Tag: life

Grassassination, a Year and a Half Later.
life · Plants and Herbs

Grassassination, a Year and a Half Later.

J.3 Comments

It’s been a while since I’ve written about my ongoing battle against the lawn. It started with a tarp, then went on to solarizing, then sheet mulching, then replacing the unwanted turf grass with native groundcovers, to discovering some kind of gigantic alien mystery plant we didn’t plant that accidentally ended up being delicious.

So, since it’s been about a year and a half, how’s it going?

The grass hasn’t come back. Instead, the area is made up of (mostly) mulch, interspersed with some slow-growing moss phlox (Phlox subulata), bee balm (Monarda fistulosa), violets (Viola sororia), and echinacea (Echinacea purpurea) plants. Occasionally, I’ll find a patch of native wild onion (Allium canadense). The border closest to the house is made up of non-native strawberries, which the birds, squirrels, carpenter bees, and also I seem to enjoy. Along the front path, there’s thread leaf coreopsis (Coreopsis verticillata). In the center, there’s the little redbud tree (Cercis canadensis).

A white Phlox subulata flower.
A flower from one of the white Phlox subulata plants. These guys actually flowered pretty much all through winter!

There are also small mats of non-native “weeds,” like chickweed, purple deadnettle, and speedwell. These aren’t exactly what I was going for, but they do have several advantages over grass:

  1. I’m not allergic to them. Flowering plants like these are typically pollinated by insects. Grasses are wind pollinated. Wind pollinated plants are much more likely to be responsible for allergies, because their pollen ends up in the air (and eventually your eyes, nose, and lungs). This is also why bee pollen is generally not a great way to desensitize oneself to hay fever — it’s primarily made up of sticky, heavier flower pollens, rather than the wind-carried pollens that people with hay fever most commonly react to.
  2. They’re edible. Chickweed is actually pretty nutritious, and so is purple deadnettle. I’m not up on all of the nutrition facts and medicinal uses of speedwell, but I am assured that it is also edible.
  3. They’re not invasive enough to be restricted. While these three plants aren’t native species, they typically have pretty shallow root systems and aren’t super competitive.
  4. They require no effort. Unlike lawn grasses, they don’t need fertilizing, pesticide, weed treatment, or supplemental irrigation. While they’re not as beneficial as native groundcovers, they’re at least not a net negative like turf grass.
  5. They’re an early food source for pollinators and small herbivores. Since they’re not native to the US, they haven’t evolved alongside our native pollinators and thus aren’t really an ideal source of nectar. They do, however, provide more food that a mowed monoculture lawn does.
  6. Honestly, it looks better. I’m not a fan of the manicured look of suburban lawns. This spot has a ways to go still, but tiny blue, purple, and white flowers and multi-hued foliage beat grass any day.

Tiny blue speedwell flowers.
Itty bitty speedwell.

Should anyone run out and sow a speedwell, deadnettle, or chickweed lawn? No, not in the US. (Non-native clover lawns aren’t really a great idea, either.) Nonetheless, I’m in less of a hurry to eradicate these plants than I was to get rid of the grass. It’s reassuring to see other plants moving into an area that was once a mowed, lifeless monoculture.

And, if you’re an invasivore, you can always eat them.

Bright purple Phlox subulata flowers.
Some of the purple moss phlox. Oddly, these guys didn’t flower as resiliently as the white did. They’re putting out more flowers now, though!

This year, the plan is to plant more moss phlox and bee balm, and maybe another coreopsis or two. I’d also like to find a source for native strawberries. These grow in slightly different conditions to the cultivated strawberries you usually see in garden stores and groceries and are a good addition to “edible landscaping” plans. For now, I’m pretty happy with the progress this little patch of dirt has made!

The Return of the Great Big Ennui
life

The Return of the Great Big Ennui

J.6 Comments

Note: This post contains a brief mention of self-termination.

Hello! I’m mentally ill.

I’ve never seen the point of beating around the bush about it. As a child, I was taught that there was a stigma around mental illness, therapy, and medication (a lesson that, among many others, luckily didn’t take). It just didn’t make much sense to me — if my pancreas or thyroid didn’t work the way it was supposed to, and I needed medication to help me, would I be ashamed? Why is it suddenly different if it’s brain tissue instead of glandular tissue?

I also don’t use person-first language for myself. I don’t have a mental illness. I have jackets and shoes I can take off if I want to. I have hair I can shave off if it annoys me. I am mentally ill. I can’t take that off like an itchy sweater. I’ll use person-first langauge for other people if that’s their preference, but it’s not for me.

So, cyclothymia (sometimes known as bipolar III) is marked by periods of hypomania, alternating with a kind of depression I refer to as “The Ennui.”

Why ennui? I call it ennui because, for me, it’s a feeling marked by bone-deep, existential boredom. Nothing is exciting. Nothing is inspiring. The things I usually enjoy become thin, gray, muffled, and flavorless. I start to be afraid that nothing will ever make me happy or enthusiastic about life again. And every time, I begin wondering if I should “encompass my own demise,” as it were, and save myself some time.

I also call it ennui to trivialize it to myself. To name a thing is to gain a measure of power over it. To name a feeling of anhedonia so deep that it threatens my existence, and name it after something as unserious as ennui, helps shrink it a little bit. It’s a reminder that this state is fleeting — just a temporary eddy in my various brain sauces, however unpleasant it may feel.

This ennui happens completely irrespective of what else I have going on. It happens on its own inscrutable, irregular schedule, independently of my hormonal cycle, the time of year, or anything else. I could have an event that I’ve been looking forward to for months and, when I hit an ennui cycle, that feeling deadens completely. I could have absolutely no reason to feel down, sad, or uninspired, and my brain chemistry literally could not give less of a shit about any of that.
If it’s ennui time, it’s ennui time.

Fortunately (for a very questionable definition of “fortunately”), this has happened often enough that I know, on a logical level, that it’s temporary. I certainly don’t feel it in the thick of things — that’s where a lot of that worry comes from, the idea that this is forever and I will only ever feel this way for as long as I live. But it’s always been temporary before.

There’s no cure for this. There’s barely treatment for it. I use an SSRI to handle the symptoms of panic disorder, but those typically aren’t the best for your various bipolars. Nonetheless, I’d rather have to deal with periodic ennui than the absolutely brutal panic attacks I used to experience, so here we are.

(Because I know there are caring people out there who offer advice because they don’t want to see another person suffer needlessly — I have a very good supplement regimen and diet, based on some in-depth blood tests and the advice of my excellent general practitioner. My GP is also a psychiatric nurse practitioner, so I’m all good on that front.)

So, if I haven’t been posting as much lately, it’s because I haven’t been doing much lately. I go through the motions — cooking, cleaning, doing paid writing gigs, tidying up the garden, making plans in the hopes that I might one day actually care about doing them — but there’s a very deep sense of “why bother?” about it all.
What difference does any of it make in the face of eventual oblivion?
Will the heat death of the universe care if I get dressed or not?

If this sounds like you, or someone you love, remember this: It’s temporary. It won’t feel like it is when you’re in the moment, but it is. Eventually, it’ll lift. When it does, do the things you need to take care of yourself. Set up a simplified routine that you can follow, even in the midst of an ennui. It won’t fix it, but it’ll make it more bearable and keep you from backsliding and feeding further into that despair.

For me, it looks a little like this:

  • A simple exercise routine. At one point, all I could do was tai chi in bed, so I did that. Now, I do about ten minutes of stretching, and ten more minutes of literally any other intentional, somewhat vigorous movement. It’s not going to get me jacked or anything, but that’s not really my priority at times like this.
  • Several simple sets of clothing. My criteria were that they had to be inexpensive enough for me to have several of them, so I could rotate them and have clean clothes even when I wasn’t able to do laundry. They also had to be comfortable, but something that I could conceivably leave the house in if I absolutely had to. Lastly, I wanted something that wasn’t disposable “fast fashion” or made of synthetic fibers that would annoy my skin. I decided on a set of recycled silk caftans, and they’ve worked out really well for me.
  • Simple, reasonably healthy food that requires very little energy to prepare. Sometimes, when I feel The Ennui coming on, I make a big pot of lentil soup or kitchari and a loaf of bread to last me through the worst of things. Other times, I eat a lot of stuff like this instant split pea soup. It has a simple ingredient list, plenty of protein, fiber, and potassium, and not a ton of salt. Open it, plop it in a bowl, microwave, done. I also like having a bottle of vegetable juice, some kind of protein powder, shelf-stable plant milk, and a fortified breakfast cereal on hand, just to fill in the gaps.
  • Simple hygiene. A low-maintenance haircut and uncomplicated skin- and haircare. Trader Joe’s facial cleanser and some jojoba oil. Lip balm. If I feel up to it, some hyaluronic acid serum. Moisturizing body wash, so I don’t need to bother with lotion. Even when I don’t have the energy for anything else, it at least keeps my skin clean and feeling okay.
  • A pill organizer. My memory is very damaged from pseudotumor cerebri at the best of times and seems to get worse when my mood dips. A pill organizer ensures that I don’t miss anything and accidentally make myself feel even more terrible.
  • Something to listen to. It doesn’t really matter what it is. I prefer listening to YouTubers or podcasts, only because having a person talking as background noise seems to be more helpful than music alone. I like:
    • ManlyBadassHero, for very relaxed horror game playthroughs. The games might be scary, but the videos very much aren’t. They’re chill and funny.
    • Zachary Michael and Zachary Michael Also, for reaction videos. Zachary Michael can be a bit polarizing (people seem to either love them or can’t stand them), but I enjoy their videos. They’re upbeat, funny, and often very heartfelt.
    • WiLLo Davis, for other reaction videos. Willo is also a musician, and the parody songs he makes to go with his videos are just *chefkiss*.
    • Dreamingofavalon. This channel has been more-or-less on indefinite hiatus for a long time, but their old videos are very lighthearted, upbeat, and uplifting. Lyn went on to start Desert Plants of Avalon with her partner, Hans. These videos have the same general feel as Dreamingofavalon does but are all about cacti and succulents.
    • SeizureRobot5000, for very specific reaction videos. SR5000 makes videos about musician, YouTuber, and dank food hacker Josh Saunders, alias KingCobraJFS, and they’re some of the funniest things I’ve listened to (especially the videos with Chauncey).
    • Robert Welsh, for makeup and beauty. I don’t care about either, but I could listen to him do deep dives into beauty companies all day. Some beauty industry controversies are bonkers.
    • I also like the Last Podcast on the Left. In particular, I usually listen to their series on Aleister Crowley when I’m feeling bad. Their cult, occult, and paranormal content is my favorite, but they also have a lot of true crime and alien episodes as well.
    • This Paranormal Life is a smaller comedy podcast put out by two best friends. In each episode, they investigate a paranormal tale, case, or claim and determine if it’s truly paranormal or not. The hosts’ chemistry and humor are fantastic, and I’ve loved every episode they’ve put out.
    • I’ve also gotten into watching Chinese historical dramas, like Ruyi’s Royal Love in the Palace. I don’t even necessarily watch the episodes in order. They’re just beautifully costumed and full of intrigue.

Remember, any self-care worth doing is worth doing badly. I may not be able to home cook meals, but reasonably healthy packaged food is better than no food at all (or eating half a jar of olives while standing over my trash can). I may not be able to exercise, but a few minutes of stretching or walking in place is better than not moving at all. This is one situation where half-assing something beats the alternative.

I don’t know if this will help anyone, but it helps me. Remember, this feeling doesn’t last forever. It doesn’t even last all that long, though it can certainly feel like it. The trick is to have a simple plan in place so you can properly take care of yourself in the midst of it all. Set this up when you don’t need it, so you can lean on it when you do.

… And then, somehow, we came out ahead.
life

… And then, somehow, we came out ahead.

J.Leave a comment

Remember when my Handsome Assistant’s car got stolen? And we found it because of a pair of sunglasses? And it came with free Takis?

Anyhow, we went through the whole rigamarole. Talked to the insurance. Talked to police. Had it towed to a place. Had it towed to another place. Had it checked out, then towed to another place for Reasons, I guess.

Long story short, the cost of fixing the damages exceeds the value of the car. It’s totaled.

Even longer story short, this is possibly the best thing that could have happened.

Look, we’re cheap frugal people. We try to live below our means. He doesn’t take out loans or buy new cars because the way that car valuation works is bad and silly. I don’t take out loans or buy any cars because my eyes are mostly decorative at this point. We make it work.

This is how he was able to haggle a really good price on his last car. Couple that with trading in the car that got poisoned in Mississippi, and the total that he’d paid is actually significantly less than its value. Like, it would cost more to replace the car at its current book value than he originally paid for it.
And, depending on how the law shakes out, we might still be able to trade in or sell the totaled car (for parts, but still).

“But Jec,” you may be saying, “You guys’re still out a car, and that sucks.” And yes, you are correct. It is less than optimally convenient.

However, after the Mabon celebration (where we accidentally gatecrashed a youth group, my Handsome Assistant almost got hypothermia, and we ended up sleeping in the trunk), we came to the conclusion that it might not be a completely terrible idea to look at other models of car once this one bit the dust. I suggested a wagon, because we could use the extra cargo space. He wanted a hybrid or EV. We kind of shrugged it off for the time being, because his current car was working fine and we weren’t in any rush.

Now, not only do we have a reason to look at cars that better fit our needs, but we also have some extra dosh to do it with.

I don’t know how we ended up benefitting from what is, objectively, a really sucky situation, but I’m happy. ᕕ ( ᐛ )ᕗ

I should get some Takis to celebrate.

Happy Imbolc 2024!
life · Neodruidry

Happy Imbolc 2024!

J.Leave a comment

Yes, it technically started at sundown yesterday, but it still applies.

According to traditional weather divination, we could be looking at a long, cold winter yet. Today’s a bit rainy, but yesterday was sunny and mild. A mild Imbolc means the Cailleach has made the weather pleasant so she can go out and collect enough firewood to last for the rest of the season. If winter were going to end early, she wouldn’t bother, and it’d be miserable outside.

A stack of firewood.
Mild, sunny Imbolc? The Cailleach’s out gathering firewood for a long, cold winter. Photo by Lum3n on Pexels.com

There are a lot of ways to celebrate Imbolc, but I’ve gotten into a nice groove of making it my spring cleaning day. It’s a time that makes me excited for the season ahead — I want a fresh house, a filled fridge and pantry, and some promising divination, you know?

I have a large Brigid candle that I lit last night, snuffed before bed, and lit again this morning. We’re cleaning and decluttering. There’s a loaf of fresh baked einkorn bread, a pot of soup, a pie, and a batch of cookies.

Most importantly, I’ve decided to rearrange my entire house so it stops making sense.

I was raised (well… “raised” seems a bit generous, but follow me here) to accept convention. When something seemed questionable or, frankly, stupid, I was told that that’s how it was done.
“That’s the style.”
“The other way would be wrong.”
“That’s silly.”
I feel that this has been instrumental in making me the spiteful pain in the ass that I am today.

My house is, like many other homes from the 1940s in this area, built in a Cape Cod style. It’s meant to be very efficient when it comes to keeping the hot sun out during summer and cold drafts away during winter, so it doesn’t have large windows. Fortunately, it faces the southeast, so we do still get plenty of light. The living room, where we spend most of our time, has a little eastward facing window. In other words, we end up missing out on the best light most of the day.

My studio, on the other hand, is a bit bigger than I need it to be. It also has a lovely west-facing window that lets in the most gorgeous sunlight in the late afternoon. The late afternoon that I usually spend in the living room.

“Self,” I says to myself, “Does it make more sense to keep my living room where it is just because that’s where living rooms usually go, or to move things around according to how we actually use these rooms?”

And this is why my living room is going into the bedroom-turned-studio, my studio is going into what used to be the living room, and we’re dedicating half of the living room-turned-studio-space to be a quasi-dining room. Yes, it’s confusing. It’s also a lot of work. I think it’s going to be very worth it, though.

As the land gets brighter and warmer, I want to (quite literally) bring more light into my life. Imbolc, for me, has always been about clearing, renewal, and preparation. I can think of no better thing than making room for more light and brightness here.

Brigid, Goddess of inspiration, fire, and healing, may you bring your brightness, warmth, and clarity to the rest of this year.

So, we went to the show!
art · life

So, we went to the show!

J.2 Comments

Last time, I mentioned struggling with imposter syndrome. Yesterday, my Handsome Assistant and I braved the cold (it is bonkers freezing right now, especially considering that it’s going to be like 60° F next weekend) and went to the opening of the art show.

The venue itself was beautiful (it’s history, not so much) and its tall ceilings, many windows, and twists and turns were very conducive to hosting a large art show without everything feeling too cluttered or busy. Sadly, I didn’t really get any pictures of the interior or the show itself (it would’ve been difficult to do without getting some of the possibly-unconsenting public in the shots) but you can see all of the entries here. Interestingly, the majority of them were portraits of people — there were fewer animals than I expected, though I did find one other lovely painting of a corvid.

The volunteers and other artists were all very nice, too. Everyone I spoke to was kind and helpful. We even ran into one of my Handsome Assistant’s friends, whose child had won an award for their work in the juried student exhibit.

While it was a nice outing overall (the artwork was beautiful and moving, the venue was gorgeous, and the rolling hills of the grounds were streaked with kids on brightly colored sleds), it was also pretty mentally exhausting. There’s a COVID surge, so being indoors in a group was a bit tense. I also felt a very acute sense of imposter syndrome. An inner critic kept telling me that I didn’t really belong there, that my work was only chosen to humor me, so I wouldn’t get discouraged and withdraw my membership. Anxiety turned what should have been a relaxing, inspiring day into a bit of an internal mess.

But still, we did the thing! As cold as it was, and as much as my various social anxieties kept urging me to pull out, we went and did it. All that remains now is to figure out how to make it easier on myself in the future and be more confident in my art. It’s something that’s much easier said than done.

I am not an imposter — I am an unstoppable trickster.
art · life

I am not an imposter — I am an unstoppable trickster.

J.Leave a comment

As I write this, JJ is playing with the snow I tracked in on my boots, while I am listening to pan flutes and drinking a smoothie to try to combat a killer bout of agita.

One of my paintings was accepted for a juried show starting later this month (it is this guy). This morning, my Handsome Assistant gave me a ride to drop it off at the gallery… By which I mean he drove me there and he went in to drop it off, while I sat in the car and tried not to throw up.

I’ve been through this before. I’ve entered shows, had my work accepted, and gone through the whole process, but, somehow, it still never seems to fail to launch me into a tiny existential crisis. I end up expending a ton of mental and physical energy to compare myself to other people, compare my work to other artists’, and make a carefully curated mental list of all of the reasons I don’t deserve to be there.

I know a lot of people have imposter syndrome and are probably doing the same thing. However, I am sure that they pale in comparison to my level of utter charlatanry.

But even that is a kind of talent, I guess. Maybe I don’t deserve to be where I am. Unfortunately, there are no shows for chicanery. There are no legitimate places where a skilled imposter can showcase their ability to fake a level of competence. Until there’s a place for the most impostery of imposters, maybe this is where I belong after all.

Snow Folklore & Magical Properties
Neodruidry · Witchcraft

Snow Folklore & Magical Properties

J.2 Comments

As I write this, it’s snowing. It’s a good snow, too — big, dry, puffy flakes. Kids have a snow day, and the hill in the back yard is covered in a good six inches of fluffy powder.

JJ has never seen snow before, so we tried bringing her outside to explore. She was curious, but also did not seem to enjoy the feeling of cold, wet paws. So, I brought her her own plate of snow, because we’ve got a washable rug and I’m full of bad ideas.

A small, adorable gray tabby cat paws at a pile of snow on a plate.

All of the plants are covered, branches bent under the weight of snow. Even the evergreens and the bright magenta beautyberries are hidden from view. So, I thought today might be a good time to talk about the tales, legends, myths, and magical properties of snow!

Predicting Snow

While not strictly related to snow, one of my favorite weather omens deals with cold winters: “Onion skin very thin, mild winter coming in. Onion skin thick and tough, coming winter long and rough.” The same is said of apple peels. Of course, this works best with local onions and apples — an onion grown in another country probably can’t tell you much about the weather in yours!

No onions? No problem. You can also foretell a cold winter by looking at walnuts and acorns. A heavy crop means a harsh winter. Similarly, thick shells on walnuts also warn of a cold winter.

A pair of acorns.
Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com

The seeds of American persimmons are also used to predict winter weather. If they’re shaped like spoons, you’ll have lots of snow to shovel!

Leaves that fall early predict a mild winter. Leaves that fall late (or worse — wither on the branch and don’t fall at all) predict a cold one.

Animals can also warn you about a cold, snowy winter. If their fur is thicker than usual, winter is likely to be a doozy. If squirrels stash their nuts up high, then you’re likely to see a lot of snow. If you live in an area with a wild turkey population, watch where they decide to rest. If they perch in trees and won’t come down, snow is coming.

If you see a woolly bear caterpillar, take note of the width of its bands. Caterpillars with especially wide middle bands predict a mild winter.

Mushrooms are yet another way to predict snowfall. If you see abundant mushrooms in autumn, then you’re likely to get a lot of snow. If mushrooms are scarce, your winter will probably be dry. This makes a lot of sense — mushrooms need humidity. If you have a lot of humidity in the cold months, you’re likely to get a lot of precipitation, too.

Supposedly, the date of the first snowfall can help you predict more. Whatever date the first snowfall falls on will tell you how many more snowfalls you’ll get that winter. (For example, following this logic, we’d be looking at fifteen more snows!)
Another variation calculates the number of snowfalls a slightly different way: However many days past Christmas the first snow falls, that’s how many you’ll have that winter. (Using this method, we’d be looking at twenty one.)
Yet another variation calculates the number of snowfalls using the date of the new moon. The date of the first snowfall, plus the number of days since the new moon, will tell you how many snowfalls to expect. (According to this, we’d be looking at twenty.)

Snow’s Magical Uses and Folklore

In Japanese folklore, there’s a snow spirit known as yuki-onna, or some variant thereof. This translates to “snow woman,” but she may also call herself “snow daughter,” “snow granny,” “snow hag, “snow girl,” or even “icicle woman,” depending on the region. There are many stories about the origins of these spirits, ranging from otherworldly princesses trapped on Earth, women born from snow drifts, or the vengeful spirits of murdered women. Yuki-onna is also associated with children, as multiple tales describe one holding a child, accompanied by a child, or stealing children.

Frau Holle, or Old Mother Frost, is a figure from German folktales. She is related to the Germanic goddess Perchta, and it was said that the souls of those who died in infancy went to her. She also causes snowfalls when she shakes out her bedspread and beats her pillows.

A frozen lake, with snow-covered mountains in the distance.
Photo by Riccardo on Pexels.com

Cultures all around the world have personified winter and snow. These include figures like the Cailleach in Ireland, Beira in Scotland, Despoina and Khione in Greece, Itztlacoliuhqui in Mesoamerica, Skadi in Norway, and Tengliu in China.

When it comes to the magical properties of snow, the most important thing to remember is that it’s water. It shares the same magical uses, it’s just in a more convenient, semi-solid format. You can draw runes or sigils. Snow is useful for beauty, purification, and healing, particularly emotional healing. Because of its ephemeral nature, snow is also helpful for banishing.

Using Snow

You can use snow in the same ways that you’d use water. If you like cleaning crystals or ritual objects in rain, collect some snow and use that instead. It works every bit as well!

Snow is also a great vehicle for sympathetic magic. If you’d like to banish something (or someone) from your life, collect some snow in a bowl or on a plate. Draw a representation of this thing (or, if it’s a person, write their name) in the snow. Put it in the sun, let it melt, and pour the water out far from your home.

Snow-covered mountains under a starry sky.
Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

If someone you know is creating problems for you, you can also use snow to get them to knock it off. (Assuming, of course, that pelting them with snowballs and shouting at them isn’t an option.) Write the person’s name on a slip of paper and place it in a jar or other lidded container. Pack the jar with snow, while you demand that this person piss off and stop troubling you. Put the jar in your freezer and leave it there until they go away. If you like, you can also ask the frost giants, spirits of frost, or your tradition’s frost deities to sit on them.

With the (sometimes radical) shifts in this region’s weather, my local area has experienced droughts. This makes an inconvenient amount of snow a very welcome sight, since that’s what’s going to replenish everything and help nurture new life come spring. Here’s hoping for a fruitful, abundant spring and summer this year!

And some free Takis.
life

And some free Takis.

J.2 Comments

After the car saga from the other day, the car was found. It was even mostly intact!

From the looks of things, the thief had brought a bat (probably to break a window, if need be). They ended up not using it, opting instead to rip the handle off the door and toss the bat onto the floor. From there, they tore off the ignition cover and used a USB cable to steal the car. It pretty much follows the exploits pointed out on TikTok beat for beat.

The good news is, the car wasn’t severely damaged. Believe it or not, it’s still drivable — as long as you don’t mind having to open the door without a handle and start it up with a USB cable. The bad news is that this kind of theft is so common that it can take a long time to get replacement parts, so the car’s going to be out of commission for a while.

My Handsome Assistant had just gotten the car detailed literally days before this happened, so it was really disheartening to see how grungy it is. There was half a bag of Cheerios on the floor. Empty soda cans. A dirty hoodie. Also, an unopened bag of Takis.

For now, we’ve got a rental via the insurance company. As frustrating and upsetting as this experience has been, in retrospect it’s also really funny. They tried on the sunglasses, and still never found the tracking tile in the case, for crap’s sake. They took the car for a joy ride, smoked a bunch of weed, and apparently ate half a bag of dry Cheerios! There is a comically tiny Little League bat! I can’t not find this hilarious!

A screencap of a messenger app. There's a series of photographs of a dirty car interior, including trash, a jacket, a baseball bat, a pair of sunglasses, and a bag of Takis. Below the photos, there's a brief conversation: "So they didn't break a window to get in." "Yep. And busted into the steering column." "Free Takis, though."

He left everything at the tow lot.

The Takis went uneaten. They weren’t opened or suspicious or anything, but it was the principle of the thing.

Fortunately, he also loses his sunglasses a lot.
life

Fortunately, he also loses his sunglasses a lot.

J.2 Comments

Someone STOLE the goshfucked CAR.

Okay. I admit. I can get a little lazy when it comes to warding things. I didn’t do anything to protect the car. I’m not even sure I could’ve made that much of a difference, considering my Handsome Assistant apparently owns what could be considered “the most stealable car in America.” Now, there are aftermarket updates to make cars more secure, but we only buy used cars and were unaware that this particular model came with the equivalent of a flashing neon sign that says HI!!! STEAL ME! :)))).

I’ll be honest. I don’t like cars. I never have. I love road trips, but if it was possible to do them entirely by train, I would. There are multiple reasons for this:

  1. My first significant experience was my mother’s Oldsmobile Firenza that used to stall out at every intersection, once got the interior rained on so bad that it smelled like vomit for a decade, and used to make me dizzy and carsick the second I sat in it. Even when it wasn’t moving.
  2. My second was wanting to eat/play with icicles like the big kids could. The only one my tiny little five-year-old hands could reach was a kind of lumpy, grayish one growing on the muffler of my grandma’s car. I snapped it off, licked it, and became violently ill for three days.
  3. My third was the time I thought a car accident had turned my dad into a zombie.
  4. My fourth most significant experience with motor vehicles was being run over by one.
  5. My fifth was dating someone who managed to wreck multiple cars over the course of a two-and-a-half-year relationship.

Cars and I have always had a wary, distant, reluctant alliance, at best. It has never really worried me, though. If anything, it seems appropriate. I’m too blind to drive, and I’m strongly against the idea of car-centric societies. It makes sense that cars’d have it out for me.

A large orange cat lays on his side in a sort of crescent shape, with one paw arching over his head. His tummy looks incredibly soft, and a pair of small, snaggly fangs peek out of his massive dumbass face. There are no thoughts here. Purely vibes.
I don’t know what picture to post with this. Here’s Pye, being a massive arcing chungus in my Handsome Assistant’s office.

Anyway, all of this is to say that I was gently woken up early Wednesday morning by my Handsome Assistant going, “Hey, Jeccas? Do you remember if I… did anything weird with my car yesterday?”

“Buh?” I replied.

(Because I have been mind-poisoned by the internet, I did not initially think “did anything weird” meant “parked it somewhere unusual.” My imagination went somewhere far worse, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Anyway, it turns out someone’d stole it. If there’s a thing I dislike more than cars themselves, it is having to have basically any contact with police ever. Now a car was making me do that thing. Even if all we wanted was for insurance to cover the loss, we needed a police report. Butts.

The same orange cat, photoshopped underwater. He appears to be wearing a snorkel and a pair of swim fins.
Here he is snorkeling.

The whole process pretty much turned my Handsome Assistant into Liam Neeson from Taken. He took his motorcycle out for a ride, half to calm down and half to see if he could find the car himself.

“They say that most stolen cars are found in the same area,” he pointed out.

He was only gone for a minute or two before he came back.

“You know, I just remembered something…”

My Handsome Assistant is both handsome and helpful. He’s very smart, good at his job, and a caring, attentive, equitable contributor to our relationship. He is, however, extremely forgetful. Between that and my own memory deficiencies, it’s amazing we haven’t burned the house down making pancakes yet.

Take his sunglasses. When he started working for his current employer, he had to make a few wardrobe upgrades. Not just suits and ties, but smaller things — a watch. Nicer shoes. Sunglasses. He started with a pair of Ray-Bans, which he constantly lost. Once, they were found in the attic by Pye, who firmly insisted on pointing out these weird, boring objects that very obviously did not belong in his play space. Now, he’s also got a less-fancy-but-paradoxically-much-more-expensive pair of prescription sunglasses.

To avoid losing them, he invested in some trackers. As long as they’re nearby, or at least near other trackers, he can see their location on his phone.

Since he only really uses his sunglasses for driving, he keeps them in his car.

The car that got stolen.

The same cat, now photoshopped into Michelangelo's "The Creation of Adam."
Here is Pye posing for Michelangelo.

Within minutes, he had found an entire location history tracking the car’s journey to an adjacent county. On the highway. Every house it had parked in front of.

After a few more minutes, he was triangulating locations and planning a sneaky drive past some of the places where the car had been.

“Please tell me you’re not going to try to steal it back.”

“No, no,” he assured me, “That’d be a bad idea. Besides, then I’d be driving around in a car that’s reported stolen, which would cause problems.”

He didn’t find the car itself, but he came back with a map of all of the places it could’ve conceivably been hidden overnight. A cluster of bushes. A covered driveway. Under a bridge over a small creek bed.

The same orange cat, now pictured cresting the water with a small whale.
Here he is with a whale.

Anyhow, the car was found yesterday morning. We also still have the (very fancy) rental that the insurance company provided for 50 days, so that’s neat. It’ll be a few days (the police still haven’t processed the original report) before he can fill out the paperwork to get it back, and we don’t know what kind of condition it’s in, but it’s found.

The tracking tag tracked the car all the way to the tow lot.
Thieving jerk never even noticed the sunglasses.

Elvenking is coming to the US! Kind of!
life

Elvenking is coming to the US! Kind of!

J.5 Comments

So, I use Spotify a bunch. I tried YouTube Music and wasn’t super into it, and I used to be into Pandora, until I wasn’t. As a result, Spotify likes to send me alerts about nearby events featuring artists that I follow. I have a very generous definition of “nearby,” however.

Anyhow, Elvenking is one of my favorite folk metal bands. I don’t think they have a single CD that I feel like I need to skip any tracks on. Every one’s a banger. Unfortunately, like many of my other favorite bands, they’re not from the US and so opportunities to see them are a bit thin on the ground. From what I gather, the last time they were anywhere in the US was sixteen years ago.

Imagine my surprise and delight when I discovered that they’d be playing in Pittsburgh, a mere three and a half hours away! (Like I said. Very generous definition of “nearby.”) Since I have no idea when I’d have the chance to see them again, I was stoked as hell.

And… then I realized that they were one of the opening bands for Alestorm.

Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy Alestorm. I’m not above pirate metal and their songs are genuinely fun. What went on behind the songs wasn’t. While Chris Bowes issued an apology, the article I linked points out a few things that seemed… hinky. Apologizing after the fact, because you got caught, also isn’t the same as shutting down disgusting (and, honestly, creepy) behavior in the moment. It’s also goofy as hell to try to pass that kind of thing off as a joke, also after the fact.
I’ve laughed at jokes in poor taste before. Hell, I’ve told jokes in poor taste before. But what the hell, man. This wasn’t humor, this was a bunch of middle-aged dudes being gross, racist weirdoes. Would the fans they were talking about think it was funny?

This isn’t to suggest that I think that Chris Bowes or the other members of Alestorm and Gloryhammer should publicly flog themselves. If other people are satisfied with the apology, or unbothered by the behavior that warranted it, that’s up to them. It did sour my enjoyment of music I once liked — way too much to be able to go, “eh, screw it,” hold my nose, and buy the tickets.

So now I’m left wondering what else to do. I have no reason to believe Elvenking endorses racism or misogyny. I don’t know if the members of Elvenking even know about what happened, or how much power they have in this situation. I don’t want to pay to see Alestorm, but I want to support Elvenking and show that there’s interest in them coming back to the US on their own.

As things are now, I’m going to give this show a pass, as much as it sucks to do. Bands make more money through merch anyway, so at least there are more efficient ways to support them than going to shows.

If we have our deck redone and the pergola up in time, maybe the Handsome Assistant and I’ll have a listening party when Elvenking’s next album drops. We’ve got the space and plenty of homemade mead. We’ll see.

I’m still feeling pretty salty at the moment, though.