I Don't Need It

They had baby guinea pigs at the pet store this evening. 

I don't need another pet. And I would want to adopt a rescue, anyway, rather than buy one from a store.

Still -- SO CUTE.

Things That Make Your Blood Run Cold

A poem, by Marge Piercy: Right to Life.

“A woman is not a basket you place your buns in to keep them warm. Not a brood hen you can slip duck eggs under.
Not the purse holding the coins of your
descendants till you spend them in wars.
Not a bank where your genes gather interest
and interesting mutations in the tainted rain, any more than you are.
You plant corn and you harvest it to eat or sell.
You put the lamb in the pasture to fatten and haul it in to butcher for chops.
You slice the mountain in two for a road and gouge the high plains for coal and the waters run muddy for miles and years.
Fish die but you do not call them yours unless you wished to eat them.
Now you legislate mineral rights in a woman.
You lay claim to her pastures for grazing,
fields for growing babies like iceberg lettuce.
You value children so dearly that none ever go hungry, none weep with no one to tend them when mothers work, none lack fresh fruit, none chew lead or cough to death and your orphanages are empty. Every noon the best restaurants serve poor children steaks.
At this moment at nine o'clock a partera
is performing a table top abortion on an
unwed mother in Texas who can’t get
Medicaid any longer. In five days she will die
of tetanus and her little daughter will cry
and be taken away.
Next door a husband and wife are sticking pins in the son they did not want. They will explain for hours how wicked he is, how he wants discipline.
We are all born of woman, in the rose
of the womb we suckled our mother’s blood
and every baby born has a right to love
like a seedling to sun.
Every baby born unloved, unwanted, is a bill that will come due in twenty years with interest, an anger that must find a target, a pain that will beget pain.
A decade downstream a child screams, a woman falls, a synagogue is torched, a firing squad is summoned, a button is pushed and the world burns.
I will choose what enters me, what becomes of my flesh.
Without choice, no politics, no ethics lives. I am not your cornfield, not your uranium mine, not your calf for fattening, not your cow for milking.
You may not use me as your factory.
Priests and legislators do not hold shares in my womb or my mind.
This is my body. If I give it to you I want it back.
My life is a non-negotiable demand."

Postcard

Every photo of Oceanside seems almost like a postcard. 

Here in the dry and the heat of the desert in summertime, it is hard to believe that so much water exists in one place. Not to mention, the fact that people spend so much time near, on, or in the water. Can't you smell the sea in the air?

Nice.

Photo Copyright 2022, Mediocria Firma.

All rights reserved. Used with gratitude.

Flashback

Shuffling through old photos. Ah, the late 70s/early 80s: a time of bowl haircuts and patchy sweaters.
I was very fond of that beaded necklace, and all things koala.

Bird Watching

 One of Offspring the Third's kitties makes a beeline for the front window whenever she emerges from his room. If the shutters are closed, she meows plaintively until we open them so that she can sit and watch birds in the front yard. She's there for hours. Sometimes, her sister cat will sit with her too, although she has much less interest in the birds. 

Good kitties.

Worry LInes

 This popped up in my Facebook feed, and is adorable.

Ferns and moss are excellent.

What a nice way of thinking of things.

For so much more, visit https://www.worrylines.net/. 

Tophouse

Today's earworm: Where Are You (Tophouse).

Tophouse is a band I came across on TikTok, and it hit just the right spot. 

Enjoy.

Don't

 Herself speaks.

Just the other day, I was compelled to explain to someone why it is not necessary to point out to an overweight person that they are, in fact, overweight. 

Fat people know. 

We know. 

-----

Think about it: are you aware of the size and shape of your body? How it moves through and occupies space? How it fills a movie theater seat? Whether you can maneuver it through aisles of stores, past people in restaurants? You know. Everyone knows. 

Fat people know.

To point out to a person that they are overweight, is to make a pronouncement about their unacceptability: I am reminding you that you do not meet the expected norms for our society. I find your body unacceptable.

The unspoken yet very clear message: You are unattractive, lazy, careless. Slovenly. Repellent. You should not be out in public, because you do not meet the right standards. You are not one of us. 

-----

In general, most people want to belong: to be part of the group, to be recognized as a human being having intrinsic value. Pointing out that an overweight person is overweight, reminds them that they do not belong. That their value is diminished because of their size. 

So much value placed on a body. 

No one wants to look at you, to talk to you, to treat you as a worthwhile person. You should not be seen.

Does pointing out a person's excess weight, motivate them to lose weight or otherwise try to fit better within acceptable norms? No. No, it does not. It does motivate them to self-flagellate, though, and to contemplate all the reasons why they are not acceptable. 

Just don't do it.

Feel compelled to "help" an overweight person?  If you are motivated to do so because you "feel bad" for someone who is fat -- don't help. No one needs pity aimed at them for failing to comport with societal norms. 

If you would like to assist an overweight person in living their best life, though, then I recommend the following: treat them as you would any other person of any other size. Do the things that many people like to do together -- go for a walk; cook and enjoy a healthful meal; have dessert on occasion.  Listen thoughtfully if they mention any weight-related goals. Do not offer advice unless you are specifically asked to do so. 

Just live life with them.

It's that easy.

Hot Diddly Dog

I love this food truck that I occasionally see during my commute. I've never sampled the wares, but look at that pig dancing with the hot dog. Excellent.

Un Livre

Je lis un livre. 

I'm Too Old For This

There was a snippet of a song on TikTok the other day - the part I heard included the words, I'm not shy. And because I like to keep up with what the Young Folks are listening to these days, I went to find it on YouTube.

The song is Slumber Partyi (Ashnikko ft. Princess Nokia). 

I listened to the "adult" version first. 

GOOD HEAVENS, THAT'S ENOUGH INTERNET FOR TODAY.

Definitely not Shy.

The sanitized version is... only slightly less adult.

Take your choice. Either way, I might be too old to listen to this music.

Mature adult version here:

Slightly sanitized, still adult version here:

Here's Hoping

This app has some really useful tools for helping to sort out some issues.  Cross your fingers that we can make some progress toward feeling better. 

Cooking

Today's goal was to make some kind of easy, migraine-friendly food to have handy for myself.

So close. And yet, so far.

I aimed for cookies. Oatmeal, rice flour, pumpkin, maple syrup, a few other known 'safe' ingredients. They turned out nicely -- fluffy and just the right amount of sweetness.

The mistake: adding "pumpkin pie spice". The standard mixture which we all know: cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, allspice, and such.

Shortly after consuming them, I wondered why my lips felt a little tingly. And then the headache started. 

That would be a NO going forward. 

-----

My frustration is pretty high right now. Every time I try to eat better and do better, I run into the fact that so many "healthy" foods are problematic for me. Even spices, apparently. 

You'd think I'd be thinner. But really, pre-headache I have carbohydrate cravings (which I am now recognizing as part of the headache/migraine prodrome), so... not so skinny. Just fat and headache-y and uncomfortable.

I spent the day doing some research on low amine foods - I know that many of my headache triggers (bananas, aged cheeses, pickled things, cured/smoked/processed meats, soy, sourdough) are high in tyramine; others (avocados, nuts, citrus, beans) are high in histamine or are histamine releasers. Maybe low amine will help? Well, that's a VERY limited number of foods.

I'm willing to try. The problem is, I give up easily because I don't feel better right away.

I need to try harder.

One day at a time. 

Onward

After the various remembrances of the past several days, this cartoon from The Awkward Yeti seems particularly appropriate.

Onward to good things!

One

 It's been one year since Tiny Dog passed to the Great Beyond. 

Every now and then, I still find myself expecting to hear a bark when I come in through the front door.

-----

I used to wonder why people noted ("celebrated" is clearly not the right word) the anniversary of the death of a loved one -- wouldn't it be more appropriate to mark their birthday or some happier day in remembrance of them? And yet here I am. Perhaps I'm not ready to let go of the pain of her loss. Perhaps holding on to that pain, is holding on to her in a way. 

Rest easy, Tiny Dog. You are safe inside my heart. 

Thirteen

 Thirteen years ago, I arrived. 

Thank you, stalwart readers, for following these meandering, introspective ruminations over the years. I am grateful for your presence.

Onward we go. 

Proximity

 Herself speaks.

It has been two years since the Divergence, when Cherished Friend left this desert land and headed to Oceanside. 

Seems like yesterday. And like an Eternity. 

I have not seen him in person nearly as often as I would have liked (there being a Global Pandemic, and all) -- only once, to date. And electronic communication, whether written or via video chat, is a poor second to in-person conversation. It's the best that there is for now, though. 

I miss the ability to go for a walk, to play Scrabble, even just to roam through the aisles of a store, in his company. It's not big things; it's little things.

I hope to make plans soon to visit Oceanside again, so that I can enjoy a bit of Proximity once more.

Photo Copyright 2020, 2022, Mediocria Firma.

All rights reserved. Used with gratitude.

Pride

June is Pride Month, so let us take this moment to celebrate the LGBTQIA+ Community. We must do whatever we can to ensure that people can safely be their authentic selves, and are embraced for who they are, whoever they are. For this is what it means to be human: to be oneself, and to belong. With love and with joy.

Today's earworm: This is Me (from The Greatest Showman). Enjoy. 

Itch

 Well, hello, chronic hives, I cannot say that I've missed you. 

You made an  unwelcome appearance about three months ago, too, but I thought that was perhaps a one-time event. Apparently not, though.

It's frustrating, because it's hard to concentrate or accomplish tasks when there is such an itch present.  For example, I've sat here for what seems like eons, trying to find a topic to write about, but all I can think about is whether a fresh ice pack will help with the hives, whether the headache is due to the ice pack, and what if the hives spread someplace problematic like my face or my throat? 

I daydream about existing in a body that cooperates. Imagine, a body that goes about its business without pain or discomfort or excessive reaction to the world around it. 

I wonder what that would be like?

Who knows?

Lechuga

Although I loathe hearing the eating noises of people, I find the sounds of the pets enjoying their food to be oddly soothing. 

Fuzzy Blanket

 We are approaching the anniversary of the passing of Tiny Dog, and as we get closer, Facebook Flashbacks presents me with the many photos of her last days. So sweet. So small. My Tiny Dog.

I have loved all of my fine canine companions. They were each unique, and Special. Perhaps because I knew that Tiny Dog would be my last dog for a while, though, her loss feels proportionately larger. Or perhaps it is because it echoes the prior losses of all the other dogs. They are all together now, wherever they are. Nowhere, and Everywhere. 

Even though it won't happen, I like to think about ethereal Couch Time with them all. Complete with fuzzy blankets. They would all like that, and so would I. 

Beautiful Pie

 Today's earworm: She Used to be Mine (Sara Bareilles). 

It's lovely, and sad. It doesn't quite fit, but it's a sweet reminder of how we change as Life Happens.

She is messy but she's kind
She is lonely most of the time
She is all of this mixed up
And baked in a beautiful pie