Mo Magee is the world’s sweetest cat. She is blacker than Dale Cooper’s favorite coffee, and very hard to photograph. 

Fortunately, she likes being in full sunlight.

She isn’t much of a lap cat. She follows me around and hangs out nearby, generally. She only likes to sit on my lap if I’m working at a desk. When I lie down for the night, that’s when the real demonstration of affection begins. 

She dances around in circles on my stomach and chest for a good fifteen or 20 minutes, banging her head into my hands. There will be no knitting, reading, or, God forbid, sleeping, until her needs are satisfied. I’ve cultivated a petting routine that starts off assertive enough to keep her attention, with lots of head scratching, then gradually becomes more and more gentle, until she curls up and falls asleep on my belly. 

The tragic flaw in all of this is that five minutes after she’s finally dozed off, I have a full bladder. 

I OWNZ U, HOOMAN. 

It's time to make camping swag again!

A week or so ago, I went with some campmates to the Renwick Gallery, which is part of the Smithsonian, in Washington DC.  The Renwick is currently hosting an "Art of Burning Man" exhibit. Highly recommended. Inspiring. (In case you are wondering, my camp is called Balls Camp. We favor Ball Gowns.)

I saw a trinket there that inspired me to make a more complex necklace for camp swag than I have in the past. Not saying the designs won't continue to evolve, but I'm pretty happy with it. . .and I'm starting to wonder what an acrylic version would look like. . .

warmer temperatures are intoxicating. 

Episode 7 is almost finished dialogue assembly. 

I made this for lunch and FUCK YEAH:

https://www.thugkitchen.com/roasted_chickpea_broccoli_burrito

I've had an extremely sporadic tachycardia/arrhythmia for as long as I can remember - I'll get was feels like a catch in my throat, notice that my pulse is racing (~200 bpm), get slightly light-headed, and then everything will go back to normal a few minutes later. I tried to track it down with medical services in college, but we couldn't catch it on a monitor. I've never been able to predict it or determine a trigger - not caffeine, not panic attacks, not even hormones. It will happen a few times a month, or not for years, or every few months. Since getting a smartwatch with heart rate monitoring, I've been able to track it more closely and this Spring I mentioned it to my new primary care doc during my routine physical. She wanted me to get it checked out, which, yes, is totally reasonable

Yesterday I went to a cardiologist. He had me describe the whole thing, including that it doesn't really bother me, but my doc told me to come in. He said I didn't have to do anything at all, but as the conversation progressed leaned heavily on how I should at least get an echocardiogram and oh would I indulge him and agree to an event monitor and by the way, really, only one cup of coffee a day is the best plan.

I... don't want to do any of this. I didn't want to go to the Primary Care doc, let alone the Cardiologist, and I definitely don't want to give up my coffee habit.

And also, I'm 46, and I want to be around for my loved ones for a good while longer and if my heart is likely to go kerblooey, but the kerblooey is easily preventable, maybe that's a thing I should find out about.

And I'm totally fascinated by what one can find out about bodies these days.

So, I'm getting an echocardiogram (in June) and an event monitor (sometime, through the mail) and I'm cutting back on coffee and I'm cranky about all of it, but doing it anyway and maybe we'll find out something neat. But also, maybe not, maybe the heart is unknowable. Sometimes signals just get crossed.

(xposted from DreamWidth)

My adventure in Bangkok has come to an end! I want to thank Jesse for the amazing opportunity to help him build the business. I've learned so much from him in the past three months. He's got an amazing team working with him and is about to launch something truly excellent.

Now I'm back in the States, helping Mom as she recovers from surgery, working on a new project and exploring some new opportunities. On to the next adventure!

I do so love patches. But I've never ever made one (or had one made). So I'm attempting to remedy this.

Last night, I made a design. Today, I'm going to find someone to make 100 of them for me. Hopefully this design is "patchable". And that patch makers are affordable.

UPDATE 4/17: The proof is here. Me likey!

Whoa, am I having a bit of an emotional day today. Bear with me, I'm trying to get the world framed right again. I think this particular time is the result of the prolonged bed rest (four weeks!) and a migraine last night followed by insomnia. I could ride it out silently, or I could write to you guys and maybe get a good process going.

I was in the middle of some paperwork I have to take care of once a year. This is the sixth year. It has to do with my work and health, so it's already a touchy subject. While looking through the massive pile of unfiled documents that is now my harddrive (thank you iTunes fiasco), I stumbled upon some emails I wrote to a very close female coworker, exactly 16 years ago today. We thought we were so clever and witty. We lovingly called each other bitch. I have to laugh. We were the youngest at Stanley Vidmar by 15 years in our respective departments, hers sales, mine engineering. I can't imagine what the others thought of us, and I'm so glad I didn't know.

But then I realized, 16 years ago today, I had a successful career, a very active lifestyle, a fiancé, an upcoming wedding, and had just returned from a trip to Jamaica. From where I stand right now, if I looked just right, it seemed like such a stark contrast to now.

I was looking out the bedroom window at another sunny day when the tears hit me. Lots of tears. So I wrote a long, private, journal entry to myself, outlining my woes today (thank you OPW), and then I went back and looked at more of the emails. And I discovered not a month later I was leaving Stanley during another sweep of layoffs.

And I remembered how stressed I was, with the axe dropping almost every Friday. And the three bosses, and the unending overtime, and the list of 21 open projects, each of them unironically labeled top priority. And the tears then, too. So many tears.

And that I started my housecleaning business not long after, and which then became my favorite job ever for the next ten years. A business that got me through a divorce, a health diagnosis, a lost beloved pet, and someone totaling my car. A business that found me a best friend, a bevy of new people in my life, amazing adventures, and eventually a wonderful man who loves me.

I've lived alone for 10 years, fiercely independent. I've had to give up the independence due to health, but I think I accidentally gave up the fierceness, too. And now I may or may not be on the cusp of giving up the alone part. (Or really, I already have and it scares the hell out of me.) On top of that, everything that's happened since last fall is still fairly recent. It really hasn't been that much time yet. I've since filled my time with a renewed relationship, a wonderful vacation, and more recently, back surgery that may improve my quality of life, yet here I sit suddenly reeling from the weight of loss and laughingly not knowing why. Oh, dear.

So, how do I keep my chin up? I'm prone to realism, not optimism. I can't change my stripes in that regard, so I have to work within the pattern. How do I frame this period of time so that I don't keep feeling so lost whenever I'm alone with myself, in this bed? Because I am definitely more than a little lost right now.

Thoughts on what the future might bring are great, but the days are long right here and now, and I'm pretty painfully chained to the right here and now. I've already made the first step by writing it all out and gathering my thoughts, but I could use some help, or just some connection from you guys, to ground me a little today. At the moment, it's difficult just getting up and making food, if that gives you an idea of my mobility levels. So, tell me anything, or tell me nothing at all. Just say hi.

Three and a half weeks out from surgery, and I feel a little like I'm waking up from a coma (again? do I use this description a lot?). It's been nice to read up on OPW after a long day of washing my bedsheets. Yeah, it took all day. Still gotta stop and lay flat down quite a bit.

Now if only I could reach my legs to shave them. There is nothing like freshly shaved legs on freshly laundered sheets. Amirite, girls? Girls who shave?

I'm off the percocet which means my mobility is a little more limited now, and that means a lot more time on my back than even the week before, but it's worth it to be able to kiss that medication and it's side effects goodbye. I was on pretty heavy doses this time, so I'm still sweating like a fat man. And the insomnia is pretty full-on without the help of Benadryl. We're all (middle-age-ish) grownups here so I CAN say how nice it is to be able to poop again. The mood swings can go fuck right off, though. It's only been a week, but that's by far the worst part.

I do want to say that if you're hearing less from me, its usually (not always, but for right now, yes) a sign that things are pretty decent. *Sigh* even good, though I feel like I jinx myself when I say that. I am unfortunately one of those journalers who usually only writes when something bad is going down. It's a good release for bouts of depression, but I forget to come back and here and let folks know my life is more than just these journal entries.

So, let's see. I have a good thing going with a great guy, and we are already doing that thing where we have so much fun together we end up just not ending the date. Let's go do nothing together, it's amazing. These things don't come along every day, so I'm thoroughly enjoying it and hoping the newness feeling stretches out for a good long time. I feel like a lucky girl. :)

What else. Well, I am 3.5 weeks out of surgery, which means I'm 2.5 weeks closer to taking the back brace off. And driving. And maybe doing some light, light, liiiiiight gardening. (How does one garden without bending/lifting/twisting? I shall find out.) That time went by a lot faster than I was expecting. I expect the next 2.5 weeks to go pretty nicely too. Still too soon to know if the surgery worked, so I can't answer that, but I look forward to Spring yard stuff to distract me until I do.

I learned that laughing really does drop pain levels. This has caused me to ask everyone around me for their favorite jokes. There are too many to repeat here, but here are two favorites:

Q: "What is brown and sticky?"

A: "A stick".  (This one makes me laugh before I can even finish it, because I'm a dork for stupid jokes like this. I just made you think of poop!)

Q: "What is the difference between pink and purple?"

A: "The grip." (Buwahahahah, naughty. Thank you Roger and Harold.)

The best was Roger's 80-year-old mother telling me a joke that involved her saying the word "testicles" several times:

A man is lying in bed in a hospital with an oxygen mask over his mouth. A young nurse appears to sponge his face and hands.

"Nurse," he mumbles from behind the mask, "Are my testicles black?"

Embarrassed the young nurse replies, "I don't know, I'm only here to wash your face and hands."

He struggles again to ask, "Nurse, Are my testicles black?"

Again the nurse replies, "I can't tell. I'm only here to wash your face and hands."

The ward nurse passes by and sees the man getting a little distraught so she marches over to inquire what is wrong.

"Nurse," he mumbles, "Are my testicles black?"

Being a nurse she is undaunted. She whips back the bedclothes, pulls down his pajama trousers, moves his penis out of the way, has a good look, pulls up the pajamas, replaces the bedclothes and announces, "Nothing is wrong with them."

At this the man pulls off his oxygen mask and asks again,

"Are my test results back?"

I will never forget my shock and joy at hearing the words "Are my testicles black?" come from her mouth. Ha! That made my back feel better for a good while!

Anyway, where was I. So, yes, nice to come back to earth and catch up with you guys. Thanks for the lovely prose. <3

Much love,

Your Biggest Fan,

Karen

p.s. - I'm forgetting myself and commenting on old posts. Oops!

There's a difference between being a proud small business where you're not tied to big dumb corporate rules so you can be flexible and agile, and being so small that you still have a single AOL email address on your website.

I want to support the small guy, but if they still use AOL, how can I be confident that my credit card info is secure in their office?

This one local place sells kitchen appliances. They have cutesy commercials featuring the owner's two small boys. "I'm Cameron!" "And I'm Gavin!" "And if you have trouble, call us and we'll make sure it gets handled RIGHT!"  I wonder how creepy it would be if I called up the store asking to speak to Cameron or Gavin to complain about a bill or a customer service issue. They would call Child Protective Services in 5 minutes. And what the fuck does that say about their family dynamic (or Dad's business acumen) that a 7 year old is their accountable executive in charge of customer satisfaction?!

Anyway.

We need a new washer/dryer. The one I have currently is the set that came with the house. I would love to get a set of stackables, and then put a shelf where the dryer currently is.  The washer/dryer used to be in the basement, but my house's previous owners brought them to the main floor of the house, taking up the hall linen closet with the washer/dryer. So I'd love to reclaim some of that closet space since I currently have none whatsoever, unless you count bedroom closets.

I heard a thing on the radio this morning about how small businesses should consider buying "CyberInsurance" in addition to general liability insurance and worker's comp, because small businesses are more vulnerable to cyberattacks.  Really? I know of a zillion huge corporations that were brought down by the ransomware viruses and no small businesses that I use were hit. But maybe that's because large businesses have a higher percentage of dumb people who surf the web at work, clicking on shit they oughtn't... and granted, I'm a small (vaguely tech-related) company, so maybe the percentage of employees who work for my company who click on dumb shit is 0%. 

But I figure Cameron and Gavin (or their mom) click on dumb shit pretty often, so they probably need CyberInsurance. 

The only people who use the term "cyber" are people who shouldn't.

In other news, we spent this past weekend (Saturday through Tuesday) at my folks' place. We hadn't seen them since Christmas, which is waaaaay too long. My mom tore a muscle in her right shoulder, so in addition to her back and her legs being in constant pain, let's add her right shoulder to the laundry list.  My dad has days where he's very weak for no discernible reason, so we needed to go up there and just help them out a bit. They felt so awful that they decided to cancel Easter dinner because my mom couldn't cook and my dad couldn't clean the house, and they both felt that having a house full of people would be too much.

So we offered to come up and do all of the cooking/cleaning, so now Easter is back on. 

We're in the car now heading back up there. We'll be there for a few days. I'm so excited it's finally starting to get warm... this fucking winter might FINALLY be behind us.

I hope everyone has a fabulous Easter, Passover, or April Fool's. :-)