Better

New hair feels so much better. 

It's Been A Bit

It is surprisingly difficult to take a photo of the back of your own head.

It is time to cut my hair. Haven't done so since Before The Plague. There is too much of it. It needs to be less, and needs shape, and needs care.

Soon. 

Strip It Down

 Today's earworm: Strip It Down (Luke Bryan). 

The video is a wee bit cheesy, but the sentiment is sweet. I'd take it.

Kitty Companions

 Herself speaks.

I have enjoyed finding the kitties lounging about the house when I get home from work in the evenings. (They fill a bit of the gap that has been left by the passing of the small dogs.) I will miss them when they go back to school with Offspring the Third in a few weeks. I am glad that he has them for company -- they are good companions.

Explain Thyself

 Herself speaks.

Sometimes I feel like I spend a lot of time trying to explain myself. 

A lot of the time, it is explaining myself to myself: what emotion was I experiencing just then? And why? Was there a previous historical event that is coloring/influencing how was feeling and if so, what? What would I like (would have liked) in this moment? What would (have been) helpful? 

Do other people do this in the moment? In retrospect? It's exhausting. 

On occasion I try to explain myself to other people, in particular, Beloved Husband or Cherished Friend. It seems important to me sometimes that they understand what is happening inside my head -- I want them to know. Sometimes I worry that they don't actually want to know, or that it's too much information, or that it's just plain weird to use so many words to describe an internal state of mind. 

What is this need to explain?

Perhaps it is a longing to be understood. 

“To understand and be understood is to be at peace.” ― Kamand Kojouri

Photo Copyright 2020, 2021, Mediocria Firma.

All rights reserved. Used with gratitude.

Indian

 Herself speaks.

Back in the early 1970s when I was a youngster, we were taught about "Indians" in the most vague and benign of terms. We learned very little: snippets of how their villages were ostensibly constructed, what their clothing and jewelry looked like, what they ate. Virtually nothing about where or how they lived, their culture, their myths or creation stories or history, development of medicine or knowledge about nature or the world around us. 

I had an Indian "costume" lovingly sewn by my grandmother, depicting what we, as very white people, saw in the media; I had jewelry obtained during some travels somewhere at a roadside stand. I loved that outfit. I refused to wear tights with it, even though it was chilly, because in my mind, "real Indians wouldn't wear tights".  I had a poster of a cartoon map of an Indian village, and I spent hours wondering and imagining how people might live there, and whether they would accept me living there as well, even though I was clearly Not An Indian.

-----

Those were days when when we were not taught about the multiple, varied peoples native to this continent before settlers arrived; when we did not learn about the cultures destroyed, slowly or all at once; about the ways of life forever changed, the peoples slaughtered, the land stolen. The Trail of Tears. The schools where children were sent to be stripped of their culture, where many died. Unimaginable, yet true. It is hard to process the level of horror that exists in this part of our nation's history.

And yet, we have people griping about changing the name of a sports team from the Cleveland Indians to the Cleveland Guardians. Really, people? Really? Let's watch a few minutes of footage of tiny coffins being returned to survivors of decimated tribes, and then let's re-think our priorities. All of them. Take your time. Think long and hard. What is important here? 

Young me, so happy in my Indian costume, would have been stuck on the Magnitude of Terrible, if she had encountered a molecule of knowledge of this history. How could it have happened?

It did. 

Let us acknowledge the harm. Heal what we can. And resolve to do better. 

Before I knew better.

Visitor

Look, it's Mr. Dad-Bun!

The Trio's father bun is visiting for a bit. We are facilitating his neuter; we live far closer and more conveniently-located to the vet than his people do, and so the simplest thing to avoid Additional Sibling Buns and still give him the freedom to eventually spend time with his Bun Wife is to move forward with his getting 'fixed'.

He's a quiet and congenial fellow. We've enjoyed watching him.

He likes to play with a few things: a little box, the cups. 

A hay ball.

I've installed the Buncam so I can keep an eye and make sure he's safe and sound. He hung out in the tube for a bit.

Mostly, though, he likes to rest in the corner by the camera, so we get a lovely view of his butt.

Good boy.

It's the Little Things

Like llama bandages. Awesome. 

Neighborhood Flowers

Lovely.

Little Pockets

 Herself speaks.

I've been a tad quiet lately, for which I apologize. There has been a lot of Work work, which occupies so much of my brain power. And unexpectedly, too, I have fallen into a few little pockets of grief. 

A few days ago, Facebook memories presented me with a series of some of my favorite images from various years past on that day: Tiny Dog barking furiously at a gigantic mushroom in the back yard; a bird's-eye-view of my first Old Dog's lovely lopsided ears; and a snapshot from the moment when I received my black belt in taekwondo. 

I miss the devotion of my canine companions.  The bunnies, though cute, are not remotely inclined to sit near me, to let me pat them, or to even look interested when I come home. 

I miss, too, the Before Times of the taekwondo gym, when I felt that I had at last found a sport that this clumsy, awkward body might be able to tolerate, and when I felt that I finally might have found a group of people who could be the friends of my adulthood. There are so many complex feelings surrounding taekwondo and the gym. Most of those feelings I have processed, and many I have let go; sometimes, though, a bitter piece of flotsam rises to the surface of memory, and I must contend with it, or watch it pass by. I remind myself that I met Cherished Friend through the taekwondo gym, and that this most valuable friendship is a comfort to me, always. (Even though he is currently so far away, in Oceanside.)

On top of it all, I am still strained about the Pandemic. I have started going more places, and I see fewer and fewer masks, and I am more and more uncomfortable. I don't trust people. Are they vaccinated? or non-vaccine, non-mask assholes? No way to tell. I might have to stop going more places, until I can reach a greater comfort level. 

Beloved Husband and I have started making travel plans to see some of my family, whom I have not seen since the Christmas season prior to the onset of the Pandemic. I would like to see them. I do not want to travel. I am exhausted just thinking about it. I will do what I must and rise to the occasion, but holy cannoli, I do not want to imagine traveling in late-stage Pandemic, and trying to feed myself in a migraine-free manner while doing so.

I need a little bit of peace.

Eventually. 

Detente

The bunnies have declared a truce. Thank goodness. 

Fashion NO

Amazon Fashion:

Human beings are NOT actually shaped like that. 

Signed,

Just No.

Sundance

 As work is increasingly stressful lately (so much to do), I resort to putting on soothing music in the background in the office to help. A recent earworm: Sundance, by Jonae. It's lovely.

I hope you enjoy. 

Kitty Sitting

Offspring the Third and Beloved Husband went camping, so I was left in charge of kitties for the weekend. They were very friendly and pleasant. They do make me itch ever so slightly, but we still had a good time playing with kitty toys and looking out the window. 

 

Shadow

 Herself speaks.

Last week, I attended an event that was an educational program for local women. I was on the speaker panel, serving in a professional capacity to provide a few snippets of advice about my area of expertise. The women who attended had interesting and thoughtful questions, and it was a fruitful experience. 

Two of the other women on the speaker panel are in industries that work in conjunction with mine for certain transactions, and have interacted with Beloved Husband on a professional basis numerous times in the past. (He and I work together in the same industry.) And as the introductions were being made by the moderator, these two other panelists mentioned Beloved Husband -- and, in fact, spoke glowingly and a bit at length about about him before I'd even had an opportunity to introduce myself. They eventually moved on, and I was able to provide my background (including giving Beloved Husband credit for bringing me on board to work with him, and his training me). The rest of the program went well, and he was mentioned less as we progressed.

-----

I don't begrudge the glowing mentions of Beloved Husband. He is absolutely excellent in his field: bright, extremely competent, creative, thorough. He's an outstanding teacher. He handles business conflict resolution extremely well. He has a wide network of business acquaintances and compatriots who work together well and support one another. And: he's a genuinely nice person. 

The result of this: he casts a very large professional shadow -- one that I will never truly be able to step out of. I came to this industry late (a mere seven years ago) after twenty-two years of a separate industry. We work in the same office. I am still in many ways under his tutelage and I continue to need his help, because the ways of thinking and looking at problems in this line of work do not come easily for me. I will forever be associated not only personally, but also professionally with him in most circles. And that's mostly fine. Every now and then, though, I feel a little bit... subsumed. Especially when I cannot make an appearance at a women-led and women-driven event, without his shadow preceding me. 

It's times like this, that I miss my other Project, because that is something that is truly Mine. 

Time to work on growing my individual hobbies. So that I can still be Me, in addition to being Beloved Husband's wife and work partner. 

1,000 Years

Although I am not immersed in the Void, nor am I especially Suffering,  I will say that it's been a long week, and that today in particular was 1,000 years long. 

I am tired. 

“Some days simply lay on you like stones.” ― Patrick Rothfuss, The Slow Regard of Silent Things

Places I Wish I Were

I miss hiking here. Perhaps again, someday.

The DRAMA

The bunnies had a tiff. Apparently brown bun wants to be in charge of everyone, and big white bun is resentful. The barrier has been reinstated until everyone can get along again. Big white bun got custody of smaller white bun, since they are usually inseparable. Brown bun gives not one fig and isn't even looking at the others. Oh, dear. 

Unicorn

Herself speaks.

I finally had an appointment with a neurologist to try to get a better handle on the sheer volume of headaches/migraines I am experiencing these days. And as I contemplated the question, How many days of the week do you have a headache and found myself responding inside my head, Easier to count the number of days I do NOT have a headache, I felt... sad. And angry. And frustrated.

When I explained the new migraine prodrome symptoms I've experienced lately, the neurologist stated, that's rather out of the ordinary for migraine aura. We should do an EEG to make sure it's not seizure activity.

Erm, what?

It makes sense to check, certainly, and I'm glad she recommended it. It may be "nothing," and if so, there will be that relief of it not being something Serious. (With a tiny sprinkling of so what is it then frustration). It'll most likely be some kind of standard horse, not a zebra, or a unicorn. We shall see.

After I left the appointment, I sat in my car for a bit. I peeled off my mask and checked the bandage on my face from the MOHS surgery to make sure it was still properly attached. And felt the tiniest bit sorry for myself. 

I know that my body is still serviceable and functioning reasonably well, all things considered.  Nevertheless, there are so many small issues. I know that am so fortunate to be able to afford medical care to tackle all the issues, and to be able to find doctors who specialize in the various systems. I do wish, though, that there were fewer issues. I only have the brain space for so many at once. I'm tackling one thing at a time. And frustrated, knowing that the path to tackle them all is longer than I would like it to be.

Perhaps some of the concern I have mentioned before -- that other people are uncomfortable with being in physical proximity to me (which I talked a bit about here) -- stems from a discomfort in existing inside my own slightly problematic body. Sometimes I don't like my body much; why should anyone else? 

Trying to learn to embrace myself, metaphorically and perhaps even literally. One day at a time. And with unicorn band-aids, just because. Luna Lovegood would approve, I think. 

Baby Bun Flashback

The trio, with their siblings. SO CUTE.