Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Gary dream

Following a long fallow period that lasted through the pandemic, Gary has had a notable dream. Sadly, it isn’t the recurring Big House Dream, but it is a recurring dream.

He is in grade school, playing cards with a childhood friend, Dave. Dave’s mom allows a homeless man accompanied by A DEER (Gary?) to live in a collapsed hole in her garage.

This homeless man is old (Gary ...) and covered in red, bloody sores (Gary!).

Young Gary sneaks into the garage to peek at Old Bleeding Spotted Gary, and the building collapses, killing all but the deer, which escapes.

It saddens me to think Gary either wants to die in a home collapse or fears dying in a home collapse. 

TWIL: Rats are fun pets

Rats (not mice, mice are evil) can do amazing tricks. They come when called, and stand up and spin and walk on their hind legs, and many more things.

(I kind of get the feeling they don't do those things unless they see the treats in your hand.) 

 

The return of the mouse detective

The Mouse Detective returned to see how many traps had been sprung in the corner of the basement. Three sprung traps. One dead mouse. 

I told her they must be coming in through the garage as she surmised.

"More probably from the outside," she said. "See the breeze?" and she pointed at a  nearby cobweb. It was gently fluttering. She said, "That's coming from there," and pointed at the suspicious corner of the basement. "That's where they're getting in."

I told Mouse Detective she needed her own network series.

Another Round of PT

I have hurt my right rotator cuff three times.

• I was in the driver's seat and tried to pick up a heavy bag from the rear passenger side. The doctor prescribed rest and it was soon resolved.
• I did the same dumb move, rested as before, kept resting, until my shoulder froze, and then I had to have my arm muscle repeatedly torn from September to November of 2012.
• Most recently I was putting something in a corner kitchen drawer, and I wanted to get in the dishwasher. In a vain attempt at efficiency, instead of pivoting to face the dishwasher door, I pulled it open from the side. This time it isn't torn, though, just "impinged."

In addition to giving me shoulder advice, the new physical therapist lady corrected my work posture. I've been slouching and not putting all my weight on my "sit bones". I know of my sit bones because they are tethered to my pelvic floor, which has taken up far too much of my attention of late. 

She guided me into the correct posture. "Put your shoulders back so they are above your hips. Now try to pinch your shoulder blades together."

Take a moment. Do that. Do you feel that you are presenting your breasts like you are an animal about to mate? I did.

She added, "Now arch your back, slightly."

"Okay, seriously, do you want me to put a finger in my mouth at the same time? I can't do this on a Zoom call."

"I know, it feels odd. Now tuck in your chin."

She did say that I wouldn't be able to maintain that posture permanently, but I should try it intermittently. So now I sit boobs out, back arched, chin doubled. I think I look like a preening goose suppressing a burp. 

Oh, and she gave me exercises to do on my own that hurt like I'm tearing my own arm off. I am inclined to never open the dishwasher again.

Eternal Weekly Paint Progress: 12/5

This week Granceil went from this:

... to this.

 

That's closer to the goal, which was this.

I give up. No more portraits. Unless someday I return to Granceil and start over entirely. And as is my wont, my next thing will be easy: drapery and croquet balls in primary colors or something.

Later: I’m adjusting the mouth tilt but I’m not inflicting it on you all.

Even later: it would be fine but I lost the 20 degree tilt to her head.  So it will never end.

The Actual Moon Phenomenon Earthshine Captured

(Hey, if you are in a feed-reader you might want to click through and visit yesterday's post and comments and see how I was actually duped by the internet into buying the wrong bra. Then read the wholesome post below.)

==========

Well, by some amazing chance I thought about sunset and moonset at just the right moment, and I did get to see the Old moon in the New moon's arms at 6:28 yesterday evening, just as the sky was pinkening. 

Of course it required the binoculars to reduce the glare of the crescent, but it was pretty cool. I guess I could have been looking at some pink peripheral sunlight instead of earthshine, but I saw the dim disc of the earth's shadow, then I saw the topography of the craters on the edge of the illuminated crescent. 

Gary would have seen it too, but he took so long putting on his shoes and coat just to go out in the garage that the moon was behind the trees by then. 

I would be mad, but I've already set an Alexa reminder for 28 days from now.

UPDATE: Not a Knix bra, but a fraud! Review: Knix Bra

I should have checked the URL and gone via the web site, not a search. This bra below was a cheap knockoff. More in comments. Trying again!

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A while back, AH mentioned the Knix bra in the comments.

I regret to say the Knix bra did not work for me. Sounded good: front closure, no wires, supportive. Sadly, the cons outweighed the pros.

Problem 1: Material

The lacy cups are right out of a standard bra, but the rest is a seamless band of silky yet rubbery elastic. Back, straps, cup connectors in one unending loop. It's like if a colony of silkworms put their butts together and spun out a bra-cup holster. I don't know how to say it other than the crepe felt creepy to me. This is subjective. Other people might say the lack of hems, selvages, seams feels elegant. 

Problem 2: Size

I recognize that all my muscle is now fat. I've been this weight before, but pants that zipped up snugly in the past then can't get past my thighs now. I didn't think that there would be a muscle/fat conversion issue with the bra, because as the mammogram report tells me, my breasts have been entirely fat for years. I'm up to size 2x in clothes, but evidently I have maxed out the Knix size chart at size 5x. 

Problem 3: Putting it on

This is sad, because it has a front closure, so the ease in putting it on is the big selling point.

• Attempt 1. I unhooked the front closure and put my arms in the straps. I thought the cups would dangle but instead they cupped the spine side of my shoulder blades. I tried to reach behind to grasp the cups but I couldn't get there, plus I didn't want to further aggravate my rotator cuff.
• Attempt 2. I closed it in front at my waist and then tried to put my arms in the straps. I couldn't even find the straps. 
• Attempt 3. I closed it entirely and put it on over my head. It did indeed give me some support but it was too much horizontal too little vertical. You need a balance.

So, oddly I am keeping it. I'm not wearing it, but perhaps when the rotator cuffs heals I will try stretching it out and give it another shot.

 

Curtains

The tab-top living room curtains were stretched and dated, the curtains in Gary's bedroom tore, and after thirty years the linen curtains in the kitchen disintegrated like a vampire in the sun.

I feel like the young version of me would have bought three new sets of curtains. Well, six new sets, because I would not have measured accurately. 

Happily, there were brand new replacement living room curtains in a box in the basement waiting for Gary's "dust allergies" to settle down. So only two new sets of curtains to buy, right?

No. After I put up the new  living room curtains (it's not the dust, fella), I took  the four old panels of living room curtains, ironed them, cut them, and shortened two of the panels into new curtains for Gary's bedroom and changed two for the kitchen. And then I took the scraps and made a green velvet gown with good braid tiebacks at the waist and play-clothes for the seven children I am governess to.

And why? I can measure now, I can wait, I have Amazon. It would have taken far less time to order them. It took an hour and a half to cut, iron, and sew it all. And I'm not short on money. And I'd like to say that I wanted to reuse and recycle, but nothing else in my life is evidence of that.

I suppose I am old. It seems to be a very Grandma move.

TWIL: Earthshine

In addition to sunshine and moonshine, there is earthshine. 

If you are looking for a partial moon during the day (even without binoculars), if the moon is in the sky, far enough away from the sun that you aren’t blinded, and is in the right phase, you can supposedly see the part of the moon that is illuminated by the sun, but instead of the rest of the moon being black because of the shadow the earth casts, you see earthshine, because the sunlight reflecting off the earth illuminates the shadow a little.

I heard recently that a poet called it "the old moon in the new moons arms," or something like that.

Go here for a photo, and a little smile that NASA wants you to know that this may not be the most up-to-date moon-earth-sun science.

Mouse Detective

A few weeks ago the Rottler exterminator came out to do the maintenance for our plan, and she was very personable, so I mentioned that we seemed to have mice. I knew this because:

• Intermittent mouse poop in basement
• Noisy mice in walls
• Goldie caught three mice in the basement

The woman set out an outdoor trap and came back a few weeks later.

It was a joy to watch her work. She was on the case. You could see the deductive reasoning at play. I thought I had worked out some things, but I don't know the ways of the rodents.

For example, I thought I had figured out where the mice were coming in: the external dryer vent. Just a short jaunt under the laundry room floorboards, and then drop down through the insulation to the basement, have a poop on top of the storage shelves, pee on the dead cat's stuff.  

She looked at the same setup and said, "You know, I see that you feed the wildlife. Where do you store the food?"

"In the garage, but it's in heavy bags. Gary once found a tiny hole but it was only big enough to get out one half of one nut."

"Let me see."

She walked out to the garage, and went immediately to the corner that abuts the laundry room, the same spot in the garage where we hade once found a hole twenty five years earlier. I remember because we moved a big storage unit to block the hole. That strategy must have been effective, because she moved the unit and found a different hole. And a lot of debris, including peanut shells. She stuffed the hole with steel wool from her own supply. (We had bought our own to use when we found the hole ourselves, hahaha, as if.)

While she was setting traps I said, "So, I'll see dead mice in the traps, and we won't hear the mice in the walls."

"If you can hear it dollars to donuts that's squirrels. I noticed you have a tree limb that touches your house. Squirrels are just walking around up there trying to get in to your soffit and gnawing on the metal gutter."

It was truly satisfying, because I felt like Gary and I were almost there, but then she came in like a forensic psychologist and knew the mouse and squirrel motivations.

Time to saw back the tree limb and put the peanuts in bins, I guess. Feel a little pity for the mice and squirrels.

Looks like I picked the wrong millennia to try to write a book

I hate AI.

It's going to do to writing what photography did to art. 

UPDATE; Weekly Paint Progress: 11/28

This week Granceil went from this:

.... to this

when she was originally this.

But then I worked some more and now I'm stopping.

New Dentist Technology

My space-age high technology dentist has yet another device.

The hygienist said, “We have a new, less invasive way to clean your teeth called ‘Airflow’. It’s really good at getting below your gums.”

“Awesome,” I said.

Then she said, she would protect my face with a dental dam, then paint my teeth with a purple substance, the blast it off with water and grains of sugar alcohol.

“Wait, what,” I said. “You’re going to make my teeth purple and blast them with Splenda?”

And that's what she did. “This is great,” I thought. “No more metal scrapey hook thing.”

But no. After the process I got the scrapey hook thing anyway. But maybe if I use this new toothbrush vigilantly there will be less scraping next time. 

Okay. How purple, you ask. Barney purple.

And does it taste like Splenda? Yes, the little bit that mixed with my spit did.

Hardest thing I have ever done

During the last sixteen years, if you had asked me "what is the hardest thing you have ever gone through," I would have said,  "Mom's hospice."

That changed this year. Now I would say, "Gary's rash." And I know that sounds ridiculous, but here's the difference: Mom didn't lie to herself. She believed her doctors. And ultimately Mom acted in her own interest. 

Gary, on the other hand, trusted his doctor at first, but now has locked himself into a bunker of self-delusion and thinks the doctor is against him. (I can't tell you how often I have asked him, "The doctor said those actual words?" only to hear that no, the doctor said "some nonsense meant to scare me.") He's so determined to be right that he is not looking out for himself.

Why? I mean, the easy answer is that he's a cranky seventy-year-old man, and he doesn't like someone else knowing more than he does. But in my heart I worry he's like Mom and he wants the universe to know that he will leave when he feels like it.