Monday, September 29, 2014

Things and whatnot

Things I'm thinking about to distract myself from the grinding pain currently throbbing in my lady parts:



  • Insanely weird highback chairs. I mean, the kind of chair that only slightly off-their-rockers kind of people sit and read Poe in, the kind of chair you take very seriously because it's not meant for comfort...it's meant for pondering things. Deep things. I need that kind of chair. Preferably in a deep purple velvet, almost black. Well, actually, Hubby and I need a cool pair of them, so we can sit and ponder things together. Couches just don't have the same effect, ya know?


  • Fabric for my the comforter cover for baby's tiny comforter. I am trying so hard to come up with a selection before she actually arrives, and I seem to be stalling because I simply can't make up my mind. I want something soft, but not too hot. Something timeless, since I hate patterns that age out quickly. I want to choose a soft linen, since I love the way linen feels, but I can't make up my mind about where to get it, so I'm stalling. Ugh. I'm the worst. 

  • Disney is ridiculous. Seriously, people? Really? Also, more funny things here.

OK, that's all, people. The crotch pain is taking over. Time for some husband massage, painkillers, and sleep.

Monday, September 22, 2014

Still Explosion

Today is one of those days where I throw up my hands and surrender to the fact that things are just not going to be comfortable. Pelvic "instability", my ass. (My physical therapist is an idiot.) I'm calling this, "My bones are floating apart in a strained and crunching fashion." Oh, and I love people telling me that I'm just being a wussy, that pregnancy isn't always comfortable, but that I could totally have more kids without any issues. Well, sure, if I can be suspended in warm water for 9 months, in a coma, fed through a tube. That sounds nice. I can do that. Anything else....NO. I'm done. I hurt. There is NO SOLUTION for my pain. I'm gonna pass on doing this again. I like walking, thank you very much.

I did too much this weekend. (Seems to be the story lately.) And doing too much means by normal standards, I did less than nothing. Really. So, not only am I stir-crazy, bored and in pain, but I also did nothing all weekend, and still get to pay the price for it.

I used to care for a horse that some rich girl left behind when she went to college. He was a big, beautiful and passionate animal, and was confined to a 10x10 stall all day, every day, because he was too aggressive to be turned out with other horses. So I took to exercising him before work every day, turning him loose in a huge arena to scream and run and kick and smash whatever he wanted. It was magical to see his energy explode every day. I feel like that horse, only I have no way of exploding, except through writing. I have found that talking about it is just too "aggressive" for others right now. Talking about it feels worse. So I don't. I wait.

I think that my pelvic problems are based on a lot of things, but one thing stands out the most. A horse fell on me when I was 14. I was dragged, kicked and smashed by a 1000 lb animal, and I never went to the hospital. I never used ice on my bruises. I never made a peep. I was scared my parents would sell my horse, my most precious acquisition, and so I never told anyone about it until years later, well after any damage that I had endured could be healed properly. I can still remember lying in the rain, feeling the raindrops hit my eyes as I stared up, wondering when I would start breathing again. I know that I have a fracture in my leg. I know that I twisted my right hip badly. But what happened to my pelvis? What happened to the connective tissue that hold what should be the strongest connections in your entire body together? Who knows? I suppose I could eventually get my pelvis bolted together someday. Why does that sound worse than letting it be?

I'm feeling sorry for myself. Gonna let it go for now. It's a moment in a series of moments that make up my lifeline. Move forward. I am as strong as I choose to be.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Getting ready for birth and stuff.

I have been feeling the urge to get ready for birth lately. Not the average stuff, like buying baby clothes or cleaning the house, but more the weird stuff that only I need accomplished. Like having my husband build me a new fence for my chickens. Like trimming all of the trees before winter. Like staining the gate. Stuff only I think about because I know that doing these things when baby is a newborn gets exponentially more difficult, and I would just like them done. NOW.

So the house is being overhauled. I'm *supposed* to be taking it easy, as I have developed a minor hernia from being a supermom and doing "too much" and I'm supposed to sit down and crochet something, but that's too boring. So I've been out with Hubby, chopping down trees that got overgrown and digging fence post holes. I'm insane, I know.

I have been doing other thing as well, in my defense. I have a rough draft of my birth plan drawn up, but not yet typed. I have been scouring the area for cloth diapers, and scored 40 free diapers the other day, out of the blue. WOOT. I have been making blankets, wipes, a cars eat cover, and more with my nifty sewing machine and serger. I have been cleaning out old and broken toys from Leif's room so it wont be so cluttered. I have been organizing things, getting rid of junk and generally streamlining my house.

I've also been looking at postpartum health supplements, and stocking up on things I needed last time. Like pads. The kind that aren't all junky with chemicals and whatnot. Extra towels, because I swear, co-sleeper babies love to pee the bed at 2 am. Red raspberry leaf tea. Primrose and hemp oil. Arnica for pain relief. Witch hazel for the lady parts. And so on and so forth. The list is weird. It's my list, not anyone elses, because it works for my needs. I'm not ever going to spell it all out, because too many people have told me that I needed so many other things that I simply don't need or want in my life. (And some people have really shit ideas floating around their heads that they really feel the urge to talk about. NO, you should NOT use tampons after pushing out a baby. WTF, crazy person??) So I stick to what works for me.

I am feeling the urge to be highly private here soon, though. I admit that I want to birth this baby alone in the privacy of my closet, to be perfectly honest. (And this is NOT a roomy closet, people!) I don't know why, but I want to be left alone with my thoughts for this one. I want people to fuck off. I don't want hands, eyes, people. We'll see. I might change my mind, but for now, that's where I am.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

I am le tired.

I am so tired. My sleep is punctuated with a constant need to pee, thanks to my night drinking problem, my tiny bladder, my wee daughter thumping around all night, pelvic pain, muscle cramps, pregnancy dreams, etc.

Last night was especially difficult though, because of:
-a full moon
-a torrential rainstorm
-a puking 3 yr old
-a hubby who has taken up recreational sleep tossing.

I will admit to hating full moon nights. Beautiful, sure. For about 15 minutes. And then its like, "Turn off the big fucking light in the sky! I want to sleep!". I also hate rainstorms. I always spend all night wondering who is drowning outside, the rabbits, or the cats, or a hobo, maybe? Somebody is going to succumb to the water falling from the sky, and that bothers me. Then you add a kiddo who doesn't have a fever, doesn't have any other symptoms besides being a butt head, and then give him a puking problem. Ugh. At least he has the decency to warn me right before he hurls. So we spent all night cleaning up spatter, which gave us both a sleeping problem. When morning rolled around, we both just groaned at each other, drank strong coffee and smooshed our faces together before saying goodbye.

Today has been about laying low. I have no energy. I'm actually looking forward to nursing a baby all night, because that sounds easier than last night. Blurgh.

Also, I feel like this:
Too bad my kiddo doesn't have adorable rolls like this, though. He's just covered in bony elbows and knees.

Friday, September 5, 2014

Gearing up for mass murder

I don't like unannounced visitors. I always loved the Victorian-era habit of sending calling cards ahead of visiting someone. That way they knew when and why and who was coming, and could send back a lovely little card that said, "Sorry, I'll be away that day, call again another day!" while really just staying home eating bon-bons and playing with their pugs. (I have a vivid imagination, on top of being anti-social.)

So when random people come onto my porch and ring my doorbell, creating a cascading chaos effect due to protective dogs, I get a little pissed off. OK, more than pissed off. I get enraged. BUT only because assholes always choose nap time to come over. Every single damn time.

I live next door to my brother, and we share a large driveway. He owns a construction business, and has a tiny home parked in said driveway, which is currently under construction. It's hard to miss this thing, and it's very cute, and people love it, and people wanna know more. So they come to my house. And they knock/ring the doorbell, and then I get super grumpy..... But seriously, I'm not trying to be a pain. It's not my tiny home. It's not my company. I have no idea what the plans are like, what it costs, why he chose that paint color, who is buying it, etc. THIS IS A PRIVATE RESIDENCE! Please take his number and go away! But no. People don't like that. They want immediate results. And so I am going to have to resort to murdering people when I have this baby, because I will be sleepless, leaking, grumpy, un-showered and so hangry. I just know it.

My solution is to post a sign on my walkway that says, "Unannounced visitors who touch my porch, wake my babies/dogs/me and make me come to the door have very slim chances for survival." (Well, actually, it originally was going to say, "Come near my house and I CUT YOU." but Hubby said that sounded really bad, and then we would never have anyone over anymore, and that wasn't nice.) So now I need to make that sign, because I really can't keep trying to smile at people who aren't catching on to the steam pouring from my nostrils. Someone's gonna get killed, and I just don't have time to deal with a body.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

6 Ways to Prevent Preterm Labor (By someone who is failing at all of these, badly.)

1. Don't have sex.

Well, shit. I'm doing badly already. Apparently, sex isn't good for people trying to keep baby inside because semen has all sorts of glowy chemical properties that "ripen" your cervix, which is great for those 41w+3d people, but for us 32w+4d people, not so good. So I need to stop being a preggo hottie and go all nunnish on my poor Hubby. Ugh.

2. Stop lifting things.

Crapola. I have a 3 yr old. A dog that wont jump in the back of the XTerra. Feed bags that aren't going to pour themselves in the bins. Water buckets that need hauling. I am alive, so yes, I am going to lift things. I love it when doctors/midwives are like, "Don't lift anything over 25 lbs!" I can't think of anything under 25 lbs around here. Maybe a burrito? One chicken? A pillow?

3. Rest 30 minutes between activities. 

Do you know how long of a day I'm gonna need if I follow this rule?? I'm gonna need a 72 hr day. Seriously! That's impossible. I'm not even going to bother with this one. Sheesh.

4. Empty your bladder often.

Well, I get contractions from going upstairs to go to the bathroom, so by that last rule, I would have to ooze upstairs, pee, lie down on the bathroom floor for 30 minutes to recuperate, ooze back downstairs, and resume whatever I was doing......well, crap, now I have to pee again. Great. Start all over.

5. Drink LOTS of water. 

WHAT??? OK, FINE. I'LL JUST SPEND THE NEXT 8 WEEKS STUCK ON THE TOILET.

6. Others- Dont: smoke, eat too much, eat too little, gain too much weight, gain too little weight, do drugs (especially cocaine??), get infections, have too many babies in your oven, have a crooked vagina, have a short cervix, have surgery, ride horses/4 wheelers/roller coasters, have placenta previa, be younger than 17 or older than 35, be unaware of being pregnant at all, be of a low socioeconomic status, develop anemia, laugh too hard, be constipated or have stress, among others.

Right. I'll get right on ALL that. Thanks for nothin, interwebz.

So, to sum all this weirdness up: I am going to sit here, laugh at suggestions given to me by both the medical professional and non-medical professional worlds, and try my darndest to keep baby growing where she is. Some days I might be winning. Some days, not so much. Like yesterday: had too much fun, paid the price with 4 hrs of erratic contractions. Required several hours of 30 Rock and SO MUCH water to calm me back down. But today, I plan on doing noting but eating peanut butter and blogging. So I'm winning today, people. I'm winning today.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

It's ok.

Sometimes you feel a bit lost in this enormous Universe. And then sometimes the Universe whispers, "Yeah, I see you. Here, have a little moment that reminds you that you are just as important as all of the other kajillion little moving parts that make up our entirety. It's ok, you're doing great. Enjoy that moment, it's on me."  And so you do, and you realize that a little trust, a little release does a lot. I'm enjoying my moment.

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Ok, let's do this!

The header of this post would be great for a person preparing for a weight loss journey, or prepping for a marathon, or getting ready for a big interview for the job of your dreams. For me, its a bit less fun, but no less in need of enthusiasm. Tomorrow is 30 weeks pregnant for me, and today I found out that my pelvic condition can improve somewhat with the help of chiropractic or acupuncture care, but my insurance covers neither of these, and I am simply not in a financial state to be able to afford them. So, instead of getting down or depressed about this, I am choosing to move forward with what I know I need to do: be gentle with myself.

My condition is excessive loosening of the connective tissue in the pelvis. For those of you who were passing notes in Human Anatomy during high school and don't know where your own crotch is, here's a diagram:

See that symphysis pubis right there? That's a nice tough fibrocartilaginous disk, which is supposed to stay put through a normal pregnancy, with some give for labor and pressure of baby. Mine, on the other hand, is choosing to part ways and be moody, and is creating a nice big gap. A gap that makes the Sacroilliac joint (in the back, on either side of the sacrum) say, "WTF, ya'll?? You do realize you are making this difficult for us to hold our shit together, right?" Because obviously all of my pelvic joints are in committed relationships....

Anyways, this "pelvic instability" makes things interesting. And I don't mean interesting like I play 6 rounds of tennis and I'm a sore the next day. I mean I can't walk down the stairs in my own house without wanting to cry about halfway down. I can't sit without my knees glued together, because the pain catches up with me in about 10 seconds: a lightening bolt of sharp pain directly to the crotch. 

Sitting cross-legged is completely impossible. Driving is a pain (literally), because you don't realize that your feet are uneven when you are pressing the gas pedal until you try to get out of the car, and can't move for 5 minutes, waiting for the pain to subside. Putting on pants or socks becomes a nightmare. My husband just puts my socks on for me now. I have given up shaving my legs like a normal person, it now involves jackknifing my body in the shower so that my legs are both evenly propped up on the wall of the shower and I can very quickly skim them and get back up before I get stuck there forever. All of these little things have become part of my daily life. Getting out of bed is different. Sitting down is different. Standing too long is different. 

So in the light of my physical therapist telling me that I need to have a baby to feel better, I am choosing to try to find the good in all of this. I have 10 weeks to go. I want to have a healthy baby. I want to NOT kill/maim/irritate to death all the people around me with my problems. I am unable to do certain activities, but I can find other ones that are fun, too. Hiking is out, but crocheting is in. Yes, I will have cabin fever in the fall, my favorite season. But maybe I can find nice overlooks to visit within driving distance and enjoy the outdoors that way. I recently made a great winter hat for my son, maybe I can make some for my whole family. I'm not into TV too much, but reading is always good. I need to use my new serger to make more cloth diapers, so that will be good. (Although I have found that pressing the pedal has to be balanced with time standing to reduce the pain.) So yeah! Let's do this! Lets get through the next 10 weeks! I will try to write more, because I know that it will help my frustration. I can do this.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Protect your consciousness.


This week brought the news that Robin Williams has left this plane of existence, apparently by his own hand. While I was terribly sad at the loss, I was also hurt. Not mad at him for deciding that suicide is the way to end his pain, but sad because I felt such a connection with him through the movie What Dreams May Come, and because of that, I felt pain because of my belief about suicide.

I could spend days explaining the ins and outs of the book, What Dreams May Come, and why it impacts my beliefs, but I feel that if you want to know, you can read it for yourself. The movie is beautiful, but the book is perfect. The quote from it that catches in my throat is this:

“…They think of suicide as a quick route to oblivion, an escape. Far from it. It merely alters a person from one form to another. Nothing can destroy the spirit. Suicide only precipitates a darker continuation of the same conditions from which escape was sought. A condition under circumstances so much more painful.” 

While I do know that some people would consider this highly offensive, because it does seem to place blame on someone for killing themselves, I think simply ache for that person. I don't believe we are just gone, I don't believe in the immediate end of our existence. Matter cannot be destroyed, so why should our consciousness just go "poof!"? 

At the same time, know this: I am in NO way trying to convince others. I am simply saying that I mourn the loss of Robin William's existence on this plane, and hope that in the next, he finds more peace. He was brilliant in the sea of faces, and I know that sometimes brilliance can come with great weight. I don't blame him for trying to find relief. I just wish that relief on him, somewhere in time and space. 

I struggle with my own depressions, and I have been at depths that have felt impossible. I have always felt, though, that my consciousness is bigger than my emotions, something precious that is always, always worth protecting and nourishing, no matter what. 

Friday, July 25, 2014

The whole bloody second trimester.

Hey. Its been the whole second trimester. I took advantage of more energy, less gagging, less miserable headcolds, etc, and got outside. I moved into a new house. I planted some flowers. I absorbed the sunshine. I loved on myself. And here I am on the threshold of the third trimester, and I dont want to leave. I cant believe its about to be August. I cant believe my baby is about to turn 3 in a month. I cant believe that fall is coming, and I'm going to have another baby, and all that. Its a whole lot of wishing to slow down the time. But such is life. I could try to list all of the wonderful things that have come with this summer, but instead, I'm just going to finish out this sunshine. I'm going to love this time. I'm going to be that glowing pregnant mama for a little while longer. And then WINTER IS COMING. Lol.

xoxox

Friday, May 9, 2014

15 weeks

Well, its been a while, again. Meh. When you have my life, you seriously start to care very little about being a blogger super mom with perfect hair, and start to hope you can find clean pants on a daily basis. And mostly you don't, and have to wear yoga pants (which you never actually do yoga in) until you clean some pants, because you stupidly packed up all the other warm clothes you had for spring, and then it started snowing again, just for the hell of it. (Just a note: I love awesome run-on sentences. They rock.)

So here I am, in (seriously comfortable) yoga pants, stalling on laundry because damn it, kids go through so many pairs of clothes. And its PJ Day at school tomorrow, and Ella wants ALL of her PJ's cleaned because she needs choices. Well, tough. You get one pair cleaned today, because I am also washing my pants today. 

My son is also generating enough clothing to outfit a small country in underwear, because he is potty training, and he keeps saying, "In minute, mama!" when I ask him to go. He is perfectly capable of going by himself, but he thinks he has more important battles with his Lego guys, and so he stalls too long, and then comes to tell me he was wet his Ironman/Thor/Superman/Green Lantern/Spiderman/Batman underwear, and needs new ones. When he does actually get around to breaking up his epic battles and going to the bathroom, he usually falls off the stool and screams that he needs me to come pick him up and set him right again. Reminds me of that episode in The Office when Michael grills his foot in a George Foreman grill and falls off the toilet. I laugh so much around here. 

I have hit 15 weeks pregnant, which means the baby is the size of a Hass Avocado, only not as green. I have also gained a total of -2 lb. Yep. I've lost weight. I think it might be that I cant seem to consume dinner any more. Not my fault. It's just that dinner, unless consisting of incredibly fatty garlic mashed potatoes (a no-no in our house) is completely unappetizing. So I make them anyways. I also have taken to making enormous smoothies with handfuls of fruit, whole fat plain yogurt, and almond milk. (And also my prenatals dumped in, because I can't swallow pills at all right now.) It's the first time in my life when I have actively been trying to gain weight, and its a weird feeling. I eat all day long, and still feel like I have an empty pit in my stomach. Its a little defeating, actually. I wish I could feel full once in a while, preferably at 2 am when I really don't want to go down to the frigid kitchen and make a snack. 

In other developments, I now have a bladder the size of a thimble. It doesn't discriminate, it has to go all the damn time, day or night. I am also extremely thirsty and have a few Nalgenes floating around me at all times, which makes the bathroom the most visited place in my home. I really wish I had a more comfortable toilet. Why don't they design them with comfort in mind???

I am also the proud mama to 17 baby chicks that are living in my dining room. They need to be inside for a month or so, and they are adorable, poop a lot, and are trying to eat each other's toes off. Lots of indignant peeping going on all the damn time. I love them. I did lose 3 in the first 24 hrs, but that's a good loss rate, honestly. Two died in transit, and one just really wasn't doing well when they arrived, despite my best efforts.The rest look amazing. We have a few named: Peckles, Cocoa Puff, the Gabor sisters, and Sunshine. The rest are probably going to acquire names eventually, since my hubby (deep down) really loves chickens and will probably end up coddling them half to death. 

Anyways, life is chasing me down, telling me I have things to do. See ya!

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Milk Busy

It has been an interesting week. All I can really say is that allergies are kicking my ass, hubby and I have decided to go sugar free to help our health, kids are exhausting, and baby bunnies are a lot of work. Here are a few pics to show you what's up:




If I was supposed to call you, email you or do something I completely forgot about, this is why. I am not myself right now. I am very, very tired.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

Kumquat

Baby is 10 weeks today and the size of a kumquat. Between week 9 and 10, I managed to get a really bad head cold, so I have been a wreck, snot flowing freely. Allergies didn't go away either, so now the cold is over, but the snot continues, but I am feeling better. Meh. Other than a gross nose, I don't feel too bad, honestly. I have some food aversions, but not the kind I had last pregnancy. I can still eat peppers. I am craving tart fruits, and love dried mango right now. I'm struggling to get my prenatals down, and the hemp oil I take, thanks to their huge size, but I'm still managing.

Ella has been gone this week on spring break, which has left Leif feeling lonely. We have also been dealing with rain and snow, so we have been trapped in our cabin, which is tough for a little man.

I had another ultrasound this week, and got to see baby moving arms and legs, which was so fantastic. I may not feel particularly pregnant (more of a allergy snot ball) but it felt good to see that baby is doing great. We also did the whole blood work, urine testing, poking and prodding, etc. I am not cut out for being in a hospital. Leif isn't either, although he did get to help the phlebotomist draw Mama's blood, and he loved that. Maybe I'm crazy to bring my kiddo to my appointments, but he's my pal. I love to bring him.

I did get some funny look from the midwife when I told her that I didn't need HIV/STD testing, and I was turning down the PAP. I don't believe in testing that is pointless and will just charge my insurance and drive up the cost of health care. She was shocked, though. I don't think many people ask what tests will be administered, much less choose which ones they feel the need for. Meh. I love messing with health care personnel.

In Leif news, he is a little boy now. He is not a baby, and while it makes me a little sad, I am also glad he has become so independent. He has been going pee in the potty by himself, washing his own hands and now takes off his own pants and shoes and socks. Still working on the shirt! He is very opinionated, and not scared of telling random strangers what he thinks, in full and complex sentences. There isn't much he doesn't say anymore. He uses big words like delicious and handsome to describe things. He is working on "1000 Books before Kindergarten"and has passed level one, or 100 books. He is such a fantastic little guy to spend all of my time with, I adore him!

In other news, I ordered my chickens today! I ordered 2 Buff Orpingtons, 4 Rhode Island Reds, 1 Auracana, 2 Barred Rocks, and (my fav) 4 Buff Crested Polish and 2 Golden Crested Polish. I adore Crested Polish chickens, they are so funny and beautiful. They will arrive April 29, so I have a bit of time, but I am so excited! Here is a pic of a buff Crested. Look at that fluff!!! AHHHH!



Thursday, March 27, 2014

9 weeks


Because I am inundated with the side effects of growing a human, I have nothing interesting to tell you all, except my symptoms, which I will look back on someday and say, "Oh, it wasn't all that bad!" I am telling you now, future Me: It's pretty fucking bad.

Just to lay it out, super TMI style:
-Nausea, but not just the morning kind. All the damn time kind.
-Extreme hunger. But only for strange, unattainable foods, stuff I never keep in the house.
-Round ligament pain. What's new?
-Constipation. Yay me.
-Diarrhea. My body can't make up its mind.
-Pregnancy-induced allergies. My eyes, ears, nose, throat are all itching constantly, and I have the eternal drip.
-Exhaustion. Need I say more?
-Breathlessness. Seriously, the stairs are killing me, yo.
-Inability to go back to sleep. What a bitch.

That's me. Can't eat sunny-side up eggs anymore, can't get comfortable, can't take most allergy meds.
Such is the life of pregnant me. Can't wait for the second trimester.

Also, this is nice:
Words
Dana Gioia
The world does not need words. It articulates itself
in sunlight, leaves, and shadows. The stones on the path
are no less real for lying uncatalogued and uncounted.
The fluent leaves speak only the dialect of pure being.
The kiss is still fully itself though no words were spoken.

And one word transforms it into something less or other—
illicit, chaste, perfunctory, conjugal, covert.
Even calling it a kiss betrays the fluster of hands
glancing the skin or gripping a shoulder, the slow
arching of neck or knee, the silent touching of tongues.

Yet the stones remain less real to those who cannot
name them, or read the mute syllables graven in silica.
To see a red stone is less than seeing it as jasper—
metamorphic quartz, cousin to the flint the Kiowa
carved as arrowheads. To name is to know and remember.

The sunlight needs no praise piercing the rainclouds,
painting the rocks and leaves with light, then dissolving
each lucent droplet back into the clouds that engendered it.
The daylight needs no praise, and so we praise it always—
greater than ourselves and all the airy words we summon.

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Heyo, Nut.

A baby-sized southern pecan.
Today is 8 weeks. I don.t know how I feel. Tired. Not especially pregnant, just worn out. I hope all is well under the layers of skin and muscle and bone. I hope there is a strong little heartbeat that is getting more powerful every day. But you never know, right? You never know how long we are here on this plane of existence. We'll see. No sense in stressing. Just nap. Just read Dune and dream of other things. Take long walks and look out at the duck on the lake. Kiss my boy too much.

I have been having dreams that are hard to see and harder to escape. The kind that will rerun the bad bits, just to make you relive them a little longer. Snakes and deep water and things I can't change. I am trying to rewrite them, but that brings sleeplessness, which is another kind of dream world. I'll try harder.

I would write more, but I am behind. Behind on so many little things. The kind of things that if you ignore them, they will make it to tomorrow, but then tomorrow is harder. Chip away at it, Kate. Get that shit over with. It's holding you back.

More whenever.