little_tristan: (Kitten Squee)
In two weeks! I know, I never get to do anything awesome, except now I do! Russell just mentioned when we were talking about good and bad music (in his opinion) that a band I'm always talking about is playing Spirit Mountain Casino, just down the road from where I grew up. So I checked the website and IT'S THE GIN BLOSSOMS!!! The best part is that he's heard me playing their music a lot and always remarks I don't know who these guys are, but at least they can play. So he's going to take me, since Mark can't abide crowds. Makes him paranoid and weird. Me too, really, but it's a in place I think of as home turf so it feels safer. And it's THE GIN BLOSSOMS!!!

If you don't know who that is, click here:
little_tristan: (Gilead Gunslingers)


It's true, the Multiplaz requires 50% ethenol, which is 100 proof vodka. Mark's using Smirnoff's, since it's a tax write-off anyway. This is his first time running a plasma welder so he's just messing around, getting a feel for it. Next weekend he'll be making awesome stuff for real!
little_tristan: (2 Horses)
I was at my Grandpa's farm, in the house with all my family. Even people I didn't know but took on faith were relatives. I was telling them what the farm and the house had been like when I was a little girl, before it was fully remodeled a grand total of three times, and all the very young kids were fascinated. We had been riding horses that day, and in the evening we were told that the property was going to be sold*. I started arguing, saying that we couldn't let it out of the family. It was where we had our reunions, where my last family dog is buried, where Aunt Lois's ashes are scattered in the flowerbeds, and a lot of other things that I thought but didn't say out loud because I recognized even in the dream that they were memories of other dreams. I only said the things that were true, about Lois, and Blind Lemon Daisy the Traveling Blues Dog.

The older generation started arguing so I went out to the barn. It had also been remodeled extensively since I was a kid, but unfortunately that's just in the dream. In reality it's still a huge mess. But that's not the point of the story. The dream is the important barn and it was awesome. It was a well-lit bustle of activity in the middle of the night, full of people tending to newborn foals under heat lamps, and calves sleeping snuggled against their mothers. While I walked around looking at things, trying to imagine how all this technology, all this stock, could help us keep the farm, I noticed a foal beside me. It had slipped out of its pen and was following me down the aisle, looking at the others. I tried to shoe it away, but soon there were four or five foals following me around, getting me yelled at for taking them from their mothers. Or maybe trying to steal them.

The staff(?) took them all back to the pens they shared with both parents (it's a dream, remember?), but they just kept getting out. Eventually everyone gave up and let the foals follow me. They didn't have time to keep chasing them around all night. A couple of calves and a duck joined in before we made it back out to the yard. Then my little mare from before wandered out for our farewell ride. But she didn't really want me to go, so she wouldn't let me mount. If we never had the last ride, I couldn't leave. I woke up still trying to get on that horse.

Maybe this is what my FarmVille avatars do when I'm not playing.



*This is an ongoing argument that may or may not be solved soon by my Aunt Jean (whose husband inherited it from Lois and then died), selling it to her sister, since she (Jean) had a stroke a few years ago and is in a care facility. Jean's sister isn't technically my grandparents' family, but what the hell. She'll probably let us visit.
little_tristan: (Riptide Murray Happy)
Well, not the whole day. I was working on household stuff this morning, and then went to continue my business by picking up prescriptions at Walgreens. On the way back, taking the same route, I spotted a really flashy cigarette box on the sidewalk and went "Ooh, shiny object!" Because it was. Camel is apparently angling hard for the lady market because it's black with hot pink edging. And they're called No. 9 100s. Love potion in cigarette form, anyone? Since smokers are like crack addicts who will smoke dead bugs if they're high enough, I snagged it (what? it couldn't have been there more than 15 minutes; it's not like that time I was seven and wanted to pick up a pack of gum off the ground but it was covered with ants) and giggled with joy to find only 3 missing. Sign of things to come.

I really was going to get back to work, but Homeless Steve (not to be confused with Dickless Steve) is back in town and was hanging out with some friends at the bank plaza. So I ended up staying for about three hours, sharing my lady-smokes and handing out spare lighters. One of the new guys, Frank, isn't actually new to the city. He used to live a couple blocks from us, but after a few trips to jail and a stint in the state pen, he seems to be in transition. I learned a lot from him about conditions in the prison (I'm all for punishment, but no a/c when it's 100 degrees out and 120 in does seem a little extreme) and can just feel my writer muscles expanding.

He's also a big reader of the kinds of books you find in such places, like James Patterson and Michael Crichton. He suggested I plant some of my books in detention centers because prisoners will read anything and if they like it they'll tell their friends on the outside. I've always wanted to do something for prisoners, it's one of Jesus's big five--along with clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, caring for the sick, and sheltering the homeless, but Mark's never allowed me to get involved. (Who can guess why? Show of hands. Yep, not a secret.) However, I already asked him and he thinks giving them books is just fine. So that's on for later in the week, when I have time to walk over to the jail. Also conveniently located in my neighborhood.

The other big event was running into Rob and his girlfriend, whom I met when they were playing music on the sidewalk a few weeks ago. This time he had his cat with him. It's a nice medium sized cat, like Murphy Sloane only younger and sturdier, with a shiny black coat. The cat was on a leash attached to a studded collar, and wearing a little harness with saddlebags resting on its shoulders so it could carry its own toys. Everyone pulls his own weight on the street. Rob carried the box of cat treats, though, and the cat did some tricks for us in exchange for chicken bits. These included slapping five, playing patty cake, and sitting up to beg. Cutest. Thing. Ever. When it was time for them to go, Rob put the cat on his shoulder and away they went.

I sure hope we meet again.
little_tristan: (Kitten Glowing Kitten is Glowing)
Looking at my last update, I notice that things didn't go exactly as planned. It was chilly Tuesday so I paid the shop rent and blew off going to Lowe's. I did that Wednesday instead. It was a good trip out on the bus and a sucky one back, as the driver did a touch and go rolling stop and didn't pick me up. I was all pissed and walked home, with a stop at Harvest Fresh (which we call the hippy grocery store) where they actually have a build your own salad bar, to go, priced by the pound. I bought about 12 oz of my favorite veggies and took it home to eat.

Sadly, I also lost my sunglasses either in the store or on the street right outside it. For those who haven't met me yet, I can't actually see outside without some kind of shades. We're not sure exactly what the deal is, probably an MD related muscle weakness, but since sunglasses make it manageable, I don't worry about it. It was a hard walk home, though.

The good news is that Mark put the new lockset in the side door that night. He also installed the heavy-duty hasp inside the basement door and put my favorite big lock on it. And, just for my peace of mind, a smaller, lighter hasp on the kitchen side of the upstairs basement door. I close it and hang the open lock on it when we go to bed, just because I feel better. It's really there in case I actually hear someone in the basement, so I can lock them in and have a few minutes to get out of the house. Or if Steve actually comes back for his stuff, I'll lock it while he's in the house, if for no other reason than to openly display my distrust. I actually want him to come back and see that all the doors are locked against him now. That's how hurt I am. (We're also using a hasp to secure the back-shop door from the inside, but I fasten it with a carabiner. We don't have a key to the lock that's lying around out there and the a-n might decide to use it.)

But enough of that. Heather came over yesterday and we went out on foot to do a bunch of errands. The first being a stop at Ross for new sunglasses. I wore a visor and only looked at the ground two feet ahead, but it was still grueling. Still, I can only buy them at Ross. I don't think it's snobbery, I've owned dozens of pairs of shades of every type and price range, and the mid-level designer ones are just the best. I can always find a style that suits my face and the lenses are top quality. The dollar store ones Heather likes just reduce everything to shadow, and the blue-blockers reflect too much. But Ross always has something that looks good and lets me see clearly in any light, for around $10. I think I'm wearing Steve Madden now. In a few years, when they've been lost, or dropped and run over (the usual CoD), I get to go back and pick out another pair. I love an excuse to shop.

Another good excuse is winter! Heather's been collecting school clothes for her kids on all our trips, so after we looked at all the cool stuff we couldn't justify actually buying, I was able to justify a really amazing knit scarf in a kind of round scallop pattern that I've never seen before. It feels like angora, although it was probably way too inexpensive to actually be, so I had to have it. Even though it's green. But it's a really dark, neutral, moss in the forest shadows green, so I think it'll fit in nicely with the black/white/grey thing I have going on. And when CL needed socks, I discovered knee high Hello Kittys in grey/black and red/black. On clearance! So much warm, soft kittyness for my legs this year! Heather got shoes for the kids and it was over to Safeway for some lunch from the deli.

Then we crossed over to Walmart so she could get pull-ups for the baby (has anyone else noticed how they've racially diversified the diaper section? Let's hope it hits the big kid clothes soon) and some keys for the new doorknob. Russ and I each had one, but we needed more for Mark, Heather, and the a-n. Who, thank dog, forgot his momentary obsession with having keys for all the padlocks we're installing. His excuse? There might be a fire. I asked him why he'd want to get into the basement in case of fire--if the fire was down there, keeping the door closed would be a good idea, containment-wise, and he'd just fall down the unbelievable lethal stairs anyway--and he lost his shit, as always. Luckily the forgetting stuff worked for me this time. Almost makes up for the incredibly demented story he made up the other night about Steve stealing cash from him.*

Okay, then we went to Goodwill and I found FOUR heavy skirts for winter. One all black, one black and grey checked, one grey with black roses, and one that's just grey. I think all of them except the one with roses will look good with the Kitty socks, too. Heather found some more clothes for the kids, including an unlicensed knockoff HK dress for CL, which is just as adorable as it can be. It's kind of an old-fashioned party dress style with a long puffed skirt and a sash that ties in back. Thinking about it now, I suspect it was handmade by one of the local Hispanic woman for a little girl's party. You can tell it's not real Sanrio because HK has a cute little smiley mouth. I'd post pix but Heather has strict rules about her kids' pictures online. It's not allowed. Ever. Okay, I guess she has one strict rule. (Except for that one on my FB where her son is a week old and I'm wearing him a body sling and you can't even see his face. My friend took that pic and it's a work of art.)

We stopped at the park on the way back so the kids could run around some and then came home to confirm the news Mark gave me over the phone at Goodwill: that some punk-ass, uninsured, fucktard had hit Heather's van, my mommy's van, while it was safely and legally parked in front of our house. He'd assured me that it wasn't bad, that the other car had taken a lot more damage, and she definitely shouldn't worry. But of course we did.

Mark was right, though. There's a little scuff on the door below the trim where it says Venture, and sadly she's determined that it goes down to the primer, but she knows a guy who can fix it. We have good insurance on it since she hasn't changed the title, but she's scared they'll total it out because it's 8 years old and she'll have to buy the kind of crap car they'll assume hers is because they didn't know my mom.

Apparently what happened is someone backed into the driver's door in some kind of hatchback or mini-van/SUV thing and the side mirror punched out their big, overly-tinted rear window. It was easily the blackest glass I've ever seen outside an art studio and Heather swept up at least ten pounds of it. She said it's either medical grade or was bought out of state because Oregon doesn't allow that much tint.

Personally I think we're lucky the person who lost all that glass didn't get out and smash one of Heather's windows just out of spite. It must've been tempting.

The neighbors across the street said they didn't see it happen and they had no idea who it was. They heard the crash but the other car was gone when they got outside. This is, of course, a complete lie. They're always outside or in the front room looking out the windows. They see everything. And the only way the angles could have worked is if the other car was, you know, backing out of their driveway. (Interestingly, the woman I talked to kept calling the driver "she", which is grammatically unusual when referring to an unsub. Most people say either "he" or "they".) They're pot dealers and alcoholics, good friends of Steve's although yesterday was the first time I'd ever spoken to them, and they have random drunks and stoners staggering in and out of there in their black-windowed bass thumpers all hours of the day and night. There were three visitors' cars in the drive when I was talking to them. Now we're waiting to see, purely out of curiosity, which of the regulars stays away for a couple days, or comes back in a different car.

The last thing we did was sort my clothes again. Heather takes away everything I don't want and gives it to her friends, or a thrift store, or makes it into something else. This time I added two purple t-shirts that I don't wear because of the company logos so she can make them into necklaces for me. I love her t-shirt necklaces, I just don't have one yet. No one knows how she does it, but she can make anything out of anything else. I'm using a shopping bag that she sewed from a plastic bag of Purina Chicken Chow. She gets all my dog and cat chow bags, of course, and I get a shopping bag for every 5 bags I give her. Anyway, sorting out the bin of old stuff gave us a place to put the new winter stuff. When it's time to wear it, the strapless shirts and short skirts of summer will go into the bin and the heavy skirts and fuzzy sweaters of winter will come out. Maybe this winter won't be so bad if I feel pretty.


*Okay, yes, Steve's a thief. Yes, he stole some money from my purse a few weeks after he moved in and I chose to let it go that once. But I know the old man's story is bullshit because we all remember the bait money he left on his desk until it actually got dusty, like dried up cheese in an old mouse trap. The boys eventually took it to relieve everyone of the humiliation of continually trying to entrap a member of the household in such an obvious way. The best part? The old fart coincidentally put the $10 piece of cheese out a week or so after Steve actually did steal from me, which I never told anyone about, but he surely believed I would. I smile a little when I imagine how that must have felt.
little_tristan: (Otters Significant Otters)
Yesterday we loaded up the van and went to Lincoln City so the Catyahs could see the ocean again. And I could get some of that awesome glass jewelry that I somehow managed to resist buying when I was there with Heather last month. (I said if I still wanted it later I could have some. Turns out I did.) So we went to the D River Wayside, Lincoln City's biggest tourist attraction, where the world's shortest river runs from Devil's "D" Lake to the ocean. I stayed in the van while the Catyahs and Steve walked on the beach for a while. They found a lot of really cool rocks and shells and sea glass, and I think Catyah has a piece of polished coral.

It was kind of foggy and misty but not too cold, so after a while Steve came back and got me out of the van. I'd been sitting there thinking about all the times I went to that very spot with my family, feeding the seagulls and eating ice cream and walking on the beach looking for shells. I never found any sea glass, though. It wasn't a particularly sad moment, and I'd just smoked most of a really good joint, but by the time Steve came to check on me, I was crying. Probably inevitable. He never asks why, though. Not exactly. If it's a concrete reason, he wants to know. If it's some fucked up emotional cripple shit, he prefers to distract me rather than talk about it. But he does let me talk about it some. We looked at the waves for a while and then he took another walk along the waterline. I was cold when he got back so we got in the van and the Catyahs joined us shortly.
Then it was off downtown... )
little_tristan: (Tanzer)
It was a big one! First we did birthday related things, involving cousin Heather and my sister. That was good. Sadly, Steve's grandmother died in the middle of it and that's been hard. Being one of your typical Southern men, he doesn't talk about it much. At least not to me. I hope he's talking to someone, but even asking him that infringes more on his feelings than he likes. So he's been doing a lot of binge drinking in the evenings and we've been letting him, as we all understand the urge. Interestingly, he does talk more during the day. Just not about that.

Anyway, he got an opportunity to work a few days in Portland this coming week and in addition to not wanting to deny him the chance to make a buttload of money in very little time, we figured it would be good for him to go blow off steam with his friends who stay up past seven. We did talk a little about it yesterday, how blackout level drinking indicates a problem and that worries me a bit, and he said he'd be over it when he came home. Probably Thursday. So that's good. We just have to feed ourselves (and I have to not fall out of my chair) until then.

On the subject of feeding us, I found out yesterday that Steve is even more valuable than I'd thought. Just having a meal ready when the boys get home from work is great, and the food is tasty and much more healthy than we're used to, as I've mentioned. The one thing he can't really do well is gravy, which Russell is a master at, so no more ladles of yummy butter and pork fat on everything. Instead, we get baked chicken or roasted pork with steamed broccoli and rice, and broccoli, carrots, cauliflower, lettuce, spinach, onions and celery on the side.

Not only is that yummy, too, but at the doctor's office yesterday I found that I've lost 14 pounds in the last 4 months. Some of the credit goes to whoever invented the My Fitness Pal app, which lets me scan barcodes and search fast food websites so I actually know what I'm eating every day. (Gut Gott, I say at the Burgerville drive through. Forget the fries and make that a small shake!) Something about watching all those 100 calorie, 15 grams of sugar entries stack up makes the cookies a lot less appealing. And there's always fruit and low-fat cheese in the fridge now, which looks way better on the daily tally. Letting Steve do the shopping is just as important as having him cook.

In other news, Murphy Sloane turns out to have retractable claws after all. He just stopped caring for them at some point in the past few years and they were grown out to ridiculous lengths. I didn't know that could happen until [livejournal.com profile] catyah mentioned trimming her kittens claws. Mark didn't think it would be possible to capture and hold onto Mr. Sloane while messing with his feet, so he wasn't too into helping. But the Murph and I go way back and he's always been pretty tolerant of my idiosyncrasies, so I trapped him in the bathroom the other day and gave it a shot. With the really good pet nail clippers, of course.

He didn't seem to notice much when I did his front feet, but his back feet must've been more sensitive because there was a little biting. I think walking on those claws for so long was probably getting painful, but with a lot of petting and head scratching, we got it done. Now he can walk around on me at night and not wake me up over and over with his pointy little claws digging through my nightgown and catching in my skin. Even his leaps onto the bathroom sink have gotten smoother, with a lot less slipping and falling in. I know I sound like a terrible pet parent now, but all I can say is he's 17 years old. I've never known a cat that old, at least not one that wasn't being kept alive with great effort, so I generally don't know what's normal and what I can fix. Now that he's feeling better, I'm going to trim them up again this week, and maybe after that he can get back to maintaining his feet on his own.

Sometime today I'll be going to a wedding. Those of you who were friends back in 2009 might remember that I lost a cousin in early April. He was riding his motorcycle when he crossed the center line on a curve and hit an oncoming car. It was shocking and awful, but life has gone on and this afternoon his widow is getting married. I haven't met the lucky man, but I've heard that they've been friends for a long time, they work together, I think, and he's gotten approval from her kids and most of the cousins. It will be sort of a strange wedding, with the bride's family, the groom's family, and the first husband's family, but I'm sure it'll work out fine. And maybe the Seattle/Sacramento cousins will come. They always liven up a party.

Now I'm going to get back to writing before Heather shows up. I'm really starting to love this book again. It's shaping into a nice love story, with a little extra porn for the people who thought The Bedlam Boys didn't get m/m enough. That's the promise here. Shorter, cheaper, sexier, sadder, and available sometime in June. Maybe July. Depends on if I shut up and get writing.:)

Quick question for my German friends: Which is the correct way to refer to a pair of mice? I started out imitating MIA's gender neutral das Mausen, but the dictionary says it should be the female die Mäuse . It works either way, but I want to get it right.
little_tristan: (Ranger & Kenny)


Found on FaceBook: Lily lost his sight five years ago and was adopted by Madison, who acts as his guide dog. Possibly the coolest thing I've seen all week.
little_tristan: (Kitten DJ)
My mom had a record called The World of Johnny Horton. It's actually two records, and the original set had a foldout jacket with a little biography of Johnny Horton, ending with his premature death in a car crash in the late fifties. Mom played this set of records often, as it was also one of Grandma's favorites. So it naturally became on of mine.
Missing Mom intersects with US history... )
little_tristan: (Firefly River I Can Kill)
This is, in my opinion, quite possibly the best vid made for any fandom anywhere. The song fits the show, the clips fit the song, and everything in it is shiny.

little_tristan: (Ranger)
This is actual security camera footage. The dog's name is Paco, and he's generally very well mannered. I saw him interviewed on tv, too, and he couldn't have been nicer. Now if I can just get the old man to watch it...

little_tristan: (Firefly See Kaylee Smile)
Alice is 15 years old and has been battling cancer for the last four years. She's been up and down with it, but apparently the fight is winding to a close. She hasn't given up, she's just being realistic about the whole thing, which I appreciate. Her blog is actually kind of fun, and a lot more cheerful than my LJ when you get right down to it, as she's basically a happy kid and too busy being grateful for life to complain much.

It's called Alice's Bucket List, as the main point was to talk about the things she wants to do before she dies. Her list makes me happy, too, because it's mostly simple things that she could easily do if she just lived to grow up. And many items involve doing things with her sister and dog, like having nice photos taken. And catching up on it today, I see that she's accomplished nearly half of the things on the list. Her posts are sweet and filled with gratitude, every day says it's the happiest day of her life, and it's just lovely, in spite of the sorrow behind it, to share in her simple joy. And that's all she's asking us to share, too. There are no requests for donations, no PayPal links, and absolutely no demands for pity. (Although there is a threat of prosecution, posted by her mother, against commenters who say incredibly cruel and vile things. I wouldn't go up against an angry mom, I tell you what.)

You can also follow her on Twitter @alice_pyne. She doesn't have a FB page as too many people were pretending to be her and it got overwhelming trying to straighten it out all the time.

Anyway, her blog is new enough that there are fewer than thirty entries and you can still read the whole thing pretty easily, if you don't try to read all the comments. I recommend it to anyone looking for a little happy inspiration.
little_tristan: (Happy)
It's so great! Paul and Trevor got here a little after nine and just left, about three thirty. It wasn't supposed to take quite that long, but there was an awful lot to do, and we had a sudden massive downpour just when Trevor was supposed to go up on the roof, so that held things up a bit. Which I'm totally okay with. I like Trevor, and besides, having him fall off the roof would have seriously delayed the project.

So now the house is warm, my feet are warm, the dogs are warm, and that burning oil smell (from the grease on the new metal ductwork) is already gone. Now I just need to learn how to program the new thermostat so it will come on before we get up in the morning. I swear I will have the knowledge before we go to bed. Technology is power, and as God is my witness (waves woolly socks dramatically) I will never be cold again! (In my own living room, at least.)
little_tristan: (Quoth the Raven)
Okay, so Prop-8 was two years ago, but whatever. I saw this on [livejournal.com profile] barancoire's journal and it made me happy. Like, laughing at the cute while wondering if it's too late to get a shirt happy.

little_tristan: (Geek On)
Herr's been teaching himself to play with wires lately, buying bits of circuits and figuring out how to run motors from scratch. This is what he created over the weekend. (And yes, that main board is the pullout keyboard tray off my desk.:)
Pics after the cut )
little_tristan: (Books)
Day 28 - First favorite book or series obsession

Probably White Fang by Jack London. I was in the second or third grade when I read it for the first time and I read it every year through high school, when it was supplanted by Gone With the Wind.

First series would be Jim Kjelgaard's Big Red stories. I think I read everything by him before I was in junior high, but those were my favorites.
little_tristan: (cutter john)
And it's a close fit. I like that. I'm sitting up straight and properly supported for the first time since May. And pneumatic tires do give a smoother ride. Not that I'm keeping them, it's just something to appreciate while I wait.

McCoy showed me some emails where the manufacturer lied and mislead them about parts, which didn't make me feel better, but does take some of the pressure off Providence. And he left me the loaner chair, in case mine gets a flat before they can find solid tires. There are a few jury rigged parts on my chair, apparently, because it's so old and obsolete, they simply don't make the stuff I need anymore. It was a discontinued model when I got it back in '05, and they aren't really built to last anymore, so the assumption seems to be that all of the new ones sold have since died. (How I got a discontinued chair in the first place is a whole other story of fraud committed by a whole other DME supplier.)

So my plan now is to take care of this one as best I can, and put in for a new one the minute something starts to go wrong. The process of getting approval can take months, and I want this one in decent shape when it's retired so I can use it as a backup when the new one is in the shop. I think the length of time I've had it, combined with the difficulty of getting parts and the case I can make with the doctor that I need more advanced features, should be sufficient. And this time I'm going to look at different models and get what I want, not what the salesperson wants me to buy.

But today, I went to the library. Really fast. And nothing creaked. So I'm going to take it and smile.
little_tristan: (Chekov Frantic)
I'm getting my wheelchair back, and I get to celebrate by picking up my first book from the recently discovered interlibrary loan! Wednesday has serious potential this week.
little_tristan: (Look it Up)
Thanks be to my book-mates, [livejournal.com profile] catyah and [livejournal.com profile] oddmonster, whose repeated use of the term interlibrary loan, coupled with my discovery of WorldCat, has led me to the land of books I didn't know I could get. Turns out we do have the interlibrary service, it's just a matter of knowing who to ask. Somehow I expected such a thing to be publicized, or at least noted on their website, but it's more personal than that. So, okay. I can deal with human beings if I have to, for a good cause. Today's motivator was Sarah Schulman's Ties That Bind: Familial Homophobia and its Consequences (how can you resist a title like that?), which WorldCat located a mere 25 miles from here, in the Washington Co system. (That's Hillsboro to you, Kitty.)

There's no way of knowing how long it will take, but I love having things to look forward to. In the more immediate future, I'm also waiting for Pansy Division's That's So Gay from Amazon. Buying physical CDs feels weird now, but some things are worth it.

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