The new nova that showed up in Delphinius is alREADy losing luminosity, so we may not even get a chance to see it before it fades beyond binocular recall.
Andrew Brechin is dead. He was active in the poly, SCA, pagan, lantern festival, fannish, filkish, trans & queer rights, union and clown band communities; he could pun without apparent effort, was a wonderful coparent to a number of children, not all of whom were biologically his, made me laugh harder than any of my other facebook friends, and he was younger than me. He wore OUTRAGEOUS hats, and once showed up to Fetish Night dressed as Cthulhu (man, he musta sweated his balls off in that head to toe gear) with no fewer than 8 skimpily dressed women in attendance as his priestesses. (The pic is now going round the internet like a dose of salts).
He apparently died in his sleep, which is definitely the way to go except it should have been at minimum 30 years hence. I only met him half a dozen times, if that, but he was the menschiest of men and had more friends – more real friends – than many people could claim. The last time I saw him IRL he and Mike M. realized that they had sat next to each other in engineering school (and they both flunked out, mOm tell pOp that as I think he will find that mildly amusing). And we ate. There’s a memorial dinner for him next week and unless I feel really bad I’m going, because I want to hear more stories about how awesome he was, and I think he had the coolest friends circle in town. I will miss his wit, his humanity and his mighty heart for justice. I had no idea Cindy knew him – her precis of her relationship with him on livejournal practically had me in tears.
The video camera aimed at the cat door has revealed that Miss Margot does not re-enter the house daintily. Generally she rockets through the door at such a rate of speed that the effect is quite comical. Hope to have video at some point.
Physiotherapist scolded the crap out of me. NO I MAY NOT DRIVE. I may do the following three exercises. I may not sleep on the injured shoulder. MY POSTURE SUCKS (HOW HE FROWNED). Here is how I should sleep. I crept out of there in a very sad frame of mind, but I’ve been doing my exercises faithfully.
Showed the shop two days ago, showing it to a different set of customers tomorrow. I am no longer worried about it…. it is what it is, I have a roof and food and friends and painkillers, so tra la la. Also Cadfael on Netflix. Man, I do heart Derek Jacobi.
I have the tester cpap machine. A new one is going to cost 2400 dollars, but it’s the ResMed, and it has all of the features I want. The tech said the Respironics machines break like clockwork just out of the warranty period, and he’s sold 300 of the ResMeds and only one ever came back and that was because the dumbass customer left the water in when he put it in his car and of course fried the circuitboards. I haven’t started using it because CANDIDLY I am feeling just that little bit overwhelmed at all of the changes I’ve had to deal with in the last six months. Getting into and out of the restaurant, Audrey and Andrew and Bareld dying, breaking my shoulder, deaths and breakups in my circle of close friends, Kira dying, estrangement from one of my children, not being able to drive…. and there’s more but listing it all seems a mug’s game. And of course if I don’t mention how my church family has rallied round me I’d be a true mug.
Jeff and I are heading out to Home Depot. Type atcha later.
