little_tristan: (Rat)
Mark wanted to get up at work time so we'd be tired enough to go to bed early and get up on time tomorrow. It worked. I'm really tired. Being out of bed has its perks, though. Mark's washing the bedding. And yesterday I had my first shower in two weeks. Being clean is fun.

My shoulder hurts but that's not Mark's fault. Murphy slept on it funny. I don't much mind. It's better than not being slept on at all. How do people sleep without furry creatures being furry all over them? I used to know but I've forgotten.

I've decided to tweet DJ Qualls after every Legit ep, just in case they're factoring in viewer responses in deciding whether or not to renew it for next season. He didn't tweet back this week, but he did favorite it. Maybe it's a good tweet to show the network.

Still trying to sort out my feelings about this Michelle Shocked thing. I've admired her for so long, as a person and a musician, and now she's come out as a born again homophobe. One of the things I always admired in her music was the blend of modern life and old style Christianity. Of course I also kind of assumed she was gay. Nothing I've read about her, or in her newsletters, implied otherwise. But here she is with her hate the sin, love the sinner rhetoric, and we're in the end times because gays are getting married.

Anchorage was always one of my favorite songs. It reminds me of my dad. Now it's probably always going to remind me of outdated hate.

The rest of my day is all paper work. Yesterday we got five pieces of mail. One of them wasn't from Kaiser. We're trying to get on their financial aid program to help pay Mark's hospital bill. It only covers his expenses at their hospital, which aren't too bad, but we need every penny to pay what they won't cover at ours.

And I'm late for paying bill, just 'cause of the zombie state. Also, I have an appointment to do our taxes next week, and while I have all the stuff, it's nowhere near in order. I hate tax time. I never know going in if we'll get a refund or have to pay more. And my accountant goes to what used to be my church and is always asking when I'm coming back. I just can't sit there in her office full of angels and explain that I'm not. It's a very stressful event all around.

But good to have over. All the H&R Block and Turbo Tax ads on tv have been wigging me out since January.

Yet I remembered just now that I haven't done Russell's yet. I use Turbo Tax online for that, but they didn't send the eight or nine email reminders that I usually get. Hope that's not going to be a problem.

I'll find out soon. First Russell and I have to go to the store and hunt up food that Mark will eat.
little_tristan: (Puppy Upside Down Willow)
But it could have been worse. Long version of the story: The other day I was out on the front porch smoking (because I don't allow it in the house, except in Mark's man-cave office). I was gone 5-10 minutes, and when I came back in, the arch-nemesis was in the kitchen/dining room doorway beating Willow with his cane. I started screaming at him, telling him for the millionth time that that kind of behavior is just making things worse (he tries to close the half door by waving his cane around in the dining room (her territory) and hooking the door to pull it shut, which she also hates) and he went off me. There was a lot of shrieking about how I'M the one making it worse (now?) by not having trained her better from the beginning, and it's all my fault that she's a vicious bitch who deserves to die.

Sadly, Steve was out on the side steps having his own cigarette and telephone break (he likes privacy when he talks to his friends, which is totally his right) so he missed the whole thing. I took Will into my room and put up the baby gate, which she's terrified of because she hates inanimate objects that move when she touches them, and stayed in there crying like a fool until Steve came and found us. I told him what happened and explained that it's so awful because "Willow is our puppy of life and hope. Everyone died last year and Willow is the only good thing that came out of that whole God-awful mess (well, and you, of course)." Which made him go all shy and adorable, and eventually got me a hug. He said he couldn't talk to the a-n about it because it's not his place, but he would be willing to talk to the boys about the effect it's having on me (near hysteria), because that's unacceptable. I asked him not to because they know what the problem is and told me to handle it. And venting to Steve did make me feel better.

The next day, I found Doc's old Gentle Leader out in the shop and put it on Willow. She now wears in all day, until the boys come home at least, so I can keep her on a leash and not keep wrecking my arm like I was doing with the collar leash. She does pretty well with it and is with either me or Steve at all times, so she's safe. I also wrote the a-n a lengthy and rather hostile letter telling him she won't be running loose so he can just back the fuck off and leave her the fuck alone.
You can read it here if you want. )

Which brings me to my elbow. This morning when the boys left, I decided to play with Will for a while before putting the halter on. I was throwing her rubber bone and she was bringing it back, having a really great time. Right up until the fourth throw, when she brought it to me and then started playing keep away. I'd reach for it and she'd lower her head or drop it altogether, then hold it up and lower it when I reached again. It was on the third reach that I suddenly lost my balance and remembered as I fell that I hadn't put my seatbelt on. It's such an automatic action, the minute I'm dressed and sitting down I buckle up, but I totally forgot today.

Luckily Willow didn't know what was happening (is she coming down here to play with me?!?), so I landed pretty squarely on her with the right side of my body. This is good because my right shoulder is already nine kinds of fucked, so I rolled off her and landed on my left side. It was loud and scary and I hit my head. I also left my phone in its pocket on my chair, and since I can't sit up at all, it may as well have been on the roof with a dead battery. This being ten (TEN!) minutes after the boys left, and Steve being in the habit of sleeping til seven or eight, I had to make a LOT of noise to wake him up. It took about half an hour of shouting and other things (the third thing he said, after "What happened?" and "Are you okay?" was "Where did the video tapes come from?" My answer? "It was all I could reach and I was pounding them on the floor.") but he very promptly rescued me. He's a small man, maybe 5'6" and definitely weighs less than me, and has a sore back, but he refused to call the fire department for help and did an astounding job of picking up my enormous ass and getting it back into my chair. I gave him a Vicodin after and he said it helped.

So it was kind of my lucky day, even though my left elbow and knee are beautifully bruised. But don't worry, Willow is fine.
little_tristan: (Catloaf mini)
In a weird kind of way. Shortly after I became obsessed with staring out the front window, as I often do in the senseless hope that Officer Sheets will come back and tell me it was all a big mistake, Steve realized that he had pressing business somewhere outside and went for a walk. He does that a couple times a day, probably to get a break from things like this. I was crying when he left and still at it when he came back a couple hours later, which must have been weird (in spite of the warnings). In fact, I ended up calling him back because it was way out of hand by then. The whole episode ended with me chewing some Xanax and curling up under the big blanket on the sofa while we ridiculed Air Force One. Between that and the odd hug, we got through it and I was feeling much better by the time the boys got home. Although altering my med times is probably why it's a quarter past three and I haven't been to sleep yet. )
little_tristan: (BtVS Spike Misery)
Yesterday was all about banking. I had to go to three banks--mine, where I set up Mom's estate account, and the two she used where I closed her accounts--but it got all complicated and I ended up making 7 stops altogether. And at one of the banks they were doing construction and had ripped up the entire sidewalk between the curb cut and the door so I couldn't get in. But (this is the best news I have) Bruder was well enough to drive, yet not quite ready to go back to work, so I had a ride. (My new wheelchair came with run down batteries so I can't go more than 10 blocks from home alone. At least not if I want to get back. They're bringing me new batteries next Friday.) Anyway, we ended up conducting business in the parking lot with the teller running back and forth with the paperwork. She was really nice about it, and gave me one of their new account promotional things as a please-don't-sue-us gift. I can't use it myself, but Cousin H will love it.:)
Quite possibly you should all stop reading now )
little_tristan: (BtVS Spike Sod Off)
It actually makes the opossum thing look pretty good, I think. The story goes back years and years, to when I went to a state agency that helps disabled people find jobs. They gave me a caseworker, D, who got me the interview that led to my only "real" job. We stayed in touch until D moved to the other side of the state. Then I kind of forgot about him until two or three years ago, when he moved into a house up the street and a couple blocks over from me. I ran into him once and decided not to walk down that street anymore. Then, a couple days ago, I ran into him again on a street that I always use, since it has the best curb cuts. We talked for a bit and, since I'm an inherently honest (read: stupid) person, I gave him my real phone number when he asked. Because, you know, old friend.
Click here to find out how stupid I really am... )
little_tristan: (Kitten Interwebs)
It's not easy. LJ is basically fandom for me, and fandom is harder than it needs to be, what with everyone having their own perceptions and all. I do wish people would stop being different from me. I've tried not being different from them, but that didn't work, so now it's their turn. Yes, I know. I'm being unreasonable again. Oh, fandom and logic. When will you meet?

I'm watching The Young Riders, which was one of my favorite shows 20 years ago. I think they intended for Ty Miller's character, The Kid, to be the star. But he's such an incredible tool, he makes me insane. Even when it was first on, I waited through every episode for someone to shoot him or beat him to death or something, but it never happened. And he got the girl in the end. She was worth ten of him, but that seems to be how it goes. Anyway, it was totally Josh Brolin's show and they should have realized it. I'm terribly grateful to the Coen brothers for giving him a movie career in the new century, while Ty Miller languishes, forgotten and unloved.

My novel is on hold for the moment while my soul is consumed by a big long fic that keeps getting bigger and longer. It's the first Riptide that I've been really passionate about in months. (Maybe because it's also populated with fun Emergency characters.) Lately I've felt like I was just going through the motions and I think it showed. I don't care about comments so long as I know I did my best, and that feeling's been missing for too long. So when I'm not reading entries, not posting, not commenting, not answering email or reviewing books, it's because I'm writing. Fabulous crossover fic of win just owns me right now. In fact, it may turn into a little series, just to keep this one from getting entirely out of hand.

But for those concerned *cough[ profile] oddmonstercough*, I am 91% of the way through Les Miserables and will be done by tomorrow. Even if it means Johnny has to keep his pants on tonight. (Yes, I will forego writing porn to keep a commitment to you. My love is that strong.)

I'm sleeping again. We may have solved the problem of pain. It takes a few days to see if it's real, because my body tends to adapt to change and then go back to hurting, so it's kind of like trying to kill Borg. What's funny is that we did it this time with the careful placement of a variety of pillows which I already owned. One more might be needed, I'm waiting to see if the subtle knee stress completely screws that bad tendon, but if it does, I'm prepared. One of the little pillows that came with the van would be perfect. I hope we never have to travel. It now takes six pillows to put me to bed (maybe seven, depending on that knee), and three of them can't be substituted with standard hotel issue. I sure love home.
little_tristan: (BtVS Spike Misery)
Herr just left for work, after one of the worst weekends we've ever endured together. Over the last few months, he's been degenerating into a fanfic character--one who spins around in an endless panic, not eating or sleeping and living on caffeine and fear. The middle of last week, he started throwing up a lot, whether there was anything in his stomach or not, and he finally collapsed in the factory on Friday. Even then, he wouldn't see a doctor. He's scary that way--the lengths he'll go to to avoid losing control. Instead, he clocked out and slept in the truck until Bruder finished up and brought him home. He slept on the sofa all evening, refused his supper, and for the first time in months, slept through the night.

Ever since, we've been trying to get small bits of food into him, or even water if that's the best we can do, and he's developed a tolerance for my liquid food. (He drinks the high calorie stuff; I stick to the sugar free.) But we couldn't keep him home today. He may be a walking skeleton on whom Victoria's Secret extra small yoga pants hang loose (he wears them for underwear, not having any body fat whatsoever), but he's by-God going to work. The only sign that he's at all sane is that he is planning to spend most of the work-day sleeping in the van. He hasn't decided if he's going to clock in, or tell them he's taking a sick day while being on call for the things only he can do. It's sort of a toss-up between sleeping on their time or working on his. Either way, he gets paid and the work gets done. Unless he collapses again.

You'd think someone that writes these scenarios as often as I do would have some clue as how to handle the situation. But I don't. Actual men are just a whole different story, and I'm not being allowed to dictate the ending.
little_tristan: (Firefly Jayne on You Side)
It was Saturday, of course, so we stayed up extra late. Well, Bruder went to bed on time, but Herr flew until midnight while I watched Buffy and read Stephen King's It. So I wasn't much in the mood when I heard something in the basement. I was sitting by my favorite window, right over a heat vent, and at first it sounded like something in the ductwork, like a ball rolling. I was telling myself it was just a funny furnace sound, but it was 10:30 already, so the furnace had been off a good half hour. After a while, I went and told Herr there was something strange going on down there. He said he'd come look into it, and I went back to the vent to listen some more.

Ranger got in on it then, sniffing the front door and then the vent, pressing her big nose to the floor so hard that she left huge wet smudges all around it. And then suddenly I heard something else breathing. A sort of shuffling and snuffling, like a clumsy man with a cold. Now, for those who don't know, a few years ago I was home alone with our border collie, Doc, when a man broke into the house. It happened all slow and scary, with me listening and knowing that it was happening but not being able to do anything. He was coming in the door between me and my hiding place, and I couldn't get outside, so Doc and I had to chase him out with just her barking and me screaming and it was one of the top three worst things that's ever happened to me. Although it's also the reason we got Ranger, so good did come of it. She's the sole reason my PTSD only lasted 2 years.

Anyway, it's been years since I've had an actual flashback on that event, but I was having one last night, so I locked the door between the kitchen and the basement, got my pistol from my hiding place, and went back down to the office to see what was keeping Herr. He had gone back to flying, but there's something about me with a loaded gun that just makes him sit up and pay attention. So when I told him there was someone in the basement, he believed me. He woke up Bruder and gave him the pistol since it isn't a style he's familiar with (Bruder gave it to me) and he wasn't sure how to work the safety, and then got his sword from the bedroom. He's really good with a sword.

The boys made a lot of noise going down the stairs, and turned on all the lights. When that didn't get a reaction, and fifteen seconds went by without any shouting or shooting, I suddenly knew what they were going to find. And I was right. It was a big ol' possum, snuffling around on top of the retaining wall and banging into the ductwork. They chased it around a little and debated the relative merits of shooting/decapitating it, but in the end they just came upstairs and Bruder went back to bed. After a quick lesson on releasing the safety on my gun. The possum is still down there, so far as we know. I'm going to call animal control in the morning, and if they won't take it , I suppose the next step is naming it.

I'm thinking--Ted.
little_tristan: (Catch a Fallen Murray)
Day 7 - Who do you feel safest together with? Why?

Too easy. My lovely, crazy, educated-in-the-ways-of-combat-and-extremely-ethical-in-their-use husband, and his slightly saner but infinitely bigger and meaner brother. They're like superheros in every way that matters, and when they're on your side, you're untouchable. They will kill for you, go naked so you can have clothes, go hungry so you can eat, and extend all of these protections to your relatives that they hate and your cat that hates them.

Even having to live with the arch-nemesis isn't too high a price to pay for that.
little_tristan: (Fireworks)
The last time I stayed up til midnight on New Year's Eve was 1999. This will not change tonight. However, I have been drinking all day, so that should count for something. Have a great end of 2010 and an even better beginning to 2011!
little_tristan: (Scotty)
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Eleanor Rigby. It's the first Beatles song that I remember hearing and feeling that instant attraction to. I was maybe five or six and it came on the radio while I was playing. I had to put down my toys and just listen. And I spent years listening to that lousy AM station, just hoping to hear it again. It's a perfect song in every way, lyrically, musically, and emotionally, capable of evoking whatever I need to feel on any given day.
little_tristan: (Christina's World)
This morning Herr got up around five, because we sleep in on weekends, and put me on my back so I could rest before I got up. I don't know how long I lay there, but I had a dream that was just like it. Lying on my back with Murphy Sloane on my hip, thinking about the day ahead. But in the dream I was 18 again and had already lived the life that I have up to this point. I was on the brink of graduating high school and thinking about going to the prom tonight. Herr wasn't taking me because he's too old (and please don't ask how we'd managed to be married for 10 years; I don't know, I don't make the rules). I was going with a classmate. Not a real classmate, though. I think it was the guy we met on the last train to Hillsboro last Saturday, the big guy with the girlfriend and daughter. We had a rented limo and I was going to wear a blue dress with sequins.

And I was wondering what I would do with the rest of my life. I couldn't go back to the place where I used to work because I quit due to disability. (My dreams are often confused this way; I'm not disabled in the dream, but I have the knowledge that I really am.) I thought about applying for a job where Herr works so we could at least carpool, but there's nothing there that I can do. And it seemed like a waste to stay home and write full time when my book is such a complete failure, market-wise. I more worried about my future in this dream than I ever did when I was really 18.

I woke up and wasn't sure if it was a dream at all. It felt the same. Dull ache in my back, cat on my hipbone, not-quite-warm-enough covers over my feet. But I'm not 18. And I didn't graduate from high school, or go to a prom. I should have graduated seventeen years ago, but I had quit the year before. Life is a series of steps and we move from one to the next with great care. When one is skipped, it's so easy to get off course and just drift away, never knowing where we're going or understanding where we've been. I should have done better. Someone should have cared that I was getting lost back then, but lacking that, I should have cared. I should have tried harder.

I didn't. And now I don't know where to go.
little_tristan: (Chekov Mathletes)
I would describe the bizarre wheelchair accident that nearly broke my neck this morning, but I don't think I could do it justice. Let's just say this never happened in a Quickie. So I'm in a ridiculous amount of pain, but it's too early to tell if there are any actual injuries. Because while pain accompanies injury, they aren't they same thing. For now, just--fucking OW, dude.

Watching The Road did not cheer me up, but I didn't expect it to. If you've read the book, I'd advise skipping the movie. But if the idea of the book intrigues you and you just don't want to invest the time in reading it, the movie is pretty much the same. Only without the greatest line of the book, and, imho, one of the greatest lines in American literature: Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it. But what was really wrong with The Road was that it didn't have Anton Yelchin in it anywhere. If you can imagine.

So I followed it with Charlie Bartlett, and that did cheer me up. Charlie is a fun character, Anton is adorable, and I laughed a lot more than I expected to, based on the reviews. A lot of people compared it to Ferris Bueller, but I'm guessing those people never saw Igby Goes Down. The two movies are really two sides of the same coin. Put another way, if I'd written Igby, [ profile] catyah would have written Charlie.

I wish Charlie Bartlett was my friend. But I have Catyah (who needs to watch this, btw), and that's enough. The only thing I can ask is that my frigging spine stop hurting sometime this week. That's not too much, right?
little_tristan: (Saints1)
But I can't help it. I went outside and it was awesome. My chair is messed up enough than it's not totally safe, and the lack of tread on the front tires makes it so bumpy and annoying that I have to go really, really, really slow. So instead of 45 minutes to the post office, library and Walgreens, it took about two and a half hours. But it was so warm and sunny, and Ranger was on her best behavior, so it was awesome. I finally returned all of those library books that had been renewed a bunch of times and were racking up fines, including Jennifer Government, which I never even started, but owed $3.50 on already. I was going to try an in person renewal, since there were no holds, but then I saw that The Last Time I Wore a Dress was in and decided to blow it off to be sure I got to read that. It's the autobiography of a woman who spent her teen years in mental institutions being trained in femininity because she was too "boyish". I don't know if she's a lesbian or what the deal is, but she sounds smart and funny and I'm really looking forward to getting to know her. I'm sure I'll be reviewing it here soon, so watch for that.

We also mailed stuff to people who might be waiting for stuff. So if something shows up in the next few days, that's why. And I got a Star Trek book in the mail, mooched from Florida. Bruder's been after me to get the adaptations of TOS, so I mooched the first three to see if I like them. Hopefully I'll get to read them soon.

Now it's bedtime, so I need to stop rambling and say Happy Birthday to the lovely and talented [ profile] captainpixie, even though it's already tomorrow where you are. I hope it was a great day with cake and prezzies and fics and lots of everything you love. Hugs for the brave cap'n. :)

Oh, and McCoy is coming to fix my chair tomorrow. Or at least replace the wheels so it won't be so annoying. I've actually missed McCoy. He's the one good thing about dealing with this other company, and I haven't seen him in years. He's so scared of Ranger that I have to lock her up out of sight before he'll come in the house, but he's really nice and funny and reminds me a lot of Cedric the Entertainer. (Also, how awesome is it that his first name is McCoy? I thought so.) So--something to look forward to tomorrow.
little_tristan: (thinky)
And my memory is slipping already. Not in that overall, what did I do last week, Xanax brain kind of way that I can cope with by writing a cubic buttload of notes, but in a new (or old; familiar, anyway), what was I thinking three seconds ago, way. It's very weird and I'm having to try to remember all of my old coping skills at a point where I can't even remember what I was going to look up by the time Wiki loads. Is it worth it, you ask? I think so. But only time will tell.


little_tristan: (Default)

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