Some of this narrative was introduced in my previous post, about Food Markers, but this ramble here is a kind of variation on the theme, from a different angle.
This 2017 working trip has been fraught with dramatic ups and downs, and here’s my as-brief-as-possible review of the Grand Experience, months afterwards. Beware, ye grammar-sticklers, I do move rapidly between tenses, because I am unfolding the unfolding as I am experiencing it, in the now, in the then, and in the next. And that, too, is my Autistic Bunny Authentic Experience-ing. Continue reading →
I spent the last few nights and days in this sofa, positioned right next to the loo. For safety, because I nearly fell down the winding stairs connecting to the loft bed. And for convenience, in case I had to throw up. A good thing I am short, but still, I have not laid down properly in a bed, stretched out, for this entire time. Continue reading →
Brunch for two! – soggy fries, fresh salad, and chicken wings!
Fancy macaroons! – Lucy approves, of course.
Mumma, why can’t I have any chocolate? Momma says, chocolate is bad for doggies, so you may have a green lipped mussel treat instead!
The Molton Brown box.
Someone I was close to in my former life used to say that it is most important to engage in ‘networking’ – gathering around oneself a collection of useful people with talents and abilities that can render practical support, as well as appear ‘socially appropriate.’ Well, despite her having spoken with such disdain about my little motley collection of friends, comparing them most unfavorably next to her own ‘network’ of wealthy so-and-so types, she has now resorted to ingratiating herself with my eclectic, ‘socially inappropriate’ lot, after I walked away from the entire scene. I guess one such as her can never have too many willing hands to hold, ready ears to listen, and practical services to offer. That’s fine by me, really, if she is in such dire need for attention and affirmation, and if my (former) friends are unable to see the wood from the trees, she deserves them and they her.
The Butcher Box has arrived! I am overwhelmed, but Lucy is pleased.
Beef bone broth.
Cutting up the ribs for dehydratiing
Doggy biscuits. Beef bone broth. Dehydrated ribs. Freezer choking full of meaty delight. Senses overwhelmed. Body disintegrating. Collapsing in a wobbly heap on the floor, no tears, just dazed and faint. Fading, melting, leaking slowly down the sinkhole of executive duties, into the abyss of mocking dysfunction. Continue reading →
Dark eye circles. Deep crevices under droopy eyes, squinting from exhaustion and lack of sleep. Jaws clamped so tightly the head throbs from the pain. Beside me, my Angel tosses. She sighs loudly and shudders. It is not cold. She whimpers and shakes in her dreams every night these days. She never used to do so this often. She licks herself far too much these days, she licks the sheets in her sleep. Lick, lick, lick. We are both weary under the constant sensory assault of noise. Noise along the corridor. Noise emanating from the rooms. Sudden explosions from slamming doors which rattle and shake everything inside our little abode. Shrieking, screaming, laughing. Loud music. Even as I type right now, there is cackling piercing the air, coming at us through the flimsy building materials that merely visually separate our private space from the public cacophony. Continue reading →
Crispy noodles – leftovers from last night’s dinner.
Cream of mushroom and celery with feta cheese bits.
Sleeping Angel of Calm and Comfort
Chromatic aberration of a different dimension. Multiple X-rays in the morning. Then the Rheumatology clinic. Throbbing headache – was it the radiation or the combined sensory assault of the strange environment, sonically and visually disturbing whirring machines, flourescent light and gasping for fresh air in the stuffy waiting rooms? Maybe it was the $500 total bill?
Lucy – my only one constant. Calm. Tranquil. Trusting. Faithful. Warm vanilla. Sleek black silken velvet. Beautiful serene elegance. Deep amber eyes. My sensorial oasis in the dry, crackling, electrostatic riddled desert highway. There she was, lying in the corner by the chair, in the waiting room, in the imaging room, in the rheumatologist’s consultation room, wherever I was, there she would be. Continue reading →