A Study in Contrasts

I just noodled around yesterday, trying to paint a portrait without doing any sort of drawing first.  It was a horrible, horrible failure.  It was so bad that I'm saving it for the end of the post, so that I can start out with the one I'm really, really proud of- the one I drew and painted this evening:

I love braaaaaiiiiiiiddddds!

I was feeling sorry for myself after yesterday's debacle (you guys it's so bad, and the more I tried to somehow salvage it, the worse things became, until it was like maybe being awful was the only true reality, one that I must accept or go mad...) so I decided to draw something that I enjoy drawing, and something I enjoy drawing- really enjoy drawing- is hair.  I had thought, vaguely, that I might be doing Daenerys Targaryan (especially since I was using a promo shot for hair reference/inspiration) but after I started painting (which I hadn't intended to do tonight, but... well... I got into it...) I realized that actually I was illustrating the Lady Amalthea.  So maybe I'll draw a unicorn tomorrow night, or a red bull, or Prince Lir, or hell, even King Haggard.  We'll see.

Oh, speaking of horrible soulless monsters that are bent on destroying everything innocent and pure in this world:

Yes, this really was painted by the same person.  AKA me.  Please don't rescind my art degree.

Well then.  That's humiliating.  And I've got to get back to studying in the morning, but before I do that I need to work out, which means that now?  Now it's time for bed.  Past, even.  Here's hoping the unicorns keep the nightmares at bay...

Jenny O Does Maui

Okay, right off the bat I need to admit that I am not going to do a post for every day I was gone; I am going to cluster them all into one loooong post.  Which is to say, this post.  Because Momma's gotta sleep, ya'll.  Plus I still need to do updates for "post-Hawaii"...  those might happen tomorrow... anyway...

01.21.18:

It was a 12+ hour travel day.  I did a very quick ink sketch on the plane.  It's not worth sharing, so I won't (no wait I lied: you can see a bit of it in the corner of the photo below).

01.22.18:

The view from our lanai

I don't normally enjoy landscapes, but this one?  This was an absolute delight to paint: sitting in the warm air, smelling the plumeria, listening to a variety of birds chatter, and watching whales spout their little hearts out.  And the nice thing about painting a scene rather than photographing it is that you can automatically edit out things like telephone wires and cars.  Winning.

01.23.18:

A quickly sketched impression.

Did I say a variety of birds?  I should have used a capital V: Variety.  Hell, maybe even all-caps VARIETY.  So many beautiful birds.  Pretty sure that if I spent more time in Hawaii I'd turn into a bird-watcher, I was that charmed.  I splashed down the color for this little guy, and then added some questionable line work later:

The surrounding splotches were me demonstrating things for the niblings.

01.24.18

Love that color combo.

I managed to make it into the ocean every day except the last day (more on that later), so it shouldn't really be surprising that I also spent some time trying to capture it with my brush.

01.25.18

There's even more experimentation over the rest of the page.

I tried to capture some of the brilliant sunset effect, with considerably less luck.  I need to circle back around to this eventually, but it's really had to capture both vivid color and the bleeding effect.  Challenge!

01.26.18

This is the day we drove the Road to Hana.  It was amazing.  I swam in so many bodies of water!  Hah!

The first place we stopped at was Twin Falls, and I snapped a photo of Malachi that I then sketch-painted once we were back at the condo:

I mean it's not bad, per se, but I craved more definition.

It just wasn't doing it for me, tho', so I added in some line work to the foreground, and now I like it much better.

Those roots were too cool not to define.

01.27.18

SUPER king-ish!

I had a story seed plant itself in my brain this day, but I wasn't in a position to write, so I painted one of the characters, instead.  He's the High King.  And he's totes gonna' die.  Sorry High King.  Don't worry: your baby sister will avenge you.  Probably.

01.28.18

The day started out promising, with Nathan and I heading down to the beach at 0700 for our snorkeling date while his sister watched TLG.  But instead we had a date that consisted of me spraining my right ankle on an ocean-hidden rock and ripping open my left shin (on the same rock!  Talent!) and then driving to get pain killers, hydrogen peroxide, and so many bandages.  ::sigh::  I spent the rest of the day with it propped up, reading my book.  I did not sketch, I did not paint.  I feel zero guilt over this.

01.29.18

I had hoped to swim the morning before we left, but the previous day's adventures ruled that right the hell out.  Damn it.  Anyway, Sunday was another 12+ hour travel day, made extra miserable by my inability to carry things or really walk at all (thank goodness for airport wheelchairs!)  I didn't even manage a sketch.  Again: zero guilt felt.

I do, however, have paintings for the past three days, but they're going to have to wait until tomorrow, because Bedtimes, she is a'callin'.

Losing Six Inches

My hair has been getting absolutely out of control, lately.  It's the longest it's ever been- long enough to sit on- and while it is lovely and definitely fulfilling a girlhood dream, it's also a giant pain in my ass.

So today I decided to do something about that.

PS behold my awesome socks.

 Melanie (my amazing stylist) said, "So you're wanting to take about four inches off?"

"Four or six, whatever it takes to keep it looking healthy and full.  I trust you."

Melanie decided that six inches what what was needed, and snicker-snack, off it went.  (Well, snicker-snack after about an hour of applying/setting/rinsing dye).

It was incredible how much lighter my head felt!

My nails are shameful.  Please don't judge too harshly.

What's even more incredible is how... short it feels.  I mean I look at my reflection and I honestly feel like I have little girl hair.  I run my fingers through it, or brush it, and it's like... "I have no hair!"

That, of course, is ridiculous, since I very obviously have hair that still-qualifies as "ultra-long".

And yet.

I'm looking forward to settling into the haircut, when it just feels "normal" instead of "cropped".  I think it'll take about two weeks to adjust.

(That being said, it is awesome that I no longer have to be suuuuuper careful in the bathroom.  Also that it's no longer dragging all over the floor any time I sit or bend over.)

My (Young) Heroes

It's been a while since I've really injured myself- not since before I got pregnant, really- so I suppose it was about time.

I wasn't doing anything particularly awe-inspiring or epic this time (although my climbing bros made up an elaborate story for me via text, involving angry bears and bees) not even running.  I'd been running, playing Chase with Grasshopper and Elk in the cul-de-sac outside their house, but when I went down I was just... walking.  Walking along all innocently, when a curb-gremlin reached out and grabbed me.

Down I went, with a POP and a shriek (kudos for me because I did not scream obscenities in the presence of my 5-and-2-year-old nephews), immediately rolling to my back like a cockroach and yelling "Get your Uncle Jeff!"

Now, this must have been a supremely confusing bit of instruction for the boys, since their uncle is Nathan, and Jeff is their father's name, but Grasshopper dutifully took off at a run to get help, and little Elk came over to me (still writhing on the ground) and held my hand so I wouldn't be scared.

My sweet little heroes.

Soon enough both Nathan and Jeff appeared, by which time I'd managed to sit up and discover that my ankle was 100% non-weight-bearing.  So it was good there were two of them, because they both carried me up the ridiculously steep hill to the house (and Jeff cemented himself as Best Brother-In-Law by saying, "Why, you're not heavy at all!")

The timing on this is... not ideal.  We have a wedding to go to tomorrow, and a flight home the day after that.  And I'm beginning to suspect that I'm going to need to go back to Urgent Care in the morning, because I still can't put any weight on it.

::sigh::

Can't say this vacation hasn't been exciting, anyway.

Visiting Ghost Opa and Other Bonding Experiences

Today I did something that is, no getting around it, pretty damn weird.

I took my kid to a cemetery to take smiling photos with him on my father's grave (and also over my grandparents' graves).

Yeah yeah yeah, understandable, whatever- still weird.  Get use to it, kid: yours will be a lifetime of this sort of weirdness.

Anyway, after that we came back to my mom's house and did the A#1 thing I had planned to do while we were in Alabama in freaking August:

SWIMMING!

 Yaaaaay!  Now granted it started raining literally the moment we got in the pool, so we were not exactly having the sun-soaked experience I'd envisioned, but whatever we were swimming.  I even put my new suit to the test by doing a few dives: it held up.

After Neeps was put to bed, Nathan and I hit the town- specifically a nice little pub downtown.  We spent much of our date marveling over the fact that we were able to be on it in Prattville: this little town has changed a lot since we were teenagers.

We shut the place down (not hard to do on a weeknight) and then went for a walk on the waterfront.  Eventually we sat on a bench and creek/moon/pokemon-hunter watched for a while.  All in all, not a bad way to spend an evening in a (no-longer-)small southern town.

Jabber Jaw

I've been  having slowly worsening jaw pain over the past few months (feels like my jaw is off-track, more than anything), so I decided to go see my dentist about it.

She did an x-ray and says there's nothing wrong mechanically wrong, which makes her think it's tied to the muscles (especially since pressing on said muscles brings some relief).

And then she recommended a night guard.

A $500 piece of plastic that is not covered by insurance.

To which I said, "And what exactly is the difference between this and what I can get at the drug store for twenty bucks?"

She proceeded to give me an answer (which ended with, "I'd rather have my patients do nothing than use a drug-store mouth guard"), to which I replied, "Yeah I'ma have to think about this," because, Gentle Reader, I am 99.9% positive this has nothing to do with my clenching my jaw at night.  All day long, certainly, but not at night, because morning is the only time I don't have pain, and can actually close my jaw all the way.  Which I did tell her, but apparently she... didn't listen?  Or maybe didn't believe me?  For real, what is it with medical professionals dismissing my observations on my body and instead just going for their stock answer?

So I'm feeling frustrated, and have prescribed myself my own treatment to try out.

1) Consciously relaxing my jaw throughout the day
2) Avoiding leaning my jaw on my hand, which I've been in the habit of doing while pumping
3) Making an effort to chew on the painful side (my theory here is that, because I've been chewing on the right side for like a year due to tooth-pain, I've screwed up my alignment)
4) Bringing meditation back into my life in an attempt to help me deal with stress better so that I'm not clenching so much in the first place

If this doesn't work, then I'll try a mouthguard.

But still probably not the $500 one.

Fair Witness

One of my all-time favorite books is Stranger in a Strange Land, by Robert Heinlein.  In this book there is the concept of a professional "Fair Witness", a person who is trained to observe events and report exactly- and only- what they actually witness.  For example, at one point in the book a Fair Witness is asked what color a house is, and she replies "It's white on this side." (emphasis mine) It is then explained that she does not make the assumption that the rest of the house is white.  She does not give extrapolation or opinion- only observed fact.

I absolutely fell in love with this concept as a younger person, because it made so much sense to me.  It resonated with me, and with the way my brain works.  I know that I annoy the hell out of most people with my oft-repeated motto, "Precision of language is important!" but it is.  Precision matters.

But most people do not want precision.  They want broad, easy strokes.  And this can make life very awkward for me, indeed.  At times during my childhood it made it downright miserable- other children can be cruel to peers who are different, and using polysyllabic words at a young age certainly marked me as different.  But even more than that, certain adults don't know how to deal with children who are as smart- or smarter- than they are, and some of those adults react by attempting to put said children "in their place".  The world can be terribly lonely when you are surrounded by peers and "superiors" who are all telling you that the way you're acting- the way you are- is showing off and mean and wrong.

But that's another blog entry entirely.

The point is, I have a history of saying things that alienate people, all because I tend to forget that the average person doesn't care about precision in their day-to-day interactions.  They only care that you hit the proper steps of social ritual.  And although I've gotten better about it, I still occasionally fail to switch out of logical-Vulcan mode.

I failed today.

A friend of mine asked me,

"Am I a good person?"

And instead of responding like a normal person would, by saying, "Of course you're a good person!" and thereby giving them the reassurance they were searching for, I said, thoughtfully,

"Well, I  don't know."  I went on to explain that I wasn't sure anyone could ever know whether or not another person was good, that the most I could do was comment on the behaviors I'd observed, and that they seemed like the person in question was probably a good person.  But I couldn't know.  And while I'm saying these things, my mind is whirling with thoughts like, "What is good?  I don't even know that I'm a good person- I'm more likely a neutral person who occasionally does good things," (any time I take those, "What's your Alignment?" quizzes I get "true neutral", if that tells you anything).

And then, suddenly, I realize that my friend is looking at me.  Looking at me in that, "You just failed a test of basic social niceties" way.  And then they sort of try to brush the whole thing off, but can tell that actually I've really hurt their feelings.  And I feel awful, because I absolutely didn't mean to hurt their feelings, and if they had phrased the question just slightly differently, ("Do you think I'm a good person?" or "Am I a bad person?") I could have answered appropriately, but oh no- whatever part of my psyche that cannot let go of literal-ism is flailing around screaming that if I don't know what the definition of something is, I cannot categorize things using said "something".

But then?  Then I start to feel angry.  Because why the hell do people have to take things personally when they aren't personal?  Why do people have to be so sloppy with language?  And why can't people just ask for what they actually want, rather than making me have to guess at their stupid normal emotions and react "appropriately"?

But then I realize that I'm just going into defensive mode, myself, getting angry to mask the discomfort of having unintentionally hurt my friend.  So I shake it off, apologize, and try to explain myself- but the brusque way they're speaking indicates that they don't really get it.  In fact I'm pretty sure they're still thinking that I think they're a jerk.

::sigh::

Oh well.  Tomorrow is another day.






(In all fairness, sometimes I'm just plain self-centered/oblivious.  It's a pretty major personal failing, and I'm working on it.  I've been working on it for over a decade.  Theoretically someday I'll get better about it.  Hopefully.)

Kablooey!

The scene:

A professional woman in her mid-thirties has just put in her order at the pizza counter of an upscale grocery market.

Cashier: You can pay for that now, or if you want to do some shopping you can pay when you pick up!

Woman: That's okay, I don't want anything else, thanks!

The woman pays, then wanders about the store a bit.  She comes to a display of sodas in glass bottles and decides, on a whim, to pick up two to go with dinner.  She returns to the counter and sets them down with a rueful grin.

Woman:  Guess I was wrong about that whole not wanting anything else thing!

Cashier: (laughs) That's not a problem!

The cashier rings her up, and the woman pays.

Cashier: Do you need a bag?

Woman: (reaching into her purse) No, that's okay, I have one!

The woman unfurls a black fabric bag, printed all over with white moose.  As she reaches for the sodas, she accidentally knocks one, and it tips over onto the counter-

only to SHATTER IN EXPLOSION!

The woman and the cashier stare at one another, dumbly, blood-orange flavored soda water dripping from the counter and their faces.

Woman: (eyes huge) ...I...I...I am so sorry!

***

I don't know who was the most traumatized- me, her, or the little boy standing two people back from me.  (He kept saying to his dad, "That was so scary!"  His dad, on the other hand, kept his head and went and fetched me a new soda.)  Fortunately no one was really hurt- the cashier had a little cut on her forehead, and I had to pick glass particles off of me, but honestly it's a little shocking how little damage it did.

Well, except to my ego.

Turns Out It's Take-Your-Child-to-Work Day

...which is awesome, because Neeps's nanny was knock-down-drag-out levels of sick today, and since The Captain is out of town and I didn't have any appointments scheduled, I went ahead and brought The Little Gentleman in with me to the office.  I was feeling a teensy bit guilty about it the unprofessionalism of it all, but then I learned that the Universal Committee for Making Every Day a "Thing" had my back, and I embraced it as something totally planned and on purpose and kicked that guilt to the curb.

Going over some reports.  On Elephants, apparently.

Really it only worked because a) he's such an easy-temperament baby b) he's not mobile yet and c) I was able to work on stuff that was easily-interrupted, like non-sensitive admin maintenance and Continuing Education courses.  I did have a few client calls that required more/all of my focus, but thanks to the aforementioned a) & b), it was all okay.  I have so much respect for those parents who work from home and watch their kids, because I would not excel at that in the slightest.

Puzzling out some data.

 All in all it was a pretty good day, right up until my Katie came by with Rabbit for an unexpected late-afternoon visit, and then it became an awesome day.

Misadventures of the Past Twenty-Four Hours

I woke up because Nathan had burned some popcorn.

That's what I thought, anyway, as I lay there in the dark, gagging on the stench.  I peered bleerily at my phone- not quite midnight.  I'd been asleep for about three hours.  And the reek was getting worse.

It's nothing. It's just popcorn, I thought to myself, trying not to be That Paranoid Woman.  But then-

That's not nothing- the smell is too strong... and... chemical?  Oh shit what if Nathan is passed out! Thus did I come flying out of the bed and down the stairs, to a living room hung with greasy gray tendrils of smoke.

Why isn't the fire alarm going off? I thought, rushing into the kitchen to find the source of the smell.  There on the stove, on a burner that was theoretically turned off, were the charred remnants of what had once been chicken and vegetable soup, and a heavy plastic ladle that was melting and burning in the thoroughly ruined pot.

By this point Nathan emerged from his office to see why I was stampeding around the house: the closed door had cut him off completely from the odor (not dead from smoke inhalation- yay!).

We got it taken care of, of course, but the house... the smell is literally nauseating.  Even now, after a full day of open windows, it still smells like an ashtray.  It's horrific.  ::sigh::  Tomorrow's activities will likely include me washing walls...

After that adventure I had a hard time getting back to sleep- my brain wouldn't shut up with the "But what if I hadn't woken up?!" scenarios.  And then of course Neeps woke up for his night-feed, which kept me up even longer.

All of this to say, I did not get a lot of sleep last night, which perhaps explains the events of this morning.

I was scheduled to be part of a photo-shoot for a feature on working moms today (a joint effort by the dynamic women behind A Well Crafted Party and Momma Bear Magazine), something I was very, very excited about.  Since the shoot was taking place a good half hour from where I live, I had Neeps packed up and ready to go early enough that we wouldn't just be on time, we'd be a little early.  We'd been instructed to wear what we'd normally wear for work, but I, in my Motherly Wisdom, was bringing it with me rather than wearing it, because we all know that wrangling infants whilst wearing Office Apparel is a recipe for disaster.

Except (I realized just in time to miss the last exit on our side of the river) I forgot the damn outfit.  (also the damn makeup, jewelry, shoes, and hairbrush, all of which were neatly assembled in a bag so that I could grab it on my way out the door.)  And so I had to cross the river, exit, turn around, get back on the interstate to recross the river to get back home and retrieve the bag, and then start out again.  Normally this wouldn't have been so terrible- an extra 15 minutes, max- but traffic had been really heavy and slow on the way south the first time, and on the way south the second time it was at a literal standstill because of course they raised the bridge.

In the end it took me over an hour from the time I left the house (the first time) to the time I actually made it to the photo shoot.  Not my finest hour.  Although to tell the truth I couldn't help but laugh that me having a child didn't actually have anything whatsoever to do with my tardiness to the "working moms" event.

The day went a great deal more smoothly from that point onward- I loved hanging out and chatting with other working mothers- those ladies were inspiring as hell!  And of course I never get tired of hearing people admire my baby.  I'm really excited to see the results of the shoot, and you can be certain I'll link you guys to the feature when it comes out!

Potential First Phrases

Family legend has it that I didn't have a first word- I had a first phrase.  As such, I've been wondering what Neeps's first phrase might someday be.  Given that children tend to repeat what they hear the most, I've compiled some contenders from my own repertoire:

General Phrases:

-I love you!
-My BAY-bee!
-You're so cute!
-Nom nom nom!
-Soakin' wet! 

Around the House:

-Mommy will be right with you.
-Let's go see daddy!
-Do you want your pacifighter?
-No, bad kitty!
-Damn it, dog!

In the Car:

-Almost there!
-Watch it, asshole!
-Fucking commit!

 ...maybe I should get him some earplugs for the car...

My Milk Ducts (Lyrically Speaking)

(with apologies to Kelis)

My milk ducts brings all the boys to the yard,

'Cos they're like
All super engorged,
Damn right they're super engorged.
I can feed him,
And it's free of charge.

(Repeat)

 

I know he wants it,
The thing that makes me,
What babies go crazy for-
They lose their minds,
When I unbind.
I think its time...

 

La la la la la,
Warm it up,
La la la la la,
The boy is waiting

(Repeat)

 

My milk ducts brings all the boys to the yard,
'Cos they're like
All super engorged,
Damn right they're super engorged,
I can feed him,
And it's free of charge.

(Repeat)

 

I can see he's hungry.
You want me to teach thee
Techniques that feed this boy.
It can't be fought;
Just know, milk will spot.
(Pump if you're smart)

 

La la la la la,
Warm it up,
La la la la la,
The boy is waiting

(Repeat)

 

My milk ducts brings all the boys to the yard,
'Cos they're like
All super engorged,
Damn right they're super engorged,
I can feed him,
And it's free of charge.

(Repeat)

 

Oh, once you get involved,
Everyone will look your way, so,
You must maintain your child,
Same time maintain your sweet flow,
Just get the perfect blend,
That's what you have within,
When next his face is squint,
Then he's picked up your scent,

 

La la la la la,
Warm it up,
La la la la la,
The boy is waiting

(Repeat)

 

My milk ducts brings all the boys to the yard,
'Cos they're like
All super engorged,
Damn right they're super engorged,
I can feed him,
And it's free of charge

(Repeat)

Damn right, it's better than yours.

Pieces of the Action

Happy Turkey Liberation Day!

here comes trouble

We spent ours with the Trout family, and I popped three pills just to make absolutely certain that I'd be able to handle all the gluten.  Now I just wish there was something to help me with the sugar...


And now, gentle readers, gather close and I shall tell you a tale of Ham.

Earlier this week I asked Papa Trout what we might bring to the table, and he said, "Could you bring a ham or something?" and I said, "Done!" because I had literally just won a ham from a contest at work.  Big ol' package sitting on my desk, proclaiming itself, "Honey Baked Ham!"  Providence!

So this morning Nathan and I start to unbox the ham, because we want to heat and glaze it before we head out to the Trout Homestead.  And as Nathan is unwrapping it, I say, "Huh, it sure is a little ham.  And... kind of... flat..." and then Nathan takes off the last bit of covering, and...

It is a cheesecake.

It is 11AM on Thanksgiving, and the ham I have promised to bring for 20+ people is a cheesecake!

And that is how Nathan found himself running to WalMart (which was thankfully open) and buying literally the last ham in the entire store.  He came back in brandishing it proudly and I said, "Well it's a good thing God likes the Trouts," to which he replied, "What about me?" and I said, "He likes you too, but he likes them better: they've had longer to curry favor," which apparently my husband takes issue with but whatever.

Anyway, I stuck cloves all over that ham and then popped it the oven.  We took a look at the glaze that came with it and said, "Yeuch," so Nathan remedied the situation by making a superior glaze using honey, brown sugar, and stoutly-steeped pumpkin-spice tisane.  It was phenomenal.

All this to say, we arrived 18 minutes late, but we arrived with a ham that was actually a ham, damn it.  And people loved it.  And the day was saved.  By Nathan.  Who is the best.

Harsh Light of Day

I went to a bachelorette party last night.

mistakes were made

Prepare the Way

Tomorrow night is my Katie's bachelorette party, which I am hosting here at the house.  It's going to be a co-ed Murder Myth-tery party (that I wrote myself because I can't ever seem to do things the easy way), complete with shiny "gemstones" to be used as in-game currency.  And because I had to know how many there were in order to divide them evenly amongst the players, I had to count them.  And obviously if you are going to count rainbow-colored glass ingots (or "dragons' tears", as I grew up calling them), you lay them out in proper color order.  And this is how you discover that Orange is the rarest color (less than half of the next rarest color, which was Red in case you were curious) and that Light Blue is the most common color (by about ten more than Green don't judge me) and that the Greens and the Dark Blues are considerably larger than the other colors, like to the point where your lines won't go straight WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE MANUFACTURERS?!

::cough::

Yeah.  Anyway.  They're pretty.

It's okay: I want to put them in MY mouth, too.

ReDetox: Day Four (or: Palms and Coconuts)

I went to visit my Katie this evening, and it was the sort of visit that has no aim beyond being together.  As such, we went a'wandering the streets of Portland, soaking up the lingering rays of sun as they gave a final dazzle to glass storefronts, and keeping an eye out any adventure that might present itself.

We were not disappointed.

Psychic! declared the sign.  Katie looked at it, then at me, one expressive eyebrow raised.

"Why not?" I said.  "We've always said we were going to go to one, and we never, ever have."

So we make our way into the building, and a Brand New Experience.

Katie goes first, so I sit in the lobby, creating doodles and flipping through a book on back health.  About twenty minutes later she comes out, and it's my turn.

All I've signed up for is the basic palm-reading.  I read my own tarot cards, and I know I will not be able to keep my mouth shut if she tries to tell me something they're not actually saying.  I may be skeptical, but I have enough sense of fun (and hope) to go in with a playful spirit.  At the very least I'm hoping to be wowed by her powers of subtle observation.

Alas, it is not to be.  Even though I gamely feed her plenty of information about myself for her to turn into mystical revelations, she sticks with the basics- and they feel like rote basics, at that.  The only time she seems to go off the prompts cards playing on her eyelids is when she tells me that I will be a mother- to two healthy babies, no less.  (Query: can I get my money back when I hit menopause if I'm still child-free?)

Afterwards Katie and I head over to the Blue Moon to compare notes on our fate.  We laugh hysterically over the aspects that we have word-for-word in common, and agree that we'd make much better psychics than that.

Anyway.

I had lamb burgers on butter lettuce for dinner tonight, and for dessert I tried my hand at making coconut butter.

It's hard to make a jar of white stuff look like... anything other than a jar of white stuff.

It's mighty tasty on it's own, but I also dipped a strawberry in it (really good), and then got crazy and dipped a carrot in it (even better).  Next time I may try Melissa Joulwan's recipe.

ReDetox: Day Three (or: Porcupining the Monkey)

I had my very first experience with an acupuncture this afternoon, and I have to say, I'm a fan.  Even if there's nothing to Qi and meridians, I sure as hell got a great nap out of it.  A nap full of needles, but a restful nap, nonetheless.  The amount of ink adorning my skin might lead you to infer that I do not have any sort of needle-related hang-ups, and you'd be correct.  As such it was more interesting than freaky, especially marking how the needles felt different in different locations.  Most of the placements felt like a) nothing at all or b) a tiny pinch and then nothing at all.  The needle in my right index finger, however, sent a jolt of electricity- like a static shock- through the digit (it did the same thing upon removal).  The needle in my right wrist actually hurt a great deal, and she had to nudge it twice before it faded into the same non-awareness as the rest of the needles.  Then she placed one between my brows, and while it didn't hurt, exactly, I was quite aware of it.  The one in my hairline, however, was fine.

"Wow, my abdomen is so warm!" I marveled after she placed four needles into it.  I hadn't expected such dramatically immediate results.

"That's because I have a heater pointed towards it." I could hear the smile in her voice, and we both started giggling.

She let me be for a bit, so I could start getting into the relaxation groove, but of course my brain would not shut up (I'd left my phone and wallet, at the office and home, respectively, so I had plenty to be anxious about).  She came back in to check on me and said, "How are you doing?"

"Just trying to quiet my monkey mind," I said.

"Oh!  Here, this should help," and she put two more needles in my feet.

Sure enough, it helped.

Witchery.

Eventually I drifted off to sleep, waking twice to the soft gong that was sounding, and then when she came back into the room to de-needle me.  The first one she removed was the one between my brows, which startled me because I'd forgotten it was there.  So now we know that I am, in fact, capable of forgetting that I have about three inches of stainless steel wire poking out of my face.

Anyway.

Nathan grilled up some pork tenderloin for dinner...

Medallions!

and then I had a baked yam with coconut oil and cinnamon!

How did I live before coconut oil?

Technically the yam was supposed to be part of my dinner (and therefore done in a savory manner) but it took way longer than anticipated, so I just made it dessert.

Giving it Up

As 2012 was winding down, Nathan made the following unprompted statement:

"I'm not going to eat refined sugar or drink alcohol in 2013."

"That's great, babe," I said, because it is.  Those things are in no way good for you.  And then, because I have experience with Giving Shit Up, I added,  "But... for a whole year?  Are you sure you don't want to just start with a month?"  See, I was afraid he'd get overwhelmed and frustrated at the prospect of a whole year without these things he was accustomed to having on a daily basis, and end up not even cutting back, in the long run.

"Nope."  (Nathan does not over-think things.  It is a definite strength.)

"Okay then."  And I said I'd do it too, to support him, because I know how hard it is not to be able to indulge in what everyone else is doing.  Far, far easier to show a United Front in social situations.

So that's been going on for the past thirty-six days.  And as February drew closer I knew that I wanted to clean up my act in other ways, as well.  I'd been spending way too much time on Facebook, and was fully cognizant of the fact that I needed to cut back.

"Maybe I'll have a FB-free February," I mused, but then realized that with the impending birth of Seamonkey it's just an unreasonable expectation to imagine I won't be on there posting a zillion pictures.  No point in setting myself up to fail.  "Alright then, I'll give it up for a week.  And then after that maybe I'll just check it once or twice a week."

Satisfied with this plan, I faced Friday, February First just full of good intentions.  In fact, I woke up that morning and the very first thing to pop into my head was, Don't check Facebook!

And I didn't.  I had several urges throughout the day, but I resisted.  Same thing on Saturday, maybe a little worse.  And then it was Sunday, and Nathan and I took Isis out for a hike.  And I took an excellent shot of Nathan and all I wanted was to post it on Facebook.  And also to check things.  All the things.  People had been tagging me in things!  As I waited for Nathan in the car I said to myself,

"Self, I am a grown-ass woman.  I can check Facebook if I bloody well want to," and just as my thumb moved towards the icon, Self said,

"Seriously?  Seriously?  You can't even go three full days without checking Facebook?"

And Paranoia reared up and I put my phone away.  Because damn.

(Nathan says this looks "exactly like me".  Soooo... perhaps my Best Self Portrait Ever?)

There is addiction in my family.  I've known this since I was a little girl, and thus I've always kept a keen eye on my own addictive tendencies.  Any time I feel I'm getting too reliant on something, I quit cold turkey.  Alcohol, video games, recreational drugs- all things I've walked away from just to prove to myself that I could, just to prove that nothing rules me but myself.  I know I'm lucky that I can do this- not everyone can- and my paranoia that someday I won't be able to is probably unfounded.  But maybe it's not- maybe it's only because of my long practice of giving things up, dating back to my teenage years (soda) that I'm still able to do so.  Who knows?

Nathan got into the car and I related my little conversation with Self.

"So what you're telling me is that giving up Facebook is harder than giving up sugar?"

Apparently so.

(Although looking back at when I initially had to give up all forms of sugar, perhaps not...)

Obligatory Left-Handed Post

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am so obviously ambidextrous:

Word.

::sigh::  No.  No I am not.  Oh well.

Weird Day

It was, as you may have surmised from the title, a weird sort of day.  The sort of day where you end up standing in an awkward stance, staring out at... who knows what.

It's a good thing I did this drawing while at work.

There's plenty  I could say about it, but I'll just give you the lowest and the highest.

The lowest is that I have once again injured myself.  By being stupid.  I strained some tendons in my right hand, so I won't be climbing for at least a week, and we'll have to wait and see if I'll be drawing for a few days.  Needless to say, this makes me Grumpy.

On the other hand, this evening we went to the Portland Cello Project's holiday concert (Beck the Halls Holiday Spectacular!), and it was awesome.  I am in all sorts of Amazing Moods because of that.  This is our second year going, and I have to say that I think it now officially qualifies as a Holiday Tradition for us.

Yay Holiday Traditions!