Regardless of all the tee lights and candles, scented, or not, I feel the darkness. Guess it's that time of the year again. We have had no snow yet. It's only naked bare trees surrounded by the murky darkness of November.
Every once in a while the sun comes out. On those days, I go outside feeling happy and smiling. And immediately have tears running down my cheeks, because the sun is so low, the glare of the beams hits you directly in the eyes. The reflections off of poodles and wet asphalt aren't helping. It's painful. I'm sure the sun is sending me a message about how hard it it is to come out way up here in the cold north. I almost shout back at her: "Alright I get it. Fine! You go back into hiding you vicious moody bitch!" But I don't, because even though my eyes are hurting, I feel her warmth, barely, on my face, and it is still healing.
Marianne is no longer a puppy *sad panda face* Now, when grumpy old dogs yell(read bark) at her, she'll reply likewise. She no longer throws herself down crying for mercy at tiny adult dogs we meet. She meets their gaze with a gaze of her own; C'mon, you mofos, bring it on, cause I'm not backing off anymore!
She doesn't get over the top excited by leaves blowing in the wind, anymore, either. It makes me a bit wistful, but at the same time, she's not aggressive towards other dogs, which is good. Nor does she think the neighbour's garden ornaments are dangerous aliens out to get her. She's slowed down, calmed down, heck, she's lazier than I am. " Are we going for a walk, today? No? Goodie! I'll just nap on the sofa a bit more. Lets snore in tandem"
I did a proper effort regarding quitting smoking this fall. I got Champix from my doctor and started on them in August. It worked. I had cut down to a minimum and got started on the second stage of pills and freaked out. I was aware of the dreaming weird dreams thing, but this was a whole other game. The dreams turned into nightmares that left me exhausted in the morning. Childhood traumas kept popping up like spiders in a cellar. After a few days of total panic attacks with the sweating, shaking, hyper ventilating, I called the doctor and asked for help. The doctor was kind, sent off a request for therapy - which was denied, btw.
I sat down to think, because I don't normally get panic attacks. I'm usually able to notice them sneaking up and avoid them by change of mind set, etc. This was unfamiliar and scary.
It finally dawned on me - the damn champix pills. I quit and after a few days, the nightmares and the panic attacks disappeared.
So, I'm back to smoking, but I'm not losing my mind. I still have issues that sorely needs to be dealt with. I'll have to find a way to get help with that. Someway. Somehow. Sometime.
I'll just have to quit smoking the hard way, I guess. Ugh! Will have to get my big girl panties on and do it
Simen shot his first deer last weekend. A nice young buck. Clean shot. I'm happy, he and his dadman are ecstatic. Christmas dinner is now fully provided. Which is a good thing, as we'll be the entire clan Jakobsen this year. Runar and I are cooks, as usual. Dinner is at the inlaws. It'll be fun.
I taught the neigbour farmer up at Vintland how to knit. We're making a patchwork blanket together. Fun. I'm also chrocheting shawls. I've got to use some of the yarn I inherited.
I've broaden my horizon regarding erotic romances. I've read a few kindle books by someone from my AFP Facebook group and they were a lot of fun. Very sci fi, which I liked a lot.
I stumbled onto some BDSM type of audiobooks by going with some of Amazon's recommendations that had Runar die a million deaths. He'd moan, hide his face and claim" Eli, you're killing me!" when he walked in while it was playing on the stereo. Then he'd stop, look at me with an evil, devilish gleam in his eyes, asking "You're into this!?!" That had me freaked out. We agreed on there being something for everyone, out there. Now I'm using ear pieces. No more speakers. Sheesh!
My mom fell down and broke her hip this week. She had surgery yesterday. My dad and I are visiting her this afternoon. He wants to ride with me, cause he loves my new car. It's easy for him to get in and out of, and his wheel chair fits easily in the back. He's got issues with his dentures. He's got a denture set for his upper front teeth that keeps falling out while he eats. We've been visiting the dentist at least once a week for a month now, trying to get them fixed. It's tiring for him and painful for my arms/shoulders. He's shrunk a lot this last year, but he's still a big heavy guy and the chair is heavy. We also have to be very careful and mindful with his body, as his meds have thinned his skin to the point where the lightest of touches causes his skin to fall off in big layers. It's scary. He hates being old and fragile. He wants to die, but hangs in there for us girls. I love him. I know it's getting near the time to let him go. I can't talk about that, though. too painful.