massive dragonfly

This dragonfly hitched a ride on my bike halfway across the city today. I thought he'd landed there and died, until I got where I was headed and tried to take a photo, when he of course immediately took off. I caught him (or identical twin) an hour later on this sign post, once I was done. 

Work was interesting, massive dragonflies aside. I saw an asthmatic who's being detained for murder and also got to take his dental impressions - which Sherlock is wild to see, just in case he can see some difference between normal teeth and murderers' teeth. He says he'll need a much larger sample size, so will I please bring home all dental impressions I make (no).

Also a drugs case where I was called in with the hope I'd get permission from a man to do what's rather delicately called an 'intimate search'. He eventually said he'd given it to his six year old son to hold, which is...I don't know what that is. I suppose it could've been worse. In several ways.

Anyway, I was happy to get home - to a lovely dinner cooked by all three of my boys. And now we're watching blood drip off of things at this link L found. 

dot dot dot

Sherlock's after-school art class started today. L and I both went and were forced to participate (all right, I was forced, L did it of his own accord), and I'm glad. It was fun, although I am just as terrible as I thought I would be. We did watercolours this time, which makes sense with kids this age - relatively easy to clean up.

The teacher brought in a few different flowers and some fish (yes really, dead fish) to paint. I did a sunflower...more or less. Three guesses which Sherlock picked and the first two don't count. L did a fish with a flower for its eye which I thought was nice.

And the rest of this post will basically be a letter to L, because I feel like I could've handled this last...thing...that we went through better. Not that I necessarily know how. But sometimes typing is a lot easier than talking.

So...L. I know you think that I just don't like to talk about things...until later, when we're both miserable. It's really not that.

It's more like I'm convinced the only things I can think of to say are...things I feel would not be helpful to the situation, so I don't say them, but then I can't say anything else, so I just say nothing. I get scared of making things worse. Terrified, really. Which is...not helpful in thinking of things to say.

Do you think I used enough...ellipses in that?

Anyway. I don't know if hearing any of that helps. Or potentially makes things worse. But that's what's actually going on in my head when you're thinking I don't want to talk about it. I still don't know how to not do that next time, but maybe we could think of something? Sorry. I am trying. 

the guest house

On Tuesday, I went to see Dr E. It was mainly getting reacquainted, or perhaps I should acquainted for the first time, given how resistant I was to actually telling her anything before. I'm not terribly keen on it now, but I've realised that there are worse things. 

She asked what I wanted to get out of it. I said a lot of things, but what I came to in the end was that it would be good to be able to initiate difficult talks with L without making him feel like it's solely for his benefit, which I think I do. Maybe not intentionally, or at least not with conscious intention, but it's still not good. So. There's that to start with. 

From here: "This tractography image was made to help the neurosurgeon to choose the right approach for his neurosurgical planning. The surgery was at risk of damaging the visual field, as well as damaging complex sensory and visuospatial functions such as orientation in space, perception and motor functions."

The Guest House 

Rumi

translated by Coleman Barks

every day??

L is doing the posting every day thing that we did last November. I suppose I'll make the attempt as well (no promises). I feel singularly uninspired recently though, so I'll need your help. Questions? Post topics? Anything?

Do you think they let people get married in that bombed out church L likes?

Also, I have an appointment with Dr E next week, which L may or may not attend, as he likes. We'll see how that goes. When I rang her she seemed to think I must've fallen into some sort of deep and desperate depression and was rather surprised when I explained. I told her it served her right for not keeping up with my blog... 

three turn-ons

On the assumption that the game will stay popular for a while, I've put the answers post into the bar of links at the top of my blog so people can find it easily.

Day Eight: Three turn-ons.

If L can do it, so can I , I suppose... I think this was the worst one. Easier to think of but much harder to post. 

 

1. Competence. In particular at driving and fixing things around the house, but just in general as well.

2. A bit of dirty talk can be nice. 

3. Smoking. Look, I know, all right? I've dissected those lungs. Believe me, I know. Logic doesn't help. And it's only with certain people anyway.



Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.

three astonishing things

This man makes underwater sculptures that act as a hurricane barrier to protect coral reefs and also have started turning into coral reefs themselves. It's amazing and a little eerie to see the coral covering up the faces of the statues.

The second astonishing thing is the email I just got from my mum. I'd asked her why all her wedding china arrived on our front step in a large box on Saturday. She said: "Because you've got some sort of a family now and someone may as well get some good out of it."

The third astonishing thing you probably saw in the comments of yesterday's post... L offering to buy me that BMW bike, which, yes, I'm going to post its picture again so you can all admire it:

I feel sort of...overwhelmed about it. I wasn't seriously considering buying it, and it's more money than I've ever spent on anything in my life (those two things are probably related). And anyway, we haven't been on the test ride yet and it might not feel right.

But despite all my normal hedging and pessimism, I keep having to restrain myself from hugging L to death at random moments just for making the offer. He's amazing. 

motorcycles i shouldn't even be considering

The Triumph website lured me back with their design-your-own feature...

But then there was this BMW...

...that I really, really like, I mean look at it. That 'other bikes' menu doesn't work for me, by the way. I think they're trying to tell me that there are no other bikes.

I shouldn't even be looking at this, I was going to get something used. And I especially shouldn't be looking at it at work! 

something amazing

Here's a frog we saw while Sherlock was running us around the park yesterday. Or riding rings around us while we tried in vain to keep up. I stopped to take a picture. Or I coincidentally saw the frog while I was already stopped and bent over and panting. Take your pick. 

At breakfast, Sherlock introduced Mycroft to the idea of body painting for Pride (which may now be Sherlock's third favourite 'holiday', after his birthday and Christmas). Mycroft was wary, but not completely appalled. I may end up being the only unpainted member of our party. He suggested Sherlock ought to get painted-on wings, which would look quite nice and more importantly would not be a target, which was one of Sherlock's other ideas. I don't feel like I could reasonably veto that one, but it would make me feel a bit odd. 

Today...well, it's just gone seven, and Sherlock has so far made himself breakfast (cold cereal), spilled half a carton of milk on the floor, tried to soak it up with today's newspaper, dunked biscuits in his cereal milk, and squished up a banana inside its skin and then attempted to squirt it into his mouth with...exciting results. All before L and I were out of bed. 

When I emerged just now he said proudly, 'I didn't wake you up at all! Let's do something amazing today!' I said he could help me clean up banana and milk and then we could do something amazing. Ideas, anyone? 

Things that also need to happen today: (L, don't let me forget!) need to get a birthday card for my mum...and ask her why she has sent me a box full of her wedding china with no note of explanation. 

not-a-date night

When he was ready (clean shirt and socks, both very important for dates I'm sure), Sherlock went outside and knocked on the door...because he remembered Lestrade saying it didn't count as a proper date otherwise...

He must've gone online looking for places to go, because he had the address written down to give to the taxi driver. I was not allowed to see it in advance, and I was...mildly concerned about where we'd end up. But it was, to my relief, a perfectly ordinary Japanese restaurant - or mainly ordinary.

He said he was looking for sea urchin sushi and found this place instead (I'd link but they don't seem to have a website). They do okonomiyaki, which is sort of...a cross between an omelet and a pizza? I'd never had it before, but it was quite good. You get to pick what goes in it, and, most important to Sherlock, they cook it right in front of you. Here's a picture of mine being cooked:

We also had a few bits of sushi while it was cooking, but not sea urchin. Sherlock told the waiter we were on a date. The man cooking our okonomiyaki said he was from Hokkaido, and Sherlock asked him many questions about it. Sherlock also told him we were on a date, which caused...a bit of confusion. 

Having traumatised the staff, we headed out for... Oh, wait, I'm forgetting. 

At the end of the meal, Sherlock produced L's bank card from his pocket and said he would pay... He swore L gave it to him of his own free will, so I let him. I have no idea what the waiter thought, but he looked amused.  

We went to have liquid nitrogen ice cream - chocolate for him, and blueberry muffin for me. Had a nice walk, discussed various things, such as why bananas grow upside down (it's probably the right way up from the banana's perspective), the point of the Olympics, and why they shouldn't give misleading information on QI (Stephen Fry is still in his bad books over the bronze sky incident). 

We came home, and he presented me with a somewhat wilted collection of reeds and grasses, which he forgot to give me before we left. He said he thought they'd be better than flowers because they came from the pond we built and that he was careful to take all the bugs off and leave them at school. 

He's so sweet sometimes it amazes me. 

revenge of the eighties

This is the exact face I made when I saw the shirt he's wearing in this picture.

resolution

Well, let's see. Last year, I said I would...

1. Learn to cook one thing so Mrs Hudson can have a night off once in a while
2. Keep anyone I care for from getting kidnapped
3. Live

Three for three, not bad. Possibly the trick is to aim low. Nevertheless...

1. Run more (more than currently would not be difficult)

2. Keep everyone I love out of hospital (doesn't seem like it should be difficult, right?)

3. Get a life

Working at the surgery's a decent start, but I can do more. Need to do more, I think. Also, more physio for my shoulder. I stopped before I should've when I got out of hospital, which was stupid. Never got back to it, and it's good enough most of the time, but could be better. 

I was going to do a sort of summary of the year in list form, but looking back over all the entries... Maybe tomorrow, after I've had more sleep. 

Happy new year, everyone. I hope it brings you everything you want, or at least everything you need. 

impossibilities

So. Yesterday, one year ago, we all met Lestrade. It seems impossible that it's been that long and equally impossible that we haven't known him longer. Equally impossible that I haven't known Sherlock and Mycroft for much longer. Completely impossible that a year and a half ago I was still in Afghanistan.

Yesterday we went ice skating and to the Natural History Museum, wandered around, saw dinosaurs, got coffee and hot chocolate, had generally a marvelous day. I took L out for dinner, and afterwards he took me out dancing.

We weren't quite the oldest people there, but they were mainly in their twenties, generally sweaty, often shirtless. It was easy to imagine L there at that age. I wasn't sure I would like it (me and dancing...no) but it was actually a lot of fun. I have never been fond of being packed into crowds like that, that kind of heat and enforced intimacy with strangers and lack of an obvious exit route, but with L there it was...really nice. I didn't notice the rest of it so much, just him.

We got back...late. Later than I had planned. Poor Sally was asleep on the sofa. We definitely owe her baked goods of some sort. Probably more than one sort. She did say Sherlock wasn't much trouble though, which was a report we've previously only heard from Anthea, who would define a small bomb as 'not much trouble'. 

a difficult post to phrase politely

Anon wanted to know: When you've been with girlfriends is there anything you miss about men? And now you're with Greg is there anything you miss about women?

The short  answer is no. The slightly longer answer has to do with romance and why I've historically been pretty terrible at it.

In my early thirties I had a string of short-lived relationships with women - a few months each - and I came out of each of them not missing men exactly, but missing how much simpler things usually were with men. And I know (or assume) your question was referring to physical differences, but I never really cared about those much, it was all fine, all good.

The differences I saw were mental and emotional...and also they were nothing to do with the differences between men and women. They were about the differences in romantic relationships vs non-romantic.

But I didn't realise that for a long time, and in the back of my mind I think I blamed the women I was with for not being more like men. By which I meant wanting more of me than I was willing to give to anything except my job and my team.

And then I met Laura (the woman in Egypt, owner of Biscuit), who had no interest in me romantically, and that was great. And as a side effect, I became slightly less of an idiot.

Well. Maybe slightly less of an idiot. Because mainly it served to convince me that I wasn't fit for a romantic relationship at all. Maybe that was true at the time. Maybe not. I don't know really.

But in answer to your actual question instead of rambling about romance: no. I love the human body, I think it's amazing in just about every form, and there are so many more (and more important) differences - even just physical differences - from person to person than male vs female that I just don't think of it that way. I have occasionally missed someone's specific physical traits, but not not men or women in general.

birthday dinner

Happy birthday, Gregory Martin Finchley Lestrade. I love you, and I'm so lucky to have met you.

Even if you did think I was a serial killer at the time.

the four horsemen ride to victory

It was close, but the four horsemen of the apocalypse are apparently going to win the NSY vs City rugby match, according to you lot. I hope you all realise you'll be next. I mean, I don't think they're going to stop at one match. At the very least they'll go for the Six Nations Championship, and then it'll all be rains of toads, plagues of locusts, and general doom.

We went to visit Eton today. Because of the reschedule, we were the only ones being shown around, not that there weren't enough of us to fully occupy our poor tour guides, especially when Sherlock started asking about the quantity and quality of their dead things in jars vs Harrow's dead things in jars. The consensus was that their dead things in jars were of roughly equal scientific interest, but Sherlock's still declared his intention to go to Eton because he's "not going to Mycroft's stupid school."

summer

Yesterday was the first official day of the summer holidays. Weekends don't count, of course. Already I understand why my mother was so relieved when Harry and I went back to school. It's not that I don't like having them around, but a forty year old trying to keep up with a five year old is just an unfair contest. I thought I had things structured pretty well, but clearly I was wrong.

I resorted to letting them play dog bowling indoors.

sports day pt 2

Right, I believe with left off with L publicly groping me, I mean patting my bum. The groping came later.

He was extremely popular with the mums - all of them, not just Y. I don't think he noticed, which was really quite sweet. That was no doubt partly due to the focus with which he was pushing his own agenda...

A: John tells us you're a police inspector. Tell the truth, is that how you two met? Were you arresting him?*
L: Oh, that's a long, long story.
B: We've got time!
L: Nah, really, I think I have to go get tied to Danger** here. But I'll tell you all about it later. You'll be there when we dig the frog pond, right?

They all agreed they would. We'll see who actually shows up.

sports day pt 1

Today was sports day at Sherlock's school, and a good time was had by all, despite the rain. The kids were there from the usual time in the morning, though Sherlock says they didn't manage much in the way of lessons. More running around excitedly and hindering the older children who were helping the teachers set up, I suspect.

Mycroft and I got there about ten minutes late. In those ten minutes Sherlock had consumed, by stealth and cunning, a quantity of cake that Mrs T found so alarming that the first words out of her mouth when she saw me were, "He mustn't have any more!" A variety of things Sherlock potentially shouldn't have any more of flashed through my mind, so I was actually quite relieved when she explained.

we're just going out; we may be some time

We're going to Scotland, in fact. I got an email with an itinerary and B&B info from herself before I even asked about Mycroft's sky-watching expedition. Mycroft's happy and packing up his telescope. Sherlock's happy because he doesn't have to go back to school yet. (Sometimes I do wonder about making him go to school. He loves learning, and I worry a bit that school's going to knock that love out of him. I know they're slowing him down. But he's got to learn to actually speak to children his own age at some point, yes?) Mrs Hudson has declined. I think she'll be happy to be on her own for a while. Lestrade has work, obviously. [Ask him anyway.] (Relationship advice now, Mycroft? Really?) [He calms you and Sherlock down.] (...I'm just going to move on.)

The end times are upon us:

Thousands of dead fish washed up last week on a 20 mile stretch along the Arkansas River between Ozark and Clarksville. On New Year's Eve thousands of red-winged blackbirds tumbled from the sky in Beebe, Arkansas. [source]

My grandmother would've loved this. She'd say it'd be rains of toads next and "all those bastards would get what's coming to them." Very keen on bastards getting what was coming to them, my Gran. I think by "bastards" she generally meant the Inland Revenue. And occasionally the U.S. government. Oh, and very often the local butcher. She said he frenched his ribs wrong. I'm not entirely sure what that means, but it sounds pretty bad.

The town we're heading to isn't far from her old house. Maybe we'll drive by and have a look. Got to pack now and wake up Sherlock. He's sleeping with my copy of Gray's Anatomy. That boy needs a teddy bear. Do they make a Teddy Ruxpin that reads medical texts and perhaps astrophysics?