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.