Adventures in ACA: In Which I am (apparently) fat, anemic, and a hypochondriac

Let's get something straight. I am not a big eater. I like food, I just don't have a huge appetite and I can be a fussy eater (partly because I am so sensitive to taste and smell). I calculated out my caloric intake and I get roughly less than 1,000 per day. I don't think that's normal.

But, eventually, I had to see a doctor here in Baltimore. First, there was the gynecologist. I was underwhelmed there. I honestly felt just rushed through the whole affair and I really hate when people tell me that something doesn't hurt after I tell them it does. Pap smears HURT for me. No, I have no clue why. Yes, ma'am, the brush is soft like a baby toothbrush. If I say it hurts, it hurts.

After that, I was supposed to hear back about the results of all the tests she made me get, including a blood test. I even called them (I have serious phone anxiety, I don't do that often or well). No reply. So, I figured I had an appointment at the same facility to see a Personal Physician, maybe I'd hear something then.

I feel like this whole appointment devolved into "what can go wrong?"

--They didn't get my ethnicity right on the paperwork. In fact, they didn't bother to ask. They just put me down as white (I am so not white).

--The doctor shot down any of the research I'd done on possible tests and conditions, saying he didn't put any creedence in patients doing their own study. Uh, excuse me?

--The doctor then proceeded to feel my neck for a goiter. He was squeezing the wrong place. When the guy who went to medical school can't find a major gland, there is an issue.

--He told me I wasn't hypothyroid, just fat. When I pointed out what I eat in a day, he told me I needed to be counting calories. What.

--He told me the only test that came back badly from the gyno visit was my iron and that I was just anemic, without seeming to care why.

--The final blow was the fact that he kept laughing when he replied to anything I said. He genuinely sounded like he thought I was a total idiot or a hypochondriac.

I don't care how stupid you think a patient is, none of this is professional or acceptable.

Next appointment is next week. I think it goes without saying that I am not seeing anyone at this facility.

State of the GimpyGeekyGirl

Well, first of all, I'm not dead. Frequently wish I was, but still breathing and mobile. The move to Baltimore has shaken me up far more than expected, largely due to the fact that the move was forced a week ahead of schedule. The apartment management decided to kick us out way ahead of our November 15th intended move out date. I'm still jobless in a new city and don't usually have the spoons to do more than lie in bed and watch YouTube (no money to reopen our Netflix, which makes me a very sad geek). Granted, we now have DVR, but that's no substitute when I want to see something that no channels in the area are showing.

Second, I have had my very first overnight stay in a hospital. It was a pleasant hospital, though I'd rather not have been there, I had a solo room and the doctors actually gave a damn (New Adventures in ACA, next post). I had to get a blood transfusion, which didn't help my energy levels, but at least it kept me alive. We still don't have a definite answer for why I lost two pints of blood so fast I couldn't put it back, but they made sure I'd live long enough to see a doctor.

Oof.

So, now, we're moving...

I won't call this a totally awful thing. I'm going somewhere with good public transit (good for someone who really shouldn't drive), good doctors (Baltimore *is* the home of Johns Hopkins), and lots to do (much as I love Richmond, it's rather devoid of things to do). But, it's not totally great, either. I have start my doctor search over. I have to start learning a new neighborhood. I have to get a new job.

That last bit is the scariest. I'm just about comfortable with my current job, but I know that child care work isn't for me (I never know what the parents will be okay with!). So, I have to find a job that I can do while having unreliable body integrity and health, something I can do while in a wheelchair most of the time, with a boss who understands "part time wheelchair use".

Luckily, my family is being really cool about the whole "Brenna can't do much" thing. We technically aren't moving totally until November. In the meantime, we're transporting things little by little to the new place and new storage. Just about every weekend, we'll take up a load of boxes and unpack, setting up our rooms to our satisfaction, and learning the area. I'm going to start learning how to do bus rides and light rails on wheels. I'm also seeking places to go and how to get there on Google maps. So, I will be continuing to make blog posts on traveling around with a gimpy body.

Here goes nothing!

Adventures in Tourism: The Smithsonian Institute, Part 1

Being a child of the DC area for much of my youth, I am no stranger to the Smithsonian. It was the go-to educational field trip for all ages. But, that was many years and a lot of pain ago. My joints and tastes have matured. Besides, at least one Museum has opened that I hadn't yet seen, up until Tuesday.

(Photo description: A glass case, containing a display of four disks of various materials, each with a hole in the center. One, made of glass, has a wooden rod through the hole. The display's description is visible but indistinct.)

I hadn't thought to bring any mobility aids with me, as the trip was literally decided upon 3 days before it actually happened. By then, I was already in DC, so my companion, Coyote, and I vowed to tough it out and rest all we could. 

After navigating the Prince William Public Transit System (annoying at best, way too complicated at worst) and the Metro (where Coyote and a security guard got into an argument about her religious choice to not wear shoes except in winter), we made it to L'Enfant Plaza. If you have never been to DC, here's a tip: don't be fooled by Metro Stop names. The "Smithsonian" station isn't always the closest to the museum you want. In the case of the Museum of the American Indian and the Air and Space Museum, L'Enfant Plaza is a closer option, and less of a hike. Take Smithsonian if you want the scenic route along the Mall, however.

The Museum is beautifully built and landscaped. I enjoyed the waterfall and its sound wall stone, which played into my sensory quirks, as well as getting to touch the stone from Hawaii (go see it before it goes home in 2024). The squirrels, however, are bold as brass. Don't be fooled by how cute and fearless they are. They will fight you for food. Shoo them away if you must.

Security was very polite and they had wide seat wheelchairs available for borrowing. I just had to leave my ID with them, which meant no wine in the restaurant, but then I rarely drink. The ramps were just shallow enough to be easy to navigate, though the way the lobby exhibits were laid out, I had to do a lot of weaving and zigzagging to see them, which could be an issue on crowded days.

The restaurant has earned a reputation for some of the best food in DC and it shows. All of the offerings are from various Native American cultures and are well-made and filling. All I ate was the Frybread, though I wanted more, the salmon was very pricey, and the bison chili was too spicy for me to eat a whole bowl of (I had a bite of Coyote's bowl of chili and the spice is sneaky). 

The elevators were plenty roomy enough for me in the wheelchair and Coyote, but the handicapped restrooms were a tight fit and some of the exhibits were hard to navigate in the chair. But it was worth the trouble, as the multimedia and displays were clear and enticing. I was disappointed that there wasn't more on Caribbean tribes (I'm part Puerto Rican), but I chalk that up to the fact that many tribes in the islands have either been bred out or wiped out. A few exhibits were closed, so there may have been more, but it didn't really seem to take a whole afternoon.

Hopefully, in the next few weeks, I'll be doing this again for the Natural History museum!

So, yeah...

I suck at consistency in blogging. I suck at journaling, especially when it's compulsory. If I have things to say, I say them in places where I do a lot of talking to start with. Schedules are exhausting.

But, here's what I've been doing since I last posted.

--Pennsic happened. RV camping has been moved out to Parking, making my morning commute at War less than pleasant and my evening commute downright exhausting. Otherwise, it was fun.

--Myself and two friends have decided to join a Zombie/Post-Apocalyptic LARP. More on that later.

--turns out Zoloft is not a good idea for me. It makes me loopy and forgetful. Not sure if the new stuff is any better.

--Work may be getting easier. I may have help to deal with two days a week, at least.

--I finally got to visit the National Museum of the American Indian. It hasn't got much to see right now, but what has is pretty awesome. Wheelchair Rentals there were very kind and civil, and the food has earned the reputation of being some of the best in DC, and that's coming from someone who only ate the Frybread. More on that in another post.

Adventures in ACA: Hit the bottom, now swim for the surface

I'm not naming names here. I'm too angry and stressed to be polite or diplomatic. Suffice to say, I have been betrayed by the stereotypes of my youth. 

First of all, I went to see a doctor that my insurance company recommended. On the phone, he was rather terse with me and my first instinct was to not go. However, my mother, husband and mother in law all urged me to try him, so I gave it a shot. 

Upon arriving at his office, my first thought was, "holy shit, this looks like my kind of people!" He's right down the road from my favorite nightclub, next door to a head shop, and the inside of the office was brightly, if shabbily painted in yellow. He dressed like my dad, all laid back and comfy and there was a lot of brightly colored art around his office. I relaxed a little, but not much.

The questionnaire I was handed was brief enough to give me pause. In fact, it wasn't a questionnaire at all really. It was more asking for billing information.

Our talk was brisk and left me feeling rather cold. I was allowed only to answer questions with a "yes" or "no", no clarifications would be accepted or given. He gave me a memory test that I could have passed at my most disoriented. Then, after about 20 minutes or so, I mentioned that my family had a history of autism spectrum disorders and suspected I was on the spectrum. He very brusquely told me, "you aren't autistic."

He told me he was prescribing Zoloft. While I have heard good things about Zoloft, I was not given ANY alternative. It was "take this and accept that you have to use birth control, because I'm not prescribing any other medication." Also, he told me not to research it. Don't look up the side effects, just take it. I was furious and frightened. I felt like I was back in high school, being forced to listen to a teacher who didn't understand clinical depression and was convinced I was a troublemaker, who could be cured with Oprah tactics and Pollyanna mentalities. He told me he wasn't going to give me individual sessions, gave me a strict list of group therapy rules and told me that, even if the session was canceled, I'd have to pay up $25 a week. 

I was in shock. I wanted to scream at him, "how dare you treat me like this?" But, I said nothing. He terrified me. Finally, I said I'd think it over. He asked to be paid. I had a debit card. He was very sharp and insisted that it would be cash or check and that he'd already told me that on the phone. It's possible I'd forgotten, but I don't recall that. I hurried across to an ATM and got the money to pay. Anything to get away. I was crying. I felt humiliated, angry, afraid. It was only the tip of a horrible day, but it would have been enough to turn the best day sour.

My next step took me to Richmond Behavioral Health. They were remarkably polite and comforting, even expression shock at my experience with prior doctors. They referred me to a place that I will call Metropolis Health.

The trouble with Metro Health is that they wear many hats and have to make people jump through hoops to be treated. You show up, get registered, and, if the stars are right and your guardian angels have gotten very lucky, you can be seen and evaluated. But, this is rare. After the first attempt, you have to keep going back, early in the morning, and trying for a slot to be evaluated. If nothing else, the fourth time, they make an appointment and punt you up the line. I consider myself fortunate. My second official try worked. 

The lady I worked with was super nice and helpful. She asked a very thorough battery of questions, and clarification was accepted and given. I wanted to hug her. She treated me like a person, one with feelings and anxieties. I wasn't a paycheck to her. I'm so relieved. I have appointments to see her and the psychiatrist there. I'm feeling more calm than I have in months.

More as I get it.

Adventures in ACA: The first doctor

     Let me state this for the record: I am, technically, a Christian. I don't worship like most Christians I know, I don't often have the same moral compass, and I generally don't attend church for myriad reasons. I say this, because there will be discussion of religion, especially Christianity, in this post. This is the best warning I can give you. Also, there are instances of professionals not taking mental health seriously. If you still want to read this, the story is under the cut.

     So, yesterday rather sucked. Mostly my fault. Okay, entirely my fault. But, the reason I've been out of it for the past few days is that I've been psyching myself up for this doctor's appointment. Expect the worst, hope for the best, you'll never be surprised.

     The office was downtown, in a rather old-fashioned but nice enough medical plaza (I'd passed it before and thought it was an apartment building). The wait was longish, but I was prepared for this.  I was a little nervous and caught myself stimming in the waiting room, rocking and humming and wiggling. But, things moved quickly once I was back there.

     The doctor seemed nice enough at first. She asked a few in-depth questions about my family medical history and mine. But, then she explained that, due to the office patient load, I had to pick two things to focus on with her. Okay. That's a little odd, but okay. I picked a skin issue I've been fighting and my fatigue. At some point, depression, ASDs and anxiety were mentioned and the fact that I felt like my antidepressant wasn't doing its job any more.

     Suddenly, she began asking me questions about whether I'd had childhood traumas and had I been treated for certain things. One thing stuck out as we talked. She said, pointe blank, "You're so articulate and creative, why do you think you have these problems?" There was a heavy implication that I was being melodramatic or histrionic. While I'm sure some incidents in my youth haven't done my psyche any favors, I seriously doubt I'm just traumatized and everything will be better once I handle that.

     Then, at one point, she began asking about whether I attended church. She might have seen the raven necklace I always wear. It was given to me by a beloved friend, Wanda Runninghorses, because my name means "Raven" and I rarely take it off, because it's just comforting to wear. Either way, I replied that I'm Unitarian Universalist (for the most part) and didn't give her much more than that. Honestly, I felt it wasn't her business how I pray or who to. If I'd had the guts, I would have told her (without lying, really) that I consider myself a witch. But, by then, I was crying. This woman, who I was trusting with my health, was refusing to believe that my mental health was really a problem and, after I had told her what two problems I wanted focused on, she picked a third and wasted most of the appointment on it.

     I guess I need to find another doctor.

You'd Never Know: Doctor Who

You'd Never Know: Doctor Who by brennalarose featuring a blue cardigan

     Even in this day and age, where Nerds are on the rise and Geek is Chic, sometimes, we want to wear our fandom on our sleeve to places that just won't get it. Some people still view most outward signs of fandom as juvenile and unprofessional (yet, some of these people are the ones who wear neckties with football logos or keep autographed photos of favorite actors on the wall in the office, go figure). Maybe it's just because I was raised by hippies and geeks with great fashion sense, but I always like to find ways to subvert that. 

     After a day of pitfalls and before a day of stress and nerves, I have found that I can't sleep for anything. So, while I wait for Insomnia to go home and teach Ferdy to mambo (see my previous blog about Insomnia), I puttered around on Polyvore and came up with a look I think one could get away with wearing to an interview or reception where one isn't sure of the nerd quotient (number of nerds in a room divided by the number of non-nerds and their age range multiplied by whether or not its a cash bar and/or the type of industry involved). It could also work for the office or a date night, particularly if you don't know your date's feelings on certain shows.

    Here, we have Doctor Who. I've deliberately left out as many references to particular regenerations as possible, to allow the wearer to tailor the outfit to their personal favorite (for me, most of Classic). Okay, there's ONE reference to Matt Smith, but it's a lip balm and that's mostly because, while I've found subtle things that lean towards a Companion, there isn't much for their Doctors.

     Starting with the basics, my Gothic sensibilities led me to a simple black button down top with a royal blue maxi skirt. It's easy enough to stay modest enough for the office in this combo, and yet get a little exciting for the clubs or a party. I've added a lightweight cardigan in dark blue by SeV, the same model they sell on the ThinkGeek site (ThinkGeek only sells the black and the white versions). I don't know about you, but I'd rather be too cold than too warm. Cold, I can pile on the layers. Hot, and I'm miserable with no relief. Also, I added a wide blue belt for some interest, without being too flashy. On the shoes, there's a pair of chunky, but sedate black Mary Janes (oh-so-comfy, but still cute), and a more party friendly pair of glitzy blue platform pumps. I'm a sucker for extravagant shoes and these twinkletoes are the kind of thing I'd get a kick out of slipping on before heading into an office party, no puns intended.

     Makeup-wise, I've held back a bit, due to the fact that the clothes are doing the talking. A deep, shimmery blue eyeshadow can be as subtle as a swipe of smoky eyeliner, or as daring as a full-on pop of royal blue, with flashes of silver and black. Lips should be simple, so, no blue lipstick or "Hello Sweetie/Sailor" reds here. Just a lip stain/balm combo stick in a dark, muted berry shade, or, if that's too much for you, a gentle swipe of Vanilla Custard lip balm (fish sticks, purely optional). I chose a blue nail lacquer as well, which you might paint secret little swirls of Gallifreyan or little white squares on with a nail art pen. If you're a klutz like me, don't sweat it. The blue should be enough.

     For jewelry, I think a watch necklace would be appropriate. It doesn't even have to work; I break watches just by wearing them. The touch is the key. I've included two necklace/earring options. The one that seems more sedate and professional to me, is the crystal cube set. The earrings are just two stacked blue cubes with a white bicone on top, to hint at the TARDIS with its flashing light. The necklace that matches has a little crystal heart attached. The pieces look cute and avant-garde without being insistently nerdy or too boho. On the party side, an opulent and baroque silver winged necklace with a deep blue gem compliments a simple pair of sapphire studs. With both, if you have the money (or are willing to sock it away in oatmeal tubs for months) is the top of the line TARDIS ring, with lab-created sapphires. Maybe a bit too obvious with the ring, but unless your boss or co-workers tend to stare at your hands or you work as a sign language interpreter (in which case, you won't be wearing it), you can probably slide it past all but the most savvy of closet geeks.

     I added the wheelchair and the cane to remind me that mobility needs to come first. As fun as the rhinestone heels are, I can't wear them with a cane. But, if I'm in a wheelchair, hell, I have the freedom to rock awesome shoes without my heels and toes being mashed into applesauce. The cane would work well with this. Granted, a smart ass like me would prefer a question mark handle, but the point of this was subtlety. The pearly blue and purple makes me think of a galaxy.

     This was fun! Maybe I'll do more. Maybe one for each of the Companions (how does one tone down the sequined catsuits of Zoë? How can you distill Leela into something office friendly?).

Spoonflower: Setting the Print

     I meant to start working on my experiment scientifically and last night. However, my husband talked me into going to see X-Men: Days of Future Past and then out to dinner, so I wound up being too worn out to do much. This morning, however, I got up and began the test drive.

     After researching methods of keeping ink on clothes (like Sharpie on a t-shirt), I started by ironing the swatches while covered with the cleanest white cloth I could find over it. I think the iron might not have been quite hot enough, but it sizzled when water was flicked on it and I didn't want to scorch anything. After that, I tossed them in my washer/dryer. We have a combination machine, which is awesome because it basically saves time and energy, plus water by being a front loader. Rather than washing the swatches, I put them in a normal dry cycle to add more heat, hoping to help the heat setting finishes on the cloth. I'm not sure it worked.

     When I took the swatches out, the colors didn't seem as vivid as before. That may have been a trick of the light, but I would keep it in mind for the future. Tomorrow, according to my research, I'm supposed to wash them in salt water. I have heard some complaints that salt actually removes color, so I'm only going to use it on half of the swatch and see what happens.

EDIT: It was a trick of the light. No severe fading occurred that I've noticed, after comparing it to the pictures. Still, let's see what happens.

Spoonflower: First Impressions

     So, my Spoonflower test swatches FINALLY arrived and I'm so very glad I ordered test swatches, rather than chance a whole two yard hunk of each.

     The first issue I have, is that, on the website, I can't seem to figure out how to change my shipping address. For all I know, my first order wound up an hour away at my old residence. On top of that, apparently shipping first class like they do means that your tracking number probably doesn't really work.

     However, their customer service is wonderful. The person who replied to my e-mail was helpful, polite and kind. She (going off of the name in the e-mail, the individual was identifying as female) helped me figure out what happened, changed my shipping address for me and had new swatches printed and shipped. I'm not sure whether they took the old charge and applied it to the new order or charged me again, but I'll let it slide for the present.

     The first thing I noticed is that apparently, Spoonflower doesn't use vegan dyes, they use vegan INKS. Meaning, that all my research on natural dye mordants is useless. I'm watching this thread on flickr to find a way to make the cloth hold its color. So far, it's all the sort of thing I would use to clean a Lolita outfit anyway: gentle cycle, cool wash, or hand wash, steam iron. The cotton sateen and cotton poplin have the best reputation for keeping the colors. This eHow tutorial seems to have some merit, so I'll give it a shot. It's been a while since I've done a science project (this year is my ten year high-school reunion, make of that what you will). Still, I'm going to try and do this scientifically, test out all the ways I can think of to wash and treat this stuff. A little mad science never hurt anyone! *mad scientist cackle* Ahem...

     The fabrics themselves aren't bad right now. The swatches came shipped in a sturdy envelope and the invoice was folded around them. Attached with what I think was a very weak adhesive was smaller sample of a faux suede they're introducing that I like very much. I think I might order some for something someday. For polyester, it feels very soft and lightweight.

     Each sample looked to be printed like a picture in an inkjet printer, except on cloth. The samples are about 8" square and the colors look very crisp. I ordered cotton poplin, which seems to have a very pretty drape to it.

     The Teaspoon and an Open Mind print looks just like the website showed me. It's gorgeous and the print looks enormous, which is great, because I'm a big girl and tiny prints would make me look absurd. Definitely buying the big version of this if it survives the test.

     The solid I ordered... I'm not impressed. Despite how it photographs, it's a navy so dark, it looks almost black, whereas I was led to believe it was a more vivid hue, closer to indigo. I was going to use this as a ruffle on the skirt, but I think that plan will change now. I'm either buying a solid something at Jo-Ann's or trimming with the cut-off top of the print. I only need about 20" or so for the skirt and this is closer to 27" in the repeat. Still, it's not a total loss. I can use it in my experiment as more test material.

In Summary: Hard to change address on site, wonderful customer service, fabric drapes well and looks crisp out of the package. More study needed to help decide if this is going to work out.

New Thing to Do: Summer Reading List

     I feel like I'm falling off my game as a reviewer. While I have a schedule written up for my show (new episodes of Bookwyrm's Lair, coming in September, Scout's Honor), I'm wondering if it would help boost my critical skills if I read and review more. That being said, I've cooked up a reading list for the summer, since it's too hot and I have too long of a work day to do a video review. I'm going to try and put together two a month.

Jane and the Stillroom Maid by Stephanie Barron
Jane and the Prisoner of Wool House by Stephanie Barron
A Free Man of Color by Barbara Hambly
Wicked Weaves by Joyce and Jim Lavene
Longarm and the Druid Sisters by Tabor Evans
Death of a Gossip by M.C. Beaton

I'll be putting in the order for these from Amazon, fairly soon, and I'll try to get the first review out in June.

Happy Beltane, May Day, or whatever y'all have!

     So, today, my insurance finally kicks in. Apparently, same for everybody else. Because the phone machine tried to fob me off on the website. Sadly, I prefer to talk to a real person. Also, sweet mother of muzak, the hold music is loud as hell and terrible to boot. I feel like I'm shopping in run down fabric stores with my mother again, circa 1990. Can't y'all at least play some swing or classical or something that doesn't sound like The Chipmunks trying to a cappella their way through progressive jazz.

     They must really want me to go to the website. They just hung up on me. Boo, hiss.

     Here, have some better music, at least:

     On the costuming front, I'm very glad I decided to place my Spoonflower test order so far in advance of any time I might need them. I now know if I want to get fabric I'd better order it rushed, so I'll get it before the next Ice Age. 15 days feels longer than expected. I'm half tempted to start ordering the rest of pieces of my coords, but that might be counting my chickens before they hatch.

     I might want to order a white blouse to dress my Doctor lolita outfit up a bit. I'm going to put white lace on the bottom ruffle, so a black blouse might look wrong. For my first choices of casual tops, this, this, and this, from RedBubble. I'd LIKE to order them in scoop neck, but I don't know if RedBubble's sizes will fit me (are those measurements only for the front have or all the way around?).

"Boo, Tornado Season", Health Grumbles and Plotting a Pink 1490's Italian gown

     Today was not a good day for work. The weather report was calling for tornado warnings, so I wasn't as eager to stick to the schedule as usual. It's kind of hard to focus on things like interaction when, at any second, you're going to have to hide in a closet and cover your head and that of a wriggling, confused, upset child. Luckily, no tornados nearby, but I think the air pressure has been affecting both of us. Youngblood has been sluggish and forgetful, as have I. Plus, I have a pressure headache now. Boo.

     On top of that, it's apparently time for my semi-annual fever blister. I've been doctoring it with Herpecin L and a lack of salty, scratchy foods. But, it's still uncomfortable and unpleasant. I feel like I  ought to be shambling around a marketplace in rags with a bell, howling "unclean! Unclean!" I hate mirrors right now. Ah, well, first world problems, I guess. 

     I've been collecting links and such for my pink garb experiments. I don't know if wild European strawberries would dye the same as the cultivated American ones, but I'm going to try over-dyeing the linen with just a little strawberry juice. I'd like a pink that's around this shade or this shade. Definitely more of a rose color than the baby pink it currently is. Coincidentally, the second one is what I'd like to make a Giornea out of, and, adding to the theme of blue and pink (and water and feminine things), have it reverse to this, or this, or maybe this. 

My Latest Obsession: Doctor Who Lolita coords

     So, I've recently gotten a wild hair up my butt about having more Lolita clothes. I'm not sure why. I don't have a lot of places to wear these things. I sure as hell can't wear them to work. Youngblood is a sweet child, but his love of running hell-for-leather through all manner of bracken is murder on clothing. So, I really wanted things I could wear at conventions. It hit me while I was toddling around Spoonflower: Doctor Who Lolita.

      Now, I know that Spoonflower has an awful reputation for fading. Vegan dyes are tricky like that. I've ordered some swatches of the material I want to use and I'm going to try the old "soak them in a mordant" trick. Also, I'm only wearing this skirt (I haven't got the patience to try making a Jumper Skirt just yet) maybe three times a year: MAGfest, Darkover and Shevacon. So, hopefully, that will minimize fading.

   
(Description of Image: The material in question. Blue striped background with a row of jam sandwich cookies and sugar packets, a row of sponge cake on a plate, a fork, a teacup with a banner reading "A Teaspoon and An Open Mind", a spoon, and a pair of crossed sonic screwdrivers, and a last row of sonic screwdrivers, oranges, pocket watches, cream jugs, message cubes and sugar packets.)

     I figure I can extend the life with separates. RedBubble has numerous designs on t-shirts. If I order them big enough, I can tailor them into cut-sews. ThinkGeek has more shirts and sells a "Doctor Whooves" backpack purse that looks like a plush toy (he comes with his own sonic screwdriver and magnets so he can hold them). That, and the SeV cardigan, which, to me, is essentially a TARDIS that can be worn. Etsy, of course, has tons of bags, jewelry, and shirts to use. So, I've been using my other obsession (Polyvore) to assemble coordinates. I feel like the girl in the story who had a hundred dresses, each one a drawing to make up for what I don't have.

Doctor Who T-shirts by brennalarose featuring vintage rock tees

Adventures in ACA--Behavioral Health and Coverage

     Let me start with a confession: I am a dirty Liberal. Within reason, of course. I eat a lot of things that are bad for me (Vanilla Coke, I love thee, though thy sugary, carbonated goodness makes me puffy and sluggish). I shop at Wal-Mart (I'm a broke-ass American). I believe that Gun Control is both hands on your piece and only aiming at what you absolutely mean to shoot. That being said, I love "Obamacare".

     I know very little about being an independent adult, but I am willing to learn. So, once the spouse and I were signed up for affordable health care, I made damn sure to get control of my health care. First things first, mental health. It's been about two years since I've seen a MHP, give or take a couple of months. My medication isn't working any more (the depression is getting worse, rather than better), and I could really do with a sleep aid that isn't antihistamines and hope. So, yesterday, I called up my insurance and asked for a few numbers I could call.

     I noticed first that I could barely understand the person on the other end. The accent wasn't one I couldn't puzzle out, and they weren't really mumbling, they were just talking faster than I could process. Just a nitpick, I guess. Also, the prompts on the menu to get Spanish help were in terribly pronounced Spanish. I speak just enough Spanish to know that. The call center person did ask me if I'd prefer a male or female psychiatrist, or if I didn't care, so well done on that front. There are things I'm not sure I can discuss with a male psychiatrist. I got three numbers, all very nearby where I live. 

     The issue we ran into was when I wanted an estimate of coverage. My coverage, it seems, doesn't start until May 1st. So, no estimate. Annoying, but I guess it could be worse. I'm going to have to muddle through until then.

Today's Health: I didn't sleep well last night, so I'm really tired. This is a week when I can't stretch out on a sofa and nap until I have to fetch Youngblood; I have him all day. I get tomorrow off and I plan on sleeping in. I love my husband, I know we have a date, but if he wakes me before 10 AM, I'm going to smack him with a shoe.

Sleep=HAH--Nope.

     I really like those Lunesta commercials. You know, the ones with the delicate little Luna Moth fluttering in slow-mo over people as they softly drift off to sleep. I wish I could relate.

     Insomnia and I are old acquaintances. I can't say "friends". No, Insomnia is like that one person in sitcoms, who busts in at the worst moment, often uninvited, makes a damn nuisance of themselves and seems to exist for wacky hi-jinx. The family tolerates Insomnia, who arrives in a cloud of overly-warm nights and snoring humans, and rouses them to flop around like a beached fish in bed, fussing with covers, counting sheep and wondering if it's worth it to go warm up some milk. She drags them to work, barely conscious, and vanishes, right when you need to stay awake. Then, she returns around 9:00 PM, dragging a guinea hen named Ferdinand and a badly-tuned lute. She might leave around sunrise the next morning, but the damage is done.

     Usually, I chase Insomnia out with a few Unisom. But, the trouble is, two Unisom can escalate to horking down the bottle and doing the chinchilla dust bath dance until 6:00 AM. So, I'm trying to cut back, especially on weekends. This weekend, I have no LARPs or long car trips to wear me out. I have ignored the bottle of jewel-like, peacock blue gel caps on my nightstand. I have struggled to wear myself out, while maintaining enough stamina to do housework when the rest of the house is awake. Yet, here I am, giving up at 4:15 AM, and waffling on that precipice called "too tired to sleep".

     I don't know if it's my brain, addled by a lower serotonin level than is healthy. I don't know if I sleep too much. Maybe I drink too much caffeine. Whatever it is, I wish it would stop. I wish I could write Insomnia's wacky self off to Idaho to raise guinea fowl, or study the lute in Finland, or marry her off to some billionaire in Taipei, who is charmed by her whimsy and good-natured intrusiveness. Insomnia can write, or maybe visit when there's a nightclub that needs livening up or a project that needs finishing right the hell now.

     But, right now, Insomnia? Could you please take Ferdy and the lute and your adorably garish fashion sense back home? I'm trying to catch a slo-mo Luna Moth.

Pennsic Planning: Pink and Pretty

     So, I'm an SCA brat. Have been since I was three and my mother brought me to Pennsic. I don't get to make it to very many events any more (LARPing consumes my weekends). But, I had better be deathly ill before I miss a Pennsic. Yes, it's miserable, wet, hot, dirty, stinky, and expensive, but I really honestly can't imagine what to do with those 2 weeks that doesn't involve late night walks by torchlight, falling asleep to the sounds of parties, and really damn good chocolate milk.

     However, I'm also a grown-ass woman, so I have to do things like pack and pay my own way now. I can get into all the cool parties, but I hate crowds, can't be on my feet much, and don't drink much. Most of my socializing is purely during daylight hours or in visits to merchant friends. So, now, I have some sewing to do.

     Most of my garb these days is borrowed, so I'd like a few things that are actually mine. About a year ago, a fellow in the local group was getting rid of some fabric to make space in his attic. I managed to get my hands on a humungous bolt of pink linen. Originally, I planned to make a Civil War ball gown, but that fell through. Now, with four months to Pennsic and a need for handwork to keep me occupied (I can sew while I wait for things), I think perhaps I need new garb.

Pros:
--Lots of fabric to make lots of clothing
--Linen breathes
--Linen lasts
--I don't have to return it to anyone

Cons:
--It's a very pale shade, might look bad on my skin tone (can be over dyed to a darker shade of pink, rose or fuchsia might be more becoming)
--Not sure if it's actual linen, or blended with other material (simple burn test)
--It's a pretty tight weave, might not breathe as well as other linen (might loosen up in pre-wash)
--Not actually certain how much is on the bolt.

     This is also partly an offering. My sister-in-spirit, Coyote, is undergoing treatment for cancer. As of this posting, she's in the latter half of active treatment. The cancer has been trying to kick her ass, and failing. Before the diagnosis, she had converted to Catholicism. It seemed an odd choice, but so far, her faith has helped her. I can't pretend to always understand Catholic spirituality, but, I can make an offering to God in my own way. I'm not a priest, nor am I rich, so saying or paying for masses to be said is out (do they still do that? I don't know). I can offer up the sweat of my brow and use the symbolism to make these outfits a prayer. I want to see her healthy again and able to come with me to Pennsic. She wouldn't wear pink, she wants nun's garb, but the symbolism of pink can be turned to her advantage. I wear the outfit, charge it with my health and my strength and love, and then, when I go to make her garb, I take some threads from the seams of the dress and place them in the hems of her garb. Thus, maybe I will pass my prayers for her health to her.

     Because of that, I'm going with a theme that, to me, is all about feminine strength and health, as well as signifying something that brings Coyote and I spiritually together. I was born under the sign of Libra, which, while being an Air sign, is ruled by Venus. Venus the planet is named after the goddess, known to the Greeks as Aphrodite, a name which is said to mean "foam-born" or "shining foam". She was born from the sea and, as such, has deep connections to the ocean, as well as being a matron goddess of women. Coyote was born under Cancer, the Crab, another watery thing. So, the two things make me think of mermaids.

Dress #1: 14th Century Gothic Gown

     Often called a cotehardie, this dress is designed to fit closely to the hips, at which point the skirts are very full and swirly. Add to this a sleeve design made of half circles and buttons down the front, and it does look very glamorous. I'm thinking of trimming it with the Greek wave trim from Calontir Trims, which is blue and white. If I over dye it, I'm going to aim for a rose pink, with pearl buttons, and make an under dress out of a sea foam color.

Dress #2: Roman Tunica

     Something simple, with the same trimming. Easy to throw on for days when I need to get out of camp.

Dress #3: Italian Gown

     Easy-going, but fancy enough to make me feel a little glam!

     Here I go!

Blast from the Past: Lolita Lit 101--Anne of Green Gables

(Reposted from "Southern Fried Lolita")

Shrub Monkeys #76, Used with the artist/author's permission.
Okay, kids, time to get academic! Have a No. 2 pencil and paper ready... Ah, who am I kidding? I'm not going to quiz on this! But, I do think it's time to get into another post series I have planned for you all--Lolita Literature 101 (Sans Nabokov Edition)! Every month, I plan to go over some book that I feel every lifestyle lolita should at least try. Not love, I won't put that pressure on people, but at least attempt to read for some sort of cultural or, indeed, subcultural merit.

This month being Country-Loli Month here at SFL, I'd like to discuss one of the classics, popular here in North America and over in the birthplace of Lolita, Japan: Anne of Green Gables. Written by Lucy Maud Montgomery and published in June of 1908, this novel introduced us to the daydreaming, orphaned, Canadian redhead, Anne Shirley, and kicked off an eight book series (which is better than the Potter kid can boast! Just kidding! I'm a Hufflepuff at heart). Montgomery said she was inspired by a scrap of writing she found from her school days, in which she described a couple that had sent away for an orphan boy and had accidentally gotten a girl, instead.

The tale begins at Green Gables, a farm in the little village of Avonlea, Prince Edward Island. The owners are brother and sister Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert, who decide to adopt an orphan boy from an orphanage in Nova Scotia to help around the farm. However, there's a mix-up, and the orphan delivered is the eponymous, 11-year-old girl. She's clever, freckled, and detests her name, wishing she'd been a Cordelia. If you must call her "Anne", she insists it must be with an "E", because it's more distinguished. She proves herself to be a chatterbox and extremely imaginative, much to Marilla's constant aggravation and Matthew's constant delight.

She soon meets and makes friends with Diana Barry, Jane Andrews, and Ruby Gillis, and becomes a rival of Gilbert Blythe (see the first two frames of the above comic, and you'll see why). Throughout the book, she manages to get into numerous scrapes, including dying her hair green in her quest to be a brunette, getting Diana drunk by accident, and nearly drowning in an attempt to reenact the funeral of Elaine, the wife of Lancelot. Her intelligence and courage more than make up for her foibles, though, and she endears herself to many along the way. Despite her awkward beginning, Anne comes to consider the pastoral Avonlea and its environs as home, no matter where she goes on her path to adulthood.

As a child, I was a precocious reader. Anne of Green Gables was one of the few books my mother didn't feel the need to put on a higher shelf. It was also around this time that I wound up watching the 1985 miniseries on PBS, and it seems she's had an impact on my life. I've tried to change my name often in my life. Teachers could never say it or spell it right on the first try and I rued the fact that my father had been so adamant about my name (Mom's first choice was Brianne). I gave up in the 8th grade, resigning myself to the fact that it was my name and there was no changing it. Just as Anne wished for dark hair, I've wished to be a blond, then a redhead, after it was gently pointed out that blond hair would look ghastly on me. I've dried my hair to a crisp in search of glorious, "Anne-ish" auburn hair. So far, no luck, but I'm a bit more determined in that respect, I think. And, even before I discovered lolita, I wished for a more elegant and romantic life, often daydreaming, just like she did:

"...Now I'm going to imagine things into this room so that they'll always stay imagined. The floor is covered with a white velvet carpet with pink roses all over it and there are pink silk curtains at the windows. The walls are hung with gold and silver brocade tapestry. The furniture is mahogany. I never saw any mahogany, but it does sound SO luxurious. This is a couch all heaped with gorgeous silken cushions, pink and blue and crimson and gold, and I am reclining gracefully on it. I can see my reflection in that splendid big mirror hanging on the wall. I am tall and regal, clad in a gown of trailing white lace, with a pearl cross on my breast and pearls in my hair. My hair is of midnight darkness and my skin is a clear ivory pallor. My name is the Lady Cordelia Fitzgerald. No, it isn't—I can't make THAT seem real."

She danced up to the little looking-glass and peered into it. Her pointed freckled face and solemn gray eyes peered back at her.

"You're only Anne of Green Gables," she said earnestly, "and I see you, just as you are looking now, whenever I try to imagine I'm the Lady Cordelia. But it's a million times nicer to be Anne of Green Gables than Anne of nowhere in particular, isn't it?"

It seems that Japan is quite taken with her, having two animated series based on the books made. Some of the earliest Lolita designs from the 70's (when the first Anne anime debuted) even resemble her long calico frocks and pinafores, though those silhouettes seem to have fallen out of favor.

Culturally, Anne might very well be one of the earliest fictional foremothers of Lolita style. She struggled to make her life a little more beautiful and cheerful, no matter how dark and dreary things got, and her charm and wit made her friends no matter where she went. I highly recommend it to anyone who has ever dreamed high and still managed to keep their feet on the ground.

Today's cute kid moment

So, Youngblood and I are trying to stick to a schedule. We have a PECS board, one side says "To Do", the other says "All Done". When something is finished, we move the picture over. After snack time, I made him move the snack picture over.

Me: Snack time is all done! It's dance time!
Youngblood: Swing time! (Note: he doesn't mean swing dance.)
Me: Not yet, it's dance time!
Youngblood mulls this over, then reaches for the sign.
Youngblood: Dance time all done!

Nice try, kid!

My hair and WTF to do with it

     So, I have long hair. Very long. While most people are chopping their locks off, I'm trying to make mine grow more. I love my hair, even when it won't cooperate, which is often. Being mixed, I do have a pain of a time finding products that work (yes, my hair is baby-fine, but it's curly and there's so much of it that volumizing is redundant). When I do find things that work, it costs a fortune that I don't have. I'd love to invest more money into my hair care, but that implies that the money exists.

     When I was in 7th grade, I was followed home by two girls who threatened to cut off my hair. As a child, I cursed the fact that I could have neither blond (I have a very sallow complexion), nor straight (my mother is mostly Black and Puerto Rican), nor stylish (layering and bangs ain't happening, just sayin'). But the threats traumatized me. I have not had scissors near my hair without fear since 1999. Now? Of course I have learned to love "The Beast" as I call it. I just have neither the spoons nor the time to do much to it. I usually pin it up in a bun and call it even. I brush it out as often as I wash it, which isn't, due to the dry brittleness of my hair, but I try to look as well-groomed as I can.

     Now, being both a LARPer (Live Action Roleplayer) and a recent convert to Lolita fashion, I find that a simple bun just won't cut it. This weekend, for example. A friend talked me into playing in a Werewolf: the Apocalypse game, right before my standard Changeling: the Lost. I have my first Loli coordinate all lined up with makeup and accessories, but my hair has me stumped. I will be washing it and, for Werewolf, I'll probably wear it in tons of little braids, but what do I do after? Unbraiding it will save me some styling (huzzah for hair that holds a curl/wave), but do I do the ever-popular baby doll half-pigtails? Just sweep it back? AUGH.

     What do you do when your hair leaves you stumped?