Fuzzbutt

Miss Poppy is such a... LARGE and fuzzy bun. 

Question, and Answer

 Herself speaks.

One of the things I miss most about my lovely Daddy, is how, every now and then, when we had that ever-so-rare moment to ourselves, he would ask, "How are you doing?" 

I would always be caught off guard by the question. It's as if he somehow knew that there was something else, something deeper and perhaps more painful, behind the deliberately bland/benignly cheerful/otherwise quiet persona that I carry around with me. 

I was never completely honest with him. Primarily because I didn't want him to worry. (Or secondarily, to share anything too private with anything else.) And what could he do, anyway, if I told him that I was Tired or burnt out or worried about all the small things? 

Perhaps I was doing him a disservice by not letting him in. He would have gladly helped me to carry my burden -- whatever it was -- for a little while, if it could have brought me some peace. This I know.

I wonder if I could be more honest now, if he were still alive. Or perhaps, it is the freedom of knowing that he is both Nowhere and Everywhere all at once, that I can at last talk to him in my head instead, and tell him the Truth. 

Perhaps that is why I miss the question: because I am finally ready to answer. 

And that is just one reason why I miss my lovely Daddy: because he is the only one who ever asked the question.  

Find the Happy Ending

(Bianca Sparacino, again)

Good Enough

When you are not feeling good enough, remember that sometimes the root of feeling not good enough comes from holding yourself to someone else’s ideal rather than your own. Remember that you are the only person who gets to decide if you are good enough. You are the only person qualified enough to determine your value.

― Bianca Sparacino, A Gentle Reminder

Identifying As An Anchovy

Jiggedy-Jig

 Herself speaks.

The past two weeks were a whirlwind of travel, for volunteering things and Offspring-social-related-things, and it was all good and motivating and very intensive and holy cow, my brain and my feet and my capacity for interaction with other human beings are all so tired. I want to just sit in the quiet of my house. But work is Oh So Busy and Life Continues Apace, so I march forward, one day at a time, trying to get things done. 

I am also trying not to read the news, because the news continues to be just SO TERRIBLE (not to mention occasionally ridiculous). I can only focus on so much at once -- full-on, self-protective mode, here we are. 

Yesterday at the end of the business lunch, my fortune cookie was vaguely ominous. It could be interpreted as positive, but all I could think was, Please, NO, Universe, I have learned enough lessons for now, I do not need any more. 

On we go. One step at a time. 

More Travels

Monday Meme-day

The Beauty in Small Things

Chemical Sunset

 And on the opposite side of pre-dawn driving music, we have another song from Orville Peck's new album:  Chemical Sunset.

This would be my current audio stim. Excellent. 

I hope you enjoy.

Midnight Ride

 Recently, I found myself driving back from the airport in the very small hours of the morning -- I had just delivered Offspring the Third, off on a work-related adventure (best of luck, my lovely young man, I hope it is a fantastic journey!), and was returning home along the nearly empty highway. 

I'd forgotten the small pleasure of solitary highway driving in the pre-dawn hours. 

The moment was made complete by one of the songs from Orville Peck's new album: Midnight Ride.

Nice.

For that one brief moment, everything was OK.