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Quiet Hands

This makes me cry, because I want to find you, OP, and ask you if I can draw your hands (your voice); I want to find all the greatest textured things for you, things you like, and let you flap to your hearts content. The greatest compliment I have ever received was a quiet, “Youareverysymmetrical” from a boy at my high school who fought his way through the chaos in his mind just to tell me that. I sat down on the steps and cried because I know that must have been so hard for him. I do not cry easily. Please, have loud hands.

Just Stimming...

TW: Ableism, abuse

Explaining my reaction to this:

means I need to explain my history with this:

quiet handsquiet hands1.

When I was a little girl, they held my hands down in tacky glue while I cried.


I’m a lot bigger than them now. Walking down a hall to a meeting, my hand flies out to feel the texture on the wall as I pass by.

“Quiet hands,” I whisper.

My hand falls to my side.


When I was six years old, people who were much bigger than me with loud echoing voices held my hands down in textures that hurt worse than my broken wrist while I cried and begged and pleaded and screamed.


In a classroom of language-impaired kids, the most common phrase is a metaphor.

“Quiet hands!”

A student pushes at a piece of paper, flaps their hands, stacks their fingers against their palm, pokes at…

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Faux-Country Boil and the Moose-mallow


Here in California, we don’t really have any good-and-proper regiinal dishes. At least, not this far inland. So I made up my own version of a low-country boil. The entire thing cost about 12 bucks, and lasted two days (one dinner and one breakfast, for two). I call it a Faux-Country Boil because I didn’t follow any of the recipes, I just sort of threw shit in a pot and hoped it worked (which it DID). I’ll have the recipe up at the end of the post.
And now, the Moose-mallow.


I have the weekly pleasure of working with this little butt. He doesn’t have a proper name, but I call him Moose. Later, Iriarty came up with the idea of calling him Moose-mallow, because just a week ago, he looked like a wiggly marshmallow. Right now, he’s a full four weeks old, pure white, and we’re fairly sure his eyes are slowly turning brown. Side note: I work at a rescue shelter here in NorCal. Also, Moose peed on me today. Fun stuff.
Okay, I hope you enjoyed puppy pics. It’s recipe time.

Woad’s Faux-Country Boil

3/4 lb shrimp, raw and deveined, shells on
2 4-oz lobster tails, halved
1/2 lb beef chunks, pan-fried
1 lb new yellow potatoes, quartered
3 ears corn, sliced into thirds
1 shallot, sliced
Old Bay Seasoning  (or some approximation thereof)

Boil a giant pot of water with sliced shallot and old bay to taste. I use about a handful of my own recipe. Dump in your quartered potatoes and pan fried beef. Boil 10 minutes.
Add the corn and lobster tails, boil 5 minutes.
Last, dump in your shrimp, skin still on, and boil another 4-5 minutes, until the pink shrimps start floating to the top. Strain the liquid off and dump the lot onto a plastic-covered table.
I suggest serving with cocktail sauce, melted butter, salt and pepper, some good bread, and a little bowl of sour cream for the potatoes.