taennyn: a human hand reaching for a climbing hold (humans make bad goats)
Wedging a roll of quarters firmly crosswise did wonders for the left foot fit (not that the spray sunscreen can and old glasses case + roll of quarters wedges didn't help, 'cause they did, but gaining the couple mm at the width of the big toe helped more).

I cleared two of my three bouldering problems from last time, and made it a hold further on the last one (argh). Read more... )

Watching other people climb and boulder is fascinating. I watched a woman climb a 5.11 (my personal best so far is a 5.8, bigger numbers increase difficulty) two different ways, one of which involved an enormous 'imna leap off the wall to grab the next hold' jump and the other involving using the texture of the wall surface to get where she needed to, which was neat, and a Russian guy boulder calmly up and down (and climbing down a bouldering problem is harder than getting up one) everything up through the oranges and possibly the whites with two fingers taped together and a lot of wingspan.

My bouldering is not exactly calm yet. At least not on the ones that actually give me trouble. It's a bit more 'get back here you goddamned hold' than graceful.

But then bouldering tends to involve a lot of '*SPLAT* *stare up at undersurface of problem one just fell off going 'well THAT didn't work'* *peel self off mat, try again*', so, y'know. At least I'm not alone.
taennyn: a human hand reaching for a climbing hold (humans make bad goats)
So nobody's feet are exactly the same size, or if they are congratulations Unusual Human, Well Done You.

I'm a left-foot-bigger, just enough to notice in new ordinary shoes, and really enough to notice in rock climbing shoes because they're for turning your feet into imitation hooves.

I need a wedge of some sort. Or a tiny chisel and hammer.

Anyway! Today we went bouldering, which is short range no-ropes-and-harnesses climbing, but trends a bit less helpfully vertical.

Oof. No wonder I watch people fall off these walls every time I come climbing. This is tricky. (I mean, I knew that, but trying it is still illuminating.)

tracking, because I'm like that )

Less 'HAH I DID THE THING' than Sunday's session, but bouldering's harder than climbing 5.6s and I've been pushing my hands a lot lately.
taennyn: (one of these days I'll fall on my head)
So I tried a New Thing Thursday night.

Most of the time when my spouse talks me into trying a New Thing I have to say 'Babe, do not buy me gear for this (yet)'. You know, ski boots, skis . . That sort of gear. I do not want much money invested in things I am definitely still at the *squints dubiously at* stage of involvement in.

I ... think I have a new sport.

Oops.

rock shoes, war shoes . .  )
taennyn: (it's only me)
I'll admit this is the level of hair length change that makes me contemplate other drastic measures (like attempting a perm, which is what I did the last time I lost this much hair).

I probably shouldn't try a perm again, given how much hair snapped off at my scalp in 2012 and that I'm still growing out. Unfortunate, because that worked great for the internal shift from 'where the fuck is the rest of my hair' to 'twisty twisty twisty muwahaha'. I mean, it didn't take the way perms are supposed to, I never had Curls Omg so much as a semi-permanent case of mermaid hair waves, but that was pretty much what I was looking for anyway. =\

Argh, say I.
taennyn: (at the altar of knowledge)
I just went from a 27-cross braid (with the last seven-plus crosses ratty and split-ended and narrow) to a 10-cross. =\ I'd been hoping to go from sacrum-length to waist-length, but apparently leaving Tendrils wasn't on.

On the plus side it's going to be harder for my hair to tickle the insides of my elbows, what with the whole 'only just past ends of shoulderblades' thing.

She remembered me, and I got to rub the ears of her teenage beagles lots (they're very cute when they mostly want their ears rubbed and to try to climb into your lap, as opposed to baying at stray air currents).

Definitely going to be weird to turn my head on the pillow and not see the tendrils for a while.

-

Slipped my neck yesterday afternoon. Not the worst slip I've ever had, but bad, and I was incredibly grateful I not only had prescription sunglasses but that I'd remembered to take them with me. I got errands done on the way home! :)

I may have even pinpointed exactly the circumstances for a bad neck slip: moving from deep flexion into extension when my head and neck are roughly parallel to the floor (so gravity is pretty much at maximum for my neck muscles trying to hang onto my skull). So leaning far backwards into open space and then looking at the floor (hello neck slip during reformer ii class!) is a 'use extreme caution' affair, as is propping my thighs on an arc with my hands on the floor and playing teeter-totter with my feet and head, then choosing to look up when my head's nearly at the bottom of the arc (hello yesterday. Ow).

Stupid neck.
taennyn: (Loki)
So there's a young man on Tumblr. (For purposes of disclosure I do not have a Tumblr, but I do read about 10 on a regular basis. They're kind of like comics.)

This particular young man has led an interesting existence. Sometimes he tells stories about it. Mostly while drunk, but then he's telling stories of past drunkeness and it pretty much works out.

An example quote: Alright so we’re throwing this riot let’s be honest it was like so far past a party it was a whole different level we were fighting with fire like literally vinyl gloves with cotton hand wraps soaked in lighter fluid and then we light them on fire and punch each other it was FUCKING RAD I wanted to put in a fucking eagle making sweet love to a gutiar here but I can’t find it and I’m too drunk for photoshop.

*stares some more*
taennyn: low-angle view of a woman in folded-up jeans and green shoes walking along a railroad track. (Dorothy's got nothin' on these)
So Miz Mooz finally made a new green ballet flat!

They named it Deb. )
taennyn: (come back another day)
Sunday evening I couldn't turn my head to the left without my upper back spasming, which was all kinds of fun.

Monday morning I got in to see one of the PTs at West 4th, which helped with head turning, but then my body decided to throw a wobbler at me.

By which I mean I threw up twice between 2 pm and 5 pm and didn't risk food again until 10 pm, laid myself down in full darkness in a partially filled bathtub until the water went cold (twice; ugh, I hate getting water in my ears), and waited the stupid meatsuit out. It was just fab. =\

For some reasons I decided trying to do my usual Tuesday back to back pilates mat classes was a Bad Idea.

Did make the drive south, though. Spread out the spouse's hockey gear in the living room to dry out and was then obliged to flee because augh. Hockey gear.
taennyn: (once sawmills and strawberry farms)
We got together last week (around my dad's 68th birthday) to let her trundle around in Whatcom County to contemplate eventual places to live.

The bed and breakfast was beautiful, but I regularly had to wander outside/stay near the deck windows to dowse successfully for wifi signal. That was not delightful.

I've been trying to sketch textiles and fine arts (and cussing a lot because fuck) across various fictional universes, which actually made me go track down La Bricoleuse, because she is hand-to-sky fascinating reading. I am in no way a MFA specialising in theater costuming and props, but damn I can admire the work put in.

My history of the Turks book skipped over the period I'm really interested in, unfortunately, but it is at least neat reading. We're onto Tamerlane, who is an experience.


In other news, M and I wound up discussing home improvement shows like Holmes on Homes in universes like the Deaths and this led to the idea of needing to taser a house to defuse the metal cache* hidden behind the plaster-and-lathe. Y'know. As you do.

*: "Okay, let's get this first layer off--oh shit. Is that live steel? %&#*, we're gonna have to call a specialist, that's live steel, okay, everybody back off--"

....

Jan. 24th, 2015 11:50 am
taennyn: (once sawmills and strawberry farms)
Yesterday, in all seriousness, my mother asked me what the difference was between a blog, Facebook, and Twitter.

I live under a rock, culturally speaking. It's a much smaller rock than it used to be, but it's still a rock. It was very bemusing to discover my mother's rock is much, much larger than mine.
taennyn: (Fire and Chaos)
I bought gas today at $1.96/gallon.

What century did I wake up in?
taennyn: (this is not a tea icon)
(Ah, the joys of short-form wishlists for blood relations)

So far the worldbuilding I've been trying to work into Falcons' Feathers looks like it hasn't been flat-out wrong yet, which is nice. (I've been having to use more Mongol references than I'd prefer; the major reason I'm not using the Mongols is that when the Mongols and the Russians met--well. Inviting a steppe people in to help you beat up your city-state rivals was a longstanding tradition. It maaay backfire slightly when the steppe people you invite in are the Mongols' westernmost army. >.> Just possibly.) I'm not yet into the right period, though, so am hoping the trend's going to continue.

Read several fiction books lately, two Pratchetts (Raising Steam and Unseen Academicals, which is the one I misplaced the tab for) and Katherine Addison's The Goblin Emperor, which I deeply enjoyed the plot and politics and character development of but have questions about some of the fundamental worldbuilding. It's worth checking out a copy if you like complex political machinations and subtle social cues in addition to airships and assassination plots.
taennyn: (Loki)
I just spent about forty seconds looking for the tab I was reading that long story in.

You know. The Terry Pratchett novel sitting on the side table. Waiting for me to be done with email that needed typed responses.

*facepalm*
taennyn: (Loki)
Going through* and click/reading a whole table of contexts post . . . . and then running out of story to read.

Because you haven't written any more yet. *facepalm*



*: I was going looking for 'fine arts in Witches' Horses [universe] and influence on daily objects' detailing I'd already got on screen to put in a babble post, because why not use one's own work, and then I kinda got sucked in. Whoops.
taennyn: (at the altar of knowledge)
Spoilers inherent to discussion, I think. Click the cut at your own risk. :)



I saw this in the theatre and enjoyed it )


*: I'm moving away from 'kitsune' as a descriptor for my internal-worldbuilding magical trickster foxes. Korean kitsune are evil fuckers, and Japanese kitsune, while usually not wearing the very black hat of a Korean kitsune, do have more-or-less complex motivations and shapechanging rituals that don't work in the context of Wild Roses' foxes. Needing to stick your head in a human skull to change into a human shape, or wanting to marry a nobleman but not being able to hide your tail is a bit off.

Not entirely unrelatedly, Y. H. Lee's The Youngest Fox is a really fun short read playing on the more traditional mythological fox motif.
taennyn: (come back another day)
I can be strangely easy to discourage posting. Anybody got anything they'd like me to babble about?
taennyn: (once sawmills and strawberry farms)
It involves something from Dogfish Head Brewing (the US Thanksgiving victim was Noble Rot, although Veggie and I also got into the Midas Touch. We just didn't have enough drinkers for both 'beers' and Veggie's dad's cherry kajifa), and every glass shape and rim one can lay hands on.

No, seriously, I brought a straight-sided rimless glass, a relatively-straight rimmed glass, a rimmed stemless wine glass, a rimless stemless wine glass and a Glencairn down to the house on the island I grew up on to do this trick.

We added a brandy snifter, my dad's Favourite Wine glass (a glass-paperweight-round rimmed glass with a stem exactly as long as his three fingers excluding pinky, which goes under the base of the glass), and a tiny little stemless-snifter-type my parents either stole or bought off Scandinavian Airlines when I demonstrated the trick with a bottle of red wine to my mother the night before US Thanksgiving. We discarded the clay goblet as an option after a taste each.

See, the party trick is you take a bottle of something, pour enough for multiple-human tastings into each of the glasses you have available, and then everyone goes down the line of glasses. Veggie and I have yet to agree on a 'this tastes the best' selection, (which is convenient when one only has one drinking vessel of that shape/rim. >.>) with one exception.

The Midas Touch taught us that one should include the original bottle as part of the tasting procession. That was neat.
taennyn: low-angle view of a woman in folded-up jeans and green shoes walking along a railroad track. (Dorothy's got nothin' on these)
See, I've got a Thing about green shoes.

Enough of a Thing that I've gradually (accidentally) trained various pilates classmates to assume out loud that the pretty green shoes in the pile by the cubbies are mine.

They've never been wrong. >.>

Pic underneath cut )
taennyn: (at the altar of knowledge)
I've been using the old Livejournal server storage for photo posts, but that's frankly not going to work forever. Anyone have a site they really like?
taennyn: low-angle view of a woman in folded-up jeans and green shoes walking along a railroad track. (Dorothy's got nothin' on these)
As per standard, No Pink. Anything Pink goes to M's sister Norka or Veggie's unsuspecting coworkers. =P

New disclaimer: Above and beyond the 'I'll hiss at you and attempt to beat you with them' Don't Buy Me Roses* command, apparently I throw the smell of roses harder than I throw the smell of frankincense. And I throw the smell of frankincense.

General Notes: My birthday is 5th January if you like marking those events with Things. I am slightly allergic to lavender & cumin, and am sensitive to patchouli and florals like gardenia and jasmine. I hate roses*. I am easily lured by ravens, scuttling-in-the-wind leaves, opals**, Speyside Scotches, knives, and dark greens (with no admixture of yellow. Olive shoes are a travesty).

*: Stupid fantasy story and its stupid iconography and modern culture's love for that iconography . . .

**: Link included for visual reference, not request.



Winter Wishlist 2014 )

Amazon wishlist: here
Etsy 'ooooer' list: here

A broad 'Shopping for Taes' entry resides here.
taennyn: (fruits of the harvest)
Because let's face it if we wait for me to think of five things I want to tell the internet we're going to be here a while.

Thing 1. I need to remember to tell my eventual mental health professional about the you-haven't-done-the-thing nightmares. Weirdly they're never biology class related; math, yes, chemistry, yes. Biology, no. Which is weirdly funny in a 'I feel like crying' kind of way, considering the two classes I actually outright failed during the undergrad debacle (for the record, undiagnosed depression is nobody's friend) were a human body structures and an animal physiology class. (Passed the lab side of the animal physiology, didn't pass the class side. *hands*)

Thing 2. I can't decide if my amazon recommendations think I'm two or three different people all sharing an account or not. Also I need to work out how one subdivides one's wishlist into human physiology and the unhooping thereof, historical cultural contacts and trade connections, 'this will probably make me shout at it a lot but not stop reading' books, cooking gardening and preservation history and techniques, Russian science fiction in translation because my Russian is definitely not up to the original anymore (argh) Russian culture and language-learning books, and things that have delighted me in the past so I wish to have them in physical form things.
Thing 2-A. My netflix is roughly this bad if tilted to watch-once murder mysteries and Egypt-related documentaries. >.>
taennyn: (Loki)
I knew I threw frankincense a lot.

So I just tried on BPAL's Rose Cross. We put it on my inner arm, very deliberately away from a pulse point, because of the Frankincense Thing.

... Apparently I throw rose even harder than I throw frankincense. Because it got to the point that none of the three of us ([personal profile] recessional, [personal profile] goshawk and me) who were smelling things ([personal profile] recessional's sister was abstaining, technically, though may be contact high by this point) could get within a handspan distance of my arm without the ROSE coming for our souls.

I am still smelling roses through [personal profile] recessional's dish soap. Twice.

Augh.
taennyn: (Loki)
So we're packing up to head out for calories (whether grocery form or restaurant form), when several people remark "Holy shit!" and Zach starts scrambling for the kitchen.

Our sink was Erupting. White, chlorine-smelling foam, frothing over the confines of the sink and going for the floor. Zach got the kitchen stopper in place, now elbows-plus deep in Foam and working on his ankles.

(There was some bailing, for obvious reasons. I used the tub, because biggest receptacle, and the biggest of the mixing bowls.)

Our current theory is that someone on one of the floors above us put dish-soap liquid in their dishwasher.

Because foam Erupted from our kitchen sink to the point that it hit the ceiling.

No, seriously.

More pics available if anyone likes, though I didn't realise posterity was calling until I looked up and realised there was foam on the ceiling, so had already mopped up the floor and the lower cabinets, the counter, and splashed water around in the tub and the sinks.

Well played, water gods.

.... Huh.

Jun. 24th, 2014 10:46 am
taennyn: a woman's upraised, tattooed arm touching the nape of her neck (paper-flowers and arabesques)
I don't want to jinx it? But this is the longest period my problem ribs have gone without slipping back out of where they're put, and breathing . . doesn't hurt.

This is really, really confusing. O.o; Awesome, but confusing.

I mean, the problem ribs have been problems since the summer of 2005, before I bashed my elbow in early 2006. They've gotten more or less progressively better since they were accurately diagnosed as a rib issue (not a shoulder issue) in '08. If nothing else I can walk up a steep hill without wheezing and try plank and plank related poses now. =P But they've been maaaad for . . six months? Ish? Multiple months, anyway, of walking into a physio appointment and going 'yeah, the rib ache is back, my shoulder's clunking when I try to use my right arm as a stabiliser for bridging, and my scapula is winging at the bottom edge when the humerus is internally rotated* and I can't get it flush with the ribs' every damn week.

*: New physios are always a fun enterprise. Especially before I made the decision of eventually being one, when it was just four years of injury treatment and paying attention to what people were working on.

much babble )

But I did a TRX class yesterday afternoon--being really specifically careful of the ribs during the warmup phase, because oy--and didn't lose the shoulder. Pullup progression didn't tick into biceps; three or four people apparently made O.o; face about how good that looked. One of 'em commented after the class about it.

I did the Official Demo of Pike with feet in straps, which involves pivoting around your shoulders, and while it was Work? I didn't grind in the shoulder joint.

*fingers crossed* I think this is the first time I've actually felt like I've gotten ahead of the damned ribs.

Now I just have to get through Mat 2 without hooping everything. >.>
taennyn: low-angle view of a woman in folded-up jeans and green shoes walking along a railroad track. (Dorothy's got nothin' on these)
It wasn't bad. Some awesome moments, some '...erm' moments, but I remarked to the Dormouse via email afterwards that I was still holding out hope for someone to crack and write the version of Sleeping Beauty where the puny humans invite both faerie factions to their eldest's Formal Presentation so as not to offend either, and suddenly the 'good' faeries are obliged to give real gifts, because the humans invited the 'bad' faction, too, and not only did the 'bad' side show up, it's somebody high up in the ranks who did.

She replied "..... Someone should be you. NOW. *STARES AT YOU*"

So I sketched for her. As you do.

And sketched another one a couple of days ago, because I realised I hadn't found her any fic where someone gets turned into a kitten in ages.

So, if you're interested. These are all slightly cleaned up and tweaked in comparison to their email versions.

-----

The one with mention of infant mortality rates )
-----

The one with an unexpected sense of drama )
-----

The one with a really, really accidental consequence )
taennyn: (dried memories of summer)
Y'see, we went camping this weekend. (Not in the living room, just to be clear.) And there was some rain, so it's important to let things dry out before going back into storage.

A couple months ago, borrowing my father-in-law's tent (and motorcycling flashlight lantern, which is flipping amazing) and returning it in needs-some-airing condition would have been a bit of a whatever, but they just downsized to a one-bedroom (from two) and I don't think they have space anymore.

For forgetting the hotdog buns at home--and me forgetting that there's a time when I'm propped happily in the dark next to a good-smelling campfire and somewhat toasted on ciders that I should really not accept the rum bottle that's been passed to me. Or if I accept it don't take it as a challenge--we had a lovely time. I filled my pockets with interesting rocks, we stared in awe at the raging horde of tadpoles in the really slow section of the creek, the tiny frog that got caught was let go in roughly as good of condition as they were when discovered by mammals, and everything smells of campfire now.

(Sinus soot: not as much fun on day two.)
taennyn: (Loki)
"..... *disgruntled* The Air is hard to bite."
taennyn: (boy mine (and me))
"Vikings were kind of the herpes of Europe. Almost everybody had them, and you were never sure when they were going to come back."
taennyn: (fruits of the harvest)
1. It is really interesting watching an ulnar nerve treatment sequence when the issue's caught early and treated appropriately. (I may be tagging along on Zach's unhooping sessions.)

2. It would be really nice to get a 'We received your box of solidly packed doom permanent residency application' letter so I can apply for BC medical coverage. =\

3. I accidentally watched a documentary about Sicilian mummies (augh) and much less accidentally watched the first in a series of documentaries about early female rulers (and attempted rulers) of England. God damn is Eleanor of Aquitaine more interesting than you'd gather from Robin Hood mythos. Also how different would things have played out if William the Conqueror's grand-daughter had been actively and successfully crowned and allowed to rule? *fascinated*

4. Attempting to run an accounting software system through somebody else's fingers is extremely trying and I would be very pleased if some of the proofreading bug was catching. =|

5. I should really go through and make an order of pilates props. Faking a squishy ball with a pillow is awkward, even if it is working so far.

5a. Still need to find a pilates studio up north. Still extremely dubious.

(6. Self, next time you're up north, go to a damned yoga class. =P Even if you are done with all the punchcards at both studios you've tried, it's worth leaving the house and seeing a different teacher. Diversity in cueing is awesome!)
taennyn: (one of these days I'll fall on my head)
Nor, given how I feel right now, does the title really apply, but. >.>

I went to two Pilates mat classes today (the rationale was noticing that Favourite Pilates Teacher mentioned a class with the studio owner last week, and due to scheduling overlap I can't go to my usual TRX class Friday lunchtime because I'm seeing Kate fifteen minutes before the class ends in a different part of Bellingham).

I did not die.

My abs and triceps may disagree in the morning, but thus far? I did not die. That's kind of awesome.

I got a new 'okay, bum: activate without me pinning you down and demanding you move' exercise out of my extra class, and a Pilates move I am surprisingly badass at and would definitely not have been before both all the PT I've done on my shoulders and the pushup progressions/wrist strengthening stuff I've been doing as prep for late June's Mat 2 teacher training session.

beneath cut, description. :) )

(Words cannot describe how nice it is to get visible proof of progress. Especially since it was obvious my abs were not up to two other tasks in that class. Wheeeee.)

And then I didn't die in the second class, which was oodles of shoulder mobs and triceps and obliques. (My triceps and obliques hate my favourite pilates teacher for relatively obvious reasons.)
taennyn: a woman's upraised, tattooed arm touching the nape of her neck (paper-flowers and arabesques)
If nothing else it's going to be a while yet before I run out of fascially linked compensation patterns and nerve referral pain lines. =P

I'm still not sure what I want to put near my shoulder, but the hip ideas are--very slowly--starting to come together. At least in part by discovering Sky at L'Art du Point in goddamned Belgium, who does lovely negative-space dotwork designs.

Seriously. Annoyingly lovely. I don’t have the money (or the French) to track a tattoo studio and artist down in Bruxelles. But ooooh.

Read more... )
taennyn: (Loki)
Sleep happens to other people. >.>
taennyn: (boy mine (and me))
(We started dating Easter Weekend 2007, I suspect on the Sunday but possibly the Monday. We got married Easter Saturday two years ago.)

I've made much worse choices in my time.

Happy anniversary, mine, whenever you see this.
taennyn: (fruits of the harvest)
So back in 2010, I ordered a limited edition Arcana Soaps perfume. It was Monsieur Lapin ("A wild jackrabbit blend of warm ginger, black vanilla, Atlas cedarwood, bergamot, soft musk, cardamom, a pinch of patchouli, and a tiny nip of oakmoss."), and my complaint at the time was that on my wrists, he smelled of lemon and cedar, whilst on my cleavage, he smelled of carrot cake. A lot.

Fast forward to 2012, and my ordering a second bottle for Veggie.

Fast forward again to 2014, and the renaissance of the journalling perfume geeks, which inspired me to mine in The Boxes for the collection of vials and bottles, and our determining that while she still liked the '09 era Monsieur, Veggie did not like the '12.

So I brought the bottle north with me to hand over to [personal profile] gingerschnapps for testing purposes.

Her wrists smell like lemon and cedar. :D
taennyn: (fruits of the harvest)
There's a list of why, of course, but the two major reasons are my particular scent sensitivities/problems*, and an expression of my physical disabilities: I can't open more than five of the standard sample vials without starting to splash perfume all over my fingers and tweak my bad hand.

Ye Details )

Judging by the number of real bottles involved, Arcana Soaps is my independent perfumery of choice. I mostly buy from The Soap Box Company.

Judging by number of imps, it's Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, but then going by imps whose collection isn't dominated by BPAL?

(Speaking of: sing out if you want a list of the BPAL imps--I can pretty much promise I'm not invested in any of them considering how hard they are for me to open. They're all old; nothing newer than 2011 and most probably in the '07-'09 range. Lots of city names.)

Following Arcana and BPAL is ZOMG Smells, who have some truly delightful names for perfume. Not the easiest descriptions to work from, unfortunately, which limits my ability to order from them in comfort.

Ye Babble on the perfumes I actually wear )
taennyn: (Loki)
You see, I was really, really wanting to get my permanent residency application sent in this turnaround. I wouldn't have to stop at the border to get my passport stamped (for the third time since February), I'd be pretty close to the date I quoted the border guy when he gave me a Visitor Record. Everything would be good. I just needed a couple of things to show up in the mail (a tax document, the Giant Pile of cell phone statements, and the Letter of Employment from Zach's current company). Easy, yes?

I even bugged people for letters of recommendation last week so as to get Everything Together and Ready To Go.

The tax doc came, and got copied, and is in the appropriate spots in the application paperwork.

The Giant Pile of cell phone statements got canceled (by the company, without telling us, because Zach 'wasn't notified of the cost' when he made the order. Despite him doing the math in his head at the time, and again when he called back going '... Guys? I kind of need those statements you told me "5-10 business days" 14 business days ago.' =|), and is again on the way.

The Letter of Employment is . . in the wind.

I have never wanted universal tracking numbers so badly in my LIFE.

I just want to get this stupid thing done, so the waiting can start!
taennyn: (amber mala)
Hmn. M's let me wander through and sniff/apply her Le Labo samples.

My pulls from her collection were the Santal 33 and the Ambrette 9, with an intention to sniff the Fleur d'Oranger 27, the Bergamote 22, the Neroli 36 and then see if vetiver still smells like 'nope!' in the Vetiver 46*.

*: Spoiler: yup!

Read more... )

*deadpan*

Mar. 14th, 2014 06:40 pm
taennyn: low-angle view of a woman in folded-up jeans and green shoes walking along a railroad track. (Dorothy's got nothin' on these)
There's a reason I've bought penguin-printed wrapping paper.

(There was a store selling penguin-shaped gummies for a while. Several packages may have come home, so as to give people actual penguins.)
taennyn: (one of these days I'll fall on my head)
Setup, to save eating reading lists )

I was expecting a rather needly appointment. Instead we wound up talking about the limbic system* and how breathing pattern/depth/speed and eye movement/blink rate can tell an observer how someone's doing.

*: I know this term is getting outdated, so if anyone has an update, please let me know!

This is going to be somewhat babbly and nonlinear, since I can't find a good internet source to paraphrase from, and may be wrong in the particular tiny-level details of why this works because I wasn't taking notes Monday. That said, I did a pilates session before I saw her Monday, and a second session yesterday afternoon, and my body shifted between 'em.

By staring, breathing, and humming.

I wish I was kidding. I'm not: instead of pulling on my diaphragm and my pelvic floor to do ab work, I got a broader sense of less-ouchy work through more of my belly, and I could use my iliopsoas muscles like they weren't welded to my inner curves of hipbone. o.O

So, limbic calming. It's a thing.

--

Plotting against your lizard brain, a primer )

--

Related reading: A Dr Stephen Porges interview on his polyvagal theory and methods on using other humans to calm an Inner Lizard/trying to help calm someone's Inner Lizard.

a babbly post I made after reading the Porges interview talking about acoustic therapy protocols for anxiety, and noting a new term for the 'I'm driving a meatsuit with bad controls' problem: 'sensory processing dysfunction'.

-

Questions, corrections, links, and New People are welcomed to this post. So yes, if you want to link people here, that's cool. :)

le babble.

Feb. 12th, 2014 10:45 pm
taennyn: (no-one's idea of a mona lisa)
I'm always a little surprised to discover there are Agatha Christie novels I either haven't read, or can't remember reading.

(For context: you could ask Veggie about the time we started playing a Miss Marple movie and I nope!-ed out after about five minutes when I realised which story it was. For the record, I hadn't reread the novel in question for a good seventeen years, in part because I disliked it. You'd still think a decade-plus would be enough of a reset button!)

Y'see, my family went on winter vacations. And I read faster as a child than I read now, so I always burned through the supply of books in my baggage about a week into the trip, so we'd go to the local library.

At the time, the local library's collection of fantasy and science fiction was . . . . sort of abysmal. But their mystery selection--assuming you found omnibuses as long as your forearm and considerably thicker than your tiny, squeaky wrists acceptable, which I did--wasn't too bad. Old, but not bad.

So I'd haul these giant black books along to the beach, and read English murders with sunscreen and salt sticky fingers while trying not to burn my tiny, squeaky shoulders to a rosy crisp.

As one does.

Read more... )
taennyn: a woman's upraised, tattooed arm touching the nape of her neck (paper-flowers and arabesques)
I was in getting needled* around lunchtime today, and the last one was a lateral-hip. She'd asked me if I was still feeling off anywhere, and I pointed, so whee, needle.

*: as you do

And then said "Oh, neat, that feels like you're on the back wall of the ball and socket joint!"

And even without my glasses I noticed her sort of blinking at me as she replied "I've never had a patient like you. Because I was on the back edge of the capsule. And you're describing exactly where I was."

Apparently most people don't get a feel for these things after five years of physio? I got nothin'.

Owie.

Jan. 31st, 2014 04:43 pm
taennyn: (one of these days I'll fall on my head)
Hokay, so. Through the luck of the draw, I managed to get in to see my ex-pat Aussie physio twice in the last couple weeks (Thursday last week, and today).

I really enjoy seeing her. She's terrifyingly good at what she does, and is seriously active in her field.

Which in this case means she got a chance to get IMS* training recently. And offered to try it on my upper thoracic, since I'd mentioned the IMS treatment I'd been getting in Vancouver was being great for the hip stuff, but I was just sort of scraping by on the arm and shoulder symptoms in terms of functionality.

*: intra-muscular stimulation. I babbled about it some here

She approaches IMS the way she approaches everything--she pins down her target very precisely, and then *happens* to it.  )

Last week I wasn't able to weight-bear for plank or pushup because I couldn't seat my arms into my shoulders down into my core last week (to the point I had to switch to minimal-depth wall pushups the day the Aussie went after my left teres complex. Holy shit my shoulder was mad).

Yesterday I did the best plank and pushup I've ever done. My arms were working but my triceps weren't burning, and my pectoral muscles weren't shrieking about the offenses carried out against them. I felt steady enough in a plank to try bringing a knee at a time up towards my chest. I didn't fall over.

My scapulae move. I can bring my shoulders lower than I can remember ever being able to, and the crunchy grindy feeling when I try to bring my scapulae together on my back is remarkably reduced.

Apparently teres was a major player in my lack of shoulder mobility.

Go figure. O.o;;;
taennyn: low-angle view of a woman in folded-up jeans and green shoes walking along a railroad track. (Dorothy's got nothin' on these)
I am now 30, as of Sunday, which is kinda cool.

(Infinitely better than 20 was, that's for sure. I did make some awesome friends that year, even in the depths of scholastic despair. *waves to almost all of flist*)



I've been wandering around today in a pair of boots and a leather jacket I bought in Russia in 2000. I keep trying to retire the jacket (if nothing else I am just slightly bustier than I was when I was 16) but no dice yet. It's just so damn familiar, and the pockets sit in the right spot. =P
taennyn: (teh laughing fierce one)
"I guess I can't do yoga while I'm wanted by the police . . . "


"Actually, you can be a little bit pregnant."
"Like, Schrodinger pregnant!"


"Ooooh! Are we french braiding his dreads? We could do a coronet!"
"... I've never worn that look before. . . "


"Where's a guy gotta go for entertainment?"
"... Davie Street?"
"*pause for massive snerk* I don't think I can bring Edmonton to Vancouver."


"Carolyn, extract yourself from the pineapple and come get stuff!"


"I've never had antlers before."


"I could be Skeletor for you . . ."
taennyn: (no-one's idea of a mona lisa)
"Salt, salty salty salt salt--"
".... Please tell me I don't have to worry about you preserving eggnog in salt now."


"I've got traps and barbarians."


"Okay, we have two chickens. The first has salt, garlic and thyme, and the second--"
"--is covered in eggnog?"


"No, no, that was my ear throwing something at me."


"Uh. . you've won the game."
"Oops."


"I've got these great rooms, but I can't lure anyone into them."
"Yeah, that was my problem. Then I got clerics."


"Eat my chicken butt, Veggie."


"You don't really have a box to waggle, do you."


"This isn't the boy, this is a middle-aged man!"
"Oooooh, another boy!"


"My tongue was helping me reach!"


"Why are your boobs space-dead?" .... "Why are your boobs randomly spaced?"
taennyn: (Loki)
Don't carbonate eggnog in a Soda Stream.

Learn from my husband's sticky, sticky mistakes.
taennyn: (once sawmills and strawberry farms)
I'm in fine fettle for staying up for New Year's.

Really, truly excellent fettle.

Naturally, this also means that I am slightly useless before 8:30am.
taennyn: (*glee!*)
So I've complained, at length, about the stupid security tab in the Subaru.

It directly contributed to the problems starting the car, not least because it was gradually corroding to the point that we'd graduated to needing to turn the key in the ignition while at the same time leaning down to not just press the security tab to make contact, but actually twist the tab so the most-corroded portion made contact.

No more.

Read more... )

*!*

Dec. 9th, 2013 09:17 am
taennyn: (nature sez hi)
One of the advantages of living somewhere that just doesn't normally get snow (doesn't generally get cold enough/stay cold enough, due to the Lady Pacific being a giant temperature regulator) is that when you wake up in the morning and squint blearily out the slider to find the sky spitting slightly spiteful tiny white flakes, your response is "Oh, neat" instead of "Oh, for fuck's sake, again?"
taennyn: a fluffy black cat looking Unimpressed (the Beast)
I've added the links, and the latter section was sent about seven minutes after the first, but otherwise, I typed this in bed, on the Widow.

To: Veggie

Guess who's still difficult to sleep around.

No, go on, guess.

He's trying to bend my forearm through sheer force of purr so he can cuddle my head instead of charging. But wow, shades of the past.


.... The snoring is much cuter when it's not conducting into your forehead. Or drooling.

The sleep purring is kind of cute, though.

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