#First Saturday in December

[myokk]

“Class, today we’re going to repot the baby mandrakes because they’re getting a bit too big for their current homes! Aren’t they cute?”

[kojiarakiartworks]

December 2003 PDX Portland Oregon U.S.A. 

■Skidmore Fountain : Historic 19th-century fountain & art work

© KOJI ARAKI Art Works

Daily life and every small thing is the gate to the universe ：）

[vero-niche]

demand avoidance triggered, 5 dead 300 injured

[the-kipsabian]

happy anniversary 📦🖤

[floridaboiler]

[roaringroa]

they should make a life where you don't have appointments, work, school and scheduled events every single day for months on end

[non-un-topo]

Daily November crying sessions start today

[pear1ridge]

the states dont have crate day how am i supposed to explain what kind of guy wiremu is when u dont understand what it means to be a Crate Day Guy

[seveneyesoup]

achievement unlocked: onto better things

[mrslittletall]

I want to be creative so bad, but the thought of having to go to the hospital again and spent so much time not being able to do what I want in my free time and the fact that I got so many weekends stolen from me which I normally needed to recharge my creative energy, is making it really hard to get motivated, especially when you know you barely get comments anyway and nobody gives you the feeling they actually read your stuff even though you know you have lurkers. So excuse me, writing will keep being slow and art will keep being on complete hiatus until I can find a day where I find the will to create again.

[dewitty1]

Saturday Six (Stuff)

There's white bullshite (aka snow) falling, and we hates it.(¬д¬。)

My cat lady customer was very sweet, and paid full price for a mix up that happened years ago, but took her forever to get back to me about getting it done, so eff yeah! o((*^▽^*))o

Mr Boots kitty is having a hard time with the new pine pellet cat box, so we have to compromise and hide it in the old covered box, and see how that works. (^・ω・^ )

Idk if I'm happy or sad that I'm not going to be decorate for Xmas.（’-’*)

My Dude (@super-ultra-mega-kami-guru-blog) and I have concluded that we can be bumbling idiots. Lol... Like we're both smart, but damn are we forgetful and, just plain dumb sometimes. It's like we're related or something lol. ＼(^▽^＠)ノ

It's seasonal depression time, which means I'm back on watching comfort shows/movies, and barely any new stuff. But I have a ton on my list. Ugh.ヾ(*´ー`)ノ

[stardust948]

.

[kojiarakiartworks]

December 2003 PDX Portland Oregon U.S.A. 

© KOJI ARAKI Art Works

Daily life and every small thing is the gate to the universe ：）

[july-19th-club]

the last book grandma ever read was agatha christie's "murder on the orient express," which was also the first book my mother remembers getting from her as a gift and not a hand-me-down from her siblings.

one of her favorite 'isms' was 'all things in moderation,' but she also had a plaque in the kitchen when my aunts were growing up that read "you have to kiss a lot of horny toads before you find a prince" and another tchotchke that featured a cherub swinging on a length of twine that said "when you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and HANG ON." like every nonna on earth before her, she ushered us to dinner with a "mangia" - which was also what it said on her favorite apron.

the last picture taken of her was her first picture with her great-granddaughter ellie, who's two months old and named after her. it was the first and only time they met.

[sidras-tak]

Accessibility takes too goddamn fucking long.

My brother was paralyzed in October 2023. We got him home from the hospital (in Texas, when we live in Iowa) in a clunky old hospital chair. He hated it. He was scared and angry and in pain and his life had just changed forever and he couldn’t do anything for himself in that wheelchair. His first goal (aside from learning how to transfer) was to get a wheelchair. My family was lucky enough to afford one so we thought it would be easy enough. Nope.

We couldn’t buy him a wheelchair. He needed a prescription. For a wheelchair. A doctor had to examine him and declare him in need of a wheelchair. It wasn’t good enough that he had scans and tests showing tumors cutting off his spinal cord. He needed his primary care doctor to examine him during a physical and write a prescription. He was making 2-4 transfers a day, tops. He had no energy to get to a doctor. Home health was in and out every day. He had no time to get to a doctor. He didn’t get a prescription for almost a month. Then it had to go through insurance.

We asked if we could skip insurance and just buy a wheelchair for him. Nope. They wouldn’t sell us one, not even at full sticker price. It needed to be approved by Medicare. We ordered a wheelchair, a nice one, a good shade of green, sporty, small. It would let him move around the house. He would be able to cook, to reach drawers and get stuff from the fridge and brush his teeth and put his contacts in at a sink. We were told it would take awhile, maybe two months. Silently we all hoped he would be around to see two more months.

He went on hospice care on a Saturday in March. On Monday, I was calling his friends to come see him before he died. I got a call on his phone. It was the wheelchair company. They were about to order his wheelchair, she said, but there was an issue with insurance— had he stopped being covered by Medicare? Well, yes. When he started hospice care, he got kicked off Medicare. The very nice woman I talked to told me to call her if he resumed Medicare coverage so she could order his wheelchair. He died less than 12 hours later.

We ordered that chair for him in early December. Medicare didn’t approve the order until March. He was dead before they got around to it. He wanted that fucking wheelchair so badly. The only reason he had any semblance of independence and any quality of life for the last five months of his life was because the wheelchair company lent him an old beater chair, a very used model of the chair he ordered. If I could go back and change one thing about his end-of-life, I would get him his dream wheelchair. He told me again and again he couldn’t wait to get it, so that he could feel like a person again. He made the best of what he had with that old beater chair, but it still makes me mad to this day. He was paralyzed. He needed a chair that afforded him dignity. We had the money for it. And yet, we were left waiting for five months, for a chair that wouldn’t even get ordered until the day he died.

[floridaboiler]