rimturse

Disclaimer: This is not a whine, but merely a reflection of my own daft descisions.

Genius that I am, I overdid it with work, gardening and housework Thursday, which resulted in a zombie like state Friday. Took my injection Friday night, so yesterday was spent on painkillers, a lot of TV watching and game-playing on the computer. Today isn't much better, pain is almost gone, but I'm exhausted from it.

...there's a lesson here to be learned here; one which I ought to have learned years ago: Obviously there's nothing to do about the injection side effects, except switching to another medication, but I really don't want to do that. It should, however, be possible not to think I'm Superwoman whenever I have a day where I feel rested and full of energy.

Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan. :p

Idiocy aside, my new guilt-monkey free life still seems to be the way to go. I'm not quite there yet, since it's all a question of making new habits and I still slip into the old on occasion, but I am beginning to see results, plus quite a bit of potential, and I'm rather excited by it.

I know she means well, but...spring is barely here and we're back to the usual garden issues with my mother wanting to plan our garden and insist on buying or planting plants for us that:

- we have repeatedly told her that we do not want
- are delicate and labour intensive

Her reply to me saying that I only want plants that are hardy, low maintenance and that spread like weeds? I quote: "I don't like plants like that."

Well guess what? It's OUR garden. WE are the ones who have to take care of the plants, and besides the daily housework and taking care of the pets. WE are running three businesses between us and renovating the house and garden, plus I'm struggling with MS fatigue.

I am not a monster. My mother has a beautiful tiny garden, which in summer is an explosion of scent, colour and structures...and she loves gardening. She digs up all her bulbs every year and store each in the appropriate manner before planting them again later. She keeps larges patches of bare soil in a pristine weeded condition, she prunes, cuts, plants and ties up plants, and I can understand that with such a dedication to gardening it is difficult accepting a vision like this:
http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_72M1OP89FoY/SfQCnsiGOxI/AAAAAAAAA5c/sbPCWjl9vcY/s400/lupiner.jpg

when you own and prefer a vision more like this:
http://www.illustratedlight.com/images/David%20Clack/flower_garden.jpg

So no...it's not that I don't understand where she's coming from and it's not that I can't see how absolutely cool it would be to have 4 - 4,5 acres of land looking like her mental image, which is probably something like this:

http://hearthunger.com/__oneclick_uploads/2008/01/flower-garden.JPG

...but I am a grumpy, grouchy realist with limited funds, time and energy. Plus I like organic, "wild" gardens and simplicity.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...it took ages before I managed to pull myself together and get my water colours up from the basement, but I've started the first painting ordered by C and while I'm still just layering on base colours, I have to admit that I'm quite enjoying it. In fact I want to do more! And am considering getting a second water colour block so that I can work on one piece while the other one dries.

Just came to think of my "thank you, May, for showing all of us how to completely ruin water colours" art teacher in "gymnasium", who would blow her top if she knew that I'm still layering water colours. At that point I felt completely humiliated in front of the whole class, but now I can recognize art-snobbery when I see it; apparently, it's just not artsy to use water colours that way. I wonder what she'd have to say to Stephanie Pui Mun Law and James Browne. ;)

This was btw. the same teacher who said "I am giving you a 9 in art class, I would have preferred to give you less, but I would not be able to defend that decision professionally" and who didn't approve any of my final project layouts until 22 hours before it had to be delivered. I hope the old girl at least got some pleasure out of making others miserable.

Anyway after the www.epilogue.net pressure of "not to produce crap" started appearing, I found that painting and drawing became less and less pleasurable and more and more tedious, so any kind of enjoyment is a definite plus - and no, this is in no way Epilogue's fault, it's merely my mind messing with me.

...an idea for a short story came to me as I was brushing my teeth last night, but I am not sure I should write it. Why? Because it deals with very sensitive issues and ethics.

While, in my opinion, some of the finest works of art are those that challenges the recipient by showing the world from a new angle and posing questions that ought to be asked, I don't believe in being offensive, rude and hurtful, merely for the sake of provoking a reaction. A reaction alone proves nothing, a reaction with a message, and a poignant message at that, on the other hand...

There are works of art that I do not approve of, but which I respect and admire:

"The goldfish in blenders art" and "dying street dog in museum art" were both extremely brutal, intelligent ways of showing human nature and hypocrisy.

While I don't shy away from messages in my work, my main philosophy is to "do no harm". Writing the short story that prompted all these musings probably would not be an issue for the majority of other writers - and it is hardly as controversial as any of the above examples, far from it. Still, I'm torn between writing the story and standing behind its message, and just not write it and not risk stepping on anyone's toes.

The funny this is that even by writing this blog post, I'm attributing my work far more importance than it will probably ever have...ha! Will the world be a better place with the story in it? No. Will it be a worse place? No. Will it be indifferent? Yes. Will any of the handful of people who read this story feel targeted in any way? No. In fact there are maybe just 5-10 people in the entire world who would and none of these know of my existence.

EDIT: mnfaure says to write the story and the readers can always chop off my finger later. Ahhh, the warm, fuzzy feeling of friendship. ;)

Warning: Post contains adult language.
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I have a bruise on my left calf. That's not a novelty, I also have a bruise on my right calf, and two on my left hand.

The interesting part is that the bruise on my left calf is huge, swollen, sore, black/purple and has striped imprints around the edges - and I have no idea how I got it. Surely getting a bruise like this should have caused some amount of memorable pain? But nope. Nothing. Which is good, I supposed, but also rather annoying because now I'm wondering whatever would have caused a striped-edged imprint like that?
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Lia went into her 3rd heat two days ago, which makes her regular with around 6 1/2 months between heats. The regularity is a relief. It's much easier to deal with an intact bitch when you can plan around her heats in advance and know when approximately to expect them. Also, her going into heat on the 26th of February, means that she will likely be 2-3 days out of heat on the 21st of March, so that we won't have to cancel her mental description test if the Golden Retriever Club turns out to have an empty spot for us.
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I finished the knitted shawl I've been working on for the past two years...well, that is, I did 95% of it in 2008 and then completed the remaining 5% yesterday. I made pom-poms and strings to hold it together in front, but I'm not sure I love it. I have some nice Scandinavian style hooks, so I might end up removing the pompoms and attaching a hook instead.
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Watched a Danish documentary about vaginas while finishing up the shawl. It included a short film about the production of the book Petals:

https://nickkarras.com/Home_Page.html

...which of course gave me an idea for an artsy book of my own - minus the vaginas, as if I don't have enough unfinished projects as it is.

Usually when we come in from walks, I take off my boots, jacket and hat and go sit either in the kitchen or in the living room. Lia will then bring me my slippers and she gets rewarded with treats; one for each slipper.

This evening, I went upstairs without putting on my slippers.

Lia: ????? *Looks at slippers. Stands on stairs to look after May. Looks at slippers*

1 minute later.

C: Maaaay! Lia just brought me your slippers.

..or else!

December
May: What's with the ear, Bold? Let me see.
Bold: Ouch! Ow! Don't touch ear!

January
Bold is limping and has to have his front paw checked.

February
May: Wow! That is a beautiful scratch on your nose.
Bold: Huh? What? Oh that...yeah....

Today
CATFIGHT!!!!

May: *opens terrace door* Who is fighting? Cut it out!
Bold: I am king! Ruler of the land!
Lilith: One step closer and you're minced meat, kid!
May: So that's how it happens.

C: Lia has a bit of upset stomach and had a little accident on her hind leg fur.
May: Okay, bathtime.
Lia: NONONONONONONO! She's lost her mind! Save me C! Oh dear God! SAVE ME! SAVE ME! *scrambles to escape bathroom*
May: Lia, bathtime is going to happen whether you want it or not.
Lia: Really?
May: Really.
Lia: Oooookay. *voluntarily walks into the shower and stands still with her head on May's shoulder while being bathed*

But it wasn't over there. After the shower, Orlando did not like Lia's new jasmine smelling feet, so he insisted on washing all of them. Thoroughly!

And then...because the snow is all gritty and ice, Lia got to wear her new shoes for the first time today and got laughed at for walking weirdly with them on and jumping like a little rabbit! It wasn't all bad, though. The new shoes were slippery and FUN to run around in.

...hands are better, I'm just waiting for my brain to catch up. The problem with fatigue is that I cannot think clearly. Like yesterday night, the power went a couple of times and the induction cooktop in the kitchen started blinking with an error message.

After reading through the instruction booklet and not finding any error message that looked like a mirrored 9, I concluded that the cooktop probably needed resetting. So, not thinking I yank out the kitchen drawers to get to the switch, but of course it's not a switch, but a power plug, which you cannot reset. Aaaaand I know this!

Since brain is still out of order, I then go to the stables to try and reset it there through the main switch - only the main switch in the stables was of course redirected to the house, when we renovated the kitchen and can now be found in the upstairs pantry. DUH!

Luckily, by the time I came inside again. C had realized what I was trying to do and had flipped the switch for me.