Saturday, April 30, 2011


Battlestar rewatch slash quilting festival.

Starting with the miniseries and Baby Ryan's quilt. Go!

It's been the most gorgeous day. Brother and little niece came by to hoist a cupcake (their term) and present me with a set of stuffed Timmy Time characters. SO AWESOME. You know how much I love Timmy Time. The duck with swim goggles, the dog in his harness, the orange cat, the pig in the sweater, and of course TIMMY. Yay! Baaaaaaaa! Baa, baa. Baaaaa? Baaaaaa.

Look, it's Colonel Tigh! YAY!

We got the big screen over the front of the garage so kitty's been lying there in the sun all afternoon, looking out and sniffing, getting warm fur from the sun. Happy kitty!

My favorite thing was that little niece pulled Princess Leia in her end-of-Star-Wars long white dress out of the toy trunk and said she was the princess she saw on tv this morning. Princess Kate, who just got married. The queen wore a yellow dress, she said. Okay, yes, Kate did look almost exactly like Leia but still! Must get our cultural references in order, so I put Star Wars on and now she knows who Leia and Luke and Han Solo and Darth Vader are.

Can you believe she got to 3.5 without ever seeing this movie? Shocking! I am derelict in my auntly duties.

I only have an ancient pan and scan VHS copy but still, she was riveted, watching it from about a foot away, standing there with an action figure in each hand. Hurray!

Then she got the Luke and Darth Vader Return of the Jedi action figures with light sabers in their hands and made them fight. Hurray!

And when we went outside, she turned the bubble wand into a light saber. MY WORK HERE IS DONE.

Watching Star Wars made me absolutely have to see Battlestar again, right exactly now now now. 

Oooh, Caprica City! There goes Serenity flying past! That makes me so happy every single time.

I have to go. Oh my goodness I love this show.

Friday, April 29, 2011

Really, a whole new organism I'd never heard of, with no cell walls? How does it keep its innards in?

I did not know that mycoplasma existed. Did you? It's not susceptible to antibiotics because it has no cell walls, which I guess is how antibiotics kill...biotics. One way you know I have it is that I got the pneumonia shot, which doesn't cover it.

Anyway that's what's living in lungland and giving me atypical (i.e. walking) pneumonia. I knew it was different from any I'd had before but I did not suspect a whole new mystery organism. It's kind of cool, huh?

Oh you can read about the whole thing here.

It started with headache and ear pain. Someone else has the ear pain at Go There Job which I could not bear to say was how this started. Might fight it off, after all, right?

I had to mow some grass today. It only started growing a week ago. I'm using the push mower so I have to stay on top of it all the time or it'll get unwieldy and then where'll I be? So I might become the fanatical every day lawn mower person from here on out. Beware! Obsessive lawn mowing fixation!

Speaking of, did you see how awesome David Beckham looked at the royal wedding? No? WELL I DID. They're replaying highlights on some channel I never watch and I could not help myself! Let's eat popcorn for dinner and drink an orange dreamcicle and get all weepy watching the gorgeous wedding of some people we've never met! And in fact did not even recognize! I've never seen that Kate girl before in my life because I don't get print media or watch tv news or apparently look at most of the internet. I didn't know which one was William until the overly specific commenter person said, "William is the one in red." Oh! Okay! And who was the putz with him? Oh, his brother.

Sorry, they're still toddlers in my mind.

The queen looks just like my grandma, which just means my grandma was German like the queen. That boy William looks like someone I know too but I can't think who it is. My friend C, maybe? I think so.

Anyway I really enjoyed that a lot. I had no plans for watching it at all. Yay! The hats were HILARIOUS. Like, anthropological oddity hilarious. And the horses and the wacky ceremonial outfits. So much fun.

My very favorite part was when the archbishop of Canterbury took off his gigantic golden hat to say a prayer (I was absolutely not the only one expecting him to say "Mawwiage. That bwessed awwanagement. That dweam within a dweam.") and then put it back on after with a dramatic ribbon-flipping flourish. I clapped and yelled "YAY!" Very nice hat work, your grace or whatever!

I also love the curtseys. I really do. For who knows what reason I used to bob curtseys when someone said praisey things to me. I think just because it entertained me, which is why I do almost everything. (The rest: because I have to. Example: flossing.)

My conclusion: English people really like hats. And drama. And dramatic hats.

My other conclusion: stupid pneumonia can take a stupid hike. Jeez! I am really not very unwell, just coughing so much that it's driving me up the wall. And the lack of sleep is problematic also. Ooh, guess what else is totally a symptom? MOOD SWINGS. Hahahahahahaha! Sob. Thanks for the reenactment, sir.

With the!

I don't know, I say that sometimes. "With the!" It doesn't mean anything. Also I say "Hech," with a ch like church, and I have no idea where that came from either, except possibly an old man in a book by Joan Aiken who says it about some kids. He says, "Hech, sir, the little lass is a fair caution." He's old. Also Scottish. Also fictional. He's allowed.

I don't always notice I'm saying these things until events like my brother saying "Hetch Hetchie" back to me, and then I'm all, "What? What's that? I know that!" It's what was dammed with a dam. The one in The Monkeywrench Gang, maybe? I forget. That's the book with a guy named Hayduke which is Hejduk phonetically.

So there's that.

A Norwegian South Dakotan friend used to say that to end interesting stories if no one responded properly. Like this: la la la la la la la la la la! Long pause. So there's that.

Do you ever start suddenly trying to figure out how many people you know from X place on earth? How many Finns? How many people who speak Spanish fluently? It's because I was thinking of this one guy and I had the most bizarre thought: if we were in Southern California, he'd be Asian.

See, that is a really weird thought on several levels. On one level I know what I mean. He has this way about him that I associate with second generation Asian friends from there. A pattern of behavior and just a whole general gestalt.

On another level, though...okay, that sort of looks at this situation as if cast from a limited talent pool. If we'd had X talent pool, this role would be played by Y! Which is just a very odd way to look at the world. And I don't really know what that says about me.

Hech, indeed.

Well let's see. There's this killer bug still rampaging around in my respiratory system, but I'm feeling all fine and sturdy and whatnot, so I don't think it's going to kill me or anything. You know how you get all weak and run down when you're super sick? I'm not. But I do have the bad chest things going on. The constant buzzing and rattling, and of course the nonstop horrible cough. But I'm fighting it, right? So I'm okay? I only worry if it starts to knock me down.

Also my over-achiever instinct (stunted!) has kicked in over the goofy peak flow meter. It gauges how much air you can puff out in liters per second, I guess. I'm still off the charts low. It's lower than a five foot tall 80 year old woman should be able to puff out, to put it into perspective. That's the lowest number on the chart. I actually started looking at the children's chart to see where I fell there, and then realized that was absurd.

Clearly the answer is to get a French horn. Builds breathing skills! Very important! I think so too. So I would like to come across a sweet mellow double horn in a yard sale for twenty bucks. This weekend. Please. Okay!

Rats, I don't have any cash. I was thinking about that and realized I only ever use it for yard sales. When would I ever use cash? But it's been winter forever so no yard sales.

Really, if you don't go out to eat or use parking meters or pay to park, or use vending machines, or ever buy things like coffee or stamps, or go to stores at all, really, what use is it? Why should I have any?

I got some a couple of weeks ago and then was paying for something at Walmart and made them use the cash toward my total, which I then finished with a debit card. I think that's weird too. But not as weird as thinking that this one guy would be Asian if he lived somewhere else.

Anyway I'm not sure about the respiratory infection thing but if it gets any more pneumoniacal I'll get it seen to. I mean, what's that about? It's all in my chest and hurts but it isn't like pneumonia as I remember it.

The coughing is anti-social and unpleasant. It doesn't like work, or motion, or fresh air, or cold air, or lying down. It likes sitting still on the couch. It causes severe sleep difficulties, but only for the first four or five hours of the night. After that, it's smooth sailing.

Oh, right, I'm exhausted. Must go to bed. I was watching all this tv and supposedly drinking a whole Carafe Serge full of water but I sort of forgot, so now I'm making it up. Which is another reason I'll be awake later tonight. Tv was weirdly good, unless that's the fever speaking. (I don't have a fever.) Grey's Anatomy and Bones both had episodes that were like what you'd write if you totally loved the first five seasons of each show and were in angry denial about the recent ones. The characters were all spot on from how they first were and into their later development, just note perfect. Like, you know how you can put a bunch of dots on a graph and then draw a line that averages them out? This was that line.

Bones even made me forget that the actor who shall not be named is a sad disgusting junk waver and Grey's completely got to me in a scene that pulled the whole entire series together, where Adele mistakes Meredith for Ellis. I know! That means nothing to you unless it means something!

Clearly it means Richard is a carrier for Alzheimer's. Wait, no.

Okay, I lied, Bones was annoying with the pizzicato of cuteness and the thing where everyone got really into something and behaved stupidly in ways they never, ever would do based on six solid seasons of evidence. Really, Bones? It was like children's television kind of obvious behavior. It was like a moral lesson for our time acted out with paper dolls. I was sad.

But it did have people using outlier words in normal passing conversation, which fills me with glee, words like pungent and acrid. And it wasn't even Brennan! Oh, gosh. I'm seriously powerfully middle of the road about this episode, but glad to see the Brennan and Booth relationship finally getting written right again. Jeez!

I feel like the show is about to get canceled, don't you? I do. It's not that I want it to. I just feel like it will.

It's lovely to see Grey's back, though. Hurray! Now Arizona just needs to fall off the planet and I'll be all set. The character, not the state. Though even she shaped up today and stopped being the most annoying selfish jealous whiny self-absorbed person ever. A few weeks ago the show had a character exactly like her set up as the girlfriend from hell, such that you were supposed to cheer when the boyfriend patient guy told her to take a hike. Grey's, how do you not see that Arizona is exactly like that? She made her pregnant girlfriend's terrible car accident all about herself. Yucky!

I was just reading something that said: "Your life is not about you." I can't remember where. But it gave me pause. Really? Who's it about? Oh, you must be thinking of people with people! I assure you, my life is about me. I'm all I've got and nobody wants it to be about them, I promise. No, really. I asked. They were like, "Um, no." Who's it supposed to be about? I can't get accepted anywhere to volunteer, including the Red Cross, and I'll never get approved to adopt, let alone foster. Hey, you tell me. Last time I was actually face to face with a friend was September of 2008. Wrap your head around that one for a minute.

No, really, get rejected by everywhere you try to volunteer--volunteer!--and see how that feels. Ha!
I'm all, I'll go volunteer! Do good! Meet people! Help save the world! And the world is like, Um, no thanks, we're good. Why don't you go sit over there? Yeah, we don't even need you to donate blood anymore, but if you have any cash, we'd be glad to relieve you of that. And then I say: I don't carry cash. Ha! Weren't expecting that callback, were you?

So, I mean, I'd forgive Arizona for being all about herself if she wasn't COMPLETELY SURROUNDED BY PEOPLE WHO CARE ABOUT HER. And being mean to them. Sheesh, Arizona. Well anyway she behaved much, much better this episode and everyone else was awesome too, even Alex, who managed to pull off a world-changing miracle by acting like he knew what he was doing.

I just love that! And the cranky old lady who donated the money to help those kids. Yay! I think that whole thing is one of my favorite storylines of all time. Doing amazingly great things out of sheer desperation and by accident thrills me to bits.

Oh right, I'm exhausted and there's this popcorn factory in my lungs. I suspect it is Bringing Me Down, even if not so much physically. Must go to sleep!

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Ooh, a not very good movie that I really like!

Iron Man. Why am I a sucker for this movie? Why, why? I don't like bad boy characters or the whole billionaire playboy thing and Stark is just a lousy person, isn't it? Of course it's all about his redemption, but still. And there are so many ungood traits of this here filmic experience. Implausible! Unrealistic! Embarrassing flag-waving! Thumpy heavy metal soundtrack! Raging sexism and a sidekick of color! Gaaaah!

I still love this movie though. Kindly visualize the chagrined look that Zoe has in The Train Job where she says, "I was weak."

It is really really flowery in here. REALLY flowery. And that's one hyacinth! Whoa. (FLOWERY!!!)

I made the best dinner ever. The chicken chunks, perfectly cooked. The summer squash is cooked but still slightly crisp. The sauce is orange juice, honey, salt, pepper, cayenne, and flour to thicken it up. The sauce came out so good I'm pretty much licking out the bowl. I did that fancy cook thing where you cook the chicken and then take it out and make the sauce in the pan and let it reduce and then put the chicken back in and cook the squash right then and then add in the flour to thicken it up.

I think I might be learning fancy cooking by osmosis. I'm not studying it or even thinking about it. Just, go! Cook! Eat! But I am near chefs a lot which obviously proves the osmosis theory, QED.

TONY STARK WAS ABLE TO BUILD THIS IN A CAVE! WITH A BOX OF SCRAPS! Hee, I love watching Jeff Bridges chomp on the scenery.

I went out and bought tissues, you'll be so glad to hear. And guaifenesin without the stuff I'm allergic to, the things that seem to be in all the cough syrups. Then yet another solitary tom turkey sighting. It must be time for all the toms to go out and look for the ladies, eh? Somehow I got home and it was time to do aerobical things in a moderately coughy manner and without the whole jumping up and down part, because, don't be silly. And then cooking all the dinner and eating it up and oh yeah then it was now.

I think Glee caused a sudden dramatic Gwyneth Paltrow fan transformation in me. What is up with that? Before I had that very common reaction to her. You know, sure, she's talented and all that, but comes across as smarmy and sanctimonious. Wait, is that common? I think so. But now I totally like her. She was HILARIOUS on Glee and seemed to have a tremendous sense of humor about everything including herself. So now when she just popped up on Iron Man, I was all, yay! It's her!

Might be time to watch Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow again. I love that movie. Love it! Lens cap.

Iron Man is awesome with the sound muted because sometimes it's this yelling fight between two giant robots with non-moving mouths. So it goes: shot of one robot's face! Shot of the other robot's face! Shot of the first robot's face! And back to the second robot's face! And although I know they're talking, the shots are just immobile robot faces. Yay!

I got no sleep last night due to endless coughing fits and blah blah. And now it's ten o'clock. Do you know where your hollow chocolate bunnies are?

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Door? What door?

Argh! Crisis of boredom and anomie! It's the dullest crisis ever!

It really is a crisis, though. I can't stand how boring and dull and grim things are. And where's my energy to do anything? Anything at all? Nowhere, that's where.

I am looking for bootstraps and not finding them.

Okay, part of it is utter and total birthday dread. DREAD. How can I not even have any ideas for what would be fun? But it's true. Dumb as it is, there isn't anything I want to do. That is just completely wrong!

I know how it'll go. I'll go to work and come home. I'll bake a cake the day before because I'll be too down the day of, and if I don't there won't be any. I'll cook some chicken and vegetables or just have popcorn or something, and then eat cake and watch Glee even if it's a rerun. Then I'll put on Wonderfalls or another selection from the Dysfunctional Diaries. I won't hear from anyone except possibly D, and then I'll go to sleep.

Which is just like every day, which would be fine except I'm not enjoying any of them. What is the matter with me?

Sometimes books are good. Yay, books! Sometimes there's a good tv show. Yay, tv show! I don't knit anymore. Rarely quilt. Writing is pretty intermittent. Well, I work two jobs, that's true. Sometimes I cook or bake. Woo, mostly borderline functionality except when it isn't, which is a lot of the time.

Got any solutions? No, you don't.

On the positive side, the little potted hyacinth has opened up and smells really wonderful.


Better than last night, sheesh! I sure was wheezy in the breathery, that kind of constant popping and crackling that makes the whole oxygen exchange thing seem highly iffy. And this morning it was even worse. But I slept all day and after some unpleasant time upon waking that we shall draw a veil over, or at least a bandanna, things are much better now.

Thank goodness is all I can say. I'd have gone to the doctor if I really had to, but it's much better not to have to.

One thing I learned from all the doctoring back and forth from L.A. and here is that I get lots and lots of oxygen when this stuff starts up because when I have difficulty breathing, I start to panic and hyperventilate. Which, okay, isn't ideal, but it does mean I'm not going to suffocate like it feels like. Which calms me down. And then I'm better for calming down. See?

They put a thing on your finger and peer at it and say, "Your O2 sats are really good," and then they look at you accusingly, sitting there wheezing and coughing innocently with the albuterol robot pumping chemical steam.

I always hyperventilate on the robot because otherwise it wastes all that delicious albuterol.

Issues! No kidding! But it's okay, I"m surviving this one. For which, hurray!

I don't like having to miss work, but then again I should have stayed home Friday and yesterday and did not, despite a headache larger than my head and so on, to get certain things done, managed, and enabled, and for that I'd totally pat myself on the back except it would make me cough a lot. It can be a virtual pat. Pat, pat.

Oh! Online Job starts up again today. I mean I had to do it last night but did it Saturday in advance, and now it starts today. Never mind. I just have to remember is all. Remembering enabled! Go!

So I'll do that. And write the book. And then keep sewing those quilt strips that I was sewing Saturday when I went into the complete immobility phase of the ailment. You know, the kind where you just lie there going Ehhhhhhhhhhhhh and occasionally typing a whole lot? That.

I'm reading a book called Some Days There's Pie, which almost immediately changed into Sometimes There's Pie in my mind. Isn't that a better title? I don't know. But it's the one that it morphs into. It's good, if aimless. Well, it starts with the end then shows you how we got there, which isn't aimless really--it has a very definite destination--but it's a structural trick that makes me grumpy because it's so self-aware and manipulative when television does it. Which is not this book's fault, is it? No.

But I see it and I go, "Oh boy, this again." Then there's a chyron that says "20 hours earlier" or whatever and yes, I'm very very engaged, but I'm engaged in the way you would be if someone said, "Come on, you have to see this!" and dragged you away from what you were doing. You'd probably be pretty sure it was worth seeing but annoyed at the drama, no? Would you? I would.

I think the only way The Usual Suspects gets away with it (the best example I know) is that there's a huge mystery to be unraveled all throughout, with all the pieces right in front of you the whole time. If there isn't a huge mystery to make it pay off, then it feels manipulative, because it's a purely structural way of adding tension that wouldn't be there otherwise. I don't think The Usual Suspects needs that beginning, necessarily, but I guess it does tell you it's all going to go BOOM in the end and Gabriel Byrne, the most appealing person in the show, might be utterly hosed by the end.

But if it starts off with someone you know (on a show) doing something that you absolutely know they would never do, then you're engaged in a mystery and that works for me. But if it's like, something is about to happen! Let's hold off on letting it happen and tell how we got here! Then it feels like artificial tension by delay. Know what I mean?

How do other people feel about that particular thing that storytelling does?

Anyway I like the book. I like the main character even though (or because) she makes terrible, terrible decisions, because Rose does, and because she walks away from terrible things. I like who Kaylee likes, basically, something I have to keep on remembering as I write. Who is our true heart? Who does that person like or hate?

Basically I just want to write my book. I think you can boil nearly everything down to that. And tea.

Monday, April 25, 2011


That was fast. Whoosh! Bronchitis. Whoosh! Pneumonia. Well, at least it's *trying* really hard to be pneumonia and I can't breathe one bit.

I even got out the peak flow meter to check out just how much I can't breathe. Worse than L.A.! Dude! It's off the chart low.

So I might go to the doctor if it's not better tomorrow. But I was running around in the goldang freezer AGAIN because even though every day I positively VOW that I will not go back in that freezer, I will wear tights and girly shoes that are inappropriate and I will NOT go back in that freezer, I end up back in that freezer.

I'm trying not to correlate it with the girl in the fridge phenomenon. Well, I was also in the fridge.

Man, I love seeing Bailey wearing that scrub cap I made. Yay! I was thinking about WKRP the other day and the other Bailey because I had this revelation that I was totally Bailey in my milieu. WKRP Bailey, not Grey's Anatomy Bailey.

Seems to me there's a dog named Bailey somewhere out there too. I'm not that Bailey, though Bailey is an excellent dog name. Or butler. Could be a butler.

These uncrossed hot cross buns are super good, dang. I'm not kidding. Thirty seconds in the microwave. Here, I'll warm some up for you.

I have a big stomping fever and feel all terrible so I'm just going to sit on the couch and watch this Grey's Anatomaton that I may or may not have seen before (still not sure--probably?) and try to figure out who'd I'd be if WKRP were Torchwood. Aha, see? Same open office layout. Of course Gwen is the obvious choice because she's the POV person and all, but I definitely might be Toshiko, don't you think? I am just not sure! Or do you even have to worry about staying within your gender? Because I'm crabby enough to be Owen lately.

Maine people, they do stuff like this: I'm at a stop sign that T-bones to a road with no stop signs. So I'm waiting for this dude in the truck to go, what with how he has RIGHT OF WAY every possible kind of way. Except he's trying to be polite and waiting for me to turn left across in front of him before he turns left to go past me. Except I won't go because he has the RIGHT OF WAY and I would be wrong and breaking the law and stuff.

So I sit there, and then I honk my horn, because criminy! And he's not even sitting still but creeping forward, so it's not like I could go even if I could, which I couldn't. I don't break traffic laws just to make random dudes happy. I really don't.

He finally went, pulled around me, lifting his sunglasses up over his eyes and peering angrily into my car--not just at me, but into the car--and driving very, very slowly.

This is one wacky weird state. I do not understand these people. How about, I don't know, following the traffic laws? Just a thought. It's not nice to be all weird and not follow the laws and try to be helpful to someone else by behaving in an incomprehensible and unpredictable manner. Not nice.

But I appreciate the thought, weird dude.

The net across the back of the front seats is what he was staring at, I think. It makes my car look like a K9 unit. Woof! Am undercover K9 cop with undercover invisible dog just waiting to lunge at you, very bad overcover driver man!

I'll just be drinking the OJ and shivering and all that stuff over here. If the frakking headache would stop this would be sort of okay tolerable not too bad except for the wracking cough thing. So dramatic! I would much rather have a less dramatic ailment. See, Toshiko, I'm telling you. Toshiko is awesome! Wicked smart and capable, just underconfident! Go, Toshiko!

It's probably really good that I can't remember what happens in Children of Earth right now, huh? Must get mitts on that and watch it again, though I know it'll be so very very sad.

Also Battlestar, you know it! They're advertising it on BBC and it's making me frantic to see it again. Must rewatch! With strategic Pegasus episode editing or medication! I'm kind of not kidding about that. I was trying to remember where it started getting vague in my memory and it's pretty much everything after the year in Baltar's hair. After the escape from New Caprica, things get fuzzy. That is SO MESSED UP.

It's time for a chocolate bunny, isn't it? I thought so! I did not manage to eat ANY chocolate bunny on actual Easter! I was too full from freshly baked uncrosssed hot buns. I'm almost too full right now, too.

Chocolate bunny and Battlestar it is!

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Not cross but hot

To eat them while still hot I had to forego the whole cross thing, but since I left out the currants (bleah) and that's what differentiates hot cross buns from plain old buns, who cares? Yummy!

Seriously, that was the nicest dough. Once a professional baker, always a professional baker, I guess, because I was in love with that dough. It's the Milk Bread from Joy of Cooking if you get a hankering for some seriously nice dough. Don't cook it at 425 like they say. 400 would have been fine. It got a little browner than I'd have liked, a little too fast. I mean, they were perfect, but that's because I looked in the oven at 12 minutes instead of the recommended 15 and they were done already.

And then I ate a goodly couple of buns. So very very good! Oh me oh my. I only started them around noon, so I was in the odd position of having leftover pizza for Easter breakfast and atheistic hot cross buns with no crosses for a late lunch.

And yes, I'm all achy and limpy in the joints since yesterday's yeasted pizza dough recursion but what is a policy without tests, am I right? I know! Oh so very sore and limpy without doing a single thing to earn it, no aerobics or digging in the garden or anything like that at all.

But that's because I have a vicious sinus infection. Decanting quarts of vileness from my face is NOT my idea of a good time. Horrors.

I've been reading Pegasus all day. Such a good book! I love that book. Must acquire a hardcover copy to cherish and read over and over and over!

I don't usually get that excited about fantasy but it's highly intelligent and civilized fantasy, see. I was thinking about this the other day, after I hated the Game of Thrones tv show. What do I hate about fantasy? BAD fantasy, that's what. Which is unfair to the genre, because of course there's tons of good fantasy, just like any other genre. I mean I probably hate just as much literary fiction percentage-wise as I hate fantasy and sci-fi and romance and everything else.

So basically what I like is good writing and what I don't like is bad writing, which is so blindingly un-revelatory that I might need to shake my head sadly and look off into the middle distance for a while. Woe.

But the thing is, bad fantasy is extra bad, just like any bad genre fiction is extra bad, because of the very way it's bad: it relies on recycled genre conventions that are by their nature boring, repetitive, cliched, and interestingly enough, hatefully sexist. It's true! All boring genre cliches are hatefully sexist.

Go ahead, think of some that aren't. I'll wait. Dum de dum. La la la la la. Tweedle deedle dee.

Oh, I don't have to wait in real time. You can tell me later.

Well, yeah, so I am not a fan of hatefully sexist ANYTHING. And I mean they generally do it all sorts of ways. Men are blah blah this! Women are blah blah that! Relationships between them are blah blah and so forth! It's lazy, it's boring, and it's crap.

So anyway our heroine Robin McKinley does not write hateful sexist crap, nor does she write lazy boring conventions, so her type of fantasy is profoundly excellent and her characters are just wonderful. And she goes into really interesting questions in her work, like, oh, interspecies communication and understanding. It's the most wonderful thing. It's like A Mote In God's Eye, have you read that? True alienness to the point where it's hard to know what you're even looking at, in the book. Like some of the Ender books when they're not being pedantic or dull.

I find alienness one of the most fascinating subjects out there. Every time I think, "Oh, but we don't really interact with truly alien creatures," I find myself having a conversation with a loon (the duck kind) from a kayak or looking at someone's beloved hideous jangly purse or horrible high heeled shoes and I'm right back to the study of alienness. I have no idea what you people see in those horrific purses. Or those horrific shoes. Or American football. I will never understand it.

Maybe it's the very focus on division in those specific things? They're not designed to bring people together. They're designed to set them apart. Huh. That could be it.

Well, I'm a uniter, not a divider, though I'll be happiest over here in my hermitage while you all are united over there together. Man I LOVE my hermitage. Except that the deer ate my tiger lilies down to the ground. You bastards! I assume it was the deer. Something big with big teeth, not mousekies. I think I'll put a chickenwire fence around them tomorrow. I didn't even plant them, but I really like tiger lilies, so back off, ungulates. Go eat grass.

Tomorrow's going to be interesting. Maybe I'll get sent home for being all gross and coughy! I have the kind of cough that makes you push your plate away from you is what I'm saying. It's trying really hard to become bronchitis but I'm against that. No thank you! But it'll probably succeed by morning. And then if I can't fight it off and it starts really bringing me down physically I'll have to go to Walmart to the walk-in care and get antibiotics, or else to that nurse practitioner that I liked, not the awful one. But then they can renew my inhaler prescription and that is pure gain as far as I'm concerned.

I'm going to go write my book, y'all. How come I feel so much worse on the days building up to a sinus infection, eh? I don't get it. Now that I'm all gross and sick, I don't feel nearly as terrible. Of course I also slept 12 hours two nights in a row and that always makes me feel better. By Friday I'm just about perishing, even with eight hours a night.

Right! Bookery. I'm on it!


Saturday, April 23, 2011


Weird how powerful the KXEC effect still is on me. He's sort of my mighty angel on the shoulder, looking at my work and holding it to the highest standards without having to say a single word. Hurray! Love!

I've been at my desk (at home) all afternoon, working on Online Job, but now that's done and I have a couple more days off due to the week hiatus. Good timing for a grody sinus infection, seriously.

Heh heh, I tried to neti pot again but stopped after half a cup of water *disappeared* into my sinuses. Seriously. I was pouring and it wasn't reappearing. I think my alien physiology just does not allow for a neti pot. Yes, it's been draining back out over the last 18 hours, unpleasantly, but now we know the absolute best way to get an instant gigantic headache. Holy ow. Yeah, like sinus pressure only instant.

I'm not going to try that again. I'm sure it's great for you Earthlings but not for me.

Is it time to bake hot cross buns? Or cinnamon rolls? Or should I wait and do that tomorrow as a celebratory holiday food-making activity thing? They're much better fresh, I seem to recall, so I think I'll wait.

There's an excellent illustration of how to braid a four-strand challah in Joy of Cooking. It kind of bends my brain, though. I'm sure I could follow along while doing it, but just looking at it and trying to learn it gives me nothing to hang it on. Like I could learn 1, 4, 2, 3, or something, but not just an unnamed sequence of events with no logic that's apparent without doing the thing.

I think I'm going to try to convince my shoulder KXEC (Tim Gunn is on the other shoulder, tsking over my unkempt appearance) to work for writing also. Do you think I can get him to do it? He doesn't have to know anything about it, just keep on holding me to high standards. Remember when I took my wrecked brakes into his office to show him and he was all, "Am urban professional. I do not speak car," and it jolted me because in my mind, male authority figures know how to fix cars? I still think that's a very funny and fascinating moment. How can someone so awesome not know anything about the mechanics of cars? How can someone so awesome not know what a manifold is? It's absurd to think they would, though. Exactly!
Nobody needs to know what a manifold is. I'm sure Tim Gunn neither knows nor cares what a manifold is and will live long and prosper without such knowledge.

Not this. This. I love that it starts out with the Anglo-Saxon word roots for this automotive term. Which is basically the hot pipes that send exhaust from the engine to the exhaust system. Do not spill engine lubricants such as transmission fluid on a hot manifold! Much smoke occurs!

So anyway.

It keeps on snowing intermittently. We're getting some soft green grass now to go with the rusty orange brush and golden dead grass and gray and pale green lichen of the trees. That's a good thing because if I had to stare at any more GRAY and BROWN I was going to lose all of my remaining few marbles and go screaming ranting insane. Er. Insane-er.

I really need a dog. Dogs are all HERE AND NOW and when you start talking to your sinuses, they walk in and look at you like you're bonkers, and then bring a ball as if to say, "Occupational therapy? You seem like you need some."

I'm wearing the world's most awesome giraffe shirt, all mottled green with two lovely giraffe heads and a full moon behind them. If you're charitable it's all hipster irony but if you're realistic I just loved the giraffes and thought the shirt was hilarious. Full moon! Why? Why? Why? What made someone decide that what this giraffe shirt needed was a full moon? Is it a commentary on the three wolf moon shirts? Is a two giraffe moon shirt referential in complex ways? Or just totally nerdy? Or both?

No way, I found it online. Here. Scroll down. It's Flash so I can't link straight to it. YES, I am wearing this exact t-shirt right exactly now. Because when I saw it, I laughed so much that I embarrassed myself in a rural Walmart. Yay!

You know you want one so you too can resonate back and forth across the referential hipster/dork divide. Wear it with pride.

Friday, April 22, 2011


Is there a sea urchin stuck in the back of my throat? No? A pincushion? A dried thistle? An orange pomander with cloves stuck all over it? No and no? Then why does it feel like that?

I'm all spaced out and ailing, which is deadly boring, I know. But I marshaled to go out and get OJ and passover baking powder (sadly, no) so I could collapse effectively all weekend. Which I think sort of proves I'm not that sick yet or something? Eh? Dunno.

Also I got a little wee potted hyacinth for $3.33, because it's BLUE. Except it's purple, really. Not the grape kind of hyacinth, the real one. Except all I could think about was Ovid and whichever god falling in love with a beautiful boy. Those stories never end well.

Do you ever think that Doctor Who is an extended what's her name in the underworld story? Not Orpheus, the one who got abducted by Hades and caused the seasons. You know, her. She goes off to some strange unknown dangerous world and eventually comes back. Doctor Who, am I right? Persephone! That's her name.

I have that extremely terrible Doctor Who on pause, the one with Spaceship U.K. and Liz X and a whole story that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever at all in any way. I keep stopping it because of the ludicrosity but then I press play again because I forget. Which is some other myth entirely, possibly the one about the guy whose liver keeps growing back so the eagle can eat it again. What's his name? The one who stole fire from the gods. He has a brother with a similar name, different prefix. Epi... Prometheus! And Epimetheus? Yes.

Goldang it, I have no memory at all anymore. Your real time transcript above tells you why I had so much trouble teaching classes. It's not like when you can't remember Alan Rickman's name all of a sudden, or the name of that song by the freaking Eagles. It's like almost everything I've ever learned is now on a shelf that is almost too high to reach. Gargh!

Like, was Kavan Smith ever on Battlestar? He was, wasn't he? I'm sure he was. Amy Berg wrote something about him and mentioned the shows he was on and I was all, But! Stargate Atlantis, Major Lorne! And Battlestar. Yes! Wait. Battlestar? Yes? No? Wait.

I can't even clearly remember season four of Battlestar. I find that DEEPLY disturbing.

Yes, Kavan Smith was in one episode of Battlestar, "The Captain's Hand." I don't remember who he was or anything else. That's the one know, never mind. Maybe he was a Pegasus pilot or died or something. Everything having to do with Pegasus is completely upsetting to me in a totally PTSD kind of way. Really, I get all agitated. I get agitated by *stills* of Pegasus. Jeez. And Fat Lee, of course. Horrors! Though Fat Lee is hilarious in a meta kind of way.

If I were ever going to reinvent Battlestar, I might have gone with what I thought they were going to do in the first place: the ability to download and replicate people. Which changes everything, obviously! What they did was much more interesting in terms of character, meaning the Cylon characters and the human interactions with one of them not being reflected in others who were born before that one, but showing up in those born after. Inconsistently, though.

The used book sale rack in the grocery store had a book by one of my mom's two favorite authors, so I bought it for her, but I don't carry cashy money so I paid with three quarters, a dime, a nickel, and ten pennies. Which left me with one penny in my wallet. I think that's kind of awesome. Just because she never responded to my good news email at all is no reason not to get her a book she'd like, in near-mint condition, right?

Can I tell you about the earrings? They look like golden tops of towers, sparkly filigreed cones with the pointy side up, with a black faceted stone thing stuck in the long gothic prongs at the bottom. Except the stone thing is a black plastic thing but you can't really tell that. They look so fancy! I was in love with them instantly, having my own little festival of delight over them. And then someone I like told me she liked them very much, and when I told her how cheap they were and that they came from Target, she said they looked much fancier than that. Which tickled me utterly. Hurray! I love these earrings!

See, sometimes my dynamic and eventful brain world connects with the outside. Not very often, and only in tiny, tiny ways, but sometimes. Sometimes!

I've been looking at all the dogs. ALL the dogs. The dogs nearish to here and nearish to my sister's house, since she's in a much more metropolitan and therefore bedogged area. And that's what brought me to Big Fluffy Dogs dot com. Yes. It's true! Guess what kind of dogs they specialize in rescuing? Awesome!

I saw a bunch of dogs on Petfinder and that other site who I would have rushed out to adopt if they weren't in freaking Massachusetts on Easter weekend, which means the roads are utterly heinous. Even the little stretch of 95 I drive on every day was easily 600% busier. I can't imagine what the Mass Pike would be like right now. Brrrr, shiver.

Kitty is stretched out on his back on the quilt with his paws curled up. I met two puppies today who were less than half his size. That is one big cat. He can't be growing. Am I shrinking? What's going on here? I swear he's a yard long from his ears to the ends of his back paws and he's not even stretched full length. And that's not counting his tail. I think he might be breaking the laws of nature or something.

The empty dog cage is very creepy to me, even all comfy with the fleece bed I got for it snuggled inside. It's still a CAGE. A huge cage. I have a huge cage in my office now. It's all very freaky. I intend to acquire a life-changing beast large enough to require an enormous cage! I will need to put said beast in its cage because otherwise it will eat the house!

Well, that seems reasonable.

I have to be honest. (Well, finally!) The whole required domination thing about dog-having is bothering me. I dislike domination in all its forms. We've evolved past that, truly--culture is all about cooperation and equality and mutual support. It is. When there's dominance, that's a failure and a reversion. Secure people meeting secure people do not require asserting any form of dominance. I only ever feel the need to use it when someone is bullying me or failing to do their job, like, oh, someone refusing to help me in a store when that's their job. Know what I mean? And even then, if all goes as it should, you'd never need to do that. You'd never need to ask for the manager (dominance by proxy) or whatever.

I'm completely a dog person--don't tell the cat--but the fact with dogs is that you have to be the alpha or the dog will. There's no cooperative option. You can't opt out. You have to be the boss or the dog will be the boss. I would argue it's the same with toddlers but that's a different story, and a whole gigantic can of worms, so forget I said that. Anyway toddlers actively seek boundaries and use testing behavior to do that. Which come to think of it is exactly what dogs do. Oh, jeez.

So anyway, having to alpha Future Dog is bothering me in advance and having a gigantic over the top on the nose symbol of dominance like A HUGE CAGE in my office is giving me the heebie jeebies. Whereas a leash seems to fly under my radar. I will put a collar on you, and a leash! You will do what I say! No, get off the couch. I will speak to you purely in the imperative or in words of praise or censure! Your existence is as an adjunct to mine.

I have issues with this. I would even say that the issues spurred the writing of the book. My main character deals with this stuff all the time in major, life-altering ways, so of course I wrote her with dog trainer parents. Don't you think that must shape a person? Surely they raise kids like they raise pups.

It makes me think. It also makes me worry about teaching, which is exactly the same relationship as the dog trainer to the dogs. OH YES IT IS. But at least it's entered into voluntarily and results in the education of the dog? I mean, student? They always say that dogs really want to know where they are in the pack, just like they say toddlers are looking for where the boundaries are and use testing behavior to find them. I suppose college students are learning how to be adults or something? Are we just transmitting educated behavior, more so than education? Hard to say.

Well. I feel extremely terrible but this wicked sore throat (remember the sea urchin?) is going to keep me awake, isn't it? I tried for a nap but only achieved motionless horizontality. Woe. I'm hoping the OJ with healthful numbing agent additive will maybe knock me out. We'll see.

By the way, Online Job re-upped me for Tuesday so yay! Poverty averted! Thank goodness. That was a stressful couple of days, I tell you what. I know not to count on it but I mean, I'm not, not in the sense of making plans based on it. But the bills keep on coming inexorably. Ooh, actually one got exor-ed. The power bill dropped to less than half of the last one. Warmer weather! Yay! Okay, so warmer equals 40s and the occasional 50s, but I'll take it!

I probably won't take the plastic off the windows until June, though. Seriously. There is STILL SNOW out there under the trees behind the house. No joke.

Tell me what I should do for my birthday. I'm at a loss! My favorite is to have dinner with an awesome friend but that's not an option. Should I take the day off work? And do what? I have not the slightest clue! Bake myself a cake? Cook myself dinner? Read a book? Take a nap? Sew a quilt? At least this year I won't be in hideous pain and a narcotics fog like last year, a few days pre-surgery, though it did dull the non-ringing phone pain thing.

You know, if I have a dog by then, I will *be* at the party at all times. There is never a question about what to do or who's there or not there, because everyone in my family is already in the room. Yay! Dogs are awesome. I do adore Mr. Kitty, the gigantic wonderful creature, but he's not a dog.


Thursday, April 21, 2011

One more

SO TIRED. One more day and then I'm sleeping until I can't sleep any more.

Bones is on but it's all The Finder instead of Bones. Like there are tiny bits of Bones sprinkled here and there. It's bugging me a lot, even if the Finder guy is highly decorative. I can't remember what other annoying thing the annoying Finder trio reminds me of. That Grey's Anatomy spinoff, maybe? With the glibness. Stop being so damn flip and glib!

Though I do adore Michael Clarke Duncan. Drink! He was there with Marky Mark, just hanging out.

Who is Saffron Burrows? Is she a character from Absolutely Fabulous?

I went to the Humane Society. I wish I didn't have this weird reaction to those very short furred dogs, like: that's not my dog. Also to any pit bull mix and any doberman mix. Because there was an absolutely lovely year old pit bull doberman mix who was all wags and excitement and totally wanted to be my dog but I was like, aaaaaaiiiiieeeee, you are awesome but are not my dog, I am so sorry! See, if I could get over the short-haired thing, I'd have gotten three different dogs by now. Grrrrrr. (That is a direct quote in dog language.)

So anyway. I got out the dog crate and scrubbed it down. It's a fancy cage that folds all up puzzle-like! I couldn't figure it out at first and kept pushing and pulling at it like a puzzled monkey. How does thing work? Unh, unh. No, like, for a long time. Pull? Push? Unnnnnnh.

But then I evolved and totally got it. Next, cave paintings!

I would be asleep right now except this laundry is in the dryer.

Apparently a house in my town of 2300 or whatever burned down under suspicious circumstances. Holy crap! I wonder what happened? I have to look it up on the news I guess.

I'm operating on my last remaining moderately alert brain cells. You know what this feels like? Like day five of a cross-country drive in your Jeep with your cat and a trailer with all your stuff in it. That's what this feels like. TERRIBLE.

Also I might be totally sick, if the whole swollen up sore throat thing is anything to go by. I was not in the 30 below freezer today! Much! Just for a minute. Tomorrow, though...which is why I did laundry, so I'd have jeans, see. It's bloody cold in there. Knee-length skirts don't cut it so much.

Oh and I'm an official Goodreads author now, which just bewilders my cacciatore. One essay! And that other one in that Dutch comparative literature journal, which is not on there I am pretty sure! And okay I WROTE a bunch of stuff, she said in the perfect tense, but it's not published!

I keep having to use the imperative lately. Imperative is POWER. Have you used it lately? Try! See, I just did it again. Imagine how you feel when someone imperatives you. You do the math in your head. You think, Do I rank higher than this person? Do I do what they say, or do I get mad and push back? Here's how you know where you stand in the pecking order: whether you do it or not. Argh!

This book makes me think about all that stuff way too much. Bossy book! It says, "Write about this!" and I totally just do it! Man.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Drama is exhausting

Even good drama. Wait, especially good drama? Maybe so!

I have to go to bed half an hour ago. Hmm.

But, this! I love when I figure out something about a book 1/3 of the way through it, like I just did. I can't explain what exactly because that sucks the juice out of the story orange. And then you have a squeezed out shell. No good!

Here are some things I love today:

Werner Herzog on the radio, especially when Terry Gross was being weirdly baffling to him and doing stuff like not actually asking any questions, so that Werner Herzog was like, "Huh?" He has never really been on my radar before (I mistyped "radon" which he was not on either) but now I'm besmitten with hearts in eyes because he is CRAZY ABOUT THINGS, which is one of my very favorite attributes in a human being. It is! Being absolutely blindingly in love with stuff! I love that so much it makes me want to stand up in my kayak and sing!


That much!


I got one of those Google alerts for my name, which is 99% of the time someone doing good things in sports. Yes, almost always, which by the way is not me. It's those other people with my same name. They are a sporty group! I mentioned that to my friend D. and explained how that proves that Scottish people are highly athletic (naturally!) and she was like, "For example...?" and I said, "Well, look at Chariots of Fire! That guy was Scottish!" which TOTALLY proves my point.

And then later she was talking about this Scottish guy she knows who is so silent he pretty much never speaks at all, and I said, "Is he an athlete?" and she said, "....yes, actually he's a triathlete," and I was all, "AHA! QED!" and we fell about laughing over the phone line from eight states away. Yay!

I'm sure I can think of other Scottish athletes if I try. Besides those two and all of us with my same name. Like...and then there'

Oh right, so this time the Google alert also showed up with that essay I wrote in that book about Firefly that's on Goodreads! And I clicked on it and it said, "Are you the author? Fill this out!" and so I did and apparently if I qualify (or whatever) then I get to be a *Goodreads author* and have my own page and stuff. Which makes me inordinately excited! Yes! Oh my goodness!

I'm allowed to be a fan of that book, right? Because I like it. I mean I owned the first one before I ever dreamed of writing a thing for the second one and being in it.

Today I threatened to staple this boy's pants to his butt if he didn't get a belt. He says he has a belt but that he lost too much weight so it falls down. To which I say: I have a hole puncher on my Swiss Army Knife in my purse. I will put a new hole in your belt for you. It's that or the stapler.

Those are some stabby bits of imagery but rest assured I won't do either one. Except maybe the new hole in the belt thing.

Oh! Good drama. I got great news today, or rather a great thing happened that makes me happy and fractionally less po! But of course Online Job has taken a little break which makes me much more po than the less po accounts for. Net loss! But Online Job will be back. Tax time causes a dip in Online Job because of cash flow, just like Christmas bill paying time and August vacation time. It's true.

Most of all, happiness equals a good word count and figuring out part of the story thing. It's also a thing that goes from the character outward instead of toward the character inward, if that makes sense. The most interesting things about people are the things that go outward. What they care about, who they care about, what they do, where they go, what they make, even what they say. Things that go inward are vastly less interesting. What they eat, what they buy, what they get, who is looking toward them, who said what to them, what happens to them. Know what I mean? And this character was always fielding this and that, reactive, instead of going outward, active.

People! Verbs! Active!

Also, it hailed three times today. Couscous sized, Israeli couscous sized, and tapioca sized. Sports terminology and fruit is no use with the tiny hail!

Would you go for grapefruit or softball as a descriptor first? They're really the same size. Maybe it's a psychological test!

30 Rock was completely brilliant beyond their usual brilliant last week. I keep thinking of this excellent line that Tracy said: "Sean Penn wanted me to go to Haiti with him, but I couldn't stand the pain and suffering of a three hour flight with Sean Penn."

I feel like there's a classical rhetorical description of what just happened right there. Some relative of hysteron proteron. (*This.) Or that thing that a perfect line of dactylic hexameter does in Vergil or Homer, where all the parts are arranged in this one particular order that separates the nouns and adjectives and lays it all out just so. What's that called?

Blooming heck. I sure don't remember. I remember the bucolic diaeresis though, because it sounds like an ailment. Ah! I can't go! I have severe bucolic diaeresis! Juvenal was into it. It has to do with dividing up the feet of a line of poetry one particular way.

How to make a classicist happy should you ever have occasion to do such a thing:
1) ask them how to remember what a dactyl is. They will do this thing where they hold up their index finger and bend the shorter two phalanges over, and will show you the bones: long, short short. That is a dactyl, from the Greek word for finger. It's called a dactyl because of the bones of your finger. How cool is that?
2) get them to explain case endings, with illustrations from English. Joy!
3) ask them to recite some Homer or Vergil in the original. They will do so and become VERY happy.
4) supplementary: ask what the standard Greek dictionaries are called.

Happy classicists! Adorable!

As I'm writing about a classicist and college students, it's impossible not to think about my friend who went through all those classics courses with me who died right before his graduation, but I'd much rather think about us declaiming Homer and Vergil in the original to each other in the co-op kitchen with lots of wine that one night.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

What the what?

Ai, yuck. I just got done watching Game of Thrones, which I was really looking forward to due to SEAN BEAN you guys. Sean Bean!

Actually that was hilarious because they just made him look exactly like Boromir. Like, was anyone even a little embarrassed about that? Not that I'm not glad to have Boromir back, and Sean Bean is lovely and talented and was the best thing about the episode. But that is just freaky to do that.

Um. It was. Okay, I'll say: boring as hell and also misogynistic to a degree I haven't seen in anything since, oh, ever. Men are people and women are objects. And I mean, handed to warlords as property, that kind of thing. Constantly degraded and stripped naked and grabbed by the hair and forced onto all fours and mounted from behind. What on earth? I am just agog. Especially because others who have read the books say the books are NOT like that at all. They're, you know, equal. Balanced. Not horrific raging woman-hating stupidity.

Ahem. Boring was bad enough. Boring is a crime! There were all these identical brothers, and a bossy fat king who was a waste of Mark Addy, and lots of not-shocking gory violence, and most of all lots of people explaining everything that they already know to each other all the time. "As your brother, I..." "When we were seven, you..." Yes, it was gorgeous, and yes, there were lots of women with no shirts on if that's your kind of thing, and the sets were cool except when they were laughable, and the laced sleeves were good and medieval. Oh! I'm so mad about this show I can't even be fair about it. SHUT UP, show. GO AWAY.

So anyway. I guess that answers my question about whether to get HBO or just get the episodes from iTunes. Neither! Ha!

I spent yesterday watching a lot of Torchwood, so my good-tv-o-meter is well calibrated. Yay, Torchwood! Oh I love it so.

Hi! I am all sore and limpy! From heaving lots of heavy items around in a very cold place, yes, and from being on my feet all the livelong day instead of parked in my chair, but also from going to shoot baskets after work like a very good girl. It was so ridiculously fun! My knee is KILLING me, though. And I wore the knee brace most of the day, too.

The limp is so exaggerated now, due to all of the above (not including Game of Thrones) that it almost looks fake. But it isn't. Ow, I tell you. Fortunately it doesn't hurt unless I move it, which is probably diagnostic in some way, don't you think? It's not swollen or anything. It's a mechanical problem.

Jeebus, I just realized my birthday is coming up super fast. What, two weeks? I do not have the slightest plan! What should I do? Oh my!

I still haven't even solved the frosting issue. I can't figure a way to make frosting without confectioner's sugar, which is deeply verboten. Isn't it? I think so.

Okay, I tried baking biscuits with the baking soda/cream of tartar combo replacing the baking powder. And they rose perfectly! It worked great! They also didn't have that stinging bite, which I guess was the baking powder making me go ow.

What's it like not to have food be so hostile to you? Eh? I'm apparently allergic to lemons now, too. At least if I eat or drink fresh lemon juice from these particular lemons, I get an instant reaction. I even tried washing them in case something was on them. What is that all about? Maybe the little lemons are different somehow.

Am tired of this.

Anyway the biscuits were supremely good. I call it a win. I had biscuits and peas for dinner, which I know is weird but oh well. Mmm, peas. Oops. I have no plan for lunch tomorrow. Maybe I really will go to McDonald's and get a double cheeseburger, hold the bun. They don't wrap it in a lettuce leaf here like in L.A., I'm guessing, but still.

I could use a biscuit! Hey!

Or a lettuce leaf, if I had one.

So I read an interview with John Francis Daley confirming that he had to scramble and do all the interrogation scenes as Sweets that were written for Booth, but he didn't explain why. Maybe that was when it came out about how Boreanaz *allegedly* was incredibly disgusting to an extra and settled out of court rather than get the pants sued off him in an ugly public trial. Sued *back* off him. EW.

I am very close to done with that show, which is amazing given how much I liked it before. It's weird, all it takes is knowing that the male lead did this. Allegedly.


So anyway.

My face is burning up for whatever stupid allergicality reason, maybe the lemon juice in my chicken salad at lunch, or from being in the 30 below temps for ages, or else from playing basketball in the hot hot 5:00 p.m. Maine sun (um, no, though I did get all fuchsia as usual) or from some heretofore unknown cream of tartar allergy (don't be ridiculous, I hope) or from embarrassment over Game of Thrones being so hatey.

I'm trying to imagine a show being that hateful about, say, a particular race. Or sexual orientation. I just don't think it would happen. I am getting very very allergic to hate. So stop that right now, everyone everywhere. Okay!

*dusts off hands*

Especially you, Boreanaz. That kind of thing is nothing more than asserting dominance. Which, hello, is a huge sign of weakness and insecurity. Try for respect and equality. It's crazy but it just might work.

Sugar! Betty Fokker read the same article I did (hi Betty Fokker! you rock!) and is also trying to cut it out of her life. Jeez, it isn't like something I just really like, like cheese or kale or something. It's this major scary compulsion. Get off my back, sugar monkey! Not a term of endearment, though it sounds like one!

I put Truvia in my coffee, so that's okay, unless that's what I'm so allergic to today. And also agave nectar. Hippie! Hippie! Low glycemic index hippie! Mmmm, agave nectar. Wait, no. It's not sweet. You taste it and it's like a picture of sweet instead of actual sweet. Anyway I use them both every day with no problem, next! I was using Equal but got these horrible headaches every day I did, and no headache any day I didn't, so you do the math.

I wish I'd stayed sugar-free after I completely gave it up back in, ooh, 2009? In the house on the lake, when I worked with the Waynes. My that was poetic. Giving it up is super hard.  It's a lot easier to stay off it than get off it. Sugar, man!

I wonder how you bake without it? What do you use? How well does it work? Must do research. If I ever recover from today's epic physical challenges. Limp limp, ache ache.

This would be a really good time for an alcoholic beverage, if I could think of a workable one. I mean, I have vodka. But what with? The lemons are on the watch list and the Truvia is at work. Yawn.

Ice cubes and mint extract?

Frozen cranberries?

Mmm, in a lightweight smoothie with yogurt and raspberries.

With chocolate (wait...sugar) somehow. Some kind of hot chocolate peppermint schnappsy thing.

I am just brainstorming here. You realize there's no earthly way I'm getting off this couch for a beverage that would require that much work. I'm more at the level of a box of wine with a spigot on it. Glass optional.

Harness laziness for health! That's the Bootstrap way! Wait, is it? No, that would require massive bursts of hyperverbal enthusiasm with intermittent allergy attacks and moderate limping!

I might call a trauma day. There was emotional trauma, mild to moderate, and loss of important figures, and major physical exertion, and extreme cold. So basically it's exactly like my small aircraft crashed on a glacier and other members of my team were lost in the escape effort, in the manner of The Poseidon Adventure, and ultimately only I survived to tell the tale. Let's just say that's what happened today.

Given the plane crash I just survived, I think some light quilting and an early bedtime sound like an excellent idea. Thanks!

Monday, April 18, 2011


Hey, what's up? I'm all being a GROWN-UP, which turns out to be very time consuming and full of tedium. But then things seem to work out better, so hurray? Rah, rah. Waving of tiny flags.

I'm exhausted by gigantic drama again but who cares about that? I'm so glad not to be in it, I don't even want to think about it. La la la la la la la! I can't HEAR you!

Online Job has taken a holiday, though I'm still going to finish up the work of this iteration for a few more days. I'm trying to think how best to benefit from the down time in the evenings and weekends. Hmm! I think sending out of books is a good way. Let's do that!

I have fooked oop my knee exceedingly, possibly by biking up the mountain yesterday like a daft loon. Although it has felt a lot better since I got home tonight, hmmm. Maybe it's just stress that somehow focuses itself on my left knee. That can happen, right? It was dreadful all day and when I was in the store after work, buying essentials like yogurt, raspberries, yellow summer squash, and 50 cent paperbacks from the donation bookcase. They were brand new! And probably dreadful. They were some kind of imprint that just looks cheap and poorly edited even from the outside.

Judge a book? By its cover? Moi?

But it's true.

However, I also scored a new hardcover of the latest C.J. Cherryh, from a series I've never read because I can never get my mitts on the first one.

If I don't like any of these, I'll simply BookMooch them and turn them into gold thereby. I mean, other books.

Anyway a fooked oop knee is putting an extreme damper on my ability to exercise, gaaah! But then again I got a whole lot of exercise at Go There Job today. Which didn't help my knee either. Where is that knee brace? Must remember it tomorrow. Wearing it all day is not an option, however.

I seem to remember wearing it with short skirts at WB, huh. What did I do to my knee back then? Tragic urban hiking injury?

Someone said lately I was worth my weight in gold, and I was like, "That's a lot of gold!" and they were like, "..." Which I thought was hilarious. I love it when my intentionally dumb but purportedly funny comebacks totally fall flat. I would rather have a hilariously awkward situation than have someone laugh at my dumb joke. Is that because my meta-audience is infinitely more important to me than any mere earthly human audience? Does that make me a little scary? Maybe so!

But you're in it, so no complaints from you, sheesh.

I have this whole theory about how writing to the internet is exactly like praying, but I've been writing a lot about very weird religious experiences lately (and all through PhD land, come to think of it) so maybe don't worry about it. But I'm totally right. Yep.

I named the cranky campus chaplain after Hans Beimler. Sorry about that, Hans Beimler. No reflection on you. Maybe I'll name lots of characters after the DS9 writing staff! Better than members of Manchester United circa 2002, no?

Oh good golly, this article is amazing. And very distressing re: sugar, because I love the sugar, I do! But now I get to be all smug about going *mostly* paleo a few days before reading it, heh heh. We'll draw a veil over that spoonful of icing I ate last night in some kind of sugar nic fit. And anyway I got a massive allergic reaction from it, unless that was the nutritional yeast on my popcorn. Or all the garlic. WHO CAN SAY?

I don't know, it's just not that hard. Got a sugar craving? Have fruit. Done!

I just ate some melon for that very reason. You know, melon. The green kind. Does it have a name? Or is it the ur-melon? The melon by which all others must be judged, from which modifiers distance them? The kind of melon that looks like a cranium. THAT melon.


Before that I had chicken. And yogurt. Because I did not get it together to steam the dang kale, even though that takes about ONE SECOND. But then I was too full. Again, draw a veil over the whole melon-eating incident an hour later. Oh, sigh.

Being a grown-up is frelling hard. Oh but I made chicken salad for tomorrow's lunch out of the other half of the chicken I cooked.

There is not going to be time to watch Game of Thrones again tonight. Bastard grown-uppery! Grown-uppityness!

Since yesterday, and including today, I've been sitting at the other end of the couch. For no real reason! And then it occurred to me, since I'm now facing the bookcases, to put the little digital tv on a bookshelf and stick AppleTv next to it and watch Torchwood thus! And that's exactly what I did! It's kind of awesome, as long as I don't need to get to my books on medieval poetry (quick! a Sir Gawain emergency!) or Harry Potter. They share a shelf, okay? I don't know exactly why.

The cat has taken to sleeping under the couch in his new cave. He's always adopting new caves and living in them and then abandoning them for a new location. I guess that's cat instinct or something.

News flash: cats like chicken.

Well. I kind of have dread. And sadness. But it's okay, I guess. I have my awesome book! Where a whole lot more things need to happen in a whole lot more places than they've been happening so far. I got into this weird space of only writing a very few locations, which is unholy dullness and also, hello, EASILY REMEDIED.

Jeez, it's a book. You can be on top of the Eiffel Tower or in a submarine or floating in an isolation tank or getting a pedicure or skiing madly down a mountainside and getting caught up in an avalanche but somehow managing to flounder to the top and ride it all the way down. So get out of the dang house!

Oh! Ack! I started this book by otherwise awesome Gabrielle Zevin called The Hole We're In and it turned out to be one of those where she hates the main character! Actually she hates ALL of the three main characters so far. It's horrible! I shut it and put it away.

Dear writers, if you're going to hate someone, make them the villain, so we can hate them too. Otherwise it's awful trying to read it and be with the protagonist and see the world from that POV but be smirking and laughing at that person at the same time. We already have Sinclair Lewis. And wish we didn't. So give it up.

Plus, why are you writing about someone you hate? Why? I honestly don't understand that. You can only write so many books in your lifetime. Why marinate in hatred? Yucky.

Oh oh oh, that sugar is poison article is making me jumpy. You know I used to call it "white death," right? Also very scary is the giant sugar cravings. Nothing that makes me do irrational things like eat a spoonful of icing can possibly be good for me.

Ooh, I had all these ideas about being spoiled, too, and how spoiling someone is a total control method. Because think about someone who's spoiled. All they do is try to get other people to do stuff. Give me this, do that. They are 100% completely focused on controlling other people instead of doing what they want to do. Isn't that sick? Spoiling someone is a way to turn their focus completely on YOU. Gross!

But I also think that cravings are a kind of spoiling. Training yourself to want things and then get those wants filled. It's a great call and response system, and very satisfying, but then there you are with a spoiled self who can only think, "Want it!" "Got it!" "Want it!" "Got it!" Or alternatively, "Can't have it!" which just sets off "Want it!" all over again.

Crazy, huh? Icing. Brrrrr. Plus that heart-racing effect is no good at all. Also I feel quite sure that sugar makes me stupid. I think it makes me write like a grunting walrus. Unnnnnnh! Unnnnnnnnnnnnh! Okay, to a lesser degree, but it's absolutely true. I do not deal with sugar well at all! No indeed.

I got a good haircut last night. It's true. It's more bobbed than the previous bob. All I did was whack the grown-out lower part off and make it all less layeredy. That is my new favorite word. Layeredy. Must name a character that! Like Flaherty only Layeredy. Maybe not. Words you can't instantly hear are problematic, especially for names.

Fifteen minutes until grown-ups have to be horizontal, with no tv and no exercise due to cooking and washing up and also going to the store and hitting the judgy hippie store for bulk cream of tartar, which supposedly can be mixed with baking soda for ersatz baking powder. We shall see! Biscuits tomorrow, maybe. Equal parts trepidation and anticipation! Or possibly a one to four ratio.

Belvedere because of the Apollo Belvedere, of course, which shows up in the book but not as itself if that makes sense. (There is also a Lee Adama action figure in the book. Yep.) The way Apollo Belvedere is holding that towel up like that made me think irresistibly that it follows that famous scene from the first Lucy Lawless episode where Apollo nearly loses his towel. Do I have time for illustrations?

Apollo more or less with towel:

Apollo Belvedere:

See? Towel goes WHOOSH.

I think there's a statue of Starbuck smirking somewhere behind the whooshed Apollo Belvedere towel.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

I know, but!

I know, ten o'clock rule, but! I mean! I woke up at quarter after one! So maybe just for today. Tomorrow the early to bed begins in earnest, though. For real.

I feel like looking up human pre-history to find a proper name for that particular time when animal husbandry was beginning enough that people would have had Greek yogurt to go with their paleo diets, know what I mean? Because hello, Greek yogurt! You can pry it from my nice warm post-historic hands. Except you can't because I have a fierce grip on that yogurt fez and I might bop you on the head with my spoon if you try. Bop!

Also biscuits. Biscuits! And butter! Mmmmmmm, biscuits and butter. If it wasn't so late, I'd make some right now. Yum!

The paleo people are total loons, we know this. Any food fanaticism that's that vehement has some worrisome cracks in its collective brainbox. But they have the right idea, even if they take it way too far. The fact is you just feel enormously better living on vegetables and fruit and some meat, chicken in my case, and of course Fritos. I kid! Well, no. I don't kid. I ate Fritos. But the point is, on top of vegetables and chicken.

Right. I never in one million years imagined that avoiding grains and yeast would make me feel like one million bucks. Yet so it is.

Hey! I got my appointed tasks done today, for which, woohoo! Tomorrow is cleaning, which never takes as long as I think, and sewing of things. And other fun activities as I see fit! Like, maybe I want to dig the garden! Or go for a walk up the mountain that is not Mt. Hollywood! I've still never walked all the way up. Crazy, man!

I probably will not do that due to the loose chunk of whatever inside my left knee that moves around and sometimes is fine and other times, like halfway through a walk, decides to be between two things it should not be between. Which makes me scream and limp and nearly fall over.

Tricky. Tricky knee. It's like knee roulette with every step. I prefer to be in charge of my limbs and joints, thank you very much.

I still need to cut my hair tonight but that will necessitate yet another shower, though a brief one. I don't know, am I up for that? Maybe. I'm all stretchy and tired after kickboxing and whatnot. And kitty sat on my lap and got quilt snuggles for ages after my shower. I was writing and he was hindering the best way he knew how. Very effective!

I had to write this awesome scene where someone was like, "I am very smitten! Yet angry! Because you are not being as awesome as I think you are in the way that I think you ought to be!" And the other person was like, "I too am smitten! And also angry! Because you have decided things are about me which are not true and getting angry because of that, which is nuts! And I'm busy having my own major drama here so back off with your manufactured emotional manipulation! Also I'm having religion, blasphemer!" And then they have to fight it out, which is hard, because who can be rational about things that are crazy AND insane, if that makes sense.

My favorite is the thing about being angry with someone for not being awesome the way he thought she was. Which is so boy! I will exact narrative vengeance, have no fear.

Oh, I was kickboxing and thinking about Alison Bechdel writing about the Bechdel Test and women as subjects. Because 99% of anti-feminist claptrap is making women into objects and not subjects. BUT as we discussed with Tiffany Van Gogh, women turn around and do it to themselves because that's how they see women culturally. Self-inflicted oppression is the worst kind because it's harder to punch yourself in the nose for it.

In other words, men see women as objects, and so women see women as objects, including themselves, which causes self-loathing and I would even say psychotic behavior. How can you compare your own self to some imaginary version of it and find it lacking? That is crazytown right there. Your own self is FINE.

Imagine an antelope going, "Oh, my antlers aren't quite right for how antlers are supposed to look. I'm going to self-mutilate and/or die of misery." What? You are fine. I am positive.

So here's Dr. Bootstrap's brief guide to regaining your status as subject:

Put yourself in the subject of every sentence. Grammar is destiny! I want, I do, I simmer, I choose, I make, I sew, I sandblast, I like. It's partly because I've been reading so much YA that this is on my mind. Girls in YA do not see themselves as people with power. If X girl likes a boy, she thinks, "I wonder if that boy likes me?" She does not think, "I like X boy! I want him! I will go get the boy!"

Rephrase everything in your life so that you're the one doing the thing. Maybe you say, "I am applying for jobs." "I am looking for a job I like." "I'm trying to find a good match."

Own whatever it is. I hear women nonstop talking about events in their lives as happening to them, not as if they're the ones who are choosing, driving, determining things. Things happen, sure, but VERB IT UP so that you're the one who's doing the thing. Tornado coming through town? "I'm organizing supplies and moving into a tornado shelter." YOU are the one DOING THE THING.

This is what happens when I think about Alison Bechdel and freaking Stargate in the same mental breath. Stargate is incapable of writing women as subjects. Women in all Stargate iterations are objects. They exist in relation to the men, not as entities unto themselves. The closest any of them came to full subjecthood was Samantha Carter and she got reduced to pining after alpha male guy. Boring!

Once you start noticing this it's impossible to ignore it. Subjects consider what they do and what they want and where they're going next. Objects think about how they're seen and who is looking at them and who wants them and what will happen to them. I know this is feminism 101 or possibly even the refresher course you take before 101, but it's worth articulating over and over and over.

If you think of yourself as an object in the grammatical sense (but also in terms of being a thing) then of course you're going to get wrapped up in rage and fury against the thing-ness, the status of yourself as thing, and against the externals that are the focus of being a thing.

Try this one: shut your eyes. That's you. Not what anyone sees, or how your left knee feels, or what your job is or whether you have a giraffe on your shirt. Everything else is object status. What's going on when you have your eyes shut, what you want and what you wish for and want to do, that's you as subject. If you're a subject in daily life, then eyes open or shut, it's all the same. You aren't worrying about who sees you and how you look and what will happen to you, because you're in charge. WHICH YOU ARE. That's the secret. You ARE in charge. People can just control you better and get you to give up your money and power if they convince you that you're not. Hate!

Fortunately, we're not grammar, so we don't have to have subjects and objects. We can all be subjects. That's called equality.

If you only think of yourself in terms of being acted on, you're using passive voice. Active! Active! Active!

Do you know what else makes a subject? My giant shirt. I have always worn loose, comfortable clothes, which makes idiots say things like, "You should wear more fitted clothes to show off your shape!" And then I punch them in the nose. Because when you're uncomfortable and worrying about how you appear all the time, or thinking about how you look (positive or negative) or in any way focused on how people are seeing you, you're not running your own life. I don't ever want to be thinking about how to manage other people's perceptions of me. I'm doing MY thing and I'm comfortable and I like this great big shirt just fine. So frak off.

It's unbelievable to me the millions of ways that people like to take away your confidence and power and turn it into catering to some imaginary audience that you have to please. "Stop being comfortable! You have to be this particular kind of pretty instead! Even if no one is looking!" Kindly go jump in the nearest lake, objectivizing fascists. Where I will float in my giant shirt and you will sink to the bottom and drown, so nyah.

There's a mean friend book in the future where all of this will get brought in. But I am spending a lot of quality time with my current beloved book and we are very happy together. Book! ME + BOOK 4EVA

Friday, April 15, 2011

Oy crikey!

Such a stressful day! Yet fun. It was fun except for the horribly stressful parts. And the rage! I don't like having to get mad, even legitimately mad like that, even when I'm totally supposed to get mad. Because then with the hands shaking and the anxiety meds and the meta-irritation where I get mad at someone for making me mad. Bonus!

So anyway that might be why when I changed into workout clothes, I immediately crawled into bed and slept four hours. MAYBE. After three cups of coffee, so yeah, could be related.

But a drastic horrible crisis was averted and that's the main thing, isn't it? I think so too.

In other news, I mailed my state taxes and then realized later you're supposed to put those W2 thingies in with them. Whoops. I normally do it online. Online you don't have to submit those things. You stick them in the folder in the filing cabinet. I filed online but then I forget why but I took the mail-it-in option, probably to save money, which I will now pay anyway in some sort of fee, no doubt.

Fortunately I still have time to screw up my federal taxes tomorrow. Fun times!

There's some sort of holiday in D.C. today so federal taxes got moved to Monday, which is a holiday in Maine and Massachusetts only: Patriots Day. Patriots Who Can't Punctuate Day.

I'm pretty out of it due to the stress and coffee and napping. Oh and basketball interruptus. I went to play after work but the courts were full of KIDS playing SPORTS and being all HEALTHY and wholesome and getting fresh air and stuff. Gaaaaah! So I couldn't! Which is as it should be, except I've been feeling like shooting baskets lately, what can you do?

My tv likes for me to watch baseball, did you know? At least it's stopped changing to the Weather Channel every time I turn it off. That was weird. Oh, I was going to say it's like the ghost of some old person sits on the couch and watches tv all day but that's a little too freaky to contemplate, shhhhh. Upshot: lots of Red Sox games in my house even though I could not possibly care less about the Red Sox. Look, they're playing Toronto. You get my vote, Toronto! Also, Toronto is winning.

I was explaining why my only very tiny baseball affiliation is the Dodgers, because of a) proximity, b) I went to see them play, c) Mr. Mia Hamm, and d) BLUE, and then person I was talking to said, "Well, those are some very good reasons to like a team." Ha!

That said, I like the red red red red shirts of the Red Sox. I'm a sucker for a really good solid primary color. Also the logo of the little socks is cute. Their hats are blue with just this little pair of socks on the front as their logo. That is completely adorable.

Aw, the chupacabra Bones wasn't so great. It was nice to see the park again, though. That spot! Right there! I know that spot! It's one of the excellent side benefits of the show.

But otherwise it was a weak episode. The thing with Vincent was just annoying and has never been set up at all, so it was implausible and absurd. For instance, we only heard that he went off the rails between seasons, but we've never seen the slightest indication that he was the sort of person who'd tell revolting sexual lies about everyone he worked with. That's not cute or funny. That's disgusting and hateful and really damaged. It's not something you'd just laugh off. It would get you fired or at least seriously disliked.

Ha ha, sexual harassment! Defamation of character! Telling your professional co-workers career-damaging lies about you! Fun!

I could really use some allergen-free chocolate chip cookies about now. Do you even know the culinary engineering that would have to go into such a thing? Chocolate chips? Jeez.

But then! Brennan was completely off key, Booth looked ill, the chemistry between them is apparently gone forever, Booth didn't do his interrogation job and Sweets took it over, and the last line of the show was a completely ham-handed attempt to connect the theme to their relationship and fell utterly flat. Ugh! Ew! Bad episode.

Maybe Boreanaz was really sick and JFD took over his scenes. He really did look terrible.

Oh well! Can't hit 'em all out of the park. The park that it was very nice to see. Funny to remember that burning skin feeling so vividly. Did I tell you the theory my sister the chemist had for that? NOx and SOx in the smoggy air form weak nitric and sulfuric acid when they react with the moisture on sweating skin. Which probably wouldn't bother anyone who wasn't already in allergic high alert. But one of those vivid sense memories from climbing Mt. Hollywood was the skin on my face burning in the shade.

What a day, man. I am so glad to be home tomorrow and Sunday, just doing Online Job and sewing skirts or whatever. Making the quilts! Writing the books! Snuggling Mr. Kitty! Sleeping a LOT! Buying cream of tartar to use to make baking powder that doesn't have cornstarch in it! Unless I can find the cornstarch-free Passover kind.

I might--though I know this sounds crazy--go ride my bike. I nearly did today until I remembered it was 35 degrees out and I'd freeze. It was such a gorgeous day! Except it's supposed to SNOW tonight or tomorrow. Gaaaaah!

Right, book time. I'm on it.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Raspberries and washing all day then sleeted a new book.

All 100% real generated by that same site. 

Thanks for the air filter. But which one? WHICH ONE? You're having fondue, right? Whoaaaaa!

What about ten others but otherwise: awesome! Mmm, falafel! Also my brain. I reinvented Belgian cuisine!

I'm gonna need a barking dog. Apparently two octaves. In my mind. I need a mouse.

Mmmm, garlicky hummus. This should keep the icebox and dry, hence the best. No, really. Very productive!

U2 is bluish purplish greenish brownish stripey blurs! My goodness, you were in my favorite Bones.

Lalalalalalalalalalalalala! pretending it's not surprising. But must go crank up two simultaneous cups of?

Wildlife sightings: a cake, making me feel like that's totally fine. Nuclear plants shut down the compost?

I could happen! Yay for the week. Yay, tv fascinating. That is interfering with *science*, see.

Marti Noxon wrote my laptop and cleaned out the hell out the tv gave me in a neighbor walking by Virginia.

Okay, back on my head. Actually that's kind of a whole mountain is completely thriving & a classics prof?

Just reached back on high for that hurt, ow. Raspberries and washing all day then sleeted a new book.

I went out of a cemetery full of icing? I repeat, awesome. And can thank/blame/appreciate her. Yay!

I have to make vit. D. Why do you think a whole mountain is so very hot chocolate from not sure what?

Home sick with a Klingon opera right about now. Another episode just in my chicken and toppled stones.

Power's out. Awesome. Midnight in the eternal gigantic 2000 piece Van Gogh Starry Night puzzle.

Snow every day or a Scottish epic hero's name! Snow every day long. Aaaah!

Operation Righteous Cowboy Lightning is ungodly awesome. And now I like this year?

Ooh, I would be 40+ degrees the quiche-makers. I feel like rumbledethumps and the house. Move fast!

Supermoon! I have eaten the soccas furiously now. Another episode just came on.

Cascade clusterfrak. Careful or not. Misery Inc. loves our man Paul Campbell, Billy from the bird feeder.

Operation Righteous Cowboy Lightning is your celebratory fondue! You're having fondue, right? Whoaaaaa!

Power's out. Awesome. Midnight in the Humane Society and the moral? Because that's enough!

Have you will be a better place. Nobody told me Marti Noxon wrote my cardigan. But melting fast!

Yay! — Chance of Irish names and lip balm. Bring two huge eyes. Oh yeah, Maureen Johnson's books!

You put pennies into the bird feeder. It's so much! Is Reiko a 45 lb raccoon.

I appreciate that could really want cake. Mmm, cake. Only possible solution: BAKE MORE CAKE. Yum!

I get done. So! Much! Rewriting! Yaaaaaaay! I'm going to write my favorite rant!

Eight bells oh man!

Late late late! So much left to do and so little time! Aaaaaah!

However I'm all full of lovely biscuits and kale. I've exercised like a mad thing and had a shower. I baked a sweet potato for lunch tomorrow. I still oughta wash the dishes. And I really *want* to sew things. But book comes first, oh book!

I've been avoiding the news lately because of how awful American politics is getting, so much worse all the time. Unbearable really.

Did you just see Christopher Cousins in a Miracle Grow ad? Whoa! Oh he seems so very very nice!

I was imagining some completely non-specific tv show with Beth Grant as the grandmother and Paul Campbell as her grandson, so now if you put Christopher Cousins in there as the dad/son I think I would watch that no matter what the rest of the specifics were. Love! I like NICE. It's true. Riley, not Spike. Yep. Crichton!

So anyway.

Nice! Biscuits! Kale! I'm still giggling over that fake Twitter aggregate predictor thing and how accurate and yet absurd it was. Imagine thinking that I often write one word exclamations! Daft! Madness! Pshaw!

So I have to remember A Few Things:

1. get a new inhaler from the cupboard in the bathroom because this one is essentially OUT
2. pick out clothes for morning
3. take vitamin D/calcium
4. get Leverage from Netflix. I think I would really like that show.
5. drink some goldang water before it gets too late, daft loon
6. turn off Bones even if it's that awesome Santa bomber Christmas episode (anyway the part where Booth has a perfect acromion is past already)

Kickboxing makes me go around trying to stretch/crack my neck in a highly alarming fashion. Often it makes other people tilt their heads way to the side, too, which makes everyone laugh. I LOVE how it feels to get all tired and stretched out. I thought I'd be all sore and weepy but in fact NO! Glorious! I felt great until like, oh, 10:00 this morning, when everything stiffened up again and I had to get up and run around the halls until I got moderately re-limbered.

There were all these ducks in the pond. I really really really wanted to go paddle around with them! In a kayak, I mean. But then I think about stepping into the water to get in and out of the kayak. The lake that feeds the pond via dam is still completely iced over. I think kayaking would be a very very cold activity. But I waaaaaaanna!!!

However, basketball...ooh! AH! That's the other thing not to forget on that list! Get the basketball out, pump it up, and put it in the car. Hup hup! Now now now! Okay, I'm going. And then I have that book in my sights, bunnies. BOOK.

Predictive Twitter mocks you

The above site generates tweets based on your prior ones. WAY TOO FUN.

Migraine, now? Ow. I can't hear you! I got nervous at me my view. I caught this whole lot of thing!

I think so! I love this and greek yogurt for that one, though. I beat the quiche-makers.

The bad sign? Getting up there due to make a new book. I know!!! Daydreaming about Mellie? I know!!!

That one guy back to the 938,245 people who I have to success, I'm going to write, RUN!

I have to go go! It's digging in the weak! I love the book. All this is!

Cascade clusterfrak. Careful or up up to write a dog, like Post Secret! She's a synopsis except in there!

Dang, I never know you certainly are barred owl mating call for the window and cleaned out back.

I betcha I have to leave the meetings short tomorrow. : P So often, that's totally fine.

I got my Apollo action figure's feet to some skirts and going, Yay, I went out back.

I'm positive. Work work work work. Outlines! Quick! Watch the dish. Go read it!
I'm in! Sleep is not up yet. The kitty in the raccoon looked at using a new bird.

I see a walk again! I have a barking dog. Apparently there's no one worried that one. Yay! No snow!

Kale! I made two octaves. In my head. Actually that's it! Weird but sleeping all winter. Dude!

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Purple quilt, baseball, aerobicicity

Really I need to hit the showers, but I have words. Words! Wei! I need to look that up.

First of all, cemeteries are awesome places to go for walks. There are a lot of dead people, it's true, but they're quiet and out of sight. And you get to zoom around thinking how great it is to be alive and how lucky you are to be mobile and living in a house and with a furry cat and things like that. Having a car! So awesome! And so on.

It's great for perspective and things to look at, like the guy who married two different Bridgets sequentially, both from Galway. It was strange. Was he like, "Oh, my Bridget has perished, send me another"? One headstone flanked by two that both said Bridget in big letters. It's eye-catching.

So that was fun, except the whole time I'm imagining the dead people going, "You could be anywhere in the whole world and you're HERE?"

Cemeteries are gorgeous. And old. And lack many unpleasant things like traffic and thuggery and second-hand television noise and tat. I enjoyed it very much. And this is an old, old town, which means there are lots of cemeteries to explore. That one over by the hospital is excellent, must go back there!

What else? Oh! Yesterday I took the purple quilt in to Cancer Care but the sister-in-law had gone home early and wasn't there. So I gave it to the front desk ladies who were very moved and stuff and we got talking about losing our dads to pancreatic cancer and she said she'd make sure the quilt got to someone who needed it so it would make them feel better. They were really super nice. And giving that quilt to them was a glorious experience. I mean it. That rocked.

Time to make more quilts! These are lap quilts, not super huge or anything. They practically make themselves, when you don't get stuck for dumb reasons on things that shouldn't be a problem. Heh heh.

Yesterday after Cancer Care I came home and lolled a bit and laundered my new very cheap tank tops from Walmart and cooked food and ate food and washed dishes and then it got INSANELY LATE and I read an amazing thing for my friend and wrote up all this stuff about it that was not particularly coherent due to the exhaustion, and probably wasn't useful at all, but hopefully didn't make that person mad at me or anything, yoicks!

Today after the exciting cemetery walk I came home and decided to rake all the plowed-up dirt and rocks off the lawn. And then spread all these wildflower seeds on the raked up area, since it was all raked up (what with the raking) and had lots of loose fresh dirt and all. And the grass had pretty much croaked. So we'll see!

It is raining on the Red Sox. That means it'll be raining here soon. Unless they're away. How do you tell?

I am not watching baseball, but I like to have it on in the background. That sound is viscerally soothing in a really major way for me. Strange, huh? Or maybe not given that I grew up with it in the background. It means: everyone's here, everything's all right.

After the yard-raking and rock-moving, I decided to do kickboxing aerobics, naturally. Uh. Yeah, I have not done that for ages. I'm probably more surprised than you are.

This is adorable, actually. One guy started walking a whole lot every day, miles and miles, and has lost 4-5 lbs a week since January. It's been pretty dramatic to watch and it's the main topic of conversation around the shop. But the other effect is that everyone is exercising and eating really well and stuff like that. I already eat really well--it's true--but was a complete potato, but now the potato is off the...potato shelf? Where do you keep potatoes? Out of the crisper and on the road!

So I'm going to be crying later but I still think it's good to do all this. Plus think of the possibilities! Stick bike in the car and go riding after work! Maybe out in the City Forest! Put kayak on car and jump in Field's Pond on the way home!

I didn't get to write my book last night due to Doing Too Much. AND I ended up staying up way too late. That sucks! It's quarter to 9 now. I can have a shower and write book and still get to bed reasonably on time and get some sleeeeeeeep. That's two very short nights in a row. Oof.

I can't believe I did kickboxing aerobics, man. That's so crazy. I love that workout though. It makes me laugh. Maybe there's some dance thing in the dvd pack, with bizarre entities like Yogacize (what?) and who knows what all else. I physically can't move the way they want me to half the time, plus I don't have the language or whatever. The physical language. Look, I've spent about six or eight months having a lot of trouble even *walking* reliably, so it's going to take some time to come back. And effort. Doing it is a great way to start.

Next thing to figure out: whether capri pants are a) okay under skirts, b) are okay with just big shirts, c) require dressy shoes, and if so which ones, or d) can take weird pseudo bowling shoes and Chinese slippers and other esoteric footwear from my eclectic collection.

The urge to sew skirts is so frelling powerful, it's amazing I haven't done it yet. From which you may deduce my big love for my book. Love!

Also I'm having springy notions to sew Brookeian skirts! Big yellow flowers! Amazing prints! Bright things! Yes! These are all very good ideas.

One last thing: there are designated colors for those ribbons for each kind of cancer, did you know? Well guess what color pancreatic cancer's ribbon is? Purple! I know! We were kind of agog when we realized I'd done exactly the right thing by accident. Yay! Look out, you guys, more Cancer Care quilts are coming.