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Didn't want to be your ghost
1. Alan Turing has been pardoned. Better if it had been in his lifetime, but still.
2. My diagnosis of Raynaud's is official. I didn't go looking for it; the dermatologist this morning informed me that the problem with my feet is chilblains, asked me a question about my colitis and a question about the color of my hands in winter, felt their temperature after five minutes' walk through cold rain, and that was that. There's not much to do about it medically, as I'd thought; I'm not going to start taking vasodilators in winter. (I am going to invest in serious fucking socks.) Now I get to deal with a problem with my feet that I thought had gone out with central heating.
3. It is my grandfather's yahrzeit. Not by the Hebrew calendar, which would have been December 1st this year; but he died on the morning of the 24th in 2011, so my mother and I lit the candle this evening. I was in Lexington, decorating my family's tree for Wednesday. (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derspatchel and I do not have a tree of our own this year, partly because our house is still full of boxes, partly because it turns out that our driveway shrub disappears under a snowfall. It's become visible with the rain in the last couple of days, but I am still sad that we didn't at least run some rope lights around it. It would have been unequaled in pathos since A Charlie Brown Christmas.) It's a completely different tree from last year, but they always are. The star of David of heavy amber pressed glass—my grandparents' gift, my first ornament—still goes on the tree first.
I have yet another chip in my left front tooth. I spent most of today running around in the rain with Rob, buying candied fruit peel for my mother and books for a variety of people. I've had very little time to myself in some ways recently (and now we're heading into more holidays), but it was a good solstice this weekend; the sun came back. I didn't go away.
2. My diagnosis of Raynaud's is official. I didn't go looking for it; the dermatologist this morning informed me that the problem with my feet is chilblains, asked me a question about my colitis and a question about the color of my hands in winter, felt their temperature after five minutes' walk through cold rain, and that was that. There's not much to do about it medically, as I'd thought; I'm not going to start taking vasodilators in winter. (I am going to invest in serious fucking socks.) Now I get to deal with a problem with my feet that I thought had gone out with central heating.
3. It is my grandfather's yahrzeit. Not by the Hebrew calendar, which would have been December 1st this year; but he died on the morning of the 24th in 2011, so my mother and I lit the candle this evening. I was in Lexington, decorating my family's tree for Wednesday. (
derspatchel and I do not have a tree of our own this year, partly because our house is still full of boxes, partly because it turns out that our driveway shrub disappears under a snowfall. It's become visible with the rain in the last couple of days, but I am still sad that we didn't at least run some rope lights around it. It would have been unequaled in pathos since A Charlie Brown Christmas.) It's a completely different tree from last year, but they always are. The star of David of heavy amber pressed glass—my grandparents' gift, my first ornament—still goes on the tree first.I have yet another chip in my left front tooth. I spent most of today running around in the rain with Rob, buying candied fruit peel for my mother and books for a variety of people. I've had very little time to myself in some ways recently (and now we're heading into more holidays), but it was a good solstice this weekend; the sun came back. I didn't go away.
no subject
Chilbains! You poor thing. You need a footmuff and a pathetic woolly shawl, like a Darwin.
It's my mother's yahrzeit as well, by the Gregorian calendar. *hugs*.
"Our driveway shrub," bowed and dripping, should have been a Dickens waif.
Yowch! Sorry about the tooth.
Hope to see you and the sun.
Nine
no subject
That's about where I am. And now I hope the same clemency is extended to all men, even posthumously, who were convicted by the same unjust laws.
You need a footmuff and a pathetic woolly shawl, like a Darwin.
I can spend Christmas looking like Newman Noggs!
(I MUST SHOW MY HUSBAND NICHOLAS NICKLEBY BEFORE NEW YEAR'S MAN WE DON'T EVEN HAVE EIGHT HOURS OF SPARE TIME NONETHELESS ARGH TIME WHY IS THERE IS NOT MORE OF IT.)
"Our driveway shrub," bowed and dripping, should have been a Dickens waif.
It's adorable! And it's survived being parked over several times since we moved in, so we think it might even make it to the spring.
Yowch! Sorry about the tooth.
Dentist's office is closed till January 3rd. Naturally.
Hope to see you and the sun.
The sun is outside, looking fragile and warming, and