Halloween

Tidybun

Today's task: vacuuming the bun pens. So tidy! It won't stay that way for long, but it will be good while it lasts.

Teeny

There was a teeny tiny butterfly in my mother-in-law's garden. 

Awwww.

Doubtful

 This appeared in my Facebook ads. 

Um, what?!

Hypnotherapy can cure your IBS.

Somehow, I think... not. 

Citation needed, please.

Clashing Holidays

At the pharmacy this past weekend:

Christmas on the left, Halloween on the right.

Just no. Can we keep Christmas to AFTER Halloween, please? Thank you. 

A Little Reading

 I went to purchase a gift for a baby shower. My favorite present for such an occasion is books: I love children's books in all shapes and sizes and characters. I purchased some favorites -- The Very Hungry Caterpillar and Goodnight Moon and such -- whatever was available in a bilingual edition, which would be best for the Momma and baby in question. 

It's been a long time since I perused books for children. So many options!

Some were... a tiny bit questionable.

Others were lovely brightly-colored books with wholesome messages.

And there were classics, too.

It was very enjoyable. I'll have to go back to the bookstore again soon, just to look. 

Fragile Flower

 Herself speaks.

I went to the pharmacy get my flu shot today. (I already had a booster shot for COVID, two weeks ago. I didn't post about it then, because I still feel vaguely guilty about the availability of the vaccine and whether I am truly within a risk category warranting preferential access.)  It was fine -- stung a bit, but worth it to avoid/reduce the chance of getting sick. 

While I was at the pharmacy, I stood in line to pick up a prescription from one of my usual doctors whom I saw earlier this week. I had explained to him at the appointment that one of my chronic conditions has been flaring up again -- a congenital condition that, while not life-threatening, can be rather painful and interfere quite a bit with quality of life. (I have debated and decided not to name the condition here, since it is a gynecological matter; no one needs to look it up on the interwebs and have that possibly-distressing information rattling around in their heads forever.) We discussed options for changing up the treatment, and he recommended that I go back to an older treatment -- the treatment that seemed to work three decades ago when I was first diagnosed. I agreed. The only wrinkle is that the insurance company might not approve payment for that older treatment, for complex Reasons. We decided to give it a shot anyway.

After my appointment, I delved into a little research to see if there have been any changes in the customary treatments for this chronic condition. The research showed that the older treatment is a less-than-effective/out-of-favor treatment now, but there are a few second-line treatments to try that are somewhat successful. And then I got the expected email that my insurance would not cover the older treatment; so I contacted my doctor's office to request that he consider one of the second-line treatments that might be more effective than the older treatment anyway. He agreed, and sent in a prescription for one of the second-line treatments. OK then! Onward. 

When I got to the front of the line at the pharmacy today, the pharmacist informed me that my insurance had an issue with the second-line treatment, and that they had sent some information to my doctor's office for them to fax over to the insurance company. So all I can do now is wait, and see.

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I... am frustrated. 

Actually, I am angry. So very angry. 

It's not enough that I have several chronic conditions. Besides this one, there are the migraines and the IBS, and the related food sensitivities. The thyroid nodule that needs monitoring. The mammograms that must always be followed by ultrasounds and occasional biopsies. Let's not forget the various MOHS surgeries and repairs. Add to those, the periodically recalcitrant hip-and-lower-back issue that contributed to my giving up taekwondo; and the new grumbling knee that arose after we climbed that big mountain back in August. It's a lot. I try to exercise and to eat right, try to sleep enough and tend to myself, and yet I still struggle. 

It's hard not to take it personally. Why are you, body, making existence painful? 

I know that some people -- including some in my extended family -- tend to treat physical health issues as a personal or moral failing. If I only tried harder, I could somehow overcome the issues. Yeah, no. That won't happen. This is the body I am in, and it is temperamental and difficult. 

I feel a bit defective. Or maybe, I just feel a bit defeated. And I feel self-conscious -- my issues are, on the whole, invisible, and the temptation is to hide discomfort lest I look vulnerable, or needy, or weak. (Plus that niggling personal/moral failure thing.)

I am tired. Mentally, and physically.

I will keep trying. Onward we go. 

Spooky in the Neighborhood

Pocket Money

I would be willing to do this, for a little extra cash. Hee. 

That is a Really Niche Market

Spontaneous

Herself speaks.

Despite being a Definitely Not-Spontaneous Person, I was invited to join Beloved Husband who was participating in a four-wheeling fest nearby (about 100 miles away, as the crow flies). And I decided to go.

I pulled out my camping gear box, put a snack and a meal into a cooler, threw some clothes into a bag, and off I went.

All my gear worked Just Right, and I had everything I needed. The drive was pleasant, the sleeping comfortable (despite the occasional giant four-wheeling vehicle passing by like a lumbering stegosaurus). It was nice not to be at the house, feeling obligated to clean or tidy or organize.

The bunnies did just fine for 20 hours without me, which was comforting. (This was the first trial run of their being by themselves overnight.) Now I know that I can, if I so desire, pull out my camping gear box once more and disappear for a short while.

Perhaps I shall.

Howdy

I was hoping that Poppy would teach Cookie how to be relaxed and mellow. It appears, though, that she is instead teaching him how to jump up on things. I found them both sitting in Beloved Husband's chair while he was out one evening. 

The look on Cookie's face. UH, WHAT? I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING. Hilarious. 

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Sometimes, I have Pet Regret. Well, it's not that I regret adopting the bunnies (though I didn't think I would end up with four - that seems like A LOT of bunnies). It's more that they are so unlike my small dogs. The dogs were devoted, tidy, and loved to sit next to me on the couch. The bunnies are ambivalent, very messy, and frequently scamper away when I attempt to pat them. It's a very different pet experience, and it makes me miss the small dogs. 

The bunnies sure are cute, though. And really happy with their daily vegetables. That's something. 

Horns

It's a little creepy that 1) I took a "what hobby should you pick up?" quiz recently, which indicated that I should consider trying to learn a new musical instrument; and 2) IMMEDIATELY thereafter my Facebook Amazon ads began showing me vibrantly colored wind instruments.  (I would normally consider calling these "brass instruments" but they cannot possibly be brass in those colors, can they?)

At any rate, this is the closest my Facebook ads have gotten to accuracy. Even though I don't need a pastel sousaphone just yet. 

Gardening Assist

Offspring the Third was contacted by a local-to-him gardening club, which needed help with their raised planters. He promptly packed up his tools, arrived at the location, and built some planters for them. 

It warms my heart to know that he had an opportunity to be helpful in this way, because those kinds of projects mean a great deal to him. He's such a good egg and delights in helping people. 

Well done, Offspring the Third. You are a fine young man and it's a privilege to know you. 

Bond

 Warning: spoiler about the new James Bond movie. You have been warned!

Herself speaks.

On Friday, Beloved Husband and I went to a showing of the latest James Bond film, No Time To Die. It was a reserved-theater event with some colleagues (a nice group of people), which made the social event more tolerable than being in a room full of strangers. Despite the sign on the door of the theater stating that masks were required, there were not many masks. I have to come to terms with the fact that mine might be one of the few masks in any given situation, because I know that my social distancing level/need for masks is higher than that of most people, including Beloved Husband -- but that's a "me" problem. Is it a problem? My brain hurts trying to figure out the social requirements of late-stage Pandemic.

The movie was good, and very typical James Bond fare, with fancy cars and dressed-up parties and chases and fight scenes and whatnot. Daniel Craig is my favorite actor to play Bond: he seems to add an emotional depth to the character. Which is why, even though I could see the end coming from a long way off, it was... distressing. There was no other way to handle the end, the way the plot had been set up; but still. 

I left the theater feeling sad -- as if someone I cared about had moved out, and I had closed the door on their room, knowing it was now empty.  I was not ready for that feeling. With all the losses and changes over the past year and a half or so, it's a little close to home. 

Well done, Daniel Craig, and thank you for your time as James Bond. 

Photo found here: 

https://www.denofgeek.com/movies/no-time-to-die-ending-explained/

New Roommate

Poppy and her new friend have been playing nicely together during floor-time, and so I checked to see whether they would get along in the same pen. They did indeed. I expanded the pen a little bit, so that they would have room to spread out in case they grew tired of one another, but they spent most of their time squashed together on purpose. 

I am glad. Bunnies should have a companion, to improve their quality of life. We do the best we can for our fur friends. 

Barking Up The Wrong Tree

Not enough NO in the world here, Facebook. 

Pickle

This plant: what exactly is it? Besides a pickle plant, apparently. 

Fascinating. 

Patronus

Herself speaks.

I've decided that I'm not going to delve any further into the root of that irrational and primal sense of abandonment that haunts me on occasion. I know the circumstances under which it arises, and I need to learn how to handle it when it does. 

So I've gotten myself a patronus to help. It's a unicorn. And she'll be there with me, whenever I need.

That Text

 Herself speaks.

Earlier this week, I got THAT TEXT from one of the Offspring. 

I'm OK. Car is done.

It was handled well; tow truck enlisted, insurance called, everything taken care of. I sort of want details about the accident, and sort of VERY MUCH don't. It's all I can do not to imagine the terribleness. Don't want to encourage catastrophic thinking on my part.

All I can think is: they are OK. My new mantra.

I still feel queasy thinking about it. 

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Parenting adult offspring is HARD. They need to find their own paths, explore and make their own choices and go where their hearts lead. 

I just wish that I could keep them safe from the pain -- physical and emotional -- of Life. I know I can't. I'll have to continue to sit back and watch things unfold, and to make sure that they have a soft place to land and a helping hand when needed.

I love them so. I hope they know.

Zzzzzzz

If only we could all sleep as well as a bun. 

Toad

Spotted while out walking this evening: a teeny tiny desert toad. Well done, toad!