1k the lazy way.

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Behold the skulls of my ... um.. I've got nothing.

Well, I've got a cool picture of skulls, so that counts right?

Headache, go away.

Dear Reader,

I had a migraine this morning. It sucked. It sucked the life out of me for most of the day. It was stupid luck that I was awake when the landlord stopped by to fix the light in the entryway and replace the battery in the smoke detector that has been chirping for a while. Did I mention that the smoke detector is 8 ft in the air, at least. They didn't advertise high ceilings in the apartment, but the back hallway and the bathroom have high ceilings. High enough that you need a real ladder for a 6ft tall man to reach the ceiling and replace the stupid battery in the stupid smoke detector but it takes forever because there is TWO smoke detectors and you have to test both to figure out which one is the one that actually works.

One used to be hardwired in and has been left in place because there is a hole in the ceiling there. Of course that one doesn't work. And the other was a pain to deal with because you had to use a screwdriver to open it up and get into the guts of it to replace a 9 volt battery. It was annoying. Can you tell I am annoyed with the affair? The landlord was bemused with it all. That only added to my irritation. It was the fact that he had the gall to ask if there was anything else to be fixed while he was there. I was so gob smacked I didn't rattle off the list of the door frame that's coming apart in the kids room, the sink that gurgles loudly when ever a quantity of water goes down the drain ANYWHERE in the building, or the electrical outlet that is getting loose again.

I just stared at him in disbelief as he walked out cheerfully, as if he were some kind of minor hero. I loathe this man. He didn't even notice the door slamming behind him. The front door that has one of those hinges that is supposed to keep it from slamming, slammed because it is broken. According to theory, he has painters working on sprucing up the interior of the building and there will be contractors coming in to fix the hole in the entryway ceiling. I suspect hell will freeze over first.

I have had a headache all day. It makes me a little grumpy. But not as grumpy as that made me.

A bit of rambling thoughts.

Dear Reader,

I have been having some trouble with a manuscript, again. I'm not going to shove it into a proverbial drawer and forget about it, but I am mildly vexed with the thing. At the same time, I am realizing the problem is not the manuscript. The problem is how I am viewing things. Mostly myself, to be honest.

I have a pretty severe case of imposter syndrome. I feel like I'm a fraud because I am not selling books and I'm not out there hustling my work to make money. I feel like I'm a fraud because I spend most days struggling with therapy writing and doing things to try to make my brain work properly instead of engaging in the Great Work. The running joke when I was a kid was that I was going to write the next great american novel. The joke wasn't funny to me. I didn't care if it was the next great american novel, but the idea of writing as my purpose in life was very strong.

I spend less time "writing" than I did when I was in my twenties. I feel guilty about that. I pulled off college, full time work, and working on a novel all at the same time. I feel like I should be able to churn out that level of effort now. And I feel like a fraud because I can't, because I'm disabled and I have two children who keep me busy. I have times where I feel like I'm walking a high wire act with out a net and have a bout of emotional vertigo. That's when I feel like a fraud.

Who am I to by writing about home economics? I'm just a housewife, not a professional. Who am I to be writing erotica? I've only had three lovers in my life.  Who am I to be writing recipes? I'm no award winning chef.

The list of it all goes on and on. So, I get into this state where I am all a quiver with anxiety and my mind is racing with this back and forth between what I described above and a very indignant part of me that says with enough research, creativity, and time, I can write damn near anything on any topic.

But, tonight, I feel like a fraud and the castigating side of the argument is louder. I've talked about this stuff in therapy. It all boils down to the sheer volume of emotional abuse that I had to put up with in the past. All of the cutting remarks and backhanded "critiques" that were made just churned up with my anxiety into a hell broth for my brain. Throw in a bit of seasonal affective disorder on top of it, I basically sit and stew with anxiety for hours until I'm exhausted or angry, if not both.

It's really frustrating. Because I know that scumbag brain is lying to me. I can point out all the damn lies line for line. But my anxiety goes "But what if...?" and I'm off to the races. I'm going to start writing down counter arguments for this litany of how I'm not qualified for anything. I have plenty of notebooks. And when scumbag brain gets going, I'm going to recite the counter arguments kinda like medieval people recited prayers against temptation when things got hard. Who knows if it will help or not.

Dairy free cookie dough bites.

1 c almond flour
1/4 c granulated stevia sweetener for baking
1/4 c almond milk
dash of vanilla extract
handful dark chocolate chips

Mix together until a soft dough forms. Shape into walnut sized balls. Chill in the fridge until firm.

Goes excellently with tea. I've been experimenting with ratios of spices in this too. A generous amount of cinnamon and nutmeg gives you something like a snickerdoodle cookie dough. According to the source recipe (which uses cream instead of almond milk) this has around 3.5 carbs per serving which is theoretically three balls.

Life Ramblings.

New hair.

So, life's been busy. The kids went back to school last month and I've been spinning in circles doing everything but spinning right now. I have started working on my NaNoWriMo project already because I'm drafting it out by hand. I feel absolutely zero guilt for starting early. Because I know that November is going to be kinda nuts.

I mean, the kids have a week long break in the middle of the month and a few days off to go with it. I'm pretty sure it's going to make me go even more grey.

The depression thing is somewhat improved. It's weird. I am no longer at that state of numb/ready to start sobbing at the drop of a hat. At the same time, I'm not feeling well. On a scale of one to ten, with one being severely depressed and ten being manic, I'm around a five. With troublesome thoughts bothering me and increase migraines. I am pretty sure the migraines is because of the higher dosage of the antidepressant and the fact that the weather has been swinging back and forth between seasonable and stupid. I'm upright and functional, so I guess that is a win. The real question is if the seasonal affective disorder is going to rear its head and screw everything up.

I am right now not thrilled with the fact that I've had to cut my hair short out of necessity. I am now having eczema issues on my ears. This means my hair being against my ears itches terribly. And I have to make sure that I wear the RIGHT scarves or I'm ready to rip the thing off my head because it makes my ears bother me. I'm still trying to convince myself that it is perfectly acceptable to moisturize the tops of my ears. My skin has been getting drier. I've been attempting to deny it and act like it is not an issue but it really is a thing. And I think it is directly tied to the diabetes.

Next week I have my appointment with my family doctor to see how I am doing with the diabetes thing. My average fasting blood sugars have dropped into the upper end of the normal range. I'm not sure if he wants me to get them lower or not. I am still struggling to figure out what foods are ok for me to eat. It pains me to say that pasta and I are going to have to part ways. Even an appropriate serving of pasta makes my blood sugar spike. This makes me very sad because pasta is my favorite food in the whole world. And zucchini noodles are just not the same as spaghetti.

I am slowly assembling a small cookbook of collected recipes for managing my diabetes stuff and still have the rest of the family able to eat normalish. Because I've hit the point that preparing three meals every meal is too much. I'm now down to two because the kids are picky and Beloved is doing his best to eat what I do. I have a large stockpile of pasta that I am going to pretty much be cooking for Beloved and the kids. It makes me kinda sad that I can't enjoy it but at least they get to.

I'm struggling to adjust to my new normal. I look in the mirror and the reflection just doesn't look right. I went grey over the course of a few months and didn't realize how much of my hair had gone grey until I got it cut. I've had my hair get thinner over the last several months. I'm trying not to listen to my anxiety telling me that I'm going to suffer from female pattern baldness. My pants size has gone down, which I suppose is good, but the number on the scale hasn't moved. I tell myself that I'm building muscle as quickly as I'm losing inches. It feels like a lie.

Daily exercise is a challenge. I'm probably going to blog on here more bitching about stuff like walking in the damn snow. I will post some about the recipes that I try. There may be some weirdness too that I'm not posting on my other blogs.

Recreated story.

A long while back, I wrote a story wherein Loki showed up and punished a man for assaulting a woman. It got eaten back when Triond was having issues and then eventually gone for good. After some effort, I've managed to mostly recreate it with some minor changes. The ending is different but I figured if I was rewriting the thing I should make the ending a little more vague. I was planning a short series of stories of this sort wherein Loki shows up and does things in Midgard for reasons no one but him and the gods know.

Mr. Naalson

He walked through the office with an air of command. It wasn't conscious. As a deity in a human body, somethings just happened. Loptr Naalson was the man's name and he was here for a job interview. The plate glass window of the distorted his reflection and he seemed much taller. His red hair was cut short, almost short enough to resemble a military man's cut a few weeks out of boot camp. A tastefully trimmed beard and mustache hid a scar on his lip that never fully faded. His suit was black, his dress shirt was black, and his tie was black. The tie tack was an elaborate knot that he didn't expect anyone to recognize anymore. He chose it because it amused him to wear a rendition of his bindings for this expedition to Midgard. On his left wrist was a steel watch that seemed to have a dead battery. On his right was a medical id bracelet, also of steel. It was symbolic of what he couldn't escape on one level. At the same time, it was subtle enough that no one would recognize what they truly were. The irony of the id bracelet stating he was deathly allergic to mistletoe was as dark as the cause of his binding. But that was a tale for another day.

The secretary happened to be a handsome young man just out of his twenties. As they walked to the office where the interview was going to take place, Naalson thought that he'd be a pleasant tumble. The boredom of walking into the building and to the interview was enough that his attention was beginning to wander. The red haired man shook his head slightly and blinked his peridot green eyes as though waking out of a brief doze. They came to a door that was unlabled and standing partly open. He walked into the room and sat down across from the desk. He crossed his long legs and watched as the generically handsome secretary left the office. Naalson knew that the entire experience for the secretary was so mundane that it was goign to be forgotten. It was part of the entire plan and what he had put together. A little bit of forgetfulness because the phone system at the entrance was about to go down would definintely be enough to make him forget about Naalson.

A small spider was crawling on the wall above the desk. Naalson smiled. “Go, child, do your work for the good of all,” he said and made a small gesture of benediction. The spider crawled under the phone. A knock at the door announced the arrival of the interviewer. As the short man with balding grey hair walked in, Naalson restrained the urge to say something pithy about the obviously bad comb over. He was here with a specific job to do. The man in the cheap brown suit, scuffed shoes, and ugly tie was clearly annoyed when Naalson didn't stand up as per typical custom. The interviewer shut the door and walked around to sit down at the desk. He rifled through a small stack of papers.

“Mister Nelson,” he said and Naalson restrained the urge to grind his teeth, again. They always mispronounced his name. Instead he put on a blandly pleasantly smile. “Your credentials are excellent. Hires are only for a temporary basis at this time, however.” Naalson, steepeled his fingers before himself. “Your references include an employee in my department,” the interviewer continued in a dry tone, “Is it her that informed you of this position?”

“I learned of the position through a job placement agency that had the listing.” Naalson answered and the interviewer looked up from the paperwork. “Grimnir Temporary Solutions was the company,” he continued. The interviewer looked down at the paperwork before him in confusion. The position that Naalson had applied for was one that was only on the internal network within the company. His phone interview was so excellent that the pre-interview team pushed for an actual interview. Jonas was disturbed. He wanted to put his subordinate into the position, with a few personal conditions. It didn't make him feel any better about the situation that this subordinate was the first of a list of references.The silence drew out as he absentmindedly shuffled papers in a nervous habit.

“Mister Blackwell, I am not interested in wasting my time or yours today. The person I spoke to informed me that this interview was a formality. I was told that an offer would be included in the package you recieved prior to the interview. I was additionally informed that I would be working directly with you on the transitional management team,” Naalson said in a tone that was brisk and chill, “The time frame of my position is six months to a year, as was arranged by GTS. I expect that everything in your paperwork confirms this. So, my question for you is why are you not conducting the interview?”

Jonas Blackwell swallowed uncomfortably and looked down at the papers. To him they seemed gibberish. The font was unreadable, looking like incomplete stick figures in rows and collumns with a few numbers in with them. He began to sweat. “I see, Mr. Nelson,” he said, “that the time period is as you mentioned. Are you aware of the six week probationary period?” He lied. It wasn't a good lie. But it sounded good to him. Suddenly, he wanted to go back to his cubicle office. It was a snug hideyhole that let him obliquely spy on Margaret Smith all day. Today, she was wearing a very conservative black suit. As hard as she tried to hide her femininity behind that mannish suit, Jonas couldn't ignore it.

Briefly thinking of the object of his inter-office obsession calmed him and he looked through the papers again. Naalson stared at him with out moving. “There appears to be an error in the starting offer on this page,” Jonas said, trying to regain control over the situation, “The listing starts at fifty thousand dollars per term. This rate would start after the probationary period, where you begin at a standard twelve dollars and fifty cents per hour.” Thinking of the idea of Margaret forced to work close to him on a daily basis made him bold. He was sure he could make the position unappealing through enough lies. Jonas looked up from the paper before him, blinking a few times as the words in english began to take on the strange incomplete stick figures image again.

The slender, tall man sitting in the chair across from him leaned forward. “Margaret's one hell of a woman, isn't she?” Naalson said. Jonas blinked in surprise, coloring slightly. “Great legs and a real looker, if you know what I mean,” he continued, “I don't blame you for thinking those thoughts about her. I have from time to time.” Jonas set the papers down on the desk. Naalson reached up and pulled a cigarette out of his jacket pocket with his right hand. Jonas could nearly swear there wasn't one there earlier but yet now he had it in hand.

“There's not smoking permitted in the building,” Jonas spluttered in his shocked surprise as Naalson snapped his fingers on his left hand and lit the cigarette. Naalson nodded and put the cigarette to his lips and took a long drag off of it. “Mister Nelson, you must extinguish that immediately or leave the building.” Jonas said in his most authoratative voice. Naalson smiled around the cigarette.

He took it out of his mouth and exhaled. The sweet scent of clove smoke was in the air. “That's the first truth you have said to me all day,” Naalson said with a chuckle. He took another drag off of the cigarette. “We're going to have an honest conversation, man to man. About my friend Margaret.” Jonas pushed a button on the phone. Static sounded over the intercomm. He did it again. “My friend fixed your phone so that we wouldn't be interrupted. Margaret was most distressed last week when she mentioned what you had done.” Jonas paled.

“A man does not back a woman into a corner and try to force his hand under her skirt,” Naalson continued, his tone almost conversational, “Nor does a man try to isolate a woman and expose himself to her against her wishes. We can agree that this is not the behavior of a man, can we not, Jonas Blackwell?”

“Mister Nelson, I have no idea what incident you are talking about regarding Miss Smith but we can agree that this is not correct.”

“The name is Naalson, Jonas, Lopt Naalson,” the red haired man said leaning forward. Jonas couldn't figure out why the name Lopt Naalson made him so uncomfortable. He made a mental note to ask the guys at the occult club why the name seemed so ominious. The red haired man took a deep drag off of the cigarette, impossibly so. Enough so that what was originally a full cigarette was left as an ember at the end of the filter. He exhaled and the sickly sweet scent of clove washed over Jonas. “I was asked to come see you by the Hanged God,” he continued.

Jonas's stomach roiled. “My brother will be coming to see you soon enough. But, you and I are going to have a conversation first. No man lays a hand on a woman with out her consent lest he loses it. I'm sure you read something about that regarding my people. Wives were well within their rights to castrate their husbands if they assaulted them. And what did you do to Margaret?”

Frantically, Jonas attempted to connect the dots. The only hanged god he knew of was Odin. Then Jonas went pale. “Loki,” he gasped.

“My name is not the answer to the question, Jonas,” the god said, “What did you do to Margaret?” Jonas slapped the button that was supposed to connect him directly to security but there was only static. He stood up quickly, knocking over the chair. Jonas looked at the door. While not an athletic man, he scrambled over the desk and to the door. He threw it open. Loki stood up and calmly began to walk after the terrified man.

As Jonas Blackwell ran for his cubicle, Loki walked after him. Every few steps or so, Jonas looked behind himself with terror. As he walked, Loki appeared to grow larger to Jonas until he was at least eight feet tall, his head just a mere foot below the ceiling. “I didn't do anything,” Jonas said as he dove into his cubicle. He slapped the buttons on the phone to call security. As he held the phone to his hear, he heard static. Loki leaned on the top of the cubicle and looked over the edge at Jonas as he cowered like a rat in a cage.

“You're lying again,” he said in his conversational tone, as though talking about the weather, “You insult me with these pathetic lies to my face. Really, put some effort into it, Jonas.” Jonas stared up at him, moving to cower under his desk. “Not such a big man after all, eh, Jonas?” Loki said, pulling out another cigarette out of thin air and lighting it in that strange, mysterious way he did. “They can't see me. They only see you panicked and lying. But don't worry, I'll be gone soon enough,” Loki said.

Security came rushing with his supervisor. Margaret Smith could smell the vague suggestion of clove in the air, as though perhaps one of the security agents had a clove cigarette while on break. “Get this man out of here,” Jonas insisted, waving at where he saw Loki, “He's going to kill me. Keep him away from me.” Loki smiled as the others looked at each other in confusion.

“I'm telling you, this is between you and I. Soon, between you and my brother. They can't interrupt us,” Loki purred, “Confess what you did. You'll feel better for it. They say confession is good for the soul. Margaret isn't the only poor woman you've forced yourself on.”

“Lies! That's a lie! I never did that.” Jonas shrieked. Loki looked over and watched as the confusion and mild chaos over Jonas's seemingly irrational behavior spread. “Margaret lied anyways. She wanted it. She came to me!” Jonas spluttered angrily. A few people looked over at Margaret. Jonas came out from under his desk and gestured wildly at Margaret who was staring in horror. “That woman tried to seduce me, look at what she's wearing. She's been toying with me for months,” he continued. The supervisor put an arm around Margaret, who was becoming visibly distressed and lead her away. “All of them, they wanted it. They wanted me.”

The sound of a gurney being wheeled down the aisle between the cubicles with a trio of EMTs caught Loki's ear over the shocked muttering and attempts to keep people back in their cubicles. As the first of the EMTs came into space immediately before Jonas's cubicle office, Loki sent one last puff of cigarette smoke into the air. “Now you're Odin's, just like you wanted,” Loki said and then vanished. Jonas looked up at the EMT standing over him. Boarson was the name on the tag. Jonas shook his head and whimpered.

He fought the EMT and security as they tried to get him on the gurney. Eventually, he was strapped down as he screamed that he was going to die and that they had to save him. Jonas's coworkers stared as he was wheeled out. Boarson walked after the gurney with a clipboard. As he took down the pertinent information from important people, he nodded. He then tipped his blue hat in a gesture of genteel gratitude before walking for the ambulance. Somewhere a raven called.

Musical inspiration: Classical Malfunction by Pristine Stringz; Requiem - Dies Irea  from Karl Jenkins 

Stupid cat videos are my friends.

Dear Internet,

All 5 of you who read this blog, I have something momentous to share. Stupid cat videos are fantastic because my kids will sit fascinated by them long enough that I can attempt to get some writing done. It is still hard to write, especially fiction, but I'm getting a few lines done here and there. Who knows, maybe with the start of school, my mood dysfunction may improve too. In other news, I have been randomly craving peanut butter like nobody's business and I know I'm not pregnant. I almost think that this is a new potential migraine precursor? Did diabetes change my brain so that I don't crave sugar before a migraine or am I just craving peanut butter? I don't know. But my back says there's a shift coming in the weather soon so I'm honestly not sure.

I forget things. It sucks.

For example, LARP was tonight. I forgot. It sucks. I kinda wanted to go be social. On the other hand, I realized that I don't have the spoons for being social. So, now I am worried that my friends think that I've just dropped them from my life. I've a friend that moved recently who has invited me over to her new place. I can't bring myself to go there because I'm kinda terrified I'm going to get lost. It is literally two or three turns from here to there, including the one out of my driveway to get on the road. I'm afraid to go significant distances driving right now. I worry about what I will do if my blood sugar gets too low. I worry about what I'm going to do if I have a panic attack. And then there is the practical worries that go with driving at night.

I'm not doing too great. I know that there are some who are going to read this and get a chuckle out of it. To those souls specifically: FUCK YOU. I'm fighting a war in my head every day that has me struggling to function. I've been depressed now for a year. So, laugh it up while you can because it will come back on you at some point.

In the mean time, I need to go drink another bottle of water and contemplate how to get rid of spiders with out murdering them all.

Monday Menu 8/6/18

I have forgotten the link for the table generator. I also have misplaced my notebook with the menu in it. I just have my notes in my planner for dinners. It's been a bit hectic over here trying to get my stuff back in order. I realized I'm still not quite at 100% right now. I need to make a few phone calls to see what can be done to resolve that. Until then, I am trying to get myself ready for the start of the school year. One month. I think I can make it that far with out losing what's left of my sanity.

Monday dinner: Hamburgers and carrot salad

Tuesday dinner: Tacos, refried beans, and mexican rice (and a taco salad for me)

Wednesday dinner: Spaghetti & meatballs (and zucchini noodles with sauce for me)

Thursday dinner: General Tso chicken with rice (riced cauliflower for me,  ez mac for the kids)

Friday dinner: Chicken jalfrezi with peanut noodles (more veggie noodles for me) and naan

Saturday dinner: roast chicken with pasta salad.

Deb's Gazpacho bastardization

I'm experimenting with a gazpacho recipe that I found in a diabetic cookbook. Here's the most recent incarnation. Gods bless the soul who came up with the concept of a food processor.

Ingredients:

3 medium tomatoes
1/4 med sweet onion
1 small cucumber
1 clove garlic
1/2 green pepper
1 dill pickle spear
1 tbsp Worcester sauce

Step One: In your food processor, process all the vegetables until smooth.

Step Two: Add worcester sauce and mix until blended.

Step Three: Chill at least 15 minutes.

Serves 4

Approximately 8 carbs per serving.

Menu for the Week of 7/29/2018

Post is up a day late. Sorry about that. Yesterday got super busy when I didn't expect it. In addition to what you see here, I am also working on a big pot of chili to go in Hubby's lunches. I'm also looking at making up some paleo bread for breakfast stuff for me. Because I have to admit, it was kinda tasty. If the weather doesn't get too hot, I may actually get some baking done.

Date	Breakfast	Lunch	Dinner
Sun	scrambled eggs	sandwiches / leftovers	pizza
Mon	kids: donuts me: scrambled egg, sausage, muffin coffee	Kids: sandwiches & chips Hubby: chili leftovers & Me: leftovers	hamburgers coleslaw
Tues	kids: donut me: breakfast bar & coffee	Kids: sandwiches & chips Hubby: sandwich, chips cookies, cheese Me: salad	chicken fajitas refried beans riced cauliflower
Wed	kids: cereal & fruit me: blueberry-egg bake, chia pudding & coffee	Kids: sandwiches & chips Hubby: chili & 'rice' Me: taco salad	macaroni salad / zucchini salad & teriyaki meatballs brownies
Thurs	kids: waffles me: zucchini hash w/ eggs & toast & coffee	Kids: sandwiches & chips Hubby: leftovers Me: leftovers	gen. tso chicken cauliflower rice veggie sticks & dip
Fri	kids: cereal me: mason jar omlette & toast & coffee	Kids: sandwiches & chips Hubby: sandwiches & chips Me: leftovers	pork korma cauliflower rice naan kids: ez mac
Sat	eggs, bacon & fruit	leftovers / sandwiches	roast chicken & leftovers

Things are getting interesting.

The kids are doing summer school again this year. I have had them telling me more facts about recycling and local wildlife I than I ever wanted to know. Billy's birthday was today and he got two presents he had been really hoping for. I'm going to probably have a struggle to get him not to take them with him to school tomorrow. The argument that rain will not be good for the toys may help. Who knows. I can't believe that Snuggle Bug is nine now. Where did the time go?

His birthday dinner was pizza because it is is his favorite. I have this thing I do that I make the person whose birthday it is their favorite thing for dinner and try to get them their favorite cake. Didn't work so well for hubby's birthday because the cake recipe just kept coming out wrong. Today, I picked something up at the store just because I was fed up with cooking. But, operation birthday was a big success. Operation birthday number two next month will be equally as much of a success, I think.

I have hit the point in my novel writing for this month that I am a the required word count to validate between two projects. At the same time, I am at a mid point on the larger project and finished on the smaller one. I feel like I have no idea what I'm talking about as I am writing. This seems to be the time when I do my best work. It is indescribably creepy. But, I have found my way through the block that ate up a good portion of my time.

I am starting to feel a bit better after a roller coaster ride of a month. Modern medicine is a wonderful thing and I am deeply grateful that I have access to these medications. I'm trying to remember that it is ok to be like this and that this is normal. It's kinda rough though. The diabetes thing has a steep learning curve. And it seems that getting stuff like a cold or being stressed out makes your blood sugar go wonky. My blood sugar is beginning to get closer to the normal range on a regular basis.

So, progress is happening. And weirdness. In January, I was wearing a size 9 shoe. I am now down to a size 7 shoe. This is confusing me. The scale hasn't moved a whole lot but I started out in January wearing size 22 women's and I'm now down to a size 16, which is starting to get a little big on me. I have been doing a lot of walking and trying to strictly keep within the diet guidelines I've been given. I'm hungry most of the time, but I'm getting to where I can ignore some of it again. As long as I eat according to schedule, I don't have too many problems. If my schedule gets knocked out of wack, however, the whole day gets thrown off and my mood and everything gets weird.

Those of you who have known me for a long time would know that me and schedules and organization wasn't really a thing when I was younger. I didn't resist schedules, I just didn't really use them. Now I am super organized with a bullet journal for my writing, a mental health/health log, a day planner, and an office in a bag (for lack of a better description). I'd be using digital versions of tracking everything but I don't trust Windows not to eat my information. I'm not good with spreadsheets. Still, me from ten years ago wouldn't recognize me today.

Monday Menu

My life is beginning to get back to normal thanks to a number of things. As evidence of this, I have a menu for this week. :)

Date	Breakfast	Lunch	Dinner
Sun	scrambled eggs	sandwiches / leftovers	pizza
Mon	kids: cereal & fruit me: scrambled egg, sausage, chia pudding coffee	Kids: sandwiches & chips Hubby: pizza leftovers & pasta salad Me: leftovers	hamburgers carrot salad
Tues	kids: waffles me: blueberries & yogurt w/ hard boiled egg & coffee	Kids: sandwiches & chips Hubby: sandwich, chips hard boiled egg, cheese Me: soup & salad	ground turkey tacos refried beans salsa & guacamole
Wed	kids: cereal & fruit me: blueberry-egg bake, chia pudding & coffee	Kids: walking nachos Hubby: burrito bowl Me: taco salad	pulled pork apple slaw buns brownies
Thurs	kids: waffles me: zucchini hash w/ eggs & toast & coffee	Kids: ez mac Hubby: leftovers Me: cobb salad	sloppy joes cauliflower rice veggie sticks & dip
Fri	kids: cereal me: mason jar omlette & toast & coffee	Kids: sandwiches & chips Hubby: sandwiches & chips Me: leftovers	chicken korma cauliflower rice naan kids: ez mac
Sat	eggs, bacon & fruit	leftovers / sandwiches	spaghetti & meatballs

Untitled.

I have been struggling. My lack of writing across all of my blogs and conspicuous silence on social media may make that evident. I am still depressed. I have my ok days and my bad days, but the depression is still there. My symptoms are slowly getting worse, but I am confident that I can make it one more week before I see my psychiatrist.

I am aghast and despondent over national events unfolding. I am especially pained by the behavior of this administration and its agents regarding immigration. I dearly wish to help the people who are being harmed but I see no means for me to do so and my own issues bind my hands yet more than I can put into words. This is true on so very many fronts.

People who are dear to me are struggling mightily in their own lives. I wish to help them but I can not take concrete action because I haven't the ability, means, or the slightest idea how. I can not help but wonder what will become of us. I genuinely fear for the future.

Run on the Water

I watched as they raised their hands to their face. It could not stifle the agonized scream of horror and grief but it sheltered their eyes from the unfolding events. As ash sifted down around us, I could hear others giving similar cries. I turned my face towards the east. The journey called out to me. As I began to take my first steps, I felt the weight of the shield upon my left arm. I set the helm upon my head, ignoring how the shield made movement awkward in doing so.

The baldric sang its song as I walked, a soft jangling like that of a woman's ring of keys held in her right hand ready for a fight. A person stepped in my path and I continued forward. Sensing death attendant upon me, they fled my shadow's passage. The sun was moving lower into the west behind me as I continued on my road. The screaming and weeping of the civilians no longer filled the air around me but it echoed in my ears. Hidden within the folds of my cloak was a parchment inscribed with holy words. They were supposed to be my guide through the dark land before me. The cries of my country illuminated the shadows the grew deeper around me more than the scroll I carried.

Night rose up like startled birds when I reached the ocean. No bark awaited me there. I stooped and fixed the lacing of my sandals and pulled my cloak tighter about me as fog rose. One against untold numbers was terrible odds. No one said that I had to go. No holy person told me that I was chosen. They simply gave me a scroll to bear to the Queen. When I came to the village of my birth and I found it burning, I knew that my road was far longer and different from the royal road that wound its way to the north.

I stood at the ocean's edge and waited for the first moon to rise. The great Mother would be full as would be her Children. If the horologists calculations were correct, tonight would have all three rise in order of size. If the scroll was correct, a path upon the waters would be revealed with their rising. So, I waited. The first shimmer of light broke the horizon and sparkled over the tops of the waves. I was unsure if there were stones in the water that would be revealed or if some wonder was to unfold. I stood at the shore as the tide rose higher and the waters moved towards my feet.

The Mother had cleared the horizon and the sea turned smooth as glass. The air turned curiously still and my heart hammered. Something was about to happen, my body screamed at me. I couldn't pull my eyes away from the ocean and the light shimmering on it. As the Son rose and the Daughter peeked over the horizon, my feet moved of their own will. My foot settled upon a beam of light and the water beneath my foot was firm. I took another step and found it to be the same. I began to run, my shield slapping against my back in its harness.

My gaze remained focused upon the moon and I felt as though I was rising into the air as I ran. I began to feel chilled despite my great effort. Knowing that countless lives depended upon me, I continued running. I fell into the rhythm that carried me from the temple of the oracle to my village and time blurred. In the darkness of night, I felt like I was running for eternity upon some strange narrow bridge. I stumbled when my feet were upon land again. I looked around in amazement. I stood upon some foreign shore where green trees swayed in a warm breeze. The sky was growing light.

A man walked forward from a thicket of poplar trees. He raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Greetings and well met, fair traveler,” he said in a thickly accented voice that sounded like gravel tumbling from a barrel. His broad brimmed hat fell over his right eye and shaded his face from the gloaming's light. His cloak was as gray as the clouds scudding overhead and yet as pale as the sea bird's feathers. “You have come from a distant world of my lost children,” he said as he motioned for me to follow him, “Their dreams and hopes lay in you and what you carry.” I walked after him noting he seemed to be an older man though he moved as though he was in the prime of life. I wondered for a moment if the was truly the god of my ancestors' ancestors. Old stories spoke of the wandering god of the famous spear and storm voice. “I shall bring you to my storyteller. She shall reveal what you must tell your queen.”

We walked together to a hut. It looked as though trees had been woven together to make a weather tight building twice as tall as the man at my side and just as wide. A leather flap was pegged down across the entrance. The old man rapped on the hardened leather three times. A shuffling on the other side happened and then the flap was lifted. A ruddy light like firelight came from within. “Go in, speak with the seer and the truth speaker. They've been waiting for you.” I ducked my head and stepped into the hut. As I did so, the parchment tumbled from the folds of my cloak and fluttered to the ground. I didn't need it anymore. Daylight had come and insight awaited me.

Converting recipes from metric not so much fun.

In my quest to find a bread recipe that I can actually eat despite my diabetes being basically out of control, I've been looking at recipes from sources outside of the USA. Everybody else does not use 'standard' and I am bad at math. Thankfully, Google has reference material and a handy converter function. Still, going from grams to tablespoons is super annoying. I find myself missing the days where I could measure everything in metric because I was in the lab and all the equipment was set up for that.

I am currently trying out this recipe for paleo bread. I honestly have no idea how this is going to come out. I'm hoping it will be at least passable fare. I'm not expecting it to be just like regular bread because it's basically a mass of nuts baked and held together with eggs. I expect it to have a strong egg flavor. The nuts I used were not what was specified in the recipe. I didn't have pumpkin seeds.

So, basically, I used three cups of mixed nuts with a handful of sunflower seeds thrown in. I briefly thought about throwing some dried cranberries in there but I remembered that would raise the carbohydrates. But, if this comes out reasonably well, I will probably be adding this protein heavy thing to part of my breakfast. My goal is to get to where I am going through the day on only three meals. Right now, it is three meals with two small snacks.

I recognize that protein heavy and carb light meals are helping my situation. So, I'm working on finding a way to continue to do that and make it easier to put meals together. This is why I am doing things like learning to make my own riced cauliflower (I will figure out how Green Giant does the garlic flavor for theirs! I haven't been able to duplicate it yet.) and trying out twists on familiar recipes such as zucchini hash. I am getting bored with eggs and bacon for breakfast every day.

This reminds me, since the weather is still going to be somewhat cool tomorrow, I will be cooking up a package of bacon so that I have bacon to use in cooking for the rest of the week. I keep putting it off, but I really have to learn how to cook bacon properly. It's become a breakfast staple and it is going to be less expensive and healthier to cook it myself than to buy it precooked. I'm not feeling brave enough to try out baking it in the oven right now. One cooking experiment at a time, thank you very much.

Slams the REBOOT button on today.

This weather is bananas. High heat and humidity does not make me happy. And with all the pollen in the air my fate was to have an asthma attack this morning as I put the kids on the bus. Now it is + 75 degrees in here with windows shut and curtains drawn. It is sweltering in here and I'm trying to summon up the energy to get some dishes done.

Yesterday wasn't quite as bad but I was busy running errands all day. Still, I managed to finish the alpaca yarn scarf that I was knitting. This was fiber that I spun on my Navajo spindle and put aside for months unsure what to do with it. Well, let's call it a year, if we're being more accurate time-wise. It is grey and a very chunky heavy weight yarn. It will make for a very warm scarf when the weather gets cold again.

All this humidity has put spinning on hold until we get the air conditioner running. I have been debating spinning silk but my hands are rather dry. The irony of dry skin problems while you are breathing soup is almost as painful as the breathing process right now. I have decided to start finishing up projects that I had sitting around waiting to be worked on. This lead to my working on the scarf I started back in February (the alpaca one). I finished the shawl I had started last month. It was difficult going at first because I couldn't really see what I was doing. I'm debating if I'm going to add any sort of fringe or anything on the narrow ends of it or not.

I also finished up last week the huge granny square scrap afghan I was making for Beloved's birthday present. I made some good progress on the shawl I am calling amythest. It is in shades of purple going to white. It is a more shaped shawl than what I have made in the past. It is a heptagon (7 sided shape) with a split on one of the corners.Once I had it large enough to sit comfortably on my shoulders, I have begun working in straight rows to make it hang straight down from that point. I'm not going to make it any larger in diameter. This is not going to be a very large shawl. Probably more of a shawlette that reaches to my elbows.

I have a tablecloth that I'm crocheting out of the teal thread I won in the silent auction at spinning guild last January. That is light enough that I can work on it despite the heat. It is, however, rather tedious. I am still on the boring part of the pattern, though. I'll probably be working on that a bit later today when it is too hot to do much of anything at all. Right now, I am going to go wash some dishes, make some gazpacho, and set up some tea to steep in the sunshine on the back deck. Sitting in front of the fan had something of a restorative effect, I suppose.

Monday Menu

I am having an odd day. Mood started out pretty awful. Then I was angry at past issues. So I burned my anger out doing things like scrubbing the tub and washing a ton of dishes. I'm still angry but it is not like it was earlier where I was contemplating going and getting into a fight with someone. Now, I'm calm and my anger is much calmer. Like being angry that I dropped a stitch when I was knitting something. My brain is weird. Hopefully this means that my mood is going to be better now.

Date	Breakfast	Lunch	Dinner
Sun	scrambled eggs	sandwiches / leftovers	pizza
Mon	kids: cereal & fruit me: scrambled egg, sausage, avacado pudding, coffee	Kids: school Hubby: pizza leftovers & pasta salad Me: leftovers	hamburgers carrot salad
Tues	kids: waffles me: avacado pudding boiled egg, toast & butter coffee	Kids: school Hubby: sandwich, chips hard boiled egg, cheese Me: soup & salad	ground turkey tacos refried beans salsa & guacamole
Wed	kids: cereal & fruit me: blueberry-egg bake, avacado pudding & butter coffee	Kids: school Hubby: burrito bowl Me: taco salad	homemade pizza & salad
Thurs	kids: waffles me: zucchini hash w/ eggs & butter coffee	Kids: school Hubby: leftovers Me: cobb salad	sloppy joes cauliflower rice veggie sticks & dip
Fri	kids: cereal me: mason jar omlette & avacado pudding & butter coffee	Kids: school Hubby: sandwiches & chips Me: leftovers	chicken korma cauliflower rice naan kids: ez mac
Sat	eggs, bacon & fruit	leftovers / sandwiches	spaghetti & meatballs

Friday Fiction: The Time Machine Is Broken

I wound the key on the mechanism. The quaint sounds of a music box played with the whirring of gears and uncoiling of springs as counterpoint to it. Then the music skipped and began to play again from the beginning as the key twisted backwards. Father did not tell me what to do if this happened. I watched with some curiosity as the music than began to play backwards. The music skipped and the mechanism whirred somewhat louder than before.

I tapped upon the brass back plate wherein the key fitted. Something within rattled. The key began to turn in the proper direction but the music was silent. And then I looked up and saw something most curiously disturbing. Everyone in the station around me had stopped moving. A child hung in midair suspended by possibly some gossamer thread I could not see but of incredible strength. I moved to get up and discovered that my body did not obey my will. I cast my gaze down to my right hand resting beside the device.

It felt as though an incredible weight was upon me, thrusting my hand down into the very wood of the counter it sat upon. Though my limbs could not obey me, my eyes could. I looked over at the device. The key turned slower as that crushing weight became unbearable. My vision began to blur and become spotted. Desperately, I tried to lift my hand to wind the key back to its proper position.

If it were possible, I believe that sweat would have been profuse upon my brow. Instead, everything became cool and colors grew dim. Oh, Father, what should I do? As the key's turning came to a stop, silence and a terrible cold overcame the whole of reality. All was dark. I had no voice with which to cry out for help. I had no body to move. Only one thing remained, my awareness and memories. But even the memories are faded.

Fiber fluff: Working on Presents.

I have been working on presents for Beloved's birthday next week. I finished the box and handed it to him night before last. Today, I just finished the scrap granny square afghan for him to use when he decides to nap on the couch in cool weather. The thing needs a good wash but it is finally done.

I just have two more things to make and/or acquire and I'll be finished. I figure four presents over the week leading up to his birthday means it is no big deal if I get the exact date wrong, again.

I am making slow but steady progress combing fiber and spinning it. M.K. sent me a wonderful rainbow of blue faced leicester locks that I have been using my mother in law's viking style combs to process it. I'm almost finished with the white. Next is going to be the bright sunshine yellow. The grey alpaca fiber that I was going to spin on my navajo spindle is going to wait for fall. That stuff felts so easily, I'm going to stick with my current project. That is a silk-merino blend in all the colors of storm clouds. I'm spinning it on my small turkish spindle. I haven't decided how I'm going to be plying it. I still have the rest of the braid to spin into singles before I have to worry about plying though.

I'm waaay behind on the sheep study stuff. I'm going to try to wash fiber this weekend if the weather isn't too bad. My hope is I can wash it and then dry it in lingere bags out in the sun. Keep each bag labeled and I should be able to tell which sample is which. I think last breed we got samples from was Hog Island. I have at least six samples to wash and then comb or card depending on the staple length.

I have decided that I'm going to make notecards with the details that I learn in the spinning process for the different samples. On the notecard will be a sample of the cleaned fleece showing staple length (which will also be noted). Then there will be a tiny sample of singles and a plied yarn made from each sample. Notation will include the weight of the spindle it was spun on, wraps per inch, and total yardage I got out of the sample. I'm thinking that the final skeins of each sample will be knitted together into a shawl. Just a basic triangular shawl.