Advantage

Confession:
I was able to get the COVID vaccine.

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I did research, and more research, and still more research, to try to determine whether my risk of COVID-going-poorly was increased by the cardiac issues I have been experiencing. It was hard to tell; so little is known about this new virus. All things considered, though, it seemed that having cardiac issues is a definite risk factor. And so I signed up for a local vaccine program, under group 1B, for those with chronic medical conditions that put them at increased risk. 

I felt guilty -- surely there are other people who are at greater risk than I am. Still. I am not low-risk. I have a lot of people depending on me not to be incapacitated. Or dead. And I still have things I would like to do: goals and aspirations that include not dying right now. 

I had few side effects from either the first or second dose, for which I'm grateful. Any side effects would have been better than contracting COVID, at any rate. 

I feel marginally safer now. Still a bit guilty. I will live with that, though. 

I am still very concerned about the health of Beloved Husband and the Offspring, and we are doing what we can to try to get them vaccines as well. I am waiting for more information on when my siblings will be able to get vaccinated. I am relieved that my parents and my in-laws have received the vaccine, as has Cherished Friend. 

Vaccine distribution in the United States is so uneven. Some of us get lucky, securing a slot in a local program, scoring leftover doses that are unexpectedly available, or obtaining the vaccine through work. Meanwhile, news articles reveal that people are lying about their risks to get in queues early; and the elderly, who have greater risk of serious illness and yet much less access to the internet, are having tremendous difficulty gaining access to vaccines. 

And overarching all this: some public officials calling mask mandates "diabolical silliness". This is why we cannot have nice things: cannot mandate an effective disease mitigation tactic, and cannot rely on some people to voluntarily do it either. People decry mask use in the name of some nebulous "freedom". Freedom to spread disease is not a thing. Science IS a thing. So many conspiracy theories, so much anti-science sentiment. It's mind-boggling. 

Want to protect this great country that you proclaim to love so much with all its freedoms? Protect your fellow citizens. Put a f*cking mask on your f*cking face. 

I may be vaccinated, but my rage at other people continues to burn. I may never truly be comfortable in public again. 

Biding Time

 As I mentioned earlier this week, Tiny Dog has begun heart failure. I wrote about it only briefly, because I am still processing what that means. And because I don't truly know what it means. 

Research tells me that there are various stages of heart failure, and that Tiny is at Stage C. The next and final stage will be Stage D/advanced heart failure, when she no longer responds well to treatment. The time frame from Stage C to D, though, is quite an unknown; one article I found indicated a median time of 163 days (range, 10–743 days). So that could be between, oh, tomorrow and two years from now. The same article indicates that time in advanced (post-Stage-C) heart failure to death also varies similarly, with median survival time after the diagnosis of advanced heart failure of 281 days (range, 3–885 days). That's a whole lotta range there, I must say.

I dislike unknown periods of time. 

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I am remembering Ottoman-shaped Dog's last weeks in these times. His bladder cancer was an unknown, with the meds being palliative, not curative. We waited, and watched, and waited, and it was an agony not to know when it would be his time. And then one day it was clear it was his time to Go, and it was a heartbreaking sadness comingled with a most bittersweet relief that the waiting for that moment was over.

And here we are, with Tiny Dog. Is it Now? No, not yet. But when? Soon? We do not know. 

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I fare better waiting, when I know how long the Wait will be. I do not do well when time is Unknown. What can I do, though, besides learn how to Wait Better? 

Tiny Dog spends a fair amount of time on my lap or nearby these days, and I do whatever I can to make her comfortable. Sometimes she trembles in that way that so many small dogs do -- but which she never did before -- and I worry that she is in pain. But then she perks up again. And so we continue to go about our lives, trying to enjoy the small moments with the small dog. 

I cannot think about the Future right now: where will I go when it is safe to travel? What will I do when being in public is not such a risk? I have no idea, because when I try to think about it, all I can think of is Tiny Dog: will her needs be met? Will she be stable on her meds? Can she do without me for a few days? I don't know. I have no idea what the Future holds. 

Bless you, Tiny Dog. We will do what we can. I hope you enjoy the time you have, and that I will be able to be with you when you are at the end of your road. 

Early Bird

Or rather, early lizard! First one of the season. Spring must be just around the corner.

Tiny

Tiny Dog is ailing. Three and a half years ago, the vet told us she might last a year before going into heart failure. That time has, much belatedly, arrived.

We try more meds. And we wait and see. 

Bless you, Tiny Dog. We love you so much.

Birthday Boy

14!

History

Herself speaks.

Sometimes, I think about the question: why is there Black History Month?  

I have heard this question asked before. And to be honest, growing up as a white person, I did not give much thought to Black History Month. Was it even taught in school? A little research through Google tells me it was in existence when I was young -- yet it did not have enough impact to leave an impression on me. I grew up with the luxury of never thinking anything other than "all people are equal, regardless of race", never experiencing or witnessing racism.  

And thus, remaining thoroughly ignorant. 

The Black Lives Matter movement shone such a light on the depth of my personal ignorance. Shameful. Know better, do better, now.

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Let me ask you a few questions.

Where are your ancestors from?

 I can answer this: Ireland, Poland, Romania. Extended family members know who came to America, and when, and from where. We know what cultural heritage came with our ancestors to this country, what religious practices our relatives had, where they had farms, how they tried to make a living for themselves and their loved ones. 

What if you cannot answer this question? What if your people were stolen from their homeland and enslaved? What if you cannot identify your cultural heritage? 

Most people want to belong to a group: it is human nature to try to find commonality with other human beings, to share in communal life. And yet, some groups of people -- white people, especially -- have historically slashed apart, and continue to slash away, the very underpinnings of community for others. It is a shocking cruelty. 

Black History Month should give those of us who are ignorant, a push toward knowledge and acknowledgment of atrocities in our American past, as well as an opportunity to honor contributions of people who have historically been overlooked.  Black History Month takes a known identifier -- color -- and recognizes it as a commonality among these peoples: Blackness. This is why, in part, Black History Month is so important: to take the time to recognize the achievements of peoples who were ripped from their ancestors' arms and subjected to unthinkable, ongoing mistreatment, that extends into the present in our country, even now.

Perhaps, too, this is one reason why Kwanzaa exists: to bring together people of unknown heritage and terrible suffering, to create community. To understand common experience, together. To make new culture, where old culture has been cruelly amputated against their will.

I will do what I can to do better: to see what exists, to not turn a blind eye or make excuses, to be an ally. It's not up to other people, especially Black people, to tell me what to do -- I need to do the work myself. 

Black Lives Matter. 

Imagine

 Herself speaks.

I am so busy that I do not spend much time outside in nature right now. Nevertheless, I do imagine what it will be like when the volume of obligations (and the pandemic) eases up, and I can purposefully enjoy flora and fauna again. 

Sometimes, I dream of the desert, and I remind myself that I need to get out my books on the plant life of this dry land, so that I can learn more about what the desert holds. 

And sometimes, I imagine Oceanside. How magnificent, to see creatures like this, in their natural habitats. 

Beautiful. 

Photos Copyright 2020, 2021, Mediocria Firma.

All rights reserved. Used with gratitude.

BEANS BEANS BEANS

The baby beans are BIGGER BEANS. They are SO CUTE IT IS NEARLY UNBEARABLE.

 

Toast Both Sides

 Texas has been frighteningly cold. Old Dog, however, is mercifully warm. 

Unpleasant Words

 I like most words. I am happy experiencing a lot of words. Copiously prolix, am I. 

There are a few words, however, that I do not enjoy. They include:

Snuggle.

Cuddle.

Cozy.

Slurp.

Let's investigate.

Snuggle and cuddle fall into the same category of unpleasantness for me. They are so often used for description of "spending time physically entwined with one's significant other," but with cutesy, deliberately or euphemistically nonsexual overtones. These words might be appropriate in the context of young (literally juvenile) people, but for adults -- no. I'm not sure what word would be appropriate; clearly we do need a "non-sexual physical proximity" word out there in the world. Not these words, though. Ew. 

Cozy is not as bad as snuggle or cuddle. It is snuggle/cuddle adjacent in my mind, though, so I also include it in the list of words I do not enjoy.

Slurp. Just reading it, without even hearing the word aloud, makes me shudder, because I can hear the sound associated with the word inside my head when I see the word, and that puts my teeth on edge. No. Do not use this word. 

Munch. It is very similar to slurp, except... drier somehow? I do not care for this word either. 

Birth. Not as in "birthday" (which is fine), but as in, "to give birth" or "childbirth".  In my primitive brain there is violence and pain associated with birth in those contexts. There is no rocket science behind my aversion: the hatchings of the Offspring, overall, were difficult, frightening, unpleasant experiences. I don't want to think about that any more. The Offspring are lovely people, and we can talk about them instead of the process by which they entered this world. 

There are some words which other people loathe, which do not bother me at all. For example:

moist.

Nothing inherently wrong with moistness. Sometimes moistness is particularly positive, as in a moist cake. Mmmm, cake. The problem with moist is that it has been sexualized in a way that people do not like: for example, used as in the phrase, moist panties. Why is there a problem with the words used to indicate female sexual desire? Hmmm. What other words would you use instead? 

Actually, I don't care much for the word panties, now that I think about it. It's a little infantilizing. It's not as viscerally repellent a word as the others above, though, so we'll let that one go for now.

I think, perhaps, that a Part II: Pleasant Words, should be created, just to round matters out. Stay tuned....

Icicles

SO COLD

Questionable Ads, Part Bazillion

 Facebook apparently thinks I need to devote more time to my appearance and private physical well-being. 

There seems to be quite the concern that I might be... too furry? I've gotten a tolerable ad for a "women's" razor:

But also, an ad for a men's razor -- the ad has been repurposed to allegedly target women as well. (I've spared you the video, which includes brief footage of a perky athletic young woman at a beach confidentially confiding about the grooming she prefers 'down there.'). I don't think I'll need the "odor-fighting ball spray":

Speaking of balls, there is this... exercise ball: 

There is this implement designed to tackle unsightly chin and neck issues:

And then there is... decorative jewelry. SWEET FANCIFUL MOSES, NO, FACEBOOK.

Pandemic Thoughts, Nine

 Herself speaks.

I've been doing fairly well, all things considered, given the sheer volume of Things I Have To Do and Responsibilities I Must Tend. 

I'm tired, though. 

And something about today was harder than usual. 

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I need... nurturing. 

I don't know how, or who, to ask for help with this. We're all busy, we're all barely scraping by, getting close to the year anniversary of the pandemic, everyone's struggling. No one has the bandwidth right now. I don't want to impose on anyone. Life is hard enough at the moment. 

Plus, it's embarrassing. I know I'm an adult and should be taking care of all the things myself, but could someone please just tend to me for a little bit?  It's ridiculous. 

Is it really so terrible to have needs, though? Or am I just trained to think it is? 

I... cannot think about this any more tonight. I think I'll just go sit on the couch with the small dogs. Tomorrow will be better.

As I've been told: 

All tunnels eventually end. Some are just longer than others. 

Late Night Signs of Spring

The roses are starting again. 

Med Time

Tiny Dog continues to be slightly under the weather. A few more meds (with pills coated in cream cheese, which makes them tastier), and hopefully she will perk up soon.


Bless her tiny furry heart.

Fleur

Pink and purple flowers are among my favorites. I am not sure which color this flower is, exactly. Nevertheless -- look: how lovely. 

Photo Copyright 2020, 2021, Mediocria Firma.

All rights reserved. Used with gratitude.

Bigger Baby Beans

Pictures of them fill my heart with joy.

Missing Out

 Herself speaks.

Yesterday, Cherished Friend sent me an email about his going to look at cars. (He's been contemplating trading in his vehicle for a different vehicle for some time now.) And today, before I'd had an opportunity to respond fully to his email, he let me know that he'd bit the bullet and made the change. 

On the one hand, I'm very happy for him: his choice for different vehicle is an excellent one, and it will serve him very well in Oceanside. As always, he carefully thought out the permutations and possibilities, and then executed a purposeful plan. Well done, Cherished Friend.

On the other hand, I'm having a hard time with the fact that not only was I not fully available to give my (likely useless) two cents on the vehicle issue by email, but I was not able to go with him to look at vehicles, to contemplate the options, to be present in some form or another. I am so preoccupied with All The Things here, and so far away, that as a result I am missing out on parts of his life. 

This makes me quite sad. 

I didn't even get to say goodbye to his former vehicle, which seems absolutely ridiculous to say, but it took us on various adventures and mundane errands and whatnot, and I miss those times. With each change in his life -- change of residence, change of vehicle --I feel as though he is somehow farther and farther away. The metaphorical distance pains me somehow even more than the actual physical distance. 

I know that someday, travel will again be possible, and I can go say 'hello' in person in Oceanside. It seems a million miles away right now, though.

Alas. 

Photo Copyright 2020, 2021, Mediocria Firma.

All rights reserved. Used with gratitude.

Take a Walk

 I would like to be this bird, right now, with the water at my ankles and my toes in the sand.

Photos Copyright 2020, 2021, Mediocria Firma.

All rights reserved. Used with gratitude.

Red

 I allow myself a bit of scrolling through TikTok occasionally, when I have completed my other tasks for the day. There is a lot there. It sucks up time. There are a lot of very positive people, creating positive and helpful content, which is especially nice to see when the news has been so full of acrimony of late. There are a lot of very funny people, too. And a lot of people trying to be sexy. I can't fault them -- in this pandemic, when we see so few people in person, a little positive attention for one's appearance no doubt must go a long way. 

(You won't see me on TikTok. Nobody wants to see that.) 

I noticed that many of the 'sexy' videos include a musical clip from the song,  I See Red (Everybody Loves An Outlaw). 

Hello, people, have you listened to the lyrics? It's about a woman who has caught her man cheating and is plotting violent revenge. THAT IS NOT A SEXY SITUATION, PEOPLE. 

My advice: don't listen to the lyrics. Just enjoy the rhythm and the voice. Those are the sexy bits. 

Beautiful Beans

Chastised

The Animal Crossing snowpeople are... a little disturbing.

They give you large snowflakes as they talk about melting into oblivion. Or they exclaim the embarrassment they feel at discovering a large snowflake attached to them, and ask you to take it because it has caused them too much suffering. 

And sometimes, they scold you if you accidentally form them imperfectly. 

Geez.