My house caught on fire, and now it has wasps and ducks.

November 26, 2025November 25, 2025 J.1 Comment

Hello! It’s… uh. It’s been a while.

The past few months have been pretty intense. I downgraded my WordPress hosting, because I found that I wasn’t using many of the benefits of my upgraded package. This sounds simple, but, in reality, required a lot of back-and-forth between three chat bots, some emails, and a discussion forum. Either way! It’s all sorted now and, if anything breaks in the near future, it’s entirely because I’m messing with themes and colors again.

Now, as for the rest… I vended at my first in-person event this year! It was a great experience, I sold a ton of artwork and sculptures, and I’m very happy.

Then, shortly afterward, my house caught on fire some. I was sitting in the bath when I smelled something like melting plastic. I checked the bathroom window, but it definitely wasn’t coming from outside. When the smell intensified, I asked my Handsome Assistant to see if he could track it down.
He came running back with a fire extinguisher, there was smoke everywhere, cats were evacuated, fire department was called, and I sat in the driveway for a while chatting with friends on Discord because I’m pretty sure that was the one thing tethering my sanity in the midst of all of the chaos at that particular moment.

Anyhow! Everyone’s fine and the house is habitable. However, as a public service announcement: Do not leave your bathroom vent fans on when you’re not around, they are absolutely capable of subterfuge. As it turns out, our basement bathroom vent fan’s wiring blew out in a rather spectacular fashion. Like, flames. Melted insulation. A scorched gas line. If we hadn’t been home, or I hadn’t smelled it when I did, it would’ve been a catastrophe. As it is, it’s just been a very stressful series of inconveniences – including having no heat for several weeks.

Also, yellowjackets live in the walls now. This is totally unrelated to the fire. They just saw some gaps around the powerlines and decided it was free real estate, and now they live there. Sometimes they get into our bedroom. I woke up gently spooning one this morning.

If circumstances were different, these guys would’ve died off with the first frost as they usually do. Since they’re living in the walls, they’re here to stay. Or at least for way longer than my Handsome Assistant and I are comfortable with sharing a space with them. I don’t mind stinging insects, but as far as housemates go… I mean, they’re not great.

Lastly, we have ducks!
We did not initially intend to get ducks.
My Handsome Assistant likes the idea of having egg-producing pets, despite the fact that neither of us eat eggs. (It is his latent Ohio prepper sensibilities.)
These are not egg-laying ducks.

What happened is a friend of ours rescued some ducklings from Tractor Supply. It was the end of the season, the store can’t return them to the breeder, so they just… had these unsexed ducklings. Friend took them, since friend already has necessary ducky infrastructure, and the ducklings grew into three handsome Rouen drakes and one lovely hen.

(Pause for sounds of dread from people who have kept drakes and hens before.)

Duck mating is… Let’s call it “hardcore.” It’s dangerous for the hens at the best of times, and that’s even with a good ratio of drakes to hens. Which is about 1:3-4 at minimum, not 3:1. So, friend needed to find a home for these drakes before the spring breeding season rolls around. If no one took them, they’d have to make the difficult decision to cull the drakes for the safety of the hen, which they really didn’t want to have to do.

So, bleeding heart that I am, I decided we were going to keep ducks.

And honestly? It’s been great. We built them a run and a coop, set up a pool, gave them a separate water source, and feed them a variety of fresh foods alongside a healthful prepared diet. They’re three handsome Rouens, and they’re also a lot of fun. They get excited when I walk outside or talk to them through the window. They wag their tails and bob their heads. They’ll eat treats from my hand and listen very well when I tell them it’s time for bed.

Three ducks with bright green heads and gray bodies eat black soldier fly larvae from a person's hand. — *Left to right, Marcus, Eddie, and Robert.*

… Alright, they listen well when I walk in and say, “Alright handsome boys, it’s time to go eepy-sleepy’! Ready? Let’s go!” In high-pitched parentese like a demented Disney princess.

We’ve only had them for a little while, and I already love them. There’s Marcus, the crested one and the smallest of the three. There’s Robert, the second largest and boldest. And there’s Eddie, the largest and the unwitting target of Marcus’… affections.

Ducks, like many other animals, will mount each other in a display of dominance. So, much like a high school transfer student, Marcus has apparently decided that since he’s in a new place, it is time to try to be the Cool Important Duck. A strategy that would make more sense if he weren’t shy and less than half the size of Eddie.
Eddie’s mostly just confused by the tiny hat-wearing maniac trying to climb on his back.

So, my time a way has mostly been dealing with housefire remediation logistics, rebuilding, setting up duck infrastructure, and finding a way to get the wasps out of the walls.

How are yous all doing?

Blog · life · Uncategorized

A riverside hike (with giant mushrooms!)

April 25, 2025August 20, 2025 Leave a comment

This past weekend, my Handsome Assistant and I packed a small picnic and went for a bit of a walk. This particular area is beside the northwest branch of the Anacostia River, near an abandoned mica mine. There are some really cool mineral specimens here — the usual bull quartz, but also tons of mica-bearing rocks and golden beryl.

That’s not all it has, though.

The trail is mostly shaded by trees, so it stays fairly cool even when the weather’s warm. Lesser celandine (lush, but invasive) covers the ground between the trees, creating a dense carpet that reflects the sunlight and further cools the ground. It’s poisonous to eat, though the tubers are said to be edible, and has a long history of use as a topical medicine for hemorrhoids and scrofula.

A brown haired, caucasian man in a dark blue and white tanktop reclines on a bed of lesser celandine. His eyes are closed and his expression is peaceful. — “That’s a really bad idea, you know.”
“I know, but it looks **so soft**.”
“There’s probably poison ivy in it.”
“Worth it.”
“You’re going to get eaten by snakes. Or ticks. Probably both.”
“It’s **so soft**, though!”

A close up of a small pink springbeauty flower. — *Springbeauty (Claytonia virginica)*

Fortunately, there was more to see than just lesser celandine. There were tiny pink blossoms of springbeauty, dense pillows of moss, fern fiddleheads, and some of the lushest skunk cabbage I’ve ever seen. We also spotted some mayapples, a few of which were even mature enough to flower. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to go back and see if there’s any fruit later this summer, but it was lovely to see regardless! (I snapped a few pics of the ones we saw, which you can find in my post on mayapple folklore and magical properties.)

Large skunk cabbage plants growing up out of a dense mat of lesser celandine. — *Seriously, just look at that skunk cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus).*

We passed next to the water, eyes peeled for sparkly mica-bearing stones, when I heard a soft “bloop.” I turned my head just in time to see a startled common watersnake (Nerodia sipedon) slipping away across to the opposite bank, gracefully undulating and occasionally poking its head up like a snorkel to take a breath. I apologized for spooking it as I fumbled for my phone but wasn’t able to snap a picture before it had swum away and camouflaged itself in the mud and fallen leaves.

They’re one of the species of snakes that are often vilified for no reason. They’re perfectly harmless but can bear a passing resemblance to a venomous copperhead (Agkistrodon contortrix). Admittedly, I made the same mistake myself at first glance — not that I would’ve behaved any differently, as both the snake and I seemed pretty chill about the whole situation. Like black racers and ratsnakes, they’re guys you actually want to have around if you don’t want to have to deal with pest animals. Also, they’re one of the few reptile species that gives birth to live young, and that’s really neat!

(Also, copperheads are pretty chill, too. They might be venomous, but they’re not aggressive. Their first defensive instinct is to freeze up and rely on their natural camouflage. Bites typically occur when that either fails, or people don’t see them, step too close, and the snake gets desperate.)

A pair of young fern fronds, still curled into a "fiddlehead" shape. — *Young ferns.*

A little further up the trail, we were navigating over a large fallen tree. Another tree lay across it, forming a kind of steep natural bridge. As I investigated it to see if it’d be safe to cross, I heard a silky rasping sound. There, nestled in the root ball of the fallen tree, I saw the shiny black coil and pointed tail of a black racer (Coluber constrictor priapus) vanishing deeper into the tangled roots.

My favorite part, however, was running into a colony of dryad’s saddle (Cerioporus squamosus) growing from a dead tree. These are edible, fairly easy to identify, and don’t really have poisonous lookalikes. They also smell exactly like watermelon rinds, which is honestly very weird. Kind of a green, watery, fruity smell, of decidedly not the type you’d expect from a scaly tan mushroom growing out of a dead tree. I wasn’t 100% positive that that’s what I was looking at, at first. Fortunately, a combination of a quick-and-dirty ID app and friends with much more foraging experience were able to reassure me.

Also?

Dryad’s saddles get enormous.

A fallen tree sporting several large dryad's saddle mushrooms.

A person's hand resting on top of a dryad's saddle mushroom. The mushroom displays the characteristic scaly brown and beige pattern and is very broad -- easily two hands long.

Like, far larger than I felt was reasonable for a mushroom. Much bigger than the reishi and armillaria that grow in my front yard, at any rate.

This area has another cool feature, labeled on the map as “prehistoric rock shelter.” I haven’t found any other information about it, but it’s a nice, cool, shaded spot to sit and rest for a bit. The area underneath is at a bit of a slope, but it’s still a comfortable place to take a break.

The author and their Handsome Assistant sitting together under the rock shelter.

My Handsome Assistant, pretending to hold up the rock shelter. The "shelter" itself is a very large, flat boulder jutting up at an angle, creating a kind of natural awning over a bare patch of soil.

I also found a tree that was shaped kind of like a sad skull, and a very neat feather — most likely from a hawk.

The roots of a large tree. They seem to form a pair of eye holes on either side of a triangular nose hole.

A brown and white barred feather laying on some lesser celandine.

All told, it was an eventful walk and a lovely picnic. Everything was vibrant and green, and we saw (and heard!) a lot of cool wildlife.

Here’s hoping you’re also finding cool things wherever your adventures take you.

Blog · life

Ready for the Economic Blackout

February 28, 2025February 27, 2025 Leave a comment

Hello! By the time this is posted, it’ll be February 28th, the date of the US Economic Blackout put forth by The People’s Union USA. While a few key companies are the targets, participants are being asked to pause all discretionary spending for the day or, if that’s not possible, to only support small, local business.

My Handsome Assistant and I knew this was coming up, but it didn’t really take much to prepare. It mostly entailed making sure we have enough food to cook for the day. It’s a workday and we work remotely, so we’re probably just gonna do what we do on most Fridays — pasta, video games, guitar, and books. Maybe watch a horror movie or two.

I did end up deleting the Nextdoor app about this. It already wasn’t great about sending me notifications about things I actually wanted to see (messages sent directly to me, for example), but unfailingly showed me every absolutely dipshit hot take about the blackout and I was a hair’s breadth from saying something actionable. I’m not trying to go to jail for fistfighting some pudding-faced guy named Duke in my front yard over his undying devotion to Amazon.
That’s just no way to spend a weekend.

A fangy-toothed cat sleeping upside down. — *I have no idea what image would be appropriate for this sort of post, but all of the blogging guides say I need to have one. So, here’s a sleepy chunk.*

My Handsome Assistant and I have also been paring back our spending in general already, partially because it’s become increasingly difficult to shop in good conscience, partially to prepare in case someone ends up out of work, and partially to avoid “lifestyle creep.” It’s been a whole Thing of deleting social media accounts, cancelling various subscriptions, and migrating to providers that are somewhat less objectionable. Inconvenient, yes, but I’m feeling pretty optimistic about it.
Even if I wasn’t, it’s just the kind of spite that I gleefully latch onto on like a starving lamprey, so I’m gonna feel all warm and fuzzy inside either way.

I’m not a minimalist by any means, though I fully support those who feel happy and fulfilled with that lifestyle. I do enjoy the challenge of No Buys, mainly because I really like developing new skills (and learning to make things is something that I feel like everyone should get more of). This year, I’m doing a clothing No Buy. I have items I actually do need, so I’m making an allowance for limited secondhand items like jeans and boots, but everything else I have to make (or repair, dye, etc.) myself. I have one or two very specific niche items that have been on my list since last year, and they’re handmade from small businesses, so they’re the only new articles that I may allow myself when the time comes. Otherwise, if I want something that badly, I’ve gotta learn the skills necessary to make it.

I want to do a No Buy for house things in general, but we’re moving a bunch of stuff around and have a whole other room to furnish into usability, and not enough other furniture to do so. So, there’s probably a bunch of thrift store hunting and scraping Buy/Sell/Trade listings in our future until that’s handled.

I’m also Project Panning all of my personal care items, mainly because I have a small bathroom and want to keep products to a minimum. (To be fair, my Handsome Assistant is a bit more of an offender here than I am. The man is absolutely Johnny Bravo about his hair.) This’ll let me see what I actually need, what’s redundant, and what manufacturers produce the products I use the most often. For example, I’ve found that I like Narayan Gel better than Tiger Balm.
I’m also not sure how to feel about the fact that I’ve become the kind of person who has strong opinions about muscle rub.

Even if you aren’t able to pause all of your spending today, there are things you can do to make your impact felt. You matter, and so do the goods and services you consume. The more you actively try to support small, local businesses, the more of your money stays in your community, supporting things that directly impact your daily life. Megacorps are cheap and convenient, but this is subsidized by the exploitation of their workers and suppliers. Bezos and the Waltons don’t need any more of your money, but your community does.

Blog · life

Human Words for Human People

February 14, 2025February 13, 2025 1 Comment

Years ago, people wrote about the “dead internet theory.” It’s the idea that humans on the internet are a bit like habitable exoplanets — tiny islands in a vast ocean of mostly nothing, where that “mostly nothing” is made up of bots. Now, it’s half conspiracy theory and half grim joke on the continued enshittification of content creation. Whether it’s the coordinated effort of state actors or the natural consequence of the drive for automation and engagement, it seems like we’re hurtling toward a dead internet on a rocket cycle.

So, I’m here to tell you that this blog is entirely human-generated. I come up with the ideas myself, I outline them myself, I research them myself, and I write them myself. I either use my own photos or seek out those by human photographers. When I’m researching, I avoid sources that appear to come from generative AI. The only parts of this process that’re automated are basic grammar, spelling, and SEO compliance checks.

Close up photo of notebook with pen, with some crystals and a dried orange slice on the notebook for some reason. — Photos like this vignette of a pen and journal with *squints* crystals and a dried orange slice, I guess. Photo by Alina Vilchenko on Pexels.com

I don’t know who to attribute it to, but I read a great comment not long ago: “How could I be bothered to read something that nobody could be bothered to write?” It’s simple, but it stuck with me. If I can’t be bothered to write something, why should I assume that anyone would bother reading it?

There’s also the fact that I genuinely enjoy making stuff. I like writing. I like making art. I like learning new skills and using them to create things. I can’t imagine automating any aspect of this, because I don’t understand what the point would be. I’m also disabled in a way that makes creating things legitimately difficult. If someone can lose the use of their arms and re-learn to paint using only their teeth, I can sort myself out.

In my experience, arguments in favor of content creation using generative AI seem to come largely from a desire to be someone who has created something, not the desire to create something. This isn’t a strange belief, either — not everyone enjoys the messy, ugly phase that every creative project goes through in the beginning, when the words are unedited, the colors are flat, the melody hasn’t come together, and the bread hasn’t proofed yet. I just think the answer lies in finding a different means of self-expression, not in getting an algorithm to do the hard part.

Every weird turn of phrase and wack idea present here is entirely organic. They’re products of my experiences filtered through my sideshow-quality mind.

(This also means I’m sometimes slow to respond to comments, soz.)

Enjoy, I guess?

Blog · Just for fun

Cozy Horror Picks for October

October 8, 2024October 7, 2024 J.Leave a comment

I like cozy horror. No jump scares, just a deeply unsettling vibe. The more it blurs the lines between fiction and reality, the better. I like my horror weird, too. Surreal. Like taking a nice walk down a country lane on a soft drizzly morning and encountering something gray and viscous moving toward you that may once have been a deer.
That kind of thing.

These are my favorite pieces of cozy horror, perfect for an October afternoon:

1. I am in Eskew

I am in Eskew is a surreal horror audiodrama that follows the life of a man living (or trying to) in an ever-shifting city that seems bent on tormenting him. Every episode is essentially an audio diary, narrated by one (and eventually two) voices with the sound of rain in the background. It’s very weird.
It’s very unsettling.
It’s also weirdly soothing.

This series is also complete, so you don’t have to worry about waiting for new episodes to drop.

2. The Codex Seraphinianus

The Codex Seraphinianus is an illustrated guide to an imaginary world, complete with indecipherable writing. Why is the writing indecipherable? Because it’s meant to be — it’s asemic, and intended to convey the wonder and mystery of a child “reading” a book they don’t yet understand. While this book isn’t exactly horror, I’ve included it here because it does create a delightfully unsettling atmosphere — like a discarded relic from a complete, complex, fully fleshed-out world that you don’t understand, never knew existed, and operates entirely differently from your own.

3. Modes of Thought in Anterran Literature

This is another audiodrama, and it’s just delightful. It’s delivered as a series of lectures (and some assorted other recordings here and there) given by a professor who was once a big name in classical studies, but seems to have gone off the deep end. Upon getting tenure and the permission to teach one class of his choosing, he created “Modes of Thought in Anterran Literature” — a class dedicated to analyzing the literature of a long-dead society.

Anterra is also the world’s oldest civilization, tens of thousands of years older than any other recorded society. It was completely unknown until a Chinese submarine sank in the Pacific, coming to rest nearly on top of an Anterran city.

The character of the unnamed professor is engaging, but also soothing enough to make this a decent podcast to sleep to. There are virtually no jumpscares here — just the creeping dread of uncovering the secrets of a dead civilization, including what caused them to mysteriously collapse.

4. The Magnus Archives

The Magnus Archives is an episodic horror anthology, though all of the stories are connected by common threads. The Magnus Institute is an organization dedicated to studying the bizarre. Jonathan Sims, the Institute’s new head archivist, sits down to convert hundreds of written records to audio and, when necessary, add follow-up notes based on research by his team.

Individually, the stories are spooky enough. Once you get deep enough in, a bigger, much more frightening picture starts to emerge.

5. Welcome to Night Vale

Night Vale is a sleepy desert town with some… interesting characteristics. Welcome to Night Vale is an audiodrama in the form of a nightly news show. Hosted by the very soothing-voiced Cecil, it blends the surreal and the macabre with the everyday.

I first got into Night Vale when I was living in California, shortly after being diagnosed with intracranial hypertension. I was severely disabled at the time, unable to leave the house (or bed, most days). Night Vale kept me company, kept me entertained, and provided the perfect blend of humor, horror, and relaxation that I needed.

6. Junji Ito’s Cat Diary: Yon & Mu

Yon and Mu are two cats owned by renowned horror manga artist Junji Ito and his wife. The cat diary details Ito’s life as he adjusts to living with two cats — but, because it’s him, the illustrations are hilariously unsettling. He uses exaggerated horror to illustrate some of the most mundane aspects of living with a cat, and the end result is often more funny and heartwarming than frightening.

7. Weeping Cedars

Weeping Cedars is an audiodrama in the form of a documentary on the small upstate New York town of Weeping Cedars. It’s the site of more than its share of group violence and hysteria, but that’s not the strangest part. The town also seems to just sort of “forget” all of these tragedies, so nobody notices that things have developed a strangely cyclical — possibly even predictable — pattern.

The documentarians try to uncover the lost secrets behind these events, but is it too late? Can they do more than just sit and watch as things continue to unravel?

8. The Last Movie

The Last Movie is an audiodrama set in the same universe as Tanis (one I probably would also recommend, but sadly not beyond the first season or so). Nic Silver and MK investigate the existence of an underground — and possibly cursed — movie.

It’s short, self-contained, and very good if (like me) you’re a fan of cursed media.

9. The Dark Pool

The Dark Pool is another audiodrama, this time set in Maryland. A college professor and a group of students engage in a series of meditation exercises, and record their follow-up conversations. However, as the series goes on, it becomes terrifyingly apparent that there’s a lot more going on than just learning to quiet the mind. As the experiment continues, they begin experiencing bizarre phenomena. Will they be able to break free, or have they already gotten the attention of something they can’t escape?

Here’s hoping your autumn is equal parts cozy and strange!

Blog · life

In Pursuit of a Paleontology Enthusiast Antiquarian Vampirologist, Part II

September 18, 2023September 17, 2023 J.Leave a comment

In case you missed the first part of our adventure, you can find it here!

We showed up promptly at 11:10 AM, still unsure of what we were getting into. Once we stepped out of the car, we were almost spoiled for choice — there was a small sculpture garden immediately in front of us, with some very lovely statuary.

A replica of Michelangelo's David, with a small image of a bird hanging in front of his junk. — Including a very modest David.

Signs directed us to the Dinosaur Park, which we eagerly followed. They led us past more statuary, into an area populated by large, brightly colored dinosaur statues. They were kept in their own pens made up of neatly trimmed hedges and garden fences, interspersed with large, bright mushrooms, a vintage carousel horse, and a spiraling labyrinth that ended in a gazebo at the center of it all.

Along the edges, the border between “Dinosaur Park” and “Sculpture Garden” got a bit blurry.

Outside of the Dinosaur Park, the grounds were immaculately kept and full of flowers. There were ponds covered in bright pink and white water lilies, and bushes spangled with flowers and butterflies.

A pair of small snail statues on a stone sphinx throne surrounded by bright purple flowers. — Also snail royalty.

A close-up of a similar throne. It features ornate arms supported by a pair of small sphinxes. — A closer look at a similar sphinx throne in a different material. I’ll be honest, I kind of want one to put under the maple tree in the back.

A bamboo forest with a pair of Imperial lion statues in front.

Everywhere we walked seem to have something new to look at, to an almost disorienting degree. I know the outdoor area wasn’t that big, but we did manage to get turned around here and there.

There was even a large stand of bamboo guarded by a pair of stone Imperial lions.

What was most interesting, however, was the mix of materials. Some of the more whimsical statuary was made of cast concrete or gaily-painted fiberglass, but many of the larger pieces were carved stone. Take a close look at the pair of busts in the image below — all of the armor, clothing, et cetera is made of carefully fitted-together stone. None of it is painted. There were pieces in alabaster, marble, quartz, and granite, all of them uniquely beautiful.

A dolphin fountain flanked by a pair of bronze horses and elaborate busts.

Once we were done getting lost in labyrinths and jumpscared by the occasional clown statue, we headed inside. The bulk of the antique shop was in a large barn, about half of which was taken up by a workshop.

The first floor was a dinner party set for invisible guests. The walls were hung with heavy curtains in silk and velvet, punctuated with carved stone statues. These, like the busts above, wore outfits of carefully selected and fitted-together stone, cut and carved so their graceful limbs could show through.

A pair of bronze eagles battle in front of a panel of frosted glass painted with ornate flowers and botanical motifs.

Of to the side, there was a selection of brass candelabras, smaller sculptures, and stained glass.

In the center, there was a large, broad staircase. The top was dark — dark enough that I wondered if it was actually off-limits. There didn’t really seem to be anyone there other than us and a handful of employees… did anyone even know we were there?

Eventually, our curiosity got the better of us. We quietly crept up the stairs, though there were no lights and the temperature seemed to grow more oppressive with every step.

I was very glad we had.

The top floor of the barn was absolutely full of treasures. Carved four-poster beds hung with silk brocade. Velvet chaises. Oil paintings the size of my bedroom, framed in gold leafed baroque style. Panels upon panels of stained glass.

A large oil painting, marble bust, velvet sofa pinned with a white lace antimaccasar, and heavily adorned cabinet. — Everything in this picture is about two hundred years old and worth more money than I will ever see.

The only light came from a large window at the front. The sunlight streamed down through it onto a grand piano, illuminating dust motes that sparkled like glitter. There was also a pair of life-sized sculptures holding massive, branching lamps of brass and crystal.

A photo of the description above -- ornate furniture in silhouette against a large window, flanked by sculptures supporting large light fixtures. Some of the chandeliers on the ceiling are adorned with faux butterflies. — This is probably my favorite picture I’ve ever taken of anything.

At one point, I think I saw the owner. He passed through the room swiftly, so I didn’t get a good look — just a glimpse of his back and a faint whiff of oakmoss and vetiver.

My Handsome Assistant attempted to track someone down, and did manage to talk to one of the employees for a bit. According to her, the Vampire and Paranormal Museum is in the process of reopening in one of the houses on the premises. The owner was very secretive about it, however — he was remodeling the whole interior, and hadn’t allowed even his closest friends to see it. It wouldn’t be open until later this year, most likely in October or November.

Even though we didn’t get to speak to the man himself, or see the actual museum, we were satisfied. To be honest, just browsing the antiques felt like looking at a clandestine immortal’s collection of stuff, so I left feeling like I’d been to a vampire museum anyhow.

When we went to leave, a peacock prevented me from getting in the car. It was both completely unexpected, yet entirely appropriate. I guess if you’re going to have a Dinosaur Park, you need one or two alive ones.

A large male peacock stands between the viewer (me) and a silver car.

All told, 10/10 experience. Would sidequest again.

Blog · life

Maybe it’s like an emotional support hornet’s nest.

August 14, 2023August 13, 2023 J.2 Comments

I try to coexist with stuff. I really do. I don’t like confrontation, and I’ve found that even the most noxious weeds or aggressive creatures are usually helpful for something. The yard is full of edible weeds, bees, and predatory bugs, and life is pretty good. I don’t mind spiders in my house. I very carefully evict the occasional confused grass-carrying wasp or pipe organ mud dauber that wanders in.

And then there are the yellowjackets that built a nest right above the front door. There’re these two little gaps in the porch roof that didn’t really seem deep enough to say “hey, homestead in me,” but I guess I was very wrong about that. The end result? A ceiling crevice jam-packed with wasps.

During their initial building stage, they were preoccupied enough that I barely noticed them. Really, I spotted one or two flying to that spot and didn’t think much of it. When I noticed a dead yellowjacket laying on one of the leaves of the passionflower vine growing on the porch railing, I had… concerns.

When they began to get a bit more territorial, I had more concerns. If they’d built almost literally anywhere else, it would’ve been fine. The shed? No problem, just move the important stuff to the other shed, keep the door closed, and wait to clean up during winter. In the yard somewhere? Also not an issue, they can be territorial against other wasps and are pretty easily avoided by humans.

This wasn’t our first brush with yellowjackets, either. A ground-dwelling species built a massive nest in a hollow under a tree stump in the front yard. This, again, wouldn’t have been an issue were it not for the fact that people had to walk there, and the yellowjackets appeared to have very mixed feelings about the whole thing. The deal appeared to be very much the same with the ones in the porch.

My partner and I could avoid them because we knew they were there, but what about visitors? Delivery people? Mail carriers? I wasn’t trying to be the reason why an Uber Eats driver trying to make ends meet had to pay for an emergency room visit, you know?

I put in special delivery instructions a couple of times — “Wasps have taken over the porch. Please go to the side door. I cannot overstate how many wasps there are, and they are all so angry” — and keep my fingers crossed that the delivery people actually followed them. I would’ve gone out there and put up a physical sign, but that would’ve required them to get close enough to read it, and also actually going outside to tape something to an area actively swarmed by yellowjackets.

A pair of yellowjackets construct a nest in the angle formed by two wooden beams. — Like this, but with more rage.

And so, we called our Wasp Guy.

His name is Mohammed, and he is, unironically, the straight-up rawest dude I know. His company claims to provide environmentally friendly pest control, and I’m like 90% certain it’s because he just suits up and sort of… confiscates unwanted hives and nests and such. He has a huge (vacant) hornet’s nest he keeps in his van. For fun.

The man is also an absolute surgeon. If he’s there to handle a wasp nest, those wasps will be handled (probably literally) and the neighboring pollinators will never find out. None of my carpenter bees were harmed in the removing of these wasps, and still happily follow me around like dumb little hoverpuppies. The anise hyssop and coreopsis are absolutely packed with miner bees, sweat bees, honeybees, you name it. Even the ants that hang out on the passionflower on the porch (they treat the nectaries like some kind of tiny insect TGI Friday’s) seem just sort of fine with everything.

A frozen Charlotte doll in a small wooden box adorned with fragments of vacant wasp nests. — I just thought this looked cool, to be honest.

While I’m not happy we had to remove the yellowjacket nest (they’re an important predatory species for pest bugs, and, since they tolerate the cold a bit better than bees do, they pollinate early spring flowers!), I know there’s a point where insect territoriality and human territoriality collide. I’m just glad that this time was handled quickly, easily, and with minimal disruption to everyone else.

Just maybe try to build in the old maple tree or the shed on the hill next time, okay guys?

Blog · crystals · life

“Fine, but I’m not getting any more rocks.”

March 23, 2023March 22, 2023 J.Leave a comment

I knew it was probably a lie the moment the words left his lips.
Still, I didn’t really intend to buy anything, I just wanted to go to the local mineralogical society’s mineral and gem show for kicks. We didn’t have any other plans, it was close by, and tickets were like six bucks. Why not?

I’ve also wanted to learn more about our local geology. Maryland has an interesting state mineral called Patuxent River stone, which is a form of agate that I think is a lovely, almost luminous color. I really want to find some in the wild, but the minerals I’m most likely to encounter where I am are white quartz, mica, beryl, and serpentine.

With all of this in mind, spending an hour or so at a local rock show seemed like a nice way to pass some of the afternoon. Also, sometimes there are interesting bony boys to look at.

A fossilized skull of a Merycoidodon culbertsoni.

A portion of the fossilized jaw and teeth of a Dinotherium giganteum.

The fossilized jaws of something very large.

This was before my partner saw the big geode cracking machine. I also think they’re very cool — I was used to getting tiny geodes as a kid and cracking them open with hammers like a tiny caveman, but all I’d get from that is a lot of small, shattered pieces. These machines use a large metal chain, shaped like a bike chain, that applies even pressure to a small area around the geode. They’re similar to soil pipe cutters but have a wheel that allows you to tighten the chain a bit more easily. The end result is a geode that cracks much more cleanly, usually in two halves that follow the natural features of the stone, so you preserve a lot more of that beautiful internal structure.

We talked to the owners of the machine for a bit, asking about the origins of their geodes (remember, always know where your crystals come from) and their mineral composition. That’s the nice thing about shows like this: The people there are super stoked to talk about crystals.

In the end, we decided on two geodes — one large one that was filled with tiny, sparkly, sugary-looking white quartz crystals (and a few double-terminated ones, too!) and a smaller one that seemed to be smoky quartz and blades of either calcite or selenite. They’re gorgeous!

A geode made of layers of opaque brown and transparent black crystal. In the very center, there are flat blades of clear, sparkling crystal.

The show also had some fascinating displays of fluorescent minerals, insects, fossils, and really nice specimens of minerals that had been collected locally (or semi-locally, within a few states or so). Upstairs, where the dealer’s tables were, there were beads, handmade jewelry, carvings, and several gorgeous and very high-end specimens for sale.

Several shelves of minerals under a black light. They're all very bright, unnatural-seeming colors.

A specimen of clear quartz with halloysite.

A blue-green mineral specimen with some botryoidal features, possibly wavellite.

A photo of a flat of mineral specimens, including agates and fluorite.

A wooden case of preserved moths. They're shades of brown, cream, and orange, and many of them have large spots on their wings that look eerily like eyes.

In addition to the two geodes, we came away with a trilobite from Ohio. I have named him Tobie.

If you’re into geology, like fossils or minerals, or are even into crystal healing, I can’t recommend local gem shows enough. In Michael Gienger’s book Crystal Power, Crystal Healing, he talks about the role that your local geology can play. For example, the effect that living in areas with specific minerals can have. If you’re not learning about what’s around you, you’re doing yourself a disservice.

It’s also just really nice to talk rocks with people who are super into it. Even if you’re not necessarily so, it’s just cool to listen to someone who’s both knowledgeable and passionate about something.

If you’re a collector or crystal enthusiast who’s concerned about the environmental and ethical considerations of your hobby, then local shows are also a huge help. Most of the specimens we saw were clearly labeled with their place of origin. A lot of them were domestically collected, usually by the people selling them. There was a transparency that’s hard to get in a lot of (though certainly not all) conventional crystal shops. Some of the people there have brick-and-mortar stores, too.

These events also often support local hobbyist groups, and are a great way to meet other people in your community. Now that we’re actually setting down some roots here, it just feels good to be involved in stuff like this, even if it’s just as a spectator.

So yes. Support your local mineral people. They rock.

Blog · life

“I mean, I’m neutered. I don’t understand how this happened.”

March 14, 2023March 11, 2023 J.1 Comment

It’s often said that orange cats all share custody of a single braincell. This isn’t meant disparagingly; they just have a certain dopey je ne sais quoi.

Nowhere is this more apparent than in Pye’s reaction to JJ.

Sure, he started out with the standard territorial huffiness when she first got here. Once she’d gotten her first round of baby shots, some antibiotics, dewormer, flea drops, and ear drops (she really had basically every parasite and minor problem a stray kitten could have), we decided it was time to test the waters of actual introduction.

Kiko wants nothing to do with her, but she doesn’t seem to want anything to do with anyone who isn’t my partner or me. So, no surprise there.

Pye seemed… baffled? Like here is this tiny creature, who appeared out of the ether, and holy crap is this where kittens come from? I can see the wheel wobble-spinning in his head. He’s neutered. How did this happen? How did he accidentally a baby??? help

Well, no matter. What’s done is done. If there’s one thing this magnificent himbo fool apparently doesn’t want to be, it’s a deadbeat dad.

A small gray cat and much larger orange cat look out of a window together. — He teaches her the ways.

I’ve read that it takes on average eight months to a year for cats to become friends. I think he managed it in three days. They play together, and it’s genuine play. If there’s ever a growl, a whine, or a hiss, it’s quickly sorted out and they go back to playing. My partner was nervous about this — the first time one of them hissed, he wanted to separate them again. I stopped him with the reassurance that this was not only okay, it was a positive development. They’re new playmates, and they need to discover each other’s boundaries and learn how to navigate them. The only way for them to do that is to communicate between themselves and interfering would only hamper the process. JJ needs to learn to play nicely, and Pye needs to learn how to play with someone so much tinier than he is. Sure enough, half a second later they were back to chasing each other.

He’s also tried to groom her, though he seemed to very quickly discover that ear drops taste awful. Nonetheless, he is a dutiful boy and persisted in cleaning this small, weird, somewhat gross child.

The cutest part is when he gets tired. He’ll lope away, go lay down somewhere, and trill at her to follow him. JJ, being a font of infinite chaos energy, does not do this. Instead, she watches him and decides that what she should actually be doing is chewing on his face.
He puts up with a lot.

A close-up of a pair of cats. A small gray kitten lays on her back, paws pushing on the fluffy cheeks of a much larger orange cat. — Like, a lot-lot.

It’s also really cute to see the ways that he accommodates her. He lays down to be at her level, rolls on his back, and bats at her slowly. He chases her into the closet, and, as soon as she emerges, he trills and goofily bounds away so she’ll chase him. Seeing the give and take between this 20 pound orange dumbass and this cheeseburger-sized stripéd hellion is honestly really heartwarming.

Now, we just have to work on Kiko.

art · Blog · life

This is Isabella, Isabella, Isabella, Isabella, Isabella, Isabella, Isabella, and Isabella.

May 30, 2022May 29, 2022 J.Leave a comment

Saturday, my partner and I went antiquing. Though I keep a short running tab of vintage/antique objects I’m looking for (brass candlesticks, salesman’s cases, small wall mirrors, picture frames), we shop like magpies. Our collective style could best be described as “maximalist,” but I feel like that implies a level of cohesion and intention that your average corvid probably isn’t capable of. The only unifying theme is “stuff we like.”

Usually, it goes like this: One of us sees a thing. They point it out to the other. We name it and freewrite an entire backstory for it. If it evokes enough emotion, we’re probably going to try to bring it home. We’ve done this with everything from live plants to… Well, I’ll get to that in a minute.

There’s a spot in Kensington, MD, that’s antique shop upon antique shop. It’s one of the places we like to hit up periodically, just to walk around and browse. Sometimes we find some neat stuff, sometimes we just end up making up stories about the people in old portraits. It’s always a lot of fun either way.

When we walked out of one shop, we passed through a small alleyway between two buildings.

“Stopstopstop. Don’t move,” my partner said.

“What?”

“There’s a boy,” he pointed to a little huddled mass of feathers. It took me a bit to spot him: a house sparrow, sitting in the middle of the pavement. Something looked off, so I approached him cautiously. When he didn’t try to fly away, my heart sank.

“I… don’t think he’s gonna care if I move.” I bent down and held my hand out. He startled a little, but still didn’t fly. I gently stroked the patch of black on his chest and looked him over — ruffled and broken feathers, one eye squinched shut, a skinned patch on the top of his head, and a dazed expression.

We crouched near him as we called wildlife rescues, though I had my doubts. Sparrows aren’t native here; they’re even considered invasive agricultural pests. Would a rescue even take him in? If they did, was there anything they could do? Nobody picked up at the various numbers we called. I also knew it’d be a bad idea to try to take him home and nurse him back to health, especially without a way to keep him secluded away from both of the cats.

Carefully, I scooped him up in my hands and carried him to the shade of a bush. It wasn’t much, but there were bugs to eat there and he’d be out of the noon sun.

A bit later, when we were eating at deliCLUB, I jumped up. I had a water bottle and a small quantity of yellow cake with buttercream… Not ideal, but maybe it’d do.

“I have an idea,” I said.

A few minutes saw us on our hands and knees under the bush, carefully pouring out some water into a bottlecap and breaking off tiny bits of cake. I knew it wasn’t the optimal diet for an animal that’s doing poorly, but I know I also probably shouldn’t’ve eaten my weight in lime gelatin when I was in the hospital, either. We nestled the bottlecap in the mulch around the bush’s roots, and made a little pile of cake crumbs (sans frosting) beside it. I didn’t see him try to eat or drink, but I didn’t want us to hang around too long, either. He’s a wild animal, scared, vulnerable, and possibly in pain. No matter what we did, our presence was going to cause more stress to an already highly-stressed creature. Without a better way to care for him, we left him in the safest place we could find with a little food and water.

Torn about the decision to leave him behind, we finished up and headed home. This time around, we’d picked up a silk top, a floor-length silk robe, ornate chopsticks, a typesetter’s drawer, and a folding screen.

I mean, I guess it’s a folding screen, though the words “folding screen” don’t really do it justice. It’s a hand-carved, painted screen made to look like medieval art. We don’t know if the artist intended to depict a specific person or just generally evoke the feel of medieval-to-Renaissance period portraiture, but they repeated her carved portrait eight times. I call the woman Isabella, because she just looks like one to me. In some, Isabella looks amused. In others, bemused. In one, vaguely sad. In a couple, angry. These don’t seem to be intentional on the artist’s part, just the product of subtle differences in the grain of the wood. The natural texture produces a furrow in a brow, the subtle downturn of a lip, or the course of a tear down a carved cheek.

My partner spotted the screen in a corner and pointed it out to me. I was immediately intrigued. (Baffled, also, but mostly intrigued.) I’d never seen anything like it before and doubted I would again. It gave me flashbacks to this fantastic couch I’d spotted in a thrift shop once years ago– a Neo Rococo-style chaise longue in polished mahogany, upholstered in ochre crushed velvet with silk fringe. It was the most beautifully bonkers piece of furniture I’d ever seen, and I’ve always regretted not buying it when I could. I didn’t want that to happen here.

A little haggling and a few minutes of rearranging things and figuring out how to fold seats down (why are the levers in the trunk?), and we were headed home with the screen in the back.

When it comes to objects I own that are potentially haunted, I feel like this has the highest probability. As soon as we got it/her/them home, I immediately lit some incense and fumigated everything we brought in.

“If this object houses a malevolent spirit, you need to get the fuck out. If you’re cool, you can stay. Repeat: No evil spirits. If you’re neutral or benevolent, you can hang. If not, leave my house now!”

I keep hearing footsteps and the rustle of taffeta, but I’m sure it’s nothing.

More pictures once I’ve placed their majesties in a suitable spot.