Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

Perrine is bored. I was a lump all yesterday -- I did manage to crawl downstairs to move the car (street cleaning day) and accept a gift of interesting homegrown tomatoes from my neighbour, but then I retreated to bed because my whole %$#^ing body just hurt too much to move. Every so often, Perrine came in, cried or chirped or raised her paw -- or dragged the slicker brush off the headboard as a hint -- then left again because I was being a lump. The time I did try to brush her, she was less enthusiastic than usual, leading me to suspect that she really just wanted attention in general, not brushing in particular, and asked for the brush because it's something she knows how to ask me for. If my back didn't hurt so terribly, I would chase her around the house (the exercise would probably do us both good).

She's not the only one I've been neglecting due to feeling so extremely awful, just the one present to complain in person.

I just took this morning's meds ... and it looks like I missed yesterday's morning dose of Ultram. Er ... that might explain why yesterday was an 'I can't move' day instead of just a 'damn, this hurts' day. Whoops. (Have I mentioned lately how I dislike needing so many doggone pills and inhalers and such? *pout*)

I'd planned to visit the pharmacy and the nail salon but accomplished neither -- just getting to the other side of the street was a challenge. Oh well, I've got my agenda for today if I feel any better, I guess. I did take my Ultram and naproxen this morning, so let's see how his goes. I have to pace myself if I'm going to get to HCB rehearsal.

I've got my agenda, and tomatoes. (And some root vegetables grown by another friend, given to me at the end of Pennsic.) The tomatoes are not going to last very long. They're rather sweet (as I think I've mentioned other tomatoes grown in the area being this summer are as well). And they showed up on a day when I was feeling too wretched to cook. Nope, snack-worthy fruit aren't going to last very long. (The remaining beets aren't going to remain much longer either; it'll take me a bit longer to get through the onions.) The wee yellow tomatoes are already gone, sacrificed to my lack of restraint (they were yummy). I don't think I'd had yellow tomatoes before, just red and orange ones. These weren't quite as sweet as anniemal's tiny red tomatoes, but they were certainly in the "can't possibly mistake this fruit for a vegetable" range, verging on "but you might mistake it for candy" for a few specimens.

A propos of which (fruit, that is): I caught an Arabber in my neighbourhood a few days ago (I'm not usually quick enough; this isn't a spot where they linger), and bought bananas from him -- which let me postpone a trip to the supermarket that I wasn't really up for. Apparently the city is still trying to drive Arabbers off the streets -- or is trying to do something else which has that as a side effect, I'm not entirely certain which -- despite their being an element of Baltimore's history and its charm. (And isn't it nice when food comes to you instead of your having to walk|drive|ride a bus to a shopping center?) He said he'd been an Arabber since he was twelve years old: thirty-six years in that trade. The bananas weren't spectacular, but they were worth what I paid for them and fresh enough that I could eat them all in the following few days before they got browner and spottier than I like. Which is about all one can reasonably ask of bananas, innit?

On my way across the street to buy the bananas, I did have a somewhat disconcerting encounter with the Arabber's previous customer, who appeared to be an official with the fire department (office attire and a shiny red car with Baltimore Fire Department markings on the doors). He asked me about my choice of clothing, which isn't all that unusual a beginning to encounters with strangers ... but then he acted suspicious and a little bit hostile at my response. Not the common homophobic hostility or the sees-me-as-betraying-my-sex hostility that I've seen so often (and his initial question was polite and he seemed relaxed when he asked it), but more like he had a problem with my answer ("It's just who I am"). The effect was as though he were a cop instead of a firefighter, and was convinced that I was Up To No Good but he just didn't have enough on me to do anything about it yet and wanted to prolong the encounter in order to find some excuse. Not a vibe I appreciate from city authorities (or any other). A bit of esprit d'escalier: I realized later that when his tone shifted, instead of repeating my first answer, I should have said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I gave you the wrong answer the first time. I meant to say, 'it's not any business of yours.'" What did he think, that a T-shirt and broomstick skirt is the uniform of some arsonist sisterhood or something?

I'm accustomed to folks who start out relaxed and politely curious staying that way (or thanking me for satisfying their curiosity), and folks who are going to be hostile and wary being that way from the get-go. I found the sudden shift disconcerting and even offensive. Not to mention just plain perplexing.

Okay, time to feed the kitty-cat and myself, drag myself out for errands, and try to finish the math email I started before and didn't finish because the pain took over. Then I have some coding to do before the 28th (rewriting my auto-posting script). Eventually I need to make time to edit those couple-thousand Pennsic photos. (Photos which portray a fraction -- a largeish fraction perhaps but still the lesser part -- of What Pennsic Is.) Here's one last photo I felt like tossing into this entry just because it was in between a couple of the others on the memory card.

Oh, today's the PUG deadline, isn't it? Hmm.