Greenstorm's Journal

One of my brothers is in bad trouble. In London. In a psychiatric ward.

I got to the bookstore at 5:01 to pick up my reserved books, they had closed at 5.

I work tomorrow, it won't rain much.

I have some kickass brothers.

My mom's garden, which I helped her plan some, looks kickass, especially my evergreen purple kale hedge (now 2 1/2' tall) seperating the "ornamental" part from the "veggie" part. I was obviously a little ahead of the design curve cause this fall nurseries are selling the exact same kale at maybe a foot and a half high for six or seven dollars each, as ornamentals. Go Greenie edible landscaping powers!

There may be rat babies soon.

I bought a bunch of pots for Angus' deck today at the nursery. I spent a bunch of hours there, wandering and compaaring, and this is gonna look really good. Resume quality. Looking forward to getting them home and planting them up. I love fall nursery sales. LOVE.

Angus feels nice and smells nice. I mean, he generally does, but I've been noticing it a lot lately. Snuggly.

I am quite happy with my garden.

I love my rats lots.

Lady Luck, the traumatically-produced baby of Corn Pops' difficult litter, won best in show marked kitten.

I am almost out of good books to read, but have a bunch under my belt.

Well, it's blood day with a vengeance. Tomorrow I'll be back to work, likely in the rain. Have you ever changed a tampon in the bush, in rain gear, with no sink? Didn't think so.

I have a litre-something of plums soaking in vodka, and a little extra vodka left (grapes? More plums?)

Tonight I give up one of Corn Pops two babies as stud fee, and get a girl named Lollipop who's apparently very sweet.

The boy is having a rough weekend. So am I. Hard to tell which is having a worse. Definitely there's a feedback loop involved.

Need to mend my own fences. They seem to be sagging from neglect.

It's not done yet.

Angus was gonna come over and hold my hand. He couldn't make it till late, his move takes precedence, and my mental fortitude didn't survive that long.

I couldn't find the guide with the instructions.

It's interesting to think about the role of the expert here. In so many things we turn to experts: experts make our music, our food, our homes, our clothes, our toys. When we need something fixed, more often than not we call an expert before trying to dissect the problem.

I've been trying to reclaim my sense of entitlement to do things that experts tend to do. I sing sometimes, knowing that I am not an expert and do it for joy rather than skill, and I am slowly learning the drum. I cook; when I eat in restaurants I don't surrender myself up to an expert's hands but analyse, consider, I take the meal I'm given as if it's a conversation with the chef (why did you do that? How did you do this? This is exciting, this is not so good). I create, if you like, my own religious beliefs. I wear clothing I have made, or collected, rather than following stylistic recommendations. I poke things down pipes and wiggle wires before calling a plumber or an electrician. I raise some of my own food, and forage some; I do not leave it to experts.

I myself am an expert, at gardening and landscaping, and I'm called in by other people.

Death, that seems like it should be administered by an expert. But then, I am a rat expert. The carbon dioxide tank I use is far more humane than the heart-shot most vets will try to administer to a rat, knowing nothing about the animal. It's more humane, I think, than Lightening dying snuggled against my breast inside my coat on public transit as I took her to the vet, confused and in a strange place away from her cagemates. It's certainly more humane than what happened to Silver.

It also places any and all responsibility for the choice and the action squarely in my own hands. These are my pets, my companions. I rescued Rain and Hooneypie-- Rain was going to be released into the endowment lands. Honeypie was from the Petaluma pet hoarding situation. And Hector-- Hector is my baby, Lightening's baby, hand raised by myself from the time he was this big (there he is on my shoulder, tickling me with his tail). His beginning was in my hands. So will his end be.

And here we think about the term humane, which has come for most of us to mean pleasant, or at least not unpleasant. This thing that I'm doing is an assumption of responsibility for something that's traditionally been a human domain -- killing -- but which has been shunted off on experts. What I'm doing is human, is trying my best in the muddle of choices we're all given. It's pleasanter for the rats than a vet's death. Is it pleasanter than a lingering life, with encroaching paralysis and discomfort creeping up more every day? It's human, to make a choice. Is it humane?

Choices are losing me here in any case. It's late. I'm tired. My heart is heavy, like a lead thing swinging around in there.

At the folk fest, someone I met played me a note on a drum, a single note, that made me cry and it made my heart jump inside me. He's coming to do a workshop here to teach me to make a drum. Here on the one hand is sadness, there on the other is joy and anticipation.

Everything else is a stew of things in between.

Goodnight.

...realising that I've survived the last couple of weeks and I'm in one piece, perhaps even ahead.

My balcony is growing absolutely like mad. I just stopped in the middle of this post to go out and take pictures, everything has exploded since even just before the weekend. It's really growing season. I'm very pleased. Very little makes me as happy as my balcony can, or perhaps that's not true. I have a lot of things to be happy about right now, and I'm definitely feeling it.

The rat viewing went well. All the babies should be placed pretty easily, and there might be two or three more for the September show, which would be awesome-- we timed them poorly for this show, that's for sure. The people who want the babies all seem very cool, absolutely in love with the babies they've chosen and well-researched on ratties. Lizzy, Angus, and I have decided who we're keeping 'in the family' so to speak. I loved being in a room with people who loved my babies as much as I do. Everything's going up at www.ratanist.com in the 'we've got babies' link, go look!

The masquerade was fun, though a little nervous because I spent a bunch of time watching out for/being nervous for a friend of mine who was having a rough night. That friend came through very well, though. I got to see lots of fantastic people I rarely see, met another Chris, a boy of Eva's (she seemed happy and that is always good) and the socialising was good for me. I didn't drink at all, and that was good too. Since I've really got into wine and gin I find that fewer events go by where I don't drink, and it tones down the quality of interaction if I get more than a tiny bit tipsy, so I need to remember to pass on drinks more often. I also need to figure out very very tasty non alcoholic drinks so I don't miss out on the tasty stuff. Any ideas? I'm finding the whole taro bubble tea powder + banana + coconut milk + ice thing terribly tasty. Also, tapioca pearls go in everything!

The roommate search seems to be turning up some very nice people on craigslist, plus there's the possibility that Gabe will be around.

My non-baby rats are lovely lovely lovely. Odin and Quartz are particularly my favourite things in the whole world right now-- well, Odin, Quartz, Angus (I would not have made it through the weekend without his help. I'm my own rock at the center of the universe, but he's certainly my tower of unrelenting strength and support), Lizzy (without whom I could not breed babies, I am so glad she can deal with the people end), my lovely lovely home, oh, it's all good.

I threw some money at my hairstylist Saturday morning, and as a consequence I have a truly awesome haircut. I've been with her since before she was charging anything, and now I have to seriously budget to go to her and give her the tip she deserves, but... she remembers me, and I love being able to go in, say, "I'm bored! Do something fun!" and end up with a grown-out asymmetrical undercut (a "disconnection" she calls it) that totally shows off my blue halo, looks punked-up when I wear it up, and can be worn down quite conservatively depending on how I shove it around.

I got to bleach and dye Angus' hair GREEN. MY LIFE IS COMPLETE. GREENSTORM IS A VIRAL ENTITY.

I also have a truly awesome dress, and a stupendously girly pair of white heels that I can surprisingly walk in alright, but that I can't imagine wearing anywhere due to a simple lack of occasion. I also (gasp) got my legs waxed, so I was running on full-on girl mode during the masquerade. It's funny how taking all the hair off and putting on the heels gave me body image issues for awhile-- playing too close to the Barbie box certainly points out the fact that you're not in it, however pretty you may actually be. And, you know, sometimes the box is just too brightly embedded to see the pretty beside it.

Some good sex, snuggling, and food fixed that pretty quick. Cause, damn, my body is a supremely functional entity and I joy in having it.

I should have put a chicken in the oven an hour ago. I'll do that now. Love you guys. I'll have time after the roommate viewing this week to kick back and show off baby rats and share some drinks on my patio with you, I think. Mission Folk Music Festival is coming up, too. Life is joy.

And that entry jumped around like crazy. Just you wait till I have time to write about my garden- ginger mint, chocolate mint, peppermint, apple mint, greek oregano, garden oregano, golden oregano, marjoram, sage, lavender, so many kinds of tomato, begonias that burn your eyes with brightness, flowery things (geraniums! Heliotrope! Nicotiana! Maybe jasmine!), roses doing well, cucumbers starting to climb, my clematis firmy ensconced in my bamboo (and I have no idea what colour it'll be but it'll bloom soon) and my clematis armandii cuttings maybe having taken, okra up and running, basil doing wlel, baby lettuce more-or-less harvestable, arugula, watercress, the whirligig osteospermum on the coffee table, native vacciniums doing well, sorrel seeding, I swear there's nowhere to start but pictures. Where is that camera cable...?

"Will this water hurt the plants, or is it okay to water them with it?"

Vancouver has a boil-water advisory right now, because high rainfall (and possibly something to do with various activity in the watershed) have caused high turbidity (that is, dirt in the water) where bacteria "might possibly" lurk, avoiding the chlorine-- and, of course, be fed by the organic matter in there.

I don't think there are fistfights going on in the supermarkets anymore, but people are still going through bottled water like crazy (not too fond of boiling it, I guess) and drinking a ton more pop than usual.

And, of course, worrying about their plants.

On a much less cynical note, my beautiful Lightening-mama is doing very well with her babies, and they're showing markings. Of the seven boys, only two have curly fur; of the six girls, four have curly fur. There are some fabulous, fabulous lightening-blazes, silly white faces, and possum faces. One adorable boy has a hood and a little spot on his bum with no real trail in-between. Some of the crooked blazes are stupidly cute. There's a girl with Sunday's markings, but I think she's black and not charcoal.

I've bought myself a copy of the Iliad to read with the thought of naming the babies.

I took my climbing class last night at the local (twenty minute jog away) climbing gym, and it was lots of fun. Belay test in a week, then I'm climbin' like a real boy. Until then I can mess around bouldering (low-down stuff that doesn't need ropes) but not really be a contributing partner. I learnt a bunch, and I wouldn't have been able to if I hadn't gone before with Bob and worked on the fear of heights thing, so I'm very happy about the whole thing.

Crazy-stupid at work is over, and life can go on. I found myself laughing after work yesterday for the first time in awhile, and really smiling, and it felt weird. Now to make some green-tea-in-apple-juice and to relax a bit before cleaning the rat cages.

( Read more... )

Growing fur, and looking like real rats! Seperated by girls and boys, and two individual shots. I need to buy a flickr account so I can put more pictures up, cause the internet needs more pictures of my rats! ;)

Goodbye, goodnight, I love you.

Juggler's back from Thailand with two marriage proposals and a suntan. I'm awake after a night of really solid sleep. I feel particularly peaceful. That pretty much means nothing to write about, although--

I get to pick up my babies on Friday!

SITH Silver (was Amber)


and SITH Lightning (was Miss Elisabeth)


Cutest babioes ever! The SITH, in case you're wondering, si the breeder tag-- they're pedegreed, etc.

Yesterday I went to the world rat day party in New West, at the house of the woman who bred nmy babies. I got to meet other rat people, including someone who knew me through a couple of social threads (KMM? Livejournal? Graham? Check). That was pretty cool. Meeting Lizzie and Susan was very cool too-- these people are intensely knowledgeable about rats, and also friendly and nice. I got to meet some lovely boys and cuddle them (I miss my boys so much, and these guys were huge) and that felt wonderful.

Even more cool, though, I got to hold my babies. They are, as I knew they would be, the cutest baby rats anywhere. Their daddy is awesome. Their mom is very sweet. The babies are just adorable. Amber is a little shoulder-baby, who every time I picked her up (and this happened often) would seek out my shoulder and sit there comfortably, being fuzzy at me. she's white with one very tiny light grey ("blue" spot behind one ear. Miss Elisabeth is white with a bunch of dark grey over her face and shoulders in scattered patxches, and a little lightning-bolt of white down her nosae. She's an adventurous one, at only a few weeks already seeing how far she can travel. They're both dumbo-eared, which means they have big ears set low on the skull, and terribly comfortable around a horde of all ages. I want to call them Silver and Lightning, but I like Amber and Miss Elisabeth too. Sigh, choices.

Then, I slept. Through the night. First time in a long time. It's weird, cause I'm actually quite worried about this surgery for no real reason except that my Sweetie is involved.

It's a grey morning, and I need to run to the vet both before and after work, so I should get started. Best thoughts to my baby.

I ran into Nina on the4 seabus yesterday-- that is, Ziggy/Arrogant_Gamer's Nina from KMM. Hear that, Ziggy? I've tried to convince her to come back to KMM when it starts again, because she is extremely cool. She said she was surprised that the movies there werre good movies, the ones she watches, and she's a bit of a film buff from Korea-- bu tthat she wasn't disappointed, because they're the kind of movies you can watch again and again.

I've decided that I'm going to stop thinking girls are crazy, and more realistically will think that many girls are crazy, but not all.

Today I have my contacts appointment after work. I need to schedule an appointment for Sweetie. I'm not sure if they'll need an exam visit plus a surgery visit. I wish this wasn't in tuition-due month, but screw that. I'm not moving too, I should squeak by somehow. I find myself sad at odd times. None of my rats died as a result of a long, slow illness. I know I'm getting ahead of myself-- sweetie is pretty healthy, this is a first tumour, etc. I dunno. Graham came over last night after class and he played with the rats while I changed the cage. They crawled up under his shirt while he lay back, and I told him that's what kept me alive during the breakup with Kynnin. I was moving out, we were 'broken up' but I was still living there then, and I used to lie on the bed naked and let them crawl all over me like that. It tickled, and I'd laugh and laugh.

I tell that story a lot, when I'm talking about why I love my rats. There will be new babies son, and the whole thing will go on. I think I do love them "more" than I love most people-- it has to do with not having to worry that their freedom will hurt me. OF course, it's a smaller kind of love because they're less complex things, so maybe in the end it's not more, just more wholly. I don't know.

I'm no longer in a position where I can say everyone's leaving me even if Juggler goes to Thailand, mom to Japan, and Graham to KElowna, and Sweetie dies. There are too many people left.

Love you guys.