Welcome

What were you never taught growing up?

I never understood about roommates, and how to protect myself from irresponsible ones. I got taken several times by unscrupulous ones.

I didn't know not to throw loose tea down the drain, since my mother only used tea bags, and a sort of friend got me using loose leaves. I clogged the hell out of one apartment sink, terrible roommate told me off. The one who left a huge bowl of hummus to rot. The one who never paid me for her numerous long distance phone calls. At least a call to her mother got that taken care of.

I did not know that a parking ticket could not be dealt with by ignoring it.

I did not know how to use bleach without ruining my clothes, still a struggle.

I did not know how poor nutrition would drag on me, even after starting to eat vegetables. I lived on quick breads I baked, drank milk despite hating it because I thought it 'nutritious' and ate lots of candy stolen from the concessions I worked at the theater. My gut always hurt and I was often ill and weak. Took many years to learn how to eat any better. Steamed frozen veggies, fresh broccoli and beets from Eastern Market helped. Less bread and avoiding milk made a huge difference. Not to mention a lot fewer sweets.

I did not know how important good (expensive) shoes are. Well made, well fitted, well supported. My feet hurt unnecessarily for years until good running shoes became common.

I did not know how to be a good restaurant customer. How to order well, how to tip properly, how to complain appropriately and kindly, I was awful and hungry.

I did not know how to deal with drinking, or the terrible hangovers I inevitably got. A series of experiments and I learned based on real data.

I did not know how to keep track of cash taken out of an atm, and ran short much more quickly than I expected... once.

Patterns

My mother sewed, so I spent a lot of time looking at pattern packages. Hadn't thought of them for a long time, until I stumbled across a site captioning them. Oh, I knew they were awkward even then, but it all came back to me with extra punch.

I was grateful for the clothes my mother made for me, some of them turned out very well, and I loved the forest green velvet jumper (pinafore), broke my heart when the oh so soft yellow one got too small, and the navy blue wool school uniform (also pinafore) is an article of clothing I wish I still had. Apparently really liked that form of dress, more forgiving than a full dress, easier to wear than just a skirt and blouse.

I suppose I should be glad she didn't insist on making jeans when I pressed for having at least one pair. Which was not until the last year of high school.

But I had lots of dresses and skirts and pjs from patterns. She used the same pattern to keep herself in dresses through the decades. She found something she liked, and stuck to it. Given her height (4'11") and weight (heavy, series of yoyo diets), perfectly understandable, since buying clothes was nearly impossible for her. She wound up in "Boys" shoes for everyday, only ones wide, but small enough to fit, after many attempts at any other solution.

As I read through the captions, some tight knot inside me, that I hadn't even noticed, sliced open and unraveled in giggles, making sproing! noises.

Spent the night waking to persistent thoughts about planting, digging, and how to organize it. Worse than planning for a move or puzzling out which nursing school classes needed to be scheduled in what order and how many credits I needed.

This morning, as soon as the frost vanished, I trenched the edges where the thyme is to be. And found... weed sprouts. Those little buggers! NOOoooooooo!

So I re-dug, mostly along the first edge I worked, and had not worked thoroughly enough. Thick, deep roots, I hope the buckwheat can compete. This is the problem with removing one thing, something has to replace it. And it's just too early to put down frost intolerant plants yet. Laid down thyme seeds around half the edge, watered, swept, took out the bin of yard waste (the city composts this) and stopped. Have to stop, nowhere else to put weeds.



Eleanor wanted to go out, so we did. She's dealing with the harness a little better.

Long hot bath. Contemplating the OR saying "Dilution is the solution to pollution." Nothing is ever completely, perfectly pure, save in very specialized chemistry labs. Nor would it be of any use elsewhere. Story this week about eating snow, and how there are tiny amounts of some pretty nasty contaminants, but not enough to worry about. Perfection is not only unobtainable, but undesireable. It's boring and incomplete.

Thought about the 'perfectionists'* I've known, and how I've eventually come to dislike them all. Because they focus on some detail they have to get right, and miss actually doing the job. I've been dumped on by such folks at work, having to do the real work while they fuss. Standing in a blizzard, they obsess about the color of the buttons, and miss that they haven't put the coat ON.


Ok, now Moby wants to go out. Fair enough.



*Self described, always proudly self described.

Bottled

Time change is unwelcome in this house, but must be endured. We start early to adjust. And I worked myself to near exhaustion, to facilitate sleep tonight.



Yes, I know, it just looks like dirt, but it's living soil. And I think it wants to be beautiful again, full of green and flowers. May be why I keep getting little gifts, three more marbles, and three more beads, and a little bottle. If there were a genie inside, it's a very tiny and dirty one, and I would only wish it to guard and heal this little plot.

Cleaned it as well as I could for now, an overnight soak might loosen the rest of the trapped mud. It'll take more than that for my fingernails.



Cats enjoying the sun, as they do.

Thrown

A day not as tiresome and gappy as I feared. Ended more or less on schedule, because of a cancellation. Slept badly after having a glass more of the double chocolate stout than I should have, which is to say two. Head sore all night, woke to Eleanor snuggling, a comfort. Got up, and Moby sat beside me, purring. They do take care of me. Drugs, shower, neti pot, tea, and I'm fine now.

Crow sent this link, about how we change and recreate ourselves. More on the main page, I especially enjoyed the Marquez bit. Soft spot for magical realism of his flavor.

Saw one of those motivational speakers once, who described the fear of change this way, people who value how they do something have a very hard time changing how they do their jobs. People who understand and value why they do their jobs, have a much easier time changing how they do it. I constantly have to change how I do my job, so many changes, all the time, and I've worked in so many different places. I think it's forced me to stay flexible. Starting all over again with orthopedics after years in general surgery, then in different hospital systems. Very tao, that, Beginner's Mind. It spreads to the rest of my thinking. The stiffness is beaten out of me.*

I've always embraced better ways of doing what needs to be done. So many apartments, so many different jobs, adapt or die. Living with cats. Take them as they are, or be frustrated.

Last evening, Eleanor on my lap (arm), Moby on D's, Moby came over to sniff at Eleanor, very sweetly. They both jumped down, and scuffled briefly, then he jumped to the top of the tree. A long, slow process, to build trust, maybe affection. Eleanor such an odd mix of native friendly and learned fear. She has a way to go, but the progress is apparent. We realize how much she must have gone through, for such a gregarious soul, to be so skittish.

Funny, how much the same I am, now and as a small child. Opinionated, unheeded, intense, funny, tearful, incisive, prickly, earnest, introverted, not easy not ever, but with a warm heart and a deep desire to comfort. So often lately, I've read about the tribulations of actors, and feel immense relief that I never tried to make a living that way. Such a bad fit, I had nothing I needed to live happily that way. No, I was a homebody, a carer. I let the weakest girl in kindergarten rest her head on my lap, and protected her. This seemed natural to me, my mother - told at a teacher's conference, thought it worthy of comment. Probably the only reason I remember, because it was noted by others.

I still want to protect, to soothe, to console. As I want to be distracted and jollied along. A Fellow talked about how she loved going along on hikes with her parents' friends, the only rules being "show up, keep up and shut up." Starting from a loving family, this is the next layer of resilience. Resilience in children only comes if they are secure at the ground, fed, sheltered, treated lovingly, educated, accepted. Then, they can run over the neighborhood with impudence and take care of themselves. I appreciate when the guys at work assume I can handle such a tough audience, and hold my own. Showing up, keeping up, and (as far as complaint) shutting up. Which does not include smarting off, of course, since that is included in keeping up.

I'm made of the same stuff I started with, but all rearranged, melted down and alloyed in different ways. Like clay, wedged and rethrown. May not be pretty to anyone else, but appreciated at home, genuine, and functional.

Soon as it gets over 35˚, off to dig. Thyme down at the edges.


*No offense.

Soil

Made it to the north corner, about a foot wide swath, after work. Came home tired and strained, a cup of tea and a nibble, then dug in the late sun. Further to go, but all feeling very doable although certainly not done.

Using the excess soil, sifted, for the close planter box. The phrase "sons of toil covered in tons of soil" circling my brain as I worked. It's all laborious, but the point is thoroughness, not speed. I love efficiency, but this is not that kind of job. This is picking through every bit, caring for the tree roots, expunging the invading weeds, caring for this little spot of earth, and it's ability to give a home to the bees and spiders, bacteria and nematodes, birds and cats, as well as whatever other creatures may find solace here. Do it right now, and not have to do it again. Keep watch, maintain, but the bulk of the job done for as long as I need it done.


Neighbor with her babby stopped to chat and give us cookies* for a few minor kindnesses. She's fine with me taking said cookies into work, expected it really, with just the two of us. We try to be good people, nothing much really. She's looking so much better, recovering from pregnancy and premature delivery. Babby is a bright and lovely child, starting to find physiological stability from a too-early start.

My poor old back is dealing rather well, reassuring me that it really is largely healed. Normal sorts of aches, nothing electric, nothing persistent. After so long, this is so reassuring. Five years of constant pain, then the long, slow diminishment, leaves me here. Nine years on, and although I have to take care, use the roller, do my exercises, most days, I'm pretty good. Even when I've been digging and shoveling and pulling, after a solid day at work.

It's been a number of years since the last real migraine.

Incremental progress, only visible from a certain angle, after a stretch of time or distance.




*Store bought chocolate chip. Nice, but not our thing these days. OR people will demolish them with pleasure.

Damp

Not a day to dig, even though pulling the weeds up with the whole root would work very well. A bit damp and cold, even for me. We got a few inches, the mountains got a respectable dumping, lots of crashes on roads, and ecstatic skiers calling in "sick."

I console myself by starting the bee balm inside. I will take them out in a few weeks, cut a hole in the bottom and let them stay in their own little cup holders when I put them out in the soil.



Some will go out direct to ground, once the snow melts. Tiny, tiny, tiny wee seeds, hard to handle well. Plenty to go around, though. Thyme will have to wait for the weekend as well.

Moby basking in the sun. Out there the snow is melting madly. Likely all gone by evening, tomorrow afternoon certainly.





Addendum: Warmed up, and drew me irresistibly out. Remarkably easy to dig, weeds came out without a tug. Amazing progress. Lost one of my dragonfly/key earrings, which is in the nature of earrings, like socks. I asked the soil for it back, but acknowledged that I could hardly begrudge it either.

Pebble

Smile for the theodolite.


NPR has a couple of stories this week about ACE scores (Adverse Childhood Experiences) and it's health consequences. What drives me nuts is the resistance to gathering this data.

"There are no randomized controlled trials that show that applying these screening tools to a large population changes any outcomes that a patient cares about," says Young. "Someone's got to show me that it's going to actually make a difference in my patients' lives — and to my knowledge no one has done that."

Well, gee, who should do this? I dunno, maybe if every doctor asked these questions and it went into a study... wait, um. It's so much, "I haven't tried, I don't wanna try, it's toooooo haaaaarrd!" Let's see, no the past can't be changed, but proper referrals to ptsd counseling, other therapies, care for adult children who may be just starting to develop problems, or young children still at home could, oh, I dunno, maybe get help. Too many adults seem to think children are resilient, that abuse and neglect aren't that bad, kids will bounce back. Changing that attitude could have huge health effects. It's like seeing a population with measles, shrugging and saying "I can't stop them getting the disease, they already have it. Why bother? There are no studies to show anything will do any good." Nope, that is up to you to get started, right?

No one knows how much help, what strategies might work, since so many health pros don't even want to touch childhood abuse and neglect. A generation ago, cops would walk away from domestic abuse because it was too dangerous to them, and the (usually) wife would not press charges. Taking the onus of legal charges out of the hands of a dependent victim, understanding some of the mechanism of how that sort of abuse works, made huge differences in many lives. Not that the issue is resolved, but awareness of the gross injustice of violence in one's home, has to be a start.

I'm so grateful for the help I eventually got to transform. But getting it earlier, or even some help when I was still a child, I can only imagine. Instead of just clambering out of that emotional hole, oh, what mountains there were to climb. Without that damage... ah, well.

The next time I visit my gp, he's going to be asked about this. Oh, my, yes. Throwing my pebble into the impending avalanche.

Lizardo

"Dude."


With Crow's pointing, got the image up. Really liking the whole new look. Time for a change, past time perhaps. Chocolate minty, gentle colors. Plants and earth.

Dark skies, and now rain, rain, rain. Good for the garden, prevents me going out there to dig, even for 'just an hour.' For the best.

Glad I got so much done, to dig while the soil was soft, because beneath the weeds, and the wood chips, the clay was dense. No wonder I broke the first hoe I tried on that pottery the very first year. So much I had to learn before I could get this work done. And I really enjoy digging through, finding marbles and rings, finishing what needs doing.

Thyme and bergamot seeds are here, resisting the intense urge to get the bee balm started in soil in egg carton RIGHT NOW. No, no, waiting until Wednesday. Soon enough, soon enough. I've got it all planned out. Garden greed, but it involves generosity - wanting to share the beauty with everyone passing by.

Clearly

Sat by the other window to read, drink tea. Eleanor jumped up at the far end of the sill, hopped over the pot, and got behind the only closed blind.


Cleared nearly around the tree, stopping after an hour. D strongly suggesting I limit my digging, since I've been very sore, and my knees are wobbly. Will finish the rest Wednesday. Going carefully close to the tree, so as not to damage it, while clearing away weed roots.


I found a lot of these little woodlouse spiders. Colorful amid the brown soil, quite red. I'm in cowhide gloves, so I wasn't concerned.




Ready to return to work. Feeling a sense of accomplishment, and well rested.

Went to dinner with D's family, for his brother's birthday on Saturday, another brother visiting from SD. We are really enjoying having new nephews, gives his parents a focus, relieves us of a lot of conversational pressure. And they are both nice kids, bright and easy going - so far.

Changes

It had to happen. The old template simply wasn't working properly. Many posts were unavailable because there was no functioning Older Posts button.

If you have any ideas about how to add my motorcycle girl, I'd love to keep her. I still have her image, of course.




Just wouldn't be the same without her.

Fiddly

Doing the fiddly bits, now. Cleared the mass of weeds around the water shut-off valve. And intensive clearing near the edge, to give the thyme seeds purchase. Only wish I could have done a time-lapse of the process.

Getting colder this afternoon, good chance of rainsnow. Chickens are out. There are ducks, as well. I like watching them waddle and strut around.

Chandelier

This(look to the top) was the dining room light in my parent's house. It used to be height adjustable, but my brothers frequently jumped off their beds, in the room above, until they broke the mechanism. So the story goes. It had 150 watt bulbs, and made the dining room the best place to work when light, and a large flat surface, was required.

My aunt Alma bought a chandelier, with pseudo candles and dangling crystals, that I adored - except that the light was spotty, shadowy, and mostly lit the ceiling.

Not this, but this style.


The light in our dining room now is actually not bad, given it's origin. Wrong for the house, but largely inoffensive. We've broken it several times, it collects dust madly, and we keep the table right underneath it to avoid injuring ourselves on it.



Previous owners definitely had a designer infestation.

There are any number of fun, creative fixtures that probably do an awful job lighting a table.



However clever, not to live with, not for us.

The problem with a lot of chandeliers is that they were made for candles, adapted for gaslights, then electric bulbs, without being completely redesigned.







The idea of the candle is still there, with the light going up.

The one we ordered has a lens, and the light is directed down.

I think this is it, very like at any rate. Photo does not do it justice.

Lighting

Today,



Really doesn't take long for me to relax, two days off work, and the world is an easier place. Well, with my usual day off ahead of that, and a weekend to come.

We went to look for a light for the dining room. Those pronged halogen bulbs aren't going to last forever, they take a lot of energy, and we are not about to do a straight replacement when they blow. We found something, appropriate, and very functional. More than we'd hoped, but then, anything worth the trouble of installing runs about the same. We looked at a more traditional shop, it was hideosity en masse. There was one light I could have lived with. But it wasn't significantly cheaper.

So we went back to retrospect to look again. I spotted a very nice one that was smaller, without a price. We asked about it, and the owner tells me he just can't bring himself to sell it, a real vintage piece. I figure this means I have a good eye, if nothing else. Can't blame him, it had a presence. We look again at the one, among so many beauties, that struck me as most fitting. We consider some of the others, and decide we can swing it. As a permanent part of the house, it's not really that much. Owner gives us a small discount, which we appreciate very much.

And, well, hb.

Dug a bit more, just to get it looking more sorted. Then dug just enough to put down pease in the back. I'm just doing pease, with four roma tomato plants - they'll have to wait for May. The buckwheat and poppies can't go in until after last frost, and given it snowed a little on me today, I don't think we're there yet.

And found this,


Which seems to be from here, an Ohio pottery 1890-1929. Which makes sense, a lot of household goods made in Ohio were shipped west. As for how it wound up in the dirt of the verge, I suspect a moving mishap.



I'd found a few other bits of this white stoneware dish, but to find id is very cool.


Tomorrow, I'll put down the scarlet flax seed in front.

Thymebalm

After due research, I've ordered these.

Mintleaf Bee Balm (Monarda Fistulosa) - Grow Monarda Fistulosa seeds for this attractive and useful perennial plant. Also known as Wild Bergamot this perennial is an upright growing plant which spreads out. It has a lovely lavender blossom and distinctively aromatic foliage.

Creeping Thyme (Thymus Serpyllum Mother of Thyme) - Edge the borders of your herb, flower or vegetable garden with Mother of Thyme seed. It is low-growing and spreading, with spikes of lavender bloom clusters. Mother of Thyme blooms all summer long, and the foliage is an evergreen in most locations. Easy-to-grow from Creeping Thyme seeds, this creeping plant is also used between paving-stones or bricks in walk ways. It has a highly fragrant scent that rises up to greet you as you walk along a pathway of Mother of Thyme. It is a hardy perennial, handling summer heat and winter cold. Once it is established is can withstand periods of drought although moderate watering helps it perform its best. Butterflies and bees devour the Mother of Thyme herb blooms yet deer and rabbits seem to leave it alone.

Herhimnbryn sent, made, the most gorgeous card, which D insists (not that I objected) needs to be framed.
Correction "Glad you like it. I didn't make it though ( I wish)!

It's by a local-ish artist, I like her work and it can be found here....."





Read a few weeks ago about the Ash Wednesday Storm. I was always told I was born in a blizzard, my mother rather glad to be sitting in a hospital for the duration. Seems like my blizzard joined up to become the system to hit in the following week. Awesome.

Got some of the vanilla spumoni gelato to have with the gingerbread tomorrow, since I'm not fond of cake. Rather like christmas, we figure having sufficient food on one's b-day is important. That, not being at work, and not answering the phone make it exactly what I want. D is the only one I will accept fuss from.