The last year has been pretty rough for us both.

I can only imagine the kind of things he’s gone through as I’ve been through repeated doctors, medicines that made me crazy or sick, chronic pain, breakdowns, mental instability and a bunch of other really un-fun sorts of things. I also can’t imagine how I’d have gotten through all of that without him. He’s been my rock through all of this, even when it was as confusing for him as it was for me. I’ve been reminded over and over again how lucky I am to have him and get to be with him.

It sounds cheesy, but it’s really true.

When you say “for better or for worse” and “in sickness and in health” you don’t really expect the sickness and the worse.

I know I didn’t. And I really didn’t expect it to be “my fault”. I know there’s no blame involved, but on some level it bothers me that I’m the one that got sick. (I’m working on getting over that.) Part of what makes me so grateful and thankful and happy to be with him is knowing that our relationship survived a really big helping of “worse”. It took a lot of work from both of us, but we made it. I try to make sure he always knows how much I appreciate him and what he does for us.

So here’s to five years.

Our first handful, hopefully of many.

(It’s been hinting at The Holidays ™ for awhile. The store is already starting to show signs of impending Holiday-ness, with displays of gift books and stationery and gift packs all interspersed with little evergreen branches and red bows. But it’s not really been the real deal yet.)

Bright and early Friday morning, as customers line up outside the door at the ass crack of dawn for the Black Friday gift bags, the CD player will be filled with Christmas and Winter music (because I really don’t think “Here Comes Suzy Snowflake” has anything to do with Christmas at all).

As an employee, this means being driven crazy with the music on repeat – no matter how many CDs we have, the CD player will play through the same tracks over and over and over, no matter how many times you push “randomize discs”. It means frustrated, hurried customers – thankfully made somewhat less grumpy by the fact that we sell books that look new but are priced at half or less of their cover price, as they’re gently used. People are always happy when they can get their gifts for less money than they thought they’d have to spend, especially during the holidays, when they are usually stretching their budget and credit limit to its breaking point.

To be honest, working retail sucks most of the fun of the holidays for me. It’s hard to be forcefully pleasant at the best of times, but when things are as busy as they get around Christmas, it’s even more difficult, as you don’t get a break. There’s no let-down at all really.

It’s frustrating, because normally I like this time of year (as I like all seasonally oriented holidays) – I like the slow change to the dark days, and the turnaround at the Solstice. I like the beginning of winter, and celebrating the New Year with champagne and black eyed peas. I like evergreen trees and pretty white lights – the closest it gets to snow here. I like getting presents for people, mailing cookies to my friends, and sending cards to family.

I’m usually able to let go of the crazy competitiveness and “gotta-get-it-all” attitudes, and just enjoy having an excuse to send people mail and cookies.

But working retail just sucks all the energy I have, leaving just the dregs for doing those things I look forward to.

So this year, I started early.

While I can’t make cookies early, I got all the cards addressed and most of the shopping done. Having the house ready for Thanksgiving means it’ll be just maintenance to have it ready for houseguests at Christmas as well, and maybe a New Year’s shindig. Gifts are mostly clutter-free, useful, needed (or delicious) items that I’ve been thinking about for a good long time, knowing that I won’t have to run out and just get SOMETHING for the sake of having it to unwrap.

We’ll see if all that does anything for my energy levels as The Holidays ™ wear on, but I’m hoping being prepared will help keep me from getting too Grinchy.

I sat down in the chair and asked for a 2” trim. The hairdresser cut the back of my hair, and then turned me around to look at it. I said “Wow… that looks short…” and she held up a piece of hair that was close to 5 inches long and said “well, I just took two inches off!”

I let her finish my haircut, but told her I was not entirely sure what to think about the length, that it was way shorter than I’d expected. She kept stating that she’d only taken 2 inches off the ends.

I got home and realized I wasn’t mistaken. My hair is just about to the top of my shoulderblades when it’s dry. It was about to my bra strap just after getting it cut in September. I’m pretty sure I didn’t magically lose a bunch of hair between then, and in fact it should’ve been about an inch longer when I went in to cut it.

The proof, as they say, is in the pictures.

This is my hair immediately after having it cut in September:

Note that in this picture my hair is a fuzzy mess, because my stylist is a clueless noob that doesn’t know how to properly dry curly hair, and thinks teasing it with her fingers while aiming a diffuser at it is going to result in something other than looking like a deranged lion.

This is my hair after having it cut last week (and having styled it myself):

Now, I suppose with long hair it was only a matter of time before some stylist got the idea that she should just cut my hair to a length SHE thought was OK. And I did not actually pick up a ruler and say “I want THIS MUCH cut off, and no more, and if you cut more I’m not paying for my haircut” (which I’ve been told to do by other long haired women who attempt to get their hair cut by stylists instead of doing it themselves).

Everyone at work loves my hair, which is hard for me to swallow because while it does look “cute” (and it does frame my face nicely, and the curls are more stable) I can’t do any updos with it beyond a ponytail anymore. It doesn’t even really go into a bun, so I can’t use hair sticks, or hair forks, or any of my octopus clips.

This length makes it look much thicker, and the curls spring up a lot more, which I like… but it means doing my hair regularly instead of being able to take a shower before bed, sleep on it, and just pull it back into a sleek updo with pretty hair sticks the next day. Drying my hair takes about 20 minutes if I use a diffuser/blow dryer (and several hours if I let it dry on its own, in which case it tends to not curl as well, and likes to stick to my head like plaster).

My mom thinks this is a “more adult” length for my hair (she never liked it when it was long, and kept suggesting I cut it). SSH thinks it looks healthier and otherwise doesn’t have much of an opinion, though he does like the curls.

I just can’t get over how drastic it feels. It was less of a shock to go from tailbone length to mid back than it was to go from mid back to shoulder.

Unfortunately “work” turned out to be pretty substantial. It needed a basic tune up, but also needed a new saddle, new hand grips, and there was something seriously wrong with the back wheel – it wasn’t out of true, but it was wobbling badly enough to make lots of noise. Also, the brakes needed to be completely rewired.

In 1995, a Diamondback Outlook cost about $200.

To fix that bike up to “usable” would’ve cost me more than $250, and “usable” would have been about the best they can do. Keeping up with SSH’s new Raleigh hybrid bike on the road? Probably just impossible. It was a decent cycle in 1995, but there’s a lot better technology today in terms of the amount of speed/energy you get for the amount of energy expended. Also, mountain bikes are squashy and smushy and have suspensions – ostensibly so you don’t break your tailbone while riding trails. Not really that useful when riding paved/cleared bike paths around here.

So several test rides later, I donated the Diamondback to the local bike shop’s bike repair program and drove home with a brand new bike on the back of the car.

It’s a Cannondale Quick – a hybrid cycle made for roads, paths, and light trail riding (less than 12 inch jumps). It’s FAST. Just pedaling around the driveway I can feel how fast it wants to go.

I honestly didn’t realize how much of a sluggish, mushy dinosaur my old bike was until I started testing out the newer ones. Even the cruiser style bikes, with coaster brakes and only 3 speeds and big smushy seats were easier to ride and better aligned. SSH and I took the bikes out for a spin Friday evening, just for a few miles to get the feel for it (and to break in the saddle – I’m rather sore in the sit-bones today). I was AMAZED at how easy it was to do 10mph, when before I was really struggling to get above 6-8.

Now I just hope the change from Daylight Savings doesn’t bork my ability to ride more days than not – it’s getting darker earlier in the evenings now, but fortunately we’re only about 6 weeks out from the Solstice. This marks the first time I’ve EVER had a reason not to go back to “normal” time, as I really don’t get along well with Daylight Savings, but I suppose shorter days are just a factor of November and “winter”.

I’m still really excited though, for a fun new toy and a form of exercise that SSH and I can do together. He really enjoys cycling, and I can’t wait to go along with him and actually be able to keep up!

Things were looking more in the up direction for awhile… except then (to continue the metaphor and stretch it perhaps too far) they turned upside down and I fell out of the little harness and splattered all over the pavement. Faulty lap belt. Or something.

In short, things aren’t so good, but I’m working on it. I don’t know when it will get better, but the only way out is through. I’ve run out of ability to pretend everything’s OK at work now too, so I figure one of these days someone is going to realize just how fucked up in the brain I can be.

I may or may not talk more about it, but at least this space exists.

<3 and such.

Oh. And whatever smartass thought it would be a good idea to add “Black Cherry Flavor!” to sublingually dissolving anti-psychotic medications can go blow a goat. Because really, now it tastes like terrible artificial flavoring AND bitter poisonous nastiness. It’s almost adding insult to injury that taking a medication that makes me feel so shitty has to Taste. That. Bad.

(And before someone suggests water, I can’t have any. Tablet under tongue, no food or drink for 10 minutes. It makes the underside of my tongue peel too. THAT’s fun…)

Labels on food have been kind of eyeroll-inducing for awhile, but it seems to be getting worse lately. I’ve seen trans-fat free labels on blueberries and fat free stickers on bananas, gluten free vegetables – and that’s just the produce department. Packaged foods are now telling me how many grams of whole grain are in them, even going so far as to sell sweetened, packaged, enriched bleached flour children’s cereal as “part of a healthy breakfast” because they have “whole grains”.

So perhaps it’s not so strange that I’d eyeroll at all those labels and ignore them, cracking it all up to food fads and secretly making sarcastic remarks in my head.

(This is where I’d do a cool segue if I could think of one, and it would be sophisticated and thoughtful and you’d all love me for my transitional abilities. But I can’t think of one. So.

Segues are for suckers.)

Approximately one week ago, I finally got something resembling a diagnosis for my chronic pain, fatigue, and other issues. One of those issues is a tummy issue, and I’ll avoid TMI’ing you overmuch, but let’s just say that my system worked overtime, all the time, and I’d be running to the bathroom 4-6 times a day on a normal day. Which is pretty disrupting, all things considered, especially when you can’t move very fast because your joints hurt.

SO.

Doctor put me on new medication, told me I have to swim several times a week, gave me a bunch of activity restrictions… and told me to go gluten free for 3 months.

Three months, no gluten AT ALL. Not “a little bit every now and then”. Not “if you feel better you can cheat a little”.

None.

I woke up last Thursday morning and went through my pantry, trying to figure out what I could eat. I literally had NO IDEA where to start. Even as someone who eats a lot of whole foods, I couldn’t eat any of my breakfast staples – no oatmeal, no granola bars, no cereal, no multi-grain muffins.

I ended up eating a banana and an egg.

Friday, I went grocery shopping, and I found myself feeling kind of like an asshole about rolling my eyes at the gluten free labels.

Maybe not on the strawberries (no duh?), but on packaged goods? All of a sudden I was floundering like an idiot, thrown head first into this exclusion diet where nearly every packaged item we eat contains gluten (anything with soy sauce, anything with MSG, anything with maltodextrin or malt sweeteners, anything that uses a food starch anti-caking agent for those anonymous “spices”).

Those “Gluten Free!” labels became a little lifeline, a little sanity break that meant I didn’t have to grill my brain to remember which of the various ingredients might have gluten, or be processed in such a way as to be easily contaminated with gluten (like white vinegar).

So far I’m not sure what to think of eating gluten free. It’s a huge mental process, and I seem to vacillate between “I can do this”, “I will never be able to eat anything again”, and “Why am I bothering?”

I definitely don’t roll my eyes at the Gluten Free labels anymore.

Though I do still make snide remarks in my head about trans-fat free blueberries…

I highly recommend Diet for a Dead Planet to anyone who wants to read about the human costs to the current agricultural system – not so much as a condemnation (which it is) but also as a history of how the system actually developed, both industrially and politically. It’s written in such a way as to be easy to read in small chunks, and it was my bedtime reading book for awhile. Cook also does a great job of endnoting his work, so anything that seems outrageous can be fact-checked – something I did a few times.

The Consumer’s Guide was pretty dry but good to read, since it actually takes SCIENCE to the idea behind “greening” your everyday decisions. Especially in light of this week being Earth Day (more on that later this week), it’s nice to read something that says “these things actually make a difference, but those things really don’t”. For example, choosing to buy an energy efficient refrigerator is a much more important decision than whether you use plastic or paper grocery bags. They line up their scientific method and have a large section of data and analysis in the back of the book to support their findings as well. (Not surprising, given the authors.) Unfortunately, it’s about 10 years old, so it’s not as up to date as it could be, and a lot of the progress they see as possible hasn’t come about yet.

I have given up on the Dalai Lama’s book for now, mostly because it is a little too thinky for me right now. I’ve put off most of the other books for another time.

Instead, on my reading list, I have:

• Bunnicula and The Celery Stalks at Midnight, by James Howe
• The Lightning Thief, by Rick Riordan
• The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels, by Ree Drummond
• Beezus and Ramona, by Beverly Cleary
• The Omnivore’s Dilemma, by Michael Pollan
• A Garden Book for Houston and the Texas Gulf Coast, by the River Oaks Garden Club, and Houston Garden Book, by John Kriegel

Plus, of course, finishing Redwall and whatever other Brian Jacques books I can track down at work. Hopefully this will be a good continuation of both fun reading that I’ll enjoy and reading that will feed my brain (pun intended) as I research and study various things about our food industry and about my local gardening climate.

Also, for what it’s worth, those books at the top of this post are the first books I’ve actually finished since all this started last year. *\o/*

The phone rings. I answer it (within the first two rings, of course).

“Hello, this is <Bookstore Name> in <Location>, Anna speaking, how may I help you?”

*****

“Hi, do you sell books?”
No, the whole “Bookstore” part of our name is a joke, we really sell sticky widgets.

*****

“Hi, do you have a book?”
Nope, we’re fresh out.

*****

“Hi, I’m looking for frerkhtngrmwth.”
“Could you repeat that? I didn’t hear you clearly.”
“I’m looking for frerkhtngrmwth, by Thrrlblwrt K Hamthripth. You know, her new book.”
“Um… let me put you on hold just a moment and I’ll check.”
<checks new releases section for books with titles that sound like frerkhtngrmwth.>
“I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t seem to have any copies of frerkhtngrmwth right now.”
“Oh alright. I’ll try online.”

*****

“Hi, I was wondering if you had <Obscure Book Title>”
“Give me just a moment and I’ll check the shelf.”
<checks shelf>
“I’m sorry, sir, we don’t have a copy of Obscure Book Title right now.”
“Why not?”
“Well, we’re a used bookstore, so our inventory is really unpredictable.”
“But I checked your online inventory and it says you have it.”
“…. We actually don’t have an in-store or online inventory. Are you sure?”
“Well, I looked it up on Amazon Dot Com, and it says you have the book!”

*****

“Hi, I’m looking fer books on Yew-Bun-Tew Lye-Nucks. It’s a computerin’ book.”
“Just a moment and I’ll check the shelf for you. … I’m sorry, right now all we have are Red Hat books and some generic Linux books.”
“Naw, I don’t need them Red Hat things. I need a Yew-Bun-Tew book. Thankya though.”
<I actually had an extended conversation with this gentleman, and he knew exactly what he was talking about. But I had to try REALLY hard not to giggle.>

*****

“Hi, I need a copy of Sandy Backerack for my kid.”
“uhh… do you know what kind of book it is?”
“He says it’s a play.”
“Well, I can’t find a record of any book with that title, are you sure that’s it?”
“Yeah, that’s what he said.”
“You’re sure it’s not Pygmalion? That book is on a lot of reading lists right now.”
“Yes I’m sure. It’s called Sandy Backerack and it’s about a guy with a really big nose.”
“You mean Cyrano de Bergerac?”
“Yeah, that one.”

*****

… to be continued …

Today, I was called to Jury Duty.

For a number of reasons, going to something like Jury Duty in downtown Houston for criminal court in one of the largest cities in the country is more than just the usual Ugh/Pain in the Ass/Do I really have to do this? reaction.

I started preparing for having to do this three weeks ago. I made maps and memorized them, checked and double checked that I had the proper amount of cash. Treated myself to a new multi-color pencil to take with me for drawing mandalas as a way to help with anxiety. I called my doctor and arranged to make sure that I wouldn’t have to worry about my meds at all this week and got her advice on ways to manage the situation (as well as her assurance that, if I woke up today in a huge anxiety attack, that she would call the courthouse and help me deal with getting rescheduled). I carefully analyzed my clothes for comfort level, ability to stay warm, and ability to almost completely hide my body. I packed my purse two days ago.

Today, prepared for the worst of the worst, but going into it knowing I’d done everything in my power to make it as manageable an experience as possible… I went, and was blown away by kindness.

The man at the metal detector, who not only smiled, but struck up a little conversation about my insulated water bottle. The parking garage attendant who gave me advice on parking, told me how to get to the elevators (on the other side of the building), and then gave me excellent directions for how to get back to the highway from his parking garage. The jury summons attendants greeting people and giving directions to make sure we got where we needed to be and didn’t have to flounder around in the wrong place. The multiple friendly and good natured people waiting with me in various places.

And especially Bailiff Anderson, who had probably the most control over what was a largely uncontrolled process for us, and who went out of his way to make it at least tolerable.

You see, I got selected to go in with a jury pool of 80 people for a large criminal case. We were the largest group by far, and 80 people can be a little unwieldy in the best of situations. And then there were problems. We had to walk a little over 3 blocks to get to the right courthouse, go to the 15th floor, wait, go to the 20th floor, wait some more. Go into a courtroom, go back outside. Go into a different courtroom. And Bailiff Anderson, who had no more idea what was causing the delays than we did for most of it, cracked jokes and generally was an incredibly good sport with the 80 strangers standing around who had no idea what was going on, why it was taking so long, and really, none of whom was thrilled to even be there in the first place.

In the end, he had to explain that there had been some major issue with the case (the judge wasn’t able to talk about it, so he got the honors), and we were to be dismissed.

And then we played The Price Is Right to get our dismissal tickets.

Which is all to say that the kindness thing really does work. None of those people had to be kind, but they all chose to treat us like humans – possibly even as confused and uncomfortable humans who could really use a friendly face.

Because of them, what could have been a really, truly horrible day was stressful and exhausting, but manageable instead of sending me into an anxiety spiral for the next few days.

I won’t say I’m glad for doing it, especially since today is “Sunday” and I start my work week tomorrow.

But I’m very, very glad for those people who chose to be kind today, when their jobs really do put them in contact with a lot of unhappy people on a very regular basis. Perhaps they’re just kind, friendly people in general, or perhaps they too made the choice to be kind rather than simply polite.

*A note to Bailiff Anderson – you told us to tell your wife and your boss that you were awesome. Sadly, I don’t know either of those people, though I did mention you to the attendant on the way out of the courthouse. Instead, I’ll give you what little word fame I can. Thank you for your service and your great attitude.

*Deep Breath* So here goes.

To start, many of you know I’ve had some real issues in the last six months or so. I basically stopped blogging, stopped gaming. The few real life friends that read here know that I all but dropped out of SCA. At first, it was pretty easy to blame that all on my job, but that wasn’t entirely true.

The job was, in a way, a catalyst for things that happened later. I started working at the bookstore in September. By November I was in full scale psychological breakdown, as the support structures and mechanisms I’d built into working from home failed completely, followed by a really ugly last-straw sort of situation.

I’d rather not go into personal details, but since then I’ve been diagnosed with Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder that is co-morbid with (happening at the same time as) severe depression and a form of anxiety disorder that we’ve not pinned down just yet (probably general anxiety, but it really doesn’t matter). I’m in quite a lot of therapy, as well as being on a number of different medications – yet another thing that’s not really all sorted out yet, which is hugely frustrating. Not to mention the fact that I have the attention span of a gnat on crack.

At this point, I’m capable of holding down my job and managing my house most of the time. Some days, that’s all I can do, other days I can do more. And usually do too much, which then sets me up for the next crash. Go figure.

(Segues are for sissies.)

All of my life I have been a voracious reader.

Even now, I surround myself with people who read – the Divas and most of the Wildfire Riders crew and the majority of my twitter feed. Add to that working in a bookstore, and books are a pretty common subject in my life.

And right now? I can’t read them. Or rather, I can’t read the ones that other people suggest and that I want to read. Same goes with movies. The vast majority of stuff that people suggest is “awesome” I only have to read a synopsis of on Wikipedia to know that it’s going to end up screwing with my head for days.

This all leaves me in a bit of a quandary because I don’t want to say “I know this book is one that you think is wonderful, but I can’t handle reading about 42 different kinds of horrible, awful things that happen to the people in it right now.” And EVERY FANTASY BOOK EVER seems to have those kinds of themes, even Mercedes Lackey, in her Arrows series that gets recommended for teenagers.

Marion Zimmer Bradley? Nope – even though I’ve read them before, I know I can’t read them again. George R R Martin? No fucking way. Joe Abercrombie? Probably not. Goodkind? Nope. Charles De Lint? Nope. Read Anita Diamant’s The Red Tent. Great book, more than I could handle. Even Gaiman pushes my limits sometimes, not to mention the stories in video games.

Scott Lynch? Nope.

And thus we have the problem with Locke Lamora.

I want to read that book. I want to love it. The beginning is hugely intriguing and interesting and makes me want to keep reading… and then I get to the part where graphic torture enters the scene, put the book down, and can’t even look at it for months. Some of you might say “that’s nothing, you should see XYZ book…” and frankly, you might be right. There might be a lot worse things I could read in other books. But that doesn’t change the reaction – the actual, physical reaction – I have to this one.

I’m afraid to start books because I know what will happen, so I read stuff that people say is “funny and silly” – which means I either read fluff or nonfiction.

This all sounds pretty simple and, in the greater scheme of things, not that big a deal. So I can’t read some books. Big whoop.

But it’s actually a pretty good example of how my entire world works right now. I’ve never before had to look at things and evaluate whether or not I could handle them. I’ve never had to say “No, I can’t do that right now” to things I want to do.

The rational part of me, the part that knows how this works, that understands the science (or at least attempts to), that knows to “trust the process,” is able to say that this is just where I am right now. It’s early. It took me… *counts on fingers* … almost 15 years to get to this point. It’s not going to take 5 months to undo that level of fucked up.

Unfortunately that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.