Fire Tribe rides again

I definitely wanted to make practice last night, as it was the first time everyone lit up, got used to the dip station, and the safeties practiced putting out live toys, one after the other.  I will be missing practice next week, as Desi and I will be going to the Winchester House.

 My usual ride was out of town, although he had promised to pick me up even if late.  But come late in the afternoon, he was still out of town, delayed by either weather or a new fiancee.  Too late for me to scramble a ride, and my one possibility was ill.  Too late to try the bus either.  That would take hours and did not appeal.  So I packed lightly and called Lyft.  Luckily I got a ride almost immediately and was only 20 minutes late. $38 plus a tip.  I cannot afford that weekly, but now and then it should be alright.  The Art Space is close enough to the airport that most drivers should be able to pick something up on a Sunday evening.  Still, I am annoyed.

Only one person was fussy that I would not pour extra fuel for their special tool.  That's not what we were doing.  Just a quick dip, shake/tap, spin off, light up, take a few moments in the performance area, the put out.  We were using only a single can, not the full station, and had none of the cups or squirt bottles.  No way to fuel an entire double wick staff.  He huffed off, poor baby. Sorry, not sorry.

Even I needed practice, a can I assumed was sealed was not.  I left it open at the station, told P. that everything was copacetic, and he ended up with a spill.  Entirely my fault.  it shall not happen again.

I froze my ass off and was unprepared.  I need a poncho, a flashlight, a good lighter, my first aid kit.  Maybe a multitool and a knife.  And a towel. 

I caught a ride home with someone who lives in a nearby town.  That was nice.  Otherwise I had planned on begging a couch and taking Front Runner home in the morning.  Ugh.

The good thing was three people got a pair of Larry's leather boots.  Wonderful. 

I miss Larry so much though.  So very much.

Treading water or making progress? I cannot tell some days.

I had this whole blog complete, and my wifi crapped out.

Had a couple rough days.  Lots of tv and music and sulking, many tears, much sad.  I hate it.

Still, I made a nice slow cooker stew.  Browned beef, carrots and celery from the freezer.  That means Larry had chopped them up and bagged them, so tears.  Half and onion, some ginger, some garlic, a can of green beans.  I have sooo many green beans, Larry loved them.  Some homemade broth out of the freezer, some Better than Bullion, some good hot paprika, some Ras El Hanout.  Regular paprika is no better than dust, and a fine Ras El Hanout adds such depth!  Yum.  Sad, but yummy.

I want to paint, I tidy up, I get everything ready, but I cannot sit and put brush to canvas just yet.  I will keep trying.

I got the suitcase up into the top of Larry's closet.  Changed the sheets, made the bed, washed everything.  I got one basket of clean clothes put away, one more to go.  I should wash my jeans for fire tribe.  I gained ten pounds and my smaller ones are too tight.  Time to eat better.

I need to make yogurt very soon.  Vacuum, dust.  Tidy.  Write to Sally.  There's another story.  The kittens are still next door, cuddling with their siblings and poor Rowena, who just had foot surgery. 

This is hard.  I hate being this sad, this tired, this lonely.  I am exhausted.  Better, but this is so hard.

Cancun and the weirdness of it all.

Back in 2017, after my surgeries, when I was feeling optimistic and happy about the future, I booked a trip to Cancun for our 32nd anniversary.  We were going to go to Isla Mujeres, go see some of the Mayan ruins we missed before, swim in  a cenote, in the ocean, in each other's arms.  Well that didn't happen.

I went on the trip.  I took a friend, although not a close one.  I caught a bad cold, it rained, my friend did not want to go in the pools, she slept in when I was awake for hours.  Just different people in the same place, sharing the same tours, and some meals.  Pleasant enough, but mismatched.  The pirate ship was a hoot, but the friend is unsmiling in the photo.  Party pooper.  She went through nearly three fifths in the room (gin, Canadian Mist, and most of a vodka).  How is that fun?  The maid decorate the jacuzzi with rose petals.  Romance for one, eh?

New goal is to pack lighter.  Larry carried everything, without complaint.  I cannot. 

Catching up: attending Fire Tribe.  Winter and travel weight gain is bugging me.  I have new kittens, although they are away being spayed just now.  I make lists of things to do and then neglect it all.  I am in a new sad downward spiral.  It will reverse and I will start feeling better, but I do not know when. 

I will post more, in greater detail, when I can.  I feel stuck for now.

Next great adventure is Santa Cruz and the Winchester House!  Traveling with Desi, this should be better.

Single serving

A cold, wet, chilly day, so I decide to have potstickers for lunch.  They're hot and tasty, and might hit the spot.  I'm craving Chinese food, and I could have it delivered, but I don't want that many calories or that much sodium before traveling.  And I'm trying to be mindful of the cash flow too. 

I have a bag of Ling Ling potstickers from the commissary, the regular size bag, not the Feed the Masses Costco size.  Four servings per bag.  That means two servings  after I dutifully read the nutrition label.  I get our the cute little 8 inch cast iron pan, not the regular size skillet or the monster 14 incher Larry found in the dumpster in San Diego.  Someone didn't know how to season or clean cast iron, which means we scored!  The small skillet is from the dumpster too, and the glass lid to my stainless steel sauce pan fits it perfectly.  You'd think they make them that way.

Count out ten potstickers, put the sauce bag in a bowl of hot water.  Oil, potstickers, water, boil, steam, uncover, evaporate off the last of the water.  Make the sauce, prep the tray, get out the chopsticks.  Count the potstickers.  Wait.  I did that when I took them out of the bag.  Break down crying because Larry and I will never sit over a shared bowl anymore and ask, how many have you had?  Not just potstickers, but fishsticks, chicken strips, eggrolls, shrimp, all the appetizer finger food groups.  He'd make a huge batch and figure out how many was a serving for me, and how much more was a serving for him.  He could eat about twice as much as me, and metabolize a lot more calories.

Dammit.  I should have just called China Star.