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: (Home)
We've lived in this house for 9 years and never actually attempted to maintain our yard, beyond the weekly mowings. But two guys are coming to spend two days fixing it up, and I wanted to be able to compare when they were done, so I shot a video. This, [ profile] amine_eyes, is what we're up against. :D

Two notes: The junkyard really is the arch-nemesis' fault. We had an old stove on the patio (before it was enclosed) and he got all bent about it. No one had time to take it to the dump, so he made the boys haul it out to a corner of the yard. Then he got them to add a couple more pieces of junk to it, that were also in his way. Then he got all pissed because it looked so bad and made Herr build the big fence to conceal it from view. And once it was fenced off, we added more junk. There's a water heater and a dead wheelchair and all kind of shit in there now. So, naturally, the blackberries took it over, and he got mad about that. The mowers have been spraying the berries so they're mostly dead, and now the landscapers are going to haul out the junk (no idea where they'll be putting it) and cut out the dead berries. The point? If the dumb son of a bitch had just let us keep the stove on the patio until WE got tired of it, it would have gone to the dump years ago and none of the rest of that mess, not to mention carpentry, would have happened.

Also, Dumb Ass is the guy who, totally unprovoked, threatened to shoot my dog, and then started coming over in the late evening dusk and mowing the front lawn. Or did, until we started getting the mowers to come in early March instead of mid-April. Now he sticks to dog threatening and leaves the grass alone.
little_tristan: (Shaun)
Catching up on events:

The new furnace is ordered! With no ETA, and some ominous stuff in the fine print about having someone to help get it off the truck. We paid the extra $100 to have it brought in a liftgate truck, and I'm going to ask the guy to leave it in the driveway until someone comes home. If it's a nice day, I'll go out and guard it.

Herr is worried about not being able to install it properly, but I have faith. In two things, actually. 1) That he actually can; and 2) if he finds he can't, he'll admit and call in an expert. Either way, we'll be warm soon.

Although not too soon. This is sort of good, because there's a sewer problem, too. We're worried that the guys the city had working out here might have caused it, because it started around that same time. First it was just a smell coming up through the pipes, and then it was a stench coming up the basement stairs, and now it's actual sewage coming up through the basement drain. Which is right next to the furnace, for some reason. (Our house reeks of a lot of things, and one of them is bad planning.) Herr keeps dumping buckets of water down the drain to move it along, but we don't really have a long term plan. I sort of want to call a plumber, but that's not really our style. We'll probably start by dumping some sort of corrosive acid down there, first.

On the bright side, the pets are all healthy, my writer's block is just a bummer rather than the fatal kind, and I have a big pile of Parker Lewis Can't Lose DVDs from Netflix. When I return them tomorrow, I can start watching Firefly again. I watched the whole series last week, but I feel like I missed some key bits. Especially in the movie. And there are steaks on the barbecue right now. Yummers!

Further furnace update: the company just called to confirm our order and let us know that it will be here in the next 10 days or so. I'm actually very relieved to have heard from them, since moments after I completed the order, I suddenly wondered who those people are and whether it was a good idea to give them my credit card info. So it's nice to know they exist and actually ship our furnaces. Well, probably ship out furnaces, but I'm willing to give them the benefit of the doubt on that for now.
little_tristan: (Kitten Hugs)
The sun was out today. It happens sometimes in January. Not often, but I'm always grateful. Since yesterday afternoon I've been making a list of places I needed to go and things I needed to do there, and this morning I called for a cab and went. So far as I know, I'm still not allowed on the buses. I do have an inquiry in there, though, to see if the no wheelchair policy has been lifted. I hope so, because the cab is expensive. Although Missy is truly an outstanding driver and no one on the buses can equal her. Not getting tipped over is worth a lot, really.

So I sold some books today. The bookstore downtown has agreed to carry it, too, and they've invited me to the Author Fair next month. That probably sounds like more fun than it is. But it's a good chance to exploit whatever about my personal situation is exploitable and maybe make a sale. I think I've figured out how to dress normally (relatively speaking), although there is a good chance I'll be wearing a lady bug stud in my nose. Because, you know, I like lady bugs. I'm desperately hoping that someone I know will come in and save me from the solitude of being totally snubbed by all the organic gardening, cooking with rice, how-white-people-have-destroyed-the-planet writers and their fans which makes up the majority of the local book business. Because, as many of you know, being snubbed is about the most painful thing I know. My motto as I go through life has always been love me or hate me, but spare me your indifference. A hundred times over the last year, including the day before yesterday, I've vowed never to write again because the general, sometimes overwhelming, indifference is soul killing. But then I realize that not writing is a faster and even more painful death, and I'm forced to take it up again, resuming the eternal hunt for the impossible: the story that pleases everyone. (Or at least more than 3% of a given population.) It may not exist, and I will almost certainly not be its author if it does, but the effort must continue.

After I have some more M&Ms and maybe watch another Mr. Belvedere. It's never a good idea to rush.
little_tristan: (thinky)
Tagged by [ profile] catyah--

1) What car did you drive during high school? (parents' cars count)

THEN: White 1981 Buick Century.
NOW: Don't drive anymore, but I do own a blue and white 1991 Ford Econoline

2) What was your favorite song during high school?

THEN: Either Poison's Something to Believe In or Toy Matinee's Toy Matinee
NOW: Jonathan Coulton's Still Alive

3) Who did you have a celebrity crush on, other than Starsky or Hutch?

THEN: Josh Brolin and Michael Malone (He was having a come back then, okay? Jeez).
NOW: Thom Bray and Hugh Laurie (Love those sexy writer/actor men.)

4) Were you involved in other activities in high school, and what were they?

THEN: The OSSOM Society (Oregon Student Safety on the Move)
NOW: What counts as an activity? Can I say writing and mating fish in Happy Aquarium?

5) What was the first name of your best friend in high school?

THEN: Johnny
NOW: Lynda

6) What was your favorite TV show?

THEN: The Young Riders
NOW: Riptide and Supernatural

7) Do you remember your favorite article of clothing during high school and what was it?

THEN: A psychographics t-shirt that said "All things are not created equal, therefor the need to be psycho is self-evident".
Now: Black leather boots that go with everything.

8) Did you have a job and what was it?

THEN: Nope
NOW: Writer

9) What career path did you want to follow after high school?

THEN: I never expected to have a career, or a future of any kind.
Now: This question confuses me. What path do I want to follow, other than the one I'm on? None that are at all reasonable.

10) Describe your hairstyle during high school.

THEN: Shoulder length, straight and plain, usually pinned up on the left side for an arbitrarily unbalanced look.
NOW: Long on top, shaved underneath, and usually in a ponytail (with a pen in it), for that mentally unbalanced look. (When I wear it down, though, it's quite normal.)

Compare your answers.

Were any of them the same? In spirit, if not presence.
How much did they change? Enough.
Are you surprised? Yes. In high school, I was trying to hide everything. I'm the same person, but now it shows. Didn't think I'd ever let that happen.

Tagging: [ profile] theunmovedmover, [ profile] captainpixie, [ profile] oddmonster, [ profile] krossero, [ profile] oasis3017
little_tristan: (Happy)
I took yesterday off, because it's my vacation (from my problems). And you all gave me permission. Some of you ordered me to. That's good. I love it when you get tough with me. (Now slap me around a little. Yeah, like that.)

So it's been a good day. I watched Where the Girls Are and tentatively started a little tag fic. Nothing big. No pressure. Played with my Happy Aquariums for a while, and explored the concept of Farmville, although it still baffles me. I'll go back later when these crops are dead and try again.

A few days ago I was friended on FB by a guy I knew in junior high, and today that got interesting. He pinged me while I was farming and we chatted for a while, and then talked on the phone. He's one of those people I remember now as kind, and likely to have been a friend if I had had the social awareness to realize it at the time. But he remembers us actually being friends, which is much better. It was just the sort of mellow little catch-up thing I almost never get and apparently needed.

Then, just now, I got a zine in the mail with a very promising sounding Riptide fic, so I'm going to settle in and read it before the boys get home. *happy sigh*
little_tristan: (Denis)
So I'm trying on some other random stuff. Watching movies I got for Herr that I don't really like or understand, such as Things to do in Denver When You're Dead and Reservoir Dogs. Quintin Tarantino is a pig who offends me on a number of levels, not the least of which being his resemblance to--well--someone I don't care much for. I will probably watch Pulp Fiction, next. Then go back to reading Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, which I think achieves whole new levels of sucking, but which everyone else in the English speaking world seems to love.

I do like the use of the song Little Green Bag in Reservoir Dogs.

Maybe I will have discovered someone better to be when I'm done.
little_tristan: (Goofball in taped glasses)
The furnace has failed again. I never should have let it go off. Gilead is gonna be a cold, cold place tonight.
little_tristan: (Home)
The Gormley man has been here less than five minutes and already there is heat. It's so worth the $75.

Update: Apparently it's a temporary fix. The furnace needs a major overhaul, or better yet a replacement, and every time it shuts off, there's a chance it won't come on again. Also, it's all rusted, so the gas leakage could begin at any moment. Good times in Gilead.

But at the moment, I am warm and writin' porn. Go me.
little_tristan: (Doom)
The boys are at work, it's 11 degrees out, and the furnace has been dead for an hour now. It's already down to 56 degrees in my dining room. I think I'll find out about freezing sooner rather than later.
little_tristan: (Quincy Instructive)
Today I'm making an exception. As most of you know, the New York senate voted yesterday not to allow same sex marriage. According to this article, 62 people debated the matter for three hours and then voted it down. All 30 Republicans voted no, as expected, because Republicans pretty much act as a herd and do as they're told, but so did 8 Democrats. The most I can say for them is that at least they voted their own beliefs. Would that they had simply followed the Democratic herd instead, because that would have made it 32-30 in favor and this would be done. At least in New York. At least until the appeal. Because it's never really done, and I'm wondering why.
Both raving and drowning... )
little_tristan: (Doom)
I won't even pretend this one isn't true. Written sometime in 1998 and periodically revisited when January strikes.

This way to the story )
little_tristan: (Ponderous)
Okay, went outside. It was yesterday, but I was too tired to write about it last night. We went to the coast, because Herr wanted to see waves. I directed him to Lincoln City (go up to Adams Street, turn left and drive 50 miles) because that's where we always went when I was a kid. I think I was about ten before I realized there was ocean in other towns. We took some bread (not enough, as it turned out) and fed the seagulls at the D River Wayside. They got really aggressive, not just fighting on the ground for the bits I threw out the window, but clambering around on the roof of the van and pecking the windshield. Herr started putting bits of bread on a stick and holding them out the wing window for the gulls to swoop down and grab. They must have been lined up on the roof like a taxiway at JFK. Luckily, I had the video camera.

Clicky for more story... )
little_tristan: (Christina's World)
I just realized that I've been forgetting to turn on my SAD lamp in the mornings. Maybe that's having a larger effect than I thought. I do have a lot of things to be happy about. I've been playing Happy Aquarium on FaceBook and my fish are doing very well. Morgan laid another egg this morning. The hatching part is so adorable. Pop! Baby fish. And I found a couple of old friends over the weekend. T is still alive, and I never expected that. He was so unhappy as a teenager, so self-destructive, and his health didn't leave him much of a margin to play with. But he got through, grew up, got married--just like he was supposed to. I feel bad now for expecting less. But if you knew him back in '92, you'd understand.

Herr has put an odd amount of effort into cheering me up this weekend. He's training me to be depressed to get positive attention and I wish he wouldn't. But the attention is nice. Yesterday I got my back rubbed without asking for possibly the first time ever. I think it's his way of saying he knows what's wrong and this is the best he can do. It does not reassure me. Some day he will die of the things he chose to accept.

Sorry, wandering down the wrong path there. Things I'm happy about--right. Stories are being written, for better or worse; plans are afoot for Thanksgiving (with my family at Sister's house, though I don't know yet who's taking me; they haven't flipped the coin yet), and my Christmas shopping is mostly done. Thanks to the magic of the Amazon wishlist. Although my sister's list is mostly books and she doesn't really read anymore, so I went off the reservation and got a total surprise. Which will really screw up her Christmas if she doesn't like it, so I have something to worry about for the next six weeks.

You know what? This being happy is really stressing me out. I'm going to go work on my sad story now.
little_tristan: (Doom)
I've probably used that title before, but I really like it and will probably use it again. There's not much going on. My life is sort of on hold while I wait for the 3rd (please, God let it be the charm) proof to arrive. Luckily, Herr really supports my desire to have it right. (He's just lovely that way.) We believe that it has to look as professional as possible if it's going to succeed, even if I can't fix the page number/header thing. We'll have to live with that.
Clicky for da sad... )
little_tristan: (Gefahrmaus)
A few weeks ago, an old friend from camp sent me some DVDs of videos that were shot there over the years, and I'm only just watching them today. Now, our camp wasn't what you might be thinking. It was for kids with Muscular Dystrophy (Jerry's Kids, for those of you who get your medical info from TV), and the whole week was just geared toward helping handicapped kids have fun. I used to be one of them. Now that I'm just a handicapped adult, it's a lot less fun. But watching these DVDs, I see a lot of people who died instead of growing up, so I can't really complain.

When I was a camper, I didn't fit in. Mostly because I could still walk then. I was on the borderline--too crippled for real life, and not crippled enough for camp. Sometimes I was mistaken for a counselor and asked to do things way beyond my ability, like carrying other campers. Sometimes that ended badly. And a couple of times the other girls told me that I didn't belong. That camp was to give kids in wheelchairs a chance to feel normal, and I was too normal to need that. Well, they were wrong. I did need it, and sometimes I even got it. Even with all my complicated feelings on the subject, it was still the single best part of my childhood. For ten years, from the ages of 12 to 21, I had friends for one week a year. And a few of those people are still my friends, like the wonderful man who made the discs for us.

So it's weird watching those kids from years and years ago and seeing myself now. Today I have the fucked up posture, the random movements and the near total lack of coordination that marked the children I grew up with. Today I can bitch about broken down wheelchairs and inaccessible buildings and people who just refuse to understand that one can have movement and sensation and still not be strong. But today I have no one to bitch with, because I'm too old to go to camp.
little_tristan: (Ponderous)
I've had an account there forever because it's the best way to actually find people I used to know, some of them I wanted to know again. Mostly friends from camp, which wasn't what you probably think of when you think of camp. I love how you can look at your friends' mutual friends and find other people you know. That rocks. The 240 character limits to posts, not so much. But what I hate, if that isn't too strong a word, is that it's all games. Yesterday I decided to clean up my requests page, and I couldn't believe how many different things I was being asked to do. People were sending me hugs, kisses, fish, plants, and round of drinks. I've been kidnapped, drafted into mafias and sent into space. People I've never met but friended basically out of politeness want my birthday on their calendars and my opinion of creation versus evolution. And, of course, accepting any of these things means signing up more of my friends to participate. The sea creatures are the worst. I think they must be self propagating, because the more I accept, the more there are. I started with 95 last night, accepted about 30, and had 97 waiting when I quit. There were 103 this morning, and the number only got to 92, after 20 minutes of clicking. I was at if for an hour this morning, but more stuff just kept popping up. And some of these people I know for a fact are not even awake at this hour of the morning.

So at least I understand now why my friends who do both FB and LJ are never here, and never answer emails. They don't have time to actually talk to me when they're so busy sending me fish and plant life, which I guess I'm now obligated to take care of until the end of time. I just completely don't understand.
little_tristan: (catloaf)
Yesterday we found a notice on the front door from the cable company, saying they'd detected a signal leak in our house and needed to fix it within 7 days. There's an FCC law about that, apparently. If it's not done in 7 days, they have to disconnect the cable. So I called and they came out today and fixed it. I still don't quite get the leak idea, but apparently this will allow us to watch Supernatural again. And probably improve our internet, which was always going down. So that's good.

I'm writing, editing some little things into my book (The Bedlam Boys, if anyone's interested), and fixing the rough bits. I think it's just about to the point where I would actually show it to people. It helps a lot that I changed it to a different font the other day. Seeing it in a totally different typeface makes the mistakes stand out more so I feel like I'm making more progress. I think everyone knows how easy it is to skim without meaning to, especially when you've read it hundreds of times, and the font change seems to be the answer, at least for me.

Reading the local paper today, I saw that the guy across the street has died. He wasn't my kind of person, exactly, but he was a decent enough guy. We were the cripples on the block; for a long time we even had the same model wheelchair. (Until he caught his tilted seat on a door frame and ripped the back off. They're powerful that way.) It was over a week ago, though, and now I feel awful for not knowing. I'm going to send his wife a card, but it's really late. If I could still bake, there would be snickerdoodles, too.

I wonder if they're going to sell his van. It has a skeleton riding a Harley painted on the side, but it runs really well.
little_tristan: (Murray's Bad Day)
My aunt Doreen just died. She's my mom's half sister, grandpa's daughter from his first marriage. I didn't know her well, only saw her two or three times in my life, but it's still a loss. Mom's very upset and I'm trying to be upset with her because she likes that. She feels the circle closing in on her, as I do when my cousins die. It's a generational thing. I'm glad Doreen was so old. Much older than Mom, even. It makes me feel there is still time. But cousin Ivan was 21 so that's a lie. Time is a lie. It is not on our side.


little_tristan: (Default)

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