Obfuscated Iconoclasm

Deftly defying convention- a how-to

My Greatest Pet Peeve

I’ve been doing a lot of internet reading lately.  Social media articles, random beauty posts, etc.  What is the one thing that they all have in common?

Spelling and grammar errors.

Literally every page I’ve visited, every article I’ve read, every blog post I’ve seen has had at least one typo.  Now, you’re saying, it’s only a typo, it’s not like anybody is going to die from a typo.  True but it is greatly underestimating the reading masses to think, “hey, I’m going to publish something, I’ll just write it really fast and then post, boom, done… but wait, should I edit it?  Nah, it’s just the internet, grammar is wonky there anyway.  I mean you can use 2 to mean to so a typo or two won’t hurt anything.”  You know what I, one of the masses reading that post with a typo in it, thinks?

I think you’re a blazing idiot.  Editing isn’t that hard, in fact, spell check does most of the work for you (and let it do the work for you!  Pay attention to your spell checker!)  More than anything you’re looking for words that are words but not the right words like using form instead of what you meant, from.  That happens all the time to me.  The difference?  I take the time to reread every single word to make sure that the words on the page are the words that are meant to be there.

If you are taking the time to put your thoughts into words on a page, you should do one of two things: a) edit your own work or b) pay someone to do it for you.  Do your readers the simple courtesy of making sure your writing is the best it can be.  There are more people out there like me who immediately think less of your writing if there are typos in it.  Even websites that I visit all the time have this issue and, while I still visit them, I do get über frustrated when I see those inevitable typos.

And don’t ask me to evaluate your page if it has typos on it, I will point them out (this just recently happened.)  It is my greatest pet peeve and I will call you on it.

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Bike Girl

Ok, firstly, it is not Wednesday, I know.  I think we all just need to face the facts and realize that this blog is spontaneous and based on the whims of someone with a less than firm grip on reality, so, take what you can get.  I’m not trying to get famous or anything with this blog so I think that if we all just lower our expectations to non-existent, in the end we’ll all be pleasantly surprised.

Now that that’s out of the way, something interesting FINALLY happened in my life so I actually have something to tell y’all.  I WAS IN A BIKE ACCIDENT.  I broke my pinky finger and required stitches.  Backing up a bit, I was riding with N to the gym.  We got split up, I ended up on a busy street and I tried to take the first left off of it.  The kindly soul who ran me out of my lane and helped me get my face connected with the pavement DID NOT stick around (though they did stop for the red light, so there’s that…) Some random guy saw me, bleeding profusely (head wounds bleed, a lot) and lying in the middle of the road and stopped, called 911 (btw, this all happened, like, a block away from the police station.  It was obviously meant to be.) and sat with me until the cops and ambulance came.  Also, btw, this all happened last Wednesday so that is my excuse for not posting on that particular Wednesday (LIES!  I had no plans to write anything, accident or no.)

Anyway, the ambulance came, and after removing copious amounts of blood from my face (seriously, it was like a geyser.  I still need to clean the blood rivulets off my coat.  I went through a handful of napkins the guy who stopped for me had.) determined that I needed stitches and whisked me away to the hospital.  My bike came along for the ride because my other option was to have PD take it and I could retrieve it later but that seemed like a huge hassle and the ambulance ride was hassle enough.  So there I am, along with my bike, in the back of an ambulance riding to the ER.

I was taken into the ER (I had to WALK in.  Seriously, ambulance rides do not equal full service.) where a kindly doctor looked me over and prescribed a cleaning of the wound and a hand x-ray (by then my hand had started to hurt, largely because my pinky was broken.  Which I didn’t find out till the next day, but I’m getting ahead of myself.)  I had the x-ray and then I was taken into a room where they irrigated my head wound.  Now, for those of you without the privilege of having had a wound irrigated, it goes like this: patient lies back and is tilted precariously on gurney.  Nurse proceeds to flood wound site with copious amounts of saline.  There is pain and the saline is fucking freezing.  I start getting antsy because I hate hospitals and I was in pain.  Cue sad whimpering.  Now, just to help you picture the scene a bit better, in the background is my largely unscathed bike, hanging from an IV stand.  The nurses thought it very clever.

Once the irrigation was done the doc came in and said he saw the x-rays and nothing was broken (LIES!) and that unfortunately my head wound was gaping so the original option of using surgical glue was out.  Instead I needed stitches.  He proceeded to put in said stitches and seemed very proud of the fancy one that was holding together three flaps of skin.  Whoop dee doo.  I was just glad people had stopped fiddling with the painful parts on me.

Then came the fun part.  I had to call N and my mom and tell them, hey, I’m in the emergency room cause someone ran me off the road and I got all sorts of fucked up.  But tell them I did and they coordinated a taxi to take me and the bike home.  At this point my hospital visit was coming to a close, all that was left was discharge papers and a tetanus shot.  I got the shot and went out to wait for my taxi and ponder the night’s earlier events.

The following day I looked like shit- I had a puffy black eye from the head wound, some road rash on my face, and was sore all over.  I also got a call from the ER informing me that the radiologist had looked at my x-rays, presumably to double check the doc’s reading, and my pinky was actually broken.  Could I come in and get it taped?  So after a horrible night, I trekked back to the hospital and got my hand looked at and taped up, which is how it needs to stay for the next 4-6 weeks.  Typing is awkward.

After all this I took the rest of the week off from biking and just watched the swelling slowly subside on my face.  The black eye is finally clearing up so I no longer look like I ran into a doorknob.

All in all, a very exciting night.  Not exciting in a good way but it certainly got the blood pumping (out of my face.)  That’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in a while.  What have you been up to?

 

 

Hey It’s Wednesday!

It’s the day I promised you all I would post on the regular and except for the whole regular part, I did it!  Excuse me while I undeservedly pat myself on the back…

Unfortunately for you, nothing of note has happened.  I spent Christmas and New Year’s in an exceedingly boring suburb playing with cats, housesitting for a friend, and riding my bike 30 miles at a stretch.  I only liked one of the cats; she was social.  The other was an extreme ‘fraidy cat and by the time I left I still wasn’t able to pet her without her startling.  Ugh.

Side note- my stomach is making scary sounds and I am concerned that a small but exceedingly angry alien is going to burst forth at any moment.  I already ate- WHAT DOES IT WANT???

Not much has changed since last I wrote and so I’m not really sure what to say other than hi!  I need to go ride my bike now.  Catch ya later!

Apropos of Nothing

Let’s face it, I have a long history of not updating this blog in a timely fashion.  That’s why you love me, right?

I’m writing to you from a haze of discombobulation.  It’s discombobulation from the fact that I was forced to go to sleep around 7pm due to a change in when I take my medication.  I took my medication earlier than I have been and I got the full brunt of one of the more delightful/maddening side effects.

Let’s be real for a minute.  The only reason I sleep at all is because I take powerful psychotropic medication.  Otherwise, I stay up too late, sleep fitfully or not at all, and cannot do anything more productive, sleep wise.  So I love this medication.  It makes me a functional human being.  Sleep is so good ya’ll and I’m glad I get to share in that experience.  However, when I take my medication earlier and I am forced to sleep the sleep of the dead, it’s hard to remember why I am thankful I get to take my medication.

The sleep this medication initially induces is intense.  I MUST go to sleep otherwise I struggle to stay awake and work through a haze of tiredness.  I succumb to the sleep and for an hour or two sleep so deeply that I can’t remember falling asleep or waking up.  It’s so deep that an hour or two provides a shocking amount of restfulness and I wake up oddly refreshed, even though sometimes I end up going back to sleep (IT’S NIGHTTIME AND I AM AN OLD WOMAN.  Also, sleep is so lovely.)  I’m going to end up going back to sleep tonight; I can feel it calling to me as I write this post.  But because I fell into a medication induced coma, I am also feeling rather well rested.

This side effect is strange.  On the one hand, I get to sleep so well that I actually feel well rested when I wake up.  On the other hand, I can’t really control WHEN I go to sleep and once the urge hits have zero ability to fight it.  I’m taking the medication in the morning and have this same side effect to contend with.  I need to figure out how to get the great effects from the meds without having the side effect trample my sleep/wake schedule.  I’m working on it but man is it stressful in the interim dealing with the sudden, uncontrollable urge to sleep.

In other news, life is actually going pretty well.  I occasionally get to glimpse truly restful sleep, I’m riding my bike 60 miles this week, 75 the next, my internships go well, and despite the feeling of “must go to sleep, cannot do or think about anything else” I managed to make food for N and I for the rest of the week.  And I’m up now, briefly, so I think I’ll do some research on krill oil.

Good times.

Here’s to restful sleep and getting shit done.

I Cannot Be Trusted/Happy Belated Thanksgiving!

I keep telling you guys I am going to do better at regularly updating the blogthing but I just can’t.  I can’t because I have a life.  Right now I am supposed to be doing work for my internship but because I care about you guys getting your dose of amazingness, I am taking time out of my busy schedule to post.  Let’s be honest though, this is how it’s going to be.  I don’t forget about the blogthing, per se, I just have other shit to do.  And despite my best intentions, that shit always gets prioritized as more important than the blogthing.

(Were someone to pay me for this, it would be a different story, just FYI.  Hint hint, nudge nudge.)

Anyway, here’s some things that are happening in my life, in no particular order:

I have an internship and two volunteer gigs.  This is an effort to gain experience and make me look all responsible to employers.

It’s pouring down rain here.

I have a rant about nutritionists that I have been saving up for you guys.  It’s on deck for my next post.

Thanksgiving was… vaguely lonely as my plans fell through at the last minute and N was visiting friends.

I GOT MY DIPLOMA IN THE MAIL.  I actually have a Master’s degree.  Holy shit.

I am scheduling more of my life.  It just makes sense given everything that I am doing.  This means things for the blogthing, hint hint, nudge nudge.

I am thankful for a lot of things, a family that supports me, a roof over my head, food in my belly, regularity, but the newest thing I am thankful for is N.  N is supporting me in so many ways and it is lovely to have someone who gently nudges me to grow and become the best me I can be.

Lastly, because I do care about this blogthing, I am going to commit to regularly posting.  So look for a new post every Wednesday.  It’s even on my calendar.

P.S.  All you bloggers who read this, would you give me any advice you have for how to integrate posting into your busy, busy schedules?  Muchas gracias!

The Good Body

Body image is a loaded subject these days.  Talking about fat results in flame wars on the internets, talking about wanting to lose weight results in flame wars on the internets, and not talking about the body at all results in flame wars and the complaint that obviously the patriarchy has damaged your brain and we’re going to hell in a misogynistic hand basket.  For me, personally, with this blog post, I am hoping for concern trolls and a resulting spike in comments.  I hope for this, ladies and gentlemen, because I am about to talk about… my body (cue dramatic music.)  Also, I want comments!

Some facts: I am 5 feet 1.5 inches tall.  I am female with all the resulting curvature.  I am, as of right now, overweight at 160 lbs.  A little over 2 years ago I was medically obese at 220 lbs.  That’s right, in the course of about 2 years I have lost 60 lbs.  Congratulate me and die.  This is a fact, nothing more, and congratulating me for being able to lose weight means you’re not congratulating me for being fucking awesome and that’s a problem.

It started out as an accident, losing weight.  I went off a medication and started dropping pounds.  I started exercising more, just yoga at least every other day and walking everywhere.  My food intake stayed stable, my portions were LARGE but I was eating *mostly* fresh veggies and fruit, whole grain pasta with a minuscule amount of animal protein.

Cut to today.  I am actively trying to lose weight.  I eat less, mostly lean protein and veggies with some fruit, little to no sugar (and we all know that is my kryptonite.  I deal by eating sweet fruit) and exercise more.  I do yoga every other day, go to the pottery studio every other day, and bike several miles every day.  And when I say I am actively trying to lose weight, I mean I am actively trying to gain muscle and lose fat.  I have found that losing fat has made me feel better, healthier and more energetic.  And my well muscled legs make me feel like a bad ass.  What I am trying to say is this isn’t about fitting my body into some predetermined societally acceptable mold, it’s about getting my body to the point where if I want to go on a 20 mile bike ride, I can.

All the things society sets forth as reasonable indicators of health, the BMI, how good you look in skinny jeans, all mean nothing to me (I’m more of a dress girl.)  My goal weight is one that I can probably hit, though for me it’s more about losing my disproportionately large belly (seriously, I am normal sized everywhere else and my belly is just…) and being able to ride my bike without wanting to die.  Technically, my goal weight of 130 is on the high side for my height but based on the fact that I am actively trying to build muscle, I figure if I hit 130 that’s about as good as it will get because muscle weighs more than fat and I’ve already determined that this is part of why I weigh what I do.  Also, I’ve been reading studies (gah, always an academic) and they all say that for a short, well muscled female, the BMI is even more worthless than usual.  Time for a lesson: this BMI worthlessness is due to a couple things.  1) The BMI was created for insurance companies to measure potential mortalities based one a population’s weight.  That word, population, is very important because it tells you that the BMI was never intended to be applied to individuals.  2) The vagaries of individual bodies are too numerous to account for with a simple ratio.  Which is exactly what the BMI is: a ratio of height to weight.  3) It doesn’t indicate how much of that weight is muscle vs. fat, it doesn’t take into account gender factors (the BMI was originally only applied to men and when they decided to apply it to women, they essentially just scaled down the numbers.  This does not take into account the fact that women, for biological reasons, are supposed carry more fat, in different areas than men.  Where you carry the weight is important too!)

Basically, if I hit 140 and enough of my belly is gone (as determined by me) and I can ride without feeling like death, I will have hit my goal weight.  The fact of the matter is that I don’t own a scale, don’t care to, and frankly don’t care about my weight so much as I care that I am well muscled and healthy, which is not synonymous with a low BMI.  And that’s the rub, that’s what has lady websites up in arms, and that’s why this country is so fucked when it comes to determining health.  We equate health with being skinny and that is not necessarily the case.  I eat better than the majority of people out there, get tons of exercise, but am overweight by any medical standard.  Does this mean I am not healthy?

No, it means that the way we determine health in this country is FUBAR (that’s “fucked up beyond all repair” for those who missed the 90s.)  It means that the flame wars over what people should weigh are based entirely on faulty and improper modes of measuring and it totally discounts the fact that EVERY BODY IS DIFFERENT.  If I were exercising and eating as I am and not losing weight my reaction would be simple yet counterintuitive.  I would determine that maybe, just maybe, this is the weight my body wants to be and continue on, secure in the knowledge that every reasonable marker of health, such as stable insulin levels, low cholesterol, good energy, the ability to take part in my chosen activities, getting regular exercise, eating a well balanced diet, has been met.  Many forward thinking websites have reached this same conclusion, see blisstree.com, danceswithfat.wordpress.com, xojane.com, wellandgoodnyc.com, the problem is that there is still a HUGE push back from every concern troll out there who thinks that they know better because they’ve swallowed the lies, yes lies, that the medical establishment has provided society.  Doctors perpetuate these lies, their patients perpetuate these lies and pretty soon you have one person, a website, as the only reminders that nope, this is not how it should be.  You have a war on obesity that is just laughable in its ineffectuality (seriously, this war, which is ongoing, has helped the nation get fatter, which, I am pretty sure, is the exact opposite of the intended effect.)  And you have a society that has taken body snarking to new heights of craptasticness, resulting in the phrases “fat shaming” and “body snarking” being as common in articles as it, and, and the.

We are better than this.  This is a call to action.  Cast not the first stone and when it comes to weight loss, ask what is healthy rather than what fits into the skewed societal ideal.  Bringing it back to the personal and just to give you a taste of what I am talking about, when I hit my ideal weight, my BMI will likely still be considered overweight.  And I don’t give a fuck because when I hit my ideal weight, I will be a rockin’ bad ass who can bike 20 miles without a thought.  And I’ll be a rockin’ badass because I AM a rockin’ badass, at this weight or any other.

So, I Braised a Pork Shoulder.

I feel like saying, “and then I braised a pork shoulder.” makes me sound weird.  Like I’m some 1950s housewife who actually LIKES being a housewife and spends all her time looking up and cooking up tasty and nutritious recipes for her family.  Mind you, my family consists of myself and N and that’s how it’s gonna stay and I’m over educated when it comes to nutrition so there are things that are staples for most people but are non entities in our house.  That being said, I do spend a lot of time looking at recipes, I just finished a one month meal plan and shopping list, and I do genuinely enjoy the time I spend cooking.  So, I guess what I am trying to say is that I am a 21st century housegirlfriend.

As I was working on the pork shoulder, I was also talking to my friend E and I told her that I was unreasonably proud of myself for coming up with a recipe on the fly with no help from a published one.  It was a bit unseemly how giddy that made me but there you go.

Back to the main topic, braised pork shoulder.  We bought a pork shoulder even though I had my reservations (N is EXTREMELY sensitive to fat, salt, and sugar and so I try to minimize those in our diet and pork shoulder is VERY fatty.)  I had a recipe for pork shoulder but I decided that I didn’t want to make something that required me to buy more ingredients.  I wanted to be able to use what we had on hand.  And a middle eastern braised pork shoulder was born.

I browned the pork shoulder then added 3 sliced onions, about 2 inches of water, dried plums (prunes, der), dried apricots (you all know that pork pairs wonderfully with fruit, right?), some dried garlic, cumin, salt, and cinnamon.  It made the apartment smell heavenly.  I cooked it for about 4 hours, which wasn’t quite long enough for it to be fall apart-y but both N and I were hungry so we made the sacrifice.  Today I finished cooking it to fall apart-y-ness and it’s even better.  We ate it over brown rice with sauteed zucchini.  Yum.

And there you have it, my first foray into cooking a pork shoulder.  For me it was great, for N it was too fatty but he still liked it.  Live and learn.

Other Scheduled Programming:

I am STILL trying to find a job.  The approach has changed, which seems to be garnering an actual response, but it’s slow going and highly stressful for me.  I was able to get a TB test which means that I can now sub for a school here, which is helpful but I need something more.  And something more will come along, I know, it’s just I am impatient and hate the stress case I’ve become.  I worry enough as it is without having to worry about obtaining  money.

I started pottery again, which is wonderful.  Then I hurt my finger somehow.  It’s stiff and a bit swollen but hopefully it will be better tomorrow and I can get back in there and throw!

Life goes on.

So This Girl Walks Into a Bike Shop…

… And buys a bike.  I know, lamest joke ever.  Read on!

I sold my bike a while back.  It was too big. Comically too big and dangerous for me to ride without knee and elbow pads (seriously, controlling that thing was like a mouse trying to control a tank.  Taking a turn was taking my life and knee skin in my hands.)  This is one of the many problems that arise when you are short.  Things that most people take for granted, like having a wide range of bike styles to choose from.

I’ve been looking for another one that fits in my extremely limited budget for a while.  Part of the issue was that I am rather short and most bike companies do not make bikes for short people.  Sure, they make bikes for women 5′ 2″ and up but that is a half inch taller than I and that half inch makes all the difference.  Recently I went into a local bike store to try out sizes to give me a base line for what size I should be looking for.  I tried an extra small frame, designed for women 5′ 2″ to 5′ 4″.  It *almost* fit.  Almost but not quite.  It was hard for me to reach the handle bars and the ground was too far away.  However, as luck would have it, they had an extra extra small frame in stock.

This is a frame for women 4′ 9″ to 5′ 2″.

This frame fit!

Now, in preparation for purchasing a bike I have been saving money.  Squirreling away $5 whenever I could, along with the money I made from selling my bike.  This has been going on for months so I had saved a bit.

And now I had found a frame that fit me.  I could carry it, the geometry worked for my shape, it had an upright riding style (I am horribly accident prone and worry that any other riding style would result in me smacking into a tree.  No me gusta.)  The kicker was that it was on sale.  Clearance, in fact (it turns out that there is little demand for xxs frames so my local bike shop was clearing out the few they had.  Lucky me!)

Now I have a bike.  I have owned it for all of 5 days and have ridden over 10 miles.  My legs are dying but OMG riding a bike is so much fun!  Nothing can beat that feeling of swiftly flying down a hill… straight into oncoming traffic.  Just kidding, I try not to die whilst on my emerald green bike.  So far I’ve been successful, so never fear, I am not writing this post from the great beyond.  I am not getting ectoplasm on my former computer keyboard.

Having a bike has been a blessing.  It makes getting around my city much easier, it opens up the options for where I can go, how fast, and how much I can carry (I have a basket!)  This has made grocery shopping much easier, amongst other things.

On a totally different note, I have an internship at a really cool social media marketing agency, which should help my job hunt, which is ongoing (grr.)  I keep on keeping on and am hopeful that things will get even better here in the not so distant future.  Wish me luck!

Visit me here and on Twitter (@HapticAnimal) and pester me about posting more.  Seriously, I do about 5 million things a day and sometimes I forget about you and this blogthing.  I’ll do my best to remind myself and maybe together we can get me posting more frequently (you guys do want that, right?)

Homesteading for the Modern Woman

You’re a modern woman who wants to bake her own bread, right?  Or is that just me?  In some earlier post that I am too lazy to link to (I’m also sensing that this is a trend…) I enumerated all the crafty/artsy things I do (how can I be lazy and highly crafty/artsy?)  The list was not complete.  No, it turns out, with some of N’s prompting (I really didn’t need much, more just an excuse), that I am quite the little Suzy Homemaker.

As of late I have dyed several things (that is an ongoing project since I still have a pair of my pants and a pari of N’s to do), baked bread (turns out I remembered the basic bread recipe and omg fresh baked bread is omnomnom), hand sewed patches onto a pair of N’s pants, ironed (and enjoyed it.  WTF?), have several ongoing knitting projects, cooked large quantities of food (and surprised even myself with how well I can cook and how much I can simply rely on basic cooking rules to make something tasty), and have generally become what I was obviously meant to be: a housewife.

Now, being a housewife has NEVER been something I aspire to.  Those women work WAY too hard for my lazy ass to consider that a viable option.  I would probably also be expected to bear and rear children and that is never going to happen, so, no housewifery for me.  Until I accidentally turned into one just by discovering that as long as I am moving and creative, I am happy.  I really should have known that this would be that case, given that I know I am a kinesthetic learner and am generally happier moving around and DOING THINGS.  However, never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would take it so far.

People, I have a dedicated dye pot.  You know, just in case the urge to dye something jumps up and starts to strangle me.  I am also building a little sewing kit for myself, which is coming along nicely.  And let’s just say that I have a knitting stash and more needles than I know what to do with.

In honor of the joy of housewifery, here is a list of things you should learn how to do, in order from easiest to hardest.

1) Dye.  Dyeing is super easy, only requires a minimum amount of attention, and is pretty much idiot proof.  If you somehow missed a spot, you can just re-dye (which is what I am doing today.  My pants got dyed, turned the perfect shade of blue, but when I put them on, I discovered a light spot.  Back into the dye pot they go.)  Just remember that dye is toxic so you should have a dedicated dye pot that you never put food in.

2) Needle felting.  This one is super easy but requires some specialized equipment.  Needle felting tools can be found in most craft stores.  Once you have that, grab some wool, a wool garment, and felt on some cool patches.  My attempt to do this failed because I have limited patience and it’s only fun to stab something about 50 times ( note to self: don’t choose stabbing as a murder method, you will get bored.)  After 50 you’re just wondering when you get to wear the sweater.  But don’t let my impatience deter you.  Also, choose wool for this project because, while angora can felt (you’re looking for any fiber that has “scales”, which, when stuck together via friction, mat down into felt), it seems to require more needle action before achieving the desired effect.

3)) Bake bread.  Bread is super easy.  If you’ve got flour, fat of some sort, yeast, warm water, salt and some sort of sugar (there’s lots of honey in this house so that’s my go to yeast food), and about 3 hours, you have bread.  There’s about 10 minutes in that 3 hours where you will be doing manual labor but that is a small price to pay for freshly baked bread.  Delicious.

4) Knit.  Winter is coming supposedly and you want to be prepared, right?  Well, that means woolens.  Hats and fingerless gloves are my go to knitting projects but maybe you fancy pretty lace shawls, scarves, or festive sweaters (if you fancy festive sweaters, check yourself.  You probably think these festive sweaters can be given as gifts.  You are wrong.  No one likes “festive” sweaters because in this context “festive” equals horrifically hideous themed sweaters prominently featuring reindeer and the colors red, white, and green.  No.  Also, sweaters are a ton of work and if you wanted to give them as gifts, you should have started them about 6 months ago.  Choose hats or, better yet, fingerless gloves, and you have a chance of having gifts to give and your sanity by the time Christmas rolls around.)  Other than time, knitting only requires that you learn two very easy stitches and most everything else is simply a variation on those two stitches.  Find some Youtube videos and some yarn and knit!

5) Iron.  Why is ironing last, and therefore indicated as the hardest, on this list?  Because ironing looks easy but requires more patience and core strength than most people are equipped with.  Even I, who for some demented reason enjoys ironing, can only do about 3 shirts before I have to stop and remind myself that sane people actually do this.  Ironing requires a confluence of patience and attention to detail that are hard to sustain, even for the seasoned ironer.  Ironing men’s shirts is particularly taxing because they are broken down into parts, there are buttons and pleats to work with, and there’s a lot of fabric to contend with.  Ironing is not for the faint of heart.  But, if you feel that you are up to the task, there is nothing quite like a well ironed or even semi well ironed shirt to make you feel accomplished.  As for the core strength required to stay in an upright but bent over position, try yoga.

Who am I kidding, try yoga just to try yoga, then thank me in the comments.

Anyway, I’m off to dye and play house.

Side note: you guys really suck at commenting.  I even prompt you and while you will happily “like” my posts, you won’t comment, even when I deliberately ask.  Let’s fix that, eh?

Flat On My Back

Flat on my back is where I’m typing this from because my blood pressure decided it was cool to drop to, oh, 104/62, in just a few seconds.  I knew even before I took my blood pressure (I have an at home cuff/machine ’cause I’m cool like that.  Thanks Mom!) that something was up because I had just lay down and then I couldn’t really control my twitching arm and I thought I might pass out AND my head was throbbing from lack of blood.  I have experienced everything but the uncontrollable twitching arm before so it wasn’t all that bad just really weird.  I could HEAR the blood attempting to rush to my head in an effort to not pass out and I could FEEL my heart beating faster in the hopes that it could help too.

It’s very weird to be able to feel your body attempting to compensate and failing.  It’s even weirder to know that people would kill for my regular blood pressure (unless I am going through postural changes [hence my diagnosis of postural hypotension] my blood pressure hovers around 120/70, which, as anyone with hypertension will tell you, is perfect and virtually unattainable by normal folks.  Unless you have hypotension.  In that case, you get perfect blood pressure most of the time while experiencing ill effects when going from sitting to standing.  So which would you prefer: not-ever-perfect blood pressure but no drastic changes or perfect blood pressure with the caveat that when you stand up from lying/sitting down, you will get lightheaded and feel like you’re going to pass out?  Tough choice, I know.)

Anyway, the whole point of telling you this was to introduce my day, which, up until I started playing with my blood pressure (seriously, after the first episode, I stood up and lay down several times, each time taking my blood pressure, just to see the changes.  Weird but cool.  But probably not safe or smart.  Don’t be like me kids.) had gone rather well, especially considering my atrocious morning.

I am never a morning person.  But if I was up late the night before, getting me to wake up early (8:30am) is asking WAY too much.  Not because I have strong feelings about being up early but because my body, if it hasn’t had enough sleep, absolutely refuses to work.  It will misbehave and make me do obnoxious things until I give it more sleep and then it cooperates.  Unfortunately, I was supposed to be up early for something and poor N tried valiantly to get me there.  However, even a saint can only withstand so much and after I grumped about and threw a tempter tantrum in the bathroom with my eyes half open, he realized that it was a lost cause and let me go back to sleep.  The fact that he didn’t kill me in my sleep makes me so grateful because, quite frankly, I was being a brat of the highest order and was utterly insufferable to myself.  I can only imagine what it looked like from his vantage point.

Once I woke up properly things were much better.  I have a second chance to do the thing I was supposed to do today, next Tuesday, and we have already pledged early nights to prepare for that.  I got some work done for the art lab, which was exciting.  Planned meals for the week with N, took a bath… good god, I am bored to tears, how have you made it this far?

All of this is a long form way of saying that I have nothing of note to say.  Tell me boring things in the comments.

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