Settler words&music in S'ólh Téméxw, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in MST country. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming soon, Hair Sinister after that. —Restore All Indigenous Lands!
I’m getting a strong urge to call someone I no longer speak to and it’s driving me batty.
Finished Schmigadoon, it was quite fun and goodhearted. The last number was a bit of a disappointment since it was orchestrated like modern Christian rock (loathe me so many tambourines, I really do) but all in all it was quite enjoyable.
Air quality is holding up reasonably well at ground level but there’s a shitpile of particulates between us and the sun. Jeff, as usual, is feeling it worse than I am.
This graphic has no relevance to my life right now, things are akshully okay.
I made a lovely couple of turkey patties yesterday for supper – made fried mushrooms and chopped onions and lettuce and tomato to go with and toasted the buns first. It was restaurant quality, although way less salty; I used ground cumin, black pepper, a tiny bit of salt, some cayenne/paprika spice mix, a couple of drops of Worcestershire and a fuckton of garlic powder for the effect. Very pleased with the results. I shall cook some more up today as well for luncheon.
This morning I got up and put a load of laundry on just to prove that I’m not a total slug. Haven’t heard from Buster yet this morning. (That was an hour ago; he was calling in the hall at (just now) 6:15, probably wanting to complain to management about the state of the sky again.) He’s really gone off training, I don’t know whether it’s because he’s feeling punk from scrapping, or he’s otherwise distracted, or I’m failing him in some way, I’ve been a little off myself. The anxiety paced the AQI yesterday, which went from a comfy 44 to over 100 in a six hour period, and with each rise in the particulates the anxiety, which is physical because the air quality impacts your breathing, spikes.
I’m also working on what I hope will be viewed as a funny, newsy letter to One I Love. Around seven we’ll go shopping, now that we know we’re not going to Bowen Island for a portion of the weekend. I am peeved, but not enough to whine about it too much.
250 words so far this morning on Honey on the Moon Redux, which is my second attempt to write Honey on the Moon, and which is now separate from Best Roommate in the World. Quite a bit of it is changing Musqueam to MST and it amazes me how much the verbiage around things changes when you’re actually trying to be sensitive instead of assuming that you are. I mean, I still assume I am more than I am, but it’s interesting.
Buster trained after I brushed him. Order of operations issues ??? hoo noze, iz cat.
