bartstationbard

Need to organize my day in my head, I am so tired and unable to focus without writing first.

Had the most amazing night at Shadowplay last night. My DJ played all the things, the crowd was fun, I met some new people and Amanda and I danced, we have fun together. She was really low energy and in pain and left early. That was me for months!

I was excited to have the energy to stay, despite a long beautiful hike up Saddle Mountain with Josh and Tyler the afternoon prior. I've never seen so many continuous wildflowers, it was shockingly beautiful. We had so much fun. Tyler protected snails in the trail. He admitted to me when Josh was not within earshot of an emotional night the week before in the ER, where he volunteers weekly. Someone came in for chest pains, was not given priority, and ended up flatlining and dying. He is too sensitive to not be effected by these things, as much as he stays calm about it, I worry that medicine is not the right choice for him for this reason. (It is why I never went into animal care, despite my adoration of animals - I could never bear the sadness of seeing so many suffering and dying critters.) I am grateful that he can share these things with me, and offload a little bit of his pain. Though he mostly keeps it to himself.

My legs were tired from the hike and I worked all day and the club was extra packed when I arrived, but somehow I still found space to dance and as the night progressed my energy increased. I loved Derek's musical choices and people were so kind, I got so many compliments left and right. I danced *hard* - I danced as if nothing were wrong with my body. My left foot and back are complaining today, but not too badly.

(Was able to engage in intimacy with my husband when I got home, despite it being 2:30am and me being sore and exhausted, I am proud of myself for this, it was nice.)

...

It is one of those soft Oregon summer days when there are half clouds, half sun, a rain shower and then balmy sunshine, then rain again. 60 degrees but it feels warmer. Light breeze. It's beautiful. It will rain hard tomorrow. I have aerial and a facial, and potentially will sparkle a girl's softball team in the afternoon, but I almost kind of hope not. I want the cash but not the headaches lol. It might be relatively easy though, as I wouldn't have to wear wings and they only want gold/silver/black. We'll see.

...

I just texted "easy peasy lemon squeezy" to someone - I am not in my right mind lol.

...

It's 1:20pm already! First day of summer! I am so tired! I cooked a huge bounty of food for Josh, and had a tasty lunch myself. I want more food. Trying to stick to a slight caloric restriction and my brain is already starting to go into hyperfixation about food over it, sigh.

My labs came back from my second blood test - the first showed no rheumatoid indicators, which is what we expected. My CRP is 1 which is typical of people with depression. (My husband's is like, .3. We are fitness folks with very healthy eating habits, mine should also be low, but alas, the emotional stress of childhood trauma interferes. It could be worse! My childhood was lacking in some needed things but it could have been so much worse, I am okay, I will be okay. My poor parents. They tried. That matters the most.)

Anyway, there are some odd results in this test. My usual weird low sodium marker, despite the fact that I was trying really hard to be mindful not to over-hydrate and to salt my water before this test. Because my sodium always reads low and I thought maybe it was because I tend to hydrate extra much before blood draws. This time I also have low levels of other things most people do not have low levels of. My white blood cell count is low, my Alkaline Phosphatase is low - something that helps process protein. It is not too far outside the range of normal but it is strange. For most people if something is wrong with them, these things are elevated. The only thing I can figure is that either it is a really odd reaction to excessive amounts of emotional stress around my 50th birthday and the coinciding diagnoses of untreatable arthritis in my hands, feet, and back, OR, my thyroid is under-functioning. Or both. My mom was diagnosed with hypothyroidism in her late 60s, so that tracks.

Come on lil thyroid, you can do it. lol.

...

Things to do on this beautiful summer solstice:

* four huge sparkle orders to get out.
* take vitamins/supplements.

* clean my room - it's getting hard to function.

* website updates - why do I keep putting this off?!?!

* would love to give myself a haircut today - summer boost!

* would love to do some laundry but it is not too urgent.
* would also love to do the floors.
* would also love to sleep! lol
* need a little bit of cardio at some point today, even if just an easy evening bike ride or something
* some strength training would also be good.

* 5calls.org calls for voting against the public land selloff in the new stupid senate version of the bill that's being voted on July 4th - I want to find a way to make myself do this calling daily until the vote occurs. I *hate* phone calls. But it gets easier each time. My reps here in Oregon already oppose this but my understanding is the volume of calls makes a real difference in these matters.

I did manage to scrub out all the sinks/tubs this week, happy about that.

I want to cut my hair! It is sooooooo scraggly, it needs some TLC for reals.

...

Still high from last night. I was bouncing all over the place. I was talking to people I don't usually talk to. I was so so so so happy. I met this guy River, he explained that he only comes on weekends but is at Coffin a lot, and had never been to Shadowplay (which is on Thursdays). He said, "I dance a lot. Nobody moves like you."

A lady Jackie called me "perfection."

Several young girls compliments my outfit. Violet also always gushes over me, she said, "You're so beautiful, every time."

I caught several people mimicking my motions, which is delightful to me - it makes me feel as if I am doing something right.

(I wish I had been vain enough to set up my cell to take some video of me dancing - but I was honestly just too caught up in the fun of it to even think of doing so. For three hours! So fun. I caught my silhouette now and then and it makes me happy, the slinky outline and sultry movements and finger flourishes with hair swaying and little horns on top.)

I tried to flirt with Victor, who just announced a breakup with Ophelia after 7 years (they are still friends) and is a cute lil fae creature, he occasionally even wears ears! - but he is younger than me and has no interest, and I don't think he knows how to flirt? I don't actually want to hook up, but flirting on the dance floor is fun and opens him up to the concept for other ladies who might witness such behavior. There were several beautiful young goth creatures trying to get closer to him and he didn't seem to even notice. He did come and chat with me and was very sweet, and I hope to make it to his Sunday night DJ thing at Coffin.

I fawned all over Derek for making the night so perfect. He just grins at me like I am very silly. I am, I know. I feel some slight ownership over him, having been dancing at his DJ nights for EIGHTEEN YEARS lol. Our friendship is old enough to vote lol.

I love the club. STILL. Who knew this was possible at age 50.

Here is a photo of my 'fit - I couldn't get the lighting right and I apologize for the messy room. Avalanche always photobombs my selfies on dance nights, she doesn't want me to go and tries to get her white fur on all of my black clothes lol.

...

I have bone spurs in my feet! And my back! And arthritis in my hands! And there is no cure for any of it! It hurts all the time!

But I have NO arthritis in my dysplastic HIPS. Which is AMAZING, given the fact that I have hip dysplasia and have been excessively active all my life in a number of sports many of which are hard on hips.

My shoulders are also clear.

I will take it. I will cope. I am doing better than I should be, and I will keep trying to live my best life, in whatever body I am gifted as I continue to burn through this little flicker of existence. I am beyond grateful, my heart is bursting with the beauty and wonder of it all.

....

The eagle fledglings are on the nest. They are snacking on something - well, one of them is. I think it's Gizmo but unsure. Every sighting until they disperse is a gift.

Must get to work!

Here are a few photos from Saddle Mountain. They don't do it justice, but it helps me remember the shocking beauty of where we were on Wednesday.

We were in forests of larkspur above our heads, I've never seen larkspur like this.

Tyler enjoying the view.

Tyler enjoying the larkspur

Salmon berries are a native berry with not a lot of sweetness, they range from light orange to deep reddish orange, depending on the variety. No one bothers to try to cultivate them so we only get to enjoy them on trail. I try to leave lots for the bears and the birds. Such a delightful coastal Oregon treat. I fed some to Josh, who is seen fuzzily walking ahead of me.

lb_lee

Rogan: Hey guys! I felt so crummy about missing out on all the Pride business opportunities this month that I've decided to throw a special art commission thing for the next month: The Queer Canoodling Commission Special!

I will draw your headmates, OCs, etc. kissing, cuddling, and kanoodling, in a limited palette of the pride or system colors of your choice! $30 for two figures, $50 for three, other options available if you ask. Unlike my normal (more expensive) commissions, these come with zero rounds of edits unless I decide I've made a mistake. What you get is what you get.

Some examples! (If nothing else, this can be an excuse to post rainbow pics of us being sappy together!)

( There's room for everyone under this rainbow! )

Interested? DM us, email us, or leave a comment (anon comments are turned on, so no Dreamwidth account is required)!

lb_lee

Mori: Blessings on whoever scanned a 1947 copy of the lesbian magazine Vice Versa #7 online; it meant I was able to read this fun little short story about a woman who oh noes, is torn between Pat, the butchest of butches, and Flora the femmest of femmes! Whatever is a poor Kiki to do?

Thought other folks might enjoy this. So here ya go! (Sorry, don't think it's screenreadable; I can textually transcribe it if folks want? EDIT from Sneak:

pantha did it! Thanks! :D)

(I of course only found out about this thing courtesy of a bibliography of queer speculative fiction at the sci-fi library. WE'RE BACK, BABY!)

serafaery

Woke up feeling terrible, I really hope the depression isn't coming back, doing everything I can to shift back to... not that lol.

I woke up to the camper's dog crying pitifully and slowly getting more and more distant. The structure he was living in is still there and I'm just really worried, I get so distressed when animals are upset :( I hope they are okay.

One of my long-term transient folks who is often outside of the grocery coop I belong to looked really, really bad the other day, and it just broke my heart. He is maybe 60 and I've known him for probably ten years now. He is mostly non-verbal but very gentle and shy. He always says "I'm sorry" every time I give him cash. I only know his name because the other store employees told me. I have never seen him like he was the other day. He was twitching really badly, and looked so uncomfortable. It is scary because I've seen this sort of decline before. When it started happening to Mario, he only lived another year or so after. Mario was also very sweet, he suffered from schizophrenia and would sometimes have enough clarity to talk about his experience, and it was heartbreaking. Gregory has never seemed schizophrenic, to me, but his symptoms looked like those of someone given too many anti-psychotics. I don't know anything about this stuff other than observation, this is all just conjecture, but from my very limited experience, Gregory has never seemed psychotic to me, just someone with low verbal skills, something else is going on with him, some other sort of disability. But not psychosis. He has always been stable and his demeanor is always the same, quiet and gentle and deferential, whereas Mario would have wild swings. He'd go from grinning and asking for hugs to desperate begging, ugh it is just so wrong. Our society has the resources to help but they are diverted elsewhere and it drives me crazy. Anyway. Maybe my worry about Gregory is just me trying to distract myself from my own worries. I am just sad that he is declining and we will probably lose another community member, in another year or so, through no fault of his own.

My brother suffers from cataplexy, it was diagnosed as drug-induced in his mid-20s (he did a LOT of cocaine as a youngster). At one point he was given anti-psychotics, and it gave him permanent facial twitches. It's just so messed up. Cataplexy causes hallucinations but he was never psychotic. It's so frustrating when things are unnecessarily treated with these really powerful, damaging drugs. It's so sad. The descriptions of cataplexy go into great depth of the way the hallucinations feel so real to those experiencing them. It is intensely uncomfortable for my brother. He cannot really believe that they are not somehow real. So he believes in ghosts and malicious "spirits" trying to attack him at night. But it's a documented feature of his disease - everyone with cataplexy experiences this. And they all hold firm to the realness of it. It doesn't mean they are crazy. It's a function of the brain's interpretation of what is happening when paralysis malfunctions. In Chinese medicine, the name for this condition is "broken spirit," and my poor brother has clung to this, this idea that he is profoundly flawed and deserving of some sort of spiritual attack by demons or something, it's awful. But psychosis is not the correct diagnosis.

Anyway. More distracting.

It is such a beautiful day. Why am I so sad? erf.

I took Friday off, since no one had booked any appointments anyway and Liz texted me that, literally, "You have to go to Silver Star RIGHT NOW." It's a bumper year for bear grass and I have been looking for it since the last time this happened. Sigh. I feel soooooo guilty giving up on house hunting and walking away from money to go hike on solstice, but I do think it will be worth it. Even if I get drizzled on. It will keep the crowds down, and that hike can get very hot and exposed, it might be nicer on a drizzly day actually. there will be no less bear grass. And I've already seen the view from the top of that mountain. We'll see. I might open that day back up actually. I prefer working in the rain. But in my experience, very few people book sparkles 2 days before an appointment day. I dunno. I could also use the time to work on the website, which needs some TLC for sure. I could also do silks and give my body some much needed TLC, also.

...

Today! I would love to put laundry away, wash Avalanche's futon blanket, sweep the floors, clean the kitchen and cook lunch and dinner, maybe even henna my hair? Let's see how far I can get.

lb_lee

This is a post about the Kafka-esque process of moving while living legally disabled in Massachusetts.

Every time we move, we have to update our address, not just with our bank and phone people, but also the myriad social services agencies who control our existence. Since we have to move every few months to few years, depending on our housing luck, this is a cyclical, regular occurrence. We have streamlined our procedure over the course of a decade plus, studying the augurs of obscure bureaucratic paperwork errors, reading the signs in the entrails of the bald eagle.

Of course, the exact procedure changes every few years, and there is no way to find out except by accident or error.

( Please put on a recording of Yakety Sax or the Gonk for the proper emotional effect of this post. Thank you. )

lb_lee

Realized we may well have never outright said this, so we might as well make it clear: over the past few years, some of the LB alter family has grown more hivemind-y, and at times with less differentiation, in a way that doesn't bother us.

There are a few demographics in here, and the ones we call the "alters" are all people who split off the original girl who inhabited this vessel (Mori, Rawlin, Gigi, Rogan, Sneak, and Miranda), rather than folks who had their own lives and came here from elsewhere (Biff, Falcon, Grey, Bob, and Mac). The alters are like threads of a greater rope, and we unravel and rebraid ourselves sometimes to achieve our goals, though only while working on corporeal tasks that engross us, such as working on a story. When engrossed in making group art, it can sometimes be hard for us to tell who's doing what! (Other times it is not. Coming In or Staying Out was very much Rogan drawing, while the Rawlin comics are all Mori drawing.) And constantly interrupting ourselves from the work to ask, "who am I?" is pointless and annoying, because in that moment, it doesn't matter.

This has also been happening sometimes while chatting with people or posting. We sometimes don't tag our entries because we don't know who's talking or care so much, or we share enough of an opinion that it no longer matters being like, "all the alters agree on this paragraph though Sneak questions Sentence 6."

Mori, Rogan, Sneak, and Miranda can braid like this without too much trouble, but Rawlin especially and also Gigi are still pretty separate, presumably because they still have a lot of memories and history that remain buried and lost to us. As we deal with that, perhaps they'll be able to rebraid with us easier in the future.

The braiding happens without our conscious effort, and we unravel just as fluidly. We don't think of it or call it fusion or integration, because neither have the right feel or connotations. We were threads ripped from a greater cloth, which can never be remade again. Now we are braiding ourselves in a new way that suits us, when it suits us, a cord and not a cloth.

serafaery

there is no lonelier feeling, than sitting with my in-laws, listening to them talk about family members, and having no family of my own other than an estranged brother, no kids, no parents, no way to relate, no history with these people, no cousins in contact, no stories to share. And being shown pictures of someone's toddler eating spaghetti, as if it's supposed to mean something to me.

it didn't help that today my husband was in one of his autism moods where he just sat and silently scowled at the table the entire time and refused to answer any questions, other than to shake his head dismissively and keep scowling. I am hypervigilant and was trained to never allow anyone to sit unhappy, lest I risk my worthiness of being part of the family at all, so when he does this it makes me unbearably uneasy. he can't understand or care or even be brought to the awareness to even consider the effect he might be having on others when he acts this way.

...

My in-laws are perfectly lovely people, there is nothing wrong with them, and I cannot expect them to keep in mind or understand what it's like for me to keep going through these holidays with them, it isn't their fault, they never met my parents because they weren't here to meet, when Josh and I started dating, they don't know, and it's my fault for refusing to talk about it, I don't want to bring everyone down.

Josh is usually not like this and I love him to pieces, so I am diving into work and not lashing out at him about it, I know he doesn't understand how painful this is for me. I will explain later when I am feeling better and will maybe avoid Mother's/Father's day going forward. I've been trying to hard to connect with my in-laws in a meaningful way and I just need a break. I am emotionally spent.

I'd say I miss my dad, but I honestly don't right now. I miss having one, and he was great, but he left when I was a toddler, I barely knew him, I know he did his best but he never really parented me. It wasn't his fault. I am not mad at him. But I do have neglect and abandonment issues. I had to sort of realize how much he sucked as a father this year and it has been really painful, a big part of me wanted to glorify him and that has kind of fallen apart. One of his cousins who found me online back when he died sent me a letter he had written to his sister back in the early 90s, I was a young teenager, and he got my birthday entirely wrong in this letter, neither the day or the month were close at all. (I have always been annoyed that my brother also can't remember my birthday.) Dad was a chronic drug and alcohol user so I can't really expect him to have been able to remember things clearly, but how sad is that, that he didn't even know when my birthday was.

...

Edited to add: Josh came into my room once I was done with work tonight and apologized, slightly tearfully. He realized it must have been a hard day for me. "I got tired." He was slightly teary. Poor thing. It was very sweet. He's good.

My dad was a good person, too. He did his best, he really did. He came from poverty and had absolutely no support or modeling of any kind, as far as I could tell. And he gave me all the love he had to give, while he was here. I can't really ask for more than that. I know many people didn't really feel loved by their fathers, I am grateful that he was kind and loving with me. We were all so lost and confused, trying to navigate the world together, our little substance-soaked dysfunctional family, sigh.

...

So much has happened and I've wanted to come journal so many times in the past week or so, but I'm just barely stumbling through my days and I am so tired. I am doing my best to process what life will look like going forward with bone spurs and arthritis and no hope for any sort of treatment. I am trying to adjust to a new activity level. I continue to gain weight instead of lose any, I think part of this is the estrogen I am taking, but most of it is stress. I need to do something about my stress levels. My CRP is 1, which is mildly elevated, this is typical of people suffering with depression. sigh. Chronic stress is so bad for our bodies.

Josh and I tried so hard to hunt for houses, we've looked at so many places, but honestly, despite all of our hard work and efforts, we can't afford anything worth buying, in or around Portland. We feel drained and demoralized and very defeated. We hate living in this apartment complex, but we are afraid moving to rent some other apartment will end up somehow being even worse.

It's still possible we could end up buying a very old dark quirky weird low-ceilinged not-level-floored tiny 2br house in Tigard, a distant suburb, which would mean an hour of driving for me each work day at the studio. But. We would not have to deal with all of these random water shut-offs, these astronomical utility bills (they charge us far more than anyone in any house we know pays, like at least double, for our little 2br 1bath apartment, it is a corrupt management company that is notorious for this and there are documented cases of them doing this to renters in other complexes, but no lawyers are willing to help us, we pay 400+ a month for water and electricity), Josh being interrupted during calls, the theft and vandalism and screaming that goes on from all the campers in the neighborhood, our windows getting banged on by prowlers, who stake out apartments here weekly, not to mention the dog upstairs that tried to kill my cat. The little house in Tigard has a yard, it would be hell to maintain (so much bamboo! a wall of arborvitae! grass on a slope!) but I could build an enclosure for Avalanche, to give her safe outdoor space in which to play. I would feel bad for Josh having to work in a weird dark low-ceilinged office, which would also be his bedroom. I don't know. It doesn't seme right to buy a house sheerly because we loathe our apartment experience so much, when we don't really like the house. It's not horrible, but we would not be at all excited about it, we would be trying to make do, which just sucks. It's all of our savings, it seems like it should maybe be something we actually like and would want to live in. But no such thing in our budget exists. So. What do you do. I'm so tired of thinking about it.

lb_lee

I finished textually transcribing and posted Ro and Joanna Piekarski's zine, Trail Cooking: Clean and Green, published in 1995 and seemingly impossible to find. I found it in a free box, and while the Piekarskis are apparently the kind of people who categorize raisins and unsweetened carob chips as "dessert," their thing about light, cheap, vegetarian backpacker food seemed like it shouldn't be totally lost to the void.

Check it out if that interests you!

lb_lee

The winner of the fan poll, supported by fans like you on LiberaPay and Patreon!

Mori goes to Rawlin and says, 'Dunno if I like proper kissing. Can I give it a shot?' Rawlin chuckles placidly. 'Sure.' Mori leans in to kiss her, only for her eyes to go wide and her fur to involuntarily fluff. Not noticing, Mori pulls away. 'Hmm... still not sure... might need more trials... you?' Rawlin touches her lips with her gloved hand and just says, '...I like it.'

Current Mood: groggy

lb_lee

Original posts by Phosphor of Hungry Ghosts here, used with permission: https://nightfeather.cafe/notice/AuOng8NknA7IRvgusi

A janky GIMP pen drawing of Mori shrugging. In her speech bubble is a post from Phosphor of Hungry Ghosts: "'that's like saying God should not treat his creations however he sees fit--' well, you see, if god was real I would simply kill him. skill issue."

A janky GIMP pen drawing of Mori shrugging. In her speech bubble is a post from Phosphor of Hungry Ghosts: "'that's like saying God should not treat his creations however he sees fit--' well, you see, if god was real I would simply kill him. skill issue."

A much sketchier drawing of Mori smirking dramatically, one hand to her chest, the other thrown out with a flame at one fingertip. She oversees a burning fire, and her speech bubble contains another Phosphor post: "maybe YOU can't kill god. but lbr. that's a you issue, my friend, not a me issue"

Current Mood: bitchy

lb_lee

We were at the nearby Indian grocery store to stock up on yogurt (only they sell it in the giant quantities we require), when Biff noticed something new: enormous Ziploc bags filled with clearly-homemade momo (Nepalese dumplings). There are a few momo joints around here; maybe it's some sort of mysterious shadow kitchen thing?

Anyway, there were tons of these big gallon-size Ziploc bags, crammed full and tersely labeled in Sharpie as to their contents: (halal) BEEF, (halal) CHICKEN, and... VAG (veg).

It's Pride. We bought the VAG MOMO.

And guys, they were delicious. So flavorful! Cabbage, carrot, (probably?) chickpeas, onion, cilantro (we think), herbs and spices. We've bought bags of potstickers from the (southeast) Asian groceries around town, and they tended to be pretty bland. Nice, but bland, so we took to cooking them with sauces to flavor them up. But these? These packed all the flavor they needed. More support for the "ghost kitchen" idea.

They were expensive ($32), but they were so worth it. That bag will last us a long time; we spent half the bag feeding us and two roommates tonight, and we had leftovers, so that's an easy six meals' worth in one bag, a good treat item. And if I'm going to shell out for food, I'm happy to be giving it to my local Indian grocery and this mysterious momo chef!

Current Mood: full

lb_lee

Hey guys! I read a great women’s sci-fi anthology from 1989 in the sci-fi library. It gave me a lot of new additions to

pluralstories, but one story that really stood out to me (and has no spirited/many-selved content at all) is Barbara Krasnoff’s "Signs of Life." It’s about sign language interpreters in a universe where the Deaf are overwhelmingly the space pilots. Krasnoff had some training in the field (though she didn’t end up entering it) and reading it made my hard-of-hearing ass very happy. I really wanted to share it with y’all, but the Visions and Memories anthology is long out of print and paper-only. Alack!

So I found Krasnoff online and asked about it, and she posted the story on her blog, so now I can share it with everyone! Hooray! Here it is: https://krasnoff.wordpress.com/signs-of-life/

That anthology was really ahead of its time, and I’m glad some of the stories are finding new life (and hopefully new audiences)! I hope y’all like it!

Current Mood: excited

lb_lee

Rogan: so, today was rough, but a kind stranger made it much less bad than it could’ve been!

( Read more... )

Current Mood: grateful

serafaery

reviewing notes on how to shift toxic mental chatter (including "2am chatter"):

address yourself by your name (shifts perspective, narrative usually will change)

temporal distancing (how will you feel about this tomorrow morning, a week from now, ten years from now?)

higher level strategies if this isn't working: go to a safe, natural space (like a park).
call to mind people who have good insight and you care for and respect who you feel supported by, and imagine how they would respond to this negative language stream.

Reasons to do this are numerous, but one is the concept that when ruminating/being consumed by chatter, it eats up our time and energy that could be used for real problem solving.

You can also go back in time instead of forward, and think of times when something like this resolved and how that resolution came about.

serafaery

It's been a crazy day. I've been in an oddly good mood, considering I got diagnosed with arthritis and bone spurring in my back this morning. My back has been giving me trouble for 2.5 years though, so I am glad to understand the cause better, and to know better what to avoid to keep it from getting too much worse too fast.

I think the sunset walk in the park with Josh last night helped. I usually try to walk an hour after work if I haven't done any other exercise that day. Sometimes it's only half an hour but I aim for an hour, especially with this nice weather and these long lingering days. It's really nice. Easier to do things that are good for my mood when it isn't cold and rainy and muddy out.

Went to silks after my ortho appt. Today is my Saturday. Although there is always work. Scheduling more appts, Thursday and Friday are all full. Shipping out more orders, I have two more for today, I should have finished those but I got distracted. I am uploading documents for a new thing and it's scary and very adult, wheeeeeeeeeee. I will finish the orders tonight and ship in the morning. Must write out check and pay quarterly taxes tomorrow also. I am scared to look at my to-do list, there is always so much to do.

Tomorrow morning I have another blood test, this one I have to be fasted for. Tyler and I will go mushroom hunt after on the mountain.

Josh and I walked to the coffee shop together in the balmy sunshine when I got home from silks, and took out trash and recycling, and he sounds more positive and supportive about the very adult potential process we are considering going through. He's working hard. I am so proud of him.

Josh wants tacos for dinner, gotta get cooking. But wanted to say, I don't usually like house music but this mix was *really* lovely to have on while doing all of that paperwork today.

Watch on YouTube

There has been such excitement on the eagle nest today! Mom and Dad brought five fish! The babies are eating well! They both appear to have food comas at the moment. Since they have fledged we go many hours with nothing happening on the nest, and only occasional sightings in nearby trees, so seeing all the fish and nomming today was pretty fun. Our juveniles will stay baby-ish for a few more weeks as they learn to scavenge and steal and begin to practice hunting.

Watch on YouTube

(The current screen cap of the live nest cam is from winter before Gizmo hatched, the chicks being fed are Misty and Sunny, Misty did not survive a really rough snowstorm in early March. That storm was so bad Jackie was frequently completely covered up to over her head while brooding, and it knocked out the sound and infrared light on the nest camera equipment - otherwise we would hear the eagle's chatter better - for now, sound is being used from a second camera set up on a different tree further away.)

serafaery

Just got back from my orthopedist/PT appt, we x-rayed my back, in general things look okay but at the site of the pain, I have narrowing between the joint and a bone spur.

Sooooooo. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

My poor husband. "You can get bone spurs in your BACK? How does THAT work?" lol.

I've already dealt with this in my feet, it's not that shocking given how much pain I've been in for how long, what I've gone through with my hips, etc.

I grok my orthopedist now. I thought he was being dismissive before, but I'm starting to see the problem is that he knows I will resist the fact that there is no actual treatment or "fix" to my issues, nothing I can do to reverse these age-related mechanical malfunctions. And that is no fun for anyone to have to treat or deal with the response to - nobody wants to tell someone they are just broken and there is nothing they can do to fix it. All we can do is mitigate the pain and try to avoid excessive further damage, but of course the damage will continue, for as long as I live.

This time, on our third visit, I tried to indicate that I am more accepting and understanding of what I am experiencing, and he kind of cautiously agreed (he is close to my age and also highly athletic), "It's like a slow pull into the grave and we are trying to desperately claw at the sides to try to stay out as long as possible."

Totally hit the nail on the head with that one. I appreciate his candor an honesty, so much.

This is what is feels like and it really is that awful and it's also the only option. This is what we have to do if we want to keep living. This is life. It's painful and humbling but hopefully worth the effort.

None of us are getting out of here alive.

lb_lee

So, that's two events in a row that've been financial busts, and regrettably, between moves and stuff, we have no Pride events lined up.

So we made a Crisis Planning e-zine, which collates and cleans up all our crisis planning essays (and adds a little new stuff besides) and put it up for sale for $5.

Happy Pride.

lb_lee

Crisis Planning: Legal Stuff: Wills, Organ/Body Donations, and DNR/MOLST/POLST Forms
Series: Essay (Crisis Planning)
Summary: A guide to living wills, health care agents, organ/body donations, and DNR/MOLST/POLST forms (i.e., how to make sure you get the care you want and not the stuff you don't when you're unable to make your desires known).
Notes: Winner of the fan poll this month! If you want to support my work, join LiberaPay or Patreon and get double-weight for your votes. Also, these crisis plan essays have proven so popular (and regrettably necessary) that we have made a whole ebook of them up for sale for $5 here.

Nobody likes to think about this stuff, but seriously, think it over, especially if any of the following is a concern of yours:
• Ending up under the care of your abusers if medically incapacitated.
• Being denied medical care you need, leading to your “merciful” death.
• Making sure your loved ones know what to do if you’re in a coma.
• Donating your body to science.

( Read more... )

( Citations )

Current Mood: busy

serafaery

This moment (I set it to start when Gizmo flies in) last night was what I was mentioning in my paragraph last night about the eagles. Sunny came to the nest for dinner with her mom and then Gizmo arrived, this was her first time back at the nest since fledging the day before, and then Jackie just sorta takes it in for a minute and then starts those gleeful "chortles". Seems like eagle delight to me but who knows, maybe just projecting. I enjoyed it so much, regardless.

Watch on YouTube

(They both flew off the nest early this morning, all seems well, it's just hard to adjust to not being able to see them whenever I want lol.)

serafaery

My friend Kara started a cancer blog when she got her terminal diagnosis, and after she died, her husband kinda took over the blog. His post today was kinda gut-wrenching and I have visited some VERY dark places today too, so I felt compelled to reply, I don't know Charles very well so maybe it was too much but oh well, chronic over-sharer, can't stop won't stop.

I Can Tell You in Just Two Words... but You Won't Like It
Writer: Kara [sic - it's Charles now, her widower]

My iPhone alarm goes off.
As always, Kara is to my right, smiling down at me.
From an 11" x 14" print hanging on the wall.

Light is pouring in through the window. The temperature is supposed to climb into the nineties today. Sunlight makes me want to hide... but the one blanket I’m covered with is making me sweat.

I roll out of bed for my first cup of coffee.
Another morning with no one to say hi to.

Instead, a text on my phone tells me I’m at risk of losing my driving privileges if I don’t pay an outstanding bill for a traffic violation. Report-spam-to-my-wireless-provider time suck: Activate.

Albert Camus in the cloud.
Sisyphus blocking callers, entering verification codes, unsubscribing to email lists, trying not to sneeze during a face ID, clicking on URLs that take him to the same useless FAQ page... his smile is a Face With Tears of Joy emoji.
What is the emoji for the feeling of outlasting? Just... outlasting?

My stomach hurts.
Like a fist twisting tinfoil in a drum full of hot ash.
This will be my twentieth month without her.

Two years ago today, Kara left her immunotherapy treatment in a wheelchair. Foreshadowing of sepsis.

Six years ago next Thursday, I met her in the infusion room for her first chemotherapy appointment.
She gave me a small donut cake to celebrate my forty-eighth birthday. Yep, another year closer to 50. And there I was, spending it in a room I usually only thought about in connection with my grandmothers or my mother.

The chemo drips... the people everywhere in reclining chairs with the same cells going rampant inside them... crazy. With 6.-something hemoglobin in her body, Kara ate some pizza from American Dream down the street.

Now that I think about it, that’s a pretty appropriate name for a power-up source while she sat through her first test of chemical endurance in the pursuit of longer life.

Kara's first chemo, June 12, 2019 [photo of Kara in a sleeveless rocker tank and a box of pizza making a thumb's up]

Next Sunday, she turns 55—old enough to order her first 55+omelette with hash browns and a poached egg from Denny’s.
The real scam isn’t paying off a fake traffic ticket to the DMV, it’s thinking we can control how long we live if we exercise, go to the doctor, etc.
Both of us had lost too many loved ones to go for that BS.

But I won’t rant about that again. Not now.

The big question is: Does this get any easier?

Fuck no.

I see couples holding hands as they walk down the street. Dancing together. Waiting in line at Les Schwab’s.

I see Kara taking her last breaths, one hand in mine, collapsing into herself.

I see Kara scolding me for wearing a clip-on tie and a dickey before we started dating, the two of us still teenage coworkers stocking milk and doing carry-outs at the neighborhood grocery store.

What is the emoji for the feeling of outlasting? Just... outlasting?

Sometimes I think I’m driving around in Hell. But maybe that’s being unfair to Hell. Hell has got to be an improvement over this world. No phone trees, no useless FAQ pages that link to the same non-answers, no verification codes.

A Spotify free trial offer that rejects you. A Domino’s reward that can’t be redeemed. An endlessly going-nowhere, self-perpetuating disappearing act that keeps folding in on the ghosts of the life that fell out from under you.

One of the few things that makes me feel like going on in this spam-scam shit show is talking about Kara with anyone who will listen.

I realized that is why I have been writing on her blog ever since she Sparkled On.

I wish I had something more uplifting to say right now. But I wanted to get something out as the days get hotter and slide into the two-year mark of my wife’s last months on earth.

As Kara used to do, I promise I will have more fun things to say in the future.

I won’t take it personally if you unsubscribe. But hopefully, you found some seeds of deeper truth in something I’ve said here. At the very least, you got this far without being transferred to a nonexistent department.

If you miss Kara like I do, press or say ONE.

That’s all I’ve got for now.

Until next time.

—Charles Austin Muir

Diagnosis
Way Back Machine
Personal Essay
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serafaery
a few seconds ago

I got that same text this morning. Thanks for making me feel less alone, in more ways than one. I miss Kara's magic and think of her often, I am grateful that you are still writing here, keeping this vigil, it helps. She is the sparkliest, her brightness feels just as bright, to me, when I think of her. I turned 50 and six months beforehand my body began to revolt in ways that made it very clear that no amount of kale or high-rev cardio will keep the pain of osteoarthritis from poorly-shaped joints at bay. I don't get to run into my 70s. I don't get to ice skate, run, or rock climb at all anymore, and no amount of healthy habits will change that. It's a tough pill to swallow and most folks aren't ready. Very few understand or can hear me, even doctors. I feel newly awakened, in a kind of nauseating way. I know Kara would understand and hear me in a way very few others ever could. We both had parents who did the best they could but just didn't know how to parent and died too young, I don't have very many friends in that circumstance who aren't deep into their substances - no judgment, people are allowed to cope however they need to. It's just hard to connect with someone through a constant haze of weed or alcohol or whatever. I miss my connection with Kara, she was a singular kind of strong and sweet and funny and I'm so grateful to have been able to shimmer alongside her for a bit, I am better for it. I often feel like I'm slogging through a hellscape too - I have no one who will really miss me when I go, and that makes me sad sometimes (I plan to outlive my spouse but we all know how those kinds of plans go, not really up to me). I really miss her. I imagine she would want you to keep creating. But of course, that's up to you, you know what's right for you better than anyone. I'm so sorry it hurts so much. It all feels very wrong and bad, cancer always feels this way to me, and I have probably said too much, just, I hope you also find some leftover glitter stuck to your skin now and then :)

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July 2022

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Page Summary

serafaery - Summer solstice. (Coping is just so much easier on this side of the year, mood-wise.)
lb_lee - The Queer Canoodling Commission Pride Special!
lb_lee - "Kiki", by Anonymous, 1947
serafaery - Trying to shift to a softer perspective.
lb_lee - Every Time We Move
lb_lee - Loony-Brain Hive
serafaery - father's day when your dad is dead.
lb_lee - Trail Cooking Clean and Green
lb_lee - Comic: Kissing
lb_lee - Killing God is a Skill Issue
lb_lee - VAG MOMO
lb_lee - Signs of Life, by Barbara Krasnoff
lb_lee - Thank you, kind stranger!
serafaery - chatter fighting strategies
serafaery - grooves and eagles and sunshine and adulting.
serafaery - life is a crazy miraculous beautiful terrifying stunningly blissful hellscape.
lb_lee - Happy Pride, have a crisis zine
lb_lee - Crisis Planning: Legal/Medical Stuff
serafaery - happy eagles
serafaery - Charles and Kara

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Style: Starflower for Mobility by branchandroot
Resources: Rounded Star 005

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