Well Happy Superbowl season! And/or Valentine's. And/or ski break!

Yes, I did leave 2023 on a bit of a Cliffhanger and I didn't even mentions of Christmas, but... well... 

I'm sort of trying to figure out a balance here. 

I asked Allan if she'd like to choose a picture for my blog and this is the one she chose, so... enjoy. 

Good point, ND is not even remotely just autism and ADHD and it isn't actually code for "weird." But I like the word weird. It technically means "fate" and "uncanny" and "supernatural". So ... bring it. 

But I digress.

I'm trying to be more aware of Allan's online persona. I do check with her before publishing anything (which can contribute to the longer publishing delays) but even then... It's an interesting balancing act for somebod who overshares and thus oversharents by instinct. 

Well then, you say...

How are you? (Fine, fine and you?)

Maybe you don't. But you probably do. Cuz that's what we do. 

SO it's a stereotype, but also it's pretty clear from social media that a lot of autistic people really abhor certain scripted conversations rituals that make up the bulk of "small talk." A lot of exasperated "if you didn't want to know how I was WHY DID YOU ASK ME??" 

I don't really take issue with the little baubles of small talk. I loved working in a customer facing job and having the same few conversations all day. The clarity of the script was so refreshing. The familiarity was grounding. 

Also, I find all those little "non-communicative" conversational rituals fascinating. Linguistic anthropology could be said to be within my special interests. Harrold Pinter said in much better ways that language is essentially a smoke screen to cover up the actual things being communicated, and that's always fascinated me. I am drawn non-literal conversation of any kind. (even if I get exasperated with it when it's in my personal life and i just want to call "scene" and ask everyone their motivation)

 If you say "how are you?" I'll say "fine" and we'll both know that we really just said "hi, I acknowledge your presence and maybe if our miens indicate interest we could warm this into a conversation". I also say "bless you" when somebody sneezes and think nothing of the theological implications of such.

While we're dallying with small talk: the weather! I do not understand people who dismiss weather talk. 

Weather is life! It impacts everything! And being hypersensitive to everything, it's a huge deal for me. 

I don't understand most of meteorological science, but I love it anyways. I still read Cliff Mass even if his political rants are a little off putting. I miss my weather twitter. 

My (obviously totally 100% neurotypical I'm sure) dad and I mostly communicate through short emails sent throughout the day, frequently entirely about the development of the weather in our various locations. And you know what... it really works. 

Which is to say, it's been awfully warm this year and we haven't had almost any snow. That apparently qualifies this year for "worst year ever" so far. SO that really says it all

So... you say, indicating a complete change in meaning of the exact same phrase, how are you?

What, me? You really want to know? Fine. Fine. But to say much more, there's going to have to be some sharenting here.

How can I write about my life without writing about my kid when my life is in fact my kid?? None of us exist absent of context. So how do we tell our own story without potentially trampling or co-opting somebody else's?

Case in point, much of my life is involved with schools and impromptu homeschools right now.  

Background: school has lots of cool things and also it's pretty exhausting and hard for some kids.I have read that school refusal/avoidance really should be called school anxiety. Because its not willful. And this feels true. But it's also really complicated. IEPs can help I hear!

Also, damn IEPs take a looooong time. Or a lot of work. Or... something. First there are some initial evaluations for various diagnoses that are deemed likely to make the IEP process "easier" (very much in the "all relative" arena). THEN you eventually decide those were taking too long and go ahead and make the referral requist anyways. 

After the referral, the school gets a professional to do an investigation - over the course of 21 school days. Not regular days, not work days or week days, but school days. This is an investigation over whether an investigation should be done to see if the child should get an IEP.

 There are more forms and evaluations during the pre-evaluation plan. Then there's a meeting

... and THEN there is another 40 school days during which another evaluation process happens. And then there's a meeting and then... and then I think we are flown to an island of demi-gods to battle dinosaurs for a magical special needs gauntlet which we must then exchange with the Sea Witch for the Little Mermaid's voice which is then mixed with rainbow unicorn sneezes and offered in a blender to the initial evaluator... Or something like that. 

So, that's been fun. 

 Also fun: watching a lot of movies. Movies are the new hotness in the Wright household. TV is so last year. Youtube is probably the endless void, but movies are discrete, definitive and... yes, if you get up at 5:30 in the morning you can fit one in before school and that does make for a surprisingly easier transition (even if suddenly my one me-time of the day is now an us-time)

The favored flicks are all animated, which I enjoy mostly. That said, you gotta watch out for Disney and their ridiculously... 

Giant eyes!!!!

NOOOOOOOOOO

So I don't know if this is at all related to my particular neurotype and generally actually finding eye contact a little overstimulating... It's not that I can't make it. I absolutely make and return eye contact with people out and about. But if I feel really close to you, I probably do it a lot less. Because i find it distracting and a bit grotesquely vulnerable. There's just so much going on with eyes. I'll feel a little guilty if you keep looking at me and I don't return your gaze, but consider it intimacy if I drop the mask and continue not to meet your gaze. 

But also... 

I hate this. I hate it I hate it I hate it. I don't know why but it squicks me the heck out. Especially the weirdness of the shape and the excess white and the drugged out nighttime pupils. 

I also am not a fan of her teeny tiny nose and her non-existance chin (like seriously are disney princesses just extremely skinny and tall babies?), but the eyes are what freak me out. 

It extends from structural elements of the face - from the cheekbone to the eyebrow line. And that just feels like her eyes are EATING her face. And possibly me. 

I love Rapunzel, but I would pay for an app that shrunk her eyes down to half size. Or even 3/4 size. 

And yet, I still hate the Frozen eyes more than Rapunzel eyes even though she's technically even more bug eyed (and seriously girl, did you just come back from the optometrist or are we pounding edibles here?) 

And seems like it's a lazy norm in animation these days. 

BORING INTO YOUR SOUL!

Yes yes I know. Bigger eyes are more expressive and look more like babies which we're conditioned to think of as cute, and bigger pupils are more attractive... but like ... to a point, and then it's just weird!

 I think it bothers me MUCH more when it's rendered in 3D. While I don't dig the giant eyes of every cartoon character ever, it passes more into uncanny valley territory with the animation.

 Maybe it also just feels like the 3D art is a bit same-same. Sort of plastic looking. More like dolls than people, but still a bit too much like people somehow. 

That said, it can get pretty squicky with, say, the anime styles that go above and beyond...

I'm sorry. She looks more like a bug creature and I hate it. 

I have no problem typically with animals having "cute eye". Becaues they're animals I guess? And it's usually less extreme. Then again cute lil eyes are pretty darned cute to me... 

Dear Disney: Please stop please! I know I am only one quirky autistic person, and that for whatever reason this seems to be my individual hangup, but my child single handedly watches the entirety of your catalogue on a daily basis and I am a part of that, so for my sake??? 

Since movies - animated in particular - have become the thing, I've seen a lot. During Allan's first official "sick day" we watched 8 movies, for instance. 

I am a sucker for a good story, but I've been focusing more on animation style itself. There is a really cool variety these days and some real hackiness in the made-for-Netflix brand. And yet, actually even with Netflix, you can find a lot of creativity. And many styles don't rely on gigantic baby bug eyes to give their characters expressive faces!

A few animation styles I have been digging. Note most of them aren't creepy scary bug eyed babies even if some of the principles of that aesthetic are still embraced: 

 They did amazing comic book things with it and really leveled up what visuals can do for setting tone and story telling 

Really really beautiful work. 

I believe i read they used 6 different styles of animation in this film and it comes together really evocatively. 

Generally Pixar has more interesting 3D style

Soul: stylized again but in an original and interesting way. Almost a hint of claymation to the aesthetic. 

Marvel's What If...? (especially the second season) takes more of the 1990s super hero comic/cartoon approach but levels it up a fair bit with good CGI and a lot of subtle detail. 

Then speaking of Netflix, there's this... 

Sea Beast is surprisingly cool looking. From the "beasts" to the people, it had some extra draw and generally felt less plasticine. 

And of course there's Puss in Boots; The Last Wish. Which was gorgeous! They used a really great mix of styles through different periods of the movie that synched beautifully with the music and had a really cool feel throughout.

Looking back to its origins, hey, Princess Fiona looked pretty ok too

 either way

Or you know... we could just go straight for the eyes here and go Blue Eye Samurai

Very noticeable eyes and yet... 

They did some amazingly cool things with animation in this series as well. Drawing from traditional japanese art, anime, and other forms of animation as well as 3d. 

There are some gorey scenes and they do them justice but also some very delicious ones. Especially in one of the later fight scenes when the hero(ine) has been dosed with hallucinogens. It gets trippy. 

Well, I guess that was a bit of a serpentine route through my psyche, but that's the best I can say for "how am I". 

Not bad

A lil bit worn out. 

Enjoying some fine animation and surviving some other! 

And a little bit about  Allan...

Actually Allan has specifically requested I write about her being sick earlier. 

Because she was... indisposed for a fat long while and it was... well, not exactly fun but on the other hand I think we watched about 15+ movies in the interim so that was a win at least. 

Some time in late January, Allan had a field trip. It was apparently an awesome event and she loved it. But I'm also gonna guess that there were many other buggy children all squished into a bus together on the way to and fro. 

The next day, she was in a bit of a state. She really didn't want to go to school, but she was having a meet up with a nurse who was doing some evaluation stuff and Allan really really wanted to talk to Nurse Shelly. So she went despite my better judgemetn. Apparently it was not a great day, except for the part with Nurse Shellie, which was fantastic and made up for everything. 

By the afternoon Allan was perfectly fine. 

By the evening, Allan was kind of tired and kept complaining of being "cold." I figured she was literally just wiped out after the field trip and a tough day at school. 

She went to bed like normal, and then came to find me after I'd gone to bed. I cuddled with her for a while until Andrew could come relieve me. Then, just as I was about to go back to sleep, I heard some commotion and saw the text "Allan just threw up!"

When I emerged from the bedroom, they were downstairs getting her cleaned up, so I went ahead and cleaned the fairly inundated bedsheets. Allan eventually passed out on the couch downstairs and was still pretty cozy there by the morning. 

She had a fever, so we gave her ibuprofen and she seemed ... not bad. Watched about 8 movies to relish the sick day exception to our screen time limits. She seemed to be feeling better. 

The next day, we figured she was in fact better. No fever. Generally good color. And she'd had a hard time sleeping the night before, which I over-optimistically attributed to too much television. 

Then about midday she drank a ton of sprite and got very uncomfortable, claiming she had to "burp". Apparently "burp" really means "puke your stomach contents out".  So the rest of that day was less fun, with the occasional puke fest and not a lot of joy about the general ickiness of that. 

The next day was harder, with her unable to keep down even plain water and popsicles, which are our usual go tos. We started trying to pace her drinking, one small sip every five minutes. Which worked until we got confident and went to once every couple of minutes. The evening ended in baptism yet again. I was starting to research urgent care iv options just in case this persisted and she was kind of weak and dizzy. 

the next day we had a program in which Allan paced her drinking to once every five minutes for the entire morning and into the afternoon. She finally felt rehydrated and put her drink down. We still rested. 

the next day she could drink but didn't really want to eat. And therefore mostly needed to rest. We eventually had about one cracker or two. She tried popcorn. No thanks. She tried saltines, ok but no thanks. 

Finally the day after that, she ate a bagel and it tasted good. Popsicles came back into rotation. By bedtime she even had some plain gnocchi. Still in a deficit, but doing better. 

A few more days of tired and she was back in business. 

 Allan has approved this account of how 2024 did not necessarily start off to the most fun note. She would also like to point out that it did not actually snow the way it was supposed to and that was kind of lame. 

So far February has been a far superior month. 

Also: Fine. How are you?

Ooops...

Very much 

Oops... 

 I didn't do it again... I forgot to write this blog... got lost in my head... oh baby baby, oops you think this gets updated and it's sent from abooooooooooove 

but I'm not

that

organiiized. 

Sorry, not sorry. Hello again. I wrote almost all of this a month and change ago and then failed to post it. (extra appropriate given this blog details my AuDHD diagnoses... point made) 

So hop onboard train Exxcecutive Dysfunction and come along with me for a tour of the Wright late-autumn!

As we last left it, the victory of Allan's final covid shot culminated in... a little convalescence...

She slept all of the Saturday after her shot, and was very low energy on Sunday. By Monday we assumed she was feeling better but she was still totally spent. To add insult to the injury (ironically) the bandaid they'd given her for her flu shot gave her a pretty bad rash reaction. And that may have been related to her being up in the middle of the night. I read up on it and apparently it's rarely an allergy and usually more often irritant dermatitis. But nonetheless, it was brutal. 

And emotionally wearing. Which I know because later that day I tried to wipe something off too roughly and she broke into tears bawling "I don't want to grow up to be like you!!" I thought she was just generally cursing her name, but then she clarified she didn't want to be allergic to everything and always have rashes. Ugh. Sorry kid. I have no clue what might happen with that. 

Regardless, she was sick enough (if she was sick. We figured it was the shot, but who knows) to miss school and even if it was a close call, she'd lost an entire weekend so... 

Thought we'd see if she got bored staying at home. 

She actually didn't. It was a chill mellow day. 

That ended with a desperate need for a playground that I could not sate, given it was dinner time. I told her several times that at eight, she is mature enough that I'm comfortable with her going on her own. But she was not in the mood. "What if I forget the way?" I was like "dude, you do that two block walk every day. But yeah... it's possible."

Anyways, she was happy enough to go to school the next day. Which was good beacuse it was, after all, Halloween!

Which was AWESOME

She was, as is custom, a black cat. She wanted me to be a witch of course. And Andrew added himself into the mix as the devil. Dashing bloke indeed. 

(wearing several layers of insulation underneath his suit because it was actually pretty cold that night. 

And full of lights!

Had the week ended there, that might have been about enough. (DAIYENU!!)

But no! The show must go on. Wednesday was a relatively mild early release (as always) day. Then Thursday there was a field trip! Oh my! To the SCIENCE MUSEUM!

And a playdate. That did not end super well. Allan was a bit overstimulated and probably would have been happy to just have a mellow day at home. She did begin the playdate by ignoring her friend entirely. This created some discomfort. I fed them both some apples. Her friend ate all of the apples - four of them - and then - you'll be shocked - came down with a tummy ache. Around the time Allan decided she wanted to play. Ended up with Allan screaming and her friend literally hiding from her so well I started to get worried she'd run out the door and I'd have to explain to her parents that I'd lost their kiddo (turns out she was just in the tent and Allan missed her entirely when she went to look... phew). 

Meaning by Friday Allan was pretty over it. The day didn't go well from what I hear. 

Kid gets tired is all!

The weekend was somewhat refreshing and full of feels. By Monday Allan was relatively back to her baseline. Almost. She was tired in the morning so I offered her these mint chocolate cliff bars that have caffeine in them. Not that much and she's had one before without much effect, but she was wired on Monday. I thought maybe it was the bar, but then she was equally hepped up by the evening so who knows. I reminded her dutifully that she had intended to try out her loop earplugs at school that day. So she did. And they had fallen out by the time we were midway to school. Ensuring that she went to school in a miserable spot. Mother of the year of course. 

i did however find the lost earplug after some breakfast and a little recovery. They were in the street in a puddle. This is why you need to always get bright flourescent objects for your children. Easier to spot in the dingy abbadons of despair that they will inevitably lose them in!

That Monday was a bit of an exciting day as I had my autism evaluation in the afternoon. So obviously I could not accomplish that much during the day other than feel a little nervous, tend to my monster list of notes/outline and generally try to tamp down the chaotic sprawl of a weekend at home!

Allan has a regular playdate with the same playmate on Mondays, but Andrew wasn't necessarily too keen on watching two kids on a playdate (they can sometimes go awry in two-parent-minimum-kind-of-ways). And same at the alternative household. Dads can work and watch, but playdates are a lil extra. But in this case, Allan's bestie is very persuasive. When I went to pick Allan up, I was waylaid by bestie and dad. I explained we couldn't have her over and she was like "that's ok, Allan can come over!"

Of course since this was impromptu, we weren't quite ready to put the plan into effect. So, Allan and I walked back to the house to grab a boostere seat and - very important - a stuffy. And then after all kinds of to-do... she was off! I was free!

 With a half hour to wait.,, 

I went upstairs and staged my interview area with a drink, a good cross breeze, a few layers, the right number of pillows, my extensive word doc and my journal with a couple of pencils.

 And... it was still like 20 minutes early. So I logged into the telehealth site to make sure everything worked. It did. I waited until 15 minutes to go to actually "knock" and get myself into a waiting room. The email had said to check the link about 15 minutes before so I figured this was reasonable. I always wonder if they can watch you in the waiting room and basiscally diagnose from there. I spent my time playing Britney Spears' Toxic (I'm in a bit of a Britney SpIn after reading her book and introducing Allan to the music video genius of her work. Watching Oops I Did It Again is a frequent morning event now) and figeting/singing/talking to myself. 

The eval was exhausting but affirming. A lot of talk later and we were discussing whether a diagnosis should be officially billed to insurance and put on the medical record. I said "let's do it" and now I'm official!

Oh and not just Autism but also ADHD. Which I guess most of the time if you're autistic you're prolly a little ADHD too. AuDHD officially. Which is weird to me because I am pretty damned organized and pretty intensely focused... well... when something grabs my attention. 

My understanding of the "attention" in ADHD is that it''s less of a deficit of attention thing and more like you can't really chose what you focus on. I remember watching Avatar (the icky blue alien one, not the cool nicktoon) in 3D in the theaters. I remember it bothering me a lot that in a 3D world I could not shift my focus the way I would if I were just looking at an actual scene. The flower behind the actors would always be blurry no water how I tried to bring it into focus. I had no choice unless the camera decided to shift. That's kind of how I see ADHDyou don't get to shift focus at will. 

Add in the autistic tendency to fixate anyways. Oh I will be focusing. My attention will be intense. But shifting it is maybe a lost cause. From my understanding it's a bit of a constant battle in my brain between routine and familiar and new and exciting. 

Obviously for some people the ADHD has a higher weight. For me, I think I tend towards the familiar and just honor my dopamine challenges by losing my wallet and forgetting to shower for the third day in a row. But I coulda done that just being autistic! Still! 

I guess I do own three or four copies of almost every important item placed strategically throughout the house lest one of them be "misplaced" or broken! Some people need meds. I just need 15 nail clippers, 2 backup phones, and five or six thermometers in every room of the house... 

I'm madcap and/or absentminded is all! Something Katherine Hepburn can play anyways

And the world kept spinning with this new understanding of myself, which I suppose I'd already reached in many regards. Having an official diagnosis did not change a ton for me, but I'm glad it has happened. And I do think it gives me slightly more permission to listen to myself and be true to who I am. 

And hopefully that transfer to Ms. Allan as well. She's always been pretty good and being true to herself... at least at home. I do worry that she's getting more and more of an imperative to "act normal" or at least be "less weird." Less of a "cry baby". Less not-like-everyone-else. And that feels tiring. I know it is for her. She says so. We started a game of ranking tiredness from 1 to 10. On days where there's school she's up to 9 and 10. On weekends and days off, she's at 2 or 3. 

The return from Thanksgiving was rough. With a slight cold and a complete fear of school, she stretched out sick days almost all week, except for a really really rotten Thursday. I was getting out the backup homeschool emergency plans. But she recovered over the weekend and had a good first week of December school anyways so... a nice big question mark going into the new year!

We're trying to expand her accomodations at school to give her more breaks. I just hope that is enough. Because I do notice small signs of burnout. And I've been there. And I would rather she not be. 

We get the rest we can. Allan likes compression. Sometimes my resting my legs across her back is even better than a hug (and fairly comfortable for to boot, so no complaints here!)

Maybe she just needs a tent or a fort that can be built over her desk!

Accomodations are on their way, but things are a little harder than we expected. 

Ironically it turns out Allan's not diagnosed with autism! Psych! Or anti-psych! The lady we were working with (the one we interviewed with, filled out forms for and talked about wanting to get our daughter evaluated for autism from) certainly kept inviting us to schedule meetings when we said we were looking for an evaluatino, opined that Allan's results indicated autism very conclusively before ending an appointment with us... but I guess she thought she was going to write a letter to an actual evaluator. Or help us with our 504. Or... something.

Allan's OT can't diagnose. The other therapist who has been sure about this for a while and gave us a ton of resources also can't diagnose. Nobody who's onboard with what feels more and more apparent cannot diagnose. So... Allan remains in waiting list vaccuum with an "anxiety" and "social anxiety" diagnosis

So the process continues. Luckily she has some really awesome people at the school working for her and they are really helping us out. 

It's just... I don't have that many spoons either. This is as lie. I like those little munchkin spoons so much I bought two packs of 10. I have a decent number of spoons. THey're just kind of little spoons. Pacing is vital. And, since our dishwasher continues to evade pure functionality, washing the spoons frequently by hand seems preferrable somehow. Which is to say, I have no idea. What day is it? What? 

Oh yeah, it's tiring but on we got. We have leads for an actual evaluatory. AND a new therapist (Penny is leaving us again, sob sob). AND a new OT (maybe hopefully). A lot of waiting and screw it, let's get on to the holidays, cuz nothing's getting resolved until after that. 

Hannukah is a go!

Though as much as Allan claims she love the sufganiyot (donuts) and wants them again next year, she ended up not eating much of hers and has subsequently requested the chocolate croissants that I always keep for treats instead of the holiday treats. Ah well. More for Andrew. Who had better hurry, because they're starting to get stale!!!

I imagine I'll either write five blog entires before the new year or check in again some time in February. The mystery of it all!

But just in case, Happy Happy HOlidaze and best wishes for the new year 2024 is gonna be lit! We got tons of candles, so I guarantee it!

Vax to the Future! Or Trying to get Anything Done Ever

This is the story of a girl, who had no energy for the whole world... but a lot to get done! Something about the turn of fall that just brings on the must dos and the dosey doos and the ...  yeah can she manage to schedule her way through it all or will she paralyze with overwhelm and keep scrolling... just keep scrolling...  

10/18  

The calendar said Ballard Natural Gas 8-9 a.m. 

Because they often send somebody who reeks of cologne, I opened all the windows before I left to drop off my old phone (my new phone finally arrived! Thank god! (Also I don't love it and I wish I had a fancier but equally small version of my old Pixel 4a... ah well)). 

Went to the UPS store... actually it was prepaid through FedEx. 

Whoops. 

Went to the FedEx in the Walgreen's by our house. Nobody was at the counter so eventually the teller called me over and said she could handle it at the general checkout. But I hadn't taped it together, since UPS always handles that themselves. So I went and bought some tape. Spent an awkward and painful amount of time trying to tape the label on the top of the box, while another customer watched me struggle impatiently. The customer was restless, I was more flustered. The cashier relented and tried to help. The tape did not want to go on! Or come off the roll!

At any rate, I got home at about 8:50, assuming that BNG would either be in progress or just arriving. They werent, so I got to eat my breakfast unmolested in the kitchen.

Then I hand washed my dishes, because... 

We seem to have a cursed dishwasher!!!

So I don't know what's wrong with our dishwasher. I think it's possessed. Or has dishwasher GERD or something. All I know is it seems to be vomiting dirty gross water back up into itself (and our clean dishes). 

It's gotten "better." Actually quite a bit. Andrew did something that slowed down the disgustingness. But I'm not convinced it's that much "better"

I feel like this isn't fully healed somehow. But I did clean the filter (yet again!) and it had been more than a week since I last cleaned it, so I guess we'll see. Maybe we just have a really high maintenance dishwasher

this is after I cleaned it with a tooth brush and three cycles of those dishwashing tablets: 

Most of my life I have had a preferred "bowl" (often it's one of those giant chili mugs, but currently it's an actual bowl because my lasts chili mug broke), a preferred mug/bottle/glass, and a little bit more of a loose preference for cutlery. So long as they are of suitable size and shape anyways. I use the same ones for every meal and am happy. Occasionally I use a plate, but usually just to cover up my bowl in the microwave. I have my ways. 

 I somewhat prefer just having enough that I wash between meals and re-use. But it's a little more onerous when it's three people. And it's more onerous still when you have dermatitis. 

The thing that really brought me over to the dishwasher dark side back in 2017 or so was reading that it was in fact way more ecological to wash dishes with a dishwasher. How to disagree with mother nature? 

But then again, I dunno. When the dishwasher is routinely spitting up on your dishes... well... we still run it, but I've taken to handwashing the cutlery and my individual bowl and cups. It's a strange compromise but it works. For now.  

At any rare, breakfast eaten, dishes washed... BNG was still not here. 

But... they could be there at any moment... So I refused to make any phone calls or do anything on my list that couldn't be interrupted. I am a person who will get this impending sense of "any minute now" once something is scheduled, and I cannot do further tasks until it is accomplished and likely really not until a day after it's accomplished. 

After another half hour I decided to close the windows again, because it was getting down below 60 degrees. 

But I still hovered like one of Tenesse Williams' footless birds. 

I don't really like making phone calls. And I find it even more stressful to do so when they might be interrupted. The waiting. The hold. The explaning that I got a call and that my doctor said call them. The scheduling annoyance of being asked "what works for you" without any explanation of what is likely available to the doctor. The explaining about various allergens... it's a headache. 

 So I'll wait days if necessary until the absolute perfect conditions to do so. Which is silly because I could just get it over with and all. But here we are. I have a window for phone calls that must align with perfect mental and spiritual clarity.

 I also skipped getting my blood draw because I was too hungry by the time I could have gone out for it and it's technically a fasting test. But really I just hate blood draws and I will draw (har har) this shiznet out for weeks. 

I'll get to it eventually. Today is the day to survive Ballard Natural Gas! That's what was on the list. It apparently takes all day. And until they've actually arrived and finished up and the strong cologney odor has been vanquished with extra ventilation... That's all I will be able to adult about today.

By 9:40, I asked Andrew if the arrival window had really been 8 to 9 or maybe just a wider range. He said he actually had no idea. I said, "whichever" in a casual sing song, but what i really meant was "are you insane?? This is absolutely crucial information that I cannot fully live or function without... how do you not see this is life or death??" When he came down for coffee at about 10:30, he said "yeah it must have been one of those things like "before lunch" 

My heart sinks even in the retelling. 

Because in my head, if there's a window and they don't arrive within it... maybe they won't arrive at all. maybe there won't be people rummaging thorugh my space stinking it up, occasionally demanding that I act polite and interested and possibly discuss features of my appliances, which I have little interest or energy in doing. Though if they wanna take a stab at our dishwasher... all blessings to them

By 11:59, they still hadn't arrived, so much for the "by lunchtime" theory. At least, for me "lunchtime" is basically noon on the dot. I realize that it's probably more like a window between about 11:30 and 1:30 or so for most people. Possibly even less precise. My father-in-law, for instance, eats his "lunch" at about 5:30 p.m. But to me. This is what it is. This is how my brain likes to translate it. So ... a bit of relief crept in.... did I get to relax and assume they aren't coming yet?? This is what my brain asked itself anyways.

Eventually Andrew called and it turns out we weren't even on the schedule!

But too late. What's done is done. My task for the day was accomplished. Sort of. 

I recalibrated my weekly mental goals as Andrew scheduled another and/or a first appointment and we went on with our days. 

Blood test. Phone calls. Definitely could be done the next couple of days... or... maybe not! 

10/19

Thursday morning I woke up with a swarm of bees in my aorta. Or something. Not in terms of pain, although I have plenty of lovely pangs that may either be gas, heartburn, or that slipped thorasic disc they found during my last chest CT... and pretty much is all of the above

More like my heart was attuned to Flight of the Bumblebee. I get this not infrequently, but the last time I woke up with a resting heart rate in the 80s to 90s, it developed from there to full blown covid. So I get nervous now. I could not convince it to calm down again for some while before I just went back to bed. Which seemed to help. Got Allan packed off to school, made it home, and established our halloween cats before the bees began flying again. 

Maybe the cats scared me!

I also felt like passing out. This could easily have been - and I acknowledged this - the fact that I couldn't sleep the previous night.  So I retreated to the a dark room and "watched" an old season of Top Chef - my comfort sicko show, as it turns out. I have no exact clue what happened in the episodes I "watched" but there was food beyond my wildest fancies and some of it was beyond amazing and some of it was... "disappointing".  Somewhere in there, I cancelled my xolair appointent in a fit of good faith and not wanting to infect people. Accepting I would be at least a week late and hoping my urticaria wouldn't be too ornery for the exchange. 

I felt better having done that but my heart rate was still pretty elastic and it was still just a little too close to the trajectory from prior COVID. So Andrew and I ate lunch outside and mostly avoided each other. I spent most of the day preparing the downstairs room (which was in a bit of disrepair) for some occupancy. A little while later, Andrew cancelled his evening plans and I took a covid test before picking Allan up. So far, so negative. My heart, as it is wont to do, decided to mellow the fuck out and be normal by afternoon, which was heartening but somewhat confusing.

I still wore a mask for the evening. Allan was amused, instead of worried, which is good. She told me that I had her cold (the cold she's denied having for a few days now). But she was quite happy to have a daddy Allan night for dinnertime. I asked if she'd like to me to stick around and she instructed me to go upstairs. Or he could. One of us needed to be upstairs (it's her new thing - one parent should always be upstairs so any noises from the upstairs are clearly attributable)

So I went upstairs and Allan texted me on her messenger app. Which is our thang. This is a big way to connect for Allan (and, well, us). She sends me away and then we text. She sends videos or gifs or something very specific. There are several particular scripts and games attached to each of her choices. There are calls and responses. It's quite an elaborate syntactic virtual dance. Very engaging. Very involved. 

During this time, I also texted Andrew. I mentioned I was feeling better instead of worse (the degree to which things deteriorated the time I had covid was remarkably noteable) and he texted he had the sniffles too. We decided the odds were good that we either all had covid or all had a cold and it was probably from Allan since neither of us had actually really been anywhere in the last five days. I was told I was free to stop isolating/masking, considering this conclusion. But we both acknolwedged that I was not currently allowed downstairs, as Allan had made her will known about the appropriate state of parental distributions during dinnertime. 

I asked Allan if I had permission to participate in the bedtime and bathroom rituals. She said her equivalent of hells no and sent me another video. 

Later we did in fact skip "mommy time" (the first round where I read to her), but I was still summoned after her podcast. She managed to convince me to do some of the reading to her before I swapped night shifts with Andrew. 

I really like the book she's reading. It's about a boy named Bat. Bat's casually autistic, which is to say he is an autistic character and very much not a very special episode. He flaps his arms, and doesn't like mushy foods, but the story isn't about him being autistic as much as he just is an autistic character, and the people in his life largely accept him just as Bat. 

At any rate, I realized that I'd started a new bottle of hydroxyzine the night before (anti-histamine that makes you drowsy) and wondered if my weird morning had been a reaction to a new filler added to the pills. Swapped bottles, since I have a backlog and I will say whatever the case, no weird hangover the next morning... 

... But tired... Allan had a bad dream about a spider in her shoe at about 2:30 a.m. and of course getting back to sleep after that is not exactly manageable for any but the best of sleepers. Andrew was a champ and did the second round (after I tried to sneak out and Allan noticed ten minutes later). I made sure to come and get him before his alarms started going off. 

Anyways, fun adventures never cease. Needless to say, I did not make any appointments and in fact added to my list of appointments to make.... 

10/20: 

Having been alarmed to the possibility of COVID coming back into our lives, Andrew located a vaccine event happening on Saturday. Excitement! Anxiety!!!

 I've never had a bad reaction to the covid vax (yet), but I have had some hiviness after a few shots and vaccines have a way of hetting up an already histrionic immune system. 

The joy of MCAS is the sheer spontaneity of reactions. You can take a medicine, eat a food, or be in a location just fine for years and then BAM suddenly not ok, very much not so. So, vaccines in particular make me nervous. Allan also sometimes is totally cool about getting shots and sometimes it's nuclear threat level panic. I had the usual fretting about this and whether the environment itself would be sterilized in some allergen heavy way... Oh for fun! The pop up wasn't until the afternoon so I had plenty of time to simmer, while Allan lounged about her day and mostly kept to herself. 

I knew that Andrew was out biking and we'd go some time after he "got back". I somewhat predicted by the heavily "supplies while they last" language that going late to this event would likely be an endeavor in futility. Mostly I just wanted to get it over with. It seemed for a brief period of time like Andrew's plans would set him up to be back well in time to hit the pop up when it opened at two. I knew that we had never actually planned this, and that it was highly unlikely things would run so smoothly, but my brain grabbed on to this as a goal. It almost seemed feasible even. 

 It was not. Plans were modified a few times in little ways. He still got back just a bit after two, but then there was putting the bike away, taking a shower, having lunch (which I kept forgetting to make for him after insting I could). We ended up getting out of the house a bit after 3. Not bad, mind you. Just kind of an hour of unavoidable stewing on my part. 

We got there to find a line heading up some stairs into the mysterious unknown. The line did not move. The whole time we were there, it did not move. 

There was a sign at the door saying they were out of adult COVID vaccines but had first come first serve pediatric vaccines, maybe. Eventually standing in line got old and Andrew went up to check the situation. Apparently the line just kept going up a few more flights of stairs, and intot the horizon. People in front of us were still choosing to leave... eventually we also left. 

We tried to make appointments a variety of places to no avail. We dropped in first thing at Rite Aid on Sunday morning to be told that while "drop ins are welcome" they can't have COVID shots (just some tea and friendly pat on the back I guess?). Double anxiety days mixed with an exceptionally high energy Allan has left the weekend feeling especially ... exuberant?? Eventful?? Exhausting!

Quite the weekend energy going into the coming week

Some weeks are just not the weeks to get things done is all, but maybe the next week? 

***

Epilogue: 

I actually eventually scheduled my medical appointments some time the next week. And eventually, Ballard Natural Gas actually did come. It wasn't bad. It was the nice guy without perfume and he was pleasant enough to talk to in passing. I got my blood drawn by a miracle worker. 

In a fit of productivity I finally hit vaxx gold with Costco, but not until... some time after... well we sorted it out and appointments were made on Friday for Allan and Andrew, and some time later for me since my rescheduled xolair shot was already on Friday and they can't be taken in the same day. 

After learning to self-administer my xolair shot (still need to battle with the pharmacy but hopefully next shot I can do from the comfort of my house instead of driving to Bellevue, waiting in a cramped packed room of snotty maskless people, and driving home), I was a lil tired, but nonetheless determined to make this Costco thing work. 

We all packed into the car and headed out to Costco... on a Friday afternoon. 

Bright. Stuffy. And roiling with noises. I instantly felt this tightness in my sternum but kept breathing. We had an appointment. Even walk ins were getting in and out in fifteen. 

Of course they had my information but not Allan's. I had the confirmation emails but there we were. I had forgotten to sign Andrew up for a flu shot too. Things happened. They told us to wait while they reprocessed something. We waiting in a couple of chairs in a busy aisle. They took about 30 minutes. I had my hat and my sunglasses on, so it was less visible that I was crying but the agitated pacing probably wasn't anyone's cup of thrill. 

Nonetheless, it happened!!!

Boy did it. Hopefully Allan's subsequent febrile couch surfing is because this was her very first Moderna shot and not one of those too-late viruses already brewing before her shots!

Nonetheless. A lot got done and I'm ... done. 

Let's ignore the fact that the coming week is possibly even busier with another slew of appointments to make and appointments to keep

Today is the day for watching endless cat videos on youtube and checking the child's temperature every few hours. Honestly, it's sounds like about the best thing ever!

A few Days in the Life of... October 13thish Edition

I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing daily. Back like when I was on Google + (which I still miss, yes), I did this and I really liked the way it centered and crystalized my thoughts. And it's fun. I like words. I like arranging them and smearing them around and otherwise painting pictures with them. But what to do with the writings? Well, I'm not sure over all, but I figured today I'd compile a couple of days together and memorialize them in blog format. 

Wednesday 10/11:

Fashion is definitely not conventional in my world. And I have tended to go back and forth between phases of very functional (workout clothes and yoga pants with nursing bras or oversized mens button downs) and very pretty (sparkles! Spinny skirts! Plunging neck lines! So! Much! Color!)

Then... MCAS, oh MCAS. I have contact allergies to a ton of different things. And pressure hives. It knocked out my hair styling, body moisturizer, makeupping, jewelry wearing and creative socks donning. It was a rough landing, becoming super reactive to being pretty! 

  Fun makeup, jewelry, whimsical socks, and sparkly adornments were a big part of my sense of self and it was hard to let that go. For a while I just kind of went into a sartorial depression and got by wearing plain cotton pajamas and oversizedhoodies all the time. A men's shirt and an extra pair of inside out pajamas when going outside. Because having outside and inside clothes is something I still hold on to at least when it's pollen season. 

Nice hat, though. I did always have a nice hat. And I dressed up nice enough for the ballet when I had to. 

On the one hand, fudge the dominant paradigm of "feminine beauty"! I'm all for the idea that a woman can still be a woman while dressing in "unfeminine" and sort of slouchy things. I owe nobody the obligation to be pleasing to your eye. Comfort uber alles. 

On the other, I do take joy from pretty things, particularly on my body, Particularly if I can rub my hands up and down pretty textures or play with pretty jewelry or even make pretter things on my body make pretty noises as I walk. So if there's some way to both not be itchy and miserable and still feel pretty, oh so pretty...

... it's a bumpy stop and start kind of world. 

Over time, I've started to regain some sense of style, trying to work around being allergic to a ton of fabrics and metals AND having pressure hive reactions to anything remotely tight. 

It's a journey! I think at some point skirts made their way back into the repertoire. And a variety of different hoodies instead of a single slouchy one. And then... slowly but surely... 

I'll call these pivoral realizations: 

* if I am wearing thin pants underneath (which I typically am), then anything I wear over them doesn't touch the skin in a meaningful way. Skirts can be poly or rayon or whatever with far less consequence! Though definitely works best if the skirts are long!

* basic cotton t-shirts come in a lot of pretty colors and even prints, and the dyes don't seem to be a bother for me at this point. Cut the collar off and you have a nice off the shoulder entry that may or may not need to also be turned inside out. 

* I can actually wear some blends! It's a little more experimental, but so far there are some clothing brands with cotton/poly blends that have mostly cotton and which I can wear fine. This seems like a little thing, but it's actually a little world shifting. 

* Wrap skirts are not without their headaches, but they don't have elastic and therefore don't usually trigger hives.And silk sari wrap skirts are hypoallergenic as well as very pretty. 

* I have a pair of cotton/poly leggings that drive me a little nuts to wear, but are doable (results on this still pending) for days when I want to wear short skirts. 

* Rings bother me too much. Necklaces against the back of my neck bother me. I gave up finally on my garmin fit. But loose bracelets made of natural stones are cool. As are the little plastic glitter bracelets with glitter water inside. And I can wear necklaces over the back of my hoodie. 

* Pins are easy to add and subtract and pull on all the expressive flair!

* Silk scarves can go in the hair or tied up in a bow around the hoodie!

Anyways, it brings me joy to have some expression back in my wardrobe, even if my options are more limited than I'd like. The bracelets in particular are giving me some extra mileage (they make a wonderful noise when I jangle them and they're fun to play with too).

Thursday 10/12

A "busy" day out of the house. Meaning probably a total of two or three hours, but bear with me here, it was a lot. 

It was... a morning. 

First thing straight off, my phone went kerplunk, on the fritz, putting off the ritz,  etc etc. Alas.

 Not a complete digital armaggedon, but the screen doesn't work right or reliably anymore. Luckily it was still on waranty. Unluckily, nobody had a lightspeed drone to put a new phone immediately in my hands. 

Because having a broken phone is straight up debilitating. Especially on a day where one must drive. Into downtown Seattle... gulp!

The internal workings of the phone were still functioning, so I reassured myself that all was not lost. Maps, the most important feature since Wheels, continued to function with the same variable accuracy as always.

 I even made it to the location with extra time to spare. To spare on driving around in tears looking for parking and occasionally succumbing to epoxysms of existential despair, that is. Because parking in that area of Seattle is beyond the pits of hell. 

This day it all looked good. I had already located a parking garage on google maps earlier in my mental run through (I dress rehearse going anywhere in Seattle multiple times, check the drive times several additional times, and generally prepare for apocalypse a few times before heading out). And it was open. And parking was actually available and... it had recently swapped entirely to Pay by phone. 

Ok ordinarily not a terrible set up. Even convenient sometimes to somebody (I remain, at best, agnostic). But also seriously, no. I tried a few times to make it work, but my screen just wasn't functioning well enough. I loathe talking on the telephone but today I would happily have called a person and provided all kinds of necessary id numbers verbally. Ah well. Mid-screeching careen out of the parking garage, I saw a random employee and asked if there were alternative ways to pay. He said "sure" and told me to go to the next level and find the person at the stand. 

I found a new parking spot. 

There was no person. The person was a lie!

 And so, I wandered around haplessly for a beat and got back in the car with little strangled squirel noises brewing in my larynx. 

Found another parking space on the street, which immediately filled me with skepticism. Correctly, as it would turn out, since there were giant markings saying NO PARKING! WE TOW MOFO! on the side walk. Maybe they meant no parking on the sidewalk. I couldn't say. What I do know is that Seattle most definitely tows. I've lost a car that way before and don't want to try that again on a school day. 

So I made a strange little tragic baby bird sob and got back inthe car yet again. 

By some strange turn of luck relenting on me, there was in fact a spot with a pay-by-credit-car-at-the-kiosk set up. So I parked. I paid. Things were looking up. Still a few minutes to spare... 

Revitalized with a sense of victory, I started off in search of the medical building. I remembered to lock the car. The key wasn't there. This was not the first time. Actually earlier before I set off I couldn't find my actual keys and this key was already out backup key. Ran back to the car and started poring through the crevices only to realize the key was in fact in my purse after all.

 Started back out. 

Realized I'd forgotten my mask (like the literal one, that is).

 Came back. Found it. Locked the door. Left most of the carefully packed backpack I'd brought (with my own medical gown and water bottle because these things are important for me) in the car, realized this briefly and said "screw it" and kept walking. In a bit of a circle. I got a little lost. But eventually I somehow found the right floor and somehow found the actual doctor's office. 

They were surprisingly expedient, and pretty soon I was meeting my brand new doctor! And I mean brand new. The chick is barely hatched. But she had on a nice (very gen z olive drab) sweater with giant flowers and her medical lanyard had two lapel pins that I fancied: a sloth that says "I like to go slow" and an anatomically correct heart. 

She introduced herself to me "Hi I'm Doctor Doctor"

To which I - continuing to stare at her chest instead of making eye contact - blurted out in the sunniest voice chalk full of aggressive little UVA rays "I LIKE YOUR PINS!!!"

So that was a good start. 

She then asked me to tell her about myself. 

Panic. Crickets chirping only to pause to listen for pins falling from the sky. 

  I was unsure what she actually was looking for, but figured every other new medical professional always asks if I have kids, and it's probably useful to know I have a ton of allergies and mast cell issues. So I kept it short. Added I'd been an attorney too because everyone also wants to know what your job is. And also, professionals treat me with more respect when I admit I used to be one too. 

And then I told her my current symptomatic complaints. She said, and I quote, "huh, not ringing any alarms for me. I'm not sure." Told me to keep a journal of symptoms and that was about that and check back in a few months. So... about as useful as every other medical quest involving tons of parking stress and panic!

Oh except she put in an order for bloodwork. 

Bloodwork on a day like that?

I've been to the rodeo a few time. No way I was going to squeeze blood from the stones that my veins had become during the morning's torment. 

I know this because the last few times I've been slightly stressed out or cold or most anything, it's taken thirty to sixty minutes on near constant poking and slightly accusatory "we're usually great at this. Your veins just aren't cooperating!" With the inevitable round of "did you have anything to drink today" (Yes! Like more than you drink all week!) So we will handle that nonsense on a more peaceful day. 

Anyways, made it home, grabbed Allan's noise muffling headphones to block out the cat and the rest of the world and gradually recovered. Which was important because the outings were not over...

Only a few hours later, it was time!

Time for... 

Allan's last day of OT, sniff sniff. Sarah is taking a position in the schools, for reasons like "health insurance' and "paying off student loans" and "paid sick time"... crazy, I know. I was worried this would be devastating to Ms Allan, since OT is one of her favorite parts of the week. It may still be, but so far she's been accepting. As long as we find her a new OT, which might be a bit more of a feat. 

 They played in the swing and took lots of pictures. It was, overall, pretty amazing. It's been a huge boon having Sarah in our lives and I'm going to miss her. Although I will also enjoy that extra hour and a half of quiet-house time, truth be told.

The night wrapped up more placidly although I was still a mix of buzz and bother warmed over a bit. It was... a long day. 

On the bright side, my waranty claim came back to let me know that I'd get a new phone in about 8 or 9 days... really?? 

Thank goodness I gave Allan my old phone!

10/13 Friday

Started out a little spooky and ooky. Allan was off school so we did our weekend morning routine. Up at 6:30. A little dash of Choose Your Fighter. And then down for a movie. Today was Hocus Pocus. Sheer beautiful camp. Possibly the highlight of Friday. 

Which was good because it was a Friday needing some preemptive highlights. 

Friday had much more onerous horizons following... 

Horror upon horrors: the optometrist.

On the bright side, Allan's excited to finally get glasses. And they're going to be so friggin' cute! On the not bright side... actually it's really bright in there and that's part of the problem. 

When I first heard it was time to get Allan glasses, I knew two things: 1) that it would be a brightly lit, highly chemical environment with an indeterminate amount of waiting (allergies galore!), and 2) I was gonna be the parent to take her. Because that's how we divide things up. When these things are in the house or tele-therapy, easy peasy. I have a profound Allan tolerance and a little bit of a magic touch in that I am the only one who can keep track of the status of her labrynthine but mandatory routines.

 But these particular outings are the parts that exceed my capacity a bit more decidedly. 

I was good for the exam. It was smelly. And it was bright. And it's not always easy to help Allan follow the instructions they needed her to follow, but it was a bit of fun as well. 

The real "fun" began after Allan picked out her glasses and said "can we go home now?" 

Beacuse, actually, we couldn't. There was one technician in the store and only she was empowered to check people out. 

She was also with a customer, a middle aged lady with her mom helping her. And that customer had an order that was far more complicated than a peace sammie in the middle east. I later found out the client had had several strokes and was high needs. This from her mom "apologizing" (maybe calling me out for my obvious impatience, I couldn't say)  I don't fault her. But I can't control how it made me feel to be stuck in the environment with no understanding of when I would get to leave. And I'm sure I projected it a lot harder than I would have liked. Then again, I didn't have a flaming meltdown, so you're welcome everyone. that's a few more years off my life!

 We ended up waiting there for about fifty more minutes inside the store part. Overall about a ninety minute appointment. 

Which doesn't sound that bad when I read it. 

But it's hard to describe. For me, well, I really wanted to scream and throw things, and also run away. I wanted to get out of there because the lights everywhere were hurting my brain and body, my KN-95 mask was burning my cheeks, my breath was making my eyes irritated, and the noises of other customers talking was joining together in this aggressive tidal wave of garbled cacophany. Sometimes it feels like that scene in Vertigo, where the camera zooms and pulls away at the same time..? Sometimes I'm not sure if i'm going to faint or just start yelling. I haven't yet, mostly (I did actually faint on a field trip as a teen because the walls were too white and it smelled like paint, but usually not)

Allan was in a bit of a lovely little luftmenschy space this morning, so it was hard to get out the door and it ended in an ill prepared rush. We didn't bring any headphones or earplugs. We didn't have any fidgets other than my keys.  My phone wasn't really functional enough for stress browsing. And Allan was pretty ready to check out.

We finally ended up sitting in the middle of the floor, playing with my keys and making growling noises at each other. By that point I had my new shiny sunglasses on and my hat pulled as low over my face as it would go, which does actually help. This was soothing. The freedom to just be was helpful. I wish we'd done that sooner. 

I won't be fully recovered from this for about a day. Maybe longer. And then I'm sure the rashy skin will set in. It's worse now with the chronic illness/exhaustion - my spoons are all now tiny porceline tea spoons from a doll set, at this point - but this sort of experience has happened to me at all points in my life.

 I used to think I was just impatient. I was always embarrassed about my petulant ornery behavior. But seriously it's less patience than pain. It's the pain of the brightness and the noise and all that. And I can take pain when I know what to expect (when it's just your run of the mill pain I'm pretty well used to it), but when I don't know it's rough. And it adds up. And it wears on me to try to be polite and grown up about it. 

When we got home I immediately started making lunch while the cat yelled at me. Not exactly soothing, but it was a necessary next step. Grumpiness is just kind of inevitable but a few hours reading and running my hair across my lips did wonders. 

It's funny. I didn't even used to notice that I did this (the hair twirl and pull to lips), though my mom confirms I always have. I'm not eating it. I just like the feel. The motion and the texture. The dance.

 It wasn't until I was at Summer Camp at 13 when a girl pointed it out like it was a bad habit she was going to cure with the powers of Jesus (we were at Christian Camp). I was a little self conscious, but it hardly seemed like some great sin, so I declined the exorcism. I learned to do it less, especially in public. But I still do it unconsciously through the day. My friend at college says it's why she decided we should be friends - the cutest most approachable little stim. Allan's picked it up. With a vengeance. I take one tuft of hair, she will double fist it. It's sweet. She'll then go diving for my hair, which admittedly hurts a ton and makes me antsy because i want to get back to it myself. Also there are usually some big handfuls of hair torns out in the process. 

And I see it for what it is. 

 I remember when I had short hair. Which I loved, mostly. I found keeping my hands busy, but this is the "coming home" one. 

In the last few years, I'm more acutely aware of myself doing it in a more positive way. I let mind embrace the sensations in my skin and the intricate movements of dancing fingers. I feel there's a delicacy in it like taking up a cello. The little flicker of movements all combined to create a silent music that plays through my bones. And this gives me unquantifiable droves of pleasure and comfort. 

I can't do it as much as I'd like, because my fingers get tired and achy. So I measure it with other things like toothpicks and bouncy balls. But this is my homecoming and my indulgence. 

 When I'm in the outside world, I often can't. I usually wear my hair in a hat or tied under a scarf, because I don't need aerosolized allergens congregating in my hair. I am more likely to wear a mask anyways, because I don't really want covid anymore, sure, but also it helps with the smells. A lot.

 Also when i wash my hair it's not the same. That's not why I tend to wash my hair less exactly (dry scalp is enough), but it is a liability I'm aware of. 

And when I get back in the car after an appointment, it's an orgy of delight ripping my hair free and plunging my hands right in. That moment feels like that first moment of sip from an oasis. And it's big.

Which is to say, all in all, the day had some balance.  

Allan asked me to read to her after I made us lunch. This was also exhausting but recently she's been watching cat videos with Andrew at bedtime, and inevitably this bleeds into mommy time and inevitably I don't get to read to her at night anymore, because she'll start screaming NOOOOOO when I come in to do so. So, I take the moments I can. 

My mom came. They went out. I cleaned (mental health incarnate). Read a lil bit. Went on a walk. Watched some Loki... 

Ended light headed and achy but on an upswing anyways. 

Ready for the weekend and ready - oh crap not ready at all - for the downward slope towards Halloween!