…. . -.– / .–. — .–. / – .-. .- -. … .-.. .- – . / – …. .. … / ..-. — .-. / — — — / … …. . / .. … / – …. . / -… . … – . … – / — — — / .. -. / – …. . / ..- -. .. …- . .-. … .
I have found (I think) most of the songs I printed out before my hard drive died, and am now going to put them in alpha order and scan the ones I don’t have digitally.
Sisyphus is done, and I also turned it into an MP3 and shipped it to mOm. As a song it’s quite fast; as a repurposed, slowed down, dropped more than an octave piece of soundtrack it’s actually very cool.
I need to do a lot more dejunking. I finally freed up the guest room, which was a staging area for clean clothes, and I hung everything, which would help if I didn’t keep stuffing my room with things that don’t belong in the rest of the house but have no appropriate storage. In the end, apart from kitchen and bathroom stuff, I hope to be able to get everything into one room; that’s the desired end state as it’s obvious I won’t be living in this house for the rest of my life although far from obvious when I’ll move.
Tomorrow night it’s Theology Pub! I will be taking a friend to supper and then hanging out afterwards; I wouldn’t miss it as it is at the Heritage Grill and their back room is a treat.
Cpap last night. No writing. My mood is very dark and angry, which is great when you’re writing dark and angry scenes, and not so good when you’re trying to do the sf equivalent of the St. Crispin’s Day speech. I keep losing the thread after a few paras. Cazart.
Keith came by yesterday but I was still feeling very wobbly so I didn’t hang out with him much. I ate the burger he brought me though!
Well, I suppose it’s time to shower and ingest vitamins and painkillers, drink some coffee and suchlike.
Katie is coming over on Friday to do some recording. Blink! She wants to do an album of songs for Alex for when she’s not around. I personally think it will make him cry harder, once he figures out not to believe the lie that she’s there and singing, but what the heck. I’ll try anything that doesn’t involve running. When I was rolling over in bed last night my pelvic joints made so much noise you could probably hear them across the room.
I’ve climbed back on the writing horse, but since it’s edits I can’t really say OH I WROTE THIS MUCH TODAY. It’s going well. I have to figure out how to represent targets though. Manuscript pages edited? Dunno, that seems most likely.
I baked bacon for BLTs and made up ingredients so they are ready to go.
I watched the last Hobbit movie. It was quite well done, although purists will be shuddering from head to foot for the duration. I am not a purist.
I went for a walk in the predawn murk and fetched cream for coffee and milk for tea, to keep that writer’s support of caffeine flowing.
Poor Hannah, the gal who was supposed to help yesterday, was sick. I was sick all the bloody time when I was her age. Now I literally cannot remember the last time I had anything resembling a cold or flu; how much I’m washing my hands might have something to do with that.
So many people, including the visitors from last week, volunteered that it made life much easier; the soup lunch is always quite chaotic, and then there was a business meeting at the end of it that I was just as happy to stay out of. I had Peggy’s turkey soup. It was quite yummy.
I wore my brown snowflake motif pj’s and my steampunk hat, and was complimented. Seriously. By everybody from Jane (who has an identical set in purple, it’s like she’s my time twin or something) to the minister, who cracked up and then told me she admired my sense of style. The only places in the world that make me feel anything approaching the same level of acceptance, in order of closeness, Mike’s place, Planet Bachelor (but only when Janice isn’t there…. ha ha), Tom and Peggy’s, my fOlks’, Conflikt and Polycamp. I am a lucky hound, f’sure.
I told Rob to invite himself to supper sometime. He was happy to hear it.
I’m selling printer ink on Craigslist – buyer is supposed to show up tonight around supper. There’s nothing like buying $75 of ink and having the fucking printer promptly quit. I’m letting it go for cheap just to get it out of the house.
Sue drove me home again, home again, and then off to an audition. I hope I’m like her in 18 years!!
Katie didn’t come to church but she just posted that Alex rolled from his back to his tummy. I wonder if and when he’s going to start crawling.
Margot stared me into throwing a treat to her this morning. I can’t wait for Buster to get fixed, he’s so lively, even with the cone of shame, that it’s quite exhausting for her.
I dejunked my phone this morning. I took out a hundred phone numbers, mostly for the café, which, duh, I no longer need, and 1.2 gigs of crapware. Go me.
I got enough sleep last night! I went to bed at 8 pm and woke up at 5, which is wonderful.
Here are the cinnamon buns I made yesterday.
I haven’t seen Alexander yet. Katie called yesterday and she’ll call me when she’s ready to receive visitors at home.
This infographic on prayer made me alternately very uncomfortable and amused. As an atheist, I can’t separate prayer from ‘wishing so hard that you’re practically grunting so that an imaginary being of its infinite kindness rearranges causality and the laws of physics for your personal benefit’. As a church lady, I have to say I understand the benefit of GROUP prayer, which is a form of prosocial entrainment. Personal prayer, the petitioning kind unencumbered by meditation or humility, is just plain gross.
Somebody on Reddit said that Gilbert Gottfried and Fran Drescher “should have children. The marines could use them to clear public areas.”
Stop motion parkour fight. I laughed out loud watching this.
The pet relationship is very important to humans and now of course we have the science to prove it.
Dealing with bullies changes with the technology. Professors deal with bad reviews.
Am I jealous because the last time I was catcalled I was 36? No, it’s one of the best damned things about getting older.
Gosh, if only dealing with conspiracy nuts was this easy. Cause it really isn’t.
After five years we’ve finally gotten to the Burnaby Farmers market.
The radishes are so yummy and crunchily perfect. We came away with pork chops, potatoes, blueberry pie, radishes, carrots, artisanal chocolate (lemon basil OMnomG), snickerdoodles and egg bread. Brilliant, brilliant sunny day in the lower mainland, full of wonderful things to do.
Iran and Argentina are going at it for the World Cup; there was a hilarious joke on the internet this morning which I repeat here for your amusement; “What’s the difference between England and a tea bag?” “?” “The tea bag stays in the Cup longer.” Seeing has how my grandad played for the Sons of England futbol club in Saskatoon back in the day, I should prob’ly have more respect. But no, I really don’t.
It is a strikingly gorgeous day. I am still feeling the effects of Keith coming over here and helping with the lawn, because a) he just melted me with maternal pride, and b) it really needed to be done and c) I did the weed whipping and my shoulder hurt afterwards but more in a “Ha you used it” not “OMG I’m dying” kinda way.
In this case, Raylan Givens.
I don’t feel very well so I’ll be sticking close to home today. Yesterday I went to physio and walked back with what felt like (and fell onto the ground.. twice..) 30 pounds of groceries. But it was good to have fresh veggies and oddly nothing got broken or smashed.
I have learned my memory is crappy and I’m glad, I tell you. But even people with good memories make stuff up.
Which is why I’m linking to it. Knitters unite! or unravel, as required.
Physio kicked my ass this morning. My flexibility was deemed excellent and worthy of comment, but my lack of strength was considered troubling. Of course. At least I am well enough to start swimming again.
I am showing the cafe tonight, or so I fondly hope, wish me luck.
Keith dropped by last night, it was lovely to see him.
400 words on T4A yesterday.
I picked some organic carrots for snax…. they were yummy. It’s amazing how fast those suckers disappear when they are so slender and fresh.
Good news first, I have been asked to come in and talk to a recruiter this afternoon. This is the closest I’ve gotten to genuine job hunting activity in months so I am obviously thrilled.
Bad news. I’ve lowered the price and still can’t get anybody interested in the cafe; I will have to break the lease. HEAVY HEAVY SIGH.
Tarot for Atheists, a couple of hundred words’ worth of progress.
Turkey soup is on the stove – I will adjust seasoning shortly and then start freezing it in containers. Jeff can’t stand the smell of the bones, and has no idea how this sentence would have ended if I hadn’t backspaced over it.
Replaced cpap machine with one that smells a little less disgusting. I must make a purchase decision within 2 weeks.
Completed writing down a song, converted it to midi and fired it off to mOm. I only have another hundred songs to write out. It really IS the Song That Never Ends.
Herewith today’s linkorama:
If you rape a girl and leave her naked outside in freezing weather, and you work for your family’s restaurant, and your local prosecutor despite eyewitnesses and video refuses to prosecute, and then the whole town turns on the rape victim and burns her house down, well, the internet just might give bad reviews to your restaurant.
Eddie is the senior cat in the household. He’s 15 or 16, and while his back end is starting to be saggy, he’s a very sleek and healthy cat who simply despises Miss Margot…. or pretends to.
Last night Jeff and I were watching the thrilling conclusion of the 1st season of Veronica Mars when Eddie started to howl.
Normally he howls when he’s caught something and brought it back into the house or he howls from existential angst. This time it was low, sad howls, and he didn’t want to move away from the cat door.
I looked at my brother and said in a horrified whisper, “Where is Margot?” Normally when we watch tv she’s parked at the top of the stairs or on the floor close to the tv.
The two of us leaped up and searched the house. Jeff popped the front door and Margot bolted into the house from her hiding place under my car, where she’d obviously been trapped by another cat.
Which is how we learned that he has a special call when Margot is in trouble, because that’s how he was the last time he rescued Margot (she got locked in the garage). He got many skritches for his assistance, and Margot of course is impervious to correction or comment.
Brinicles. I had no idea such things existed.
Katie will be heading off for bloodwork this morning. She is fasting, and thus tired and cranky.
Izzy and I (the grandsnake) bonded nicely last night. He is one of the most hand tame snakes I ever interacted with, although I will never feel about him the way I feel about Speck, a little snake who hung out in my hat for an hour at a party, thus triggering the single funniest triple take I’ve ever seen in my life.
Margot is prowling around my room and quacking. Yesterday she got up in Creamy’s grill (he’s the Samoyed next door) by walking up to him when he was tethered outside, getting him to bark furiously, and then pelting away. What a jerk she can be.
Paul and Keith took me and Katie to supper last night at the Grand Buffet. In a stupefying and gratifying demonstration of customer service, the expensive sunglasses Keith left there a month ago were produced as soon as he appeared. You can bet Keith tipped the living shit out of those servers. The crab was particularly good.
I have found an internet radio station that plays bluegrass gospel, and it has no annoying commercials. That’s what we have on at the store now. It’s bright and bouncy and banjerrific.
Biz still slow and interestingly variable. Paul bought cherry biscotti, my latest creation, and took it to work, and there was much rejoicing. His work is going well. Per parental instructions I will be baking and shipping biscotti out to them by the end of the month.
All my friends from Ontario seem to be living through hellish times. I am not. I am having difficulties with certain aspects of my life, but these things tend to self correct. As mOm remarked, this too shall pass. In the meantime I have a loving family, a good place to live, choice friends, good health (even my back is whining less…) and the best stupid cat in the world. Hey, at least she’s keeping herself clean, although I still have to brush and de-eye-gunk her frequently.
I am now washing my hands forty times a day. It’s like acquiring OCD or something. Thank god for Uremol, and many thanks to LadyMissB for putting me on to it.
Off to work now.
… Or I should say squawking, according to Jeff.
I bought and brought back two packs of specially blended tea from Friday Afternoon, the Serenity blend and the Inara blend. The Serenity blend is extremely tasty (I’m consuming it right now) and the Inara blend we’ll have to wait to drink. Jeff and I have both now quit coffee so I’m looking for less caffeinated beverages to enjoy. It was Friday’s daughter who was the littlest filk wench. TTTO Away in a Manger
The littlest filk wench no corset she has
She jumped into the wenching with verve and pizzazz
With hair all of gold and eyes of bright blue
Just try not to bid when she’s gazing at you.
Mom’s in the dealer room all unawares
how her girl’s superpowers she now freely shares
The littlest filk wench said “LET’S DO THIS THING!”
and Douglas and J. heard the coffers ka-ching.
Seanan McGuire took the stage for a bid
Showing how a fan’s name she had cleverly hid
She said “and he might die quite horribly”
And the littlest filk wench cried “NO SPOILERS!” with glee.
She said “SAY ONE HUNDRED!” and the adults all quailed
We all came with a budget and once more we failed
Twas all for a good cause and we all shared a laugh
But how I wish I’d gotten that girl’s autograph!