Nose to the Grindstone

 Herself speaks.

Whoops, it's been nearly two weeks. I have been buried in Things and Work and Extracurriculars. It's not bad, necessarily: honestly, having so many things to do keeps me from Ruminating, which is a very good thing. One of my projects in particular has required a certain amount of creative writing, which is my favorite pastime, and that has helped a great deal in building a ladder out of the Pit of Despair and Obligation where I had been dwelling for so long. 

One hard part, though, is not falling victim to the News. Because Jesus Hallelujah Christ on a bike, the news is SO TERRIBLE. I don't even know where to begin, or what to mention, because I don't want to risk thinking too much about what is happening. The state of the country's government, though, is... just Horrid. . 

It's as though the orange man is deliberately choosing individuals who are the worst possible options for every position. His neo-Nazi henchman, meanwhile, is marching around slashing and burning hundreds of government positions, cruelly, needlessly, thereby endangering our national parks and untold other government institutions and programs. The director of health and human services is an anti-vaccine, anti-antidepressant fruitcake who would like to set up 'wellness farms' for drug rehabilitation (that's not suspicious at all.)  There are newly proposed laws that would make it inherently more difficult for women and people of lesser economic means to vote. Oh, and the GULF OF AMERICA. (Eyeroll.) It is all terrible. TERRIBLE. 

And so I keep my nose to the grindstone, doing my work, trying not to hear the News, doing my best to take care of myself (still kind of poorly, but someday, I'll do better). One day at a time. 

It's going to be a really long four years, though. 

How Far

Today's earworm: How Far Will We Take It? (Orville Peck & Noah Cyrus).

He really did such a lovely job of picking other voices to harmonize with on the Stampede album. 

As visually striking as many of his music videos are, I think this particular song is best listened to with eyes closed. It's even in the lyrics themselves. 

Being in your arms is what I came here for
I'll close my eyes if you close the door
I felt the fire, but couldn't see the flames
You didn't say it, but I know that you felt the same

I hope you enjoy. 

Witness Me

She was tiny. She came up from her watery depths, and her last and greatest effort was so that she could see the world bathed in a light that, for once, was not of her own making. 

And we, creatures of land and light, were privileged enough to see her final journey. 

This fish breaks my heart. 

Godspeed to her. 

Paintings by @sydbecrafty. Lovely. 

Current Events

With eternal thanks to cartoonist Scott Metzger, for capturing exactly how it is. 

Cripes. I canNOT read the news. I canNOT look away. It's like a clown car and Opposite Day rolled into one: finding the most contrarian and least competent person for a government job, and installing them in it by unceremoniously shoving the current capable person out of the position.  People with no experience, but with openly anti-science, racist/bigoted views, now having access to all sorts of information and more - all while clamping down on free speech through forbidding publication of data and reports that have previously been regularly, and more. It changes and evolves into new and more horrible forms on the daily. I can't keep up. 

It's shocking. 

Help. I am all puffy. 

The Pettiest of Petty Things

 Herself speaks.

Recently, Beloved Husband had his vision surgically corrected. It was something he has spoken about for a while as wanting to do; he up and decided at the turn of the New Year to take immediate steps to put it on the calendar. And so, it was done. 

He mentioned afterward that for the procedure, they offered all patients a teddy bear to hold. And while I know that's essentially a distraction so that the patient's hands are occupied and they won't accidentally touch anything they should not (such as the sterile eyeball field), all I could think was, once more, his lucky star was shining through -- he was offered a comfort item to hold, during an elective procedure he chose to have. 

Never once, in the history of ever, in all the various non-elective (and varying-degrees-of-unpleasant) procedures I have needed to have, have I ever been offered a comfort item. It's hard to bring your own stuffed animal when you're an adult -- no one wants to seem juvenile or afraid. But a teddy bear would have been helpful on more than one occasion. Moreso than, "Don't cry, you'll get all stuffy." 

Help, I'm envious of this seemingly inconsequential thing. 

I am truly glad for him, that he could undertake this elective procedure that he wanted. And that it went well, and all was good. 

And at the same time, inside my heart, I envy his good experience, and his comfort. Because those are not things I have gotten to have. I carry memories of some very unpleasant medical experiences within this body. How I wish I could forget them. 

Perhaps next time (because we all know I will have a Next Time), I'll bring my own comfort item. 

Duo-ing the Lingos

It's not much, but it's honest work. 

The Dream Keeper