Midnight

All four of us on the sofa.

Long ago, perhaps after my first phase of night shifts, or earlier - the night guard mount in Basic, I lost all belief in the charm of Midnight. I sincerely don't remember when, but I don't have it now. I remember savoring the first midnight I as allowed to observe, as a kid, no doubt at a New Year's Eve family party. It seemed amazing at the time, sleepy as I no doubt was. As I got to college, I knew I was no night owl, usually ready for bed by 10, later didn't help at all. Oh, I went drinking at semester breaks, but I tended to crawl home long before most everyone. I stayed up for New Year's Moment, but crashed soon after.

When I had to work night shifts, my brain crumbled. Lost all sense of humor or proportion, largely because I couldn't sleep during the day. This is not unprecedented. I was told as a baby I slept through the night very quickly - giving up the night feeding first of all. And resisted afternoon naps early. Never could sleep during the day. I may have taken a bit to get to sleep, but slept hard all through the night. My mother put me to bed early, and I was expected to stay there. Apparently a variation from her own childhood of lax to non-existent bed times, children went to bed as they felt the spirit move them. Not me, but it may well have made little difference.

Not that I enjoyed getting up early as a kid, I tended to want to sleep a lot. An escape to my room and unconsciousness.

So, tonight, I expect to turn in at more or less the usual time. Perhaps one of us will wake around midnight, and turn to the other and say "Oh, happy new year." Or not. Maybe at 0430.

So often I've had terrible years, and been glad to see the screen door hit 'em on the way out. This year... well, it's been fine. We've had our ups and downs. I have a good new manager, old manager pushed up and out, but most importantly - out. Dylan has a good new job. He's happier, doing better, despite the irritations of dealing with Public (with capitol P), he's also having more human interaction. Like Moby having to deal with Eleanor, who he didn't like, but she did him good, and now they are friends, if not cuddle buddies.



It's already 2016 somewhere on the planet. Good enough for me. Have a good start to the randomly assigned New year. Whenever you call the turn.

Soup

Moby wanted out, so I let him out to trudge through the snow, and hang out by the hedge to watch birds. I was in my parka, but starting to get cold, so I asked,

"Moby, it's cold. Don't you want to come in?"

He looked at me, considered, agreed, started in. By the time he hit the sidewalk he was hurrying. And trying to shake all his paws at the same time. Which was amusing, since it isn't really feasible to shake both back paws at the same time while hurrying. Once in, I nudged Eleanor off the heating pad, and turned it up. Moby took over once he was sure it was available, and warmed up his butt and paws.




"Man, that was cold."

Made more turkey soup for cats today.

Watching The Rookies, which is interesting. At least from a social cultural standpoint. Still in the era of Grande Theme Songs. Not a bad show, not at all, but very much of it's time. Applicable to now, though. Not much progress made, really. So earnest, could have used a dash of humor.

Animals

Animals.

The mule deer hang around outside the windows at work, eating scrub trees and napping in the snow.


Meadowlark Lemon died. He was 83, which is a pretty good run. Still.

Glad to be busy at work today. Idleness does not become me, not for more than a day, two at most.

Box

Happy Box Day!

“I can’t believe it’s that time of year already.”

“You mean the holidays?”

“Well, I call it box season, but yeah.”

- Steve, Lower East Side

Via Felines of New York.



We have vowed to get out today. Despite it being only 10˚F, -12C.

Beans

Neighbor stopped by with a treat. Gave her the Panettone we'd gotten from Trader Joe's a while back. Much as I love it, we've eschewed high-carb foods, and I've rather gone off anything bready or cakey generally. Planned to bring it to work, but... meh. Rather give it to neighbors. May get a very small one and call it plenty and more.

Will take parental bread-gift to work. Not sure what to do with neighbor-bread-gift yet. Likely the same fate. It will be et, surely.



So proud of Dylan for taking his health in hand, which has got us both eating better, walking more. I'm joining in mostly, not worrying that I "should" do more. Calling it better and moving along.


Researching Hogmanay, probably re-reading Hogfather, working on next week. In our small, agoraphobic, introverted way. No beans, certainly.

Track

Moby went out, carefully trekked through the snow to the hedge. Went in mid-leg deep, licked a paw clean of snow. Shook his paws, and gingerly retraced his steps and ran back inside. He's dozing on the heating pad.

We've made a taco feast, but snow falling heavily where Dylan's brother lives. We called them, to let them off the holiday hook. We'll be seeing them another day. Parents will be by shortly-ish. This is fine. BIL, SIL and Nephew have her big family to see, in the other direction, we don't want to be an obligation.

Having people over for holidays is good, since otherwise we tend to bang against the walls with nothing to do. Very convenient when everyone has the same day off. Other than that, I don't put importance on a DAY. Celebrations are too important to leave them up to the whims of weather and circumstance. Call it a Holiday, Birthday, Whatever, and Whiz-bang, it is one!

Obligation is anathema in my heart.

May you all have much celebration, whenever it happens.

Eve

Song to the furry friend.

Chewing

The morning mood, chewing at my mother's love of all that is sugary, floury and baked, eschewing all fresh and green vegetables, and my obsessing on the nutritionless attractions of her version of "unconditional love." Fairyland food, empty and ultimately sickening, but it looks so nice it takes a long time to see it for what it is. Yeah, that state of mind. There were always chocolate chips, flour, sugar, walnuts*, food coloring, sprinkles in the cupboard, but no matter how much I asked for frozen vegetables - like Aunt Alma made for me, to my mother the only vegetables were canned corn and mashed potatoes. And health food was liver and onions. That my gut was always upset bothered her not enough to change my diet, although she was constantly finding a new diet for herself to slim back down. Oh, she would safely claim she would gladly change places with me when I was sick, but not find the cause and change that. My father's verbal abuse the white elephant in the room, to be ignored.



Yeah, that mood. Snowed madly for a couple of hours this morning, blew through. Roads mostly clear most of the way to work. Nothing scary.

I really haven't indulged in treats this season. Unappealing. I really don't like cake, feel no draw toward anything home-made. Absolutely repulsed by cheap store-bought, although I do have some of the better stuff. Don't think I've had anything more than I usually would on any given day, only in the afternoon, when I'm crashy and don't have anything like an orange or dried fruit.

Remembering being at MGH PACU for day-surgery, and from Thanksgiving to New Year there would be better and better and BETTER! chocolates and treats of increasing, professional, quality that destroyed my resolve to not have any more. I think I went a bit toxic on chocolate at the end.

Funny, home-made is a bit suspicious to me. Cheap store bought unappealing. But the good stuff, yeah, that hits whatever is left of my sweet-tooth. I ate all the desserts as a kid, it seemed like I enjoyed it. Even then, cake was just a delivery system for fudge frosting. A real treat for me was spinach, or rhubarb from the garden, or a slice of lemon sucked after fish&chips at a diner.


I shopped for our Christmas Taco Gathering for Dylan's family this morning. Then headed up to work to cover lunches on a very busy day - and short staffed. Got to say goodbye to a nurse who... I liked as a person, but hated working with. She's retiring, and moving away, gave me a big hug as I left after giving her lunch. So much annoyance, but good hearted in her own way. I hope when she is no longer tied to her Perfect Nurse Identity, she is happier and less prone to anger and micromanaging. I won't miss working with her. I won't miss her crankiness or criticism. Or trying to tell me how to chart, under my own license. Or assuming I don't have enough forks at my next party (I have lots of forks.)

Dr. T gave us another Christmas bonus in Christmas cards, not as much as last year, but I didn't expect anything, so it's all amazingly good. I used it to buy beer and some sake, with enough leftover for the remaining holiday groceries.

Dylan and I have one rule for Christmas, there has to be food. I expect the stories about that are at the labels, if you haven't been told too many times. Our first Christmas together in Ft. Carson, the mess didn't tell the reservists when the holiday meal was, there were no cabs to go out to the Chinese restaurants, no one had cars, busses weren't running, and neither Pizza nor Chinese were delivering on base that day. We skipped the booze, ate some sugary treats from care packages shared, and, starving in the afternoon we scored some oranges and snuck off to eat them alone together, shaking and hungry. We made vows to each other that day, and have kept them since. Enough Food ON Christmas. One of our few Absolute Rules.

We have enough food for the whole weekend. FYI.


LED lights, not using a lot of electricity. Cheerful, though. And that is the stocking Dylan made at work, rather pretty.



We stopped sending cards many years ago. A few people still send us cards, on rare years. This is fine by us, as the good ones get packed away with the Christmas tree and lights, and are permanent features of our decorations. I think the penguin is amazing.





In an odd, but not bad mood. One more half-ish day, not a big deal. Our director of anesthesia tried to get all the cases shifted up to the Main Hospital. No one else objected strenuously. We give him credit for trying for us. It's usually a mellow day, and the patients get extra time to heal that doesn't count against their sick time. A small day, then home, and no driving until... well, Monday if I can stretch it.

Happy Solstice, it's all brighter from here.

Bon Hiver.

Let all mortal flesh keep silence.


Butts on Fire.


*Walnuts trigger awful cankers on my mouth. Probably always have. I always had them over Christmas. Gee. Wonder why.

Walnuts

Bitter dreams of sweets,
Baked bads, sugary walnuts,
Chocolate neglect.


And later,

I saw three trucks* come circling in, come circling in, come circling in.
I saw three trucks come circling in On Christmas Eve eve in the morning.


And what was in those trucks all three, those trucks all three, those trucks all three?
And what was in those trucks all three, On Christmas Eve eve in the morning?


Three trucks with plow and salt and sand, and salt and sand, and salt and sand
Three trucks with plow and salt and sand, On Christmas Eve eve in the morning.






*To the tune of I Saw Three Ships.

Electric

Electric heating pad detente.

Shite

Rain all morning, until it turned to snow. Not cold enough to stick to pavement, only where there was already snow. Clear streets are useful. Sun even tried to come out, resulting in a foggy haze.

My cousin had to put her beloved husband in a care center for his dementia. He's doing wonderfully, she is wracked by grief, loneliness and doubts. Of course she is. He was, is, a great soul, kind and intelligent and warm. I met him once, at my Uncle Walt's funeral, and fell completely in love. When I met him again 20 years later, it was as if no time had passed at all. Cousin is heartbroken and a little lost, and I've been writing to her nearly every day. Not to console, but to distract.

She's doing it all the right way. He asks where she's been she says "at work" or "doing laundry" - never "I was home." She wants her life with him, but he's gone, but he's not. A corpse-bride.

When Dylan shattered his elbow, had 4 hour surgery the next day, stayed in the hospital (vomiting) overnight, I (We, several of Dylan’s friends got me through) got him home and settled if not comfortably, and all I wanted was to hug him. Which wasn’t going to happen. He hurt too much, it was all too much.

The next day, with him lying down in about as much comfort as he could find, I needed to hold him so badly. Oh, so gingerly, I crept over him, and we held each other, careful of any left arm movement. For a few moments only. He needed it too, but nowhere near as much as I did. I can only guess this is a shadow of what Cousin is feeling. Only, hers is permanent, and heartbreaking.


Dylan got a text this morning, a cow-worker ill, asked for this afternoon's shift coverage. He sighed deeply, then said he would. I walked with him to work, then came home. This is what I've always done for work, when asked, I cover if I can.

Saw a mini cooper do an illegal turn, the fourth time I've seen a mini cooper do some bad, aggressive or illegal driving in just the past week. There seems to be a very definite pattern.

Stopped at the grocery store on the way home, and people are losing their collective shit. Time to avoid all shopping, even for groceries, for a solid week. They have installed a security system for their carts, so the wheels lock if anyone tries to remove them. Friday night, in the ice and snow, some guy managed to get one just past our place. Saturday morning, someone moved it to the neighbor's verge. Then to the driveway, and I shifted it to our verge. Overnight, others moved it to the sidewalk (don't ask me why, because) then into the middle of the sidewalk. Neighbor and I both called Store yesterday. I called twice today, to less and less interest on their part. So, I called the police - non-emergency number. Within an hour, a Store employee appears, unlocks the wheels, looks in the cart and flings the trash inside on my neighbor's lawn. I called after her, and she ignores me. Wrong answer. I call her manager.

I understand it's not their fault some dick stole their cart. That locking the wheels will help prevent further shopping cart debris. But if it hadn't locked, I would have taken the cart back myself. I've done it a number of times before. I understand that having to walk a block and a half from the store to retrieve a stolen cart is a rather sucky part of the job. But dumping that trash on a lawn of someone else who doesn't deserve it, is terrible karma. Better for her to hear about it immediately, and realize people do watch, and do care. I was sitting by the front window reading.

I took care of the trash, that's not the issue. I do the job in front of me. I know she looked young, she doesn't get that it's not personal, that jobs suck. But cry me a river, I've cleaned up rivers of shit for work - at minimum wage. What she did was not ok, not ok to compound the sin.

Cooked up more catfood yesterday, turkey soup essentially. Got Turkey Backs (that's how it was labeled) for cheap, added duck gizzards from the Asian store, turmeric (anti-inflammatory), pumpkin (fiber) and a spoonful of chicken bouillon (salt), slow cooked for 4 hours. Removed bones and skin, blended gizzards and returned to soup. Moby loves it, Eleanor is dealing and no longer crying for kibbles. Although when I eat anything crunchy, she must check to see if it is for her. She took a leftover cracker from Dylan's plate the other day and ate it on the carpet. Which is why I added bouillon - maybe she needs a bit of salt. Seems to have helped today. Really is much cheaper than commercial cat food, even supplementing it with Trader Joe cat food and canned chicken. Still adding lactulose to cats to keep shit moving.

They have definitely changed their bowel habits as well, since the Great Food Changeover. Fewer turds, darker, although squishier (appearing). More pee. Prettier fur.

Yup, I know shit.

And

Just us chicks.

Crabby

I have no idea. Saw this guy earlier when I was out, and he seemed to have a rather fluffy afro. But now he seems to have snow on top of it.

The shopping cart showed up Thursday evening, a bit down the block. Although how the guy got it there with locked wheels I don't know. This morning, it was on the neighbor's verge, so I called the store. Not long after, a guy manages to drag it to the sidewalk. I went out after him and told him "Good job, that didn't help at all, idiot!" He kept walking, ignoring me, but I know he heard me. I wrestled it up on the verge, out of the walkway.

This is a very weird neighborhood.

Tree up on a whiskey barrel, then used to make beer. So of course the angel is drunken.




More details of ornaments. The bell is old, found in a second hand shop, not sure where the bit of lace comes from, but they clearly belong together.




Ah.



People.

Posts

This morning, the cats huddled in the warmest room. Dylan prefers warm these days, and keeps the heater on, and the cat-heating pad on as well. The cats seem to be fine sharing, one on my robe, the other the pad.



While Dylan is at work, I take a break to read, and Eleanor comes for attention. This morning, as she sat on my chest, I heard those high-pitched overtones in her purr that indicate she has claimed me as HERS. Not like that surprizes me.




Moby came by as well, since, sun.



This evening, they have resumed their posts.

Bitters

Solstice Tree with House and Cats. A cheerful sight from the window when I drove in last night. Hard, hard week, arms aching from shoveling. B at work says everyone is "Bitter and Crabby" for being exhausted. This morning she noted that no one was chatting in the break room because we were all too tired. No one had the energy to object, even if we wanted to.

Dylan got a new shovel yesterday afternoon, and so more of the ice off the drive. Warmer temps mean a lot of what is on pavement will melt over the next few days, up around 45˚F 7C.


Phil, finally got this photo for you.



I really need to clean the car, expunge some of the inside dust and outside salt deposits. Tomorrow might be a good day for that. If I can get my arms working properly.

Goats

All I want for Christmas is Goats*.

Got me laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. (O)Holy Night in particular. Oh. My.

Started getting the tree up. Forgot we'd put it in the basement, rather than the back closet. Took me a good long, frustrating time, to remember this. It's about time. Ready for Monday.

Which is the Solstice.

Dylan remembered this morning that yesterday was our legal anniversary, which we largely forget. We, no really - he, figured we're at 22 years. I can't do arithmetic at 0430. We have never celebrated it, although we do try to note it, in passing. Often in past years, we remember it only because we get a card from his parents. We count the full 25 years, and don't let anyone tell you different.

Felines of New York twitterfeed had a survey, asking if we'd given our cats a middle name, Yes, or No, but I will now.

Eleanor "Sparky" McFluffbutt
Moby Ishmael Ninjacat.

There.

*The lush orchestral arrangements are like those one would expect to find on any Christmas album, except the lead vocals and familiar lyrics have been replaced with the agonized shrieking of goats. The result is an album that captures both the sentimentality and the nerve-fraying angst of the holiday season.

Boots

Helluva storm for so early in the year, and people are being particularly idiotic about it. As per.



Plows left a berm of dirty, slushy ice where the driveway meets the curb, which I took on this morning. Once with the garden shovel, a sturdy steel thing, good for chipping. Also with the electric shovel, which handled it better than I expected. Our decent ergonomic shovel got stolen sometime Tuesday night. Our fault for leaving it on the porch, which usually isn't a problem. Probably some wanderer looking to make money shoveling, or selling said shovel. Since every store is clean out of snow shovels, yesterday, today, and until later tomorrow most likely. Dylan will go over to ACE tomorrow, and replace it. Hopefully.

Also got more ice melt, the back is icy as hell, and we are running low. Warmer temps the next two days, so it will likely clear, as so often here, once a bit of sun hits it.

My arms are rubbery and inept. Stopped to get beer, managed to break a bottle in the store. Stayed there to apologize, which the employee took nonchalantly. I hadn't had a drop at that point, my hands just weren't working. He assured me that working in a place full of glass bottles, this happened more often than I might think. I laughed, and said I still wanted to apologize. And blame it on snow clearing activities.



A local brew, not wonderful, but good enough. And rather potent.

Also found out Monday that my boots are defunct.



So, I found a new pair. On sale. Very warm and light and flexible. Took a bit of looking, and help. Could only see the $84 (On Sale!) ones for a long while, and wasn't impressed. But a kind employee reoriented me, and told me of an extra discount, so I got the perfect boots for a grand total of $41.



And probably just as important, not all black. As so much of our stuff is. Which makes it difficult to find stuff.

Got the bird feeder back out, snow cleared. Eleanor enjoyed.




Taking life very slowly this afternoon.