Out With The Old

It's been quite a year.

Goodbye, 2020. You will be forever memorable, no doubt.

We hope for health, and peace, and perhaps even a little bit of joy in the upcoming year. 

Van Morrison

 This is the saddest song I have ever heard: Reminds Me of You (Van Morrison). 

Not a song to listen to while Pandemic-social-distancing. Especially the "I can't stand it" at 4:41.

If you are feeling sad and need an outlet, though, this is the ticket.

Still Not Right

 Oh, GOOD GRAVY, Facebook. The ads are still not right. 

 This ad reminds me of the time, some zillion years ago or so during my college days, when a well-meaning relative who disliked the person I was dating at the time, sent me a book titled, Smart Women, Foolish Choices. Oh, dear.  So much NO. (Though at least Facebook is algorithm-driven rather than motivated by passive-aggression.) 

Trust me, Facebook (and well-meaning relatives): just stop. If I want advice, I'll ask for it. Furthermore, for a middle-aged woman, being left alone is a priority. Send us ads for comfortable clothing and accoutrements for our hobbies, and absolutely no interpersonal advice in any form. 

Post-Holiday Exhaustion

 

Home for the Holidays

 The holidays are, expectedly, a bit strange this Pandemic year.

In lieu of the annual family get-together, we drove around on Christmas eve and dropped things off for people, chatting only briefly, masked, outside on the porches. It was mostly fine, and fairly brief, and it was a welcome break from social gatherings.

The hard parts:

1. Knowing it was not safe to hug my daughter, because she is in her own household and regularly encounters the imported medical personnel who are here in our city to help with the Pandemic. That realization was an unexpectedly difficult pang, and I still ache. Stay safe and well, Offspring the First. My heart is with you, from six feet away.

2. My lovely mother-in-law sending a text to me, to ask whether Cherished Friend would be coming "Home" to this desert land for Christmas. She is so kind, keeping him in her prayers and considering him a member of the family. I'm grateful. Alas, no, I told her, he would not be here for the holidays since it is not safe to travel between Here and There because Pandemic. 

I didn't have the heart to tell her that I suspect that the times he will be out in this desert land will be few and far between henceforth. (It might still be too hard for me to admit it to anyone except myself.)

Paths have diverged. Cherished Friend is Oceanside, and it is the right place for him. It may, eventually, become Home for him, unlike this desert land which never was truly Home. 

I hope for the best for him, Always. 

Home isn't where you're from, it's where you find light when all grows dark. ― Pierce Brown, Golden Son

Copyright 2020, Mediocria Firma.

All rights reserved. Used with gratitude.

Hummingbird Gift

 A lovely gift from my lovely mother-in-law.

Merry Happy

Let's Be Brief?

I... do not need these. Adjust your advertisement parameters, Facebook. 

Beast

The gator is a prehistoric, magnificent creature. 

Copyright 2020, Mediocria Firma.

All rights reserved. Used with gratitude.

Workspace

My view at the office.

Needy

Old Dog is a wee bit needy these days, for reasons unknown. While Tiny Dog was enjoying some Alone Time in her favorite lair (the one in the closet), I put Old Dog in the dog carrier. At first he was somewhat alarmed, but then he settled in and enjoyed helping with some chores. Good Boy, Old Dog. 

Small Accomplishments

Current Mood

Feeling a trifle bitey. 

Many Feet

Beloved Husband took a brief trip this past weekend, and encountered this lovely critter.

The desert is a marvelous place.

River

Today's earworm: River (Bishop Briggs). Go watch any version that has the stunning choreography by Galen Hooks. Could I learn it? I am not sure I bend that way. Still, a girl can dream. 

I hope you enjoy. 

Inappropriate

 Herself speaks.

It only took five and a half months from the initial episode of Good Lord What Was That, to a tentative diagnosis:

Inappropriate sinus tachycardia. 

It was a long road, with a thorough set of diagnostics to rule other things out: EKG, bloodwork, echocardiogram, sleep study, Holter monitoring. Step by step. I didn't want to talk about it or write about it, because I didn't know what it was and it was so very far out of my research/scientific understanding, that I couldn't begin to guess. 

I had reached the point where I was not particularly optimistic that anyone would be able to tell me what was happening. Not the first time I've experienced something that no one could validate, I thought wryly. Because when one is a middle-aged, slightly overweight woman, the medical establishment is much more likely to dismiss things as stress. Or being overweight. 

Finally, a referral from the cardiologist to an arrhythmia specialist -- who finally gave it a name.

What now? We're trying low-dose medication. I'm cautiously optimistic for the first time in a long time that there will come a morning when I don't wake up in the wee hours because of that alarming fluttering/rattling sensation deep down inside. It's not life-threatening, just a tremendous annoyance. 

I'm glad it's not life-threatening. There are a lot of people counting on me to be here. And I have so much to do, yet. 

The name itself -- inappropriate sinus tachycardia -- seems just so fitting. The heart behaving inappropriately. It's the plot summary of a medical-based twenty-first century romance novel. 

We shall see how it goes. 

(this perfect meme was found on Facebook)

A Zillion "No"s

GOOD GRAVY.  NO. WHAT IS THIS? NO. 

Beatrice The Biologist Nails It

(http://www.beatricebiologist.com/)

22

Pandemic birthday is a strange thing.

Wishing you All Good Things, always, Offspring the Third.  I love you. 

One Tenth

Over 10% of the county population known to be infected. How many more do we not know about?

Lord have mercy. 

A Decade Ago

Teeny baby Tiny Dog!

Loafing Around

 Offspring the Third is back home for winter break, quarantining until we're sure he has not brought The Plague home with him. It's hard for him, for he's a social creature. Masks on, everyone. 

With an additional person in the household, it's time to exercise the baking muscles -- nearly atrophied these days -- and make a few things. Behold, the pumpkin bread. Isn't it pretty? 

The Way of the World

The Best Cereal Ever

Nice Things

Herself speaks.

"You deserve to have nice things."

I was recently told this. And it surprised me into silence.
Why do I deserve to have nice things?
-----

One of my Facebook ladies - a lovely woman whom I befriended first on AOL eons ago, and then on Facebook - out of the blue sent me the recent plague doctor, for no other reason besides "she thought I needed it".  I was so touched. And you'll recall that another one of my Facebook ladies also sent me a stuffed guinea pig, just because. I am so charmed, and honored, that these women took the time and effort to purchase, wrap and mail delightful things to me. Such kindness. 

Why is there this tiny voice in the back of my head that is critical of my receiving gifts? 

You don't do anything for them, why should they do this for you? 

You don't do enough for other people.

You are thoughtless -- unlike these people.

You don't deserve such kindness.

I don't know where this voice came from, or why it tries to make me feel sad and guilty an inadequate. It needs to be quiet. And perhaps I need to learn how to be grateful without being self-critical. 

I give people gifts because I enjoy doing so. Surely, some other people are the same. 

I'm grateful for kindnesses, even when I don't feel as though I deserve them. 

Sweater Weather

Plague Doctor

Pandemic Thoughts, Eight

Herself speaks.

It's been nearly two months since the last Pandemic Thoughts. The Pandemic continues apace (is the infection rate exponential yet?), and the news articles are so exhausting that they are virtually unreadable, for how much heartache can one bear? Five year old loses both parents. Whole family struck down. Entire population of nursing home infected. It goes on, and on. And on. 

And so we hide, not only from other people, but from any news sources at all. We filter Facebook friends who post about going out to dinner. We delete the emails from extended family members who want to provide me with the latest article about the dire situation in our home city. We look at online science journals instead of standard news sources. And when we must have a bit of news, we read the BBC instead of CNN. We do what we can. 

It's a lot. And it's hard not to fixate on the actions of deliberately Terrible People who refuse to wear masks or socially distance, and who effectively make life extremely difficult for those of us who are trying to do the right things. I've lost a lot of my faith in humanity because of the Pandemic. It's not a happy situation. 

Rather than spend time being enraged at things (and people) that I cannot control, I've instead turned inward to ruminate. I've spent a lot of time thinking about Things. Things like: what I need from other people; whether the people close to me can realistically provide what I need; and what to do if not. And related to that: how to somehow build more support, even though I don't like to ask for help; and why I don't like to ask for help in the first place. And occasionally, when I feel optimistic, Things like: how grateful I am for what I do have. 

If nothing else, by the time restrictions loosen and I am once more able to interact a bit more with the human race, I will have a better feel for who I am, what I need, and how to set about finding it. 

I want to be hopeful. 

Perhaps in time. 

A Non-holiday Holiday

It is Thanksgiving Day, but it's not a celebration. It's a placeholder, merely a spot in time, where we all wait and hope and pray that the tide of the Pandemic will be turned. It seems callous to proclaim thanks in the face of so much suffering. Tempting the Fates, almost. 

We'll go about our business as usual, trying not to think about what we are missing, whom we are missing. And we'll have pie, because Pie. It's the best we can do.

Biscuits

 Today's earworm: an ever-so-lighthearted song from Kacey Musgraves: Biscuits.

Adorable. 

I hope you enjoy.

Stranger Things

 I found this gem while sorting through the memorabilia.

I would have made an excellent extra on Stranger Things. 

I wonder what I was thinking in that moment?

Lapdog

 It's not as comfortable as Cherished Friend's lap, I'm sure, but New Old Dog still likes a lap-sit from time to time. 

It's a Day!

National Bacon Day is actually another day of the year, but I see no reason not to have more than one Bacon Day. So today shall be Bacon Day, too. 

Bacon makes everything better.

Comfort Zone

In every person's life, there are moments when it is necessary to step outside of the comfort zone. Many times, those steps yield a greater good -- though not without personal cost. 

There are two ways to aid a person who is standing on the edge of the comfort zone:

1. Push them out. 

Just do it.  

You have to do it. 

It's for your own good. 

2. Encourage them to take the step themselves. 

I know it's scary. 

I'm here for you.

I believe in you. 

The first one is a kind of "tough love" stance. (I use the definition of "tough love" provided by the Cambridge dictionary: the fact of deliberately not showing too much kindness to a person who has a problem so that the person will start to solve their own problem.) That may work for some people. When faced with hardship or difficulty, however, sometimes a lack of kindness is the opposite of what is needed.

In my view, it's easier for someone to take a step outside the comfort zone, knowing that there is support. 

I will always choose to be the support person. I'm here for you.

What kind of person are you?

Is It Satire, Or Real Life?

Reductress can be found here: https://reductress.com/

Current Mood

Canceled

Offspring the Third let me know this morning that, due to the ever-worsening COVID situation in our home town, it's best that he not come home for Thanksgiving, but wait until winter break a few weeks later. 

He's correct, and it's the smart thing to do. We'd already planned not to get together with extended family, because it's Not Safe.  I confess that all the same, I felt a little pang, as if this decision was the final nail in the coffin that is Thanksgiving. 

I have enjoyed the past few Thanksgivings, because they have been an opportunity to have my Important People all momentarily gathered together. Times are changing, though, and those days are past. Perhaps one day they'll come again, after the Pandemic. 

Small Fry

Tiny Dog is ailing in an indeterminate sort of way. Could be her wonky knee; could be something else. She has a regular vet appointment this week; hopefully we will figure out how to help her.

2020 has been terrible enough. Let us hope Tiny Dog improves. 

Riding The Struggle Bus

I think we're all riding the proverbial struggle bus a bit right now. 

I know I am.

-----

I'm not sure what it is, exactly, that is making things that much harder right now. So many things. 

Much of it is Pandemic Fatigue -- no end in sight, number of cases rising rapidly, politicizing of the measures that keep us safe, and the edge of the plague inching ever nearer as people closer and closer to us fall ill. 

I worry about one of my Important People getting sick. And I worry about getting sick myself: I am still the Default Parent, the Default Person, the Auxiliary Brain, the person who listens and soothes and advises and takes care of all the Little Things -- and it would be perhaps even more devastating for me not to be available when they are in need, than it would be for them. This, perhaps, is the crux of the matter: the terrible weight of fear that someone I love will be in need, and I will not be able to be there. It weighs like a stone. 

Pandemic fatigue comes hand-in-hand with a blend of loneliness and boredom:  we cannot see the people we want to see, or go the places we want to go. 

I am having trouble thinking about what it will be like in the future when travel is again possible; it is painful to do so, because what I am missing now becomes all that much clearer. The most I can do is imagine is some distant time, some distant airport (for my parents, my siblings, my Cherished Friend are all thousands of miles from here), and that glorious moment when I finally lay eyes on them in person.  

I also look forward to a time I can visit one of my Happy Places -- Carlsbad Caverns, White Sands, the woods of northern New Mexico (perfect for hiking). To be out in nature, to have a respite from Work and Worry, to find that moment of peace. These are the things I long for most now. And my heart grieves that these things are out of reach. 

I know this state of affairs is temporary. We'll get through. With no clear end in sight, though, it is exhausting. 

-----

What I would like most, I think, is a Moment: a moment safe in the knowledge that the people I love are all OK; that no one needs anything from me; that I can relax my brain and think of nothing. 

Imagine how lovely that would be. 

Colors

The pandemic is terrible, but the sunset is exceptionally lovely this evening. 

Birthday Dinner

 I was leafing through some (very old) photos over the weekend, and found this delight: Fritz the dachshund, enjoying his annual birthday meal of people food. Complete with placemat, silverware, a beverage, and his napkin tucked neatly into the collar of his very fine coat. 

Excellent. 

Belongings

 I've tidying up a few loose ends from the packing-up-and-shipping-out of Cherished Friend's possessions. There were a couple of boxes of miscellany that needed to be taken home for repacking instead of going as-is onto the moving truck, and so I have been sorting those and storing or repacking items as necessary. (Poor Cherished Friend, being subjected to approximately 800,000 texts -- with photos! -- to ask about various things. He has been tremendously patient.) A few things will stay here, and others will go to his Oceanside. 

It brings me a little bit of comfort, to have a couple of his possessions still here. 

-----

When I was young (and rather slovenly, apparently), my mother would eventually tire of the disarray of my room, and when I was out of the house at school or in the yard, she would gather every single item that was not properly put away and put them into a pile in the middle of the floor. I still remember the shock of seeing that pile, and my constricted feelings as I picked up each item from the pile in turn and put it where it was supposed to go. It was no doubt an effective strategy, however, as it didn't happen often -- I must have managed to keep things tidier after The Pile appeared. 

As you may imagine, even as an adult, I don't particularly like other people rearranging my possessions. 

-----

I feel quite strongly that a person's possessions -- embodiments of that person's history and selfhood -- must be treated with respect and care. I bear this in mind whenever I handle someone else's things. I have done so for Offspring the First when she moved out of the house, and for Offspring the Third when he has needed help with maintaining a solid level of tidiness; and also to a lesser extent for Offspring the Second and Beloved Husband when need has arisen. I wanted to make sure to do so for Cherished Friend as well. Hopefully, he will feel safe in the knowledge that I tended his things as best I could. Moving is mentally exhausting, and knowing that one's belongings have been treated with care can ease the strain. 

It's the best I can do from afar. 

Oh Dear

 Facebook ads apparently... think I'm a man? Who is either a) really lax about birth control, or b) wants to be (near) a furry, sweaty man in tight workout gear? Who needs special hygiene equipment? 

Oh, dear. 

Post-election

Relief, followed by exhaustion.

It's Been Called

 Biden/Harris 2020.

I am exhausted. 

Yet, there's a glimmer of hope now, where once there was none.

Hallelujah, and amen. 

Current Mood

Waiting Meme 12

Waiting Meme 11

Waiting Meme 10

Waiting Meme 9

Waiting Meme 8

Waiting Meme 7