I Have Plans For The New Year! I don’t have resolutions, but I definitely have plans, and maybe a few goals too. Resolutions are for people who don’t really want to expend too much effort, because they know that resolutions made for new year […]
Nothing to do with big butts, promise. Mine is being carefully kept in check by energetic walking and playing with my dogs, 3 times a day, and a run every second day. I’m also going to get back into my yoga… might have to do it in a separate room, of course, because according to Berners: if you are on the ground, you are on their turf and they pile on top of you in a big happy furry love flop. Not so nice when you’re trying to go from Downward Dog into Plank etc.
Our Dog Food Adventure unfortunately came to a painful end, after Gina developed a horribly inflamed stomach and colon and was pooping blood and had almost permanent diarrhoea for 2 days. She was so stoic and polite about it, that I don’t really know when the problem started, and only saw that something was wrong when it got that bad. I felt terrible for my poor, gentle girl. But she’s all fixed up now, after 2 weeks of various medications to soothe her stomach and colon lining, to put back the good bacteria in her tummy and some antibiotics to kill any nasties that decided to take root while she was under the weather. I switched her to “sensitive stomach” prescription diet and she is doing impressively well on it. Stomach is settled, good poops, she seems more energetic and full of vim and vigour – but that’s also because the weather is finally turning to Berner weather: icy cold, lots of rain, lots of puddles, mounds of fallen leaves under every tree! Azzie also had tummy issues with the diet I had them on – but nothing as severe. She had ups and downs and it was highly unpredictable which way her tummy would go each day. She also developed an itchy problem. So I switched her over to “sensitive skin” prescription diet and she is doing remarkably well too 🙂 Besides the occasional “dietary indiscretion” which causes some tummy woes, she is in excellent health. The itching subsides during the day, but I think there is something else she is allergic too (besides GRASS, which she LOVES to roll around in when it’s wet!) in the other food or treats that they get, so I’m in the process of elimination now to see when the itching stops – until then, she gets a Loratadine 10mg tablet every evening to help her relax enough to sleep. (Vet approved, don’t worry, and the absolute mildest dose I can give)
So unfortunately, the Dog Food Adventure is over – some dogs do very well on raw diets, some do very well on “human food” diets, but my girls just need to stick to something tried and tested. They are now very healthy, and very happy, and this makes me a happy furry mommy.
What else…. hmmm *thinks*
I’ve put all my items up in my shop again, but haven’t had any clients ordering vintage clothing so far…
I am strangely both happy and sad about that. The perfectionist in me grimaces at the idea that I will get an order and I would not get it PERFECT first time, in time, so I don’t WANT any orders! But the vintage lover and creative side of me says PLEASE! Bring it!
I tried making stuff for myself (I have a fabric stash… *hangs head*) but I just seem to lack the inclination. I did finish a nice wiggle skirt, done in black micro suede, but as usual, I did it “my way” and it came out nothing like the way it was meant to. It’s like when I make for myself, my perfectionist self wanders off to a back room and ignores me until it’s “all over” and she can come out and say “told you so!”
I do want to make some casual tops and some yoga pants, just for fun. I have some GREAT patterns. Some are not “vintage” inspired – they just looked simple and useful.
I was pondering trying NaNoWriMo this year. I just wish my brain could stick to one idea. I have so many “snippets” but I just can’t seem to “see” further than the scene that I initially write.
My husband is away, again. I miss him terribly. Very little contact, so it’s very quiet in the evenings for me and the girls.
I read. I watch my tv series. I watch movies.
He might be going away again, quite soon after he gets back from this one.
Not sure how I feel about that yet.
I just take it day by day. Try and fill the hours after sundown.
I’ve also, after much thought, decided to go back to being vegetarian. (lacto-ovo, for now, in case anyone cares about the technical stuff) after many years “break” from it.
I initially decided I wanted to be vegetarian at the age of 16. It lasted 10 years, and then due to various things, my diet was NOT up to par, and I became anaemic and under weight and very weak and had terribly low blood pressure (even more so than I normally do) and I finally saw the doctor and she said I _have_ to either fix up my vegetarian diet (which I did not see happening, due to the circumstances at the time, which I won’t go in to now) or start eating meat. I chose meat. Now I will admit that I like the taste of meat – I am a meat eater, no doubt – and that’s not why I chose to go veg last time, nor this time. I simply couldn’t handle the inner mental/emotional battle that I seem to have with myself about eating animals whenever I think about it too much.
I’m not going to evangelise to my husband and force him to come over to the “Veg Side” – we have tofu – this is not an activist thing, or a soap box thing. It’s a personal thing and has nothing to do with him. I will continue making him DELICIOUS food, with meat, and I will also make myself delicious food, without meat. Simple as that. More work, but that’s totally OK. I’ve been eating meat-less for about a week or so now, and I must admit, I feel great. I’ve lost 2 or 3 pounds (the bathroom scale is set to pounds, to help me learn the silly American way 🙂 and the stove is set to Fahrenheit) and I feel lighter. Of course it could be my imagination, the weather, and the exercise 🙂 I’ll take whatever I get, really!
I’ve also tried to start incorporating meditation in my day. Just 10 or 15 minutes to start. Some days I forget, or I just don’t “feel like it” – but the days I do make a plan, I feel calmer and more patient (especially with the dogs, and annoying people)
It will take time to reach a proper meditation level to feel any REAL benefits (like yoga) but I know it works, as I used to do it a lot when I was on my own. It would take the form of a silent ride, sometimes, or a walk with the dogs in the rain, with not another soul around, or a longer than usual run with music in my ears and the wind blowing me forward.
I have rediscovered Debussy (not just Claire de Lune) and the dogs and I spent an afternoon relaxing (they were snoring, happily) while we enjoyed his music.
PFC Jacqui Winston was by no means a _smart_ woman. She followed orders, to the letter, because she trusted that her CO knew what he was talking about. Her loyalty and unquestioning obedience was already legend. Her squad knew it, the platoon knew it. You told “Jumping Jac” to get something done, she did it exactly as she was told to. No questions asked.
What was also quietly becoming legend, was her uncanny ability to smell trouble and her nearly supernatural skill for getting her squad out of it.
Sometimes she reacted so fast her buddies would swear that she could slow time. A common thing heard when asked about a mission would be “one minute she was there next to me, the next she was up the stairs and she’d be giving the all clear…” or “…I swear I was running into the building, but I found myself running back to the humvee and then the whole building went up like the 4th of july!”
PFC Winston talked slow, like a southern girl should, and walked (even in her battle-rattle) like a southern girl should. She was blonde and blue-eyed and tanned and toned. She once had a nickname “The Cheerleader”, but it was smacked out of the mouth of anyone who said it, by her squad. It didn’t last long, and she never found out about it. Nobody made fun of “Jumping Jac”. She’d saved too many of their asses, too many times.
She was oblivious to the awed looks and under-the-breath comments of turtle-heads and lifers alike, around base. She never left base, unless she was deployed. She didn’t seem to have any friends who came to visit. She never made any phonecalls off base. She wore jeans and tshirts when at home and her gear at all other times. Even her squad didn’t know much about her except that she was from a tiny village, not even on the map, in southern Alabama.
Her pain sits there on her shoulders. Like a putrescent, bloated thing. Weighing her down, making it difficult to lift her head. I can see it. Her work area is sparse and uncluttered and neat. Her work is frantic and chaotic but it works. It always works.
I can see the top of her brunette head from over here in my cubicle. She is so still. You wouldn’t know that anything was going on in her soul, just by looking at her. Her mind a whirlwind of screaming and despair and thoughts like razors.
How do I know this? She is my twin. But she does not look like me. At all. She is tall and thin and pale and delicate. I am small and muscled and tanned and blonde. She never smiles. I am known for my sunny disposition. Are we related? No. Our ancestors are not even from the same continent. She is my twin because she has the other half of my soul, and I have half of hers. Silly, yes. But I can think of no other explanation. I know her so well, as if I was inside her head. I can hear her thinking sometimes. If she lifted her eyes up at any point in a conversation with me, she would know me as well. But she never does. She looks at your shoulder, your hands, the floor in front of her feet, or, if she is feeling daring, your lips.
Long ago, when she was young, she did something very bad. This guilt covers her like ash. Makes her grey inside. Later she did something so good for someone else, that she is now always in pain. But she doesn’t think that this pain makes up for the bad thing she did. I keep trying to speak to her, to get her to look into my eyes. I want her to know that she’s not a bad person, she is just human. Show me one person who has nothing to regret in their life? Their entire life? Can you be sure?
Sometimes when it’s raining outside, we sit here in our cubicles at lunch time. Sometimes she works. Mostly, she just sits there at her desk, staring at something so far away I can’t even imagine what it is.
Today, she is staring. It is dark and wet and wild outside. A real winters day.
Today I am going to speak with her. The rain makes me brave.
My heart is thumping as I stand up, coffee cup in my hand, and try to stroll over nonchalantly. I get to the opening of her cubicle and pause, pretending to look in my coffeecup at something. Her head lifts slightly and she turns it a little to look at my shoes. She is very pale today.
“Join me for a cuppa, Bailey?” I squeak. Clear my throat.
She winces when I say her name. I can see she is about to shake her head. But today, something is different. She seems to be holding her breath as she nods slowly. Her hand shaking, she grabs her big yellow mug with the rediculous smiley face on it. She pushes back her chair and stands slowly. Like a piece of origami unfolding. She stands straight and towers over me.
I can see Green and Beatman out of the corner of my eye. Their mouths are agape.
Bailey slowly raises her eyes and looks at my lips.
“Shall we?” I ask and turn towards the staff kitchen. She doesn’t look me in the eyes, but that’s alright, because I can see something else.
Bailey is smiling.