(no subject)

Driving to the doctor's appointment i noticed a few trees with a bit of blush on the crown. In general, the trees seem green with the yellow dapples of leaf change here and there. Plenty pf leaves on the ground.

I'm growing to trust this doctor more. He heard my concern about a high heart rate event, asked detailed questions, and then was able to suggest some alternative causes and describe the details around worrisome possibilities that didn't line up with my experience.

I had conversations with my sister around ADHD and then with my therapist, and then with Christine. My sister is cautiously accepting. Her cryptic statement meant apparently that her kids pointed it out to her, and told her of my brother's son's diagnosis. She talked to my brother who has apparently self diagnosed himself.

My therapist disclaimed any up-to-date knowledge but encouraged me to read up.

Christine was very dubious, suggested a certain amount of learned behavior from my parents/mother, but as the evening went by and i shared things, she was laughing how some of the ways we have just noticed as differences between us were mentioned as characteristics.

I read

Sarkis, Stephanie Moulton, and Patricia O. Quinn, Adult ADD: A Guide for the Newly Diagnosed (Oakland, UNITED STATES: New Harbinger Publications, 2011), NC-Live <> [accessed 19 October 2021]

which was helpful, if a decade old. Assuming no great changes, a diagnosis seems to require impairment. I look at the word impairment and note that it's a cultural judgement and not a scientific assessment. Culturally, i'm not impaired, but Christine acknowledged (and suggested the term) cognitive burden. I do think some of the ways in which AHDH causes difference has created a burden for me.

Reading "symptoms" or diagnostic criteria said many ways and put in different contexts, i see some patterns. I am fascinated that the antidepressant i find very useful is also used for ADHD, and the language i use to describe it seems very tied to ADHD -- it makes it possible for me to be motivated.

I didn't pull this journal's LiveJournal title to Dreamwidth, apparently, but "Moving at the Speed of Procrastination" continues to be a frame i have for myself -- and there's a tie with the ADHD functions.

Apparently there's ties with depression -- whether causal or correlated apparently seem hard to untangle. ADHD is a dopamine deficiency.

I looked at

Safren, Steven, Susan Sprich, Michael W. Otto, and Michael W. Otto, Mastering Your Adult ADHD, Client Workbook: A Cognitive-Behavioral Treatment Program (New York, UNITED KINGDOM: Oxford University Press, Incorporated, 2005), NC-Live <> [accessed 19 October 2021]

for a short time, then closed it up. Before i embark further, i want to coordinate with my therapist. The whole model of time management that i have struggled with for years isn't going to magically be fixed because i have a label. We have been working on me accepting that what i am doing is OK. Me trying to tilt at time management again may not be the right direction for me. I was surprised at how much visceral anger i could tap just reading a patronizing paragraph about getting organized using a filing cabinet. I know what organized looks like, i understand the goal, it just falls apart so fast and takes all my energy to keep up. I could stay organized OR get things done.

Anyhow. Off to the day.
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Notes in the perennial inventory

As a sense of scale, the coleus -- the magenta plant with the yellow green flower s sticking up -- is about 3 foot high and wide.

Major maintenance on front porch garden bed. Left annual impatiens and coleus alone. Weeded bases of hellebores, bugbanes, lady fern, and Christmas fern near steps. Moved moss to base of plants. Piled old wet pinestraw around plants and flamed the rest of the weeds. Removed pine straw to back of bed. Planted a Christmas fern (one that was rescued before the porch work and spent the summer in the sunchokes) under the window at the back for winter focus. Planted the new "forever purple" Heuchera and the rehabbed 'lemon love' Heurcha in soil amended from the "worm" bin. Assembled low cages for them for herbivory protection for a while. Planted stonecrop "Boogie woogie" close to the border. Might not get sun until next spring. Hopefully it will cope. Mulched with the two bales of pinestraw.

"Christmas fern (FrtE, 110)",
"Christmas fern (FrtE, 111)",
"Bugbane 'Brunette' (FrtE, 109)",
"Southern Lady fern (FrtE, 116)",
"Bugbane 'Pink spike' (FrtE, 112)",
"Heuchera x 'Lemon Love' (FrtE, 117)",
"Heuchera Forever® Purple (FrtE, 114)",
"Helleborus X 'Winter Delights Violet' (FrtE, 120)",
"Helleborus 'Tropical Sunset' HONEYMOON® Series (FrtE, 118)",
"Sedum 'Boogie Woogie' PPAF CPBRAF ROCK 'N GROW® Collection (FrtE, 119)"

Only a few of the plants were on the perennial list, none in the inventory. So not only did the work in the garden take a while, but the documentation took a while. If the plants live, it will be worth the time investment in the record. Planning the front garden spanned the note taking period from Evernote, to markdown, to airtable.

I don't get notes in the log as frequently as i like, but it's getting easier.

--== ∞ ==--

Woke this morning to find the heat on.

Speaking of Evernote, i missed canceling and was charged for this next year. Argh.
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Mental Health (depression, critter watch, cats)

So midafternoon, working in the yard today, i was overcome with a sense of despair. So much to do, so out of time, energy.

Showering later, i wondered if the despair was triggered by >> fear << as i used the flame thrower to kill weeds. Yesterday's rain wasn't nearly enough to be protective, and the air was blissfully dry (and breezy). The morning dew was past (except in the orchard, which would have been still too wet too mow), and i worried. I had had such ambitions on Saturday, but now nothing seemed safe.

Fear? Or just sensible apprehension of risk? I dunno.

--== ∞ ==--

A white cat with a black tail was at the back of the orchard this morning when i tried calling Marlowe in for breakfast. I called to them, and they slowly walked off into the woods, Marlowe standing on her hind legs watching them leave. Moments later i heard a deer snort in surprise, and then a little later, another snort. Christine has named the cat Ghost, and we've now set out food. I wonder if it was just walking through.

Later in the afternoon, a deer galloped through the yard. I don't think it saw me: it was out in the brilliant sun and i was in the deep shadow on the north side of the house. Rutting season already?

--== ∞ ==--

I recently read a column in the NY Times about mental illness. The author had been recently diagnosed with adult ADHD, so i clicked the link to the list of symptoms in women.

I was... surprised... at how familiar they were.

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(garden, weather)

Wow, that week flew by. Work work work.

Today i had some time in the yard, the garden. I transplanted some very leggy lacinato kale that survived the summer and neglect. I have a theory that i could plant them deeply and the stems will root. We'll see. They wilted pretty quickly.

The parsley i found in the weeds wilted when transplanted. I moved sochan (cut-leaf coneflower) volunteers to the east end of the rows -- closest to the woods, furthest from the house. Despite cutting down trees south of the garden in hopes to make sure it had sun, the east side of the garden clearly suffers from the shade. So, maybe the right thing to do is try and put shade-friendly perennials at the end of all those rows.

A wildflower called Devil's Grandmother or Elephant's Foot (Elephantopus tomentosus) has been sprouting in the garden. I've let it grow and now am transplanting it to places i'd love it to do well. I love it's low flat rosette of leaves and its single stem with little purple puffs of flowers. The problem is that the rosette goes away in the winter, which means my weedy nemesis Indian (as in India) strawberry can cover the ground while it's away. It also likes dry places, so mulching over winter seems unlikely to be a good match. I moved several plants to a place by the driveway which seems like a good fit. I will continue to try and think of other places it could thrive.

I watered the wilting transplants.

Rain was predicted. I looked at the weather map and saw nothing on radar in North Carolina, i looked at the sky. Very blue, no sign of the rain predicted at three pm. I came inside for a lunch break and stepped back outside. Ah, yes, it *is* going to rain. I bustled around, mowing as much stilt grass hiding in the lawn as i could.

The rain started at 3:05. Most of the cells went north of us, we didn't really get hit by much. It's now cooler and drier outside: the windows are open. Frog and insect chorus fills the night, occasional long woosh as a vehicle passes by. I miss the cool nights sleeping with windows open in California. Even on the rare occasions when we could now, Christine dislikes the drafts.

Rare, because the dew point has to be such that it's not going to be sopping wet in the morning, humidity needs to be low relative to the usual house humidity, and it can't be freezing -- which is usually when the air dries out.

--== ∞ ==--

I do not need a new computer, hopefully for many more years, but when i do, i'm admiring The modular bays are brilliant.
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(observe, justice)

Every time i ponder the original peoples of the land i live on, i find myself encountering contested names, contested history. The writers of the records of the times were the English colonists at the coast; their insight into how native peoples shifted and moved inland in reaction seems quite limited. The Tuscorora war and relationships with colonizing whites is problematic with some peoples migrating away and treating with the colonist, while other remained. The people remaining were denied existence/identity. Current reading of native people's writings reveals tensions in the indignities of bending to Federal and state declarations of recognition, tensions in how culture is promulgated, (an essay on pan-Indian identity vs traditionalist, for example).

Was this Tuscorora land? Shakori? How do you honor people whose names were erased, folded in with other peoples? How do you recognize the empty spaces in the history, on the map: A village for this people was *here*, is that just because the path didn't take them by other villages elsewhere?

Then there's diaspora -- migrations away, being absorbed by other communities -- and remaining, adapting to the colonialist, being segregated, denied. So descendants debate looking for federal recognition, with long Federally or State recognized communities rejecting claims, advocating against recognition.

I recognize this area was, prior to the land grants of the Lords Proprietor and the claim of the crown of England, home to many peoples. As riverside towns and villages seem to be the way the native people organized, i will identify that it was the Peoples of the Haw river (who may or may not have been Sissipahaw/Saxahapaw) who stewarded this land.
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(garden, health, bread notes)

The late white aster is making a show these days. I love when the asters finally explode into a bright whiteness. I still have some other yellow flowers - golden rod and bidens, i think - blooming in the meadow, but the white asters are at peak. I think they are Symphyotrichum pilosum var. pilosum (frost aster).

I did get some plants in the ground yesterday, apparently more of a workout than i expected. So stiff! Didn't get back out later because my heart was racing after lunch and i just felt poorly. I will mention my Dad's heart issues to the doctor and will note this event. Piffle.

Wasps have found the figs: it's a bit of a challenge to pick when they are active.

First loaf from Kitta Grau showing where the top was pushed up. Seven seconds of "thumping" (a sign of doneness) at

The loaf of rye is edible, but a gummy brick. It tastes good, so there is that. But the culture didn't have any lift. I think my rye flour needs more water than the recipe calls for, so in the future i will not merely trust that the recipe will work out, but will add water. I had gone forward with the bread making because there was some structure in the sponges, even though no lift. No rise when i proofed, as well. Perhaps i need a warmer home for proofing and keeping the sponges. I'll reread The Rye Baker to get temperatures for those steps. And order an oven temperature gauge. I could have sworn i had one.

In the photo, you can see how FINALLY, in the oven, the bread finally decided to expand.

Maybe i will cheat with some yeast in later stages on the next try. Admittedly, in my ponderings about my sensitivities to bread but not gluten, a sensitivity to yeast has seemed possible. It's part of my willingness to fight for the no-wheat added rye bread.
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bread notes

So, attempting a Vilnius rye today. The techniques for the all rye (well, no wheat) breads i admire generally involve souring -- fermenting -- much of the dough in stages. I started the first stage this morning. Again, i had the experience of the texture seeming not quite right and lacking water. I added more culture and water maybe a third of the way into the time, and i think i will "restart the clock" then. Except i am not waking in the middle of the night to start the second sponge. It can ferment until i wake.

This probably doesn't spell success, but we'll see.

I did make waffles from the discard from much of last week. I added molasses: yum! I do wonder if i should bother trying for loaves, and just waffle the fermented rye flour.

In other challenges, I have a big container of rye flour that had been sitting in the bottom of the pantry -- think ten or fifteen pounds or so, at least. It's from a 25 pound bag from right before the pandemic. At least five gallons if not larger. Last week i opened it to decant some for use. Today when i opened it, weevils were at the top. UGH. They aren't in a clear plastic bag of flour that i filled when i filled the bucket -- i guess they got in when i opened it? I took the bucket outside and scraped off the top inch or so, hoping that the problems went with the surface layer. I'll know soon as i can check the containers i decanted into today.

And, in roasting old malted rye, i went pretty much past toasted. But, whatever.
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Laptop is back.

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I'm glad it's a grey and wet wet day and i really don't want to be working outside. Because, ugh, i don't want to be working outside. SO driving around for hours is ... OK.

But, new bottom and battery, and then i busted the screen a year and a half ago so that's fairly new, and the keyboard is now new (and whatever remains had been replaced after the original machine from early 2016 kept crashing). I hope it continues to be useful for a very long time. And maybe stable?

My dad had complained to me last week about a phone tree nightmare he experienced. On his third time through, when the human was about to make the same transfer that disconnected the previous two times, he explained what happened. The agent said, yup, that's how it works, and off he went to limbo again. He and i shared some other similar stories. The next day, over lunch, i shared the stories with Christine and we talked about why -- we could identify that generally the employee executing the ritual of insanity quite likely didn't have the agency to even warn the customer. Scripts, recorded calls, employer demands could fence otherwise creative and compassionate people into a box. And the "broken system" might have some hidden functions (counts of disconnected calls used to fix insufficient lines, perhaps). Christine noted it was up to the customer to complain to fix the thing. Thus, my long missive above.

Knowing people who do quality assurance, knowing user experience and systems analysis are techniques people use to fix issues, it irks me to do it "for free." Also knowing the slow process for change -- over-extended teams, etc -- i know change can take a long time, and the complaints help move problems to the front of the queue. So, even if it seems pointless, it might be helping.
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(no subject)

Happy belated birthday to Oursin, whose daily wishes to others are a kind and joyful post many days.

And congratulations to Oracne, whose new novella Finding Refuge gave me a delightful break Monday evening. Oracne’s tale of after the adventure is over is the journey, and adventure, of healing. I appreciated the depiction of the work it takes to accept safety.

Meanwhile, I am supercranky and technology is annoying me. Not using my preferred input today.

Monday had challenges getting to email without opening my usual client (because it would remove mail from the cloud, just before sending the machine for repair, and not in the backup from the evening). I need to straighten out some passwords. I do have the iPad set up to access my main mailboxes, but I hate writing on this thing.

The machine is now getting a new battery and won't be back... until this weekend? I know I am whining about privileged problems here, and that all will be easier soon, and the slow boat my new laptop for work is taking will arrive sometime, too, and maybe I will have more ease during the workday, too.

The good news is one project I have been involved with is now out for community review, and my 3.5 minutes of presentation is over. (Public speaking, on zoom or in person, is not comfortable for me. Asking questions is just fine, but speaking….) I don’t know what the response will be (“we can’t do more” was the hint of a response in the questions) but I don’t know that comments will lead us to change much. Anyhow, a month during whic I am free of feeling like I should be doing more.

I, I , I. Auto correct is out of my control here. Thanks standardization.
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