FIF!!!

1. Beau went to his diabetes specialist and he’s doing great. His A1C was previously 13, when he was in glucose toxicity. I don’t remember if I told yall, so I apologize if I’m repeating myself. He lost 50 pounds, looked like he was wasting and I made him go to a specialist. His pancreas had essentially started to shut down, and his liver was compensating and sending out sugar. It was so enlarged, you could feel it through his tummy. He thought he was doing great and that his weight loss was due to “portion control”. But he also began losing hair, and would have died if not for this doctor. She is one of the good ones. He’s now down to a 7.7, with 7 being perfect. She estimates his pancreas is functioning at 80%, and told him that he needs to begin backing off the long-acting insulin at night. She also says if he continues to do this well, he’ll be off insulin and Metformin within a year.
I don’t even have words for how much gratitude and relief we feel.

2. I believe I have developed a full blown obsession with Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros. I have watched every interview and performance by them I can find. I haven’t crushed like this since River Phoenix.

3. We inherited a australian shepherd/lab mix with the new house, by which I mean they abandoned her. She is the sweetest thing, and very handy. She led Beau & Jack back to the house when they got lost, and saved Beau twice from a snakebite (pygmy rattler and a cottonmouth). Beau named her Susan for some reason, but I call her Sister Sue. And she’s cross-eyed as a rabbit. Not much of a dog person, but occasionally one steals my heart. She would be one of those.

4. I should be happy right now, but I can’t muster anything. That is not to say I’m not grateful, I’m just sad. I don’t know if it’s because of being sick and hurting, all of the stress, but it’s almost overwhelming sadness. I fear there are Dementors nearby. Speaking of Dementors…

5. The previous residents of our place left behind some SERIOUS negative energy. It’s so thick when I walk in, I feel nauseous. And it’s not my own sadness projected, it’s a different feeling entirely. It’s heavy and dark and generally uneasy. First thing Saturday before we move our things in, a smudging is in order. Laugh if you want, I know what I know.

image

Woke up quick

at about 6:30 pm.

Choking on vomit.

Felt like I was drowning.

It took a couple of minutes to get air flow back.

Only a Milky Way on my tummy.

Laying on my side.

No reason to die.

What the fuck.

Just got home- 3:48 am

Every.

Motherfucking.

Floor.

Refinished.

I can’t really move this much though.

Thanks again, gifs.

hkirkh:

What a human face without muscles would look like

Whatcha got going on for lunch? Cool if I go with ya?

hkirkh:

What a human face without muscles would look like

Whatcha got going on for lunch? Cool if I go with ya?

All my enemies are turning into my teachers.

— Alexander- Truth

You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it—it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.

But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.

And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking…ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: “It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.”

— Charles Baudelaire  (Be Drunk)

Today

I don’t think I can do it.

Subsequent days are also in question.

Moving when you’re sick is difficult enough.

Gutting and renovating a rotted house on top of moving?

I apparently forgot I’m not a whole person anymore when I agreed to it.

Anyway, SEVEN DAYS UNTIL WE HAVE TO BE DONE.

I wish yall lived near so we could do it Amish-style and knock this shit out in a couple of days. Jesus Christ, we need help.

I don’t have a choice about today. I have to finish the floor so we can start moving things in.

Fingers crossed I don’t fucking collapse when I’m out there because no one would know until tonight when Beau gets off.

If you voluntarily misplace your humanity, the divine does not dole out amnesty.

— Zisa Aziza (via truths89)

I wish I could get a print of this for my new house.

I wish I could get a print of this for my new house.