Flurry

Too few photos, especially too few of The Cat. Who is always grateful for grass. (This from last week.)

Despite the cold this afternoon, (17˚F, -8C) he wanted OUT.


And not too much later, IN.


We got him a new toy. He'd been attacking it, throwing it up, pulling up the rug edge to get it, shaking it, for several minutes once I got out the camera. He went back for it after I stopped with the photos.


Just a little felt mouse, with graspable ears and long tail with feather.


A hit.

He's watching the snow come down, just a light flurry, nothing much.

Windblown

Storm blew in yesterday afternoon, whiteout for a while, snowing sideways. Alarming warnings about how bad it would be. And in some parts of the valley, certainly on interstate highways, it no doubt was. Some places got snow in feet, we got a few paltry inches, most blown into drifts. Got up early this morning, gave myself an extra twenty minutes to get to work. Roads bad, but not as bad as predicted, a bit worse than I hoped for.

Going home, car smeared with windblown lake snow, the fluffy, salty stuff, easily brushed off. Slick all the way down, ALBs shuddering but not stopping me at one steep bit, not long, but a long moment. Halted in time, looked back and the car behind me leaving me plenty of space - also stopped. Same driver followed me almost all the way home, as I sent down blessings on his head as he kept a good following distance. Parked with no intention of going out again for the next few icy days. We can get about on foot, with yaktrax on boots. So shall the year end, with a slide and a shiver.

It's been a troubled season. So many people going through life altering troubles. I consider my little accident the easiest of all, the most easily healed. Everyone alive.

I've only read about Another Year, but I want to see it. Adored Happy Go Lucky. And this new Mike Leigh seems like a companion piece.

Glad to be home, in no rush to venture out.

Renew

Head in a whirl tonight, hamster wheeling thoughts. Imagined scene for the now totally internal novel that will probably never gel. Remembered strange experiences as a nurse, always the most gross. Over and over. Uncomfortable and preoccupied. Awaiting the onslaught of the storm. Not that tomorrow matters, I don't have to be anywhere. The day after is when the snow will likely accumulate, and I do have to make it to work then.

Not that New Year signifies, but the collective focus on starting anew draws me in. Not for resolutions. Perhaps a renewal of older vows, though. To be calm and cheerful, compassionate and kind always. To refrain from complaint and utterly reject anger as a valid form of expression. To dance again, and sing more.

Stuck

Today would not move, no matter how hard we pushed. Everything sticky. Finally called home, and requested a meal, and when asked for a suggestion, I offered, "stew." D took this idea, and made a spicy, flavorful meal with peppers and... well, everything else, really. He's found a real talent for stew and chili. We are now savoring the panettoni we got last week. Remembering Mrs. Rizzardi, my adopted next door Italian grandmother. Finally appreciating the less sugared treats she once offered, that I would now adore.

Reading about concussions in student athletes, the need for giving them cognitive time as well as physical recuperation. And I kept thinking about my childhood concussion, the teeter-totter, as well as my migraines. Mouth hurts from the retainer, coping. Reminding me also of my time in braces, and how it helped with the headaches. Have not had one of those in the past year. Headaches, sure, but no migraines. Taking an hour or two out of the retainer for my sanity. So hard to enunciate around it. I can do it, but it tires me the fuckout.


Dearest friend seems to be up for forgetting and calling it an anomaly. Still raw, both. Hopeful.

Moments

I have written my friend a chatty, funny email, that if she takes offense at, means there's no hope, but if she laughs, will bring us back to our great love for each other. I wait in hope.

Still a bit upset at an altercation* at the library last week, wary of going back, tomorrow. IF they are open on Boxing Day. One year (the Great Boxing Day Blizzard of Aught Three) we sheltered there when the storms took our heat and light, and internet connection. (See photos, above.) Warmed and read email, and returned home, power restored shortly after.

At any rate, *idiot assaulted us with demands for "Knowing how to say hi" when we did not know him, and tried to pick a fight with us. Security alerted shortly after, and they will deal. I would have hit him with my umbrella, if shooing him away had not worked.

Hoping old friend will see humor. Going to be a friend no matter what. We all have Our Little Moments.* Next Letter to fairygoddaughter tomorrow. F.



Gave Red Iguana Chili sauces to D's parents, who were happy thereby, (went by for lunch, and take-out yesterday) and accepted Red Iguana gift certificate from them today. Ironic, and funny. At our urging, they decided to be Selfish, and save queso and verde for tomorrow. Good for them. Hot (spicy) food brings joy all around. SIL and BIL gave us toy for Moby, as we gave them one for their cat last year. An Acceptable Gift. Except that Moby is skittish about the sounds it makes. Maybe tomorrow he'll feel differently.

*See Stanley from Going Postal, raised by Peas. (Known for thoroughness.)

Offerings

Made it through yesterday, despite Dr. Crankypants. With the help of E the Great Scrub (no sarcasm, a lovely, bright, capable young man) who rolled with the changes. Picked up a case with Dr. Gentle German at his request because of a time gap, traded for a Dr. Jumpy case to another room, and all wound up finishing about the same time, but with good feelings and no sense of rush in our room.

Jaw aching, bad taste and raw spots in my mouth. At work, knowing I would have to remove the retainer and brush my teeth each time made it easy to resist the plethora of treats in the breakroom. (No challenge from the enormous chocolate cake, because I love chocolate, and there is a difference between love, and porn. That cake was pornographic, not lovable.)

Got home worn and edgy, D coughing and ill himself, we hunkered down together in front of twinkly lights. Crawled to bed already asleep. Heard D say something, could hear it clearly, but it made no sense, like he spoke in another language. I've told him not to speak Greek to me anymore, he's agreed. Intermittent sleep for both of us, but lasting. Moby insistent we get up at 0730, purring, walking on us, nosing our faces, repeatedly.

"I know you're awake. Get up."

Made hot wheat cereal as the sun turned the black to a textured grey. D cooked sausages later, when the timidly strengthening light padded in. Both feeing nourished, dare I say, cheered? Just a little, but it's enough.

Picking up food offerings from Red Iguana to take to D's folks tomorrow, Salsa Verde and an order of Con Queso, which I know makes no linguistic sense, but there you go. And have lunch there, since, well we're going to be there anyway, right? Pick up the adequate ginger ale (since Stewart's stopped making their wonderful stuff) for D's sore throat, and some grass for Moby. Nothing frantic, just odds and ends. Turkey roll defrosting for us to cook tomorrow evening.

Down to one hand, as cat has me on tum scritching duty. Be of good cheer, it helps.



Check out this 1925 Christmas Party photo over at Shorpy, it's a humdinger.

Grill

Retainer-like device in place. We shall see in a month.

All I want for Christmas....






is my two front teeth.

Hiver

This week totally sucks. A pattern of train-wreck cases, which until today, I more or less avoided. Told this case would probably not be ours, so I should have known. Doomed, indeed. A lovely, ugly, five hour case. Thankfully, my good karma taking care of other cow-orkers going through long, complex cases flowed back through plenty of help to get started, for which I am very grateful. Then, one nurse stayed late to get us cleaned up at the end. I work hard to get as much cleared away as possible before last case is done, but the accumulations were a bit much. Help was a gift of great worth.

What is more, the surgeon thanked me, gave me a nice, side-hug at the end. Which I don't take too seriously, but I'll accept any thanks that come my way.

That I got this nightmare case is really only fair. Wouldn't complain even if there was someone to listen.

Happy Solstice, Good Yule, Bon Hiver.

Practicum

I love when scientists are the ones who actually go out and try shit. Leading to better crutches.


And moving huge stones with balls in slots. Or possibly baskets.

Which is why I love Mythbusters. Because, so often, Everything we Know, is Wrong. And you just have to build it, shove it around, and find out where the holes in the theory lie. Life tends not to be amenable to theory. Theory is important to help us understand, but it has to be the first virgin sacrificed, every time.

Under Heaven is indeed, worth reading. Hovering at the edges of Wuxia, readable (if not brilliant) prose style. Good characters, compelling plot, ultimately satisfying. A rollicking tale, I never got irritated and wanted to just flip to the end and find out what happened. I was happy to be drawn along, and come to the resolution as it played out.

Oh, and David Mitchell is brilliant. Thank you Pacian for that link, we've been going through all of them.

Santa

HE ATE SANTA!



Tree is without blue or silver, as much as possible. The warmer array seems to be helping both of us.

Here, this song has been going through my head today.

Find more artists like Wait A Minim! at Myspace Music

From here*.



*Which I know of because of the ex, who did, give the devil his due, have good taste in music.

Dangers

Actually slept past 0600 on a day off. Seems I could only sleep late on days when I must get up. This morning, made it to nearly 0800, which helped. Sat next to Moby on the sofa, and he leaned against my leg and tucked his head into my hand, even after I got up and sat down several times to get tea and breakfast.

Raining and grey, better when it's more rain. Walked to the library, got there too early. A crowd waiting in the atrium, a voice declaiming somewhere out of sight. D forgot his employee badge, both of us thought of going in through the back, but couldn't go through employee areas without it. Belligerent voice, "Do you know how to say hi?" A few times, then directed at us, aggressive, threatening, more as we tried to tell him to go away. Between the two of us, finally got him to walk away, although he kept glaring at us. Spoiling for a fight, I'm certain.

Doors open, the crowd sifts in, and we wait. Find a security guard just inside and tell him about Belligerent Guy, someone else also accosted by him adding to our description, then I spot him getting on the elevator. Security folks identify him, although the group is too thick for them to stop him. They'll keep an eye on him. Both of us bothered and shaken, wary. We are non-confrontational people, anger frightens us.

I have no issue with the street folks using the library, quite the opposite. But a number of people on the streets are there because they are not well socialized - for a host of reasons, and I'm relieved that people trained to deal with such behaviour are there. Not just librarians expected to take care of this.

Thinking about the Elizabeth Smart abduction. And (Brian*) David Mitchell trial just finished. I saw them, robed and walking the streets, never occurred to me who it might be. I never gave him money, but a lot of people did, and supported his crimes. The whole thing bothers me. Most of the people on the streets are no doubt lost souls. Some are far worse, dangerous.

*Added for precision.

Choose

Upset with an old friend. Not going to talk about it here. Of course. But let's just say that email is wonderful, but cannot replace the phone completely, much as I hate talking on the phone. And is no substitute at all for being there in person. I'm heartbroken, and doubting myself down to my core. And my core is very dire and dark. I am, at the moment, lacking family of any kind, and so few in-person friends to call it none at all. If D didn't reassure me, I would believe myself utterly bereft of human contact. And unworthy of it.

Much of it is my own choice. I will not be used or misused, and am either hypersensitive to misuse, or have chosen badly the people around me. Both, concurrently or sequentially, no doubt. The two misjudgments walk hand in hand. Grief following grief. Loss collapsing into loss.

At least once, I chose, or probably more accurately was chosen, beyond hopes and aspirations. I have no adequate words for the bottomless gratitude I feel for the wonderful human being who most knows me, and most loves me. Only in very dark mood do I doubt that.

Put up the tree. Made the mistake of putting on the blue lights we'd gotten after the season last year. In such a mood, I only put up the fairly colorless, blue or silver, ornaments. We tried to put the multi-colored lights up around the room, and the adhesive tabs failed utterly. In another mood, I'd have seen the humor. Within an hour, I looked at the "tasteful" tree, and said "That is hideous." Blue Christmas kept playing through my head, and I took all the ornaments off, instead of throwing the whole display in the trash, with D's assistance. After a moment's hesitation, we put on the multi colored lights. This helped quite a lot. I will likely add ornaments tomorrow.

Not easy to be cheerful, this year. Have to put in a lot of effort.

Worried about health issues, for both of us. Much is worrisome. Nothing definite yet. Which is good, really. Limbo.

Got tea bag mulling spices and apple juice. Unbelievably comforting. Got our christmas dinner, as well. Our one requirement, enough food on christmas.

Watching a show. TV et al turned off and on. Moby stepped on the switch. We both laugh.

Abandon

Long, long, hard, hard days.
Staying later to clean up.
Can't abandon folks.

Today

Cool winter day, out walking several times, glad for my midweek day off. However unsettled in my mind for the future of my dentition, however too-early I woke, the time is good, welcome.

Reading Under Heaven by Guy Gavriel Kay as recommended on NPR. Not going to recommend until I know how it ends, but so far, I'm caught.

D found Stephen Fry in America, enjoying it more, probably because of having read the companion book. Funny, for all that he calls himself a coward and a sissy (cissy, but we are separated by a common language) he keeps going bravely, and amusingly. Full points in my book.

That is all, today.

Pea

Going to see an orthodontist tomorrow about the continuing malocclusion of my front teeth. That fall shoved them back a bit, and now that the swelling and bruising are gone, it's clear they are not where they were. I'm hopeful that a device can be fitted to get everything toothy more or less where it belongs. Seems a shame to mess up that year with braces.

A hard pea of scar impeding normal motion, lip is not really working quite properly. This is going to take some time to resolve, and as the sensation returns to near normal, it's bugging the crap out of me. Massaging it, and waiting. I can look serious, or smile big, but any nuance between is beyond me. Really good I work in a mask, I can let my eyes do the work much more reliably.

The little things, devil in the details, happiness in small change.

Update: Good news bad news. A simple retainer should work fine, on order. Bad news, it might not work, or the teeth could still die, and need more attention than anyone would like, and that could take a couple of months to manifest. But I'm getting it all documented now, and it *should* all be covered by workman's comp.

Prepare

Hard days full of hours
Minutes stuffed with busy-ness
Cold preparations.

Shouldn't

Strangely warm, with bright sun, to Moby's delight. Has spent quite some time out on the balcony.

We shopped this morning, brought him wheatgrass. He knows when we've been to that store, and is visibly disappointed when we don't have grass for him. A lovely mrrk! and excited chomping, no visible horking up, yet. He likes him some wheatgrass.

Terribly sleepy all afternoon. Should have gotten stuff done. Didn't. D telling me I shouldn't, just rest. Well, then.

Prejudice

Inga, a cat at the Mt. Washington observatory in the White Mountains. Long gone by now, of course, but she's lived on here for many years, another random desktop.


D mentions a recording of Ian Fleming's Bond stories, and the racial attitudes of the time. I grew up with this sort of speech. My aunt had nothing but contempt for Italians. My father used the usual slurs. My mother called anyone not mainstream "colored." (Which confused me, as they were not particularly colorful...) Facing someone of a different ethnicity, they were kind and polite, they were prejudiced, but not actively bigoted. The slant of their times. My grandmother was born in 1890. My mother, the youngest of her siblings, in 1925. So, I was not taught to hate those of other backgrounds, merely to idly dismiss them, passively. My mother's friend in grade school was Jewish, and she hated that there were beaches that barred her friend. They would go anyway, of course.

I'm in the next generation, when "Black" was the correct term, and I saw the aftermath of the '67 riots from the backseat of the car. The era of political correctness - later on. Being accused of racism, when dealing with someone breathtakingly rude, whose daughter was my friend (unbeknownst to her.) And dealing with my own biases and irrational feelings about "other." Being myself "other" as a minority in a city where being white, and both parents Canadian, meant I never was mainstream, despite my skin. I sounded different, felt different, but looked Same. And danced on the edge.

As I get older, I am aware that my sense of ethnic identity is old fashioned. Not progressed, but flung off at a tangent. I still refuse to think less of anyone for their genetics. But I find I have prejudices, a disdain for the sexism of Islam, or old style cultural Catholicism, and bloody minded, self serving conservatism of more traditional groups. Don't get me started about the baptists who hate gays so much they intrude on grief.

I find I detest the establishment as much as the libertarian idealism. I have little patience for idealism or extremism of any stripe, or people who identify with a group rather than their own character.

It's lonely out here, but here I stand.

How many war protesters does it take to stop a war? Trick question, war protesters never accomplished anything.
(Correction, how many war protesters does it take to change a lightbulb? Trick question, war protesters never changed anything.)

A dark joke, full of cynicism, but not a lie either. How many protesters stopped tectonic plate movement?

We all have our little moments. When we decide where is Here, and where is There. Who is Us, and who Them. We draw our lines, and live within them, or outside them. Or we pull away from any group, any friend, any association, and feel the isolation.

Tides

Another random desktop image, my own photo. A trip with friends on the way out, we came back early by ourselves, but we loved tide pool exploring near Monterey. Many years ago.

This week has been uphill the whole way. Work accomplished, but nothing easily. Dentist seen, teeth alive but out of line, appointment with orthodontist next week. Lip lumpy, massaging it, much more sensation - which means it bugs me increasingly as it heals, and everyone else has forgotten about it because "it looks perfect!" The lonely part of healing up.

The friends who are having hard times and are upset, and I'm not in a position to help in any meaningful way. Not without losing boundaries and exhausting myself - and still not really helping. Almost as difficult to stand out of the way and wait. But that is what is needed. Like being scrubbed in, needing to keep the field sterile, while there are difficulties with the patient, and having to stand idle, hold back, watch, wait.

Maintenance flushed the hot water heater, and we've had a lot more, and more consistent hot water since. Even took a lovely deep bath this morning, after thoroughly cleaning the tub. Dishwasher working better as well.


Moby sat behind me, occasionally attacking my hair.

Lights

I don't know the attribution of this. I use it as a random desktop image.


After the dentist, D for a cleaning, me for an x-ray and exam, we drove up the canyon to Ruth's Diner for a huge breakfast of biscuits and protein with a dash of cholula. Lip is still numb and lumpy, teeth are proven alive and a bit pushed in. I'm trying to push them out myself, with remarkable, if not complete, success. Still, anything about messing with one's teeth is disturbing. Despite all the country holiday music (that our otherwise excellent dentist plays), the last tune we heard was Linus and Lucy, still easily the coolest Christmas standard.

Being over emotional about losses, these days. Sad and lonely, and nothing to be done about it.

Not into any part of this holiday, money tight - as per. Not into the religious side, and my dabblings on the outskirts of new age mysticism have faded into non-existance this year. Friends fallen away, with the implications that I am a poor friend anyway.

Don't like presents, the only exception being the rare and elusive Perfect one, that comes stealthily from an unexpected corner. As happened this year, in the form of a round, blue box, returning my own pottery reincarnated and more beautiful. D's stainless steel bowl set, our first Festivus back, a test - that he cared more about giving me what I needed than his own desire to give something fun. Proven. Still have them, they are still used often, I never floated a "test present request" ever again. A rubbery, green gel buddha when I was a kid, nothing I would have asked for, but I adored it. I believe it was a stocking present, from "Santa." An afterthought from my mother, then. Who knew?

Maybe on the solstice, I'll get the tree and some lights up, not because I feel like it, but because it will help us feel better. Like smiling, not because it just happens, but because it helps. After the new year, I need to concentrate on a project, volunteer, or take a class, or something. Anything. Being sad is a bad habit, no matter how justified. A positive feedback loop that destroys itself. Self destruction is easy, and unworthy, on any scale.

Curse the darkness, sure. But I'll light some candles, and some sparkly lights as well. No reason not to do both.

Prickle

What the hell was going on today? Two emails from people that I am not sure how to respond to. Complications in every room. Had to work with an older scrub tech who thinks it funny to tell of mocking his wife for her bad cooking. As my father always sniped at my mother's food. Granted, she was no great cook, but what motivation or training did she ever have?

I'm very glad D is always grateful for my efforts at meals, appreciative and kind even when it doesn't turn out well. I'm even more grateful when he cooks for us, and he's getting pretty good, too. We try harder for each other, because we know we'll be given credit for trying, and can share real joy when it really tastes good. Neither of us will ever love to cook, but it's not a trial of futility with each other.

As humans, we all just want acknowledgement, that our efforts are noticed, and we matter. That someone cares that we do our jobs, feed each other, clean up, hold a hand, write a letter. If no one does that, ever, it's hard to keep going.

Hand

Thought my hands too small, short fingers, nothing elegant about them. They are working hands, for all that they lack calluses, plenty of scars though. Can't be convinced to play an instrument, either one of them, alone or in concert. Nor juggling.

Bags

Growing up, groceries came in squared off brown paper bags that had to be held in one's arms. They were reused to take out dry trash, cut to form book covers - that I could then doodle on in class, or wrap the occasional package to be mailed to a brother in the service, or the other one at college.

We've been using our own bags since our sojourn to Boston. Easier to carry cloth bags when walking, or pack them in a wheelie cart, where plastic bags would fail. We just got in the habit, one that stuck. Dealing with plastic bags in small apartments is bothersome, they are inadequate for garbage, although I used them as such for many years. Three of these have "Trader Joe's" on them. One is insulated, good for milk gallons in summer. Two came as part of a work gift, with a trunk organizer.

Amazing how often baggers just don't know how to deal with them. They expect me to just hold the milk jug. They pack dry goods in the insulated bag, and pack all the heavy items in the largest bag. I much prefer to pack my own, most of the time.



Moby can eat wherever he likes.


And bathe on the laptop, as the mood takes him.

Blip

Better than the day after...


Smile a tad stiff, a little painful, but there. Will improve. I like the little blip of a scar. To have broken so and not have evidence, seems wrong and disappointing. I'll keep it.


Mucky out there. Murky air, damp and grey. Both woke too early, achy and grey ourselves. Muddled through most of the morning, both thinking of the same place for a necessarily nutritious lunch. Hong Kong Tea House opened at 1030, which suited us, hungry and increasingly irritable. Cut my knuckle nicely on a mug, cracked as I washed it and sliced in bloodily. Nothing serious, but it made a good little mess.

At any rate, dim sum, bell peppers cooked perfectly with shrimp paste and a bean sauce, chicken stuffed buns, pot stickers, and D had chicken in pepper sauce. All perfectly done, spiced, tasty, restorative. Amazing what good flavors can do.

Guy

Turned out, I'd actually been seen by an ENT guy. Which makes me so much happier, honestly. I'm good with reconstructive plastic, but so much not cosmetic plastics. But I'd been given the ER instructions to follow up with the plastic's clinic, which I did. Today, in the middle of work. The shuttle worked well, the resident professional and thorough, but when I saw the plastic surgeon attending, the tone changed. Oh, the advice to massage the lip to reduce the scar tissue was useful, and I've already been doing that. But the emphasis on cosmetic management, high SPF lip balm at all times to reduce visible scarring, or using the "free" workman's comp to cover "weekly" dermabrasion to reduce the (already minimal) scarring on the skin above the lip. I wanted to say, "We are just not speaking the same language, are we?"

I simply refused the extra treatment, expressing disinterest in any more fuss. After the dentist, I'm done with this bother. I'm focused only on resumption of full sensation and motion. I don't really give a flying fuck about a scar, as long as I can eat and drink properly, and enunciate clearly. Not to mention bite with my front teeth. I'm fine with not hiding the marks life makes on me, let me be read clearly.

On the way through the halls to the clinic, I noticed a new clinic. "Fainting and Falling Clinic." Only wish I'd had my camera. Serious, but funny.

Frictionless

Smiling more than this is painful, pulls, and winds up looking like a teeth-baring grimace.


The scabs from the cold sores are just bothersome, eroding my humor and tolerance. I bored with this, I'm ready for it to be over. As I'm sure anyone with an injury can relate to. I was doing pretty well until the oral herpes erupted, easily the worst, fastest outbreak I've ever had under any circumstances. Still healing that disruption. Sapped my amusement at the whole adventure. Counting one's blessings at all the worse things that could so easily happened - is mostly to deflect sympathy.

But a good meal this afternoon, and time to talk it out, and I'm back to seeing the funny.

Keep thinking of the year I learned to drive.

Parents had a new car, I'd just gotten my license that summer. Winter, and very cold and snowy, driving alone, and I took a back street I should have known to avoid. The fire hydrant apparently had a leak, as the entire intersection was several inches deep, or more, in glare ice. And I began to slide sideways. Steered into the skid, but that only kept me from spinning, not sliding to within a foot of the hydrant before stopping. I sat there for a moment and breathed, started the car up again, and crept forward toward a merely-snow-packed street, and did not mention the incident until long after that car was gone.

Remembering also, many years ago, again winter, snowy, icy streets, and a road with a pronounced bow (cross slope?). Suddenly, the old Subaru slid sideways, bumping into the curb, not a thing I could do but refrain from panicking. No harm done then, either. Just a warning shove.

Friction is our friend.