Oct. 15th, 2013 | 09:25 pm
My son turned 1 the other day and has grown wonderfully. He is now standing and walking around the room using the chairs and shelves, but if I try to coax him into walking by my hands he promptly sits down and pouts. I wonder when he will reach the stage where he believes he can walk enough to actually let go of the chair...We had a small birthday party for him with cake and hot chocolate with whipped cream and at his daycare they had chocolate muffin that we baked for them. It was really nice.
Right now Adam and I are making granola. It's hilarious because people always call us hippies for some reason and now we're totally living up to that one stereotype of the granola munching hippie... Oh well, can't win them all.. We grow our own vegetables, are thrifty with our funds, care about the environment, bake much of our own bread, buy organic wherever possible, are vegetarians, spend time with our families and friends without technology and we ride our bikes 16 miles a day to work and back. And now we're making friggin' granola. In fact, Adam just opened a bag of organic dark roast coffee :-) H is drinking a bottle of his organic formula and wearing an organic onesie for bed. If that makes us hippies, well, then, whoopdehoop.
My eyesight is deteriorating pretty fast these days. I hate it. I wear contacts every day and now I have to add reading glasses, too, for whenever I am on the computer or reading a book/paper/anything, really. This getting older thing is not my friend.
Jun. 27th, 2013 | 09:12 pm
I have just returned from
this year's graduation ceremony and it feels so sad to say goodbye to my students who I have gotten to know so well over the past 3 years and who I will miss a great deal in the months to come.
It was a nice ceremony with speeches and champagne. 4 of my students were awarded scholarships and 3 were given diplomas for extra credit. I am very proud of them all :-)
This was my 7th ceremony. I am realising that I am getting really old and that I have been a teacher for a long time. It is a fairly odd thing to suddenly realize, but the students who graduated today are 14 years younger than me and could theoretically be my children. That is also a strange feeling. Especially when my actual child is only 8 months old now...
One of my students gave me a bag of saffron that he had bought for me in Turkey :-) I will never have to buy saffron again.
Another student gave me a rose for having been a great teacher. That made me cry a little. So sweet.
I have actually only ever been given presents by one student ever before and that was a beautiful rose the first year I taught. It's always a special gift for a teacher when it comes from a student :-)
Jun. 15th, 2013 | 05:37 pm
I just got a call from my mother telling me that my grandfather of 85 tried to commit suicide this morning by driving in front of a moving train.
He was unsuccessful because the train operator managed to stop the train and not hit him.
My mom and her sisters have made a plan to stay with him at all times of the day until they can get him to his doctor Monday morning. He has already seen a psychiatrist today and has been evaluated by him plus he's been examined by several doctors to see if something wrong other than his wanting to die. They found nothing physically wrong, but the psychiatrist advised him to check himself in to a clinic. This will not happen. He's stubborn as an old bull.
The weird thing is that last night I dreamt about him and we were having this lovely conversation about life and death and I remember saying to him in the dream that I was so happy for him to be joining his brothers so soon. I remember that part of the dream most vividly because we talked about each brother by name and talked about when they each died and how he had missed them.
My family is doing ok, but certain parts of it are behaving absolutely shamefully in that they sold him instead of being supportive and trying to help him find peace when he obviously needs it the most.
Jun. 11th, 2013 | 07:54 pm
It's over. We have sold the damned garden! We didn't get quite what we wanted, but sold it is and that means we're done with it for bloody good.
Jun. 3rd, 2013 | 02:25 pm
Jun. 3rd, 2013 | 02:22 pm
I got a bunch of stuff done and I feel like it looks amazing and that if that can raise the price in connection to a sale then so be it. My entire body is sore like a MFer, but I feel accomplished and ready for the place to be done. I just want it sold, now!
Talked to the lady who raised her voice to me and she was all smiles and fake laughs. I felt like kicking her teeth in, but I can be fake with the best of them. It just shows her as the weakling she is.
Jun. 1st, 2013 | 03:58 pm
For the past 3 years Adam and I have had a plot at a community garden and for about 3 years it has been hell.
We bought it because we lived in an apartment and had no garden and we wanted to grow some of our own food. The idea of a community garden is nice in that it is a community, right? Well, not so much with this one.
It was clear from the start that we did not fit in. The rules there state that you must have at least 50 percent of the plot set aside for food items and we set out to incorporate the flower patches into the food part. This was frowned upon because food is not pretty to look at. We didn't listen to this and continued to grow food where previously only flowers had been. The other people then started telling us how everything we were growing was wrong. That we didn't know what we were doing. That may have been true, but their "advice" never felt like help and more like a neat down. Then we started to let nettles and ground elder grow because, to us, they're a lovely food item. Nettles taste like spinach when blanched. Yummy. But they're nothing but a nasty weed to the people up there and we were told repeatedly to make sure they were gone out else. When we told them that we were growing them for food they looked at us like we'd grown a third arm or something.
Then we found out that we didn't fit in with the others because they would rather sit around getting drunk out of their skulls than anything else. Ok, so our plot did have weeds, but most of them we were planning on eating. To them, though, that was an affront and they threatened to throw us out. So we called in help from my parents and we cleaned the garden up to their standards and were pretty annoyed. Then...
We put in raised beds. That was 2 years ago. I think the other people would have been happier if we had made human sacrifices up there than that we put raised beds on the plot. They complained that it was a blight and that it looked terrible and who would ever want anything like that... Cut to this year and all the plus around ours have raised beds. Oh well, they complained about the need and then what we grew in them.
Then we dug up the entire plot and added new mushroom dirt to it and that was wrong.
Then we put in lots of strawberries and planned onions among the plants. That nearly got us kicked out.
Then we grew dandelions and ate the flowers before they could go to seed. That nearly got us kicked out.
Then we let a rhubarb plant go to seed. That nearly got us kicked out.
Then we were late trimming the hedge and we were nearly kicked out. Then we didn't weed the hehe enough. Guess what almost happened...
There are many more of these little anecdotes, too. My favorite one, actually, was from last year. 2 weeks after we had our son they called us that our garden had too many weeds. This was November. Also 2 weeks before that I had almost died in childbirth and there they were with something that trivial? In fucking November?!
Ok, we will fastforward til today. We've had the plot up for sale for a week or so and had the first showing today. Then the lady in charge, who is a complete bitch, btw, called me with the offer from the interested people and it was a ridiculously low offer compared to what the plot was recently valued at. So I refused it. Then she tells me that I have two weeks to fix the place completely or they will throw us out and just sell the place. She then proceeded to raise her voice to me like I was a small child and threaten me with expulsion from the community garden. I told her not to raise her voice to me and that we will accept nothing under a certain amount for the plot - the end. Then she yelled at me some more and I told her to stop it and hung up.
Turns out she was trying to get some of her friends a cheap plot so she could hang out with them and shoot around getting drunk all day with them.
Only that's not happening. I am not desperate. Which is tough for her.
EDIT: Tomorrow my parents are coming down to help us fix up the plot so it's to their liking and then we will see what happens. I plan to give her a piece of my mind tomorrow, too. Probably not one of prettiest pieces of it, either.
Jan. 24th, 2012 | 02:41 pm
I have begun a new treatment regimen: Rebif 44 3 times a week by subcutaneous injection. I am lucky enough to have been prescribed a nurse to administer the injections for the first few months or until I feel ready to begin doing it myself. The nurse is really nice and very good at doing injections. It doesn't hurt at all when she does it and it is nice to have someone to talk to before and after having the injection.
I have started seeing a psychologist who is meant to help me learn how to cope with having a chronic disease that can't be cured at the current moment in time. It might turn out to be curable in few years, but as of right now, it's only possible to extend the time between relapses by a small amount of time and it is possible to actually heal some of the lesions in the brain, but it is not yet possible to cure the disease so I need a shrink to help me come to terms with that knowledge. The psychologist I have been given (my school has an insurance policy thing which gives us employees access to trained mental professionals if need be)is a specialist in helping people who have chronic illnesses so she should be able to help me. So far, she seems very nice and quite capable, but I've only been at her office once and have only had one session with her so it is hard to judge.
Time flies! I can't believe it's already been 2 months since I was told I have this terrible disease. I've had no ill effects of the new drug and have had no sign of the disease except for the injections 3 times a week. I am healthy and able to do everything I was able to do before being diagnosed and I am even beginning to feel confident that this is not the end of my life after all.
I was certain that getting diagnosed with MS would be the end of life as I knew it and that death would be imminent, but now I can honestly say I am starting to see that that was not the truth. All is not rosy just yet, but it's much better now than 1 month ago. I work a full time job, work out in my spare time and do RPGs for fun. I read a lot of books and I feed ducks at the pond just like before. I am not going to let the disease limit me until it actually starts being limiting. If I do that it doesn't matter if I am actually sick or not, I would be making myself sick with all the worry and sulking around. So far, I am not sick and my body works well. I am fit and happy, but have a faulty brain that might end up crippling me some time in the future. That's then, not now. I have to keep that in the forefront all the time so I don't let myself descend into depression and melancholy.
I have gone through an enormous crisis these past two months and I've been through the same steps you go through when someone dies and I am now closing in on the final steps of accepting my situation. I am not there yet, but it's getting closer by the day. For about 2 months I've been completely unable to plan anything or even remember simple messages or the plots of movies I watched. Anything really went in one ear and out the other. My brain simply couldn't process anything. One might say all the available RAM was engaged and the ROM had overheated. It's getting better now. I can remember who tells me what, when and why. Which is enormously nice when one considers I'm a teacher and students tend to talk a lot and they take offense at being forgotten... I can also start planning the curriculum again and not have to do everything on the fly as I did for the past 2 months. Which also is nice because doing everything on the fly is kind of stressful.
My husband and I have decided to turn vegetarian. He's read a scientific study that indicates that eating a predominantly vegetarian or vegan diet can have a positive effect on MS and I think that anything that might have a slight effect on keeping the disease at bay is worth a try, so I've agreed to it even though I am a huge carnivore and I love me some tender steak and hot dogs, etcetcetc, but if this can help then it's worth it to kiss the chops goodbye.
Dec. 29th, 2011 | 09:51 pm
Word count: ~900
Disclaimer: Don't own the rights to the show, the characters.
The station looks the way it looks every evening: 6 desks littered with folders, documents, evidence envelopes and half full mugs of tea. Typewriters with sheets of paper and partial sentences are waiting for diligent fingers to come along to finish reports, statements and requisitions. Ashtrays filled with cigarette butts and chewing gum, waste paper bins brimming with the usual detritus of investigations and one or two open drawers sit here waiting for hands to close them.
D.C.I. Gene Hunt's office sits in the dark.
If walls could talk, these would have some top stories to spill. Luckily, walls can't talk.
Noises, though, can tell stories. These noises tell the story of two people finding themselves together.
The tape recorder on D.I. Drake's desk is still playing the mixtape Chris made Shaz last year. It's the third time. This time when the tape runs out, they don't notice. To them it is as if the music continues to play around them as they move in a tight embrace in the darkness of D.C.I. Gene Hunt's office.
The scent of the wine they shared earlier at Luigi's fills the air between them as they move to their silent soundtrack. It is late and they both know they would be far better off going home, but the music is beautiful and they know that home is not an option. Not now.
Here in Gene Hunt's office they are together. Completely together, on their own terms for once. They share an unspoken understanding that this evening is their evening. Tonight they're Gene and Alex and they're a man and a woman. Dancing to a beautiful song. Together on an island of romance and opportunity. Gone are the cumbersome titles and masks that make up their daily lives. Gone are the snarky comments and veiled innuendo. Instead they have found the words to speak the truth, the courage to show the need and together they have uncovered a way to share this truth without deceit or apprehension.
Alex is tall in his arms, but she is fragile and pliant tonight. She thinks it is because of the wine and the starry night walk from Luigi's to the police station, but it is not. Her body yields to his embrace because she wants it to and because she has wanted it to since he carried her in his arms that first day 3 years ago. She wonders what he is thinking as they slowly shift on the floor. As they float in their private world in his office.
Gene's eyes are half open and he is watching her, looking for clues that she has changed her mind, that she is done, that she is appalled, ready for anything but what he finds is her smiling eyes turned up to meet his. His lips part to say something, but all he can manage is a soft sigh and a choking feeling in his chest as she lifts her head from his shoulder and plants a small kiss low on his cheek. He turns his head slightly to brush her lips with his before she draws back, but he is too late.
She immediately lowers her eye lids as if she's embarrassed that she did that to her superior officer and he can feel her body tense up for an instant before she finds her music again and he wonders if he imagined it all. He wonders if he's imagining this whole evening and if he will lose it if he opens his eyes.
His arms glide slowly from their place on her shoulders to rest on the dip in her back while her arms find their way to the back of Gene's neck and Alex allows her fingers to stretch up into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. She feels him shiver at the intimate touch and her breath catches in her throat as she realizes what is happening.
She feels his chest rise and fall as his breath quickens under her touch and she knows this is right. She knows there is no turning back now and she knows that whatever happens tomorrow or ten years from now, the only thing that's ever going to feel real again will be this moment. This dance.
His fingers stroke her back as he attempts to raise her shirt to feel her skin against his own and he sees her eyes widen as he dips a finger under the soft edge of her skirt before letting his finges run up her spine. She presses herself closer to his chest and he feels her skin through her clothes. He knows she is burning. Knows she is there with him and knows that this will be their one chance. Their one chance to preserve the world they have made for themselves. A world that can't ever exist outside of this night, this office, this song, this breath.
"Beautiful women don't want this from me, Bolls" he says and breaks the tight embrace to make certain he is not reading her wrong and is shocked to find that she has tears in her eyes. She keeps her eyes on him as a single tear spills from her left eye and she reaches her right hand up and pulls his face closer to her own and whispers in his ear: "I want this, Gene. I want this. With you. I have wan...." she doesn't finish her thought this time, but turns away from him.
He reaches out for her, but finds only empty air.
Dec. 29th, 2011 | 06:59 pm
3 things I can't live without:
1. My husband Adam. Without him my life would be a cold, barren desert wasteland.
2. My medicine. Without it I would be out of here in a split sec.
3. Beautiful men on the telly. Without them I would be in a state....(;x)