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There are a lot of things I could be writing about, and this would be a post on starting a menu for the housewarming except that I've been... inspired, I guess. I've had some recent experiences, and read a poem on greatpoets this morning, and I feel called to perhaps echo a post I made quite some time ago but don't want to dig out right now.

Lately-- last couple of years, last couple of months --I've been playing with and learning about my body's capability for lust. It's not something I come to easily, so to speak, because in my experience lust involves slipping the body off its leash, or perhaps letting it pull the rest of me along. Lust is a pull entirely physical, a sexual demand, and let's face it: for me sex is bound up in some pretty strange stuff. For me to surrender to my lust enough to even know what precisely I want, let alone to know how to get it, I have to feel really safe. I don't mean safe as in soft-blankets padded-room safe; I mean I need to feel like if there are other people involved they won't freak out, they won't be broken, and they can handle what comes up or call a stop to it if they can't handle it.

I wonder if that hasn't been part of my ongoing attraction to people who are jerks, who keep me at arm's length, who have egos beside which I am a mere shadow, who are emotionally distant or unavailable... at least at first, or at least until I become so trustworthy and available and giving that they let down their defenses. Hm. I wonder if that explains some of my rotating-door syndrome? We already know I like breaking through shells. There are beautiful things inside. I suppose, though, that in a lot of way those shells make me feel safer.

Now I feel like a jerk, but I will persevere (I typoed that as 'perseverse' which is awesome) because I really wanted to nail this desire thing.

Lust is about me. It's about what my body wants, what I want. It's active, it's about an end.

Desire is about another person. It's about immersing myself in them, surrounding myself, it's about experiencing them as deeply and fully as possible. It's a loss of self, if you like, submersion in the other. A conversation can slake desire; you know those long winding conversations that lead down deep surprising paths and cement immovable intimacies in your soul and then leave you in a quiet safe place together as if two worlds hadn't just shifted? Touch does it; taste, sight, no other person can stand in, can satisfy that specific craving that is desire for another.

Now most of my experiences involve some aspect of both of these, and I would write more about it, but I'm a little shaken by my jerk epiphany up there and I can't concentrate. Furthermore Angus is having his second bad day in a row, and although he's not in the room I can feel the pain radiating from him. He's rarely cried openly and loudly outright when he hurts in the last several months; things have been perhaps not so bad too. He's not crying now. Still, you become attuned to a person and that little catch of breath, the smell of their body, the way their eyes move, the type of sounds that come through the wall when they shift position-- it's really hard for him right now.

It's really hard for me, generally. Going into this I was so idealistic, naive, I had never done this. The things I thought would be hard (there, it's eased up, he just came past and smiled at me) like him being in pain-- well, when he's hurting really badly I can deal with that. He wants to be held or left alone or go out and smoke, it's something I can do.

It's harder not being able to do things together sometimes.

It's hardest not being able to read whether he's unhappy with me or just hurting. I often read his signals-- hunching away, or a clenched jaw-- as his being angry or feeling beat down because of something I've done or some interaction we've had. If I ask him-- hey, what's up-- sometimes that helps clarify, but the truth is that I spend a lot of time with someone my gut and my subconscious read as displeased with me a fair chunk of the time. It comes and goes in waves. It's not bad lately.

Also hard is some stuff where some of our stuff interacts in such a way that it's difficult to sleep closely cuddled together. He night sweats when he's really sick; when he's really sick especially, my dermatographia/whatever it is totally freaks out when I come into contact with that sweat, even through an allergy pill or two.

And I never knew just how much time being sick took. I'm a really busy person, and I schedule and plan things to within an inch of my life. I try to schedule and plan other people in as part of this, so I know how I can and cannot rely on them. Angus has a huge swinging block of ;he may feel great and be productive, he may be sick and stuck in the bathroom all day' in which case I need to take up some slack. Don't get me wrong, he pushes through more than I could -- he's had practice -- but sometimes he can't. And sometimes he doesn't engage the discipline to do things when he's well-- perhaps because he spends so much time pushing himself when he's sick?

I dunno. This has been totally hijacked. As if to disprove any points I've made, he's doing dishes and smiling and being loving now. Maybe that is the point, though: the thing is unpredictable. Neither of us know whether he will be worse or better in an hour, a day, a year, in ten years or forty.

I can't cure him. I can't even make him go to doctors, try new treatments, go for different tests when the last set comes back negative. I can't make him take pills on time. All of that is his, with me waving a pom pom in the back when I can and calling out in a thin voice from the distance.

And in this context desire is a strange beast. His body is becoming his enemy, if it isn't already. There is always some degree of pain, more or less. There are areas-- stomach, ass --to be avoided except by the gentlest occasional touch, perhaps forever, when my hands wish to taste the skin there. And when desire for him surges up-- him, him, only him-- he might well be buried, not only absent from his body but left emotionally tattered by just coping.

I suppose everyone has complications like this to some degree or other: I come home, I cannot take my head out of work, I'm short and snappish and go straight to the computer and stare through it for an hour. I am working this weekend and volunteering next and out of the country the one after and have no days off in-between. I have not had time to sleep and am floating in a haze all week, somewhere else entirely. I suppose everyone has barriers.

I didn't grow up with a normal family, with a normal relationship between my parents, and I seldom went to see how other peoples' families interacted. There was always a locked door between mom and dad when they were in the house for six months of the marriage once and I didn't even notice. I don't know what's normal; I don't know what's acceptable; I don't know what's tolerable. I know mileage varies per person anyhow.

I don't know where I'm going with this. Something about my Writer, though, about how those barriers are different, clearer, not entangled up with coming home from work and emotional support and the whimsy of an unpredictable illness. Something about how when I bury my face in his hair the world recedes, and how that has stayed simple so far, and how I always go looking for complications and so I drag my guilt behind me like a bloody mangled piece of my own soul sometimes, and other times I can leave it alone.

It's late. I'm tired. Someone made me dinner and did the dishes and I'm doing something that sounds a lot like complaining. I need to sleep, I need rest so badly. I need to surrender up my ability to affect the world for eight hours or so-- more than four or five, at least. I need to let bed happen to me.

Ha. Talk about rambling. Talk about incoherent. It's definitely bedtime. Be well, y'all, and remember I'm not really unhappy-- I just need to rest, and then engage with the lovely challenge of coming up with five or six or seven tasty vegan wheat-free dishes for my housewarming that can feed a horde, that will be cheap, that will be super tasty, that don't need a table to eat at, and that won't use up all the dishes in the house to feed people. I fully expect to have a brilliant stroke of genius about a way to serve quinoa tabouleh salad, to plagarize mimi's bean dip, to come up with a brilliant riff on pizza, to go through some sort of inspired root veggie thing, to do marinated mushrooms come hell or high water, to do something involving our lovely-textured friend the avacado and maybe his sidekick the mango (sushi? booooring...?) and to do something involving risotto and/or that amazing wild-rice-pecan-maple-orange-stuffed squash I did at Avi's thanksgiving. I wonder if I can figure out a tofu recipe that actually tastes like heaven?

I can *so* do this.

And then there'll be desserts. I wonder how I can serve fried bananas in a non-messy way. Corn tortillas? Hmmm. And some kind of sugar cookie. And... and... and...

This post is gonna have the weirdest tags ever.

Y'know, I really like cooking for people.
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Time is supposed to keep things from happening all at once.  Please, I would like it to continue to work.  I no longer want to be upset about things before they have happened.  I should not feel them approaching from the future like some sort of ominous wall.  I no longer want to cry about people before the things that hurt me happen; I would prefer to feel upset afterwards, like a normal person.

Additionally, what's this thing about coincidences?  If three time's the charm, I don't wanna see what the third thing I get cancelled on is.

PS Thanks for sending me a shoulder to cry on that doesn't hit on me, and returning an old one.  It's really appreciated.

Edge

Apr. 6th, 2010 08:11 pm
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Two days ago I wrote that I was coming to the end of my strength. Now I am beyond it. Any hope of grace, strength, empathy, power, or ability that I could muster then is now lost. It's all I can do not to start screaming in public or throwing things near me as far as possible to get them away. Acknowledge my dark side? Right now I am nothing but. We'll see how this plays out when I walk in the door.

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Today I just felt lacerated by the end of work. It wasn't work; I have an easy job and a wonderful boss who's reminding me of the ropes. It wasn't an immediate stressor; the house showing happened last night and we cleaned the place up for it in time, no problem. I have been consistently putting my foot in my mouth, being bitchy and grouchy and generally annoying to be around, I haven't been able to focus, and-- oh wait, my period is a day or two late. This is well within the range of things that have happened before. This is what happens when my body gets interested in someone and decides it's time to hold onto my proto-placenta and keep pumping out eggs till something clicks.

Sigh.

Ovulation is not my favourite thing. It's a lot of fun, but it's extremely difficult to calm down and think clearly during it. My priorities get totally weirded around. I can barely follow a sentence from beginning to end, let alone form one. Everything is either incredibly wonderful or unendurably irritating.

And in the midst of this, I am moving. In. With Angus. And my storage box. And consolidating stuff. And starting a new job. And seeing a new boy, which is likely the CAUSE of this but still makes things very complicated.

And to make matters worse, my poly guilt alarm is beyond hair-trigger right now. Well, everything is beyond hair-trigger right now, and awfully ridiculous and irrational.

Oh my gods. Even I'm sick of myself. Thinking about writing calmed me down; I have to observe and categorize my feelings to write about them, and that's useful. Hearing myself go on and on about this stuff is damned annoying. It's time to tag this post and then shoot it.

+ and -

Oct. 6th, 2009 05:41 pm
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+ rats
+ bike
+ SOUL meeting
+ brother meeting + new mexican restaurant on the drive rocks + is everything-friendly and bike-transported
+ employer pursuing me

- emptying diva cup in porta-potty with no soap or sink nearby
- 2.5 hr commute/day - with that and bus pass $ I could drop my wage substantially and come out ahead to work locally
- lonely
- not enough rat babies
- no time to finish cooking chicken noodle soup
greenstorm: (Default)
I took these just for you.





Remember, these are falling basically on your head because you're cutting out the nests with pole pruners a dozen feet up.

Wall.

Dec. 6th, 2008 04:00 pm
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I have a huge pot of chicken noodle soup on. I was off work sick yesterday and slept nearly all day, except for a grocery run my mom drove me on which totally exhausted me. I've more-or-less stopped coughing, picked a fight with Angus this morning, and avoided the call from my newly-discovered cousin (well, who wants to talk to someone for the first time on the phone while fighting with the boyfriend anyhow). I am so exhausted. I'm not sure why. Is it the light? Is it my stressful events index (new job starts this week: 2, family discovered: 6 cousins, illness: 2, financial issues: yes, routine disruption: high)? Am I sicker than I thought? I'm sure ovulation is involved, and possibly less sex than normal. But seriously, what's going on?

When my brain gets like this I can't even tell if my issues are legitimate or not. Things I looked forward to last week will fill me with dread this week. Are the things that are bothering me -actually- bothering me, or just excuses? Am I just regressing to sixteen years old because the spectre of my father is pulled out of the closet? My cousin writes, "I think all of the ladies that had to deal with the men in our family viewed each other as kindred spirits ... I do have to say that they always have a way of pushing away the women that they love (my brother and dad included)"

I had a very good year. Now I'm pulling out and polishing up all my bullshit again, feeling thoroughly abandoned-so-I'll-run-away-pre-emptively. That's in no way cool, but it's so dark, and I get so lonely, and so tired, sometimes. My favourite bike's rear gears exploded and so I'm not as effortlessly mobile as I was. I feel pinned down by my own weight.

You know, it's been awhile since I felt so heavy, so powerless, and so isolated. I'd been taking my rare alone-interludes as snatches of something precious. I hadn't had a lot of alone time, though. I'm supposed to be thinking about rat breeding for the Vancouver show in February, I could clean up my place more and make it more like my home, but... I don't know. I guess everyone needs a day like this once in awhile. I was super high-functioning all week, bombing around on the bike at 6am, shovelling gravel for a couple of hours in the morning, spacing and organizing plants according to the designer's plans, arranging meals and hot drinks for myself with just extra-long nights to compensate for the sick. Now? Super low-functioning.

It can be just a day, not a prediction of this winter. I'll get climbing again-- with so many people I love going, what could keep me from it? I'll find new people to eat with, or revive some of my old commensals. And this fire in me -- the thing that Angus keeps flared bright, that occasionally shifts and burns back at me when the wind turns -- will twist around the way it should be soon.

It's funny, there's that same old time-use issue that pokes up: Angus works at the bar Friday and Saturday, evening till early (or not so early) morning, and soon he'll be gone Sundays again. We don't live together, though we sleep almost every night together, and so there's that whole dance where we try to keep our own lives intact while uprooting and living in someone else's space half the time. I'm in bed early and up early. He's... erratic. He's sick a lot. I spend a week to two weeks chained to the bad side of my cycle every month. We have had so much joy together, but here we're falling into the harder parts where it takes work. Or maybe this is just me, tonight.

I want to go lie on the bare earth under the brightest sun we have right now, that low pale yellow thing, and smell the way cold soil is wet and sweet when it sleeps.

Big Spaces

Nov. 9th, 2008 12:46 pm
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This has been a productive weekend. I biked around in the rain, which made me happy; I put in hours and hours doing schoolwork and am now pretty caught up; I had some talks with a friend that needed to happen. I'm halfway through a book, I'm creating some mood-altering playlists, my rat cages are nearly all clean, I have a batch of ginger beer cooling for thanksgiving and a ginger bug at my house for the next batch. I may have a working interview for the job I want, tomorrow. I am somewhat snuggled, I have not had enough sleep nor enough to eat. I turned down a couple of propositions. I got through an Angus-free weekend; he's in the states away from cellphone reception.

The inside of my head is a big, floating empty space right now. I'm suspended, waiting, divorced from myself. The fear I carry that had been slowly subsiding, that he will leave me again, has reared up in full force. I know, I /know/, that spending some time apart doing your own things tends to draw you together more strongly. I know that he thought pretty hard about getting into it this time, and I know that I'd be fine anyhow. Still, there is this fear.

Fear isn't just anticipation of a negative possibility in this case. It's a bigger thing than that. I've always tended to fear things so much that the ways in which I protected myself were more destructive than the thing I feared. I don't know the point of this, I don't know where it comes from or why or how it came about.

I can't keep up a coherent string of thought anyhow. I was up very late last night and that shimmering floating feeling of sleeplessness keeps intruding itself onto my consciousness.

I'd like to tell you about things I've been doing in my course: water infiltration and soil sedimentation tests on a piece of Angus' yard that show that it's... pure city topsoil of the kind made by mixing amender and sand. I am unsurprised. What does surprise me is how dry the soil is staying with the cherry roots which infiltrate it. It's been raining more or less a week straight, and the soil is certainly not soggy when you dig a foot down through those roots. Granted, it's very sandy soil.

I'd like to think more about thanksgiving meals, but I'm just not inspired right now. I probably need to get a happy light out and set it to wake me up; with all the time I'm spending outside it still never feels like it's getting fully light, even when the grey clears up momentarily and we can tell there's a blue sky up there somewhere.

I miss Angus. I want him in my arms, where he belongs. I already miss Paul, who leaves today, despite the fact that I hadn't seen him forever before this week; we talk well. I definitely need to figure out my finances enough to buy a climbing pass because biking is not enough fun for my body.

Enough whining. I am thankful for many things today. Top half-dozen in this second: the ambient social groups I'm part of, with my roommate and Angus' roommates and KMM included foremost, where I can go and hang out and put in no effort but still be socialised by osmosis; my bike which is nicer than other bikes to ride; my class partner who is lots of fun; my class itself, which is both fun and fascinating and which is a great networking tool; and my career, which I'm still figuring out but which has become recogniseably something I love doing, and which I have the power to shift towards something I love even more; and my boy, who I not only love but who is my person.

So there.
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So I don't normally pay a ton of attention to "the news". One might even say I keep my head deliberately in the sand sometimes.

Sometimes, though, ya just can't keep your chin down far enough. WHAT THE FUCK is with the world lately? Is this just environmentalism going big-time and trendy? I understand that things get dumbed down when they hit mass consumption stage, but things seem to be getting so dumbed down they're actually moving backwards. It's creating this bizarre anti-environmentalism, where people are if you will excuse my caps SO FUCKING SURE THEY ARE HELPING and instead they are ACTIVELY HELPING TO FUCK THINGS UP MORE THAN IF THEY HAD JUST DONE NOTHING.

I mean, what the fuck? How does this even exist in the world? Who ARE these corn-as-biofuel, cutting-down-standing-wood-and-burning-it-will-make-our-forests-carbon-sinks-again, jet-organic-food-from-Chile fucknuts? Is it just the labyrinthine twistings of science-bureaucrazy-media-indifference-rinse-repeat that create this? Because this SO DAMN STUPID that I don't know how it could be created by accident, and SO DAMN IGNORANT that maybe ten minutes of research and common sense applied to the issues should explode them into little bits. Instead the media 'science/random factoid' soundbites get repeated, the issue gets popularised, the policy gets implemented, and no one stops to think: Hey! Corn is food and inefficient as a convertor of sunlight to biofuel, let's use an efficient convertor like sugarcane or grow something on land unfit for agriculture if we want to simply convert rather than reduce! Not only will logging the pine beetle forests and burning the wood for biofuel result in the same amount of carbon in th eair, but it will fuck with the regenerating ecosystem and release all the carbon sequestered in the rest of the vegetation and destabilise slopes and reduce their ability to uptake moisture resulting in floods, washouts, and dead streams! Maybe Chile's organic standards are even weirder and less useful than our own and jetting food that distance is somewhat counterproductive to helping the environment which buying organic is supposed to accomplish anyhow!

And I mean, SUV use is still going up instead of down. There are hundreds of acres of unused arable land in our cities, even if we don't go into balconies and rooftops as per Havana's model. People still drive if they're going four blocks or if it's a sunny day when being out on a bike is sheer joy, and then drive to the gym to work out on machines that require electricity after work. It's not like there aren't things that are self-evident like that lying around by the bucketful. And it's not like there are't useful things happening, like http://sharingbackyards.com/ or community supported agriculture or the hundred-mile-diet thing which is driving the formation of local expertise.

I'm reduced to foaming at the mouth and breathing really hard nowadays. Time to use this energy for packing. Gotta be done by tonight. But guys, please... I don't know. Put an hour a month into researching environmental issues? Anyone who reads this is likely to be doing some practical useful things already, but the more real, true info in people's heads out there the better this will go. And plant a planterbox of lettuce seeds and do the three-week magic of growing your own Earthbound Organics box and you'll have done a LOT.

Ne well, guys.

Caring

Mar. 27th, 2008 03:59 pm
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That's what I miss the most, and what I've missed lately. Angus hasn't had it in him to provide it for me much in the last little while, so I got it in little patches from him; Piotr was consistent with it last weekend; Trevor when I call him; Paul has the solicitousness that makes me feel cherished but not the physical presence to match it.

You know the thing when you're upset but you're covering and you know that, if someone in the room knew you well, they'd be able to tell and might make a sympathetic face in the split second when no one was watching, and let you get back to your act thereafter? That. You know the thing when you're sad and someone doesn't need to talk you out of it, doesn't need to ask you how you're doing, they just hug you like they're really right there until you want to pull away? That. You know the thing when you're falling asleep and you know someone is watching your face or touching a little piece of you because that contact with eye or skin is a treasure? That. You know the thing where you're lonely and you go over to see someone and don't know what to say and instead of saying 'cheer up' they make you a milkshake or take you to see a blooming cherry tree? That. That's what I love in my life where I have it, and I do have it, but crave more of.

This, the real breakup between Angus and I, is the official recognition that we're not reliably that thing for each other now. Sometimes, sure, like all my friends sometimes-- but I have no one to fall back on, because he can't give it and isn't sure he wants to anyhow.

This isn't a post about Angus, though. This is a post about me.

Because the thing is that I love that true, close companionship that comes from understanding another person. I have that split up among people who know and love me. Angus was the first person with whom I felt spiritually compatible, and Piotr the second- I could talk about those things that made me ring and resonate at this very internal deep level and they generally understand. People, you know, who understand the cyclic wheel of change in our lives, whose lives ebb and flow with the seasons, and who understand this not as a fluke or a minor matter but part of the heart of the experience. With Kynnin I was intellectually compatible. Paul understands my intensities. Eva understood the necessity for nurture, and the power of giving and hospitality. Trevor, now, understands with me the transcendent power of love.

These people are the gifts in my life.

Still, you know, I had hoped to find all that in one person-- and I almost did. And I suppose this is a post about Angus, because he's a sweet-talker, you know. He wrote and said some beautiful things to me that I have saved in voicemail, or in my email history, and you know, he told me in plain terms that he would be mine forever. The thing is though that no one knows the future.

And the thing is, though, that how do you believe a promise like that ever again?

Poor Baby

Nov. 17th, 2007 11:39 am
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My throat is all scratchy and gross this morning, and I want someone to make me chicken soup and keep me entertained so I go back to bed and to sleep. :P

I'm not as whiny as all that, though. A bunch of the people around me have got happier, or maybe I've just been hanging out with the happier segment of my friends group, and so the all-pervasive sense of misery that hung over everyone's interactions has vanished. I've also been making some good, proactive choices for myself and keeping things balanced (with a little help from my peeps) and it's good for me.

Too, cooking yesterday was good for me. Ratatouille is probably one of the best things I can eat right now. Lots of veggies. I just want to be babied and cossetted and cared-for at the moment. Not enough to hunt someone down to do it with more than an lj post, it seems, though. Huh, revealed preferences.

Feeling pretty good despite a lack of sleep. I'd better deal with that, huh?
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Okay. Now that I'm not dying, I'll whine a little about yesterday.

Yesterday I had to work, cause one of my co-workers is on vacation and you've gotta water plants or they die-- I'm covering for him. I did the spash-n-dash (no prettying, spraying, or other maintenance, just watering) so it was a short day, and hopefully I wasn't too out of it and so I didn't kill anything through over/underwatering. (Remember, folks, Mondays are 450 plants or so, but luckily the air conditioning is on now so they don't drink so much. Unluckily, air conditioning makes them cranky and they get bugs)

In the morning, until about noon, I was shivering constantly. In the afternoon, I started to heat up, and I sweated until about 5am today. Yummy, right? I also got lots of random muscle aches and shooting pains from my hips and knees, and random cramps in my legs, feet, and back. Also, a headache-- I never get headaches. It was crazy. My body was not, not, not happy. I got home and went directly to sleep at something like 4, with Bob babysitting me and bringing my ratties to the bed to play with me. Getting up to go to the bathroom left me exhausted.

Anyhow, sleeping more or less straight through till 9am left me feeling considerably better, and now my throat hurts, but my body doesn't seem like it's in imminent danger of dying (dude, how does a flu give you shooting pain from your left hip socket anyhow?). I'm going running, cause I feel so, so happy to be able to move without hurting badly, and then I'm going to tidy my house because it looks like a nuclear war zone from yesterday, and then I'm going to bed before 8pm and sleeping, cause tomorrow is a long day.

I spent a bit of time yesterday working on socialising Rain and Honeypie/Rocket Rat (the Petaluma boy). Neither of them are hand-shy in the cage, but Honey really doesn't like being picked up from the bed, so we worked on that a bit, and Rain isn't so comfy being held by non-rat-experts (like Bob) so we worked on that a bit. Honeypie still has some work to be done on him-- he scoots out of your hands like popcorn out of a hot pan if he can the first couple of times if he can get away with it, and squeeks a bit when you try to pick him up, but after three or four repeats where he doesn't get away with it he stops -- then if you try agan ten minutes later you need to go through it all again. I had forgotten what socialising ratties was like. It makes me happy, though, because they're both real honest-to-goodness sweethearts, and very handsome boys, and in a month they'll be ready to learn to come when called and not skittish at all. If Honey does have a drop or two of wild in him, he may always be a bit of a Rocket Rat, but he certainly doesn't mind people at all. Both of them, when left to their own devices, curl up in the crook of my knees under the blanket and groom themselves sleepily. They're such fabulous boys, and they get along well. When Small died, Sweetie and Helen were left together, and though they snuggled, you could tell they didn't really get along and just did the minimum possible socialising. Honey and Rain, though, are always curled up together and playing little rat-games. It's good.

The boys get a lot of words here because the girls are just obviously fabulous. They're friendly, unafraid, loving, curious, bold, etc. Uno's babies are the best line of rats ever. Helen is the sweetest thing going, and she and Silver really get along. I think Lightning will be happy to have higher-energy babies to play with (when I get back from Shambhala that will happen).

So, yeah. Not whiny anymore, but man did yesterday at work suck. And man, do my babies rock. And now running. Be well.

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