jadegirl: (Default)
The solitary nature of my days has become habit, but this really doesn't get any easier to get used to. The past two weekends began with disappointment, as his flights didn't work out, and rather than arriving late Thursday night, he wasn't able to get a working flight till Friday morning. That's the schedule for this week too, but at least we're expecting it this week, rather than it being an issue of weather problems.

I started to cry out of sheer frustration the moment I woke up on Sunday, from the oppressiveness of there's just no time. Two days and three nights is very little to cram contact into. On the other hand, it's not all horrible. His birthday was Friday, and we tried a new local restaurant that specializes in local, organic foods. The service was very friendly, the food was *wonderful* and it was a really nice way to spend a few hours. I do believe it's a decent replacement for our old favorite Italian place, since that closed down when the chef returned to Sicily a few years ago. We'd been so spoiled by Carmello (who would do things like a special 6 course meal for my birthday based on my favorite ingredients, I still dream of that meal) that we'd generally avoided Italian places since then, figuring it couldn't live up to his standards.

I've been doing a lot of my own cooking too. Since I really can't be bothered to cook every night, once a week I'll make a one-pot meal and eat that for the rest of the week, interspersed with pear-and-blue-cheese sandwiches. The first week was an Indian dish called kitchari, which turned out very so-so. A little too bland, a little too dry. Eh. The second week was vegetarian chili, which tasted like chili! Go me! The texture wasn't very chili-like since I'm both far too lazy to do that much fine chopping, and too unskilled to manage the knife and my long nails, so it was rather more chunky than a good chili should be, but still - it tasted like it should! For me this is quite something. Today was another Indian dish that I know as chana saag, chickpeas in a spinach gravy. The site I've been using calls it chole palak, though. There's got to be a regional difference as well, the dish turned out more spicy than I'm used to, and is somewhat different in flavor than what I get from our Indian takeaway place. Still, it's *very* good, and was easy! I'm quite lucky, one of my nearby supermarkets has a huge Indian section, so I'm well set to try the rest of the recipes on that site - next week is likely to be either pumpkin dal (with acorn squash rather than pumpkin), or squash curry.

During the day I've been focused on finishing a few outstanding art projects, and I'm coming to the finish line on one of them, which is actually quite something - if I screw up now, there's no saving it, and replacing the materials is rather easier said than done in our current financial situation. It's difficult to work up the courage right now. So, I've been working on painting masks for Faeriecon for the past two days, after browsing Etsy for inspiration. That's going quite well, on Sirs' mask in particular - I'd gotten some domino masks from a drugstore last year, and I've painted his copper, working the brush to give it a lightly hammered finish, and I'm painting some faux maple leaves to match, and I'll affix the leaves to the mask in a crown style. So far it's looking quite rich and elegant, and I have plenty of ideas for more. Those that we don't want to keep for ourselves will probably be put into storage to await the opening of my Etsy shop.
jadegirl: (Default)
There's a lot to get used to in this. The deafening silence of my days is a little much, but it's hard to find a radio station I like - there are surprisingly few radio stations to choose from. Music is always on, of course, but the lack of a real-time voice is a silence itself, if that makes sense.

There's much less cleaning to do, which makes me feel like I'm missing something obvious - while I jokingly call Sir 'Pigpen' frequently, he's not *that* messy.

That cats woke me several times last night fighting on top of me over cuddling space, as I'm apparently too thin to provide enough of a DMZ. I fantasize about stuffing them into a closet, Beyond Thunderdome style; "Two cats enter, one cat leaves!"

He's still recovering slowly from his cold, which adds to the general 'offness' of our interactions. While I have some quite mild symptoms, I'm doing fine in comparison. I'm also not in a hotel in Detroit. I doubt these facts are unrelated. We're loving Skype video chat, though.

This schedule is going to do rotten things for my social life, though. [livejournal.com profile] bethynyc and [livejournal.com profile] chelseagirl47, I won't be able to make the next few book club meetings, I'm afraid. I'd very much like to rejoin when he's back home regularly, but only having two days out of seven with any physical proximity requires a shift in priorities. I am, however, available for weekday afternoons/evenings for coffee dates, dinner, etc. *Very* available. I'll still be reading the books, as well.

To end on an up note, thanks to some birthday money it took me this long to actually *spend*, I have a new hat. I like it.
jadegirl: (honor)
Ah. Well. This should be interesting. Sir will be at a client site in Detroit Mondays through Thursdays from now until the second week of December, barring a week at another client, where I am blessed enough to accompany provided his father can cat-sit, and a few days of vacation here and there.

This is rather less than optimal. On the one hand, I will get megatons of work done on my art, since housework will be way down. On the other hand, 4 days a week of my own cooking. The physical stresses of that much flying on Sir have me a bit worried as well - that's a *lot* of time on airplanes, and air travel is getting worse, not better. Physical stress added to emotional stress will take a toll on anyone - we're both sick right now.

I am resenting the hell out of his client and employer, considering this is directly and entirely counter to what he was told last Tuesday, and we were made aware that all that changed last Wednesday. Even the cats are stressed by this - they're both very needy, but hate each other, so watching them try to negotiate my lap is both terrifying and hilarious.

The stress is playing with my concentration, as well as my physical state - I can't seem to summon to mental faculties for anything more than crossword puzzles. Sir's not doing much better, and is in much less comfortable environment - the hotel is less than generous with amenities. One bright spot is video-chatting, though. Being able to see one another is nice.

*shrugs* I know he's lucky to be employed in this economy, but that doesn't mean I can't wish life could be otherwise. I'm just hoping all his travel goes smoothly and comfortably.
jadegirl: (honor)
Oops. As an email from [livejournal.com profile] wlotus indicated, I'm an ass and haven't updated on how things have gone for the cat. We took him into the vet, and after a blood test discovered he's in the early stages of kidney failure. Now, this sounds worse than it is. He's 16 years old, and this is *very* common in senior cats. While it is eventually terminal, we've caught it quite early, and treatment is simple, if not *easy*. He gets an injection of subcutaneous fluids (simple electrolytes) on an "as needed" basis, essentially whenever I feel he's looking a little off. The fluids work like a charm, too - the next days he was chasing Isobel around the house just like he used to. I'm a little nervy about choosing *when* to give the fluids, it being based on my 'read' of him puts a pretty heavy burden on me, but on the other hand, I've always kept a good eye on him, and have shown some decent instinct in knowing when things aren't right. The vet said with his levels (the test that shows poor kidney function) being as low as they are it's not likely he'll need them more often than every 2 weeks or so right now, though since Sir is going away this week, we just gave him his first at home fluids.

That sucked.

Zazen's always been ornery, *except* at the vet, where he'll be a perfect angel. Now, I used to *work* for a vet, giving injections, bathing, doing all sorts of things to everything from kittens to Dobermans. Maybe I've lost the knack, but ouch. Even with all the good advice we've gotten and the research we've done it was still a wrestling match, and he managed to pop the needle out at the last, though we didn't try to do it again, since it was just a little bit. Either it'll get better with practice, or we'll get a restraint bag, or we'll pay the 25$ for the vet to do it. *sighs*

The problem may indeed be me. Work has Sir traveling a great deal on little notice, shifting our lives such that over the last week and half, we were never exactly where we thought we'd be a few days before. On Thursday we found out he needs to be on a plane to Detroit Monday, and we've no idea for how long - and this looks to be the way of things for the foreseeable future. That, combined with Zazen's issues, combined with a few other things has me under a not inconsiderable amount of stress. I'm understating things a bit. I'm a wreck.

However, after trying to rip my arm off, Zazen is now napping on my lap.
jadegirl: (honor)
I'm exhausted, sad, and anxious. Last night I noticed Zazen seemed to be having trouble using the litterbox (he actually wasn't *in* the litterbox, but that's honestly normal for him). After observing him for a while we decided to take him to the emergency clinic. Found out he was constipated, which was better than what we'd expected (a urinary blockage, so we did kind of dodge a bullet there). They gave him an enema, but he still didn't go, so they said if he didn't go by today we should get him to our own vet for another enema. Well, the enema worked about 4 minutes after we put him in the carrier to go home, luckily they helped me clean him and it up. So I called the vet today, and she said that since the enema did work I didn't have to bring him in right away, just keep giving him the stool softener I was given.

Here's the problem - we are supposed to go away this Wednesday, not returning till next Tuesday night. It's not a required trip, certainly not for both of us, but we were both quite looking forward to it - and we haven't had a lot go right for us of late, so a bit of nice is called for. *However* constipation is one of those things that can recur quite quickly - he hasn't done anything other than urinate today, as far as I know (like I said, he has terrible manners, so might have gone somewhere I haven't discovered yet, though I doubt it since I've been following him around.) I'm worried about him getting sick again while we're away - my FIL is going to come over to feed them, but still, that's both an awkward position to put him in, since he's not experienced with pets, and it's not like he can stay over here 24hrs.

I don't know what to do. If he doesn't pass anything today I'm of course going to take him to my vet tomorrow, but even if he does, I'm not sure we should go away...I'd like advice, please. I'm feeling pretty stressed out about all this, both the cat and the incipient disappointment.
jadegirl: (Need Fantasies)
http://www.hurricaneseasontour.com/live/

Saw this last night. The artists are *excellent*, fusing poetry, dance, and multimedia into an extraordinarily inspiring, powerful whole. The theatre is also an amazing space.
jadegirl: (traceyourhand)
It's hard to believe I've had this journal for coming up on nine years now. The form and purpose of it has changed so much over the years, from a place to simply organize my thoughts so I could better manage a mailing list I was mod for, to working through some serious philosophical problems, to a nearly random accounting of the day to day. It's seen me marry, become Buddhist, and develop a community to the point that *all* the people I consider my friends are related to this place in some way.

Now? I'm just not sure. Relationships and ways of relating change, of course, but more and more often the thought of posting makes me almost sad. I feel disconnected, unable to find a way to reach out and have a sense of being connected. Strangely, or perhaps not, I feel an almost cringing guilt about that, as if I've done something wrong. Maybe I have, I don't know. Circularly, this leads to more silence on my part, which can't help. Where do I go from here?
jadegirl: (Marko Hietala)
In spite of the early morning chill and rain, I convinced myself to head out to Solstice in Times Square for the free yoga class I'd registered for. I'm really, really glad I did. The teacher was very impressive, she had a real knack for stacking a pose into component parts which really opened it up, as well as a gift for explaining the anatomy of poses well enough to help us really get deeply aligned. The adjusters, about whom I was quite nervous, considering the EDS, were also quite talented and graceful/gracious. I was really, really pleased with them all, and have a pass for a free class at their studio - I'm going! It was quite an experience, doing something I love in a place I loathe - I'm hopeful about being able to carry that further out into city life.

After the hour and 45 minute class, during which the weather finally dried out a bit, I headed down to the Village to meet up with Sir, and from there we went up to Symphony Space to see Arturo O'Farrill and the Afro Latin Jazz Orchestra give a free concert. In a very happy accident, we met up with [livejournal.com profile] wlotus and T. It was a great show, (and free!), made even better by the company, and the opportunity to chat a bit afterwards, and share a train back into the village, where we went our seperate ways. Sir and I had a late lunch at a new tea shop (Lotus, it's not Sympathy for the Kettle, but it's not terrible, either.), ran a few errands, and headed home. The weather broke again just as we were getting onto the bus home, with a brief downpour.

All in all a flawless day, even better than I'd dared hope.
jadegirl: (Need Fantasies)
From [livejournal.com profile] firinel and [livejournal.com profile] xugglybug, we have Tactical Corsets. It's a sad but commonly cited point about much of femme fashion that my first thought is; "Eeee! Places to put my stuff!

The trip to St. John the Divine (speaking of which, Firinel, does it seem like a place you'd like to see? You were really on my mind while I was there, especially in their tiny little meditation garden, and the sculpture park.) has been crystallizing a lot for me. It's really the most expansive, visually oriented holy place I've ever seen, which led me to thinking about the artists involved in the making of the place, the idea of them trying to express what the Divine means to them. It's all metaphor.

Fairy tales are like that too, which got me thinking about my own art, and my own life. Everything I do is metaphor, everything is approached sideways. Dance and yoga - I've written about the body and its multitudes of expressions as a metaphor for the interior life often. My art is the same, things, ideas, hopes for myself and what I'd like to become all lost for words, creating my own iconography, an outer landscape of images, drawing a sort of map. Is that what we're all doing? I think it may be, sometimes. Giving a map to the outer world of our inner own, in the hopes that we might find a fellow traveler or two.
jadegirl: (honor)
In my neighborhood there's a supermarket 2 to four blocks away in three directions. There's also a corner 'greengrocer' 5 blocks away. Fresh produce is plentiful here, in a fairly low to middle income section of Astoria (it would be mainly low-income, but this co-op skews the balance). However, it's crap, mostly. If it's of decent quality, it's shockingly expensive, and the greengrocers wares are either astronomical, or already on their way to compost. There's a fruit stand that sets up near the F train at Queensbridge, but their wares are both expensive and awful.

In a "Dear God, maybe there's hope after all" moment, the city has begun approved 1000 produce carts placed in areas where fresh foods are hard to find. Most are in Harlem, Bushwick, and Bed-Sty, which leaves Queens to fend for herself as usual, but hey, it's a start. Reports are coming in that they're being very enthusiastically received.

I read one merchant near one of these carts bemoaning their presence, saying that if someone bought fruit from them they wouldn't buy soda or chips at his shop. Well, yes. That's the point. I can sympathize with some of the brick and mortar shopowners complaints, though - they have our stupidly high rents to pay, as well as other expenses the carts lack, but on the other hand, the carts are proving very popular - why not lower the prices and increase the quality of your own produce, and try to compete?

I've been following the ruckus over the new tobacco bill somewhat closely. I'm fascinated and perturbed by it, especially by much of the public commentary. I subscribe to the illness model of addiction, and am only a few months away from my last attempt to quit, which sunk me into a paralyzing, literally non-functional depression. The disparaging of people who smoke is getting remarkably mean-spirited. It's quite interesting.
jadegirl: (Need Fantasies)
My father just visited us for a week, the first time for quite a while. It's always nice to have him up, and this trip was a delight, since after randomly asking me to look something up on line, he wanted to go to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, inspired by his interest in Phillipe Petit, who is Artist in residence there. What an *amazing* place. We went on Monday, when there are no tours, and just walked around taking it all in, but there's simply so much to take in that we're already planning to visit several of the guided tours on his next visit.

Much of his visits are quite mellow, sitting around the house with books and music, taking advantage of my computer to look up things he's heard about, usually music, and reading books, or listening to him tell old stories. Thanks to some research Sir did while asking him questions about his side of the family (we know more about my mother's side) we've discovered that I'm not actually Norwegian by way of Scotland at all, but his fathers' people came from a village in Norway that got translated in a way that just happens to match a river in Scotland. We've managed to go a few centuries back, to my great surprise. Sir's good at that sort of thing, I just don't have the patience to sort through all those damned search results.

He kept paying for things, which drove me up a tree, as my parents don't have much money, but he said he felt good about it, that usually we pay for so much he feels like all he does is take. I can certainly understand that, but swallowing it with grace is something I need to get better at.

I escorted him to Penn Station this afternoon, and was inspired to buy a book of NY Time crossword puzzles on the way home. Ever since I was small, my father has always done the puzzles in the paper, sometimes he even calls me up when he can't figure out a clue he knows I'll know ("What's a three letter word for a Tolkien tree-spirit?" "An Ent, Dad." "Thanks." click) When he's here, we solve them together, and I enjoy it so much I decided to start doing them myself. When I told him I'd gotten a book of them, he told me he'd gotten the habit from his mother, who collected all sorts of crossword dictionaries, thesauri(?), and quotation books to help her solve them. It's fascinating, what moves down the generations.

Zazen spent every day curled up against Dad on the couch. Today he was curled up right where he'd been sitting all week, as if he was pining, or keeping dad's spot warm for him. Sweet.
jadegirl: (traceyourhand)
Well, that was lucky. I was just about to grab my jacket and head over to the bar on 33rd Rd where a few local people have been doing a heavy metal night once a month. Sir and I attended last time and had a great time, even though the beer selection was *awful*. It's an endeavor I've been eager to support, since it's a woman-owned bar here in Astoria, and the lead organizer of the event is a woman as well, and 'women in the metal subculture' is *not* one of the things you want to get me started on, so I figured I'd do my bit. A quick check of Facebook alerted me that it's not on - apparently when the organizer arrived there was a karaoke thing going on instead. I'm still waiting to hear if there was a mix up, or what else is going on. It's been a tiring day, though, so I'm not too torn up about staying in this evening, especially since I'll be at Penn Station early tomorrow morning, on my way to visit my mother, who has been campaigning for a visit. Since Sir is visiting his grandmother in California, the timing works out all right. (The finances didn't really allow for me to come along, and I'm an uncomfortable flyer.)

If there's a venue change for the event, I *really* hope it stays in Astoria - there's already been one suggestion to move it to Brooklyn, which makes me want to throw up my hands in despair. Brooklyn seems to get all the cool things. We've got tons of condos going up on the riverside, but lack all sorts of services - there's an independent bookstore on Broadway, but it's very strange - I really can't figure out what governs their selections, and I think their alphabetizing is done by the same people who write assembly instructions for furniture. We have a *ton* of great places to eat from a startling variety of cuisines, mostly quite reasonably priced, too, but one might like to do something other than eat and go home. There's one strip, Vernon Blvd., that's getting very built up, with higher end dining, and some jaw-dropping boutiques - I went in, looked at a pretty dress, checked the price tag and left, having seen similar items in indy boutiques in St. Mark's Place for half the price. Considering the current state of the economy, I just don't know what's going on there, especially since while there's some people in the condos, there aren't many, and the rest of the neighborhood is a combination of working class housing and warehouses/ the power station.

This all started with me being jealous of Brooklyn. They've got lots of independent retailers, a good handful of cabarets and music clubs, and we have...Meh. Ah, well. At least I never have to wait for a table at my favorite restaurants, so I suppose it all evens out in the end.

Sir left at 4:30 this morning, so I went on my habitual I-hate-loved-ones-getting-on-airplanes cleaning jag, and worked wonders on the bedroom, finally napping on the couch at about 7am, having exhausted everything that didn't involve too much noise. Midday I hopped down to the Union Square farmer's market to pick up some treats for my parents, and something to have for dinner. Interestingly, the vendors on market Fridays tend to be many more wineries, bakeries, and other 'prepared food' types, as opposed to the meats, dairy, and produce of Saturday morning. It's kind of neat to see the reflections of desire in the market.

It's kind of amazing to me how much a part of my life the market is, how dependent I am on it not just for physical nourishment, but emotional, as well. A large part of my life involves the clockwork of what flowers are available, right now we're coming to the end of lilacs and lily of the valley, but iris' and peonies are arriving. With the heat of late June and July will come the peaches, plums, and cherries, and heart-stopping dahlias, long-lasting sweet william, and corn ready for the grill.

My, this entry veers. In the end, thank you for this good life I lead, and forgive me if I do not love it enough.
jadegirl: (Marko Hietala)
Well, it took a few days, but I'm pretty recovered from the emotional impact of the Moths of Doom. It still makes me grind my teeth in frustration, especially since most of my 'make for myself' projects involved what they got to, but it is highlighting a lot of my technical development - much of the yarn and patterns I'd chosen were from early in my understanding of how these things work, which leads to a lot of "What, am I actually blind?" Things like heavy ornamentation in a horizontal line across the shoulders/upper chest (I have very broad shoulders, but am an A cup), no real waist shaping (accentuate the positive, damn it!), etc.

To be honest, sometimes it seems that a lot of knitters fall in love with and make garments for their own sake, rather than considering what actually suits them, both in terms of color and body type. I can totally understand that, as there are *gorgeous* patterns out there that would just not do a damn thing for me, and I can feel the 'finger-itch' to make them, but really, if I'm going to put that much of my life into something, why not have it make me look lovely, as well?

We saw the last Nightwish show of this tour (that we can get to) on Saturday. I've decided I really just don't like the Nokia theater - much of the crowd tends to live the stereotype of rude, jaded New Yorker, which can take away from the experience. Seeing them at the Chance in Poughkeepsie and the Troc in Philadelphia was much more fun, and I got shoved a lot less. Interesting, the odd mix of a lack on engagement with the show, and yet all the shoving to get up front. (I was one person behind the front rail.) Also, why are you standing behind me when you're under 5 feet tall? In spite of this the band put on an excellent show, we got the live album insert signed, and I got to stand right in front of the bassist,(the man in my icon) upon whom I have a crush worthy of a 14 year old. *squees*

Oh, damn.

Apr. 22nd, 2009 12:46 pm
jadegirl: (Default)
Remember the larvae infesting one of my teddy bears? Clothes moths. Yes, every fiber artists nightmare. My early handspun is a loss, as is a 2 pound cone of imperial purple silk I got for a song at a yard sale, and was working with - 4 feet into a 6 foot stole. Also the wool I was using for a vest for myself. An entire trunks worth of protein-based fibers (animal hair and silks) just gone. It's not my entire stash, I has two separate containers, and one is clean, after being lovingly inspected with bright light and a magnifying glass, but all my current me-or-gift projects are a loss. I'd been working on the stole for years as my travel project, and had recently begun a big push to complete it as a gift for my mother, because her 60th birthday hit right in my last bout of depression. Bah!

Mail love!

Apr. 20th, 2009 05:56 pm
jadegirl: (Default)
Hey, [livejournal.com profile] telescope_merc, I got the Cd's today - thank you!

Do you happen to have the tracklistings? Itunes can't find the song names.

(*eee* New music is yay!)
jadegirl: (honor)
"I never ride with a helmet either, even when people are telling me I’m an idiot. Riding a bike should be normal, and you shouldn’t have to wear a funny Styrofoam hat.”

There are two NYT articles on cycling in the Fashion and style section. One focuses on the "Dutch" bike, a lovely machine with fenders, chain guards, a heavy frame, and other such eye catching elements. European, obviously, but apparently catching on here. I like the looks of it, but wouldn't buy one myself, aside from the wince inducing price - while it looks like it would stand up to brutal use, I need a folding bike, something that can store in my apartment, since the storeroom one can rent a space in in my building seems to serve only as a holding area for bike thieves. Also, it looks damn heavy. The second article is about male fashions that either *are* or *should* catch on when riding such bikes - I can never tell with the NYT.

The quote above comes from the first article. The second also disparages helmets. Right. Back before my bike got stolen I remember going down to Vernon Blvd to run errands. I saw a hobbyist level cyclist leaving his apartment with his titanium ultralight, wear riding gloves, helemt, an old race jersey, the whole thing - the sort of guy who has subscriptions to bike magazines. Coming home, I passed an ambulance, where the cyclist was being loaded into the back after being pasted by an SUV. He looked like *hell*. He's likely still alive, though, since he was wearing a helmet. Just like I'm alive after being hit by cars three times in my riding life, because I wear a helmet. Of course a helmet won't save you in all circumstance from all injury, or even death, but really, can't common sense win out over leaving a fashionable corpse just once?

On the other hand, I just remembered a study being done that showed drivers were less likely to be careful around a cyclist wearing a helmet. Maybe we're just screwed. :)
jadegirl: (honor)
I feel like something has broken, like I'm riding a bike with a slipping chain. It's as if this last bout of depression has snapped something in how well or badly I react to situations around me - I feel more easily disappointed/saddened/angered. Maybe it'll fix itself, it's the right time in my cycle to be hormone related (I think), but it doesn't feel like that. Maybe it'll fix itself just because.

Talking to Sir last week I mused about the possibility that I'd actually been depressed for quite some time now, and quitting smoking just pushed me over into non-functional. I'd essentially abandoned my art, largely disappeared off the face of the net, even simply not responding to emails, much less LJ, as my journal shows. There were brief flashes of trying to reach out again, but I proved to be a most unreliable narrator. Only quite recently have I begun posting/commenting broadly again, and working on things other than housework at home.

Actions have consequences, though. After flaking out as hard as I had over the past near year, it seems like there's less to come back to - relationships seem to have lost something. It makes perfect sense - I would have dropped me like a hot rock after so long without any effort being reciprocated. The only thing I can do, I guess, is see what builds from here, and try to treat it better next time I fall.
jadegirl: (Marko Hietala)
Some of you may know that I have, at times, an uncomfortable relationship with food. My issues around it are usually just a dull buzz in the back of my head, but considering the drain on my emotional energy my recent bout of depression was, they grew a lot louder. Like the depression they have dull over the past week or so, but the mind is kind of like muddy ground, thoughts making deep grooves that can be difficult to smooth.

Here in NYC all chain restaurants recently had to post the calorie content of their offerings. I'm actually rather late on this, since it can be difficult to go to a chain in Astoria, and I don't eat fast food. Breakfast two weeks ago had me goggling at a menu in a local chain bakery, my eyes locked on those devilish numbers, instantly scrapping the thought of what I'd initially wanted to order. (luckily, what I chose was just lovely) Today I'd dropped off the laundry, and decided to treat myself to a Dunkin Donuts hot chocolate, since I've always loved it. Amusingly, I was once again startled by the calorie counts, posted *everywhere*. When I saw the count for my hot chocolate, I actually had to argue with myself, pointing out I'd only had a handful of almonds, and would be having soup, and maybe a few beers tonight, since we're going out to a bar. I had to force myself out of the disordered thinking, into ordering a silly cup of hot chocolate. I'll be avoiding chains in the future, and Sir says that when we're at one, he's not going to let me see a menu, and he'll order for me. Normally, I don't even consider the calories in what I eat, but when they're in front of me, I can't seem to think about anything else.

There's a movement building steam in NYC to cut the salt out of restaurant food - how on earth to they intend to accomplish that? Of course, I'm well aware I'm in a minority with both my food issues and my need for salt (doctor's orders, very low blood pressure) Let's not even talk about the trans-fat ban that made a lot of ethnic foods just worthless around here, like cannoli. While I know they aren't healthy, I'm troubled by feeling so hemmed in. It's a good thing Sir is such a great cook, and enjoys it.
jadegirl: (honor)
It's a bit like moving to another country, realizing your life has changed and that you must change along with it - bend or break. My life is not what it needs to be if I am to stave off/cope with a recurrence of depression. Even more simply, it isn't what it could be, nor am I. That's ok, we have the technology.

At home there is my art, which I am resettling into kind of like trying on the new seasons wardrobe, some things feel like they fit oddly, too tight or too loose, or zippers and buttons need replacing. I'm working on three distinct art projects right now, each requiring different techniques and levels of concentration. There's also my personal knitting projects. Sirs schedule is unfortunate to say the least, but we try to make it out for an evening once a week - this week is 'heavy metal night' at a new local bar on Friday. At home we have a nice, flexible routine, full of varying things. On Sunday I made tea in our travel mugs an we walked around the grounds of our co-op, looking at all the new growth and soaking in the warmth of the sun.

Outside the home...nothing. Nothing at all. Looking for work was a disaster, I can't even find a cleaning gig. I used to have the yoga studio, but that's just not in the cards right now. So, I'm going to send in an application to volunteer at the Doctors Without Borders office a couple of days a week. I hope it goes through, although I know that volunteering is very popular right now, with plenty of people who have more recent office experience than mine. If that falls through, I'll look elsewhere. I'm also musing about maybe finding a book group or something of the sort.

Basically, my life has shrunk, and I'm looking to widen it again, reaching out and touching relationships that have gone too long unattended, putting myself more fully in the world. We'll see what happens.
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