When I can't talk about the thing

There's a thing I want to talk about. But can't, really. Not my story to tell. It impacts me and still, I can't talk about that bit without explaining this bit, which isn't mine. 

So we English talk about inconsequential things, like the weather. It's perfect drying weather. Sunny, warm, with a stiff breeze. Useful, because I seem to have caught a flea. All clothes, bedding, the washer hasn't been this busy in ages.

I love watching the silver birches in weather like this. The whole tree dances gracefully, serenely, and the leaves go bonkers. Flicking back and forth, flashing the reflective silver, then the dark green. Like a ballet dancer who just can't help doing Jazz Hands. All the time. 

We talk about illnesses. Of course, someone somewhere has it worse. I have a headache, I have a migraine. I stubbed my toe, my whole leg fell off and I had to hop to the hospital while carrying it. A mild exaggeration, perhaps, but I do actually know several people like that. One stops talking to them after a while, gets a bit more picky.

Ohey, I can add photos from my phone!
This is one of my friend's other cats.

My hand is better - I was trying to get some much needed (should that be hyphenated? Much-needed?) medication into a friend's cat. Wrapped him in a towel, knelt on the floor, cat between my knees. Problem is, you then need three hands. One to immobilise the cat by pinching his scruff (though I've seen a clip on YouTube where a vet uses a bulldog clip to do that, I didn't have one to hand). To hand. I'm so funny. A second hand to force the cat's mouth open, and a third hand to shove in the pill. 

It didn't work. Lightning fast, he twisted his head round, sank his teeth into my index finger and thumb of my right hand. I'm right handed. Of course he sank his teeth in that side. I washed it out, encouraged bleeding, all the things you are supposed to do. It still got infected.

Seems there are three reactions to the news that I can't use my right hand properly. Sympathy - Ow, I bet that hurts. Competitive grossness - When a dog bit my hand it turned GREEN and...[gory details]. And the Meh - ah well, you've got another one.

Long story a bit shorter, I had to go to the doctor's twice. The first time I was so relieved to get some antibiotics to take down the swelling, and was in so much pain, that I totally forgot to check if my tetanus is up to date! It is now. Good old amoxicillin, my old friend. I've had the stuff at least once a year since I was a baby (strawberry flavour, because bananas are horrid). Before Mum corrects me on that, I'm going on averages. There were a few years I didn't need any, but then there have been sinus and ear infections that took multiple courses. Plus a few that were penicillin resistant so got something a bit more exotic.

Modern drugs are awesome. 

So what do you talk about when you can't talk about the thing? I talk about everything else. I don't talk about the thing that might upset this or that person, because, while I'm not responsible for their feelings, I do get to help. I don't talk about the thing that someone did that really upset me. Because that might upset them. I call it my BigSister Mode. Trying to guess what everyone else is feeling, might feel, and protect and support them all. It's exhausting, and I could stop, I suppose. I don't really want to. It's who I am, since even before my baby brother was born.

Well, that didn't work.

I tried to put in a post about last year's Quilt Festival. There were four photos. It sort of froze, wouldn't update, lost all the changes and buggered off with all my words. Maybe I messed it up because I opened the blog on my tablet as well as my laptop. That might confuse the system.

Certainly confused me!

There seems such a lot to learn about and it is not sitting easily into my head. Which is weird. I'm used to things at least making sense, even if I don't learn all of it all in one go. I must remember that the first thing I crocheted came out ugly, tight and twisted. Maybe the first blog posts are supposed to do the same sort of thing. I need to make peace with the way my brain works in my 40s, after illness and brain weasels and CBT and... whatever else.

OK, so I add 'learn how to post photographs in a mosaic' to the top of the list of things to do.

Or I would if I had a list. I have too many things I need to make lists of!

Along with the Lifebook, Book of Days and Flow art lessons... more about those another time.

For now, let it be enough to confess that I am seriously over my head in terms of the number of art courses I have signed up for. Bought. Spent money on. It's a habit. It's not so bad as smoking or drugs, but I guess it's a problem because I'm feeling stressed out about something that is intended to make me feel better.

So what are you going to do about it, Caroline? I'm going to go have a shower, get dressed and maybe have a cup of tea.

And I'm going to hit 'publish' on this in it's current, raw, ugly form, because done and actual beats perfect and imaginary.

Damn it's hot

We are sitting in the shade on the patio, with a breeze, and it is still too hot to move. A family of kids a few doors the road have a large paddling pool or inflatable swimming pool. Some the the splashes sound really big. I want to hijack it.

But only if I don't have to go into the sunshine to do that.

So I'll stay here, with my feet on a chair, trying to ignore the extra heat being released by the ground.

Oh hey, I just added two photos direct from my tablet! Annnd removed the one I added twice. I learned a thing!

Hello World

Hello World! Or a small subsection thereof.

I have no idea what I am doing. Well, I have an inkling, perhaps, but little more than that. I like playing with words, I have a new camera that is intimidating, and will soon be embarking on an adventure. Some kind of journal for recording the adventure, sharing the experience and housing the photographs seemed a good idea.

"It seemed a good idea at the time..." This is a phrase that precedes a lot of fun stuff and good stories. We shall see.

Observation: It's really hard to get out of the habit of double-spacing after a full stop. This is irritating.

Who knows, I might even (finally) get my head around HTML. Usually I break it. Which is actually quite an achievement, considering how straightforward it actually is.