At some point, I need to make a list I can keep handy online with happy-making things for those times when I sink low enough that it’s not easy for me to remember what those things are. Sort of an “In Case of Emergency, Break Glass,” but without the having-to-break-anything bit.

When it’s the right time of year, anything to do with the garden helps. Thankfully, I was reminded this weekend of one of the reasons I was glad to move here. Spring in February? That’s the stuff, man. Saturday I was able to work out some angst by ripping up all the dead plants covering the new sprouts, and Sunday we found time to get to the nursery so I could get some new plants for the year. Given last year’s Big Tomato Mushfest — my impression is that it’s just too mild here to for the bigger puppies to grow to their best potential — this year I’m going for mostly herbs and flowers, with a few cherry tomato plants and then the berries: the two blueberry plants I put in last year have hopefully cross-pollinated to keep warm and will result in some big, juicy beauties. I also had a little splurge which involved bleeding hearts (which I have loved since I was a child, but never grown myself) and narcissus.

I’ve also determined that whenever possible, if I can find around two hours or so in any given day to do some yoga, then go whack off, then take a hot bath, and then a long walk, that everything feels a whole lot better for the rest of the day.

One of the beauties of BPAL is that because there is no immediate gratification when you order, given it can take a few weeks for Beth to concoct her artistry, a few weeks later you get a very nice surprise in your email letting you know that pleasant, smelly things are en route to you when you’d forgotten you even ordered them. It would be even better if my beloved Geek hadn’t been a limited edition, but on the other hand, sampling new stuff is a cheap thrill, and since the scents I care for tend to be more boy-flavoured or unisex, if something doesn’t work on me, chances are always good it’ll work on Mark.

My piano, as ever, remains a fine source of solace. Last night, it was a Tom-Waits-a-thon. I try not to let the once-operatic diva in me who used to have the crystal voice be disturbed by the fact that the older I get, the more I sound like Tom doing falsetto. On the other hand, back in high school when I had to sing opera half of every day, I was always irritated that I didn’t have the right voice for jazz: guess I got what I wanted.

Buffy. Over the past three days, I indulged in a marathon. Season Six, if you’re curious. I needed something to indulge my bitterness.

But this should probably top the list. It had us both laughing so hard last night, and unable to stop replaying it, that we ended up nixing sex we’d been nuzzling our way to because we knew too well that one of us would end up shouting “I’m a munchkin!” at the worst moment possible.

* * *
I think I may hate my new camera. Not sure yet, but so far, I’m just really wishing they hadn’t stopped making my last one, because it’s so much nicer to me.

* * *
In spite of my needing some respite time, the fundraiser for Scarleteen is still going on, so a few more shoutouts to folks who have blogged for it: Bitch, Jane, Dacia, Columbine, Irmelin, DivaMommy, Debbie, Jenny, Ariel and my dear Mr. Price (who only lives on MySpace, and yes, as a cultivator of much web snobbery, this is terribly embarassing for me — I often ask, beg and plead with him to drag his cute ass outta the web gutter, but to no avail). Thanks, y’all.

(For the curious, donation-wise, as of right now we’re close to about a third of what I hoped we could raise this time around: so long as things keep chugging along, combined with the grant, we may just be able to get to where we need to be to tackle this year’s expenses.)

* * *
And now comes my big bummer of a question (this is not about me personally, I promise, so no worries). To my readers and friends out there who work in alternative health — in bodywork, naturopathy, chinese medicine, nutritional health — if you’ve got any decent background in managing breast cancer, could you drop me a comment or an email? I was even certain this weekend that I had a reader who worked in an alternative clinic in Chicago, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember who it was. Anyone local or nearby Chicago — or who could give me any resources there — would be a double bonus. Bless.

If that paragraph gave you a yucky thud, again, I refer us all back to this.

filed under Heather Corinna | Scarleteen | activism | home | Auntie Heather's Helpful Hints
posted on Tuesday, February 20th, 2007 at 9:22 am

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