CrestedCaracara of Sleet
Feb. 26th, 2018 09:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoI am SO GRUMPY. Circumstances are making me feel that I hate everything. I had a good visit, meditation, and lunch on Friday with Dragonfly and her wife, our minister who is currently on sabbatical. I missed seeing both of them this past month, and really enjoyed meditating and getting my head into a completely different space--one where I was full of calm, love, and acceptance. However, it only took a few minutes of Real Life for me to plummet back into that familiar space of gnashing my teeth and growling.
I'm giving a trigger warning here, because it occurs to me that there might be people reading here who have problems with alcohol, so all my humorous references to the occasional drink could cause pain. If that's you, read no further. If you send me a private message, I'll try to avoid such references in future. If I don't get any messages, I'll assume I'm not causing a problem, but I'll still issue a warning before having a shot.
Anyway . . . as I was saying, having a drink has finally motivated me to post, although it is making me misspell things frequently as I type. Last night, the Sparrowhawk offered to make me a margarita, and I declined. Why? Because VEGETARIAN FOOD, that's why. We went out to dinner on Saturday with the Dirty Bastards. We did a potluck at the home of a friend who is vegan. She kindly made some white bean chili with a bit of chicken in it for the non-vegans. We also had quinoa bowls and salad with cashew and lime dressing. I ate it . . . but every time I go and eat vegetarian/vegan food with these people--much as I love them--it makes my stomach hurt terribly afterward. I hate quinoa. Does that make me a terrible person if I just say that? So I declined having a drink, because I knew it would make my stomach hurt even more.
So . . . last night, my mother called me at 11:30 at night. She's terribly muddled about her phone. She finally called a helper to call my number. I'm not going to try to describe our conversation, which was not really two-sided because she had taken her hearing aids out. Hello, that may be why you CAN'T FORKING HEAR ME. Afterwards, I said, "I could use that margarita now." But I changed my mind again, because my stomach was still hurting. I tried to sleep and couldn't, got up and spent a couple or three hours going down the rabbitholes of various fan controversies (hello, Readercon) until 4 am when I finally went back to sleep. Tonight, after talking to her again, I said, "I'll take that drink now. Aaand I'll take another drink, too."
Hate vegan food. Hate stomach aches. Hate still coughing. Hate cons and fanfights. Hate my mother. Well, not really, but sometimes I hate the way things are with her. Hate politics. Hate the internet. Hate not sleeping. Hate feeling no one cares what I write. Love the Sparrowhawk, our kids, my friends, a shot of tequila and a shot of Jack. I also love "About A Boy," which we are re-watching, again. Why? Because in spite of all the things I hate, no man is an island.
I'm giving a trigger warning here, because it occurs to me that there might be people reading here who have problems with alcohol, so all my humorous references to the occasional drink could cause pain. If that's you, read no further. If you send me a private message, I'll try to avoid such references in future. If I don't get any messages, I'll assume I'm not causing a problem, but I'll still issue a warning before having a shot.
Anyway . . . as I was saying, having a drink has finally motivated me to post, although it is making me misspell things frequently as I type. Last night, the Sparrowhawk offered to make me a margarita, and I declined. Why? Because VEGETARIAN FOOD, that's why. We went out to dinner on Saturday with the Dirty Bastards. We did a potluck at the home of a friend who is vegan. She kindly made some white bean chili with a bit of chicken in it for the non-vegans. We also had quinoa bowls and salad with cashew and lime dressing. I ate it . . . but every time I go and eat vegetarian/vegan food with these people--much as I love them--it makes my stomach hurt terribly afterward. I hate quinoa. Does that make me a terrible person if I just say that? So I declined having a drink, because I knew it would make my stomach hurt even more.
So . . . last night, my mother called me at 11:30 at night. She's terribly muddled about her phone. She finally called a helper to call my number. I'm not going to try to describe our conversation, which was not really two-sided because she had taken her hearing aids out. Hello, that may be why you CAN'T FORKING HEAR ME. Afterwards, I said, "I could use that margarita now." But I changed my mind again, because my stomach was still hurting. I tried to sleep and couldn't, got up and spent a couple or three hours going down the rabbitholes of various fan controversies (hello, Readercon) until 4 am when I finally went back to sleep. Tonight, after talking to her again, I said, "I'll take that drink now. Aaand I'll take another drink, too."
Hate vegan food. Hate stomach aches. Hate still coughing. Hate cons and fanfights. Hate my mother. Well, not really, but sometimes I hate the way things are with her. Hate politics. Hate the internet. Hate not sleeping. Hate feeling no one cares what I write. Love the Sparrowhawk, our kids, my friends, a shot of tequila and a shot of Jack. I also love "About A Boy," which we are re-watching, again. Why? Because in spite of all the things I hate, no man is an island.
There are people who love you!
Date: 2018-02-27 06:18 pm (UTC)Also: "Hey, don't volunteer to censor yourself if one random person happens not to like you mentioning alcohol. You are not that person's servant! YOU ARE A FREE WOMAN!!"
Re: There are people who love you!
Date: 2018-03-02 03:58 am (UTC)Nice talking to you tonight!