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Sleeping is this huge elaborate thing these days. I figured out about two years ago what exactly has to happen and where everything has to be, and I have adhered to this to the best of my ability through thick and thin. For two years.
And for those two years, at least once, and possibly twice a night, I wake up enough to realize that my mouth and my eyes are dry. I have a Brita water bottle; the filter reduces the possibility of unwelcome dripping all over. I get a sip of water, then I get my eyedrops and flood my eyes. All the moving parts are in exactly the same position every night, both mine and theirs. I do these things and have done these things every night, for two years. Every night. Two years.
So last night I woke up and got my drink of water and went to put drops in my eyes, and I squeezed the bottle, and I squeezed the bottle harder, and I squeezed it really really hard. Then I took the top off and tried to blow through it and scratch whatever was blocking it away, but that didn’t work. So I went to put the top back on the bottle, and realized that the dropper part was part of the bottle, and that what I’d been trying to get drops out of was the cap.
I wish somebody would explain.
But. We got snow! So I put on my red boots and went out, because winter without pictures is not winter at all.
I did the turkey thing. I like the turkey thing, because it is so less full of nonsense, and I actually take great pride in my turkey-making skills, so once a year, bring it on! My ex-husband comes up, and we just hang out, good dishes brought out, leftovers are divvied* up, and so on.
(eta: “don’t undercook the turkey don’t undercook the turkey don’t undercook the turkey! When I took it out of the oven and set it out, it didn’t stop steaming for the half-hour before I picked it up to put it one the carving board – at which point, it fell apart. Don’t listen to people on the internet so much.)
Except maybe I am kind of too damaged to do that much lifting and stretching, and I’m certainly too old to do that much eating. Plan for next year? Well, either stretch the whole prep thing out over a couple of days, or go somewhere else. And Don’t Eat So Much! I might not be hungry for days.
And we’ve been nice, and let Katniss on the table, because cat. And she loves turkey. And then I trained her to eat giblets (she was indifferent to the gizzard, but then I turned her on to the liver), and then she got some pieces of the Real Deal. (She yelled at me about her food this morning. I think she was expecting that other stuff. Sorry.) And there was the No Getting On The Table Good Dishes, thing. But she was fed and petted and all kinds of things that are not normal were going on, and she generally got really worked up, and I was expecting some act of rebellion, but she is being The Good Kitty.**
There was the thing in the beginning of the year where my little brother was sick and I – foolishly, OMG what was I thinking – tried to get some help from my older brother while angry, and now none of us are speaking. I can laugh this off some – and am kind of astonished to realize that we were raised by wolves – but part of me is crazy. So I look at my brother’s wife’s sister’s facebook page, mostly because I figure if it’s something bad, it will show up there. Well, I didn’t think about good things, and all of a sudden there was a picture of the whole family posing-for-a-Thanksgiving-picture. Including my brother, who looked kind of unhappy, as in why am I doing this unhappy. And I was all like “Dude, serves you right go be unhappy with your important east-coast-so-much-better-than-we-are relatives haha my brother isn’t happy with his family.” And then a couple of hours later I realized it was really, “My brother is unhappy.”
And I think maybe eating a tiny breakfast – ANY breakfast – this morning was a bad idea, too.
Oh, well. Time to go bury myself in the open book that is American transcendentalism.
*There is a correct spelling for “divvied”. All this time, I guess I thought it was an imaginary word, that everybody used. Huh.
**As opposed to the one who peed in my bed – the same bed she is currently sleeping in. I suppose I should pee on her, but I am a forgiving person. Eventually.
But mostly I won’t. Because. But firstly-
If you find yourself in a job working for assholes, leave. I don’t care how good the money is. It’s just an excuse for you to turn into an asshole yourself. Enough said on that one.
In maybe related news, I started having problems with my distance learning pages, so I emailed tech support, and after a couple go-back-and-forths, they referred it to the distance learning people -
Who didn’t get back to me until I emailed all my profs and my advisor and tech services again. And their answer? “Oh, what I’m seeing in the chat forums is that it’s a problem with Chrome, switch to firefox and oh, by the way, sorry we just freaking ignored your problem until you started bitching.”
Which, you know, might not be what actually happened, but. One wonders.
And yeah, maybe not so much coffee there, Li’l Buckaroo.
In other news;
I found a different video that was clearer on draft/predraft. It’s a single ply, and the ball of yarn on the right is some leftover Lamb’s Pride/ Brown Sheep/ whatever that stuff is, worsted weight.
Another benefit? I can drive Katniss bonkers in so many new ways! I put the little drabs of fluff on her ears, and she goes berserk GET IT OFF OF ME SO I CAN KILL IT! And of course, the spindle which is spinning and bobbing and it’s got strings attached to it and it’s different! I should KILL but I am UNCERTAIN!
On her side of the fence, I tried to train her to jump up on a stool and sit up and take treats out of my hand, and she trained me to hold them at just the right level. Also, to pick them up off the floor if she drops them. And when she gets up on the stool I go over and pet her and give her treats. Um, win?
I am awesome.
My little brother had major health trouble going on at the beginning of the year. I bought myself some pretty sock yarn to help. I took it to his house, and all kinds of things went sideways, and I didn’t work on the half-finished sock, and stuck it in my laundry bag and brought it home and tossed the laundry in the wash including the 5 inches of knitted sock, two sets of double-pointed needles (one set of which was bamboo, four of which grew by 1 1/2 inches), and of course the skein.
It wasn’t pretty. Use your imagination. I sobbed. And laughed. And cut it off the agitator, and away from the rest of the load.
So I went back to the yarn store on Tower Ave in Superior, and they didn’t have that nice yarn, so I bought something that was pretty close and started working on it. It came out like ugly camo, and there was this weird color in there that I actually like but Not In That Sock. So I put that away and went to the internet and bought yarn like the stuff I’d sent through the washer. Nine months and $60 later, success.
In the meantime, I’d bought this other yarn, at that same store. I have tried twice to make socks out of this. I just hate the color. The yarn is wonderful, something with bamboo, but it just looks dirty. It holds up to frogging, I can say that much.
Then there was that yarn from Quince & Co. Tern? The fingering yarn with silk in it. Beautiful, beautiful yarn. I finished that pair of socks. I’d made one mistake that maybe should make one sock two rows shorter, which was fine because the first one was a little long.
That difference isn’t perspective. That’s how much the second sock is off.
There’s some Zitron that I bought recently. I’m halfway through the first sock. It seems to be going okay.
So I decided to try spinning again.
Left is yesterday, right is today. There’s a good solid foot in today’s that looks like yarn. Really bad yarn, but nevertheless.
Maybe the knit-fail elves will be distracted. There’s a sweater I want to make.
And then it became clear to me that I needed to do many other things. Like go for a walk.
The thing about this fall is that it’s been occasionally dry – dry enough that the air is full of dry-leaf smell, like it was today.
I suppose I should go rake those dry leaves. But I have to study.
So. We left the house today, which is news in and of itself for me; but still. And we’re driving down the street about a block from our house and this kid comes running out from between a couple of houses with a thing strapped across his back; a thing remarkably like an assault rifle. While saying, “I think it’s fake,” and “Do you think that’s a smart choice, kid?”, we settled on “Still, let’s get out of here NOW.”
We had left the house because we decided to get our flu shots today at the county HHS. I’d called them last Wednesday, and they said they’d have vaccine that afternoon. So, we went over Friday afternoon, and All The Nurses were out till after 3:00, when we had our own shit to do. They apologized.
We went back today, and now they were out of vaccine, and they told us to go to Walgreens. I kind of explained to them some things, you know? I know, beleaguered public servants. So I didn’t yell.
(By the way; acronym for the day is “OFFS.”)
So, I called my doctor’s office and made an appointment at their flu clinic. I told the phone person that I wanted Daughter (who was sitting next to me) to get stuck at the same time. When I got off the phone, Daughter said, “I always knew you loved me.”
Sarcasm is a deep-flowing river in our house.
Just one of the hazards of distance learning.
“And I would walk 500 miles,
And I would walk 500 more,
To be the kind of cat that sits down
On top of your white key board.”
When I couldn’t sleep, because coffee is my drug of choice.* I had two papers last week. One in philosophy, which I really care about, and one that was way harder than I allotted for. But they’re done. I didn’t even re-read the other one. I hope it made sense. But now all the back-burner stuff comes pouring out.
In serious stuff, I’ve been reading Ta-Nehisi Coates over at the Atlantic. I love his mind, he started taking French the same time I did, he writes so clearly. He’s been educating me about being black in America. I got thinking I should look more at this, so I borrowed James Baldwin’s essays from the library, and watched a PBS thing on him, so I have his real voice in my head, I can hear him speaking.
All I gotta say is, I’m sorry. I didn’t understand. I’ll try to do better.
In lighter stuff, I follow this Tumblr, Still Life Quick Heart. Let me rephrase that; I run screaming to hide in this Tumblr when it gets too real, man. So there’s a post up of a painting called “Asclepias,” a type of milkweed.
Did you know that they use milkweed fluff for hypoallergenic pillows? Suddenly, that’s all I can think of; curling up under a leaf, using spiderwebs for blankets and milkweed fluff for my pillow. And being really, really tiny. And possibly sparkly.
This week we start on Alienation and Aesthetics in philosophy. This time I’m ready.
And speaking of philosophy and Kant, I found this.
I am not alone.
* (Oh please, can’t I have a cigarette? I could write this I know I could! No. Not an option. It’s been six? Seven years? Can’t say, don’t want to look at all that crazy. But much better)
“To substitute subjective necessity, that is, custom, for objective, which exists only in a priori judgements, is to deny to reason the power of judging about the object, i.e., of knowing it, and what belongs to it.”
Discussions of a priori knowledge just make me all warm and gushy inside.
I promise, I’ll think about something else, someday.
No, Saturday. On Facebook. Somebody who was going on about the EVIL of Obamacare. My brain says, “these people are dogmatically opposed to something that will help millions of people live healthier, happier lives because they think it will cost them a few dollars and anyway it’s the poors’s fault for not having enough money or being retired and they should die.”
My lizard brain skips all that shit and goes straight to they want me to die.
It’s a little hard to focus on shit when a chunk of the government and people you used to have coffee with want you to die.
It’s also a little hard to not pay attention to people who want you to die. Sorry, that’s kind of hard-wired in – WATCH HIM HE IS TRYING TO KLL YOU – so no pictures of how pretty it is outside. Maybe tomorrow, because I’m tired of looking at those people.
And to make matters worse, we’re studying Utilitarianism. I scream, but there is no ice cream. Or space.