Exhausted but upright anyways.

 I am working with a sleep clinic that posts their results in a file that I and my care team can read together. I am not expert on sleep apnea but I suspect that the doctor who runs the clinic is going to have some things to say that I don't want to hear. Like that I have some form of sleep apnea and that one night of the two night test, I did stop breathing. I'm trying to steel myself for this potential but it is as vague and intangible as the air itself. I can not grasp a handful of the wind and put it in my chest.

Looking at the reports surrounding the pneumonia stuff, I really hope that this damn business starts to clear up. Otherwise, I might have a real problem on my hands. I am frustrated and tired. I can't sleep well. I can't breathe well. I am having difficulty coughing up the gunk in my chest because I can't breathe well. I don't know what the medical solution is but around the end of next month I get another chest x-ray and find out if my general practitioner sees that nothing's changed. 

If there is scarring in my lungs I don't have any idea where it could have come from. I was born a preemie and I had breathing difficulties when I was itty-bitty. I had asthma but my lovely parents couldn't be bothered to make sure it got treated and regularly had me doing things that triggered what I now know to be asthma attacks. Bonus points here, because they smoked like chimneys and the white walls of their house were a tacky yellow by the time I was old enough to tell colors. 

Yes, I argued with my parents that the walls were not white like the paper in my books. That went over like a lead balloon. It wasn't too long after that I was getting exposed to asthma triggers and being left gasping for breath as my parents told me to toughen up as I hurt while breathing.

The sleep thing is awful. I have nightmares every night of something horrible. Either it's a flashback thrown into a blender with Salvadore Dali's art style or classic staircase wit where I have screaming arguments with my parents for accusing me of being a drug addict. They started that at ten. I didn't have access to drugs. We lived in the middle of nowhere and the closest thing to a drug dealer in our neighborhood was dairy cows. Because we all know the intoxicating effects of whole milk, right? 

This is not going as planned.

 My chest x-ray showed haziness in my left lower lung. This is no difference from the last one, except for the region is a bit bigger now. I woke up this morning with cold symptoms and a very sore throat. So, at my appointment to discuss the x-ray, my doctor and I agreed that a covid test to rule it out as a complication was a wise decision. If I have covid again, I am going to be highly irritated. Last time, I was 3 weeks flat on my back, coughing and hacking. I did ask if the haziness the x-ray showed could possibly be scarring in my lungs. The doctor shrugged and said it was possible but given my other symptoms, pneumonia was more likely.

For all these people saying the covid tests administered by doctor offices are awful, it wasn't a terrible experience for me. Irritating, yes, but nothing like when I had my sinuses scoped about twenty years ago. For one thing, it was a lot faster. Secondly, the doctor wasn't wiggling the thing around in my nose. On the whole, the 'real' covid test wasn't any worse than the at home one. Heck, it was kinda easier because I didn't have to do anything but sit there and don't sneeze.

I have my diabetes follow up appointment with the doctor in a month. He wants me to get another chest x-ray a few days before hand to see if the antibiotics that have been prescribed this time will clear up that haziness in the last two exams. I hope it will. This whole time, I've been tired and feeling like garbage with my chest aching a lot. 

When they weighed me at the beginning of the visit, I saw that I gained about three pounds. Now, I know the weather's getting colder but I wasn't wearing my boots and heavy weather gear. This has been stress eating due to a number of things going on right now. I'm trying to stop doing it but it's proving really hard. I'm trying to get back to food logging and that is really hard. Which is stupid because all it is, really, is writing down a quick note when I eat. But between the stress eating and the food logging stuff, I am finding myself struggling with the urge to cut down how much I eat in a big way.

I don't really know how to describe my relationship with food beyond saying it's very complicated and hurtful. Between the diabetes and my history of anorexia (instilled in me by my insane mom who insisted whenever she caught me eating as a child that I was eating too much and my brothers were going to starve because of me, I was 5 when I started skipping meals) my emotional response is mixed. I love to cook for people. But that's been dialed way back by anxiety that I can't eat what is 'normal' food. It's a mess, folks.

I've got the next month to try to get my eating habits back to what they were last summer and lose those three pounds. Three pounds doesn't sound like a big deal, but it kinda is because when my weight goes up so does my A1C numbers. I am scared right now. I hate being sick and I hate how it reminds me of being sick as a kid where things were ugly. 

I now have a working computer, huzzah!

 Around the time of my last post (no joke), my computer died. I went to my old Win 8 box and discovered it was well and truly dead. And filled with  moth larvae corpses. It wasn't pretty. So, I looked around and found a place that fixes computers and pretty much all tech equipment. (They also have a good sense of humor.) 

Approximately the same time as I got my computers into the tech shop, I got aspirational pneumonia. I have been having sleep problems for over a year now. I woke up one night choking on phlegm, acid reflux, and saliva. To say the least it was unpleasant. I coughed and hacked for an hour. Somewhere in that time period, I inhaled the mixture. Next day, I called the doctor at one of the other offices for the family practice we go to because it was the day that the office of our doctor was closed. I spoked with the doctor at the other office and explained the situation. They put me on an antibiotic and told me to get a chest x-ray. 

This x-ray showed a couple of spots of pneumonia in my chest on the lower left lobe of my lungs. I was put on a stronger antibiotic and told to follow up with my primary care doctor. So, I go and do that. And the unexpected happens. 

He asks me if I have a fever and goes to check me with a temporal thermometer. I answer that I don't and my normal body temperature is 96.8, roughly two degrees lower than normal. Well, the doctor was shocked when I said that. He said that everyone's core temperature is 98.6 in a most offended tone and insisted that my thermometer is calibrated wrong. I was so surprised by his response that I didn't say that every thermometer ever used on me read that when I was healthy since I was a small child and that I believed the lack of subcutaneous fat (that's the one that insulates your body just under your skin) was the reason why. Normally, our interactions are much calmer and generally genial and pleasant, no matter how rotten I feel.

Still, after this moment of awkwardness, we got back on topic and he prescribed a stronger antibiotic and told me to get a second x-ray in two weeks. That was last Saturday and the results are not in the computer system yet for me to view. I am hopeful that Dr. E. has them and can tell me if the pneumonia is getting better or worse. I feel awful. Initially, I didn't feel that bad. Now I am at the point where my left side hurts. All through this I had no urge to cough (which I suspect is a very bad thing) and my peak flow meter for my lungs is in the middle of my yellow range, tending lower as time goes on. I hate albuterol but I use it when I feel wheezy and like I can't breathe.

I got my computers back last week. The old Win 8 machine is now a Win 10 box because there was no way to salvage it and I was lucky that it still worked. I don't entirely know what I'm going to do with two computers. I'm considering dedicating the older computer to just messing around and doing stuff like playing games. This one, however, I am going to focus on using it for work like stuff. Fortunately, I backed everything up on these machines before they went kaput on me.

On the health front, I'm still dealing with pneumonia. I have a follow up appointment with Dr. E. tomorrow to talk about the chest x-ray. Last week, I did a sleep study and I'll be talking to Dr. M. about the results in a month. Apparently that was the earliest that they could book me to see the sleep doctor. There are other doctors on his team that he has me booked to see, like a sleep psychologist to discuss my nightmare problem. And I still have to get my blood work done to see how I am doing with my diabetes. So, I am a little nervous about my health. My last test had an A1C of 7.5 which isn't gods awful but it's not good. It was a steep jump from where I was at before (6.1). 

I'm trying to control my eating habits but it's really hard. I've also been somewhat depressed about things for various reasons and self soothing by way of food. Sounds weird that a former anorexic will do that, but there you go. I have been getting a little more exercise and then I got the damn pneumonia which makes doing more than crossing the room at a brisk stride tiring. As this wears on, I just feel worse and have no urge to cough. It's scary.

No Menu, but there is more malarky

 Cuddle Bear did not only claim the jacket for himself, he asked for a fedora to go with it. I was searching all over for the compass he asked for as a birthday present and couldn't find one. I'm going to keep looking. But between the had, the sunglasses and the rest of his look, I was half expecting him to quote Blues Brothers (We're on a mission from God.) or ask me when I am going to be giving my weekly protection payment to the Don. 

His small birthday party was yesterday. We had pizza and cupcakes. Well, the guys had pizza and cupcakes. I had a salad. It was another 'oh damn diabetes" moment. Let me tell you, those chocolate cupcakes looked delicious. We didn't have any guests over because we weren't sure how to get a hold of his friends.

Originally the plan was to have the party at his grandparent's house, but they are feeling under the weather. Instead of delaying the party, they told us to go ahead and hold it at home. They'll let us know when things are favorable for visiting.

Snuggle Bug has been all about his skateboard where as Cuddle Bear is a bit gun-shy about the whole affair. Balancing on it while standing is proving very challenging for both the guys. Snuggle Bug figured out how to sit on it and make it move with a stick. Not only that, he figured out how to use the stick as a brake. It was interesting and amusing to watch. 

As soon as Cuddle Bear got the hat to go with his jacket and sunglasses look, we started talking about suits for formal occasions. I don't know if he wants to go to homecoming. He isn't into school spirit stuff. But he does want to go to prom when it comes up. We talked about it and I convinced him that a tux for prom wasn't necessary. At some point, we're going to find him a pinstriped suit like his hat and a nice tie. This way he's got himself a suit he can wear to special occasions. And that he can wear on a job interview. Plan it a size big and it'll last him a while. Of course, I could see Beloved insisting he wear one of his wacky, garish ties in his collection to prom. We'll burn that bridge when we get to it.

I can't believe the kids are 16 and 14. Time flies, folks.

Needlework!

 

Above are my latest embroidery projects. The fan with the butterflies that was started by my late Grandmother K. is finished and framed. I altered the pattern some because the extra bits they wanted done would have hidden the stitch definition. The top right is my project of the day with a favorite quote on it. I put up a vote for how the flowers should look. The internet answered lavender petals and blue centers. The project on the left is stalled because black 12 point Aida cloth is a real headache to work on. It is a sampler. I'm going to finish it this year. I am going to continue the black and white theme. All the stitches on there are crossed stitches. If I can manage it, I'll only be using crossed stitches for this project. It looks cool, but it's painful to work on.

How do you get rid of moths?

 Hi, folks!

My week has been challenging and just kinda crappy. I'm not going to go on about it. It's enough to say that hormones are not fun for teenagers or middle aged women. I'd say next lifetime, I'm going to be masc but with my luck I would incarnate as a masculine seahorse or something similar. Anyways, I've got a moth in the apartment. It's been fluttering about and driving all of us mad. Once the kids realized that it would eat my spinning fiber, they have been trying to catch it. One wants to squish it (Cuddle Bear) and one wants to release it outside (Snuggle Bug). Their debates on how to catch it and what to do with it have been entertaining because of how voraciously they argue their points.

They both like 'cute' things, but they argue weather or not the cuteness factor is enough to let the moth live. At one point a suggestion was put forth to keep the moth as a pet and feed it wee bits of fiber. I put the kybash on that idea. One moth leads to forty-two in quick order. I'm just hoping it gets caught in a spider web and the spider handles it all. I tried to catch it this morning and I missed the thing by a quarter of an inch. So, I've left it to the spiders' domain.

The ironic thing about this, in a stupid way, is I am wearing my socks with butterflies on them. Butterflies the more colorful and socially acceptable cousins of the moth. I just don't want it eating my plants or my fiber. I can't throw mothballs at it and make it go away. But I have all my wool and other fiber packed up except for my current project. And it has already taken a few nibbles at that. Ugh.

My kid now owns the jacket.

 I bought this awesome jacket at the thrift store. It was worn in just the right ways. I had fallen in love with it's asymmetrical look. When I tried it on at home it was a bit tight in the shoulders, but I could work with that. I was going to punk it out. Then I discovered that it didn't agree with my waistline. On a whim, I handed it to Cuddle Bear to try on. By Jove, that boy looked amazing in it. So, now he owns my jacket.

Cuddle Bear looking serious.
Super Serious.

It has been an eventful few days.

 Last Saturday was Snuggle Bug's 14th birthday. His class at school made a boat shaped like a manatee with googly eyes because of how the painted beach balls bounced on the waves. At first, the Regatta was scheduled for Saturday. We went over to the park early and then I got a text message that it was postponed to Sunday on account of incoming inclement weather. So, the kids got to play at the park for a bit and then we went home.

They got their skateboards. It was early for Cuddle Bear to get that gift but we wanted him to have time to play around with it. He got frustrated with trying to balance on the thing and said 'Nope, I can't do it.' before walking into the house and putting it away. His brother, on the other hand, figured out how to use it sitting down and crouching on it. Beloved has a feeling that where Cuddle Bear taught Snuggle Bug how to use his bike, Snuggle Bug may be teaching Cuddle Bear how to use his skateboard.

It has been a few days and Cuddle Bear's skateboard remains where he put it. Who knows what will come of this. Neither Beloved or I know how to use a skateboard but we thought the principle of it was simple enough that both of the boys would pick it up pretty fast. *shrugs* You can never guess what's going to happen around here.

Last Sunday was the Regatta. Snuggle Bug actually got on board of the 'Majestic Manatee' and was the unofficial captain. He sat in the middle of their googly eyed boat as others rowed. Last year, there was some boats that sank. It was a close thing with the Manatee a few moments. But they stayed upright in the water and made it back to the dock. They won an award for the slowest trip around the course, because none of the boats sank, not even the recycled cardboard boat. (The recycled cardboard boat turned out to be the fastest. It started coming apart when it was taken out of the water.) The award for most spectacular sinking got repurposed for their award. They also won family favorite for design. I am pretty sure it was the googly eyes that did it.

While Snuggle Bug was on his ship, Cuddle Bear started jogging laps around the park. By the end of Snuggle Bug's course around the buoys that marked the race perimeter, Cuddle Bear was warm and looking for a drink. So, I bought the boys some refreshments and let them have their run of the park for a little while before we went home. Because our plans for an actual party for Snuggle Bug's birthday fell through, we just casually celebrated through out the day. He got his gifts and he was delighted to have another bit of Poppy Playtime merchandise. (This kid is collecting merchandise from his favorite two horror games and rewriting the backstory of the characters. It's been interesting.)

Dinner was pizza from our local delivery place. For some reason my typical order of a salad with extra meat got an excited response from one of the staff. Apparently they thought this was really cool. *shrugs* I don't understand other people. Snuggle Bug had ice cream for dessert. We bought Cuddle Bear a brownie because he doesn't like hard ice cream. Turns out that they changed their brownie recipe and drowned it in chocolate sauce. Cuddle Bear gave it a try and told me that the chocolate sauce was a weird feeling in his mouth and the brownie soaked with chocolate sauce felt all wrong. He said the taste was ok, but he couldn't stand the textures. Such is life with people with food sensitivities.

Beloved was kind enough to eat the evidence later. I felt a bit off through the weekend and then Monday this bug hit me like a hammer. I was feeling so rotten in such an odd way, I tested myself for Covid. The test was negative, thankfully. Beloved suggested that I might have picked up a stomach bug from him because he hadn't been feeling too great over the last several days. I slept through most of the day and went to bed exhausted. For a little bit, it looked like I only had Gas-X to handle my stomach symptoms.

This morning, I still felt off but I had errands to do. Thus I called the pharmacist to ask if good ol' Pepto was going to conflict with my laundry list of medications. I was relieved to hear that it wouldn't. So when I picked up the various things we needed at the store and our prescriptions, I got a box of tablets. My first dose and I felt so much better. I had forgotten how effective it is at settling upset stomachs. For the last four years, I thought I couldn't take it. So, I suffered through various stomach bugs for no reason but my ignorance.

I am now working with a sleep specialist to figure out why in hell I can't get to sleep and stay asleep for the last two years. They are suggesting a preliminary possibility of sleep apnea and a need to have behavioral therapy to fix my sleep habits. In September, I have the in-home sleep study. In October, I have the follow up to discuss my results. And in February of next year, I see their sleep psychologist for an initial intake appointment. 

I kinda feel like I've bit off more than I can chew. But, if I can get back to getting a decent night's sleep, that'd be wonderful.

No menu, just malarky.

 Hey folks!

I'd have made a menu yesterday and posted it today but ... well, the kids happened. They've been extra silly over the last several days and I'm having a hard time keeping up with it. Blanket fort shenanigans, jump scares around corners, making monster noises at each other, and the occasional bickering has my head spinning. I thought that this kinda stuff was stuff they grew out of. Apparently if they get sufficiently bored, my boys will start up with this. I must admit, it was funny to see Cuddle Bear in the blanket fort with most of his body sticking out because he didn't fit. I snapped a picture of it and sent it to Beloved. He cracked up.

When they started to get bored with surprising each other by randomly poking their hands out, Cuddle Bear grabbed his big bag of clean blankets to make his own blanket fort in his bed. If only I could get them to pick up the laundry. Maybe later, after they get some of this goofiness out of their system.

I don't have a menu, but summer feels like it's turning into a Nine Inch Nails song: Everyday is the Same. I've been tutoring Cuddle Bear in Algebra for the last several weeks. We've hit a point where my scrambled brain is trying to do calculus and linear algebra on his work. It made today very frustrating for both of us. Add into this mix the fact that his new scientific calculator is not operating on the decimal system, it's been rather vexing. We tried to find the instruction booklet but it is missing in action. We'll probably find it in September.

Snuggle Bug is doing pretty well with summer school. I don't know if his class is going to be making something for the "Anything that Floats" regatta happening at the end of the month. Last year they won Family Favorite. We've talked about going to it again. Both boys are hoping to see their friends at it. And, to be honest, I hope they get to. They've been a bit miserable and grumpy because they haven't seen any of their friends since the end of school. Snuggle Bug has made a few new friends but mostly he is pretty lonely even at school.

Monday Menu

 Sunday is the day we go over to the in-laws' house and have dinner twice a month. I know that Beloved is planning a big batch of deviled eggs and I have no idea what else he has in mind. To say the least, it is going to be an adventure. It could be anything from lamb curry to hamburgers. I'm really proud of how his cooking skills are improving and he is getting joy out of it. Also, if you come between me and his lamb chili I will gnaw your arm off, just a warning.

Here's this week's menu:

Day	Breakfast	Lunch	Dinner
Sun	yogurt with granola coffee	salad w/ leftover pulled pork	tbd
Mon	yogurt coffee granola	chicken sand. chips	hamburgers almond milk
Tues	yogurt coffee granola	leftovers	tacos/ taco salad diet soda
Wed	yogurt coffee Eng. muffin w/ egg	egg salad sandwich chips	pulled pork cheesy potatoes iced tea
Thurs	yogurt granola coffee	leftovers salad	sandwich night water
Fri	yogurt coffee granola	chopped salad w/ tuna water	chicken nuggets/ fish salad water
Sat	yogurt granola coffee	turkey sand. chips iced tea	take out diet soda

Some ramblings about life and potholes.

 Hey y'all. 

My street got 'fixed' by the WSA (Water and Sewer Authority) and has so many potholes that I feel like I'm playing Frogger when I'm driving and trying to avoid them. The last time they fixed something, stuff broke and we didn't have water for the day. I'm pretty sure these guys are a menace to society, not because they're bad people but because they put gravel into potholes instead of actually repairing them. I'm half tempted to get some driveway sealant from the hardware store up the road and fill in the gap around the pothole and the sewer lid.

Now, this fuckery is not entirely the WSA's fault. The highway department paved over all the manholes two years ago and screwed up the road so that it has issues on top of issues. And yet, for all of this work, the railroad tracks are a nightmare. The tracks are ok, but the crossing is just about nothing but gravel and two car eating potholes. The railroad is working on that this week. Here's hoping they're better than WSA or the highway department.

I have seen people loose mufflers off of their cars because of these potholes at the tracks. Fools and people who are not from around here will go over those tracks at full speed and damage their vehicle. It's been a hazard for a while and I'm glad it is getting worked on, I just hope that it improves the drivability of the street. Our speed limit is 35 mph but sometimes you have to go 15 because the road is just that bad. Oh, one more detail I forgot to mention. This part is sheer stupidity and someone is probably going to get hurt because of it. There's a small rise and at the top of the rise it says lane closed. You pop over it and the eastbound lane is closed for the space of about a car length. But it's a double solid and a blind rise. Murder on the eyes in the morning and you hope that nobody's derping in the road on that rise because of the sun burning your corneas to a crisp. Yeah, that's been interesting. Nothing like playing chicken because the WSA couldn't fix something properly.

I've been struggling to stay on top of everything, but I am slowing getting back into my groove. Tutoring Cuddle Bear has been eye opening. This young man is going into be a high school junior this fall. He's bright, he's charming (when he feels like it), and is really focused on learning as much as he can. Things we already know. It was realizing that through middle school they short changed him on mathematics. He and I have been working through a Spectrum Math workbook focused on algebra. We finished the pre-algebra chapter this week and it became clear that they were having him working on elementary school material, not grade appropriate work.

I understand a special education classroom is a juggling act when you have students at multiple grade levels in there and it gets even more difficult when you are dealing with  learning disorders and stuff like people who need communication aids. I did this work before I had kids. It's hard and at the end of the day you are exhausted. It doesn't change the fact that you have to meet the kids at their level. My boys are smart enough to pick up algebra and geometry. How do I know that? By how they whip through some damn complicated concepts (who here remembers the identity property of zero?). 

Now I am investigating things like how was he taught English, what Science classes did he get skipped over on, what are they refusing to teach my sons because they have autism. I'm mad as hell. In his IEP reports, his teachers were saying that he was struggling with algebra because he came into the class unprepared for it. He should have been prepared. That's why we're working on it now. Because I think he's going to get shuffled into a remedial geometry class or some similar grand bullshit.

He wasn't given a choice last year about going into BOCES exploration program. And it wasn't a thing that his entire class had to do. They were trying to pidgeon hole him into a shop class, because it was easier for them to throw him at the BOCES environment than to take the damn time to educate him. Cuddle Bear hated BOCES because it was a chaotic learning environment and he had no interest in what they were teaching him. We're watching the school like a hawk to see if they're going to try to put him back into BOCES or if they're going to honor what he said in the IEP meeting.

Right now, I know that one son is approximately 4 grades behind in mathematics and possibly in other subjects as well. I have suspicions that the other son is in a similar boat. As I get this figured out, I'm trying to decide what action to take. I can't do the chain flail thing, they're unreliable as hell. But a proverbial baseball bat of information dropped on the desk of the department chair and a demand for an explanation may start moving things in the right direction.

I'm sick of people telling me what a good mom I am. I'm a fucking educator by way of my education. I get that everyone has a different learning style and I adapt my teaching styles to be responsive to them. This is not a mere 'mom' thing. I'm dragging out material from college to teach them informally about the history of the country, math skills, and language arts. Language arts is challenging because they have difficulty with inferencing. I think, however, as we work in the mathematics area, they will find that they can apply some of the skills for breaking down problems into workable bits useful for interpreting inferred content.

I'm mad. I shouldn't be doing the school's job for them. I  have my good days and I can focus to get them through their work. I have my bad days where I struggle to figure out words. All of this is weaponized bullshit of the highest order. When my kids say they want to be home schooled instead of dealing with the uncertainty of what the next school year brings, I get angry. They shouldn't be anxious that they're going to get screwed academically because of their autism.

So, where HAVE I been?

 Essentially, for the last year I have been stuck in a major depressive episode. I could barely function. Typically my mental state is mildly depressed. You live through enough garbage and, I have to admit, it haunts you. Thankfully, I did not hit the point where I was hallucinating or actively suicidal. But it was really hard. 

Now that I've hit the other end of that tunnel and discovered the light is an exit instead of an oncoming train, I'm trying to get back to how things were before it began. It did leave wreckage behind. I have friendships that I need to reestablish and rebuild because I went radio silent for so long. I have business connections to reestablish and hopefully move forward with the projects I had going with them. My home is a disaster because depressed Deb is a shitty housekeeper and the kids do the bare minimum to help. (That's mighty vexing on it's own.)

I have come to the conclusion that I need to find a counselor again. It is going to be hard because I have so much trauma and baggage to work through. It is painful but I can't keep doing this work on my own. I've done it on my own (with the pharmaceutical side handled by an excellent and compassionate doctor). It's been almost seven years since I have seen a therapist. I am a little gun shy about the prospect with how 2011 went. (To say it was a fucking disaster is like saying the sun is kinda warm.)

Heh, shufflemancy strikes again: Natural Blues just started playing on my rando playlist. I get quiet and withdraw because I was taught when I was younger that showing pain or any socially unpleasant response to anything was dangerous. It carried forward with other life experiences reinforcing this mind-control bullshit lesson from my parents. (Have I mentioned that I may be crazy but they're nuts?)

My tarot reading business on Keen went to hell in a handbasket because the new owners got greedy. When the overhead of running a business is over 50% of your net income and you still have to pay taxes on the gross income, you are not going to last very long. I'm still pissed about that. I enjoyed the platform. I enjoyed most of the people I came into contact with. But I am one of the readers that was basically forced out of it because they've been recruting new readers (and charging them $200.00 to join, it was free to join back in 2007) and actively engaging in shenanigans that put the onus on the long term readers to pay for the platform upgrades (which we didn't get any tech support for) and similar bullshit. Thus, I permanently am leaving the organization and feeling bad that I am disabled. Because Keen was a way that I brought a little income into the household and felt useful. (Yes, this is due to more mindfuckery from my parents, who told me that I was only valuable for what I could do and how much money I made. I had zero value as a person in that household.)

Monday Menu

 The first week of the kids being on break was harsh. A few fights. Some tears. Enough teen angst to fill an Olympic sized swimming pool. The high heat had everyone on edge. My blood sugar bounced around in the upper numbers which made me feel like garbage and incapeable of getting all of my chores done. Here's hoping this week is smoother.

Day	Breakfast	Lunch	Dinner
Sun	yogurt with granola coffee	ham sand. baby carrots iced tea	hotdogs & hamburgers salad diet soda
Mon	yogurt coffee granola	julienne salad water	hamburgers almond milk
Tues	yogurt coffee granola	turkey sand. baby carrots water	tacos/ taco salad diet soda
Wed	yogurt coffee Eng. muffin w/ egg	gazpacho sand. thin egg water	pulled pork cheesy potatoes iced tea
Thurs	yogurt granola coffee	egg salad sand. baby carrots iced tea	sandwich night water
Fri	yogurt coffee granola	chopped salad w/ tuna water	chicken nuggets/ fish salad water
Sat	yogurt granola coffee	turkey sand. chips iced tea	take out diet soda

Monday Menus are Back.

 I've been having difficulty keeping my A1C below 7 points. So, I'm going back to making menus for myself. Some items are for the whole family (typically dinner). My doctor is having me cut back on caffeine to resolve my night time heart burn problems before I develop an ulcer. I have switched to half-caff coffee and I am having 3 cups a day instead of 5. I have also done my best to not go bananas over iced tea (one of my favorites) and cut back on the diet soda. It's been a challenging three weeks. On my first day, I tried to go cold turkey and have no caffeine. That resulted in a migraine. Hence the fact that coffee is still in the menu. I have also been pushing more water. I have a 24 oz tumbler that I drink four full tumblers through the day. It works well for me to hit my target for water consumption.

Enough rambling, here's the menu:

 

Day	Breakfast	Lunch	Dinner
Sun	yogurt coffee bagel thin w/ cream cheese	peanut butter and jelly sand. chips almond milk	pizza diet soda
Mon	yogurt coffee granola	ham sand. chips iced tea	hamburgers almond milk
Tues	yogurt coffee granola	turkey sand. baby carrots water	tacos/ taco salad diet soda
Wed	yogurt coffee Eng. muffin w/ egg	gazpacho sand. thin egg water	pulled pork cheesy potatoes iced tea
Thurs	yogurt granola coffee	egg salad sand. baby carrots iced tea	sandwich night water
Fri	yogurt coffee granola	chopped salad w/ tuna water	chicken nuggets/ fish salad water
Sat	yogurt coffee cheese omlette bagel thin w/ cream cheese	turkey sand. chips iced tea	take out diet soda

Happy Pride Month, Keep Fighting.

 Dear Reader,

I have found one method of wrapping my hair that agrees with my scalp. Wearing a cotton kerchief beneath the scarves works out pretty well. Then I wrap it rather securely, because I have a small head.

You may have noticed a theme in the colors. They're the colors for the bisexual flag. I'm not as tired as I look in this pic. I'm just exasperated with the computer's shenanigans before I was actually get it to take the pic.

The colors in the bisexual flag are purple, pink, blue, and black. I think it's fantastic. The way I wrapped this is in a double braided crown. Then I used a hair taping technique to bind the two braids together with my blue ribbon. I'm wearing my heart earrings because LOVE! The chipped stone necklaces are rose quartz, amythest, and sodalite. The pendant that you can't see on the silver chain is my Greenman pendant for Freyr. I see him as a god who approves of Pride and works behind the scenes to help the movement be successful. Another goddess (aside from Freyja who is all about this business) that I associate with Pride is Lofn, the Nordic and Germanic goddess of forbidden relationships, the one who shelters lovers that others try to pull apart and encourages them to have hope in their relationship's strength.

Lately, Beloved and I have been watching with horror the push back against Pride and the LGBTQ+ community. We've been doing what little we can. He has a pink hat with the Progress flag on it. I have a jacket with all kinds of Pride stuff on it and something for people who are in domestic abuse situations (i.e. that queer kid getting abused by there parents can talk to me and I can point them in the direction of resources that will help them).We're planning to do more activisim in a less passive way. Because if our boys tell us that they're part of the LGBTQ+ spectrum, we want to make sure it's safe for them.

My week sucks, how about yours?

 Dear Reader,

Sunday was actually a decent day. Monday happened with Memorial Day parade and ceremony at the fire department up the road. The jingoism and the knee jerk cheer for the kid who stood up and gave a 'special statement' made me disgusted. It read like something from the Hitler Youth, literally ending with an exhortation for us to be good Americans.

I wept openly as they played the national anthem for what this country has become. I also wept when they played taps. The others aren't necromancers, they couldn't see the rank and file of the military dead of the town standing at attention, having been summoned by the ceremony. I acted as the designated mourner for them. Meanwhile the people in front of me were babbling about the fire trucks looking like they had a new paint job and what they were going to have at their cook out. It made me sick.

Monday also sucked because in the evening was when the migraine hit. It lasted until this morning. I was useless for anything, doing my best to keep down food, and remembering not to cry out when light randomly hit me directly in the eyes with out my sunglasses on in the apartment.

Today I am post migraine which is almost as bad. I didn't get anything done today either because I spent most of my day sleeping off the migraine 'hangover'. I absolutely hate these things. So, that's where I'm at. How are you? Doing better I hope.

Perseveration sucks.

 Perseveration is the act of thinking about one topic for an extended period at the exclusion of other topics. This is different from concentration or being focused. It can go on for hours or, even, days. It's part of a collection of symptoms I have from  my mental illnesses. I pretty much hate it because I perseverate on horrible things from the past that I don't have 'resolved'. Honestly, I don't think you can resolve the breech of trust that comes from when your parents throw you out of the house when you're extremely ill in the middle of winter. I had pennies to my name and they were going to leave me with just the clothes on my back out in the street. My Grandparents intervened and that's how I wound up living in east Jesus for a year before I got married.

 I grew up on a farm about 5 miles from civilization in any direction. There was literally nowhere for me to go. I've been thinking about this for weeks. I had to deal with threats of being thrown out from the age of 12 through my early 20s. When they did it, they claimed it was because I wasn't pulling my weight as a member of the household. Meanwhile, one brother chain smoked, played video games, and was unemployed for years by that point, with a child. The other brother was in the military but wasted his money on alcohol instead of supporting his wife and children, leaving the rest of the family to do that. And when he was on leave, he would play video games and fuck off to bars in the area to get his drink on instead of going to be with his family. Neither brother cleaned anything, they wouldn't cook, or do their own laundry.

It was my childhood all over again during the time from graduation from college to when they threw me out. I was basically the household serf who had to perform perfectly and be silent. There is a lot of unresolved trauma around all of that. I think that's why I can't get it out of my head. It's part of a long list of things that I am certain I can never 'resolve' only learn to live with.

A special embroidery project completed.

 The fan pictured to the right is a project that was stuffed into a bag of yarn I inherited from my late paternal Grandmother. She only had the handle of the fan done before it got put into a bag of yarn and forgotten. (Not that I've done that before, wink.)

It has taken me months to work on it because it was an emotionally grueling task. Finding a strand of her hair tangled up with some of the wool for this pattern, I got teary eyed and twisted the wool a little tighter so that silver thread of memory was in it. Looking at the finished product you can't tell where it is, I felt that was appropriate.

I still have to mount this and frame it. It is going to go beside the white fan with flowers on it and a Monarch butterfly beside it. That was the one she completed. It is sitting on the bookcase. This will likely go beside it. I miss my paternal Grandparents terribly and I haven't fully mourned their deaths. Family politics and circumstances kept me from their internment. At the viewing I was wandering around comforting relatives. I got a brief glimpse of my Grandfather in the box at his viewing and not a single glance at my Grandmother's viewing.

Some day, Beloved and I are going to go down to the family plot and lay some flowers down. It won't be easy, but it will be healthier for me than thinking they're still puttering around at the farm.

One post a month is progress, right?

 I feel guilty that the blogs are all in want of attention. I feel like I'm just making up excuses about why I haven't been writing at the rate I had been in the past. At the same time, I am anxious about meeting the sleep specialist. I worry about how therapy is going for my kids. I worry about Beloved's health and all the damn stress he's under. 

My home is a mess. But I cleared out a few feet worth of space in the project room. I have been organizing piles of goods and making decisions on how to approach them. It feels like a lame distraction from how much of a mess my kitchen is. I'm forcing myself to stay awake to post this. And yet I can't manage to get these damn dishes done.

Beloved would gently remind me right now that I am still having problems sleeping which is messing with my energy levels. He would tell me that if I'm practically falling asleep at the keyboard, I should take a short nap. He would remind me that it isn't laziness that has me avoiding the dishes but the trauma from how I was taught to wash them. And then give me a stern look asking if I was going to take that short nap I needed.

And he'd be right. On all points.

Hey! I'm losing my marbles.

I don't know if I've posted any recent pics of myself. I want to say that I haven't in a while because I just
haven't been blogging. Please forgive the terrible lighting, but here's a pic that I took just today. For the record, my hair used to be approximately hip length three years ago. Two years ago, it was shoulder length and breaking, coming out, and splitting. So, I walked into a salon with a picture of what I wanted. The people running the salon had me literally sit in the corner and think if I was sure I wanted such a dramatically different cut.

Looking back on that, I chuckle. I've wanted a haircut like this since I was a teen. When I was a teen, I would have been thrown out of the house for it. For you folks who can't tell with the messed up lighting, I have a buzzed undercut and a short pixie cut on top. I've mussed it up and spiked it up for this pic. It's how I usually wear it. I don't typically put product into my hair, but I did today just to make sure that this look held long enough for me to take this pic. 

The people at the salon were declaring me brave for cutting my hair. I looked at them like they had lost their minds. I said bluntly, "It's hair. If I don't like the cut, it'll grow back. What am I going to do, get mad at you because I was dumb? That's just foolish." There was a collective gasp and then a sigh of relief. When the haircut was done, the stylist said to me that she had never seen someone so determined to get their hair cut before. I shrugged and replied that I knew the only way to keep my hair from falling out faster was to go short. Next thing I know, I'm being regaled with horror stories from the stylists in the salon of others who were losing their hair and went long to super long and how badly it ended up for them.

They still don't believe I had hip length hair before. I think I'm going to have to bring my wedding picture in to show them how long my hair used to be. I still don't understand people who flip out on their stylist when their hair doesn't come out like how the envisioned it in their minds or like the person in the photo. Everyone's head is different. I knew my pixie cut portion wasn't going to lay flat because I have something like five cowlicks on the top of my head. (Super annoying with a regular pixie cut but kinda awesome with this.) Maybe other people are not as self aware when it comes to their hair. I don't know. I still think it's foolish to scream over your hair being your hair and behaving in its own unique way. 

If you hate your hair that much, wouldn't it be easier to just get a wig instead of constant disappointment or anger with your stylist?

Edited to add a better pic: