how do you like your blueeyed boy / Mister Death

Playlist.

Strawberry Kisses * Nikki Webster

   Grass * XTC

Penguins * Lyle Lovett

    The Way It Used To Be * Pet Shop Boys

World Spins Madly On * The Weepies

EuEu, One June

Since our son, Coriander Pendragon, was born, our dog, Euclid Ian, seems to have lost any yen for running away. I let him out of the house with me without a leash  ‒ at wee distances, anyway, like when popping in 'n' out of the house to take the garbage to the wheelie bin. He stays right with me. Bjorn can take him to go get the mail, and Euclid stays right with him. 

   I am still cautious about it ... Eu is a car- / biker- / skateboarder- chaser. And Eu's "twin", a neighbor dog, was run over by a car over while I was pregnant and her death still sits with me. In my caution, when I let him out with me I sometimes take out treats (kibble) with me, to reinforce the habits I want. 

Today Eu and I went out to take out our wonderfully fragrant garbage, and a biker came down the street while we were at the bin. Euclid didn't even blench! Good dog.

our neighbor died yesterday

It's been a full spring for food. The nettle season was wide and long. The morels were plentiful. We had smoked Springer wings for breakfast this morning.

   I was shown how to select a ripe honeydew. You probably don't believe me, but well-ripe honeydew is delicious. Only once before in my life had I had the fortune to take one home and be pleased. Now it's twice! (Go for soft and yellow.)

Every afternoon (but Mondays) Bjorn takes Sy out for a couple of hours. I get some time to myself.

Dedicated to Rita for ME/CFS Awareness Day

I am, in nursing fits and starts, rereading The Moral Animal: Why We Are The Way We Are: The New Science of Evolutionary Psychology (copyright 1994). I first read it in 2003. It was a pivotal book for me. It nudged me. 

   The author uses a biographical conceit: he looks at the ol' New Science via the life and times of Charles Darwin.

Darwin suffered from terrible illness as an adult. Darwin often lamented 'how much was lost to [his] illness'. He was "slowed by frequent illness ‒ violent shivering and vomiting attacks, gastric pain and epic flatulence, faintness, heart palpitations" [229]. I wondered (based on more evidence than this quote ;) if he had ... well, to modernize it crudely, if he had ME/CFS. 

Many have wondered, and many have speculated about, why he took so long to publish his IDEA (i.e., natural selection). (It's well established that he worked out natural selection years and years before giving others an inkling.) It's a mystery that calls not for solution.

   But investigation ‒ !

   There's the barnacles theory ... the hostile social climate theory ... the illness theory. Some speculators imply that Darwin was sick in order to hide, or as a result of hiding, his theory. (Probably most Mysteriously Chronically Ill people are familiar with this train of thought.)

"Given all this ‒ a secure workplace, the faint sound of the grim reaper's footsteps, and completion, at last, of all scholarly obligations from the Beagle expedition ‒ given all this, what cause could there possible be to further postpone the writing of Darwin's book on natural selection?

   "In a word: barnacles." [231] Barnacles: red herring; barnacles: white elephant; barnacles: decoy duck.

   [. . .]

   "Some people accept that Darwin had a bona fide disease, probably contracted in South America (perhaps Chagas' disease or chronic fatigue syndrome), but say he used barnacles to subconsciously forestall the day or reckoning." [233] Well! There you have it. Interesting. In 1994, Wright refers to CFS as a bona fide disease. 

Billions and billions of blistering blue!

he's 10 months old

Baby Sy takes steps, gives gentle kisses, definitely recognizes some words, has 2 teeth.

   He loves his dog. Nothing lately makes him laugh more than his dog. They are learning to play together in a way both enjoy.

Glancing Back, Going Forward

I threw out my back in December. It was excruciating. I considered, seriously, taking pain pills ‒ an extreme measure for me ‒ even though I am nursing: square the extremism. I am not a stranger to pain and I will take a lot of it without complaint and without drugs. (When a knife went all the way through my hand, I took 4 ibuprofen. When I went all the way through 44.5 hours of unrelenting labor, much of it posterior labor, I took no pain pills (or liquids, or gases, or crystals, or ... any such material).)

   This back situation had me helpless and immobile. I nursed while on the floor, through clenching, wracking spasms. I thought through how to pee while immobile, too (thank goodness we had all those diapers in the house!?).

Perhaps you remember my post in January about my appointment to see a Physical Therapist for some Movement Reeducation? Well ... I went.

It was demoralizing. 

I chose not to see that therapist again. In my habit of autodidactism, I took matters into my own hands. I discovered Katy Bowman. She is the best new person to have "happened" to me this year. I am now "a Katy Bowman freak", in the words of Bjorn. Katy Bowman, demi-goddess of biomechanics. Katy Bowman, life changer. Katy Bowman, Katy Bowman.

   I have only begun my movement reeducation. I am happy. The shape of my life is changing.

Broken, or Not Broken?

We had linden-leaf salad last night. Yum. We shared supper with a guest, and I was cooking all afternoon. I thought it was pretty warm, but I didn't change out of my thick leggings or long-sleeved shirt. I later learned it was 90°F. Um??? Who am I? How did I not Faint In The Sultry Glebe? I barely even noticed it was sultry.

Good Day Here Comes the Sunshine

Sweet morning playtime. Leftovers for breakfast. Datetime with Bjorn. Two games of Race for the Galaxy, one win for me (with an Alien tableau, one of my favorite ways to win Race). An anxiously-awaited library hold in hand. Leftovers for lunch. Three long-undone chores completed.

Humpity Dumpity

I like to riff off of others' blog posts – particularly those of friends and family. The other day my niece Taz posted pics on her private blog of her recent learning-to-roller-stake bruises. Purple patellae! I soon thereafter acquired some spectacular bruises of my own, and I considered posting pics so I could have a multi-media bruise post too. My bruises are purple blossoms clustered around my bottom cleft, and as cute as my cleft is, it seems malapropos for my readership. So no pictures.

   I did not get the bruises while learning to roller skate; I am not learning to roller skate. If I were I would have way more bruises. I bruised up after slipping on – indeed, OFF – a bridge, an arced bridge without railing, peppered with peacock poop, leading to an island in a lake, an island with a wannabe Japanese garden on a prospective farm property. BOOM. There's a scene in One Morning in Maine in which Sal slips on a rock and a loon laughs at her. There's a scene in The Man From Snowy River in which Jessica says “everything seemed so clear to me.” In the moments of my falling, and just after my fall, I experienced the essence of both of these scenes. 

   Taz, by the way, was walking right behind me on the bridge and also fell, right behind / on top of me. But she is a falling pro. So I bet she didn't get any extra, bridge bruises.

Garderobe

As ward is the the twin of guard, and warranty the same as guarantee, today I feature wardrobe and garderobe.

Sylvan needed bigger clothes. Last Friday, Jen took me shopping at a consignment sale that LMNO Pea puts on in February. Bjorn and I went last year and selected a variety of goods; ... car seat ... toylet ... diapering paraphernalia ... a few baby clothes (up to size 12 mo). I didn't know then that my baby would be Sylvan! Shopping for HIM this year was so different!

A few things I know about Sylvan that influenced the shopping: 1. he is bigger than the average; 2. he has a favored color: ORANGE!?; 3. he does not like having things put on over his head. 

   In accordance, I bought 1. big; 2. some orange shirts (I think I wouldn't've have selected any orange without knowing Sylvan favors it); and 3. many button-y shirts (all plaid. I like plaid).

It was nice to have Jen helping me. I don't enjoy shopping. It stresses my senses and sensibilities. There were so many other parents at this event, and lots of tots (mine was at home with his papa); it was crowded and cryful. Some women get let-down when they hear babies cry, and my breasts were stressed. It was chemically polluted, too: all the clothes were washed in a strongly fragrant detergent. There was a "Scentsy" vendor on the sidelines, to boot. I would feel sick when I got home.

   First I found the right rows of clothes. Then I whipped out my rusty shopping calculus and snagged items that satisfied it; the cutest, the cheapest, the most versatile in terms of color (mix'n'match), the most versatile in terms of activity and weather, the easiest to care for (wash'n'wear). After much but not protracted calculus, Jen and I lugged the lot ‒ the loot ‒ to a corner and sorted it. Then I culled; picking the items I liked best in each garment category (pants, short pants, knit tops, &c), keeping the calculus in mind. She returned the remainders to the racks.

Good job me, right? Of course right.

I made a frivolous-ish selection: a dress-up set with an argyle sweater atop blue seersucker trousers! Seersucker reminds me of my dad. I picked out this dapper ensemble for connection to his Grandpa.

   Anyway, excepting shoes, socks, and hats, I garnered in one morning a year-round wardrobe for my little one for $107 (thank you Bjorn and Gramma). He may have the nicest wardrobe of anyone in the house!

in like a LION

I set some big goals for this year (2016). They include

• learn to play Smash Up

• design (at least) one homeschool module, and proffer the module(s) to Ivar and Taz

• walk downtown, go shopping at the Farmers' Market, buy the regular goods, and tote them back home (at least once)

• walk in Priest Point Park

• pick something yummy at a U-Pick farm (I'm thinkin' blueberries but I'm not picky)

• get a will made (for Sylvan's sake)

• set up my music – hardware and software – in a way that works really well for me

• read each Bookerlund group book

~

You may note, some of the things are things to do for-the-first-time (like Smash Up and visiting PPP). Some are for-the-first-time-since... (like the U-Pick and walking to the Market). Some are chores (like the will). Some are for Ye Goode Olde Funne (learning modules).

   For each goal I harbor a notion or two about how to meet it by October (building in a couple of months' buffer for lag). To my astonishment, I have met one already and have nearly met another, both far before target (I thought it would take me until well into the summer to be able to walk as far as the Market and back).

How about I check in in a month and let you know how it's goin'?

history: pluperfected?

A week ago I went to a play in which my niece Taz had several parts. Many family gathered for the big event. Of them all, my brother-in-law alone waited to give me company back home (I took 10 minutes to feed Sylvan after the show; it ended at his nursing hour). On our walk home we had a good chance to converse anent Cabbages and Kings. He spoke of something he's reading, and I learned about historical materialism and historical ideology. He mentioned that History, The Subject (presented, as it is, in ideological terms) had not been compelling or coherent to him, and how that might resolve. 
   How resonant with my experience! More, it spoke to an open question in the forefront of my mind. I have been trying (recently and with some concentration) to articulate, approach, and solve how History and I have historically not clicked. Moremore, it presented a door to solution.

Odin's Day

Yesterday was a lovely day. Sylvan's grandparents took him to library lap-sit ‒ as they do every Wednesday, and it's a treat.

   Gramma Jen stayed with us through the early afternoon and took Sylvan on a walk. Ivar and Taz accompanied. I heard tell that Ivar charmed Sylvan out of his grumps with a daffodil. Bjorn and I had an engagement with Grot to look at farm properties. I enjoyed myself.

   Afterward, Bjorn took Taz to SkateLand and Ivar read books to Sylvan (SUPER cute) when he got home from Tae Kwan Do.

good day sunshine! or menus of Slop & Taxes

Wow! What a morning! In the space of an hour: 

Bjorn discovered the IRS messed up our taxes and their mess-up could result in penalties to us! 

   He took it upon himself to call the IRS; this raises his grumpiness to epic levels, +1 level for each IRS phone navigation menu! 

A plush toy was discovered to have a mysterious distribution of baby poop all over its face! (Not best beloved Mr Chicken Ambrosius Bock, thank goodness!) 

   The dog was discovered to have vomited! He began licking it up! Frothy Bile Two Ways is disallowed on his breakfast menu!

Person Breakfast got delayed! ... And yet, I got a good night's rest and I feel WONDERFUL!

severe retirement damage

Most people probably think I'm not properly retired. The Internet Retirement Police represent the Generally Acceptable criteria. 

   My main disqualification? I don't dedicate my time to leisure.

   When (a few years ago) I asked my sister Winn Dixie how much she would need to have saved to be comfortable retiring, she named a prodigious sum ‒ certainly more than is funding my retirement.

Though few peeps would count mine as a retirement worth having, the gooberment has its own rubric, and my Federal overlords cast a conclusion opposite that of the Internet Retirement Police: They won't let me put money in a retirement fund. Nary a single Bram.

a Picasso or a Garfunkel

Every once in a while, I write down what I fancy I'd do if I suddenly got a million dollars (net, i.e., post-tax). I don't set out to do it regularly. As far as I can recall there's always some prompt, some external event, that draws my attention to the topic. Most recently it was the book Julie and Romeo Get Lucky. It is interesting to see how my lists change over the years. 

   Take 10 minutes. Write the first things that come to mind. Here's my latest list, made mid-January 2016.

• invest half [500k]
• fund a vacation to Italy for Rita and her husband Luc (including a souvenir outfit for each (complete with Italian leather shoes)) [490k]
• buy art for my home (I have 4 specific pieces in mind) [430k]
• pay down scholastic debt for Rita and for my brother-in-law Grot [410k]
• book a month-o'-Sundays' worth of hotel getaways for Em, my sister-in-law [400k]
• fund Grot's retirement [300k]
• get regular massages and hair-stylin' (you wouldn't know it but I so do enjoy having my hair did) [290k]
• purchase something for my friend Luminous Fractal

Growing

It is the season of the first crocus. Of the pioneering daffodil. Sylvan's weight is in the 80th %ile and his height is in the 90th %ile.
   BOOM, baby.
   Gramma and Grampa bought us a stroller. We (Sly, Eu, me) strolled yesterday AND today, both times with the monkey's Unky.

This week he peed in the toilet away from home for the first time! Not surprisingly, it was at Gramma's house. :)

Big yesterDay

Yesterday Sylvan sat up by himself and crawled for the first times. DEVELOP ALL THE THINGS!

Today Grampa took Sylvan to the library, where Aunt Em does storytime for babies his age. Speaking of his age (6.5 mo), he's wearing 12 mo clothes.
   He drools much less than he used to. He enjoys smoked salmon, pork chops, and mamamilk.
   He is interested in shadows. He is fascinated by mama's and papa's headlamps. He might want one of his own someday.

media++ list from syllabus for DG course "Going Viral 101"

{Article} "Zika: Of Virus, Vector, Victim, Drought, Deforestation, the World Cup, the Epigenome & Evolution"
   Here was the first I heard of Zika, syncitin, and "aerial rivers"!
   I'd read a lot about how our genome co-evolved with bacteria, but not as much about it co-evolving with viruses.
   Junk DNA not so junky?

{Non-fiction} Acquiring Genomes
   Last read in 2008. Time to revisit it.

{Photograph} Trees; WANTED: dead or alive.
   A bat in its home. Courtesy "Nine Wonderful Ways Wildlife Need Trees" from nwf.org



{Article} "When a Country Without Abortion Tells Women Not to Get Pregnant" 
   The El Salvadoran government wants its(!) women to not get pregnant for a couple years. 40% are already sterile self-made. What's next?

{Novel} When She Woke, pp 1-100
   In dystopian-future Texas, a woman gets an abortion and is caught and convicted of murder.
   She is jailed for 30 days and released after punitive variolation. The virus changes the pigment of her skin.

{Scent} phial of Victoria's Secret perfume "Bombshell"
   See this NPR article for the mosquitoid relevance.
   Not only is this the sole non-media item on this list, it's the only one I haven't knowingly encountered / read / experienced.

I Am Arachne

Today I have an appointment at which I will be evaluated for physical therapies in service of movement reeducation. My plain ol' doctor recommended and referred me to treatments from a particular clinic more than a month ago. Many demands and distractions on my time kept me from biting this bullet in a more timely fashion. (read: Scarcity: why having too little means so much)

     Setting the appointment was an itsy bitsy spider of an accomplishment. Getting the paperwork completed, the directions written, and the take-with items collected the night before the appointment is a tarantella of an accomplishment. Here is a Miss Muffet of accomplishments: I have already made breakfast and lunch for today. I shall pop! the prepared food into the oven, and violin! Food! Moreover, I didn't wear myself out yesterday, or any day, preparing for today. I made today's breakfast on Tuesday morning. Most wondrous awe-ccomplishment of all -- the spider nebula -- I do such every week: on Tuesdays I double-batch breakfast. I made today's lunch three weeks ago (on a rare quadruple-batch Monday). And here's the deathly ticklish little red spider on top: this morning I had enough freed time to blog about it all. I am my hero!

not the weightiest matters

at 25 weeks

• total weight increase: 07.4 lb

the more things change

• sleeping with 4 pillows, 3 of them king sized; cannot sleep without them; would fight a chicken to protect my pillows

the less things change

• had – at one point* – expected stretch marks by this time (was fairly small and taut before, have expanded SO MUCH); none yet (*I've since learned that women pregnant and Paleo often get none)

25-27 weeks

remarkable

• (my brother-in-law En) “So how far along are you now? Third trimester? Because you look like it.”

• (our neighbor) “You must be growing by the minute!”

• (my Bjorn) “Your bellybutton is disappearing.” and “You don't look pregnant from behind.”

• (my doula) “Some women just don't put on as much weight [in pregnancy]. Your body just isn't preparing for famine, that's all.”

at 29 weeks

• total weight increase: 11.6 lb • fundal height: 29.5 cm • fasting blood glucose level: 74

new

• Never before has wearing a bra felt so comfortable. Got measured by the local professional for a new one: 34C. (Previously 32B.) 

now

• can't wash the dog (can no longer lean over the utility sink without significant straining)

at 31 weeks

• total weight increase: 13.6 lb

Subvital Statistix

at 21 weeks

• total weight increase: 4.2 lb (3.2%) • fundal height: 21.0 cm • baby heart bpm: 150 • blood pressure: 101/60

at 22 weeks

now can't

• sleep on stomach

can yet

• put socks (and shoes) on while standing up (with some awkwardness, though) • get from the floor to standing using only my feet • poop like a champion • wash dog while standing at the utility sink

at 23 weeks

• total weight increase: 6.0 lb (4.5%) • fundal height: 23.5 cm • blood pressure: 104/64

Gung Hay!

The Chinese New Year is absurdly significant to me. I love turning the leaf, reckoning a new year; and of feasts movable and immovable, I favor the movable. I used to live next to Seattle's “Chinatown”, the ID, and I have pungent memories of firecracker holiday hubbub. Dragons dancing. Street food, calling extra rats. I feel some sort of cosmic hum at the exchange of red envelopes around good ol' bloody ol' St Valentine's Day. January is mostly dead, but February starts to quicken. 

This is the time to live. Again.

Tons of Caucasians love to discuss their Chinese Zodiac signs while breaking fortune cookies. I can tell you the sign of most of my relations. There is soon to be one more.

Archer Dog
and
Scaley Ox
To Have
and
To Hold
Baby Sheep:

Announcing the Gestation of Crabby Lambykins
•

EDD 11 July 2015

How Do You Rate | How Do They?

I received a piece of mail from my gas&electric company. (I handle the household billings.) I get e-statements so I was apprehensive about official snail mail from them. It turned out to be a paper congratulating me / reporting on my low energy usage. According to their little graph, over the last two months we used 4% less power than the top 20% most efficient neighbors. (“Neighbors” are “occupied, nearby” houses “similar in size to yours” which “have both electricity and natural gas service.”) We rated a "Great :) :)”.

Is this awesome?

__ yes

__ NO

Precious and Few | Seek After These Things

I have given up my meta-stress. It has been about six weeks now.

I might have expected to feel triumph, or arrival, or having overcome. Yet I don't; I don't feel that being this way calls for extra celebration. It is its own reward.

How many things are truly that? Rather, which other things are?