Some of you may be familiar with my horror short, “East of the Midnight Sun, West of the Full Moon”, which is told from the point of view of a young Alaskan woman named Senka. Senka’s grandmother came to America when her family fled Europe to escape the Holocaust and this legacy both haunts and drives Senka as she sees history begin to repeat itself. While writing this story, I went down a research rabbithole into everything from average winter temperatures in Barrow, Alaska to how to kill vampires in various cultures’ mythologies to the history of antiziganism. Oh, the eyebrow raises my search history and open tabs would get. Continue reading
In September 2008, I was a seemingly normal, healthy college student. I was active, I had friends, I’d done well in all my classes, and I was just starting my sophomore year. Then, one day, I was walking home from the dining hall and collapsed. In October 2008, I was unable to get to class because I couldn’t stand up without collapsing. The next few years I fought to stay in college (against medical advice) and to find a diagnosis for why I kept collapsing, having seizures, and experiencing tachycardia along with numerous other symptoms. Continue reading
A dancer with POTS by the name of Rebecca Webb choreographed the following dance about her grieving process when POTS sidelined her from dancing. It’s a beautiful performance regardless, but this video really captures a lot of the feelings involved in coming to terms with a chronic illness like POTS, or another another similarly life-changing event. Whether you have a chronic illness, know someone with one, or just like watching good dancers, I highly recommend giving it a watch. Continue reading
I decided to try my hands at soda bread this week, since I didn’t know what else to do for St. Patrick’s Day, except my yearly rant about all the things we get wrong about St. Patrick’s Day, how St. Patrick wasn’t even Irish, how nobody in America seems to know the Republic of Ireland from Northern Ireland or even Ireland from Scotland, and how St. Brigid was more important for most of Irish history anyway. I vote we all get together on St. Brigid’s Feast Day and eat butter. Lots of butter. So much butter.
But I’m really tired of harping on that every year. So, instead, I put on my Irish/Irish American folk music Pandora station and press-ganged my boyfriend into helping me make soda bread. Continue reading
Over the holidays I obtained a crockpot. Remember that awesome feeling when you were a kid and you got that awesome thing that made everything aweseome forever? I am not afraid to admit that’s how I feel about this crockpot. As I said in the last Stone Soup, I like making soup because it is a healthy way to get salt and veggies and I can hoard it like a dragon playing disability roulette and not worrry about making food on days when standing is hard. However, when making soup on the stovetop, I usually end up on the kitchen floor approximately 1-3 times. The crockpot allows me to throw everything in (just when I would normally have to take a break anyway) and not deal with food again for several hours. Continue reading