(no subject)
Feb. 15th, 2005 11:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zdashamberToday at about 2 I started to get the dry feeling at the back of my palate that signifies "fighting off a cold". Spent the rest of the day fighting, which basically involves "drown it in water, honey, and fruit juice". Thinking in the shower that it was irritating to have the signal for "fighting a cold!" be so, well, irritating. Thinking I'd prefer an indicator light, or something. But then, I suppose all the other monkeys would stone me were that the case, so it does in fact have to be something internal and feel-based. And it has to be something non-pleasant, so I recognize that colds are a bad thing... So I suppose it's about what it should be.
Bah!
I'm hoping "drown it with honey" works, because I have neat stuff going to be happening this weekend. Bay Area folks, if I haven't gotten to you yet, here's your warning:
So, yesterday, inspired by Eric who has no LJ so far as I know Todd, I biked to work; grey morning, but I'm like, "Eh, it'll be all shiny by the end of the day, that's always the pattern." Nope. Biked home in the rain. Adventure! I need more flashy light thingies to stick on various parts of my person and bicycle; currently I have only a headlight and a flashy red taillight.
Also, I need plastic chaps. Who'd've thought it would come to this, eh?
. . . .
Sunday midnight-ish when I came home from gaming, I happened to glance at my daffodils, growing on either side of the front walk. The dim halogen streetlight revealed a dark patch on one, which on closer examination resolved into a snail eating the flower. A glance to the other side showed two more snails eating the daffodils over there. I debated for some moments plucking them off and crushing them on the walk. I mean, people do that. But I'm too chicken-hearted. I mean, I've been glorying in those daffodils for weeks; I guess it's ok now to let something else enjoy them. And I suppose snails are part of some sort of ecosystem.
Leads me to think of ways I could shift the steady-state equation of my front walk in a non-snail direction, though. Like, could I host a toad? I love toads.
So long as the snails stay away from the iris.
Anything that touches the iris is forfeit.
. . . .
Alright: So iris are among my favorite flowers. And I mean Bearded Iris. Love the smell (purple!), the depth of sparkly color cells on close examination of the petals; the fur, the tall stateliness. I ordered two years ago some iris of particularly pretty color combinations off the internet, and made a special side trip when I was back in Colorado to get more iris rhizomes. I put them in the ground around the front walk. They sprouted.
Whoever it is that cuts the lawn came by and mowed them down.
Unlike my love of humanity, the iris grew back. (Kidding! But honestly, who can't tell iris leaves from weed leaves?!) I abandoned my simple-look idea, and cleared a large circle of dirt around each to make it obvious that they were there by design.
They were mowed again.
(No really! I love humans!) So I put in the entire bit of garden by my front walk just to make it clear that the iris were wanted plants. And I surrounded them with cages, which was a damn sight more than I'd done for the tomato plant in the back garden, which trails all over everything... (Not like I ever go back there to pick tomatoes, anyway... This year I'm totally putting a tomato out front where maybe it will get enough sun to be tasty.)
The iris grew back. A couple weeks back I saw that one had buds... And then flowers. MUA HAHAHAHA!
There are two others coming towards budding. The really cool thing is that I don't remember what I planted, so it's all a surprise gift from me-of-the-past to me-of-the-now.
Ain't no snail gets to eat my presents.
I hope the rain doesn't wash the iris flowers away. They do not in general seem to be as sturdy as the daffodil flowers.
. . . .
Right, I feel like continuing to ramble. I did a huge chunk of my Christmas shopping in the last few days before Christmas, so that credit card bill I paid today. What with the "work sucks and I damn well better be enjoying this money" aspects added to that, it was kind of a Ow moment. But, hey, the stuff I got for myself I do in fact love.
A chunk of my cash at the end of December went off to the Red Cross International Fund. I also stopped by and donated blood... Turned out to be almost exactly 6 months after the first time I'd donated blood, which was shortly before the 4th of July, when someone at work sent around a "we're nearly out of blood, and people are going to be drinking and crashing this holiday" e-mail. I never got around to donating blood after September 11th; the Red Cross was pretty much immediately swamped, and I recognized that. Still, I felt that blood donation was something I should do... After all, my blood was the best, O-.
Or so I thought. The blood card that came in the mail in August said B-. What?! I thought. What?! All my life I'd thought I was an O, felt all smug about being so useful to the world, being recessive... Wrote "O" on my hang gliding emergency sheet... B?!
And what's worse: negative?! Dammit! That would mean that if I ever got sucked back into the past, I'd likely only be able to have one child ever!
Alright, I exaggerate, but so far as I understand it, the negative/positive thing refers to whether you're positive for Rh factor. Positive is dominant. A negative mother can carry a positive child once, but in the process of giving birth the child's and mother's blood mix. (Don't that sound like just all kinds of fun?) The mother's immune system perks up as it notices the Rh, "What? What's all this shit? Let's get some antibodies in here..."
Next time the mother is carrying a positive baby, some immune stuff happens to wander through the placenta. "Wait a second... This baby! It's full of bad shit! Alert! Alert!"
And then you get the mother's immune system attacking the baby's blood. Bah! Bah, I say!
Anyway. B. Dammit.
Right, where was I?
Giving blood. Not really so bad. In December I went in in a very fey mood. They cut your fingertip and squeeze a measured drop of blood into a 50ml conical full of blue solution, and time how long it takes to drop to the bottom of the tube as a measure of whether you have enough iron in your blood. It's like watching a lava lamp, the blood dropping slowly down in a blob. The fingertip cutting is the most painful part.
The sticking-a-needle in your vein; mostly uncomfortable. Like, "if I moved, it would hurt, but here it just feels kinda strange."
I was loathe to give blood in the past because one of my earliest memories is of Mom giving blood in the basement of our Lutheran church, standing up after, and fainting. Our blood pressure is damn low.
In July I gave blood around lunch and went back to work; didn't have much to eat except the free cookies and party mix the Red Cross provides. Didn't feel much like eating; not queasy, just kinda tired. Mentally, it was like being slightly drunk. However, while in a lab coat and gloves that afternoon, standing and working at a bench, on several occasions my temperature shot up and I had to stop and kneel with my head between my knees, or sit and put my feet up, to keep from fainting.
Affects me for weeks. I wish they'd at least let me hold the bag-o-blood after. Eh, well.
Also, pity is that you can't have booze for some hours (5-6?) after giving blood.
Still, I'd reccommend you try it if you haven't, and if you qualify.
Bah. Time for more liquids with honey.
Bah!
I'm hoping "drown it with honey" works, because I have neat stuff going to be happening this weekend. Bay Area folks, if I haven't gotten to you yet, here's your warning:
On Saturday, at the Moscone Center, at 1:00, Wondercon will be having Joss Whedon, Nathan Fillion, Adam Baldwin, and Summer Glau in to talk about and show clips from "Serenity".I'm sure as hell going to be there. I figure this notice oughtta hit just about everyone I haven't told personally, except for those who only occasionally pass by my LJ and owe me money, so hey, bummer.
So, yesterday, inspired by Eric who has no LJ so far as I know Todd, I biked to work; grey morning, but I'm like, "Eh, it'll be all shiny by the end of the day, that's always the pattern." Nope. Biked home in the rain. Adventure! I need more flashy light thingies to stick on various parts of my person and bicycle; currently I have only a headlight and a flashy red taillight.
Also, I need plastic chaps. Who'd've thought it would come to this, eh?
. . . .
Sunday midnight-ish when I came home from gaming, I happened to glance at my daffodils, growing on either side of the front walk. The dim halogen streetlight revealed a dark patch on one, which on closer examination resolved into a snail eating the flower. A glance to the other side showed two more snails eating the daffodils over there. I debated for some moments plucking them off and crushing them on the walk. I mean, people do that. But I'm too chicken-hearted. I mean, I've been glorying in those daffodils for weeks; I guess it's ok now to let something else enjoy them. And I suppose snails are part of some sort of ecosystem.
Leads me to think of ways I could shift the steady-state equation of my front walk in a non-snail direction, though. Like, could I host a toad? I love toads.
So long as the snails stay away from the iris.
Anything that touches the iris is forfeit.
. . . .
Alright: So iris are among my favorite flowers. And I mean Bearded Iris. Love the smell (purple!), the depth of sparkly color cells on close examination of the petals; the fur, the tall stateliness. I ordered two years ago some iris of particularly pretty color combinations off the internet, and made a special side trip when I was back in Colorado to get more iris rhizomes. I put them in the ground around the front walk. They sprouted.
Whoever it is that cuts the lawn came by and mowed them down.
Unlike my love of humanity, the iris grew back. (Kidding! But honestly, who can't tell iris leaves from weed leaves?!) I abandoned my simple-look idea, and cleared a large circle of dirt around each to make it obvious that they were there by design.
They were mowed again.
(No really! I love humans!) So I put in the entire bit of garden by my front walk just to make it clear that the iris were wanted plants. And I surrounded them with cages, which was a damn sight more than I'd done for the tomato plant in the back garden, which trails all over everything... (Not like I ever go back there to pick tomatoes, anyway... This year I'm totally putting a tomato out front where maybe it will get enough sun to be tasty.)
The iris grew back. A couple weeks back I saw that one had buds... And then flowers. MUA HAHAHAHA!
There are two others coming towards budding. The really cool thing is that I don't remember what I planted, so it's all a surprise gift from me-of-the-past to me-of-the-now.
Ain't no snail gets to eat my presents.
I hope the rain doesn't wash the iris flowers away. They do not in general seem to be as sturdy as the daffodil flowers.
. . . .
Right, I feel like continuing to ramble. I did a huge chunk of my Christmas shopping in the last few days before Christmas, so that credit card bill I paid today. What with the "work sucks and I damn well better be enjoying this money" aspects added to that, it was kind of a Ow moment. But, hey, the stuff I got for myself I do in fact love.
A chunk of my cash at the end of December went off to the Red Cross International Fund. I also stopped by and donated blood... Turned out to be almost exactly 6 months after the first time I'd donated blood, which was shortly before the 4th of July, when someone at work sent around a "we're nearly out of blood, and people are going to be drinking and crashing this holiday" e-mail. I never got around to donating blood after September 11th; the Red Cross was pretty much immediately swamped, and I recognized that. Still, I felt that blood donation was something I should do... After all, my blood was the best, O-.
Or so I thought. The blood card that came in the mail in August said B-. What?! I thought. What?! All my life I'd thought I was an O, felt all smug about being so useful to the world, being recessive... Wrote "O" on my hang gliding emergency sheet... B?!
And what's worse: negative?! Dammit! That would mean that if I ever got sucked back into the past, I'd likely only be able to have one child ever!
Alright, I exaggerate, but so far as I understand it, the negative/positive thing refers to whether you're positive for Rh factor. Positive is dominant. A negative mother can carry a positive child once, but in the process of giving birth the child's and mother's blood mix. (Don't that sound like just all kinds of fun?) The mother's immune system perks up as it notices the Rh, "What? What's all this shit? Let's get some antibodies in here..."
Next time the mother is carrying a positive baby, some immune stuff happens to wander through the placenta. "Wait a second... This baby! It's full of bad shit! Alert! Alert!"
And then you get the mother's immune system attacking the baby's blood. Bah! Bah, I say!
Anyway. B. Dammit.
Right, where was I?
Giving blood. Not really so bad. In December I went in in a very fey mood. They cut your fingertip and squeeze a measured drop of blood into a 50ml conical full of blue solution, and time how long it takes to drop to the bottom of the tube as a measure of whether you have enough iron in your blood. It's like watching a lava lamp, the blood dropping slowly down in a blob. The fingertip cutting is the most painful part.
The sticking-a-needle in your vein; mostly uncomfortable. Like, "if I moved, it would hurt, but here it just feels kinda strange."
I was loathe to give blood in the past because one of my earliest memories is of Mom giving blood in the basement of our Lutheran church, standing up after, and fainting. Our blood pressure is damn low.
In July I gave blood around lunch and went back to work; didn't have much to eat except the free cookies and party mix the Red Cross provides. Didn't feel much like eating; not queasy, just kinda tired. Mentally, it was like being slightly drunk. However, while in a lab coat and gloves that afternoon, standing and working at a bench, on several occasions my temperature shot up and I had to stop and kneel with my head between my knees, or sit and put my feet up, to keep from fainting.
Affects me for weeks. I wish they'd at least let me hold the bag-o-blood after. Eh, well.
Also, pity is that you can't have booze for some hours (5-6?) after giving blood.
Still, I'd reccommend you try it if you haven't, and if you qualify.
Bah. Time for more liquids with honey.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-16 07:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-17 01:01 am (UTC)One of the snails had a bug on it, a bug about 5/8" long with two curving spikes on its butt end like a two-tined fork. Now that, that doesn't really hold any appeal to me. I was kind of hoping it was eating the snail, though.