I’m cheating and answering this because it’s late after a long day and getting two of three dogs swabbed for DNA testing. We are trying to figure out how to swab grumpy Harvey’s cheek. But anyway.
I know what breeds the other dogs are, so Vlassic doesn’t get swabbed.
My decorating style at this point in life is ranch eclectic, with a dose of hippie/witchy stuff. Lots of wood and natural stone for the ranch part, and art mostly by people I know and silly collectibles for the eclectic. All the Buddha statues, St. Brigid statues, and tarot stuff make up the rest.
Best I can find of living room.
And Lee contributes piles of stuff (me to some extent).
But it’s homey and comfortable, and I have lots of flowers and horses to cheer me up.
An old photo of my office, but it mostly looks like this.
I really enjoy looking at nicely decorated homes and read many magazines on architecture and interior design. I’m also fascinated by how homes looked in the past. But that doesn’t mean I want to live in a perfect environment. A little mess doesn’t bother me. I salute those of you who can’t abide clutter. It’s just not me.
Funny the prompt should ask. My tarot group met tonight, and the reading we did was about manifesting the future with guidance from the collective consciousness and universal spirit (something like that). And the cards I drew reflected my concerns about the state of the USA right now and my growing resolve to put in the work to do something about it.
I got the message that I need to first rest and recuperate (all that tooth stuff) and to turn away from paths that don’t serve me. That’s what the Michael Pollan book on consciousness was making me think, too.
But most important, I saw that while things are going to get bad for a while, probably very bad, there is a good chance we can all rebuild a nation with goodwill and harmony. And that’s my biggest dream, that I’ll live to see us figure out a system not run by corporations, super-elites, and their insane puppet leaders. I want to live where people can live differently, have different paths, and all that, but care for each other.
We have to be strong, have resolve, and believe we can create the world we envision. And if we fail, we will know we tried.
It’s no secret that I’m a big fan of Michael Pollan. He fearlessly investigates what makes us human and is delightfully unafraid to test out his own ideas and find them wrong. A World Appears (2026) is his latest, an exploration into what it means to be conscious, and for that matter, what exactly consciousness is.
The title refers to what happens as we open our eyes from sleeping. A world appears. How does that work? Hint: the answer to the consciousness question is not really the goal of the book. The goal is to explore various ways of addressing “the big question” and how close they come to an answer.
Pollan interviews a wide range of fascinating scientists, deep thinkers, academics, and spiritual leaders in his quest. Some think they have the answers, some think they’re getting close, and others doubt we’ll figure consciousness out.
Mostly, Pollan drinks a lot of tea. If you listen to the audiobook you can make a drinking game where you down a shot of an interesting beverage every time he sits down with a pot of tea to interview someone. I guess consciousness scholars aren’t coffee drinkers. (Aside: Lee and I have a drinking game for every time an HGTV host says “pop of color”.)
Other than that quirk, I enjoyed reading along as Pollan thinks about what the experts tell him and points out where he thinks they have a point or are a little off. I was fascinated by the idea that consciousness is controlled by the cerebellum, not cortex, and I loved learning how many other living things may well be conscious, depending on how it’s defined.
Other parts of the book delve into whether machines can be conscious. All sorts of conflicting ideas come up in this part of the book. I will say I’m hoping Pollan’s conclusions on this one are right.
Fans of Pollan will not be surprised that psychedelics come into play when trying to figure out how to escape consciousness. Meditation is also invoked (and I’m more familiar with the brief flashes of transcendence from this method—brief—that’s why it’s a practice). It’s all fascinating.
One thing missing from the book is what happens when we are asleep. Are we completely unconscious? What do dreams have to do with our stream of consciousness? Maybe that’s another book.
All in all, this was a fun book that gave me much to think about and more tools in my toolbox to figure out what “I” am. It’s deep!
I did it. I packed up about half my clothing to go to the local thrift shop. Everything else is on hangers, folded, or in the correct drawer. Today’s push to the finish line took me three tries with some resting in between, but I did it.
Looking in from the door. The surface of the island/drawers is visible.
While some folding isn’t very good (ahem, the jeans and sweaters), it looks way better as it is. I know where my dresses and sleeveless tops that aren’t polyester are (polyester ones are gone). I can see my dress pants. Outfits are stored together. Lee wanted to know how I group things. It’s pretty idiosyncratic, but I’ll share. Here are my categories:
Fancy dresses/tops (small category)
Wraps
Dresses (long sleeve, short sleeve, sleeveless)
Tunics, same groupings
Button-up shirts
Nice work tops
Work ensembles (items with matching accessories)
Political t-shirts
Long-sleeve casual
Holiday and Buc-ees tees
Winter shirts
Long-sleeve plain t-shirts
Long sleeve state park
Solid t-shirts
Tie-dye t-shirts
State/national park short sleeves
T-shirts with birds, flowers, etc., by color
Dallas Cowboy shirts
Master Naturalist shirts
Sleeveless tops
Sweatshirts
Rock/folk music shirts
Dress pants
Vests
Scarves and belts
Jackets
Purses on top shelf
Boxes for bathing suits, gloves, etc.
Shoes. Yes they are organized, too. I’ll spare you.
This is ridiculous.
You can see the jean pile and jewelry area I still have to clean.
I even removed many shoes and the only ones on the floor are house slippers and summer sandals, which have a niche. That was a lot of work, too. I have about 200 empty hangers but do not plan to acquire that many clothes! Now I need to make myself hang clean clothing as soon as it’s finished. Wish me luck.
I am proud.
I found a couple of items to pass on to friends or family. But mostly I hope the good stuff I’m passing along brings someone else joy. I’m ready to pass out.
Is this not the most clueless selfie ever? The hair! The dirt and sweat on shirt! The eyes looking at who knows what! But I did my job.
Let’s just hope I can keep it going better than I usually do. It’s very hard to show people your closet. Makes you feel vulnerable.
I rewarded myself for all that closet cleaning I’ve been doing by saying yes to an invitation to meet our friends Mike and Martha at the bakery in town. Lee even agreed to come along, though he was displeased that screeching children were hurting his ears. Nonetheless we all had nice conversations.
The bakery is so cute and GOOD. Visit Shirley Mae’s Bakery if you’re ever in Cameron, Texas.
Since I am the lesser hermit, I enjoyed talking to Martha, my friend Mary who was there with her family, and my son and his partner, who also came in. Then I had to have a good chat with the bakery owner’s dad and their nice employee, who collects Native American jewelry and is a Master Gardener, so she knows some of my friends.
We both love wildflowers!
This, dear readers, is why small-town living can be pleasant. I enjoy it much more now that I’m not paranoid about gossip and mean-spirited people. I’m glad I’m better at not caring about people who aren’t nice.
After all that socialization I was fine with watching some TV (finished Hawk and got through much of Ride or Die today) in the quiet house.
Of course, I spent two more hours putting clothing into boxes and moving things around. I almost finished sorting everything hanging up, and I disposed of two garbage bags of plastic hangers from my old house.
This was a mess. It’s my work outfits, dresses, and what passes for dress-up attire. Master Naturalist, football, and sleeveless items on top, sweatshirts below )more to hang). At right are vests and jackets.
I still have a big pile of stuff to hang, now that there’s room for it, and plenty of hangers! That shows you how big the purge was. Tomorrow the hanging stuff will be hung, and if I have time, shoes will be culled* and arranged.
The horror! Goal is to have the surface of this island visible tomorrow.
My teeth still hurt but it’s better every day. I think the dry socket is healing. I think I’ll join my sleeping beauties and indulge in my favorite activity, sleep.
Carlton and Benito are doing much better these days. B is healing.
(*Sue, that’s the word my typo was trying to be yesterday)
Sometimes I’m not sure. I’m more of a collector, or so I tell myself. And I have sentimental attachments to objects that seem to have meaning. Assigned by me, no doubt.
I should collect wildflowers. They disappear.
I decided I’d gone too far in my closet when it was getting to where it was just solid clothing with paths among it. It got that way partially because the contents of the “holiday closet” got shoved in there when the air conditioning unit was being worked on and no one put the boxes and weird foam mattress pad back.
That made it harder to hang clothing…and ugh. I also had been putting off my annual clothing purge, because I knew there would be things that had to go but meant a lot to me at one time (silly shirts I bought just to support a store, and horse show attire I’ll never wear again, for example). It’s my fault it’s painful; I need to get over my sensitive self.
Carlton is trying to look judgmental at me, but the yarn hanging from his mouth makes it look like he has a gang.
But, as I’ve mentioned, I got the process started last week and have made good headway. I have one whole side of the hanging clothing thinned out. I need to make space so I can rearrange clothing by my idiosyncratic categories.
Looks full? I culled this by at least half.
I still need to get the long wall of hangers sorted. I think there’s very old clothing Lee has brought in from storage, which also explains why I feel like a hoarder. Two separate wardrobes are crammed into one closet (albeit a very large closet). And I have always collected t-shirts. I purge them, and more magically appear with funny bird sayings and such.
This is long-sleeved shirts on top (right side is long-sleeved shirts from travels) and holiday shirts plus casual long-sleeves on the bottom. At left is the section of dressy tops that I have gone through.
I’m posting about this to keep myself accountable. Now that I’ve shared my project, I hope I’ll be more encouraged to complete it. And I know the local thrift store will be pleased. I have two more very large boxes for them. I’m not a hoarder, I guess. I just make piles and cull them.
My tooth still hurts a bit. I hope the dry socket didn’t dry out again.
If you could have dinner with any fictional character, who would it be?
Just a quick one. I knew the answer to this one right off. I’d love to have dinner with Sherlock Holmes. I’d like him to tell me horrible facts about myself just from looking at me and proceed to tell me how insufferably boring I am.
Then I’d probably talk to John Watson.
And I choose Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock, please.
Hello everyone, especially those I did not see in my brief visit to Cedar Park yesterday and this morning. I’m relieved to report that the outcome of my dental adventure this morning was good. I feel very much better.
And the crowd goes wild! Hurrah! photo from Pexels
When I dragged myself in to the dentist office, they knew what was up immediately. I should have probably gone in last Friday. I had dry socket, which more often happens in wisdom tooth extractions, but occurs in 1-2% of all extractions. The blood clot that usually forms at the bottom of the site gets dislodged and that exposed raw nerves and bone. Yeah, that could explain some extreme pain.
So they put a lot of anise-smelling stuff in there and packed it back in. I’m pretty sure I caused the issue by trying to swish water around to keep the site clean. That didn’t help at all, and instead made it worse. Live and learn.
Rules after extractions are to not smoke, not use a straw, and not swish water around. Well. I didn’t smoke.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it to the root canal part of the appointment, because I uncharacteristically tensed up when the dentist was putting the anesthetic in. It hit a nerve or something and really hurt. When he finished, I started shaking, turned pale, and began to have some impressive back spasms, over and over. Yow, that hurt. And it scared us all (me, the dentist, and the technician). It finally passed and I was okay for the procedure. Root canal is a piece of cake compared to a messy extraction.
During all the drilling and poking, I imagined I was back in South Carolina, looking forward woodpeckers.
Everyone was so kind to me, and we had good conversations when I settled down. Lots about dogs. And the receptionist was really impressed by my temperature blankets (it came up because I said I was excited it hit 100° yesterday so I could use hot pink yarn.
After Lee got me home (so nice not to have to drive), I fell asleep for a long time. I was so tired from hurting. Tonight I have just a little pain, but I’m optimistic it will be better tomorrow.
I look forward to two months of no dentist! Nice guy, but this week was hard.
Lee is a good guy under his grumpy facade. When he realized I was going to drive in early tomorrow morning for a root canal on my still-painful teeth, he volunteered to drive me to Cedar Park this evening and get a hotel room near my dentist so I can sleep a bit more, and I’ll have him to drive me home. I feel so pampered
Oh look, it’s 183 and 620. That intersection was a four-way stop in the 1990s.
And then he offered to take me out to eat something both good and soft. Conveniently, one of my favorite quiet sushi/Chinese restaurants is within walking distance of the hotel. We could walk there, even in 103° heat and not suffer!
View looking toward where friends live.
When I come to the old Lakeline Mall area, in the vortex where Austin, Cedar Park, and Round Rock meet, I am surprised at what nostalgia pops up. I am in a place I spent my child-rearing years, near many dear friends and places I once lived. I look out the window and know Catherine and Carolyn/Lyndy are not too far. Sniff. But I’m in no shape to visit!
The extent of the nostalgia I feel is limited to people, former homes, the interesting geological aspects of the limestone karst, and nice places to eat. I miss those. I don’t miss traffic and having so many people around. There are always trade offs!
My chirashi sushi dinner pampered me well, and a glass of plum wine drowns out the throbbing. I did make it through the day without painkillers, so maybe I won’t bruise up awfully tomorrow.
Blurry sunset over a movie theater.
I’ve never looked less forward to a dental appointment. Just gotta go inward and get through it. I’ll never make fun of people who get wound up before dental work again.
What app eats up most of your screen time — and do you even feel bad about it?
Great news for me—I have another fun question to answer while not much is going on around the ranch but work, heat, dogs, and my sore mouth. I have overdone the NSAIDs and it’s making my old lady red spots go into overdrive. The pain is a bit less, so I’ll cut down starting tonight.
Barely need to rub on the skin to get this. Yuck.
However, the question was about apps. Here’s what my phone has to deal with every day.
Merlin Bird ID: it has its own phone, so it’s on much of the day, but I only look at it every couple of hours. It’s very important for my bird data, you know. (Yeah, I’m such a scientist.)
Facebook: sorry, haters, but I keep up with old friends, new acquaintances, and lots of horses and dogs. I’m encouraged by the kindness and interesting ideas I come across. I skip repetitive ads based on the things I’ve been talking or thinking about, and only very rarely do I see offensive, ignorant, or mean content. I’ve curated my feed. No, I have no secret other than liking what I like and ignoring the rest.
Finch. I check this cute self-care app 3-4 times a day. It reminds me to do kind things and lets me engage in harmless play with a few friends. It’s really good for my mental health. I can send my friend code; just ask.
Crossword: the Redstone Games crossword app is great. There are themes, different creators whose puzzles you can play, and many levels of difficulty. There are always new games. It’s good for keeping your brain sprightly. I play a game or two per day. Lee is constantly playing.
INaturalist. I’d say I add one or two observations per day or hundreds when I’m traveling. I love to look up whatever plants, birds, insects, or other creatures are near me. It’s endlessly fascinating.
WordPress or JetPack or whatever they’re calling it. I do blog a while most days. Yesterday was too uneventful for me to dredge up anything, so I skipped. I like WordPress just fine. I have always enjoyed putting words on the internet and formatting them. It’s what I do. For me.
Others I use often are Clime weather (official live radar maps), Google for asking questions, LinkedIn to check on work buddies, Gmail for the occasional personal email, Zoom/Teams for chatting, the camera app (duh), and boring banking and financial apps.
Do I feel bad about any of it? Heck no. The only app I felt bad about using was Bejeweled. I used it to escape from my daily life for about ten years. Things got better and I stopped.
Benito is settling in well. He’s very attached to Lee.
No doubt younger readers have very different app preferences. These folks have never known a time without apps. I guess books and drawing paper were my “apps.” I got lost in them!
The Hermits' Rest 