mood: bleak

i'm sick. i haven't been sick like this in a long time. it started yesterday when i was driving with a colleague to copenhagen. i suddenly knew i was going to throw up and luckily he pulled over quickly. then despite attending a workshop, i continued to throw up the rest of the day. by the time we drove home, i was getting achy all over and i'm sure i had a low grade fever. miserable. i went to bed immediately with a kitten and tiktok and slept for 10 hours. so far today, no throwing up, but the thought of food still turns my stomach. i have kept a cup of tea down, so that's something. 

so i'm hanging out in bed with travis, my comfort kitten, candles burning and my laptop on my lap. and i'm thinking about all the madness in the world. in the early days of this blog, i would have been on the barricades, writing about it. the incomprehensible slaughter of innocent women and children in gaza, the way the war in ukraine drags on, but seems to have been forgotten in the face of the horrors being committed by israel and hamas. the criminal trump's increasingly fascist behavior and his likelihood of being the nominee. i just don't know what to say. or do. i feel rather helpless in the face of it all. 

here i am, tucked up in my cozy, warm bed, fretting about some stupid bureaucracy imposed on our little creative group by the local bank and recovering from the flu while the world rages out there. and i can't help but berate myself for it, wondering if it's similar to how ordinary germans just sat back and let hitler do all he did. did they feel as helpless and wrapped up in their own pettiness? 

daily delights - february 18

 

i have to try pretty hard these days to look for the bright spots in all this isolation. i am weary of working from home. i almost want to throw up, thinking of having yet another teams meeting. my back is tired from sitting too much. and while i love my joggers (they're not sweatpants), i want to put on real clothes, do my makeup and fix my hair and i want to leave the house. more than just to pick up packages at the back door of the local shoe store, where they've begun to surreptitiously sell shoes (i can't blame them) as well as dispense packages. i want to stop feeling mildly irritated at those idiotic people who wear that pointless clear chin mask that just sends all their covid droplets up into their own faces before disseminating them to the rest of us in the grocery store. i want to drive to the office, listening to podcasts while i drink my latte from the travel cup i made it in for the drive. i want to see my colleagues and laugh and have casual conversations that don't take place online. all of this sounds like it was pretty hard to find today's delight and it was. but i found it. one fat, creamy ball of burrata, a perfect avocado and a perfectly ripe, sweet papaya, sprinkled with a dash from my last precious container of everything but the bagel - i don't know whether it was a late breakfast or an early lunch (i ate it around 10:30), but i do know that it was delicious, decadent and yes, delightful. it's the little things. sometimes we have to look for them, but they're always there. and this too shall pass. and then i'll likely miss these days of sweatpants and an artfully placed scarf.

when grown women act like they're in junior high

you know that moment when someone calls you out of the blue and is angry with you? you get a whole litany of complaints from them, some which are perfectly valid, but they were so off your radar that you’re taken aback by the whole thing? it’s an instant of insight into another perspective; one which you definitely would never have arrived at on your own.

during that phone conversation (which feels strange in and of itself, because honestly, who makes phone calls anymore these days?), you realise that the person actually just wants to be mad and doesn’t want to resolve anything with you. she just wants to communicate her anger. repeatedly and insistently. and she definitely does not want to listen to you, nor does she actually want the information that she claims you have been withholding from her. she mostly seems to want to give you lessons about a culture that you clearly don’t understand, what with your being a foreigner and all. and while it’s all very unpleasant, people are entitled to their emotions. and sometimes situations make us angry. but you’re actually quite zen about it because you have no vested emotions in this person. you’d met her a few times, but actually felt quite ambivalent about her, not disliking, but not liking either. and you chalk the whole thing up to what you have to endure if you’re going to head up a little artsy organisation involving a bunch of women. because women are always worst to one another (why is that?).

however, it doesn’t stop there. the angry person takes to facebook and airs her complaints publicly on the group’s facebook page. you’re traveling for work at the time and don’t have time to address the complaints in the public forum, but thankfully one of the other members does so. a few weeks later, when you try to do so and actually to thank her for motivating the board to start an electronic newsletter to keep members informed, you discover that you are blocked from commenting on the post. and also on another post, which is complaining that the angry woman can’t see the information you posted about an upcoming event. and you realise that the reason she can’t see it, or any of your other posts, is that she has blocked you. and you investigate how one goes about that on facebook and you realise that it’s not something that could have been done by accident – it had to have been intentional. she wanted to spew her complaints and she didn’t want you to be able to answer them. and while that’s normal behaviour on the internet, it’s actually not that often that you encounter it in real life. and you move away from ambivalence towards dislike.

but you try to actually curb your knee-jerk response to such a person and handle it from another, more zen place. so you send an email with the comment that you wanted to post, praising her for sharing her experience with the group and for prompting us to start a tiny letter newsletter. and you say that it’s perfectly ok that she has blocked you on facebook (and you actually mean it), but that she should know that it’s why she can’t see the information you post in the group and could she kindly refrain from publicly complaining about that when she has chosen it herself.

she responds with pleas of a lack of tech savvy and asks you to explain how she can fix it. so you play tech support and give her a detailed description of where/how you block and unblock people (after googling your way to how it's done). and when she stops by the exhibition, you also show her the same on your own computer, which you happen to have along. but you maintain a wary distance and are not warm and friendly, because hello, she did block you and now she’s standing right in front of you, lying to your face about it.

some hours later, you hear that she proceeded to go down to the square and talk shit about you to several of your friends. and with that, you’ve had enough and you write to her once again, kindly asking her to please take the conversation directly with you and not go around talking about you on the streets. and, while lying to you directly that she hadn’t done so, like a child, picking up their toys and going home – she petulantly picks up her paintings from the exhibition and says she is leaving the group. and you wonder how grown women (seriously, she's in her 60s) can behave like that.

maybe we really do learn how to behave when we’re in junior high.

and then your ambivalence returns. and you realise it’s all just fodder for an eventual novel. if people didn’t want you to write about them unfavourably, they should have been nicer.

through the viewfinder

i woke up feeling irritated. irritated that the bell jar was so quickly over and that the ending was so ambiguous. irritated that americans don't realize the rest of the world uses the metric system and they're the weird ones. irritated with styled, perfectly-presented lives that pretend to be all quiet and serene when they're put up online. irritated at those roosters out there, trying to outdo one another. irritated that no matter how much laundry you do, there will always be more. irritated that i still don't really know what i want to be when i grow up. irritated that i'm beginning to suspect that i actually am grown up and this is just a condition of life. irritated at the gorgeous thomas rode's new paleo cookbook (even tho' i'd like to sleep with it under my pillow), because i really doubt they had that much cabbage in the stone age. irritated that kittens become cats so quickly. irritated at how high the ground water level is with all this rain. irritated that i wrenched my back and nearly fell into the well trying to get the perfect shot of some leaves against the blue sky.

maybe i'll just go back to bed.

this too shall pass

Stræberen by Leif Grønhøj

grrr. sometimes everything is just so irritating that you want to scream!

your bra doesn't fit right.

you can't find your garden gloves.

people keep asking you where stuff is.
and you have no idea.
or can't be bothered to explain.
since you're looking for your own gloves.
and if you knew where stuff was, you wouldn't be looking for them.

your child wants to be waited on hand and foot.

which you know is your own fault, since you usually wait on her hand and foot.

but that doesn't make it any less irritating.

the wind keeps blowing the straw you're trying to put out around the strawberries away.

and the straw is making you sneeze.

the chicken wasn't done when you called everyone to dinner.

and your soufflé fell a little bit during the waiting.

there's nothing on t.v.

and they changed the whole online t.v. guide and now it's buggy as hell.

and on top of it you can't find anything.

and all these petty irritations make you lose the awesome happy buzz you had after  a two hour guided sculpture tour in the sunshine (more about that tomorrow). 

and it all makes you wish, just a little bit, for menopause to come already so you can be done with PMS.

tho' you're still irritated at that stupid dutch hairdresser for suggesting you were already menopausal for coloring your hair dark last summer.

whatever.

this too shall pass.

but a cocktail would help.

a little collection of what's on my mind

after seeing the delightfully weird me and you and everyone we know on the silver channel a few weeks ago, i ordered one of miranda july's books of short stories from the library. she had written and directed and even starred in (if you can call it that) the film. like the film, the stories in no one belongs here more than you are quite internal, lonely, odd, strangely sexual and have an undertone of a desperate hanging on (to love, to life, to sanity). they're provocative and both depressed and depressing. they're not really that good for the kind of bedtime reading that i like to do. i'm just not sure i need that much loneliness right before bedtime.

which isn't to say that i don't like the book, i do (i'm only about halfway done with it). i think miranda july (i can't make either of her names look right alone, so i have to use both) captures a kind of internal voice that we maybe all have, tho' many of us have been socialized to repress it. but there's also something of the inherent loneliness of the urban world that we inhabit. tho' we are surrounded by people, we are, for much of the time, quite alone. and we are utterly alone in our own thoughts. that also shines through in her film. loneliness is clearly her big theme.

i think her writing is deep and beautiful and i envy it a bit. the seeming freedom with which she expresses the inner, slightly embarrassing thoughts that i'm certain we all have, is a place i just don't dare to go. it has a raw vulnerability that i don't think i ever allow myself in my writing. but it's doing me good to read it and think it over.

* * *

the bugs bunny line repeats over and over in my head in ominous wagnerian tones: "i killed the wabbit." because yesterday, due to a bad decision made by me, this little beauty of a bunny was callously killed by pepchen, our mama kitty.

we have a big cage that we put out on the lawn for the bunnies to get some sunshine, grass and fresh air. i had solskin and her five babies, who are three and a half weeks old now, out in the cage all afternoon. i kept going out to check on them and they were doing well. they were enjoying themselves and tho' i was going to be leaving to pick up some feed, i consciously decided to leave them out because they were so enjoying frolicking in the sunshine and i wouldn't be gone long. the little bunnies can sometimes find a place to get outside the cage, but they hadn't really done so all day. so i went.

when i came back 20 minutes or so later, i looked out the laundry room window and saw pepchen suspiciously stalking the cage. so i ran out and chased her away. i discovered the little black velvet bunny on the outside of the cage and couldn't find creamy (the bunny above) anywhere. i took the others all inside to their real cage in the barn and proceeded to search and call for creamy for 45 minutes or more. growing more and more concerned. and then, as i was going back to the house, i saw her still little body lying underneath the trampoline. killed, but not eaten (thankfully), by the cat before i stopped her. i will admit i shed tears and felt so guilty about it all evening. the poor little innocent life, taken by the cat. we're mad at pepchen, but in all honesty, she couldn't help herself, it was just her nature. i suppose we'll forgive her in time, but for now, we are mourning the loss of little creamy. she was such a beautiful and sweet little bunny soul and we will miss her.

* * *

playing words with friends isn't much fun if your opponent is using a cheat site.

and p.s. it's easy to tell.

* * *

årstiderne, the fabulous folks behind the weekly deliveries of organic veg and other goodies, have just come out with a gin & tonic box!! handmade in denmark, small batch gin by ørbæk distillery and organic tonic. swoon! i swear their awesomeness knows no bounds.

* * *

i've developed an allergy to the designation DIY that's quite similar to my allergy to LOL. i blame pinterest for this. here's the deal, if it's obvious that it's a craft, you don't need to call it DIY. example: origami? not DIY. stitching? not DIY. knitting? not DIY. hacking an ikea lamp? maybe. the photo above contains several great examples of DIY - the boxes for the herb beds are DIY. the custom-built mini greenhouse that fits over one of the herb bed boxes: DIY. the pizza oven in the background, definitely DIY. because they are definitely Do It Yourself - they are drawn out, designed and built, all by husband, so not really myself, but they are real DIY. origami birds are not. they are just origami. 

* * *

yesterday, while sabin got a much-needed haircut, i sat playing on my phone while i waited. it was the end of the day and the two young women who have the salon had a friendly banter going with a young man who came in for a haircut. he was probably in his mid-20s and lives in a local group home. he was independent enough to come down to the hairdresser on his own and to hand her an envelope of money to pay for the haircut which had been prepared for him beforehand by someone at the group home. he came in with a bouquet of dandelions behind his back and presented them with a smile. he teased the girl who was cutting his hair, saying he'd rather have the hairdresser who was doing sabin's hair. he talked a lot about a singer he liked and how his hair was white on the ends. he also repeated several times that he was going to the circus that evening and how much he's like one of those circus posters that were up around town. he had sharply observed that there were several different versions of the poster, but he definitely wanted the one with the clown. the girl cutting his hair kept up a cheerful and even teasing banter with him, which made him feel good and validated as a person. and which impressed me greatly as a spectator to the entire encounter. his lack of the social filter that holds us back from fully enjoying and fully jumping into a conversation, made for a pleasant atmosphere in the salon in general. i don't know what his diagnosis was, but i'm pleased we go to a salon where the girls who work there were so good at making him feel like the whole and worthy individual he undoubtedly is. it's a shame that culture and society in general often look upon someone like him in the opposite manner, not appreciating the gifts he has, but rather lamenting those he doesn't. and i'll admit that i wasn't entirely comfortable at first with his lack of the societal mask. but as i sat there, listening, i came to appreciate it very much. we could all learn a lesson from him in being entirely who we are in the moment.

and the sun sets on another day

a spectacular sunset on a so-so day.

i woke up (grudgingly), to the smell of cat pee. like the kind a male cat does to mark its territory. that didn't bode well for the day. as i stumbled out to the kitchen, eyes still bleary and trying to adjust to being open and having glasses on, i saw a streak of black run from the kitchen into the box-filled dining/storage room. and i screamed. it was the stray cat we'd seen around this spring. IN our house. what the hell was it doing in the house? and i think it had been in here more than 24 hours, as several times yesterday, i found that lila's bowl was empty. lila is our real cat, who belongs in the house. and she seldom neatly empties her bowl. in fact, she pretty much never does. husband and i spent the next half an hour trying to chase him out. not exactly what i had in mind before i'd even had my morning tea.

do you ever have those days? where nothing's really wrong, but you just feel irritated by everything? the wind is too windy. the washing machine takes an eternity. the child is utterly unable to throw her dirty clothes into the basket that stands in the hallway for that express purpose. you drop a wet towel right into the dirt as you're hanging it up. they suddenly moved the start of boston legal up by 20 minutes without notifying you. the rhubarb cordial goes a strangely dark color from the organic sugar, instead of remaining pretty bright pink. the child treats you like her personal chauffeur, calling to say, "come get me now," then calling back to say "don't come for another 20 minutes." the car is on empty and you don't delight in seeing how far you can go after the light comes on, the way husband does. on top of it all, the horse got a massage and a chiropractic adjustment in the past few days and has a manicure/pedicure scheduled for friday - and your own nail polish is chipped and there's a crick in your neck. in short, it was a day full of petty irritations. a day that makes you want to curl up in clean sheets with the right cat, your laptop, a glass of wine and a new book you picked up at the library today.

but it was also the day where we picked the first substantial amount of strawberries in the garden and we each got a good bowlful of them, with sugar and cream, for dessert. and that made it all a tiny bit better.