Happy New Year
Jan. 1st, 2019 02:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lydamorehouseNew Year's day is the day we take down our Christmas/Yule tree and pack away the decorations.
This year is no exception. Though we did start in on the process a little bit yesterday, since we knew any big undertaking all at once would be too much for us. Normally, I find this process a little sad and emptying, but, this time, it restored a small sense of order.
Partly because we often use our downstairs bathroom as a place to store all the boxes and bins that the Yule stuff comes out of. Normally, this is a temporary hassle that is tolerable and makes more sense than dragging everything back up to the attic, only to drag it all down and back up again in a matter of weeks. However, with the very much needed addition of an emergency downstairs litter box, it was impossible to keep the floor clean of litter bits and everything just felt chaotic any time I needed to change the box or even just didn't want to bother to go upstairs to do my own bathrooming.
The decoration bins are now staged to migrate upstairs over the next day or two and then be tucked back into their corner in the attic. The rocking chair is off the porch and back in its spot as the guest chair. It was never MEANT to only belong to guests, but... well, funny story about that:
I have a friend Theo, who, when they were buying a house for themselves, got really into the theory of interior decorating. They read a book that talked a lot about what your furniture and style choices say about you and your family's values. They took one look around our cozy little living room, the three overstuffed chairs pointed towards each other in an intimate circle, and the weird, almost out of place rocker and nodded and said, "This house is house for three."
And they are absolutely right.
We happily entertain others, but in the end of the day, this house is a house for three. Possibly three HOBBITS, given the amount of food around the house. We have little stacks of books at our feet and blankets (and snoozing cats) everywhere. The house often smells of something baking.
In fact, I took bread out of the oven only a few minutes ago. I have a French bread recipe I always make as an accompaniment to our traditional wild rice soup for New Year's day. Wild rice soup became the tradition because the recipe we have--from my late stepbrother Mark--calls for BOTH turkey and ham, and we always have leftovers of each in the freezer from the holidays.
We have a pagan ritual we do every morning of the new year, too. Last night, some time before midnight, we find a dime minted in the current year and add it to our collection of dimes that are wrapped in a gold silk square. We put this symbolic "silver and gold" outside of our house and then, in the morning, we bring it in over the threshold to symbolize the act of bringing fortune to us in the new year. This has been our good luck tradition for years (we could probably count the years, given the number of dimes. At least 20, at a guess. I can't remember if we were doing this when we lived in Uptown before we bought this house or not.)
Do you have something personal like that, something to bring you luck in the new year?
I have to say, this is the first year that I've even heard of the whole "rabbit, rabbit" thing. But, I had two FB friends discussing it this morning. Despite my surname, I'm clearly not British (or American?) enough for this whole tradition.
Ms. Ball is still very, very weak.
She continues to go for food like a champ, but it's not clear if she can get enough nutrients to sustain her. I am trying everything I can think of, of course, but ultimately it's up to her. We have no plans to force feed her.
We decided, in one of our midnight crying jags that if Ms. Ball gives up, we will, too. No heroic methods. As my friend Naomi talks about, sometimes there's only things you can do TO the animal, not FOR them. And we don't want Ms. Ball to spend her last days--if that's what these are--being poked, prodded, and made miserable.
But, so long as she has fight left, we *will* fight for her.
In medical news, the Hell PoopTM seems to have stopped. Last night, she had one last ugly, foul squirt that seemed to end in something slightly less liquid. We can only continue to hope that this is a good sign and isn't coming too late for our poor, ravaged kitty's body.
We have a vet appointment on Friday and our new Science Doctor is suggesting that we keep treating this as if it is IBS, and, so, next steps may include a B12 shot, which is only funny since my wife Shawn also takes one of those once a month, so when he mentioned it, I could say, "Oh, to aid protein absorption."
Miss Ball's been sleeping more restfully, but it's so hard to know if that's a good or bad sign, given how weak she's been.
Keeping all fingers cross and all the wood is being knocked on.
This year is no exception. Though we did start in on the process a little bit yesterday, since we knew any big undertaking all at once would be too much for us. Normally, I find this process a little sad and emptying, but, this time, it restored a small sense of order.
Partly because we often use our downstairs bathroom as a place to store all the boxes and bins that the Yule stuff comes out of. Normally, this is a temporary hassle that is tolerable and makes more sense than dragging everything back up to the attic, only to drag it all down and back up again in a matter of weeks. However, with the very much needed addition of an emergency downstairs litter box, it was impossible to keep the floor clean of litter bits and everything just felt chaotic any time I needed to change the box or even just didn't want to bother to go upstairs to do my own bathrooming.
The decoration bins are now staged to migrate upstairs over the next day or two and then be tucked back into their corner in the attic. The rocking chair is off the porch and back in its spot as the guest chair. It was never MEANT to only belong to guests, but... well, funny story about that:
I have a friend Theo, who, when they were buying a house for themselves, got really into the theory of interior decorating. They read a book that talked a lot about what your furniture and style choices say about you and your family's values. They took one look around our cozy little living room, the three overstuffed chairs pointed towards each other in an intimate circle, and the weird, almost out of place rocker and nodded and said, "This house is house for three."
And they are absolutely right.
We happily entertain others, but in the end of the day, this house is a house for three. Possibly three HOBBITS, given the amount of food around the house. We have little stacks of books at our feet and blankets (and snoozing cats) everywhere. The house often smells of something baking.
In fact, I took bread out of the oven only a few minutes ago. I have a French bread recipe I always make as an accompaniment to our traditional wild rice soup for New Year's day. Wild rice soup became the tradition because the recipe we have--from my late stepbrother Mark--calls for BOTH turkey and ham, and we always have leftovers of each in the freezer from the holidays.
We have a pagan ritual we do every morning of the new year, too. Last night, some time before midnight, we find a dime minted in the current year and add it to our collection of dimes that are wrapped in a gold silk square. We put this symbolic "silver and gold" outside of our house and then, in the morning, we bring it in over the threshold to symbolize the act of bringing fortune to us in the new year. This has been our good luck tradition for years (we could probably count the years, given the number of dimes. At least 20, at a guess. I can't remember if we were doing this when we lived in Uptown before we bought this house or not.)
Do you have something personal like that, something to bring you luck in the new year?
I have to say, this is the first year that I've even heard of the whole "rabbit, rabbit" thing. But, I had two FB friends discussing it this morning. Despite my surname, I'm clearly not British (or American?) enough for this whole tradition.
Ms. Ball is still very, very weak.
She continues to go for food like a champ, but it's not clear if she can get enough nutrients to sustain her. I am trying everything I can think of, of course, but ultimately it's up to her. We have no plans to force feed her.
We decided, in one of our midnight crying jags that if Ms. Ball gives up, we will, too. No heroic methods. As my friend Naomi talks about, sometimes there's only things you can do TO the animal, not FOR them. And we don't want Ms. Ball to spend her last days--if that's what these are--being poked, prodded, and made miserable.
But, so long as she has fight left, we *will* fight for her.
In medical news, the Hell PoopTM seems to have stopped. Last night, she had one last ugly, foul squirt that seemed to end in something slightly less liquid. We can only continue to hope that this is a good sign and isn't coming too late for our poor, ravaged kitty's body.
We have a vet appointment on Friday and our new Science Doctor is suggesting that we keep treating this as if it is IBS, and, so, next steps may include a B12 shot, which is only funny since my wife Shawn also takes one of those once a month, so when he mentioned it, I could say, "Oh, to aid protein absorption."
Miss Ball's been sleeping more restfully, but it's so hard to know if that's a good or bad sign, given how weak she's been.
Keeping all fingers cross and all the wood is being knocked on.