Thoughts

I've been watching Masterpiece Theater's "Around the World in 80 Days" with David Tennant. I like the show but not greatly - I had expected to be very enthusiastic about it but instead I feel torn. Tennant's character is... complex. Likable and yet not. Cowardly, in most cases, and overwhelmingly rude. In truth, probably right in the standard mode of a man of means from that time period. So many times I don't like him and other times he shines. Tennant's portrayal is brilliant but I want to like the character! And as an aside, Mr. Tennant is freaking skinny. He looks unhealthy. A strange thing to notice perhaps but there you have it.

I've been watching more stuff on my computer lately. In the evening I watch TV with my spouse, mostly to spend time with him (spending time doing something else isn't really in the cards except for grocery shopping) but that usually means watching Jeopardy at 1930 and then watching a recorded show or two - which he will doze or outright sleep through until I either get bored and leave the room or wake him up and see if I can get him to go to bed. Normally, I cannot, and I'll end up in bed myself with the doors shut to muffle the sound of the TV and his snoring or in front of my computer with headphones on, again, to muffle the sound of the TV and his snoring. He's going deaf so the TV plays pretty loud.

Aging while married is not for the weak.

(As an aside, he's 70 years old. That he's still getting up at 5 or 6 each morning and heading to work every day is remarkable. That he falls asleep sometime after eight each evening should be unremarkable.)

Well, I've binge-watched season one and two, and now instead of waiting forever for season three, I just bought the danged third book in the story arc. I have to laugh at myself - I have avoided watching any of the episodes of the Vikings on TV because the liberties the series takes with history and clothing drives me mad. And I have never re-watched The Movie Which Shall Not Be Mentioned since I am still haunted all these years later by memories of Mel Gibson's pastel blue "woad". And yet I dove into Bridgerton. And I am a Regency Romance reader.

I think I know why. It is quite different from actual history, so sufficiently enough to make it seem set in a different world rather than our earth. So a black Queen (and my gawd, in the show the actress is amazing!) and the half-observed rules of Society just make it "not Regency". Something like reading a steampunk novel. It is easy to suspend disbelief.

We spent three hours yesterday running from store to store looking at recliners. There are far too many of them you have to plug into a power outlet. Ugh. And way too many upholstered with fake leather. The last thing a person wants is to be sitting in a padded chair which is too hot three quarters of the year. So the search will continue. Father's Day is six weeks away so we're using that as a time-gauge as there will be sales coming up. Bossman says there is no hurry - the chair is perfectly comfortable when it is in the reclining position so he can baby it along until we find a good replacement.

We also visited a "mobility store" and I shall be renting an electric scooter to use during the SCA event held over Memorial Day weekend. With Bossman now an archer, I prefer to set up our sunshade near the archery range but that means that I am essentially stranded there since ranges are normally a long distance from the central part of an event. And I worry about being able to walk to the area where court would be held. This may solve that problem. This also motivates me to work on strengthening myself as I am not emotionally ready to resign myself to a scooter at SCA events and whenever I leave the house.

Oh! And there was a suggestion on a diabetic discussion list to slice radishes, spread them out on a pan and spritz them with oil, then sprinkle salt and bake the slices in the oven to make 'chips'. Apparently, they taste something like potato chips. I've bought a bag to try it out - if it works, that's cool. If not, well, I like raw radishes.

I have a friend, a white woman, who is currently deeply in love with a Black man who has gotten her interested in ancient Egyptian culture. She posts about her study of hieroglyphic writing (I've forgotten which style), which I envy her for, and sometimes raves about the "whitewashing of Egyptian culture". According to her and her beloved, all of ancient Egypt was populated by African Black peoples (I can't think of a better way to word that and I apologize) and none of the ancient population was Arabic or southern Mediterranean in physical type. I don't reply to her posts, for the most part, because I'd rather not get into an argument that is so heavily based in emotion about reclaiming Black pride of heritage, but I don't agree with her either. Certainly some of the population was Black, and some of the Royal families were. We have written records of that, especially of the saving of the culture by the Nubian Kings during the time of political instability preceding the twenty-fifth dynasty, which they took over and held for about 200 years. I think the people living in ancient Egypt were of a cosmopolitan mix and likely skin color was unimportant over all.

I just can't see it all being one blanket set of peoples who would then devote their art to depicting themselves with light skin and Arabic (there has got to be a better word for that) physical attributes. As we know, the common artistic trope has reddish-colored men and yellowish colored females - except for when "Nubians" are depicted when they are painted in black. Some written texts make explicit references to "Nubians" and their physicality as being different than common Egyptian norms.

I have never thought that their ancient culture nurtured prejudice about skin tone. None of the translated writing I've seen reflected any of that. So why would an entire civilization of people, over thousands of years of their history, depict themselves as physically being different than what they were? It makes no sense.

But to ask that is to spark a powder keg of anger from the modern people who espouse this "all Egyptians were Black until after Alexander the Great's invasion" view, and it is so very, very, important to those who see it that way. As a white (or as my friend now writes it "whyte") woman, I cannot see being able to engage her in discussion about the merits, or lack thereof, of her newly adopted view. So I remain silent. Especially since I am a white person and have my own prejudices to wrestle with. Maybe this is one of them in action. Perhaps this view has more academic merit than I am aware of. Perhaps someone has addressed the question I have about artistic norms. Perhaps I have missed some newer research about genomes or something. I don't know. But I feel disquieted about the theory and the danger of disputing it because of its emotional impact.

As I wander around the house a subject bubbles up that I think I should write about, but don't you know, by the time I get to my computer the thought is gone beyond recall and I'm back to whatever house stuff I need to do, or what folks are talking about on FaceBook (KM's newest pattern certainly has been taking up mind space). I hate that the good subjects just fade away. I end up writing about health-stuff like some old nursing home resident. bleech

I just re-started a home meal delivery service again. It isn't a weekly service (since I can tell it to skip any week or change the number of dishes delivered at any time) so for now about every two weeks we'll get a box of six ready to nuke meals that are different and tasty. Fresh, anyway. There had been few washouts when we were subscribed before. We kind of enjoyed the service last summer but I stopped using it out of price-guilt as the meals average out to about $12 each, which is much higher than what we normally spend. Still, I can select for low-carb menus and everything is already measured and the nutritional values set. I do appreciate that. I'm not much of a chef so it pleases me to have a chance to try "Chicken & Pumpkin Parmesan Risotto", "Slow-Cooked Red Wine Beef Brisket", or "Bistro French Onion Chicken" with a couple of sides for each. I'd likely be eating naked hot dogs for dinner on at least one of those nights if the meals weren't in our fridge. Or ordering from take-out or delivery, which is considerably more expensive. A meal delivery service where we have to do the cooking is Right Out as far as I am concerned. When I remember to eat I want it immediately, not 45 minutes and some labor later, so this "nuke them whenever" arrangement is perfect. Especially since I like pre-made salads I can buy at the grocery store too.

Now that we're entering back into the SCA in-person event routine I can find plenty of people who will appreciate the packaged freezer slabs that come in the meal delivery boxes. I like that the service uses earth-friendly packing material and recyclable everything. Well, I don't know if the little serving dishes are recyclable. I've never checked them for a number. I should do that. And I'll have plenty of ice packs to share since we still have three in our freezer. They are about the right size to fit flat in a 50-quart wheeled cooler so it makes getting things in and out of the coolers very easy. And they do last long enough for a weekend event. Or I can let them thaw, clip a corner of the package, and drain them into the sink and then recycle the packaging.

Today was one of those days... It started out nicely, as I'd gone two whole days with eight(ish) hours of sleep and woke up refreshed each morning. These instances are rare and I really enjoy those days. Bossman left the car at home so I had wheels for the day (I could take his truck any other time but I hate driving that behemoth. Except to and from camping trips when it is worth its weight in gold) so I did chores after breakfast and left the house after the three-hour window of time called "the lunch hour" so I could hit up the base pharmacy for my prescriptions and then run all sorts of errands, as the mood should strike.

Well. About that. There was a line waiting to enter the pharmacy. That was new. I spent 20 minutes in that line and then got in, did the computer check-in thingy which generates an assigned letter category & waiting number on a slip of paper. It is all sorted out; "E" patients are folks who are picking up new prescriptions, which is a two-step time wasting process, "C" people are there to get called-in renewals (those get taken care of very quickly), and "D" folks are active-duty personnel who have their own category for head of the line privileges. Ther are a couple other categories but those are rare. For this visit, I was an "E" patient. I had waited in the "E" line last week to drop off a paper copy of a new prescription and was told that it would be ready in three working days (that is normal), so returned today to get it and to "activate" a second script. That one had been sent electronically to the pharmacy but like all new ones would not be filled until I personally showed up and requested activation for it. And then I'd have to wait three business days before I could go back to get it*. Yes, this is a stupid system. So windows 1-3 are the first stop for any "E" person once their ticket number is called for the first time. There our ID is checked again, our ticket number confirmed, our age double-checked, and the prescription is confirmed to exist in the pharmacy's system and has been approved by the military medical insurance. When all of that is done, we go back into the waiting area before we can be called to one of the windows 5-7. (#4 is only for "D" paper holders). So my afternoon was:
Drive to the base and show my military ID card to the guard at the gate. Stick it in my shirt pocket because why bother putting it back in my wallet?
Wait 20 minutes for a parking space to clear.
Don a mask, grab my folding stool from the back of the car, and get in the outside line headed by a guard.
Show my ID and confirm that I have not travelled out of area or had/been exposed to any Covid risks.
Enter the pharmacy and stand in line to use the check-in computer.
Use the computer to scan my ID and sort my customer category, get the dreaded "E" slip, and find a place to set up my folding stool since all chairs were full.
Wait 58 minutes before being called to window #2. Go through all the confirmation steps and get sent back to the waiting area. (I've used my ID four times by now.)
Inside the building there is a jammer for phone signals but free (and intermittent) internet. There are just too many people using it.
I wished I had brought my book. Solitaire games on my phone were getting boring.
One hour and five minutes later my number was called for the second time.
Walked to window #5, showed my ID, confirmed my name and birthdate, got told that while my toothpaste prescription was in the computer, the actual tubes could not be found, and there was a problem with the second prescription as it was for "lotion" rather than "cream", which they should have caught at window #2, and as the lotion was not in the military system the clinic would have to send a new script. But hey! The clerk actually said she'd call the clinic and explain it to them and get a replacement prescription sent in. I got the impression that I was going to get the second prescription that day - weird but fabulous! So I waited at that window.
20 minutes later I walked out with both prescriptions after showing my slip of paper and ID card again and signing two signature pads.
Total time: 183 minutes.

Yes, three hours for a package of cream and some souped-up toothpaste. The process is the same for any medication. The good part is that there are no costs to me as a dependent of a retired military service person (that was in our military contracts back in the days when my spouse and I were active-duty.) No co-pay for prescriptions is a fabulous benefit when one is getting old and body parts don't work as well as they once did. But geez, did it blow my day. By the time I'd fought my way through the traffic to get off base (afternoon rush hour) and put gas in the car it was already time for an early dinner. Or in my case, for a late lunch. Which I bought via a drive through and brought home. Fish and chips for the win.

My husband worked a long day today and we got home at the same time, both of us frustrated with rude people we'd encountered in person or on the road. I think folks in the area went a little crazy because the weather was so very mild (65 degrees f) and sunny - everyone was out, it seemed, and yet in a self-focused bubble so just were not aware of who, or what, was near them. or in front of them. Or beside them. Or taking up the space they decided they needed to be in... I eschewed any further errands and came home to cower in safe solitude.

*And even more fun, the military pharmacy system only allows for 90 days' worth of any prescription, many of which will be dispensed in 30-day amounts, so you must call and activate a refill every month separately for each prescription. Every three months, your physician will have to send in a prescription for the same medications, which will then be "new", and you will have to do the E-category activate/wait three days/pick up thing all over again. The two months when we are "C" patients are golden. We're usually in and out in 15 minutes.

So how was your day?

Recently I posted one of those memes that circle around Facebook, "What is my SCA super power?". I knew that folks who didn't care for me wouldn't answer it (or were unlikely to) but a surprising selection of current and far-away friends did with kind responses and then one person replied with this,

"Without cursing or raising your voice, you can make someone feel really bad for fucking up.
Also your arts and crafts ability are God-tier."

And doncha know it, that is the only answer sticking with me. I know that the danger of posting such a thing is that you may get a negative response but this one - this one winded me. It was from a (recent)ex-protégée who I went to bat for over and over, and worked with a lot in helping her learn social skills (and taught her how to cook medieval and camp foods, to camp SCA-style, to sew, to draft patterns... you know, stuff) and after nearly a decade of association, this is her view of my "super power". That I am good at being mean. Which tells me how much I failed her. And that is what hurts. I failed her.

Logically, I know that is a one-sided view. She has recently gained a lot of self assurance and pride again, and is now married and happily forging her own path, and I'm proud of her. I'm also relieved, because it was difficult to watch her insult people, or misunderstand what they were saying and then react viciously to them, or some of the other things she was prone to do that I now longer am obligated to help her clean up. No more "teaching moments" or conversations. Apparently what I saw as me helping her to see how other people would feel (like, "why it is not a good idea to steal the King's crown during an event and try to understand how this was a giant mistake, and it is natural that TRMs are angry") was me being mean.

Huh. In typing this out I stopped feeling guilty and flipped to relief that isn't my job anymore. Okay then!

There's this guy... we've known him for over 20 years and he's been a member of our small SCA household (not the Great Dark Horde) all that time. He's not the sharpest tool in the box. And he's a lonely person. We usually ask him over for holidays and he's kind of adopted as a member of our family.

And he drives me crazy. He's paternalistic towards women and children but his intellectual capacity is limited so we end up with a (well, um, hate to put it this way but I don't know a more polite way to put it) stupid person imparting "wisdom" to us, usually something we already knew and would consider patently obvious. Sometimes it is something we (I) had painstakingly explained or taught to him. I've tried various methods of response when it gets overwhelming since it is normally aimed in my direction, to limited effect but usually all I achieve is hurting his feelings and shutting him down for the rest of the evening. So I bite my tongue a lot. I know he's trying to contribute to the conversation, trying to fit in. But his method of communicating is using rambling but vague roundabout statements which require effort to unravel before we can figure out what he is talking about, often ending up being a subject that has nothing to do with the topic of conversation at all as he's latched onto a word someone said and it led him into a totally different field of thought. Like, we could be talking about plane travel and the hassle and difficulties with dealing with pre-flight screening and suddenly he's interrupted a speaker to natter on about silk and the ease of dyeing it compared to other fabrics (which will include several incorrect statements to illustrate his point) and when asked what the hell he's talking about now that he's shut down the current conversation he'll explain that that dyeing silk is important for hot balloon manufacturing because it makes the balloons more visible while airborne. And then we all just stare at him while we try to work out his logic train or consider correcting any of the errors he'd made in his "teaching moment" we'd just heard.

He and his roomie came over to usher in the New Year last night and we picked the two of them up for breakfast today. And now I'm here, on my computer, venting my frustration because I hit the tolerance limit for his inane conversation last night and yet subjected myself to it again this morning (he cannot stand silence so he indulges in stream of consciousness babbling whenever conversation lags so there is never a chance to mentally regroup.)

I end up wanting to yell at him. I end up wanting to avoid being anywhere near him. I end up feeling guilty about feeling that way when he's a good-hearted man who is trying to go through life with a severe disadvantage and is only doing the best he can. And again, I wonder if I can even consider myself his friend when I most often want to shove a dishcloth in his mouth and tie it there.

Christmas Day. We both woke up early and are lazing about waiting for an appropriate time to open our stockings. Both of us are feeling like we could go back to bed - but doubt that we'd actually fall asleep - so he's reading a book and I'm fusting around on my new (early Christmas present) computer. I did make him open one gift this morning though, so he has his new house slippers on. He likes shoe-like slippers that cup your heel while I like slide ons. Last hear I got him mules and he hates them but has been dealing with it all year. I wasn't so good. He got me ones that were shoe-like and I only wore them twice before I stuck them in our donation bag. I've been wearing my old slippers for about three years now. The poor things are looking a bit scruffy! Since I rarely leave the house they've been worn each and every day all that time. I wonder if I'll get a new pair today.

I have developed a bit of a fear about our plans to retire to the Las Vegas area. We are both politically moderate, which nowadays seems to mean that we're both viewed as Liberals. The Vegas area is very red, and with the split becoming more and more violent I worry that we'll be leaping into a bad situation since we'll be in the minority. Where we live now is pretty blue. Or maybe I should say "pretty mixed but leaning more liberal than conservative". I don't really want to live someplace where a tree-hugger or a Black Lives Matter sticker on our car may get us shot. And yeah, I think that concern is growing more possible daily.

I have to give up on building my Lego Winter Village, maybe for the whole year. I finally noticed on the calendar that I have three weeks to draft patterns for and put together two deels for us and two undertunics for a friend. I don't work quickly anymore so I'm feeling the pressure already. I also want to make decorated cookies and maybe candied nuts to give as Twelfth night gifts and that is looking a little iffy too. The nuts popped up because of a youtube recipe I stumbled over and remembered how much they were loved locally when a past Baroness used to give them out as 12thNight gifts. Those little packages were hotly defended. She hasn't been in the SCA for about twenty years now and the memory is likely faint for local folks but I bet if I made some it'd still come close to getting the same reception. And thank goodness making a batch of those is a one-evening sort of project. My decorated cookies take a couple of days to ice.

The supplier for my Dexcom unit contacted me last week and I'll be getting the initial package next week. I expect that intense YouTube viewing and googling will take place while I learn how to set it up to communicate with my phone. I did not succeed with the Freestyle app (but then, the freestyle monitor thingy was really off) but I've read good reviews about the Dexcom. And a young girl who is type 1 diabetic has been using hers for a few years with no problems. If she can do it, I can do it, right?

Our youngest just told us that he and his household have contracted Covid. Thankfully he's vaxxed and boosted so his bout is pretty mild. Just an overnight fever and some coughing. His sweetheart is not vaccinated (this does not surprise me) so she is suffering. She's still at home though, so it's not as bad as it could be.

We had a friend come and visit on Tuesday from out of state. I haven't seen her for over ten years. She'd been a neighbor when we moved into this house - living with a boyfriend when we met, then married to him, then a mother of a son and daughter. And then the marriage went south and the husband (I swear) lost his ever-living marbles and for the safety of her kids she moved out of state and then (after he threatened her with a rifle in front of them) as far out of reach as she could. The kids were 6 and 4 when she moved. They are in their 20s now, one married and the mother of two children and the other in a committed relationship. They are both doing well. And my friend is remarried, to the first guy she dated after the breakup of her that marriage. They are so cute together. We caught up on a lot of history and I think would still be at it if we hadn't yabbered until after midnight while her mom was waiting for her to join her at their hotel. Oopps.

I watched a "how to" video about making hanging Tomte for decorations (sort of tree-sized hangings) and decided I was going to give it a shot. So I've got the pieces all set up on our table and now have no real desire to finish the project. I had no idea they had flooded the market and people are tired of the cute little things until another friend complained about them on Facebook. And my project is going to produce about 30. I thought I was going to give some away for SCA 12thNight but now I don't really know what I am going to do with them. Oh well, the project was on my "To Do" list and at least I will be able to cross it off. Maybe I can talk my husband into taking some to work and leaving them (anonymously) in his coworker's work spaces, for those he thinks may like them since he declined to pull out some holiday cards for anyone this year (they are not all in the office on the same days right now thanks to Covid.) And we've got a friend heading for a family Christmas celebration with his siblings who are all in their 50s and 60s, and the family is American-Scandinavian. Maybe he'd like to take a few to them.