“My beer hand is cold!”

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With daylight savings going, it’s finally dark out past 5 pm. Katie and I took advantage of this, stashing a few beers in our packs, extra clothes, and sturdy winter hiking boots. Katie brought Yak-Traks, which are really an essential Montana tool, but I just trusted that my heavy, large hardy boots (they’re good to -20F with the right liners, and are 15 years old) would do the job (they did).

We got to the top of Mount Helena on the 1906 trail within an hour! In some places, the snow had drifted, and with the warming temperatures it had become heavy, slippery, and easy to sink deep into. We kept on trekking and even saw a nutter trial running in shorts! (This is actually not that abnormal but I’ve become more and more cold-sensitive and now that just seems insane to me.)

The top of Mount Helena is always windy, but it was amazing to be out and active. Katie and I kept marveling at the feeling of fresh air, of moving, of hearing the wind blow through the trees and seeing the sun glint off the snow. Sometimes winters here can feel never-ending, and cabin fever sets in, even if your car starts and you can get around town fairly easily.

I can’t wait to hike some more- it really does feel like the earliest of early signs of spring, just the fact that it’s finally above freezing some days brings me hope!

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The Food in Brazil Post

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Holding a heavy, ripe avocado in my hand, I marveled at the smooth skin. Before I arrived, Logan had told me about the heft and the sweetness of avocados here, much different than the Mexican ones I found in my American grocery store. These were bright green, and had fallen from the avocado tree in Alayr’s backyard that day. We cut one up and used it in a salad for lunch. Inside, dozens of guava fruits sat in a woven basket. Three pots of food (one rice, one beans, one pumpkin) sat on the stove, keeping warm and filling the small kitchen with a rich smell.

Almost every day that Logan and I were in his hometown, we ate lunch at his grandparent’s home with his family. Without fail, there was rice and beans. Sometimes there was carne seca, a re-hydrated meat that you eat with beans and rice, and bright yellow chunks of mandioca (cassava) sat ready to be squashed with your fork and salted and mixed with salad or whatever you wanted on your plate. The bright spice of fresh watercress surprised me constantly, as it just looked like spinach leaves, and the arugula was more aggressively flavored there as well. I tended to mix them carefully with lettuce because my taste buds were overwhelmed.

The general rhythm of Brazil to me felt like things were either done slowly, evenly, and in unchanging ways, or done quickly and haphazardly. There seemed to be no middle ground. Rice is cooked slowly, kept warm on the stove, and beans are left to soak overnight and then cooked the next day. Avocados are cut open, the mandioca boiled, the jar of salt laid out, the plates brought out at the same time each day. Everybody serves themselves, and after lunch strong black coffee is brewed and served in tiny cups. Sometimes dessert follows, with super-sweet little flans or a small wheel of cheese from Minas Gerais would appear, to be paired with goiabada (guava paste). This was our daily ritual. A small television in the back corner would blare out soccer games and the news. At various times the news focused on different disasters, from the Brumadinho dam collapse to the deadly fire at the Flamenco FC club that killed several of their youth team members. The news, no matter where you are, has the same depressing information.

If you go to Brazil, please try to eat with a family or make some Brazilian friends to eat with. There is no shortage of amazing things to try, and if you do your trip right you will be eating almost constantly, but finding friends or a family to eat with will guarantee that you’re taken care of. I cannot express how amazing it was to be so well fed and welcomed by Logan’s family, and how taking part in so many meals made me feel very lucky.

A typical breakfast there is often toast, coffee, and maybe some yogurt or cheese. Pão de quiejo (cheese bread made with tapioca flour) is also a frequent breakfast companion, and if you feel like sparking some serious heartburn, go for The Trifecta: Pão de queijo, fresh orange juice (suco de laranja), and strong black coffee. It’s absolutely delicious and you might feel like dying later but there’s nothing like it. See the photo below:

You will find pão de quiejo almost anywhere: in cafes, in gas stations alongside the road, in restaurants, etc. and I highly recommend eating a lot of it. The chewy middle and crunchy outside are delicious, and the cheesy flavor is addicting.

If you’re traveling or in a city, one of the most common types of eateries you will encounter will be a kilo restaurant, or a kilo buffet. They’re basically large cafeterias, where you make your own plate and pay by the kilo. They vary in cost and quality, but I love them because you can eat as much or as little, as healthily or as unhealthily as you want. They’ve usually got a salad bar, a couple kinds of pasta, different cuts of meat, rice and beans, and farofa. You’ll see everybody at a kilo to, from ladies stopping in from shopping to businessmen to construction workers. My favorite thing about the kilos is that they ALWAYS have sliced tomatoes, which I usually would bulk up on and just eat on their own. Kilos are also very common inside large rest-stops, which I love because when you’ve been on the road for hours on the slow, toll-clogged roads outside of São Paulo it’s nice to stop, stretch your legs, and eat a healthy meal.

I don’t really have any order or reason to the foods that are discussed here but I just remembered how good all the juices (sucos) are in Brazil. There are a ton of different mixes, and most places have a “Sucos” section in their menu of just juices.

My favorite is “abacaxi and hortelã” which is pineapple and mint. Fresh squeezed orange juice is also delicious. Lots of places feature juices called “detox” which are usually a combination of ginger, mint, and a couple of juices, and is actually delightful, not some cleansing bullshit meant to taste bad.

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Seafood in Brazil is delicious. Shrimp (camarrão) and fish (peixe) and crab (carangeuijo) are abundant. Fresh fried fish, baked shrimp, shrimp pastel, etc.- it’s all there.

Fair warning: Sushi is becoming more common in Brazil but they tend to use farmed salmon and import tuna from very, very far away, and we found that the sushi rice is often way too dense and squishy. If you have to have your sushi, it might be best to wait until you’re in a major city. There are some high-end restaurants that are using local Brazilian fish and seafood in their sushi which means you’re getting fresh ingredients. There is also a decent, well-established Japanese population in São Paulo as well as other large cities and Japanese food in general is plentiful!

Fun random Japanese food fact: Ramen is called “Lamen” in Brazil! It’s easy to find in the cities, and although we didn’t get the chance to have any, I’ve heard it’s delicious.

If you’re invited to a friend’s home for a meal, the odds are you’ll eat outside. One of the most common sorts of get-togethers is a meat and beer dinner. A couple people will be responsible for picking up crates of bottled beer, cuts of meat, and some bread/butter/etc.

Most Brazilian homes have outside grills and barbecues, and you’ll sit around tables chatting, drinking beer, and eating lots of little bits of beef (there WILL BE at least one *good* friend who will refill everybody’s little glasses when they’re not looking, and if you don’t get very drunk at a meat and beer party then you’ve got bad friends).

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A meal in Peiropolis, Minas Gerais, at one of the many kilos we ate at. Little pickles, fries, pasta, rice and beans, etc.- it was so good!

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Another typical Brazilian breakfast, this one at a little paderia, with french loaves quickly pressed on a griddle with butter, coffee, and pao de quiejo.

Fresh coconuts! These are super common, especially on the beaches, and some people love using their straws to scrape out the flesh from the inside (not me!)

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Ripe guava fruits from Logan’s grandpa’s garden. They smelled so good! I think they were made into goiabada later.

Also, I have to talk about pastel. PASTEL. Fried goodness with palm hearts (palmitos), cheese (queijo), shrimp, whatever. A good pastel place will fry them to order. They’re served piping hot and with lots of napkins to soak up the grease. Here we had them at the counter at a little shop in Uberaba marketplace. Apparently drinking a full-sugar Coca Cola is a thing with pastel (I didn’t mind!).

Pastel, coxinha (shredded chicken with cheese inside a breaded fried exterior), fried pork belly, etc.- Brazilians love fried foods that are perfect with cold beer. I heartily encourage y’all to dig in and order some of everything when you’re at a bar. Also, remember that nobody gives a fuck about how your body looks. You’ll sweat so much there it won’t matter anyway.

Acai is a super common treat everywhere, and acai shops are all over. You layer the acai with a bunch of things, like condensed milk, Nutella, granola, honey, powdered milk, various fruits, etc.

My favorite was acai with powdered milk and strawberries, because I know you all care about my personal favorites.

Other foods to eat PLENTY of: 33422711138_328c701bd4_c

Lebanese and Palestinian food! When Logan and I were in Portland we went to a Lebanese restaurant and Logan told the proprieter he was from Brazil. The dude responded “Brazil is like a second Lebanon!” and that is very true. Lebanese food and culture is well-established in Brazil, and good hummus, kibe, baba ganoush, etc. are everywhere. If you’re feeling adventurous there’s a Palestinian restaurant called Al-Janiah in São Paulo that serves the most incredible kibe and is run by a Palestinian refugee. Its become a gathering place of sorts for immigrants, intellectuals, fringe folks who want to have good beer and eat fantastic food, and hear five or six languages in one spot. There’s also frequently live music. If that’s not your vibe, Brasserie Vittoria is AH-MAZING, and they’ve been around for over 70 years. Plus, they serve Cerpa beer which…I will talk about in my liquors post.

As you read this, remember that I spent six weeks in Brazil, and I mostly ate southern Brazilian food, and remember that Brazil is crazy-diverse country and that the food histories there are as complex and differing. I basically barely scratched the surface! 

I will add to this or make another post when I get my 35mm developed and scanned! I took so many photos of meals with film that I do want to share! But, for now, that’s all folks!

Strange Women Go Hot Springing

I took the day off work, crossing my fingers that snow wouldn’t ruin the day. Chelsea was insistent, saying that regardless, we’d be going. The night before, we were marveling at just how good Blackfoot Single Malt IPA beer is (while drinking it) and getting excited. The weather looked clear, shockingly, and I was excited.

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We piled into Chelsea’s car and headed West. I told Logan about our plans, and from deep in South America came the reply, “you strange women have a blast”. We really were a rather strange, rag-tag group, the three of us, thrown together through proximity but choosing to also care about one another, in that strange way that fate and chance have.

The drive was spectacular. Passing burned out woods, tall evergreens, beautiful cottonwoods guarding little meandering creeks, and isolated homes and winding roads that went off to unknown places, Chelsea told us about the place. We got there, with only one truck with a camper on it in the parking lot. Success! Hot springs get notoriously overcrowded and we were thrilled to have some decent odds of having a good time.

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Upon reaching the hot spring after a half mile or so of hiking, we encountered four souls who had been sleeping in the camper. One was unfortunately very naked, and another had brought a waterproof speaker and was playing dubstep. Luckily, they shut the speaker off within about five minutes, because I was going to either punt it like a football or ask them to turn it off, whichever would have offered a quicker solution.

(Pro tip: do NOT be the person who brings a fucking speaker to the hot spring, you are a rude jerk if you do so. Enjoy the fucking tranquility of nature goddammit!)  

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Anyway…

It was beautiful. It was tranquil. Our current hot spring partners seemed a bit…not sober, not stoned, but off. A bit meth-y, perhaps, which is actually not unlikely in rural Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, or lots of other places. Luckily, they left fairly quickly, and we had the hot springs to ourselves for a good while before a dozen or so people came in a big group, complete with a tiny dog.

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That time in the hot spring was amazing. We quietly chatted, took pictures, breathed in the steam, and reveled in the marvelousness of the misty, quiet woods. I felt quietly settled, content in a way I hadn’t in some time. After dropping Colette off Chelsea and I went to Kettlehouse and chatted more, sipping a delicious New England style IPA. It was a damn fine day, with damn fine souls. I couldn’t ask for a better one.

Up the Rattlesnake (Montana is ugly).

Here’s the thing:

Montana is really, really, ridiculously good looking. Example A:

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It’s hard to take bad photographs here. It’s hard to not feel the urge to have a camera on you 24/7 (I usually have more than one to be honest). The sunsets, the trees, the mountains in the Western part of the state- it’s all very ‘Gram worthy (and in fact, I have noticed a lot more “influencers” who are based out of Montana- but that’s a story for another day).

It had snowed pretty consistently Sunday morning so Brenna and I postponed a longer hike and chose to head up the Rattlesnake. This is an area of Missoula that is busy with recreationists year-round, and we were passed by bikers (in the snow, mind you) and soon, I am sure ski tracks will be rife up there as well. Most Montanans (me excluded) have adapted to the reality of winters that last a minimum of six months, and have outdoor hobbies. Again, not me.

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Anyway, we went on a short-ish jaunt in the snow, and it was beautiful. We chatted, looked for animals, admired the quiet of the landscape, and soaked in this manageable amount of snow and cold.

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Here’s Montana in all her ugly, #nofilter. You’re welcome.

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Found film: Iceland, May 2015

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Hiking in Iceland was gleefully devoid of warning signs. We stayed on the trail, walking through apocalyptic-feeling sulfur clouds, bathing suits and towels and water packed on our backs. There were one or two signs that let us know to be careful, but a few miles in the trail was devoid of directions.

I like that. I liked the idea that the Icelandic government, the people, whoever, just didn’t bother to post warning signs everywhere, unlike the sign-strewn Yellowstone National Park, which at some points shows children being boiled and burned alive encountering geysers, just in case the wooden boardwalks and the bubbling mud pots weren’t enough of an encouragement to stay on the path. I secretly, morbidly loved the idea that people who were dumb, who didn’t pay attention, could end up in trouble out here, in this barren, strange land with billowing steam clouds, plushy moss, hot ground, snow patches, and rushing creeks coming from sandy, rocky, steep hills. Get your shit together people, just pay attention. 43856350020_1ac2615a49_c43856347250_d43bb8e140_c31802027998_89683ba317_c31802030858_5881a88466_c

We hiked to the hot springs, which were full of loud, naked German men. We immediately decided to keep hiking and wait them out, not wanting spring-mates in the form of slightly intoxicated, boisterous boys who were without a shred of clothing and likely decorum. Nein, danke. As we hiked, it got lonelier, and we encountered fewer and fewer people.

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The land was part Yellowstone, part meadow, part alien. It was bare, with moss, lichen, colorful soil, and lots of pocked, bare volcanic rock. Emily and I were amazed, not even close to tired, even after we’d been hiking for hours. We eventually turned back, and found the river mostly to ourselves, enough that we put down our packs and slipped in. It wasn’t hot; it was warm enough that the day we went it was comfortable, but on a colder day I wouldn’t want to swim! Eventually more and more people packed up and left, and we took off our bathing suits and, like the prudish Americans we were, enjoyed the privacy. I felt like a nymph from a painting in the water, silly and un-bothered by anything.

It really was a joy to re-discover some photos of one of the best days I’ve had on this earth, with one of my favorite humans, in a place neither of us knew and marveled at.

Preparing to leave, part two (visual).

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My time here summed up in visual form.

Photography is a tool, and even the most casual of photographers use this tool in decisive ways. I have used mine to capture the fleeting moments that will last, longer than my anxious thoughts or potentially sad feelings about this place, because if you put me in a corner and asked me, truly, if I was happy here, I would have to tell you that there were moments that were fucking blissful.

Seeing the sunset on our street. The first night we spent in our home. Meeting Logan’s friends from Brazil, bridges between our two worlds that I hadn’t known before. Late nights at the VFW watching a good live show with Nick, Logan, and Ev, feeling like the universe sent good people to be around. Chelsea’s all-too-brief visits that were filled with photos and chats that my soul needed. Quiet mornings at Bernice’s and Butterfly Herbs, nestled at tables and booths with a library book and a note pad. Kettlehouse afternoons, with delicious beer and salty peanuts. Drives out to the Lolo National Forest for fishing, exploring, and renewal. Walking to work in the snow, having the early morning feel like it was all for me as I made the first human footprints on my walk . Watching spring be tenacious and persistent and then take over Missoula with a ferocity I reveled in, photographing blooms and green, chlorophyll-devouring things as eagerly as they emerged from their deep winter slumber.

 

Upstate but feeling low

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Lately I’ve been realizing how in statis I’ve been. Like an animal keeping its metabolism slow so that it can conserve calories. It’s tiring in it’s own way.

I wrote a bit about this on Instagram and here’s part of it.

“I feel untethered, but it’s hard to tether yourself to anything when you’re in a state of preparing, however slowly, to leave. I want to be making big loud friendships with complicated amazing people, and I want to be social and look outside my box, but it’s hard not to feel duplicitous building relationships that likely won’t last or gain the beautiful layers of depth that many do only after lots of time. I guess moving every two years like clockwork is catching up to me a bit.”

Tonight after expressing these feelings, I came home and made a risotto with chanterelle mushrooms, had a glass of wine, and currently have a face mask on. Laundry is in the dryer, dishes are done, work is over, and life is moving along in the clunky but regular way it is right now. I get to look back on beautiful photos like the ones above that show quiet, sunny days in Upstate New York of spiderwebs, marble topped dressers a hundred years old, and oil-based skincare that I talked about in my previous post.

A little routine.

There is already snow in large parts of Montana and it’s awful. I am trying to get ready for the cold, the dry air, the static-y hair and all the things that go along with winter. In the meantime, the brief Montana autumn is in full swing.

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This summer has been about things that feel luxurious, work well, and are affordable. As one of those lucky wenches who only gets acne around the end of my cycle, I really only needed to find products that hydrated and brightened my skin, and being on a budget, I searched for a while before I decided on some things, and after several months these four things have made their way and stayed in my routine.

I don’t have the money to experiment a whole lot, mostly just with masks, and these are pretty well-known, respected products, and they did what they were supposed to. My personal favorite is the Mizon ampoule, which feels luxurious, has no smell, and comes in a lovely little glass bottle that feels much fancier than the price tag. This has lasted me three months and I need to buy another! The Ordinary products are all the rage and some of them work and others don’t. These two products feel good and definitely have brightened my skin, and they’re going to last me a long time- I apply them and switch them out about every other night before my final moisturizer and I’ve barely made a dent and it’s been almost three months since I’ve had them. Last but not least is the notorious Pixi Glow Tonic which does exactly what it’s known for. It gives my skin the perfect canvas to apply serums, ampoules, etc. and it makes my skin happy.

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I feel a bit pretentious talking about my skin but as somebody on a budget, it feels neat to find things that have done what I’ve wanted and haven’t disappeared too quickly despite regular use. I love that they’re mostly in glass and it feels really lovely to be a little luxurious before bed and when I wake up and treat my skin right. Do you have any routines, products, or habits that make you feel a bit elevated?

I’m going to Brazil in a few months and I’m trying to figure out what to bring there, where the humidity and unrelenting heat will be very different for my skin than the dry, cold air that has settled in Montana. We shall see.

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Missoula in early autumn is something else.

The park begins to get tinged in yellow and the lightest shades of orange. The students are back and the bars become busy and crowded. But mornings remain quiet, private, and beautiful. Sometimes I get up even earlier than normal so I can go have a cup of coffee and watch the sun touch the world.

6300 miles/10,100 kilometers

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Taking Logan to the airport to say goodbye for six months was surreal. The drive from Missoula to Spokane is unbelievably beautiful, with cloud-covered mountain passes and little mining towns nestled by the highway, and we both discussed everything but his impending flight to go thousands and thousands of miles away. After we said goodbye at the gate, I drove home in a daze. I knew I couldn’t be emotional because a 3 hour drive on the highway is not the place to be a compromised person, and I compartmentalized everything and drove home without really remembering it. I came home and slept like a corpse, absolutely exhausted and horribly sad and hollow feeling. Our house echoed and felt devoid of the soul it had when we moved in.

It’s been a month now and life hasn’t become “normal” again. I want to sleep a lot still. I keep my space neat, much neater than it was when we lived together, and joined a gym. Cooking hasn’t happened- lots of raw veggies, sandwiches, yogurt and cold dishes. It’s hilarious how sad my diet has become since his departure. I would always know Logan was cooking when I’d smell garlic, basil, cilantro, olive oil in the pan, and other familiar smells. The sounds of the house have changed and so have the smells. No more of his cologne or our clothes hung together in the closet, even if only for a little while. Much of my grad school habits have returned: long walks alone, people watching,  having a quiet drink alone, writing in my diary, devouring books, finding quiet spaces, and letting my mind unravel and go all sorts of places. It is peaceful, familiar, and a tiny bit sad, but not entirely empty of happiness.

These were from one of our last walks in the park here in town, taken with my ancient SLR camera, which we didn’t position correctly, to my odd delight.

Sensitive skin + eczema: Treatment, support, and questions.

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“You been in some fights lately?” a stranger joked as they saw my hands one summer. They were raw, cracked, bleeding, and red. It was summer, too hot for long sleeves, and I weakly joked that yes, I had been brawling.

This was not entirely false- my body and I were indeed at odds with one another. Eczema, which had affected me as a child, went away until I became a stressed-out college student. It mostly stayed on my arms, though, and I accepted its presence as a bother, nothing more.

However, around 2015, my hands were a mess and I struggled with embarrassment and confusion. This was a new, awful form of eczema, replete with tiny clusters of blisters, insanely itchy skin, cracked and bleeding parts, and overall, extreme physical discomfort. I couldn’t do dishes, handle any acidic foods, or do much that would exacerbate my skin.  I found out that I had gotten one lovely variety of eczema that affects solely hands and feet- JOY.

It’s 2018, and I have, for the most part, found peace and (mostly) respite from my eczema. It’s been on my face, made me nervous for dates, kept me sleepless from itching, offered me up to public humiliation, and made me feel ugly and undesirable. I made this post to show affordable products that help me immensely, answer some basic questions, and offer some links I’ve found both helpful and supportive.

The low down: 

Eczema is basically your body’s inability to produce it’s own protective layer over your skin. This results in vulnerable, rashy, often raw skin. Sometimes it’s mild and just a small patch of dry, red skin and sometimes it can take over your body- everybody is different. It affects 30 million Americans, and there are multiple kinds. I have atopic dermatitis and dyshidrotic eczema.

Eczema is a mysterious bastard, and people don’t know exactly why we get it. It’s been theorized it’s an immune reaction or an allergic reaction, but why and how we get it is unsure. People in polluted areas and cities get it more, and people who have other immune issues like asthma also have eczema, and it could also be genetic! So basically…it could be anything, everything, or nothing at all. Trust me, I know this isn’t helpful.

First and foremost if you suspect you might have eczema go to a dermatologist. A good one! They might take photos of your eczema to track any changes, and they can help you find medicine that will work with your lifestyle and the severity of your eczema. If your derm isn’t taking you seriously, tries to put you on steroid creams or steroids over and over again, find somebody who makes you feel heard.

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Products/things I use and love that help: 

-Vitamin D, Vitamin C, fish oil, and Vitamin E supplements. There is some evidence that taking vitamins that help build your skin’s resilience can help with eczema. Your skin is always trying to heal and repair itself and these vitamins may help your body do that. I figure it can’t hurt.

-AQUAPHOR!!! Aquaphor is my favorite thing. Lotion can hurt raw skin, and one thing that eczema needs is protection. I apply Aquaphor to all my patches- on my face, my hands, my arms, where ever. I may apply bandages over the Aquaphor so it can work better. It isn’t a lotion- it’s a cheap but amazing ointment that you can find at any drugstore for around $5. (It also makes an amazing lip balm!) It’s also super safe around your eyes if you’ve got anything there! This is my number one thing in my life, and I don’t know what I would do without it.

-BandAids for protecting my hands. Cheap, easy, and effective. They can help any especially raw parts heal. I do not use antibiotic creams at all, and only use Aquaphor  to protect my skin.

-ProTopic prescription ointment. This is a non-steroid cream that I use only in extreme cases because it burns a lot. I do not use steroid cream because long term use of steroid creams can make your skin thin, sometimes permanently. Since I have had eczema for years and it hasn’t gone away, I got my derm to prescribe me this. There is also a children’s version that has less of the working ingredients to be sensitive to their bodies.

-Aveeno lotion. Aveeno, I find, makes great sensitive-skin lotions. I also adore their baby lotions and bath products, because the ingredients are so gentle. I use this on my hands as soon as I wake up and before I go to bed, and keep a little tube in my work desk and in my car.

-Scent-free and dye-free laundry detergent. If you have ultra-sensitive skin, your sheets and bedding and pillow cases can also aggravate whatever is going on. Using a sensitive-skin friendly laundry detergent is huge! I use some from my natural food bulk store, but Arm & Hammer also makes a detergent I really like.

Aveeno Baby oatmeal bath packets. These are affordable and amazing. Oatmeal helps calm the itch and a warm (not hot!) bath is amazing for relaxing. Oatmeal baths helped me as a child, too, when I couldn’t sleep.

-Lukewarm/cool showers.  Hot water strips your skin of protection and will exacerbate your eczema a lot! If you can’t help but take hot showers, make them short. Get out quickly.

-Gloves for doing dishes and yardwork. These will help protect your hands, which can be areas prone to eczema and irritation. They have saved me, as hot water doing dishes a lot made my hands not only painful but also made my eczema never seem to go away.

As you can see, I use mostly affordable products that after years of experimentation work for me. Everybody is different. It can take time, so be patient and gentle with yourself.

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What about diet? 

There are some theories that eczema, and some other immune issues, may be caused by gut bacteria abscence or imbalance. I don’t know if I buy these 100% (you can find out more online) but I did find that when I consistently ate probiotic foods, avoided sugar, and ate healthier, my eczema was more manageable. That being said, is that real? Or was it placebo effect? I can’t say. I’m not a doctor or a nutritionist, but it did help.

What about (insert other treatment here-wet wrapping, pine tar, bleach baths, etc.) 

I don’t know about anything else, but there is a super helpful sub-Reddit for eczema sufferers where you can ask questions, get feedback, and swap stories. It has not only been an immense source of support, but I’ve also answered lots of questions with my own experiences. If you’re new to everything, also look for answers here at the National Eczema Association. The Internet is one of the most helpful and supportive places I’ve ever found, and lots of people who may feel shy sharing their stories in person are more than happy to help you figure out things like how to help your children if they’ve got eczema, what if your girlfriend/boyfriend/person has eczema, how different meds have helped different people, etc.

What if my girlfriend/boyfriend/child gets diagnosed? 

If you’re asking this question at all that’s a great sign. Do your own research and quietly help your person make changes if they’re an adult. Maybe buy some products on your own as a quiet “I see you” gift- Aquaphor, lotions, oatmeal bath packets, sensitive-skin friendly laundry detergent, etc. and check in with your person if they’re seeing doctors. If you’ve got a child, oatmeal baths and doctors visits may become the norm. There are lots of resources for parents online. I know my parents had a tough time, but ProTopic helped me a lot when I was little.

Secondly, eczema can make your person feel very unsexy. Be gentle, kind, and especially loving. Our body is pretty much betraying us and giving us ugly lizard skin, and it sucks. Let us know we’re still cute, okay?

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That’s all I’ve got for now. I’ll probably update this as time goes on, but please don’t hesitate to leave questions or comments. I’ve had eczema for years, and it’s impacted my life, but it’s something that can be managed and accepted and you’re definitely not alone.

Black and white reflections

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Odds and ends of a strange month. I got my Canadian work visa from the kindest border agent and then had the most awful experience coming back to my home country. I stayed out late and saw people I rarely see, found a dead bird behind the auto repair shop on my way to work, ate at a diner outside Spokane in eastern Washington, spent some time by the sea with my mom in Bellingham the night before getting my visa, and photographed flowers sprouting everywhere here in Missoula. It’s 90 degrees outside and I miss those weird spring days where you still might see snow on the mountains and have frost on some bits of the yard.

Stony Creek Cabin

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Late spring at a Forest Service cabin nestled in the Beaverhead Deerlodge National Forest. A moose had been bedding in the front lawn of the hundred year old cabin, a creek rushed loudly and busily across the road, farmers drove by in trucks kicking up dust clouds, and we made a fire that we sat by, quietly chatting, for hours.

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3 am and we could see stars and planets and satellites. I felt alive and happy, connected to new friends and old ones by the fire and the woods and the sounds of outside. The cabin was one hundred years old, and as I slept a little resident mouse ran back and forth along a beam near my head.

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In the morning I found moose tracks, wild strawberry plants, shooting star wildflowers, and lots of other evidence of living fauna. We had to drive over a water-logged road because Rock Creek was overflowing with runoff, muddy and fast. We were tired and happy together, breathing clean air.