, making and maintaining it. Not giving a shit what others think about it. 

Caring about what other people think matters in terms of being kind, considerate, cooperative. But in matters of style and personal expression, Ain't nobody's business...

So far I've gotten a sewing box together, and mended the sleeves on one of my hoodies, and a tear in some cargo shorts. It's all still pretty rough, but I'm making enough progress to feel good about the process. 

Door

 View from the neighbor's yard, while I petted Spike the Dog. 

Recover

 Still recovering, physically ok, mentally and emotionally rather low. No reserves, I should say. I do a thing, and then have to stop and rest. Doing OK at work, although this past week was... hard.  A call that went far worse than even I anticipated, and apparently it's my fault (specifically me) that her husband won't even try to quit nicotine so he can get his surgery. And oh, so busy all week. Or maybe not that much, but I couldn't get out of second gear. 

A bad part in the new HVAC, two guys out already to fix it. Hopefully next week. But it's not been cold or hot enough for this to be a hardship, so we are fine. Only hitting 80°F ish this week. Takes a few days over 90° to bake the bricks enough to keep it hot overnight here.  And when it's 50°ish overnight, we have duvets and that's fine as well.  Thankful we are not getting an early, searing spring.