"And it will push right back"

A lovely, cool morning. Cats are fed, dog is walked, I'm steeping tea in the adorably floral tea mug/strainer set Purple gave me. Soon, I'll go back to cross-stitching, or maybe puttering and listening/watching to either an old episode of All Songs Considered or Hoarders. (which is possibly the high and low points of my media consumption right there)

So, I went to a party. BlueViolin's, to be precise (well, her house's). And house, hosts and guests were all lovely. There were purple couches, and I got to snuggle with Bespoke and Delight. (There's a reason that I wrote multiple poems about wanting a hand on my hip, there's a reason Bespoke pushes like 80% of my buttons.) I even told him that I was referring to him as Inconvenient Crush is Inconvenient, and either he thought it was as funny as I do, or he laughed to humor me, and either of those is okay.

I did sort of want a drink a couple times, I felt like it would either calm me down, or perk me up, or whatever that weird combination is where being tipsy makes one worry less and talk more. (though, truthfully, I don't think I've spent much time tipsy, I tended to try to get from sober to blackout drunk as quickly as possible). But it wasn't really over the top, and it didn't hurt like being around drinking people sometimes does. Most of my wounds remained entirely salt-free.

In other news: my job appears to be sticking around for the moment. We're transitioning from HMS to HSPH, and I think that I'm still eventually going to be redundant staff, but for the moment, I'm going to keep riding it out. The fact that finding out my job would continue to exist depressed me is probably something I should start to deal with, but for the moment I'll just idly poke around harvard's internal job postings.

To "celebrate" this, I dyed my hair purple. Or, more precisely, I paid a lovely woman named Ashley so to do. But I'm crazy pleased with the results and want my hair to look like this forever, though the not washing my hair every day is going to take a while to really get on board with. (Seriously, it sounds like I'm going to save to save all my hairwashing for post-gym, which isn't ideal timing)

The stink in my house seems mostly gone, and I was comforted (kind of) when I found out the owner of the downstairs condo has put out poison for the mice he has. I didn't know people still used crawl-off-and-die methods of handling rodents, and I'm a little peeved at him, but it feels less like my fault.

My psychiatrist told me that I should try to feed more people, that I lit up when I started to talk about having people over for the 4th. I kind of miss cooking for people, or even really enjoying cooking for Jason and I. Cooking and I started to drift apart when I eliminated soy, and even more so when I tried WW. And now Light eats lunch at work, and I literally eat the same thing for lunch every day, cooking seems increasingly less necessary and by extension, less interesting. But I still love feeding people. And I still love praise. And now, I almost never cook for anyone but Hips and Hands, and even then, it's often Light who does most of the prep.

And now for a grand adventure of a day. PEM, making food with green beans, practicing ASL, etc, etc.

Sidenote: anyone want to come to a Jill Sobule show on Thursday with me?

"And it will push right back"

A lovely, cool morning. Cats are fed, dog is walked, I'm steeping tea in the adorably floral tea mug/strainer set Purple gave me. Soon, I'll go back to cross-stitching, or maybe puttering and listening/watching to either an old episode of All Songs Considered or Hoarders. (which is possibly the high and low points of my media consumption right there)

So, I went to a party. BlueViolin's, to be precise (well, her house's). And house, hosts and guests were all lovely. There were purple couches, and I got to snuggle with Bespoke and Delight. (There's a reason that I wrote multiple poems about wanting a hand on my hip, there's a reason Bespoke pushes like 80% of my buttons.) I even told him that I was referring to him as Inconvenient Crush is Inconvenient, and either he thought it was as funny as I do, or he laughed to humor me, and either of those is okay.

I did sort of want a drink a couple times, I felt like it would either calm me down, or perk me up, or whatever that weird combination is where being tipsy makes one worry less and talk more. (though, truthfully, I don't think I've spent much time tipsy, I tended to try to get from sober to blackout drunk as quickly as possible). But it wasn't really over the top, and it didn't hurt like being around drinking people sometimes does. Most of my wounds remained entirely salt-free.

In other news: my job appears to be sticking around for the moment. We're transitioning from HMS to HSPH, and I think that I'm still eventually going to be redundant staff, but for the moment, I'm going to keep riding it out. The fact that finding out my job would continue to exist depressed me is probably something I should start to deal with, but for the moment I'll just idly poke around harvard's internal job postings.

To "celebrate" this, I dyed my hair purple. Or, more precisely, I paid a lovely woman named Ashley so to do. But I'm crazy pleased with the results and want my hair to look like this forever, though the not washing my hair every day is going to take a while to really get on board with. (Seriously, it sounds like I'm going to save to save all my hairwashing for post-gym, which isn't ideal timing)

The stink in my house seems mostly gone, and I was comforted (kind of) when I found out the owner of the downstairs condo has put out poison for the mice he has. I didn't know people still used crawl-off-and-die methods of handling rodents, and I'm a little peeved at him, but it feels less like my fault.

My psychiatrist told me that I should try to feed more people, that I lit up when I started to talk about having people over for the 4th. I kind of miss cooking for people, or even really enjoying cooking for Jason and I. Cooking and I started to drift apart when I eliminated soy, and even more so when I tried WW. And now Light eats lunch at work, and I literally eat the same thing for lunch every day, cooking seems increasingly less necessary and by extension, less interesting. But I still love feeding people. And I still love praise. And now, I almost never cook for anyone but Hips and Hands, and even then, it's often Light who does most of the prep.

And now for a grand adventure of a day. PEM, making food with green beans, practicing ASL, etc, etc.

Sidenote: anyone want to come to a Jill Sobule show on Thursday with me?