Meandering thoughts

Thursday already...sweet! Haven't gotten nearly enough done this week, so I'm looking forward to the weekend. Have to move the plants in and toss the bikes, and decorate for Christmas this weekend. Hope we can splurge on a box of candy canes!

The manic highs have definitely left the building for a piece, but I'm not scraping the bottom of the well either, which is nice. It's odd though, how easy it is to not take proper care of yourself. I've never been an exerciser (yet......OPTIMISM!), so it's easy to understand when that falls to the wayside; but stuff like eating habits, I never get a clue until the blinding headaches have started again or the scale starts to creep north. I'm 38 frickin' years old! (she said, as though age had anything to do with it) Should have a handle on stuff like this by now...anyway, that thought was precipitated by the fact that I curled up for a little nap after work yesterday, and woke up 4 hours later. Clearly the body needed something the brain wasn't checking in on...and when I think about how naps like that won't be nearly as accessible (as the mothers that read this blog go, "naps? what's a nap?") when there are small people afoot, it punctuates how very important it is to keep a handle on your own health. I think I need to stop giving blood for a while; I'm pretty sure I can link some of my issues this week to the fact that I'm down a pint.

Speaking of 38, it's getting a little aggravating to still be getting carded to buy Husby's smokes. Wanted to climb up on the counter and grab the collar of the 20-year-old in question, while screaming "1969!!!", but figured that'd be a bit much...

Yarn Harlot's funny today :) I do hope she gets enough reassurance in the Comments section, that there's plenty of us out there who are just as tweaked as she is...

The problem with an ovulation clock that's outta whack is you still keep time as though it was normal. So you expect a little PMS around X, and then when it actually occurs around Y, you realize you have no excuse for acting like a raving lunatic during X...luckily the spouse already knows I'm a few blueberries shy of a muffin basket.

I need to knit myself some headbands. This glorious mop o' mine is heading toward one length again, so it's full and thick and completely unflattering with my round face; but I've been wearing it down more to keep my ears warm...

Fig's been adorable, quite clingy. She's still a persnickety cat...if you pet her certain ways, you're liable to get scratched for your trouble. But she's a little more talkative, and just so pretty...her coat is lush. I'm learning to give her more affection; I'm the disciplinarian with her, so she's a bit wary sometimes, but the dynamic is shifting a bit with Jordan's absence. Love that picture I took of her on the magazine, so I put it over to the right. Enjoy!

False hope

Just thinking out loud here.....probably idiotic of me to do so, what with identity theft so rampant...I like to think my common last name keeps the threat at a minimum, but that's likely naive...

To have things be as bad as they are for us right now financially, and still be manageable, provides a false sense of security. Phone and Internet got turned off Monday, and full cable is probably set to go within a couple of days. But if we keep up the minutes on my cell phone somehow, we won't be cut off from the world entirely. The library's right down the street from our house for Internet, and of course, I have access to it all day at work. Having dead TVs for a while will certainly hurt Husby more than me, because he's home all day. Between the knitting and reading I do in the evenings, the TV is little more than a distraction anyway, with the possible exception of my Tuesday night viewing, which can certainly be caught up on with Internet and other media once we have them back. Hell, if the writer's strike doesn't get resolved soon, there won't be much more of the regular TV season anyway. I'm being overly optimistic about this though; I'm sure I'll be singing a different tune when I'm missing new Kyle XYs in '08...

Our bank account's in very bad shape, but with the holiday next month and our planned trip to SC (which there's really no way out of; I mean, we're talking family tradition here), I'm not willing to deal with the bank account until my mid-January check probably, which means quite a bit of dealing in cash, but at least the important bills will get paid. Actually, maybe not so much dealing in cash...there's plenty of vehicles out there for situations like this. Places like ACE Cash Express...it looks like I could cash my payroll check there, get my rent in money order form, and stick the rest on a prepaid Visa card for less cash work and totally manageable fees. Which really makes me wonder how many folks out there live by the seat of their pants like that, but I certainly can't complain, because it could be getting us out of a serious bind. Sonofagun. And there you go, false sense of security...what I mean is that I have that "everything's going to be alright" feeling, when I don't feel I deserve it, especially when our account's so far in the hole, we need a backhoe and a mountain climbing course to get ourselves out of it. Waxing metaphoric again...

Nothin' to do but soldier on...I'm halfway through the 2nd sock, trying to do 14 rows a night, and brainstorming for fiber-induced Christmas present ideas...but I'm pretty realistic where that's concerned. Everybody on our so-called Christmas list may end up getting books, as we still have that monster box in the trunk of our car, just waiting to be traded in at Chamblin's. Thank goodness...I mean, me wanting to be all idealistic about less consumption during the holidays is one thing, but Husby's mom loves having stuff under the tree.

Fresh start.....again

Hard to think of the end of November as being a place for a fresh start...fresh starts are for spring or the beginnings of months...well, maybe this one has a better chance of holding because it's at an unusual time.

Thanksgiving was a bit mopey, but I guess that's understandable. I get that I needed to come down a bit from my month of good feelings; just wish the fates didn't have to kill off one of my cats in the process. We kept it rather simple; the food was delicious, but it felt mediocre. The rest of the weekend sped by rather disconcertingly, but parts of it were good so I'm not as pissed as I'd normally be when that happens. Friday I spent some time with Mom and Lil Sis; we went to the St. Johns Town Center and just window shopped. It was naturally jammed with Black Friday folks, but I must've been in a good place because it didn't depress me that I couldn't buy anything, and the crowds didn't make me want to smack anyone...well, except for this one mother who was admonishing her kid loudly in public. I realize I'll sing a different tune when I have my own urchins, but when I see stuff like that, I have to hold back from going over to the woman and asking her if it's ever dawned on her that if she disciplined her kid properly at home, maybe he wouldn't feel the need to act out in public. Sometimes it is as simple as teaching them right from wrong. Of course, I say that while thinking that one of the reasons that Cyril and I were so well behaved in public as kids, was plain fear of pissing off Dad. I don't want to rule with an iron hand when the time comes though; I have to believe there's a happy medium. Maybe it's time to do some reading on the subject.

Saturday was mope around day, which left me feeling quite vile, but I rallied Sunday with a trip to the Westside to see the brick we had placed in the grotto behind the Catholic church in memory of Dad, and breakfast at Mom's. Got home mid-afternoon, puttered a bit, made cookies, and relaxed the rest of the day, which was nice. Poor Husby was working through the latest migraine, so I kept noise to a minimum, got up to the calf decreases on the 2nd sock, and read a bit. Really helped make Monday morning easier somehow, though would've helped even more if I'd gotten off my butt and fixed myself lunch for the next day, but I made do this morning. Baby steps.

This week is rearranging the apartment to put up the tree and laying out the finances for the end of the year. We're so far in the hole, I took myself off direct deposit so that we can actually pay bills. But Christmas bonus or not, there's a good chance we plain can't afford the holidays this year, so we're warning people now. It's about time we change the way the holiday goes anyway; I'm so beyond the idea of blowing money on things people don't need. I'd so rather make a donation in someone's name than get them something they won't use. This financial lousiness couldn't have happened at a better time.

I am thankful...

It's been a suck year, but I am thankful...

For Les, Mom, Cyril, Meara, not in any order...

For the little black cat that's chewing on the plastic bag right next to me...

For the time I had with Dad...

For the time I had with Jordan...

For my friends in Jax and online, past and present...

For books and knitting, Paxil and Lithium, and all the other things that keep me sane...

For cold weather and the breeze on my face...

A roof over our heads and food on the table...

Gods bless, everyone!

Rage

I'm so angry and guilty and sad...I can't think of him as being in a better place. It's my/our fault. We knew he wasn't right, but we just didn't have the money to give him what he needed. If we'd asked about more comprehensive nutrition therapy back in April when he first started having the health problems, could we have reversed things? He may have been too far gone even then; there just aren't enough decent tests to be done in the non-private practice vet offices, and the private offices cost a fortune. The Banfield folks at PetSmart, while ok vets, I'm sure, thought he was on death's door in April, and the only advice they gave me on his diet was let him eat whatever he wants, because he was too thin as he was. He held out for 7 more months, but we've definitely learned that cat does not live on chicken breast and cow's milk alone, and that when they start getting finicky about food, it's not a problem, it's a PROBLEM, one that requires immediate attention. I get it now. We thought he was rallying, but he was probably feeling like shit for 7 solid months, otherwise he would've eaten more, eaten actual cat food, looked better, gained more weight. We were fooling ourselves, and that damn sure will never happen again. He was such a beautiful cat. I'm finding myself weeping openly at work over this. I'm so angry.

Figaro's getting insured, and we're putting her on a lower-calorie diet. She gets plenty of exercise tear-assing around the house, but the silo's got to go, cuz she's a little furry black piglet. And we're so in the hole over this, that I've no idea where rent's coming from in 2 weeks, and there's an excellent chance they'll be holding Jordan's ashes hostage until we can pay for them. Merry fucking Thanksgiving.

Sorry...not in the greatest place right now.

My dad has someone to play with now.

The skin over my Dad grief has been pricked by a cat claw.

Apparently I wax metaphoric in times of deep sadness.

We euthanized Jordan, my 12-year-old, part-Siamese cat last night. It was a painfully pragmatic decision. A combination of diabetic neuropathy and renal failure made his legs give out completely yesterday; when he walked, it looked like he'd gotten into the liquor cabinet. We took him to the kitty ER. There were plenty of contributing factors leading up to this that we're trying not to dwell on right now, not the least of which is that he and Figaro, our 4-year-old shorthair, never truly meshed. And the truth was that prolonging his life would have been very costly, painful for him, and ultimately futile.....but I'm having trouble thinking that way right now. It's still too fresh, and feels too much like a financial decision. The very good listener of a vet was explaining to us that we were probably looking at a form of intensive care for him this week to get him to rally, and then more medication therapy, including insulin, for the rest of his life, and when I found my voice, all I could say was "what you're explaining, we can't afford." That hurts like hell, and we're both blaming ourselves; but I know in a day or two I'll be more amenable to the fact that he's not hurting anymore.

He was my first pet literally; I didn't grow up with animals. I got him from a colleague when I was living in Fort Myers. Found Les 2 months later. He was a very easygoing cat, a bit of a bulimic, but not a complainer. Very pretty markings...it dawned on me last night that his back was really similar to my White Buffalo Seal Heather Brown. Dark brown tail and ears; white belly, chest, and feet; and a patch of coffee ice cream on his right shoulder.

Within a month of my acquiring him, I brought him home to Jax to meet the folks. Dad played with him on the floor with a piece of string, and commented on how aloof he was. I remember Dad getting a kick out of him, how low-maintenance and friendly he appeared. So that memory has attached to Dad, Neil, and Poppy now, working on cars in the garage. Jordan is hanging out on the car hood with them.

Good stuff

In no particular order...

Mood above average again.
Lots of energy.
Cold expected later today and tonight.
Payday tomorrow.
Thanksgiving next week.
Short work week next week for Thanksgiving.
Meara's home next weekend.
New license plate's on its way.
Knitting in the park on Saturday.
Native Sun Open House tonight.
Happy.
Nice.

ebb and flow

I wonder if normal people wake up in the morning and recognize whether or not they're ok. Cuz for those of us who require medication to determine this, we develop an internal gauge...it's hard to explain, especially since if you're a depressive, you're so used to it, if you notice it's a down day, you basically trudge on, because you know that no amount of positive thinking and sunshine is going to help it, so why try? May sound defeatist, but it's realism...when the energy expended to get out of bed is enough to get you frustrated, why pour more into a warm fuzzy that hasn't a chance of breaking through what the medication can't...

So I took yesterday's dip in mood in stride. It pissed me off, but I was too busy dealing with the symptoms to really vent, and I wanted to know why. Why after nearly a month of feeling really damn good, do I suddenly take a dip? I know everyday can't be sunshine and roses, but nothing had changed with my medication, no PMSing, no serious changes in my diet, I thought; so why was I suddenly crawling out of my skin, hating my reflection in the mirror, and working with the concentration level of a Mexican jumping bean...I'm still not certain. I think it was diet and PCOS messing with me. That wheat bread I'm making may be better for me than the white, but when you increase your consumption as a result and already have candida issues, you're asking for trouble. And I had one of those "ding, fries are done!" moments when I remembered that somewhere in my bookcase is a little reference book dedicated solely to the topic of PCOS. I found it at Chamblin's and thought, what a great resource, and promptly shelved it. I can't be the only one who does stuff like that. Anyway, it's time to dig it out. I have a feeling it's as simple as what I'm stuffing my face with :(

Today appears to be better. I'm wearing comfort clothes just to be safe, cuz I REALLY hated what I was wearing yesterday and the only thing wrong with the outfit was that the top's starting to show its age. I think it's also cuz in the back of my head, I'm trying to look more professional on the off chance I run into anyone from HR (while I'm in the running for this position), but I need to chill...there's an excellent chance I'm not even qualified enough for what they want in the position, so no point in making myself nutty over potential fashion issues...yeah, ok, the jumping bean part of yesterday has stuck around a bit...though those who know me will say I'm always like this :)

Just keep swimming.....

Headline for a website: Fresh Meat Home Delivery

All I could think was, it's either a meat market that ships, or a hooker that makes house calls.

It's gonna be one of those days.

Woke up a little ornery, had stress dreams after my 4 a.m. P break, but I'm confident I can shake it off. Still operating on the up side of manic though, which is nice. Weekend was pleasant...caught up on sleep, did some knitting (finished a sock!), relaxing, and organizing. Spent Sunday cooking: my loaf of wheat bread for the week (gonna try and make that a weekly ritual), a mediocre beef stew, and some rather disappointing oatmeal butterscotch cookies (won't use that margarine as the oil base again). Still, I had a blast and every error is a learning experience. Made a meal plan from the week (that we're already straying from ::sigh::), and thoughts regarding food are also taking on the warm tinge of Thanksgiving planning. Mornings have been gorgeous...just gotta will the thermometer not to inch up so high in the afternoon :)

Applied for a position within my company that, given the 3½-page job description of responsibilities, better be an increase in pay grade. I'm technically 1 year shy of qualified for the job, but I'm hoping my tenure will get me in the door for an interview at least. We'll see...

I'd have to dress like a girl though...yeesh!

So here's a question: if the doctors and experts say that your metabolism slows down and your body's aging speeds up after say, age 35, and you're out of shape and overweight anyway so that's putting added stress on joints, bones, etc., and you notice you're achy like, pretty much every morning and it ain't the wonderful bed you're sleeping on, then is it your body telling you to get in shape because you're reaching a certain age where things don't bounce back as fast, or is it society's power of suggestion telling you you're getting old?

Yeah, I know, nice try blaming it on society, but start exercising NOW!

Just ain't normal...

See, I'm not your garden variety bipolar...in fact, I'm pretty polar :) My meds allow me to hover just below the median mood range for "normal" folks, and without 'em, I'm just down. Make that DOWN, sluggish, slugslime, you want me to do what? Sorry, but getting out of bed is requiring a giant act of will, so if you're wanting anything out of me other than the bare minimum, may I refer you to my complaint department between my first and ring fingers? I used to have impulse issues with shopping during the down times, but the bankruptcy helped get ahold of those...so I consider myself just plain polar (big, white, fuzzy, yup, sounds about right) with a lithium deficiency.

This manic ep has been going on for at least 2 weeks now. I'm feeling strong, I'm getting organized, I'm able to be sad about Dad without going to pieces at the thought of it...it's just a headscratcher...

Finished the blue hat, hoping it'll shrink up a pinch in the wash, because it's too big even for my head. Getting the urge to make soakers out of the leftover virgin biege and Cascade in my stash...

Organizing...

Last night was decent TV, so I made pumpkin bread just for kicks, and then parked my butt in the knitting chair. Got 2 Kathy Reichs books from the library though, and the darn things are so well-written, they're interfering with my knitting time. I knit a row during a show, read during the commercials, switch projects,...Dad's shaking his head at me again...used to make him nuts when I'd be reading and watching TV at the same time.

Tonight I'll sort Husby's home medical file to determine who his FL docs have been for his pain management (there've been several, going back 10 years, and not all are still in town), and if I can stay away from the TV, I may park in the dining room and purge the filing cabinet a bit. I'm eager to put together the household notebooks that I'm compiling material for, and having the filing cabinet in a workable state would help. Another thing I absolutely have to invest in is a 12-month expandable file for the bank receipts and statements, because the "drop it in a box" method I currently have is just nuts. I'll bet there's half a dozen shoeboxes in that place with receipts and none of it's sorted by year or anything. Lucky we haven't been audited yet...How the frick have we survived this long this way? Well, the answer is, we haven't really; that's why this reckoning is occuring.

This weekend I'm going to empty the kitchen cabinets, inventory them, wash 'em out, and restock. Also clean the fridge and organize the freezer (which mainly means the wedding cake is getting a smaller container so there'll be more room in there). Also want to do a plastic container sorting, toss stuff that's mismatched.

So frickin' pleased with myself for making lunch rather than caving to junk food...now the trick is to make it the night before rather than in the morning. If I keep making and eating my homemade whole wheat bread, it'll be even more feasible, because my bread's dense enough not to get soggy overnight in the fridge. Better yet, the MIL was talking last visit or two about unloading her bread machine, because they're just not using it enough - I'm going to suggest she give it to me for Christmas, save on a gift.

I'm not questioning, but...

Seriously, how is a person, who has worked through/with depression from age 16 to the present (22 years!), supposed to take it when life suddenly takes a dramatic upswing, in the face of mind-blowing grief, no less!? I recognize that I'm growing as a result of Dad's passing, and I recognize that my ritual at Halloween brought me to a level of peace with it...but I'd been feeling good for almost a week before Halloween, so maybe the ritual sealed the deal...don't get me wrong, I totally get that I ain't done grieving, that it could even be a type of lifelong process, reconciling myself with him being gone...I'm reminded of a "thirtysomething" episode (of all things), where Gary realized he was in love when the ache of loneliness had subsided, and instead of reveling in being in love, he felt he'd been robbed and took it out on the lucky lady..."that's my ache," he said to her half-jokingly, "how dare you take it from me..." That's what it feels like. I'm not waiting for the other shoe to drop, for once; I'm feeling too strong right now to waste time looking over my shoulder. And if Dad's the one who took the ache from me for now, he's getting a huge thank you. But it takes getting used to...in an email to Lil Sis, I likened it to wearing a coat that's too small...

Anyhoo, didn't get outside much last weekend, but it was a good one...mainly puttered and relaxed. Got truly started on Husby's SS paperwork (because all claims to the contrary up until now have been bullshit), ignored the plants, did bake 2 loaves of wheat bread (which kicked butt, probably my best yet), and I'm working LSIL's sock and a hat for myself right now. Our financial issues have been remedied for now, and I'm setting goals for them to never get that bad again. It truly has woken me up to how slack I've been, how very important it is to run a household with some degree of efficiency. The Internet's been a gold mine in this endeavor; I'm finally reading sites about menu planning, creating a household notebook (since we still don't have the Windows operating systems necessary to do it right on computer), and learning how to keep the house clean so I don't get scattered so easily. Deep down I've got a lot of Dad in me, and I'm a Virgo besides, so I need things to have a place, be in order, and when they're not, I just plunge and don't even realize that it's a symptom of what's miring me, keeping me from acting...relax, people, I'm getting Husby's help too; I know it's not just me.

Spent 2 hours online last night working SS again, and we have just one section to go before we hit Enter, so to speak, get his medical file to them (because that's gotta be faster than letting SS do it, and they need copies of his birth certificate and other stuff anyway), and start crossing our fingers for an expeditious denial, so we can work on an appeal. Sounds pessimistic, but it's more realism...migraines have come a long way as a plausible disability, but we know we've got our work cut out for us.

I've got about 28 rows left to the foot of the first sock and then the toe shaping, so there's a really good chance I can get that done this week. I know how quickly November's going to go by if I let it, and this just isn't a project where SSS (second sock syndrome) can occur, so the only other knitting project getting attention right now is that hat for me, and that's just because I'm psyched it's finally cooler around here. Weather's been windows-open at night and mid-70s tops during the day. I definitely have some form of reverse seasonal affective disorder - this weather has me happier than a pig in poop!

Quick update

It's a rather glorious weekend weatherwise, so I'm trying to get out some, play with my plants, but this weekend is mainly a puttering one. We're having a serious financial crisis, the worst one yet, and it's opened my eyes to how much things need to change for both Husby and I. I put my resume into several positions on Friday, and I'm thinking hard about a 2nd job, while Husby's getting his file sent to SS and looking for part-time work himself...it's been so long, that's all I want him to look for initially, because his head pain's still not quite manageable, so why set yourself up for failure out of the gate by not being able to hold the hours of a full-time position?

The stress of our sitch has thrown off my sleep again, but my head's clear and I'm still feeling strong. I'm in the home stretch on LSIL's first sock, and the only part I'm not happy with is where I picked up the stitches...may do some light mattress stitch after it's done, just to reinforce. It's reintroducing me to the fast gratification of sock knitting, and once I'm done with Jade's gift, I'm looking forward to doing a fresh pair for myself.

For all my wishing and talk, I've done zero baking this harvest season, so I'm thinking about making some soup today with an apple bread for dessert. The next 2 weeks or so are going to require some creativity foodwise, so I'm culling the cabinet for ideas of stuff I can create and freeze. It's time for another bread baking too...I'm trying to eat healthier lately (with mixed success, natch), and the simple things like homemade whole wheat vs. Nature's Own Butterbread do wonders for my spirits.

Happy New Year

It really does feel like a new year is upon me.

One big problem, when you haven't done ritual in ages, is the danger of trying to cram too much in, but it's a fluid process...if you've cast yourself a big enough comfort zone to begin with, the gods aren't going to care if you drop one part or add another. Creating the blue sphere (in Feri tradition), I liken it to casting a fishing net; it doesn't have to be OCD-perfectly shaped. So as I came to something that needed to be dropped, I was able to, without feeling like I was taking something away from the ritual. I was wrestling with my wards before I started, because Celtic dieties for the most part are a bitch to get a handle on in the first place...they didn't have written language for the most part, so everything you read about them is hearsay to begin with. Makes it hard to put your faith in them...like one of the first things you read about Druantia is that she was the mother of the Irish Tree Calendar, but any reconstructionist worth his salt will tell you that the tree calendar didn't even exist...it's a neopagan invention, so how much stock can you put on the rest of what you read about Druantia after that? But then it dawned on me that I've acquired the most personal guardian I could ask for this year, so I asked my wards to step aside and give Dad the job for awhile.

The Dad portion of the ritual was easily the most powerful I've ever experienced. I'd pass the rest of the ritual off as mediocre, because while I was able to center quite a bit, there's still no substitute for being outdoors. While I do believe in my religion, I don't really believe in the dead's ability to communicate with us here on earth...and yet, even while I say that, I'm not willing to completely laugh off what I experienced as the overly emotional visualizations of a grieving daughter, so...I guess I am opening to possibilities. I'm feeling so strong from this, and the past week, that I told Dad it was ok for him to concentrate on Mom, Cyril, and Meara, because they definitely need him more right now.

So I honored Samhain, honored Dad, and rededicated myself to my studies with an emphasis on the Reclaiming and Feri traditions. I'm more than a little excited about it; I haven't cracked open my books in a while, and it's definitely time to actually concentrate on what it means to follow those traditions. Plus, I just know the trancework will help with my grief.

Took a walk after work yesterday at the Julington Durbin Creek Preserve. Opinion: guarded. What I mean is, I think I've lived in Jacksonville too long. The sandy flat areas were refreshing, but once I hit the woods, I got a serious case of the heebie-jeebies. I couldn't relax, kept thinking that it was the perfect environment for a pack of teenage males who wear their pants too low to hide out and smoke weed, or for a homeless guy to be lying in wait or something. Thing is, that actually is silly, because the path was surrounded on both sides by serious swampland (homeless guy would need hipwaders, and gang of punks wouldn't risk their $100 Nikes in that terrain probably, she said, stereotyping)...in fact, I only went about another 1/4 mile before I had to turn back because the swamp had flooded out the path...and when I stopped my imagination long enough to concentrate on the vibes of my surroundings, I did feel pretty completely alone out there. Still, if/when I go back, I'll stick to the open areas if I'm still uncomfortable, and I'll come better prepared with a) walking stick for negotiating sand, gauging mud depths, and fending off imaginery bad guys, b) bug repellant, c) plastic bag for picking up trash (only saw 2 or 3 things, but it made me want to scream), and d) paper and pen for drawing a map of the paths. There's a couple of wood signs and one of them has the paths mapped; I know I'd feel better if I had more of a clue where I was headed. The paths are quite well-marked, but it was brand new and I'm really out of practice at traipsing through nature...I mean, compare the varied walks I've taken in SC with the time spent gallavanting through our back woods in Warren, and it's been 20+ years since I've done any serious hiking. Plus I think I'm just so used to more northern environments; I'm used to keeping my eyes peeled for deer and furry critters, not deer and movement in the water cuz of gators and water moccasins. Florida hiking may as well be on a different planet from SC or CT. Come to think of it, I'm wearing pants and socks next time too.

One thing that definitely woke up in me though, is the desire to get walking again. I keep having dreams where I'm jogging, and while I know walking does just as much good and provides much less chance for injury, I also know I'm selling myself short by thinking my body won't ever be that of a runners. Last thing I want to do is hurt myself when I'm just starting out, so I know I'll take it carefully...but man, it feels nice to look forward to exercise. I'm physically exhausted today, thanks to the monthly hormonal enslavement, but I'm still hoping to get outside after work.

Can't afford to hit KB tonight, so I'll tuck into LSIL's sock after my walk...it's been a couple of days. Starting reading Dreaming the Dark by Starhawk as well.