I'll be asleep before midnight.

 Happy New Year to the few, the loyal, the people who still read this old school backwater blog.

Christmas Besties.

 

Sorry for the poor photo, they were in constant motion.

Eddie met Sebastian on Christmas. He'd met him before, of course, but he wasn't as interesting then. Now Sebastian is interactive and likes to play with small dogs! They were in each other's faces every chance they could. Sebastian pulled Eddie's hair, Eddie didn't mind a bit. Eddie licked Sebastian's face, Sebastian enjoyed it. 

Best of all (for Eddie) was that Sebastian found Eddie's barking absolutely hilarious! He'd giggle like a maniac when Eddie barked, and Eddie totally understood he was making that baby laugh, so he kept barking. When he'd pause, Sebastian would make noises to encourage him. 

Eddie is never encouraged to bark. Eddie is very accustomed to hearing, "SHUT THE FUCK UP EDDIE!" yet, this wonderful small human never told him to STFU! He laughed and bounced in his bouncer and thought Eddie was the best thing ever! Eddie adored him back! It was the best day of Eddie's life!

Gidget watched this noisy mayhem from a safe distance. Her attitude clearly conveyed "BOYS!" with an eye roll.

After Sebastian went home and Eddie passed out for a long recovery nap, he barked in his sleep. No doubt reliving the thrilling experience of finally meeting someone who appreciates his vocal talents.

Mom still tells him to STFU. 

My daughter reported that when Sebastian got home he tried yelling at their dog, a big good natured mutt, who was quite confused about why he was being bossed around by the very small human. Now EVERYBODY bosses him around, poor dog.

Weeks ago I had a random urge to eat at Boma and actually found a late morning reservation, so we did brunch there yesterday. 

This 7 month old put away grits, scrambled eggs with feta cheese and about half of a very small pancake, AFTER his bottle. Not bad for someone with not quite 3 teeth. His mom got him a slice of watermelon from the buffet, which was messy but brilliant as a teether: cool, sweet, delicious, but yeah, he had sticky watermelon juice in the chubby rolls of his neck. 

Totally worth it, though.

And, that was Christmas. Small, quiet, and I'm glad it's over. I'm de-Christmas-ing the place this weekend, preparing to start 2025 on the right foot.  Among my 2025 plans is a major decluttering.  I have tubs of Christmas ornaments in the garage that I haven't hauled up to use in a few years. I need to review them, keep any "treasures" for next year, and pitch the rest.

I'm so bad at throwing things out. It's not a hoarding situation, yet, but I have a strong tendency to do the "Somebody might want that!" thing when I contemplate trashing anything. Actually, nobody really wants that. I have to repeat that to myself every time I start thinking, "Maybe I could donate..." or "It's a shame to..." No. Stop. Nobody needs your old shit, just throw it the fuck out and get over it.

Nobody really wants the very cheap mass-produced ornaments I used as filler when I had a much wider Christmas tree and it looked sparse. We're talking the $3 a box crap from Target here, nothing vintage or special, and bought more than 5 years ago. They're not special, they're not sentimental, and they are NOT going back into the tub for next year, they are clutter. They are trash. The tubs that never left the garage this year are on the list for review and culling as part of the Great 2025 Purge, which is one of my major life improvement plans. 

It won't just be Christmas ornaments, either. Everything in this place is under review. I have too much shit. I told my kids I didn't want anything for Christmas and I totally meant it: from here on, I want experiences, not things.

I'm not planning to downsize my living situation in retirement, because the reality is I couldn't find a place as nice as this without spending a lot more money.  But if I'm here until I'm too old to navigate the stairs, I have a wish list of improvements, decor, etc. Time to prioritize that future.

Weird Neighbor Story from the Condo of the Olds.

 First, that's not entirely fair. Since I've lived here (over a decade, which was not my original plan) a lot of the original owners have gone to the golf club in the sky and we do have teens walking to catch the bus to HS at o-dark-thirty, and this afternoon a long haired tween I'd never seen before told me my dogs were cute as he shot past on his bike. It's not one of those God's Waiting Room communities, but we do have a preponderance of old people.

And yes, I do realize that to the kids walking to the bus and the kid on the bike, I'm one of the old people, and I am.

But damn, some of these old farts are just weird.

A couple of years ago, neighbors on the next street (I don't know their names) got a corgi puppy. Cutest little creature ever, and so friendly and bouncy! Though we live around the corner from each other, our schedules rarely mesh so I don't see them often, and now he's a dog.

Eddie didn't know him as a puppy, barely sees him now, and loses his mind barking at the now fully grown corgi, and the corgi responds in kind. I did let Eddie approach him, saying he's a new friend, and they happily barked at each other like idiots, but neither wanted to get any closer, and that's cool.

We do not see some neighbor dogs often enough to establish any rapport. Eddie knows some neighbor dogs and when he sees them I just say, "That's your friend Toby, you don't bark at him," and he doesn't. He has friends he knows by name and he's cool with them. But when we have a rare dog sighting, Eddie Loses His Shit at the Tops of His Lungs. When this happens, if he doesn't settle down I take Eddie in another direction, and as soon as the other dog is out of sight he shuts up and resumes walking like a gentleman. He's not truly reactive, it's not aggression, if he gets to meet the dog he actually turns shy and quiet.  He's just gets super excited about seeing other dogs and gets really loud, and it's only an issue at 6 a.m., like today.

We just haven't had enough random encounters with the corgi to establish the "that's a friend, you don't bark at..." rapport, and the owner just..isn't friendly. He'll hang back and watch Eddie losing his mind, smiling, like it's so funny. At first i thought he was just clueless, now, I wonder WTF is wrong with him.

And that brought us to this morning. I rolled out of bed into 37 degrees, threw a hoodie over my pajamas and took the dogs out for their morning pee. And corgi guy was standing at the foot of the driveway next door. I spotted them and hustled Eddie and Gidget across the street. Fortunately Eddie was thinking more about his bladder than looking for dogs to bark at, and I heaved a sigh of relief. I kept him busy across the street, then looked back, and saw Corgi Guy standing at the foot of my driveway, effectively blocking our way home. He could have turned around and gone home. He didn't.

So I waited. I waited. It was a bit after 6 in the morning and did I mention it was 37 degrees and I was in my pajamas, because I just wanted to take my dogs out for their pre-dawn pee, this wasn't a real walk?

And still, he stood there, watching us. Until finally I muttered fuck this, and let Eddie lose his mind barking, and the corgi barked back, and Sorry Neighbors, I really tried to avoid this. And as I approached MY driveway, the corgi guy still stood there, smiling at me, then slowly walked past while all three dogs barked at each other.  I hope he heard me call him "Fucking asshole," over the barking frenzy. I didn't yell it, but I didn't whisper it either.

UPDATE: This morning he came walking up the street from the opposite direction. I turned my barking fool around so he wouldn't be distracted from his mission, the Dawn Pee. Weirdo and dog turned the corner toward their home. Eddie saw them as they went around the corner and barked anyway, but at least there was no dawdling to stir the barking this time. 

I mean seriously, I've seen my share of weird neighbor shit, but deliberately making dogs bark at 6 a.m. (including his own, who was a gleeful participant)  is just fucking asshole behavior.

 

Onward Into Kakistocracy. And Yarn.

I'm still very sad and very pissed, I'll probably remain so until the day I die, but if we all don't get coping mechanisms in place, that day will come sooner than later. 

As the meme says: I'm not a member of the "tolerant left," I'm a member of the EAT SHIT AND DIE YOU TREASONOUS ASSHOLES LEFT. 

And then I deleted a lot of ranting.

For me, a break from news programs and podcasts helped. I really don't need anybody reinforcing what we already know and can't do a damn thing about at the moment, so even my beloved Rachael Maddow is in timeout for now. Not that I don't love and trust her, but I'm not up to 45 minutes of news in one sitting yet.

I keep reminding myself that 20 years ago I was really involved in politics and then I had a fucking brain aneurysm. I had a lot of life stress going on too, but the Bush Administration sure as fuck didn't help.

I'm 20 years older now, and far less likely to survive a repeat of anything like that. Self care is literally survival now.

I do follow sane voices online, like Heather Cox Richardson. She'll ease me back to listening to my other favorite historian, kindly Doc Maddow. (If you know who calls her "kindly Doc Maddow," you're part of my tribe.)

The only podcast I can tolerate right now (it's like I'm recovering from a stomach virus and can only tolerate certain things) is The Professional Left. They're just incredibly nice, sane, sweary, non-hysterical, normal people. I've followed them as bloggers since the Bush administration. They're good people and probably have no idea how often they've talked me off many a ledge over the years. We've never met in person (they're in a cornfield in Illinois) but they feel like friends. Blue Gal is also a knitter and recently started a YouTube channel. 

Maybe I'll be able to build up to my former news consumption eventually, but not yet. Outside my usual work day, I'm reading, knitting, crocheting, cleaning, and consuming news in small, measured doses. And the funny thing is I feel entirely informed by reading actual journalists on Bluesky, where everybody has moved since that bird site became fully occupied by Nazis. I left the dead bird site and don't miss it even a little; all the people I like to read are on Bluesky. I'm on Bluesky, though I am still more in reading and finding friends mode so far and haven't been posting much. I need to change that. 

In OTHER news: Gidget randomly and expensively gave herself a lick granuloma in October, and spent a week in a cone of shame. All's well now. My anxiety brain of course went directly to mast cell tumor, but that doesn't appear to be the case as it has healed cleanly. It also doesn't appear to be arthritis, and she's on allergy meds, so who knows? I'm guessing it was caused by her natural anxiety and maybe the Most Expensive Mosquito Bite Ever.

The vet's office apologized for not having a smaller cone. It's a more country practice than the former one and they don't deal with a lot of 10 lb. dogs. She bounced off door frames a bit, but otherwise adjusted to it with her usual good humor. All's well that was expensively well. If she keeps licking body parts we may move on to anxiety meds, but it's so intermittent and unpredictable, I have no idea what to do next.

Eddie remains Eddie. He's just the nicest, funniest, LOUDEST little guy ever, but such good boy. He's still LOUD when he sees another dog, but the funniest thing is he's not loud when he sees Not-Dogs. A bunny crossed our path yesterday morning in our pre-dawn walkie and he spotted it and wagged his tail and looked delighted, but didn't make a sound. We haven't seen the resident raccoon in a while but when we do, he doesn't bark, he just talks to it softly, like he's coaxing it to be friends. 

But a dog a quarter mile away must be announced at top volume, always!

So, I'm not a big Thanksgiving person. As I've said in the past, I've cooked turkeys in every type of kitchen other than on a boat or a spaceship, and I'm over it. It's a lot of work for two hours of eating and the hell of dealing with leftovers and cleanup. I'm NOT a fan.

For the last several years we've been eating out, and I liked that very much. This year because of the wee one I'll be joining The Guy Who Needs a Blog Alias's family at his brother's house. 

The Kid has requested that I make stuffing, because apparently they didn't have stuffing last year, so I shall make a small casserole of her great-grandma's standard. I was assured it wasn't necessary because there's enough food for an army, but I'm of the generation that feels icky about showing up empty-handed. 

I'm still having my usual social anxiety, though I know it'll be just fine, and we'll have a baby and another toddler to get all the attention, and I do know how to talk to people, I'm not THAT socially awkward. I just don't enjoy it. There's still that part of me that would rather spend the day on the couch with movies and knitting, but it's an opportunity to meet the new "in-laws"and I do want to meet them. 

The highlight of my holiday weekend will be Sunday, when we will go to EPCOT Festival of the Holidays. We missed this last year when my pregnant daughter insisted we had to do Christmas at the Magic Kingdom instead, which was crowded AF and otherwise like Magic Kingdom with Christmas decorations. 

The Festival of the Holidays is vastly superior, IMNSHO (there's an old-timey acronym for my fellow olds). It isn't the holidays if we don't see the Christmas storytellers, and it's not too early to get Sebastian started off right, with La Befana and Father Christmas and Pere Noel. If the line isn't too long we'll get a photo with the true and authentic Santa. When his big sister The Kid was little she wanted nothing to do with Santa at the mall or anywhere. NFW was she sitting on that stranger's lap. Then she met Santa at Disney, and instantly approved. She knew the real deal when she saw it. She told him what she wanted for Christmas and posed for pictures as if she hadn't consistently recoiled from Santa like he was a clown beckoning to her from a sewer. Disney Magic is real, y'all.

Deeply Disgusted.

 I went to bed at 10. I took 2 Benadryl and listened to sleep stories. I woke up at 2:30 feeling so tense. I checked my phone and learned that white people decided we should go with fascism instead. Democracy had a pretty good run, but America is over.

And you know, if their Orange Savior was a really smooth, slick talker who said all the right things and tricked them, I could sort of understand. But JFC, he's a shambling, slurring, incoherent, hateful old fart. If he was your grandpa, the family would be having a serious conversation about putting him in a home.

White people saw, shrugged, and said whatever. They proved they'll vote for anybody but a brilliant and qualified black woman.

I feel gut punched, sickened, and like an idiot. Though I'm in Florida  and it really does suck here, clearly I've been living in my own happy bubble all this time. I work in a multicultural environment of mostly college graduates of all ages, my friends are multicultural, gay and straight, younger and older than I am. I thought I knew a pretty representative cross section of Americans.

Clearly, though I'm a white woman, I have not been living in the real white America all this time. 

I have no positive thoughts to share. I am utterly and completely disgusted with this country.