Weather Update and Dragons

 

 

Wood Dragon

The snow on the front steps has covered the Buddha statue up to its chin and today it’s snowing again and making a mess of the roads, Tomorrow it’s supposed to get warm and rain all day – that’ll make more of a mess.

Last night, we heard a banging on the kitchen porch, and when we turned the light on and looked out, there was a lovely opossum, all white, munching away at the birds’ mealy-worm block and suet chunks. It didn’t seem to care that we’d turned the light on; we watched for a half hour or so, then we got bored and the cats got over being freaked out and had wandered away, so we turned the light off and let the ‘possum continue its meal in peace. Another half hour gone by and it had disappeared.

This morning I was disappointed to discover that it hadn’t been back after the snow started so the only prints in the snow on the exposed part of the porch were birds’. But tonight, after looking up ‘possums and discovering that they rarely are ill and their mouths don’t harbor bad bacteria, and that they don’t hibernate and need to eat, I’ll put out for the ‘possum an old cat bowl with some of the cat food my furries rejected, and hope he finds it, and enjoys it. Maybe a carrot, too, though my carrot supply from summer’s harvest is getting low.

My pile of year-end paperwork is still 6 inches high; circumstances have kept me from it the last few days, but today I start again, and need to labor on until it’s finished. My mental climate is frustrated.

Yesterday, I voted in the primary. I was pretty much the only person wearing a mask in our small town hall; and I was followed around by an unmasked woman hacking her brains out. I didn’t turn around and punch her; which would have been a civic duty, under the circumstances. I can imagine who she voted for. My mental climate was stormy.

 

Several Weeks Later

Since I wrote that, I’ve managed to injure my foot and leg (all I’ll say is that a cat was involved) so I’m limping about and not sleeping well. But finally, the sun’s been out the last few days and it’s been warm, so my driveway is a very long sheet of ice. And that doesn’t help much as I limp and slip out to the garage.

The birds, or some critter, has eaten up their seed and mealy worm bar, and I’ve put out a second, which will probably be the last for this season. And I bought what might turn out to be way too many suet cakes, depending on what the weather gods decide to slam us with over the next few weeks.

My high pile of paperwork has been cut in half, which still leaves a pretty high pile of paperwork.  Some of it disappeared when I made the seed orders for the garden; another big chunk went away when I delivered tax stuff to the tax lady. And more has  been added, but at least I’m down to about 3 inches, now. It keeps going up and down like this winter’s snow levels, and is just about as discouraging.

However: one of my orchids just bloomed, and it has four more buds on it; and my freesias have put out a fragrant branch of flowers.  The Buddha on the front steps is snow-free to just below his shoulders. The little birds have finally discovered the one hanging feeder I put out, so the big birds don’t scare them away so regularly. I haven’t seen the ravens this year, but I do hear them, so I’m thinking it’s time to put out a raw egg (in its shell) and see what happens.  I’ve finally almost finished a list of all the books in the house, and I’ve done some deeper hoeing out of ones I know I’ll never read again – I bring a box o’ books to the Free Bench about once a month.  I still have 46 books on my “haven’t read yet” list, and I’ve read 74 that were on the list when I first made it last year. A few of those 74 went to friends and relatives for presents, or were passed on to patients with similar tastes, but most, and more, have gone to the Free Bench (and I’ve picked up a few from the Bench that others have left). I LOVE seeing the books disappear from the Free Bench! Powdered cardamom in coffee is delicious, and almost makes up for seasonally gone eggnog. And the little tablet The Husband gave me for Christmas has made it possible to listen to 10 books while I’m driving to and from the Upper Valley, thus avoiding the news and partially saving my mind.

Metal dragon - incense burner

 

 

 

 So the end of the Year of the vile and malicious Rabbit hasn’t been all bad.

Saturday is day 1 of the Lunar New Year of the Wood Dragon. With any luck, the Dragon will take over from the weather gods and instill some sense of order so we can actually have gardens this year.

And adventures – good adventures!

If only I could get some sleep…

 

 

 

For the blog: herondragonwrites.blogspot.com             8 February 2024

All photos Deb Marshall

Dragon painting on wooden purse by Tattia, Windsor VT

Window dragons

Just for a little context: Asian Dragons live in water, usually lakes, streams or wells, until they’re 1000 years old, at which point they grow wings and can fly. The ball you see carried by some Dragons indicates the dragon is male, and the ball is his Pearl of Wisdom. In ancient China, only the Imperial family could have dragons depicted with 5 toes; all others have 3 or 4 toes. There is a famous tea called Dragon Well tea (Long Jing Cha) which is grown near a well in which a dragon resides; it’s expensive and delicious. The Chinese also say that the Earth is a Dragon, traveling through space: mountains are its scales, trees are its hair or bristles, streams and rivers are its blood vessels.

Earth dragon

 

 In the Asian Lunar calendar, each lunar year is represented by one of 12 animals, and that animal’s characteristics will be dominant during its year. Last year was a Rabbit year; next year is a Snake year; this year, the Dragon year begins Feb 10 and ends Jan 28, 2025; the Snake begins on January 29, 2025 (Lunar years are based on the new moons). Each animal also has associated with it 5 elements. This year is the Wood Dragon; there are also Water, Fire, Earth, and Metal elements, and the element changes each time the animal comes up in its lunar year. The elements have characteristics that modulate the basic nature of each animal – as you can imagine, a Fire Dragon is going to be much more energetic and unpredictable than a Water Dragon, for example.

If you want to see a 5-toed Imperial Dragon, come into Suite 230 some day – WEAR A MASK – and take a  look at the dragons embroidered in gold thread on the man’s riding over-gown hanging on the far right wall in the waiting room. 

Old fart dragon - oops, The Husband!

 

 

 

 

Weather Report

 

It’s snowing. First real snow of the winter.  

The Lunar Rabbit is doing its best to rip up whatever’s left of my 2023 and early 2024 world, before it’s replaced by the Wood Dragon on February 10. Let’s hope the Dragon is kinder to us than the Rabbit has been, which seems to have grown fangs and long, sharp claws in its old age.

Inside the house, I’m cold. Our 35-year-old woodstove got leaky beyond repair, and the next to last day of 2023, I got up and announced that we were putting our lives, and those of our furries, at risk, and we would not be using the old woodstove any longer, and we would be going woodstove shopping that day. It’s been 35 years since I last bought a woodstove --- it was kind of a shock. What used to cost $500 now costs many thousands of dollars, and that’s for a simple one of about the same size as the old one. And the firebox is shorter, so The Husband has until January 17 – delivery day, weather gods willing – to cut all the logs down by 3 or 4 inches.

You remember: a woodstove will warm you up when you cut up the wood, when you split it, when you stack it, when you haul it in, and when you burn it. And, this year, also when you cut it up and stack it the second time.

In the meantime, we’re using the hot water baseboard heaters, fired by the gas furnace, and we’re not cranking the heat up much, because – money. Especially after buying a woodstove that costs as much as my first brand new car cost.. And the Chapel, where the plants live, including the bay tree and kafir lime tree, have a plug-in radiator on at night and my fingers crossed that they don’t freeze to death in the meantime.

Last last year, The Husband gave me, for Christmas, a polar fleece wrap that I’ve enjoyed a lot. Even in a woodstove-heated house, there are days and rooms in which you need some extra covers. I liked the thing so much, that this year I gave myself for Christmas a similar thing, but this one’s longer and has a hood and you can snap parts together to give yourself sleeves of a sort. I’ve used it a couple times, and sat outside wearing it on one of the warmish days in December.

So I should be warm enough until stove delivery day. As it happens, the Husband has a similar polar fleecy cover-up, as well.

But here I sit, dressed in flannel pants, leg warmers, a polar fleece turtleneck shirt, two sweaters, a scarf, wearing wool clogs and fingerless mitts so I can type with half-frozen hands and fingers stiff with cold and arthritis, with a body warmer attached to my undies for extra warmth on the back, looking longingly at my polar fleece soft fluffy cover-ups --- upon which the cats, who come with full-length whole-body fur coats, are hibernating.

They snuggle in during the day, on the dining room table, next to where I’m typing on my laptop. They snuggle in during the night. In fact, they rarely leave the nice soft pile of polar fleece warmth. If I steal the polar fleece back, one of the cats sits next to me and uses his claws to catch my hair and yank my head over close to his mouth so he can make quite clear his issues about his warm blankie having disappeared; and the other one sits on my keyboard.

 

Several days later: Outside, the weather is snowy, cold, and blowing, and inside, my brain is tempestuous. And no, I still haven’t gotten my polar fleece wraps back from the furries.

First of all the year-end paperwork is more complicated this year, for EIDL reasons and more. Also, two days after Christmas, I was informed by Social Security that I’d lost my “extra help” for prescriptions because, somehow, in 2022 we earned $2000 too much, and I had ‘til Jan 1 to find new insurance to fund Part D. If you count the days, that left me three work days to do it. And one of those days I couldn’t be home because I had a middle-of-day eye appointment 40 miles away.

I never had insurance prior to Medicaid, which then became Medicare with extra help when I turned 65. I have no idea what all these Parts are, how to choose a new insurance company – literally, I mean I don’t know how even to start – or what makes sense or doesn’t. I just know what I did: after noting that the old extra help insurance co. was going to cost me more money than I have in monthly payments and a huge deductible before they paid anything for me, I aimlessly wandered the internet and eventually, holding my nose, jumped in. I talked to an unknown insurance agent located, it turns out, in Ohio, and took her advice because there wasn’t time to think about it,  and now I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it wasn’t a mistake. And trying to let anyone who needs to know, know that they have to bill someone else – which turns out to be more complicated than I could have guessed, especially at the beginning of a new year. And I’ve noted that I need to be sure not to run into any moose on the way home from the office at night, because this new insurance plan won’t pay for the first six days in the hospital.

Secondly, the Husband’s insurance company got changed too, but not for the same reason, for reasons I don’t understand, but some of the same stuff has to be accomplished about this change.

Third, the F’ing FL assisted living place we moved my F’ing FL Friend into last March, unbeknown to us was being sold to an assisted living company out of TX, which took over – and things pretty much fell apart – during the summer. During the summer they sent out one of the worst pieces of trash I’ve ever encountered and called it a new contract, which they wanted us to sign. I sent 50 pages of NO back to them, going over their 80-page mess page by page and making extensive notes, corrections and commentary, which took me most of a week. The exiting Director sent it on to the Corporate people, along with my suggestion that for their next try they actually hire an actual lawyer to write the thing. I should have charged them for my time.

This week we got back their second attempt. It’s shorter, and they took a lot of my suggestions, but not enough of them. It’s still not something anyone in their right minds would actually sign. After I spent twelve hours reading and making notes and writing yet another 6 pages of detailed notes about what’s legally wrong with the 27 pages they sent – I didn’t include the spelling and punctuation and spacing errors this time, though I did point out that they had to use actual English words in a few places where they made some up - they finally sent the 2^nd half of the so-called contract this morning, so I have another 13 pages to critique today. It wasn’t signable without the second half, and the second half can’t, because of the nature of the problems in it, correct the fatal issues in the first half. But in order to save (their) time, I’m going to do it anyway, because it looks like I’ll have to eventually. Yes, I started out life as a paralegal, so I’m not just blowing hot air at them.

So – how much time do I have to waste on this before it would be cheaper and easier and actually safer, to move my FFF to another facility? The only eye-witness report I have about what’s going on down there once the original staff quit or were fired, before the new staff was hired - and they’re still making do with temporary med-techs - is from my FFF’s PCP, who says it’s a godawful mess. Not what one wants to hear about a facility where someone I’m partially responsible for is living.

One more day before the new woodstove arrives, weather gods willing.

One more day of long hours before I can send Cousin Paula my legal notes about the second half of the contract, and then she can put it together with my notes about the first half and send the FF Facility another NO. I told her it was ok to remove the part where I called this so-called contract a heap of steaming diarrhea from hell and the morons at Corporate as dumb as a kettle who needed to be slapped upside the head, and threatened to sic my flying monkeys on them.  Not sure they’ll get the point without my legally accurate, descriptive language, but they aren’t returning my emails at this point, so, whatever.

One more day before I can get back to my own 6-inch-high pile of paperwork that’s only partially started.

Twenty-four more days before the vile Lunar Rabbit gives way to the more fortunate (I hope) Lunar Dragon.

Three more months before spring.

Which reminds me – I’ve got to order seeds in the next couple of weeks, too.

 

For the blog: herondragonwrites.blogspot.com

Photos by Deb Marshall

 

 

Why?

 

Why?

Why, in this season when we try to engender peace on earth, and feel good will towards all men, as a new year is about to begin, and horrible things are happening around the world, would you purposely bait me with your abhorrent politics?

You did it on purpose. You knew the reaction it would cause.

Congratulations, you ruined my day. I’m furious, and I’m spending too many hours wondering why I bother even acknowledging you.

The one of you who delivered the poison in your “annual holiday letter” -which you delivered atop the Christmas gifts you dropped off at my house – was an especially aggressive touch that blows my mind. OK, so it wasn’t directed specifically at me but at everyone you sent that missive to.  I’m sure you feel it was a fine thing for you to do in the spirit of honest recording of your best moments this year. But you know what? I’m guessing if I were to respond honestly in kind, you wouldn’t be generous in your attitude about my thoughts and feelings. And you know how I feel about your politics, so why, why, why would you poison the gift-giving gesture by including that letter?

I know you have other relationships who feel as strongly as I do. In fact, you begin your letter advising us that you’ve blocked a number of friends on Facebook because you know you stand on opposite sides of the political divide, and you want to be able to stay friends even so. So why would you use this time of year to get in our faces? And why would you include a sentence that says “…for those who care to judge me…” – I was trying not to, until I read that challenge.

But since you sent an open invitation, here goes: Yes, I do judge you. Anyone who actively and proudly and loudly and publically supports a rapist, racist, lying, thieving, lazy, narcissistic, bullying, would-be fascist, insurrrectionist, misogynist, massive threat to our democracy who has made us a laughingstock internationally, who cozies up to dictators, who endangers the stability of the world, who is the author of the kinds of threats and hate speech and meanness that poisons our country, who divided us as a nation and amongst families and friends, in all likelihood beyond repair, who is evil and mean and nasty and proud of it and encourages his followers to threaten and carry out death threats and bodily harm on people who don’t agree with him – how can you not, after claiming that that person “resonates” with you – your words – not expect to be judged, by moral human beings, to be of the same lost and evil and horrifying type? What do you expect?

And how, after you’ve handed me this thing about you that I now can’t pretend I don’t know, do you expect me to be grateful for whatever else you’re handing me this holiday season, no matter how lovely it might otherwise be? And what, exactly, do you expect me to feel about the time I spent on the things I’ve wrapped, after careful consideration and hopes that you’ll enjoy them, that I’ve given to you?

It’s not just me; I know you’ve given this poisonous sheet to others who try to like you in spite of what we know about you, and who now, at your invitation, can’t help but judge you?

Why, why, why would you poison our experience like that?

In case you’re totally oblivious to your intentions and how we react to them – you just proved we judged you correctly. So keep it on Facebook – I don’t have to read it if it’s there.

The other one of you who has injected mean thoughts into my holiday attempt at peace did essentially the same thing, except it was a more personal attack. After the Covid years of your silence, when I told you we can’t talk about it since you were spouting nonsense at me about it, you sent a personal letter in your Christmas card to me. Until I read it, I was pleased to think maybe we still could connect, as we had in the past. In the letter, you told me about some fun things you did this year. But you headed the letter with a nasty comment about our current President, and a snarky comment about some inane conspiracy theory you say “the lefties” – you know I’m one – are supposedly plotting.

I’d like to write back to you to say how interesting your travels sounded. But what do I do about that first paragraph of yours? Do I ignore it? How? It was clearly put in there to get a reaction from me, and you knew when you did it that the reaction would be a bad one. So – if the letter was somehow meant as a gesture of friendship – you destroyed it. It became a gesture of meanness.

Why? Why did you think that was an OK thing to do? Oh, wait, I know the answer: because you are also a supporter of the Evil Far Right, and The Orange Ugliness has made it an act of courage, in your minds – in fact, he’s made it a blessed activity – to be abusive and nastily challenging to those of us who see him for what he is.

I thought you were better than that; we used to avoid politics or any discussion of them, because we knew we stood on opposite sides; and we had fun together. We were friends. We had other things in common. But now, I judge you to be the same as the other person, the one who delivered the poison Christmas letter. And I don’t want to be friends with someone who supports the horror show devil. I’m not sure you can give me a good reason why I shouldn’t care that you’re in accord with the Nightmare in Mar a Lago. When my father, now deceased, used to send me similar toxic political stuff because he enjoyed cranking me up, I called him an asshole. Want to guess what I’m calling you now?

By the way – I asked all the other lefties I know what conspiracy theory you were referring to – and not a one of them has a clue. So once again, a science fantasy invention from the Far, Insane Right; I kind of wish I could ask you what planet you’re on when you hear and believe this stuff, because it isn’t the same one I inhabit.

A friend just suggested that the best response might be that I write my own end-of-year holiday letter, and send it to a few carefully selected individuals.

Let’s call this a good start.

 

For the blog: herondragonwrites.blogspot.com

December 26, 2023