15

January
2018

6:31 pm

january walk

Because anxietybrain is a thing, I have been somewhat insular these past few months. We will not get into the details of anxietybrain, we will just note that it appears to be a fixture for the time being, and, well, there that is. At the moment, though, I have a nice cup of tea, and the heater is on, and I feel up to writing a bit.

It has been long enough that I had to do housekeeping first, what with wordpress all fussy about installing updates, and then wanting me to do backups first, which meant delving into my provider's admin section, and wonder of wonders, I think I did it all right. In the end I entirely forgot I have an ftp utility and hammered it out on the terminal.

So, what have we been doing? First off, mourning the loss of our best boy Cardhu, who died at the end of September following a short but intense bout with cancer. He was my bubba, and some walks are still hard without him. My partner did a lovely write-up of his life with us, and it is here.

One of those walks is along through Drumbeg, into the trees and wind around and out on the shore. Cardhu loved Drumbeg, especially the part that was wet. We went there yesterday, with friends, and their little dog Chester. The sea fog was in, and enveloped all the lower parts of the island…

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28

November
2016

9:14 am

balloons and river

watercolour

balloons and river

How I whiled away my rainy Sunday: listening to a recording of BBC's radio production of Fellowship of the Ring and painting. Will possibly need to do more, as Frodo’s only made it to Rivendell.

5

November
2016

1:11 pm

periday

I have declared today a Periday; one in which I give not one fuck for anything anyone else thinks I should be doing to be a proper person. I have therefore paid mid-month bills early (because massive online banking clusterfuck scheduled for what else? mid-month, you betcha) and arranged to have gobs of cash on hand for mundane things, like groceries and the apocalypse and the upcoming frolic in Vancouver. (I’m actually leaving the island! For more than a day!) And I have resumed baking, now that my finger is healed. Mostly healed. Okay, no longer gaping and oozing. I cut it doing stupid knife tricks while carving a pumpkin last weekend. This pumpkin, in fact:

I carved this one!

An amateur effort, to be sure

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12

June
2016

10:06 am

pride

There are things I worry about, these days, living here, with Nola, in this house on this island. Things like, will it rain before the cistern gets too low, or why is the dog limping, or has anyone counted the cats recently. Things I’ve mostly stopped worrying about: will someone shoot me if I hold Nola’s hand in public?

Mostly.

In my twenties, I tended bar for several years at a combination c&w/disco in Texas. It was one of the very few lesbian bars in the state. Pride Week was huge; everyone came out for it. It was a fuckton of work, starting early afternoon and going till legal closing time, which varied between weeknights and weekend, and beyond, since while we might shut off the alcohol, soft drinks and coffee meant the party didn’t have to end till dawn. We made noise, breathed deep, smiled and laughed and shouted our presence. I remember the packed bodies, the heat, the noise and thumping bass, Philip in drag, Mary and Rhonda and I sneaking smokes in between uncapping Bud Lights and pouring shots, someone ordering for a table and me adding the total as I poured and her not believing I could do that till I rang it up on the register. Another night on the door and being raided by the ATF and I carded them and was shown a holstered gun as their ID.

Pride is why I still hold her hand in public.

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3

June
2016

10:32 am

older dog is older

Cardhu, our golden retriever, will be 11 this month. Which is getting up there for a large dog. If you check out Nola’s weblog, you’ll get caught well up on All Things Cardhu. So, anyway, he is getting on, and along with getting on comes the occasional emergency vet event, which we got to do this morning. He didn’t want his food, or his water, and a golden who does not want food is a sad golden indeed. He hunched over and panted instead, and the diagnosis of the vet here is he has probably hurt his back and now must rest and take anti-inflammatories and pain meds. No exercise for a week, and won’t that be fun? Not.

But there, it comes to us all, eh?

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