Putty

A week in the house, and the dark paint on these grey days is getting to me. So, I got a sample of a lighter hue, and slapped it on the wall. Somewhat terra cotta. It's certainly better.

After seeing that color in daylight, it looked too much like Silly Putty. So I went back, and I think I have the better color chosen now. Paint tomorrow.

Needed enough idle time, to be properly rested and bored enough to want to take care of this sort of project. Boredom is sadly underrated.

Some previous posts on Names.

Sharing

Cats share sun.



Such shenanigans.

I have the week off work. The fatigue of the virus from November seems to have never completely lifted. No doubt emotional strain has not helped. So, I will truly rest, let the pool refill, heal my upper back and shoulder.

Looking out on snow. Much will melt, but even a short winter is better than none at all. For my northern soul.

HipHop

Vai likes his music loud, it's hip hop, ace of base, soundtrack from The Greatest Showman, I don't know how to describe it, not my taste, but so what. I ask him to keep it below my pain levels, and let it be while he's setting up in the morning and between cases. Whatever.

Dr. G likes the mix I have developed on pandora for him, angry chick, blues, brandie carlysle.

Not really compatible.

Vai wants to leave his on, see how long Dr. G lets it go before complaining. Sound way down by Vai's standards. Maybe 20 minutes into the 1st case, Dr. G asks...

"Zhoen, what are we listening to?"

I wave to Vai, who says, "It's mine. It makes me happy!"

Dr. G grunts, and says nothing else.


Next case, maybe 10 minutes in, Dr. G says, "Um... " eyebrows raised. I put on the Dr. G mix.


Third case setting up, Vai has his music back on, "I'm putting on the dance mix, want to see if I can get him to bop his head or tap his foot!" The fellow and Dr. G's PA are in on this. We are all a bit dancy.

We get started, maybe 5 minutes in, Dr. G stares at me, his head bopping in time to the beat but with intense irritation. And I say.

"VAI! You WIN!"

I change the music, let Dr. G in on the bet. He says, "That head bop didn't mean what you thought it meant."

I counter with, "Doesn't matter, Vai still wins!"

Everyone is laughing, including Dr. G, who despite being extremely dour and reserved, does have a wicked, if arid, sense of humor.

First time in a long time I've really laughed at work.

War

The world is at war.

That is the only way to see this.

And our young people are on the front lines being killed, even though there are no lines.

Death rides, and winter kills, the storm rages.

What follows is beyond us to know.

All we can do is what is in our reach. Try not to despair. Stay informed. Be ready.

Live.

Puppy

She's shown House the Home her soul. The kind of gift there is no point in even refusing for the sake of polite form. Wow. Amateur, but no less awesome. Folk art to a point.

Dream.

In a hospital or barracks, putting on oxygen for myself. A nurse I work with frantic that I had to come kill something, a bugge maybe? I remove the nasal cannula and follow her out to a muddy, rutted parade ground with a market set up, then to a sort of concrete bleachers. And a tiny, day old or fetal puppy. That I had to put down. I couldn't just step on it, or snap it's neck, but I knew I was the one who had to take care of this suffering creature. I got a cloth from a woman crying and useless, held the living thing in my hands in the cloth and stopped its breathing. Seemed the most kind way to kill it, and it squirmed a little in my cupped hands. I came to realize it's mother had rejected it, so it probably was wrong in some way. I held to my duty, but resented being the one who had to do this. Wanted to be sure to bury it properly, near the edge of the grounds churned up by tires and cars.

Woke with my hands to my side, but felt like they were still cupped, holding the near-fetal pup. Not wanting to let up until I was sure it was gone and I'd done what was necessary.

Year of the Dog.

Miserable feeling lingering.

PT exercises inducing sobbing. No particular memory, only the intense urge to weep. Pain more of an ache, referred, like a toothache.

Dyed a streak of hair, turned out rather lovely.

Waiting for snow. Took until February, but lows around 12°-16° F later this week. Never feel right in any year without proper winter. Northerner in the bones.

Dark day, strong winds last night. Waiting.

Painted

A friend painted the House.

The sun warms the Eleanor.

A snowstorm is heading our way, finally.

Dylan loved Black Panther, and I'll see it eventually not in a theater.

I'm daring to hope that however damaged, our country will shudder off this oppressive attack and survive in some form.

Getting PT for shoulder/upper back issues.

42,000 match sphere on fire.