Flotsam: October 2008 Archives

I've had a lot of ebbs and flows of energy this week. I keep trying to post, but whenever I have the time to do it, I'm too cranky. Or I write something and just don't like it.

There's still the ragged edge of a cold wilfully hanging around in my system, and I expect that's why. It's annoying, and I'm inclined to complain about it every time I sit down to post, and then those posts don't make it past my filter.

Anyway. Blah.

The weather turned suddenly radically colder today, and I quite enjoyed it (apart from having cold knees on the way home because I forgot to put on my legwarmers, and didn't want to stop and take off my shoes to put them on en route). I'd forgotten about the unique beauties of winter cycling in the city - chief among them the simple fact that there are fewer people out, which means more road for me.

Also, there's something refreshing about riding in cold air, especially air that's hovering somewhere in the 40s. It's not so cold that your extremities get numb, and a little judicious layering has you quite comfortable while you're underway (you get cold as hell when you stop, of course, because you're less heavily bundled than the folks in street clothes), and there's a sense of adventure about it. I like it. Actually, I love it. And I'd forgotten how it felt.

Another thing I'm loving lately is (drumroll please) knitting. Who knew? After this summer's pathetic trailing away of interest I thought maybe I'd finally killed the yarn muse.

Nope. Just needed it to get cold enough.

See the theme here? I like the cold, just not having a cold. Cough.

Anyway, I also like pumpkins and gingerbread and making soup. In fact, I had a little list going the other day, Simple Things I Like:

Dr. Bronner's Magic Soap (lavender or rose hemp)
Really good apples that grew on a tree nearby
Ink (the kind that comes in little bottles)
Wooden building blocks
Bread
Soup
Rosebud Salve and/or Badger Balm
The colour grey (both of those words must be spelled in British fashion)
Milk cooking in a small white pot
Carving a pumpkin
Bandanas
Violets (the kind that grow wild on your lawn)
Crayons (that smell)
Vanilla
Single-speed bicycles
Sturdy shoes
Campfires
Wearing things I've made myself
Looking at the stars
Really good hugs.

While we're at it, Complicated Things I Like:

Philosophy
Champagne
Curry
Cake
Music
Peonies
Dancing
Tailored velvet jackets
That $500 long purple silk parachute dress I tried on
Fancy train cars
Luxe hotel rooms
Handmade quilts
Outlandish hats
Cameras
Chocolate
Gore-Tex
Astronomy

Care to chime in? What simple (or complex) things do you like?

Day four of isolation, and my mind starts to lose the distinction between fiction and reality. Okay, some of that is due to having read The Subtle Knife until five in the morning, a book that deals with multiple worlds linked by thin slices that the characters can walk through. It's something to do with dark matter, but don't anybody tell me, because I'm only a little ways into it, and I don't want to hear the punchline prematurely.

Really, I think the hardest part of being sick, for me, has to be being stuck in my house all alone for days on end. I've called both mom and Boywich (the two people I always wish for when I don't feel well). I guess that tells you something about the people I'm okay with acting like a two-year-old around. Not necessarily nice for them.

My cat has been annoying, demanding attention in an ever louder and more insistent whine. Lovely. Shut up, dear.

I am drinking the good coffee. The one that looks like you-know-who. He even checked out the beans, rubbing a few between his fingers to assess their oiliness, because I ran into him the day I'd bought it. Haven't seen him in an age, which is causing that particular crush to fade a bit, that and the fact that it didn't look to be leading to anywhere in particular (other than frustration). Also, it seems that when I'm really feeling shitty, I don't care so much about boys. Something about being full of snot tending to make me feel less than spectacularly attractive.

Also, I was dumb and took a couple of self-portraits yesterday. "Whoa! I look old. Am I always that pale?"

See? Dumbass.

Apart from the brief burst of fevered activity on the essay (which I'll no doubt have to revise when I'm thinking clearly), I've done nothing I needed to get done around the house. Okay, I cleaned the bathroom a bit, but that took five minutes.

I need to make myself some little zippered pouches to go in my bike bag, one for tools and one for condoms (hey, you asked) (oh, you didn't? well, since this is my blog, we're going to pretend like you did, anyway. see? two years old. apart from the fact that two-year-olds don't have much need for condoms. of course, neither do I, of late. okay, exiting parentheses now). Haven't done that.

Haven't made those old jeans into a nifty jean skirt, either. Which wouldn't matter, except that the jeans are sprawled across the top of the sewing machine, discouraging me from making the zippered pouches, which I really do rather need.

What is it about this particular cold that makes me choke on coffee? Every morning for the last four. I never normally choke on coffee. It's gotten so that I get a cup of water ready at the same time, without even thinking about the reason why. Though of course I don't put the cup of water within easy reach, so I always have to get up....

Really, you're thinking, she'd better get well soon or we're all going to keel over from boredom. Yeah, me too.

Plus, the bikes are looking very, very lonely. I miss them. It's like they and the outdoors are one, and I miss it all. I miss being a human being, instead of an invalid. That last is pronounced the way they did in Gattaca, invalid.

I have been knitting up a (small) storm, though. Progress on the 2nd mitten of J-ness. Also, this. Is it not super-awesome? Just like the label said.

Ah, the ritual of morning. Get up to pee; cat comes in and puts her front paws on my knees while I'm sitting there. (More than you wanted to know, but it's such a funny habit.)

Put water on for coffee. Put music on (just got one of these for the Nano, so now I can have Lemon Jelly for breakfast. Yum!). Get out coffee grinder and jar of beans.

Cat flees behind television.

Grind coffee. Pour grounds into green bowl. Spoon, then scrape grounds into French press. Water boils. Put milk on stove in little white pot. Pour water over coffee. Bloom. Pour rest of water over coffee. Stir with wooden spoon. Put lid on. Milk comes to point of making light skin with tiny bubbles underneath.

Milk and coffee ready at exact same moment (I have this down to an art). Stir coffee again (if being anal about it, as I was today). Press down gently. Love this moment. Pour coffee, admiring the aesthetics of the press and the liquid itself. Then, favorite part. Pour milk from little white pot and watch coffee turn perfect color (not too far off from the skin of a certain boy who shall remain nameless, though he's a little darker than au lait).

Set pot aside for leftover milk to cool to kitten-safe temperature (some do not like it hot).

Sit down at computer to write this. Love mug. Love coffee. Love music. Love cat.

Get up four minutes later and pour remaining milk into jar lid for kitten, who is yowling all the while. She laps it up, then climbs happily onto back of sofa and sits looking regal like one of those Egyptian temple guards.

I actually love mornings. I just like them to come when I decide I'm ready for them. Today, that was about 12:45pm.

"All the ducks are swimming in the water." - Lemon Jelly