Category: Writing

At the end of the walk Paul says we really should be going I am late for getting the car back to Katie to pick up Alex and I just hate stared him and leaped out of the car at Deer Lake Parkway so he could go straight home and I took the bus because if there’s one thing I KNOW about being a mom it’s the blank terror of knowing you’re going to be late to pick up your child and you’re going to get charged and they’ll hate you, which may get transferred to your kid.

So, Jeff that’s why I didn’t pick up any treats.

I have an appointment to have my test results interpreted for me at 2 on Monday. If I was dying they would have called me in faster, so I have to assume that I’m just ‘porely.’ I got about four days of relief from the gut pain but it came back in spades the day before yesterday. She’s going to bitch at me about not quitting wheat like she told me to but I’m going to fix her with my bloodshot stare (lots of staring, so much staring) and say “Did you know that a lot of selfcare is the art of the fucking possible and given that I have not consumed so much as a drop of alcohol since you told me not to with the exception of two drops of vanilla flavouring, let’s work on what I can manage thanks.”

 

Oldfud edition: don’t bother reading the rest of this

It was national coming out day yesterday. I find it entertaining that with each passing year I find myself less interested in identifying as bisexual and more as being non-binary. There’s no place in lesbian culture for me (which is fine, safe spaces and all and I can’t complain about welcomes I’ve received earlier) and I’m anti TERF (like, they’ve attacked me online, can you believe it?) and the older I get the more I take a kind of pagan godlike ‘who gives a shit about the naughty bits’ attitude. So I’m poly and non-binary because that’s where I feel I’ve settled. Next year, who the hell knows, (this sentence deleted because it was too disgusting to be funny).

Just asking. Doin’ okay and there’s cool stuff on the pvr.

 

October in Vancouver. 8 am NOOGIES FROZEN SEND HOT WATER BOTTLES 2 pm NOOGIES SWEATING HEAVILY SEND ICE.

OLDFUD report: Who the hell knows what she’s on about but she had breakfast with Alex yesterday and is bugging Katie to forward the picture so can I go back to my paper now.

 

I’m feeling better and Mike’s back in town.

yes it is time to rant und rolle. but I’m SO LAZY AND THE CAT IS SITTING ON ME NOW AND EVERY TIME I TYPE HIS HEAD GOES UP AND DOWN

My single most liked tweet has to do with Beavis saying “Are you threatening me?” and now I feel like a big moron. But happy anyway.

 

Corrected somebody on twitter this morning it’s tenet not tenant — jesus christ now maybe the correct spelling will take up residence in your brain….

Deleted two tweets. One could have been perceived as lecturing or hectoring a person of colour, the other was a childish me too.

But what about the Intersex People? poor little SJW that I am I didn’t realize that the brand new term cisgender was going to be taking flak from intersex people but now I have to get my mouth ’round this doorknob, intellectually speaking.

I am having an interesting convo on twitter about transmisogyny though and hope to learn something before the day is done. ONE CANNOT COMPARE THE HORRORS OF CIRCUMCISION TO INTERSEX PEOPLE WHO HAVE THEIR GENITALIA MUCKED WITH AT BIRTH BY EXCITABLE PARENTS AND SURGEONS. Okey dokey then. Guess I can only do that in private.

 

 

He is three.

HE WOKE UP THIS MORNING SAYING WHY and did not stop. (I got to listen to him in the car. He did not say that yesterday. But he’s three so he’s going to DRIVE US frazzled with why why why!)

Alex and Katie and I went for breakfast at Cora’s. It was lovely and I wish I’d had the brains to take a picture, but this is my take away.

He asked to have breakfast with me for his birthday.

HAPPY SIGH.

 

Also I had no idea Zelda Fitzgerald did watercolours.

Like he says.

Heard him play that in a club in Toronto which I imagine isn’t there any more.

Physical health is improving. Phone calls from friends help with the mental health. I still need to go and get bloodwork done.

 

 

as you can see Grandma is ensuring he has all the musical instruments he can fit in his strong little fingers

woke up around 1:30 in much less pain than the new normal so I’m taking it as a good sign.

Somebody made me think to repost all the fanfic I took down. I’m pondering  it.

Ultrasound in 6 hours. Not being able to eat (or drink) between now and then will be a trial but I’m also thinking I’m going to eat a completely swinish late breakfast on the Drive somewhere if I’m not too messed up for it. It’s mere blocks from the clinic.

 

Ultrasound tomorrow morning, other tests today if I can actually get it together to leave the frickin’ house.

Paul and Lois are off to Ontario. Their dedication to seeing their elderly mother is very heartening and they’ll also be doing the sibling and nibling thing.

Watched a number of excellent films this  past week: Baby Driver,  The 100 year old man who climbed out of a window and disappeared, and Brainstorm (Natalie Wood’s last movie).

Quitting alcohol has definitely helped. My sleep is very interrupted still though.

I have about three or four hours a day when my tummy hurts too much for me to want to do anything but lie perfectly still, except of course I can’t get comfortable.

Mike and Keith were over a couple of days ago and that was delightful.

 

I am genuinely sick. There’s something seriously wrong – literally minutes after my bloodwork came back the doc wanted to see me. I’m seeing doctors and getting moar tests. With luck, this was all triggered by a treatable infection. Without luck, the next part of my life is going to suck, hoo boy.

Plus pain. That’s never fun.

she has weathered like a mountain he has shrunken like an apple

she has raged against the dimming light he has said o is it getting darker

she has been and gone he is done and dusted

she is a scandalous matriarch in a purple glass throne he is a perpetually surprised jester / major domo

she gets up in the morning he scowls at consciousness with weary contempt

she fills her days with pixels he fills his days with pixels

they fill their days with medical appointments and fixing the past

in the memories of these twitchy people from the future

this little boy

As I pursue a diagnosis, I had to put some poop in a bottle.

 

which takes me back to the good old days

 

When I was working reception at Employee Health as a summer job at UH, the dietary department experienced a hepatitis outbreak, which, holy shitbags, you really don’t want in a hospital dietary staff group. So of course in those days (1980 ish) you needed a largish chunk of hinder-end donations to go in a bottle for testing.

The weekend staff left their deposits on the Employee Health main entrance desk, in a large array of paper bags, some of which had definitely experienced a higher degree of structural integrity in the recent past.

My supervisor came in and, glaring fit for the movies said loudly, GET THIS SHIT OFFA MY DESK. Supervisors didn’t swear in those days so it was hella cute.

These days they give you a container about the size of ten stacked bobby pins, tell you DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES GET URINE OR TOILET WATER ON THIS and then you stab your shit with the spiralized end and get just enough shit on it to say that you did, because they don’t want any more if it than that. None of that shit now.

I have to eat something and then not eat something to go get my helicobacter breath test. blerg.

It’s probably an ulcer. I’ve been diagnosed with IBS as well.

More later.

Today I adulted by getting up and writing a shopping list, since Jeff and I are going shopping.

I worked on ‘the doorbell rang’ chapter and blocked out some stuff, total around 150 words but the wordage doesn’t reflect the work put in, as is often the case.

Sixers can give consent in one language but not another. That sure makes legal questions difficult.

Started The Blacklist on Netflix.

I’m doing an SF AU Destiel fic, and somebody should run me over with a truck.

I have such a craving to see 3 Caballeros.

Well well well, there are civil war re-enactresses.

I’m hoping to write today. Tomorrow I go see the doc about the six weeks of griping abdominal pain and bloating I’ve had.  I suspect incipient hernia, either that or I’m dying of something quite unpleasant. I’m wearing my back brace in the meantime and feel somewhat better.

My bedroom floor is still clean! Still have more sorting and tidying and mostly dejunking but the trend is good.

I’d just like to say FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU  to the fucking doctors who prescribe meds for BPH to MEN I LOVE without telling them that the side effects are COMPLETE PANCAKING OF LIBIDO, MENTAL DULLNESS AND YOU CAN’T GIVE BLOOD UNTIL SIX MONTHS AFTER YOU STOP TAKING IT.

Honestly. Fuck all y’all.

Stanislav Petrov, the Man Who Saved The World, whom I first wrote about here in April 2005, has passed away. I always toast him if there’s vodka about.

Sean Spicer getting a gig at the Emmys must have been like a punt to the grunt for any BIPoCs there. Fuck whoever decided to hire him, hard, with spiky shit.

I have lots to screech about this morning, but I’m going to write instead.

I’m at the Aerie, and the world is a blur of Turneresque clouds with a hint of sun somewhere. Mike took me to Chronic Taco last night and I had the salad bowl with beef and a draft Parallel 49, which was absolutely what I wanted.

I’ve been promised breakfast. I’ve already broken into the Starbucks hot chocolate so I’m ready to wait another couple of hours before Mike achieves consciousness. I’ve been up since 5:30.

Wrote 453 words yesterday and today… who knows!