Being a middle aged fannish woman looks like this

“Oh we’ve never seen anything present with those symptoms before, and candidly if you lost 40 (gained 20) pounds most of the problems – which appear to be in your head anyway – would go away, and here’s an antidepresessant and here’s an antipsychotic since I haven’t destroyed your ability to complain about your imaginary symptoms and there’s another test I’d like you to try. I wouldn’t be using that word iatrogenic in quite that snippy tone my dear.” Rinse, repeat with different doctors, 15 years later get a diagnosis from literally the FIRST DOCTOR WHO TAKES A PROPER HISTORY OH MY GOD. I wish I had heard this story only once. I have heard variants of it at least once a year for the last ten.  I only dodged it by stopping with the prescription mood drugs. I know I would have had a smoother time of it this last while, but life with the mountains ground down to a Vancouver lawn in July and the deep rolling waters turned into greasy holes full of algae ten feet deep / across is no place I want to live.

 

Also, god damn child abusers.  We need to end this scourge.

 

Are you Mary?

Instant mini housefilk at Cindy’s place; me and Paul and Cindy and Miss K for appreciative audience. SUCH A GOOD TIME. Also we gave blood then we ate Indian food and went to the Bloedel Conservatory and I got into a discussion with a parrot and then nearly passed out from being down a pint and Paul sat with me for the 20 minutes it took for me to recover… all this happened before the housefilk. Feeling fine now but tired obvs, it was quite a day. Funny story… go to give blood at the Oak St Clinic, gal at reception asks “are you Mary?” which I hear as Are You Married, and I say no we’re divorced. So now on top of everything else I need to get my hearing checked.

 

Happy Pluto Flyby and Bastille Day

763 words on a new chapter.

Watched Girlfight, an excellent, excellent film.  Very glad Jeff pulled it out of the pile for me.

In about half an hour I’m going to go pick up Keith from the ferry.  Maybe we’ll stop off somewhere on the way home if he’s not too bagged.

Tim Horton’s is threatening to make poutine.  I will stick to the Spud Shack or Anny’s, merci bien tout le monde.

Drifting off

I am not always smart about my physical limitations, and I worked on Mike last night past my ability.  So I have a very sore right shoulder which I am being gingerly with, and also recognizing I’m coming up on two years for breaking my right shoulder in the first place…. and I’ll be throwing somatic fart bombs at myself to remind that on this day a bad thing happened, cause that’s how humans who understand a calendar roll.  Stuff that’s on the surface gets stuffed under, like the motion of Kelvin-Helmholtz waves in that first mutual encounter with shear.

 

I want you to read it here first. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong with a big smile on my face.  But I’m tellin’ you, the features on Pluto are not physical.  They are clouds.  The atmosphere is so cold that weather systems can form hexagons, and they are nose to tailing across the atmosphere like a dragon.  I bet you also that the hexagons play crack the whip, and sometimes one of the hexagons will break off the end and die. The different colours of the surface are from the  large scale weather systems picking up tholins off the ground where they’ve been deposited and mixing them with other compounds that change the albedo of the top of the atmosphere.  It just LOOKS like physical features. Closer to the ground, pretty much everything is reddish orange.  There are also scars from collisions and impacts but I think the picture we’re getting from Pluto is weather, almost all of it.

I’m taking myself off line for writing for the rest of the day.  I’m in a very strange mental state and I just want to sit and try to process.

Last night Mike played Poems Prayers and Promises for me, by John Denver (I thought that it was a Denver tune before he told me, so I’m glad my ability to see another artist is not completely verkockt) and it was amazing.

Then he practiced the guitar portions of a bunch of classic Simon and Garfunkel, and that’s what I fell asleep to.    Sometimes the simplest magic is the most powerful.

I’m feeding Ayesha, so I need to figure out when I’m heading over there this afternoon.  I am SO HAPPY it started to rain.  We all need it, physically, environmentally, emotionally.

 

Words today, words yesterday

325 today so far, about 300 yesterday.  I am slowing down again and I hate it.

Perhaps the prospect of a meal out will assist. Mike will cruise by around supper time.  Sounds like he’s had a gharstly week.

Spoke to Chipper today – and she was.  Things are looking up, and that is wonderful.

Sent along some pics from Paul to mOm, who is grateful to have a recent picture of Phyllis and Alex.

brO has been very very helpful today with computer stuff and I’m grateful and pleased.

Practiced this morning for almost an hour.  Tried to write a song but noodled instead.

 

The bliss of a perfect summer day

I went to IKEA yesterday with Mike; we met up there with Jarmo and Susanna and Ville.  His hair is as satisfyingly rotund as I remember it – like a scale model light brown version of Phineas – and that is more than enough for me to say on the subject.

Then Mike purchased blackout curtains and I purchased what seemed like a good deal in plastic containers, plus another IKEA bag to take it home in.  Hey, they come in handy for laundry.

We sat on the deck and looked at the conjunction of Venus and Jupiter and drank beer and he went home.

Today Paul came over around 1:30 and we walked in the shady part of Oakalla.  Everything is dry and still and creepy – leaves crashing off the trees.  The only critters were a tiny flash of a great blue heron, a cute little butterfly, a couple of towhees, and a russet thrush up in the trees trilling.

He accompanied me on a shopping trip so I loaded up on veggies.  Now I’m waiting to hear from Keith to see if he’s saved us a seat at the pub at the Quay in New West where we can watch the fireworks.  I know from twitter that the fireworks barge is already there.

If he can’t reserve us a seat, and who knows what will happen, I’m thinking I borrow that stool of Jeff’s and grab a blanket and then I can sit wheresoever I please.

Wrote yesterday but can’t remember the count, 497 words so far today.  It was so pleasant to watch the word count tip over 50,000.  Only 40,000 to go. Writing today has been infill and closing chapters for further addition.  Sometimes I feel very penny dreadful in the way I have to always be throwing something new and potentially scary at the reader, and then very nursery-sloppy about how I try to soothe the reader after the scare.  I’ve tried hard to give my lead character’s language a jarring, neo-Victorian feel.  And that’s way more than I should talk about because that all sounds like I’m taking it seriously.  I do, but it’s supposed to be fun and I’m trying to write it that way.  I think I have vast reservoirs of fun in me, but difficult of access at times.

I feel very blessed to be among my friends and family.

I should probably go chop vegetables and what not.

May you all have a good Canada Day, and I salute the First Nations of this land, without whose continued stewardship, under such duress, we could not be as we are.

 

Hey they are potboilers

Why am I so worried?

Yesterday was a day I saw all of my descendents, and how lucky I am to have any at all. Katie is recovering nicely from her trip and Alex was a little trouper (who practically turned himself inside out with smiles when he saw his papa upon his return.)

Alex prefers women, apparently.  He liked Phyllis.  Paul apparently spent a lot of time trying to get his mother to walk.  I can see Keith doing the same thing to me if I’m spared.

Two hundred words yesterday.  I do like Pharos and George.

I’m going to call it.  There is another American Civil War.  Unlike the previous one, it is undeclared… in keeping with current US policy.

 

Moar editing

I’m going to do another pass before I print it out.  It’s a chunk of a tree, after all.

I light a candle for the dead of Charleston, and pray that the Confederate Flag (actually the flag of the Army of Northern Virginia, but whatevs you racist fwads) will never fly above a state capital ever again.

Southern historian Gordon Rhea further wrote in 2011 that:

It is no accident that Confederate symbols have been the mainstay of white supremacist organizations, from the Ku Klux Klan to the skinheads. They did not appropriate the Confederate battle flag simply because it was pretty. They picked it because it was the flag of a nation dedicated to their ideals: ‘that the negro is not equal to the white man‘. The Confederate flag, we are told, represents heritage, not hate. But why should we celebrate a heritage grounded in hate, a heritage whose self-avowed reason for existence was the exploitation and debasement of a sizeable segment of its population?

 

No words

I messed about with editing.

I suspect I’m feeling jelly of all my travelling friends and rellies.

I’m going to buy a bead curtain on line if I don’t cobble together something from around hear out of scraps. I have an idea that would be fabulous and would take about two hours or less to make, but it’s one of those things that would turn into a HALF DONE PROJECT and go back in a drawer if I didn’t power through it all at once.

Love this comic.

Love this collection of critters.  Next time somebody starts talking God’s law to you regarding the proper constitution of a family, remember the Goose, the Hen and the Ducklings.

I made ONE OFFHAND COMMENT on Reddit, and doubled my comment karma OVERNIGHT. The internet is a wacky place.  Oh, and I had to school a guy who was telling me that I wasn’t being a good feminist.  He didn’t respond, but I got 16 upvotes, so go me.

Aw weel

I’ve decided to bail on writing today, and why not, Mike’s taking me to supper. (Or I could report the 13 words I wrote today, not counting the smidge on the supersekrit project which I shouldn’t even talk about or think about.)

The second interview went very well.  I suspect they will match the position to another of the candidates, but I didn’t shame myself, and I had a pretty good time.  Thank you Jeff for the loan of the vehicle.

 

 

Yay, writing

Yesterday’s count was 864 words.

brOJeff has identified the best webcam of all time.  WALRUS CAM.  Right now it’s coming up dawn, but a beachful of walruses will be a sure remedy for woe.

The boys dropped by on the way to paddling at Widgeon Creek yesterday.  They ate up some food and we had a nice chat.

Today I have to cook up some salmon.