January got crazy. Then it got flared. Now I’m just trying to dig out.
Which, I guess that answers my question – it *wasn’t* just stress and depression causing the flares and the fatigue. What a fucking bummer. But now I know, or some such Zen bullshit. On the plus side, it seems maybe the problems I was having with fruits and salads may have been dairy related. I’m on my third bag of salad in a week, and there haven’t been any ill effects. I never thought I’d be this fucking happy about lettuce.
I have been doing the art – I won’t post them all but here’s a few of my faves:
Been snapping some pics, too:
Next time I’ll have some pics of aprons, and maybe even a few other handmade items. Or more art. Or news of stories finished and posted/published. It’s going to be another crazy month. If I can just get on top of this eight ball coming at me …
Oh it has been shamefully long this time. My first post of the year and we’re over two weeks in. In my defense I’ve been stupidly busy.
I don’t even know where to start. Every January I participate in a month of challenges for The Lilypad – my plan was to update the blog every day with my piece for the day. That tanked when I got behind pretty much straight out of the gate. It took forever to get caught up and it didn’t even last. I’m behind again, worse this time.
It’s not quite my own doing; this is the first year I’m having to work the challenges in around trying to make money and being the sole caretaker for the house and occupants. It never fails, when I finally do get around to opening Gimp, someone or something needs my attention.
But aside from all that, I am hamstringing myself to one degree or another. Instead of just getting each challenge done I’m stressing myself over making it *art*. I want each one to be a masterpiece and when it isn’t, I double down on the next one – and I do this knowing that the harder I try the further away I get.
Anyway, I’m here, I’m queer and I’ll post most of what I have so far (I’ll forgo the really crappy ones)
I was going to add more, talk a bit about the ones I really like, but it’s 3 am and I’m yawning my head off. I can’t yet go to bed but I can go work on the next one – see if I can get a bit more caught up. Probably not, but this next one is not too difficult so maybe.
So it’s late, or early, however you look at it, and I should be in bed but nope. Got to come here first and unload cos it’s been a few days and my head is about to explode.
So, Idk, I guess I thought the washer would be it. Like, announcement made and received, we’re good to go, yeah? But that’s not how it works with Himself, which is a fact I apparently forget.
My tweet from earlier: You know things are back to “normal” when the camera strap you *just had to order* turns out to be one big fucking dash goblin.
And it is. Hoo fucking boy is it.
This is what I based my purchase off of:
Thing is, I love the colors in this, but some of the design elements are ones I don’t normally care for – especially the cactus. I put this in and out of my cart at least half a dozen times, always talking myself out of it cos yeah, the blue and the red are good, and so are the flowers, but cacti … that’s always a deal breaker.
Until I got tired of arguing with myself (*cough*) about it. I needed a better strap cos the one that came with the camera is worse than a seat belt, and none of the other patterns were interesting enough to spend money on …
And tonight, working on the monthly muse art piece I decided I just had to photograph the fabric, I didn’t have anything close enough.
Turns out the sacred heart wasn’t even the biggest goblin, only the first.
Anyway. The fabric is part of Alexander Henry’s Frida Kahlo line. It comes in black as well and you can even buy a yard or two online, and guess who spent money that she probably should have held on to? I only let myself buy 1 yard, but buy it I did. I can only hope it will be enough for an apron.
And now it’s almost three and I can’t stop yawning, so time to wrap this up. Art, cos I like this one:
Tales of the days I wish
Steak and eggs
Orange liqueur in my coffee
And the God who cares enough to send the very best ones
I keep trying to find something to write here and … I got nothing. Or a bunch of hot garbage. No in-between.
He’s back, a month early when I didn’t even expect him to come back at all. I don’t even care why, whether it’s because he wants to be in on this Grand Adventure, or he simply missed me, or even if it’s becasue he Has Plans For Me.
(I hope he has plans for me. Truly.)
I am a votary who once more has an occupied altar to tend.
The presents just keep on coming. The presence.
Ok I’m getting nowhere with this – too much to say and not enough words to say it. Besides, I have a God to go worship.
So on to the gratitudes:
Today I’m grateful for:
Telling someone I haven’t seen in a few years that my husband left me and not even thinking about crying over it
It’s time to move on, time to get going What lies ahead, I have no way of knowing But under my feet, baby, grass is growing It’s time to move on, it’s time to get going
Indeed it is.
I think I’m ready to do that now. It’s been just over four months since he walked out of the house, three since I realized he wasn’t coming back – since I admitted it, internalized it – and now that the initial terror panic has passed and I realize we’re going to come out of this okay – not great, maybe, at least not yet, but definitely okay – I can just relax into this new life, this new happiness.
This is an adventure, one I always wanted but couldn’t justify to myself – now I can have it, without the guilt, without the baggage. Would it be tacky to send him a thank you card, now that we’re talking to each other again? Probably. But maybe not – maybe he would appreciate knowing I don’t hate him. I’m not even mad at him, not any more.
If he hadn’t left I’d still be going through the days miserably numb, like a bug stuck in amber just waiting to suffocate. I didn’t realize just how numb and depressed I had gotten until it started lifting – which really didn’t happen until the last few weeks. Halfway through November I still couldn’t talk to people without crying. Now I can’t talk to them without telling them how happy I am, telling them how many plans I have.
He left me with a (leaky) roof over my head and just enough money to pay the bills and not starve, and I am burning up with ideas of how I can turn it around. It’s all on me, and for months that had me scared enough to puke but now I have my bat in hand and I am fucking ready.
Ok, time is wasting and I still have things to do so time to move on, yeah?
Document Your December, day 3:
And the gratitudes, can’t forget those:
Today I am grateful for
A clean table
Finding the Magician two days in a row
The joy of this song (even if I am still devastated by his death):