8hyenas

Okay. I know it's bad, for the planet in general and max extinction and pollution and BAD. But on a purely selfish, local level? It's awesome.

1) Rain. There used to be droughts where I live, and forest fires. Now there's rain. A LOT.
And sure, there's flooding and roads crumbling and people floating away. But... I live on a hill. All my houses are on hills. Hills. Gardens that aren't on hills get washed out. All my topsoil is gone. Fenced beds coming soon.
The bad. Now when it gets super hot in the summer (115 degrees plus) it is also super humid (80% plus). And this combination is literally not survivable for the human species. There are "Red Days" when you are told to stay inside and air conditioned. Or you'll die, because the air is too wet for sweat to evaporate, and you won't be able to cool yourself.

2) Less extreme cold/heat and wetter. And if not cooler, then wetter. I used to have a garden from April 15th until about August 1st. Because it just got too hot and dry for any amount of watering to keep the plants alive. Now I plant on February 15th, and this year I had growing plants until mid-November. I got two full crops of tomatoes and peppers. 15 pumpkins off of ONE vine. Okay.
There are issues. My mom's yard was legitimately unable to be mown and had to be hayed. The hot dry crops that were traditionally grown here are getting hard to do. Okra is difficult to get right now.

3) Tornadoes. There was only one this season. Only one. ONE. They have moved north and east of us. Tornado alley is shifting. Sadly, they have taken the epic thunderstorms with them. But I'll trade.

There is a possibility that I'm describing a weather pattern, and not climate change. But these have held out for the last five years. And are within the predicted weather pattern shift. The tornadoes might just be luck. But, only one tornado warning? I remember spending most weeknights in the cellar or crying in the hallway convinced of imminent death (pre-cellar). I'm talking 20+ tornado warnings, hail destroying everything, green sky of death times.

Side note: During our one tornado I was happily on the internet in the living room and the dogs went crazy outside on the porch. They were leaping and clawing at the window while barking. I checked the weather, grabbed kids and the cat, and ran to the cellar. The dogs shoved us aside and ran in first. This is notable. I usually have to lift them down the stairs, and they hate being in the cellar. HATE. Fish panic sheds and lies on the floor like she's dead. Heidi insists that she needs her own chair and then passes out. Anyway, the tornado hit one mile to the east and we rose up victorious out of the shelter.

I wonder if the rate of religion goes up the more prone to natural disasters an area is? Ug. I have to stop this. And go move things around so the contractors can cut a hole for a new door. Goodbye one person on livejournal.

So another year's Thanksgiving. I love my family.

First, there's the food, the only rule is you can't have made it before, and nothing actually goes together. I brought a pumpkin curry with jasmine rice, there were grilled Brussels sprouts and some loser brought new potatoes, and other stuff, but that's what I ate.
So then there's the beginning prayer. Which is actually a "Blessing of the Birds" and has a group visualization, ending with everyone saying "And now our minds are one." (Do I really need to mention that there is no meat at this meal? And basically we are mourning all the turkeys.)
After the meal everyone goes to separate rooms, if you cannot find a room to yourself, you may go outside. There people read companionably alone. This lasts about two hours, then pie. Then you leave, quickly, when my mother raises one finger. Seriously, that's what she does when it's time to you go. You can say goodbye politely at the one finger point, but if she raises two you just have a leave as swiftly as possible.
So we're already home, and sleepy, and smug at how low-key our vacation is.

In case you haven't met me. I'm a planner, a successful planner. I've completed four 4-year plans and it's time to start a new one. What I tend to do is have a pretty detailed four year plan that fits within an vaguer eight year outline. I'm not that strict about it, but I like to move with purpose. So. Here I go.

Upcoming big things include deciding not to adopt, and to close my home to foster placements. I reached a breaking point with the amount of control I was willing to give up. And I mean breaking point. The decision wasn't rational or logical, but entirely necessary for my continued stability. It's still going to take a while to fulfill my responsibility to the two kids I have right now, but by July at the latest I will be done.

My best friend is doing a degree program in the PNW next August, and I'm going with her for a semester. So. Hello. I've missed you West Coast.

Buying another house. Early 2017.

Traveling four months out of every year.

Working a steady job never a single fucking day in my life.

Meet a bunch of different whales, and introduce myself.

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When I told my mom that my long term life plan was basically to travel around on a greyhound bus (SO CHEAP! And I am the worst driver.) and meet whales, she started to cry. They were prideful tears of joy.
She's never quite forgiven herself for disobeying and teaching me English, and to read. But blood will out.

Kid A. Kid B.

N. Is a talker and a sleep denier. Will flop and twist and kick until about 11 pm before collapsing. My previous thinking was that making R. share with her was cruel. As N. was keeping her awake. But... I think I may have been played.

R. spent the last two months sleeping in the living room and I'm pretty sure she's just doing it to be all in my business. Now, maybe I'm just pissed about the super destructive temper tantrum she threw this morning, but R. has just lost her sleeping in living room privileges. Ha! If they keep each other awake so what? It's not like they have to be up for school. Right? RIGHT?!

Also, I really want my house back. And a room I can go to that doesn't have children in it. Flopping and grunting like small larvae. Ug. Children.

#tempertantrumsreallyruinitforeveryone #schoolhasbeenoutthreedays

This will not be taken from me. I will keep this. I will keep this forever, and it will not be taken from me. You hear me? YOU HEAR ME!? #fosterparenthaslostallperspective #minebabies #whattraining?

Rude little old ladies in the grocery store who blurt out "You've lost weight!" when they see you. Bless you. Bless your children, bless your grandchildren, bless your sort of related nephews and nieces, and may your cow always give milk.

So I'm watching Scandal (not to give anything away, there's an episode where time passing is illustrated by Olivia's hair volumizing.) And Kerry Washington is pretty and all, but generally I don't think much about how she looks. But with her natural hair. God. Damn. I mean. Damn. Why exactly has the show wasted ENTIRE SEASONS on straight haired Olivia? That hair is fierce.

Then I'm watching How to Get Away with Murder. Same creator, same air day, same network, also only other black woman on tv (surely not.) And I see Viola Davis and I think, "Wow, she's beautiful." And that is the only time I can remember EVER thinking that about a black woman. Ever.

My dad was black and my mom is Native American. I wasn't raised with my dad's family. All of my mom's family suffered through government boarding schools and appearing white is very important to everyone (not my mom!). I'm the only one who's obviously a minority. I've spent my entire life surrounded by people who didn't look like me. Not at home, not at school, not in magazines, or books, or on television. I didn't exist. And I certainly wasn't beautiful.

So, media representations of minorities? Important.

I'm a fan of Valentine's Day. I'm not sure why. I've been single every Valentine's Day of my entire life. I know of one happy marriage and I think it's because the people involved are unhealthy in a complementary manner. But Valentine's Day! Chocolate! Handmade cards! And I get to celebrate having the best friends in the entire world. One, in particular. Yeah, you.
And I get to buy my kiddo Valentines and candy, and there's a party with cupcakes and N. shares all her chocolate. It's my Vegetarian Anniversary (15 yrs!). And I get a present. For myself. Because I need an excuse. So. PUPPY.

Foster homes are not all bad. Saying a character was in a foster home should not be accepted shorthand for "had a bad childhood and was unloved."

Foster homes are not doing it for the money. For the love of god. Stop it. There is no way. Ever. It works out to being about maybe 1/2 of what you actually spend on a kid. MAYBE MAYBE if you had a kid with a lot of medical disabilities. It is an untaxed federal
reimbursement. Basically, it's child support from the state. So chill.

Foster children DO NOT share beds. Ever. Not with siblings, not with adults, not with animals. So the difficulty Clint has falling asleep alone cannot be attributed to never having his own bed. He did. And it was looked at twice a month by a worker.

The rooms cannot be co-ed. Ever.

Kids are moved for a LOT of reasons. It's not because the foster parents are bad. In my case I've moved two. Both because of their behavior towards the other children I had. Kids have been moved to be with siblings, to be in different school districts, to be closer to visits, to be closer to treatment, and to be institutionalized.
The system is awful and chews up everyone involved. But behind most foster kids is a series of tired women holding the hands of babies they won't get to keep.

I need to update my ghost story. I told it to my mom and she corrected me. There was a mistranslation. It wasn't ghosts but Kowi Anukasha, who are the Choctaw little people. So I guess the story needs to be re-branded as a supernatural (well...natural) tale.
Plus, she reminded me that ghosts would be unable to affect the physical world in such a concrete manner. Obviously.