Migraine

I’m still a little light sensitive but I have no real excuse not to go to work, so I will go.  I completely lost yesterday.  Around 7:55 I put the roast into the slow cooker. Around 8 am I got ‘the flashies’ and by 8:30 I had stabbing pain behind my eye and then poof the center of my visual field disappeared.  I drank a cup of coffee and went back to bed.  Around 11:15 I woke up again and moved like arthritic crow through the house trying to determine if there was anything useful I could do, but moving made me nauseated so I lay back down.  Around 2 I ran a hot bath and around 4 I managed to get mobile enough to put the veggies on to roast (braised beast with oven roasted potatoes, yams and squash).  Keith and Paul ate dinner with me (my appetite returned when my visual field did) and Jeff was kept late at work but he pronounced my efforts awesome, which was good enough for me.  I hadn’t fed him a proper meal in ages so it’s quite funny that the one day I was really in no shape to do it I could – but it was literally the only thing I did yesterday.

What the ????

It’s raining, it’s dark, I’m a pedestrian, I think I’ll jump in front of Allegra’s car.

I don’t mind pedestrians being suicidal, but puhlease, not during my commute when I’m already running late.

Yesterday Paul and Keith and I went down to Suzanne’s (where stayeth Katie) and had pierogies and chicken for dinner.  Suzanne was in fine form and Katie cooked dinner.  Then I took Keith back to Geekhaus and we watched the last two eps of season 4 The Wire (oh, Dukie, oh Bodie) and all in all it was a very pleasant evening.

I woke up super early and cooked up some oatmeal.  As soon as it clicks over 7 am I’m going to put a roast in the crockpot; Jeff’s been getting stiffed on hot meals and I’m thinking meat and two veg for tonight.

I have started working on another long poem – first in almost ten years – called The Drunkard’s Walk, which is going to be a long meditation about the mystery of human existence as framed by our limited cognition.  And alcohol.

Katie is cocooning.  More I cannot say on that subject.

I had an hour long conversation with a customer last night.  Mostly we stuck to business but at one point he pointed out that he is a Canadian born into an American body, and I owned that in almost 13 years of abusing customers in the service of the alternative energy business I had never heard an American say that.  I was so moved I offered him shelter in Vancouver come the revolution.  He was grateful, and we returned to business.

I am transcribing dreffle Victorian poetry, and there’s this one poem so vilely racist that the backs of my eyes get scratchy just looking at the damned thing.  And in 150 years, if anybody survives, people will be looking at my ravings and know me for a bigoted lunatic.  Sigh.

If everyone needs a goal, here’s mine; I’m training hard to be bedridden.  Because, you know, getting out of bed sucks so bad.

Either I’m too sensitive or else I’m getting soft – B Dylan

Yesterday something that happened at the budget meeting after church horrified and disgusted me.  I exercised my democratic franchise and voted – alone of the congregation – against it.

A church is bigger than its minister.  After all the f-cking scandals – and guh knows Unitardians have theirs – this is the lesson.  The people stay, the minister moves on.  Even if everything is right and tight, the minister still moves on. It’s a career, after all, not an ossuary.

Unitarian scandals?  Co-ministering spouses get a divorce in the middle of their service.  Ministers date church presidents.  Ministers get up in the grill of the worship services committee and go down in flames.  Ministers try to get a particular church to adopt a particular theology in the teeth of heavy resistance and are removed.  Unitarian scandals are usually ’bout sex and power. I imagine there have been scandals about ministers and money, but not that I ever heard in 15 years of Unitarianism.

An ongoing scandal in Unitarianism is how poly relationships are where gay relationships were in the 80’s.  Those in the know, know, and those who aren’t don’t get told because it’s ‘Too extreme for where the flock is right now’.  So I know a bunch of stuff about polyamory and Unitarians (Canadian and Yank) and I have to keep my mouth shut, or horses will be frightened.

You know what it’s like to march in Pride parades and know this shit?  It feels human.  It don’t feel pretty, but there it is.

Anyway, when you commit to a church family, it’s warts and all.  It’s knowing that the minister, or lack of one, will change in the future; people will join and people will quit and it’s all part of life’s rich pageant.  I quit Beacon and realized that what I was running away from was myself, so I came back.  All the problems I had are still there but I’m motivated to work on at least some of them.  Including my reaction.  I am not going to just blithely suck it all up.

This paragraph deleted on the insistence of my lawyer.

And to cleanse my palate of all this, Paul and I, joined by Keith, evangelized for Unitarianism yesterday.  After church we put door hangers in the neighbourhood around the church, and glad we are that we did, too; it’s a gorgeous little neighbourhood and the views are awesome.  Hint, hint.  Stop, look, listen, and think.  And go back to the work, because it don’t stop.

Snowing and assfreezing cold

Work is, like, amazing.  I feel like I’m looking at the stars, and they’re just the little lights you get when you’ve hit a wall abrumptly (deliberate typo).  Yet everyone is so nice, and I feel so fortunate.

Katie is refusing to answer the phone or talk to me except a terse ‘alive’ on facebook. I have no idea if she even typed that message.  Some folks you can’t do favours for, so I’m going to do myself a favour and just ignore all of this. 

Ziva, how I love your heater.

I really, really need snow tires.  Not enough tread and too much slippery from cold road surfaces.