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 Now it's probably always going to remind me of outdated hate.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: (Otters Significant Otters)
He's not okay, but he's a little better than yesterday. The insurance debacle got bigger and stupider and in the end we were forced to cave. Remember back when we decided to buy the plan that we couldn't afford so we could go to our own hospital? There was a misunderstanding. When Kaiser said we could choose hospitals, what they meant was we could choose to go to theirs and be fully covered, or go to ours and pay fully half the total cost out of pocket. (With a deductible of either seven or eighteen thousand; I never did get that figured out.)

Last night's post was written in a state of denial, after we made the bold decision to stick to our guns and do what was right for Mark. Today there was a lot more information dumped on us. With actual numbers. In writing. Bad, bad numbers. And by the time the ambulance arrived, it was so late Russ and I couldn't go, what with him having to be home in bed an hour ago.

The most hateful, hurtful part of all of this is that the doctors here all say the same thing: he really isn't ready to be moved. There's still a chance of decompensating on the 205. But Kaiser says no. They hear pneumonia and breathing without a vent and stamp him good to go. But since we had to make the ultimate decision about whether to go bankrupt or not, and therefor whether to put him on the road, he also had to sign a goddamn fucking waiver absolving them of responsibility in that very event. Or any other, really.

I'm having a very Ted Quinlan Catbread Underwater moment here. Every time I think I've met my limit of hateful, hurtful, downright goddamn hard things--my life just kicks in again. Mark's alone and scared with his lungs 1/3 full of fluid, and yes, he'll almost certainly get well, but I promised I wouldn't let them take him away, and now I have to find away to get out of these clothes (which I've been wearing since yesterday morning) and go to bed alone and I can't stop crying because if something does happen I'm two hours away.

It barely matters at this point that I won't get a shower this week. But it still kinda does.

I wish I had one of those best friends who comes running when things go to pieces and hugs me until the world makes sense.

I'll see Heather tomorrow. She'll probably hug me. That'll be good.

I'm sorry I didn't reply to any comments yesterday. They made me so happy, in a hugged sort of way. I might not reply to any comments here, either. Tomorrow's going to be a mess. But any offered hugs will be gladly accepted and deeply felt.

Last night I didn't sleep, but a few times I was sort of half awake and suddenly felt Mark lying beside me. He used to do that when we were dating, when he was too tired to drive home. He'd go to sleep in the living room but I'd wake up in the middle of the night to find him on the bed, fully dressed, just watching me sleep. It seemed like it should have been creepy but it never was.

All day I've been feeling him, a warm, skinny arm across my back, a little shiver of tobacco and geeky t-shirts.

He called as I was writing that sentence. I knew I felt something.
little_tristan: (Gilead Gunslingers)
For some reason Mark woke me up at three this morning. He gets up early, I get up early? That was not in the vows.

Ebay has been kind enough to throw me a couple more pairs of jeans that Mark can wear. Man thing: I didn't know he needed pants because there are at least 5 pairs lying around the bedroom. Draped over the heater we don't use, sticking out from under the bed, just kind of everywhere. I don't dress him or do the laundry, so how was I supposed to know he only considers two of them wearable?

Other man thing: Russ has been letting me buy him socks that are too small for, I don't know, ten years. Why would he not tell me he needs bigger socks? Are big feet an embarrassment for big men? Is he a girl? Commune Purchasing Officer is a hard job enough without all this disinformation re: socks.

Heather is learning the second hardest way why people don't let toddlers play with their Kindle Fires. I gave her an Otterbox to save her the hardest lesson, but the little boogersnot--the same kid who tells his mother in complete sentences that he has to poop and then hides in a closet to do it in his pants because he wants privacy--has figured out that hitting certain buttons makes the games better. By buying upgrades. Which are then charged to me.

Am I the only one who thinks Amazon should require a password when buying apps and upgrades within apps? iTunes does, and it's not nearly as good as Amazon in most other ways. I wouldn't mind if Heather was buying them. She has good sense. Her son, otoh, thinks nothing of billing me $7 so he can have a wider variety of Angry Birds.

Maybe there's a way to turn off One-Click on certain devices. That can be my project for the day.
little_tristan: (Bloom County cutter john)
The boys are back at work. I love that the bosses "allow" them to do their own work there on their own time because they know they'll reap all the benefits. The only way the orders get filled is with out machines but the royalty is such a small fraction of a penny that even Russ can't quite figure out what we're actually getting. It comes down to something like a dollar an hour at top speed. At that rate, it'll take about ten years just to break even on the machine.


In better news, I may have a new home for Mom's power chair. Heather called this morning to ask if I still had it. Her mom's fiance at the time of her death is dying slowly of liver failure and needs a little help getting around. He's been a family friend forever and he and Heather are still close.

It's been hard to give the chair away because I let the batteries go flat for so long that they won't take a charge. Batteries are expensive. I didn't want to buy new ones and then send it to Goodwill or something, and no one else will take it since I can't prove it works. The batteries I get are $300 each, and of course they need two. But I get the really good ones that last a long time. I put a lot of miles on my chairs and our insurance only buys them once a year, no matter what kind you get.

But there's usually a fairly cheap option that gets cheaper still when you pay cash. Maybe $50 or $75 each. It depends on the make and model of the chair. I'm going to call the shop I like best and find out how to get them. It'll be nice to get the chair out of the library (it's in the Fiction Closet--YA to the left, horror to the right, literature straight ahead) and back into useful service. I wish the next owner was a little bigger, though. It seems like a waste giving a 600 pound weight limit to a 200 pound guy. But I understand he has a puppy now. Puppy will probably enjoy rides on the extra-wide seat.

And a grandkid is all lined up to take puppy home when Uncle D passes so no worries there. (He's not really an uncle, but Heather's always called him that. If he'd married her mom, I'd have called him cousin.)

I'm bidding on a piece of Billy Martin's--Poppy Z. Brite as was--jewelry on eBay. It's not only beautiful, I really want to own something that was owned and worn by the person who wrote the Liquor series. It breaks my heart, as a person and a writer, to see him selling his little treasures to make rent when his books are so great. And there are so many of them! How can someone so huge and famous and wonderful be forced to suffer this much? Does good writing really pay this badly?

I'm really torn between wanting to get it at a good price and not wanting to disappoint him or rip him off. Maybe I'll be outbid by someone rich. Then I'd be sad, but I'd be happy for Billy.

That's hard to write. I want him to still be named Poppy. But it's not up to me.
little_tristan: (Default)
Mark got sick. He does that when he gets stressed and stops eating. He stayed in bed yesterday while Russell went to work and attended the new insurance meeting. Short version: we're getting fucked.

Long version: they're switching to Kaiser next month. There are no doctors in our county that accept the regular Kaiser plan, which costs about what we're paying now. We'd have to drive an hour to Salem or Tualatin to see a doctor. Or go to an ER. An ambulance trip to a participating hospital would not be covered due to the ridiculous distance and would cost a fortune. We made that trip once last year, to take Willow to an emergency vet in Tualatin on a weekend. It was a nightmare just with a sleeping puppy. With a sick person--I can't even imagine.

Not to mention that I refuse to switch doctors because, you know, I'm all fucked up and I have a great guy here who can handle it. Who has been handling it for about 15 years now, thank you very much. I've never even been to a different practice. Like, literally since birth. My mom's doctor was there. He delivered me and turned me over to the pediatrician I saw for the next 18 years, who then handed me over to the guy before this guy. The triage nurse used to be the pediatrician's nurse. She always squeezes me in somehow.

Of course changing wouldn't matter much because I can't take a bus to those other cities and Mark couldn't drive me over after work. No one stays open that late. Just getting a med check would mean taking a whole day off. And if Mark or Russell were sick it would mean both of them stayed home. Either can drive the ten minutes to our doctor if they have to. (Even that time Russ had the inner ear thing. He drove staring straight ahead and I checked traffic at intersections and lane changes. Teamwork, y'all. It's the heart of Gilead.) If one is really ill and it's an hour/hour and a half, the other would have to drive.

There is another option, and it's the amazingly sucky one we have to go with. Pay twice as much in premiums. Well, twice as much for Mark and me. Seven and a half times more for Russell--from $20 a month to $152. Just to go to a doctor in our own town instead of an hour away. He said he'd take the cheap plan and just not go to the doctor anymore, but he can't do that. He hardly ever gets sick, but when he does he always ends up in the hospital. (When Russ does something, he does it BIG.)

Of course the bosses know all this, but since we're the only ones outside the service area, they don't care. It saves them money, and so what if my boys are the ones making most of it for them? They've acted like whipped dogs long enough, I'm sure the bosses assume they'll put up with anything. I almost said pay cuts would be next, but guess what? That's EXACTLY what this is. Another $500 less in their checks every month.

I canceled Tammy yesterday so the dogs wouldn't bother Mark. It was nice and quiet for reading, at least. I've suddenly lost the urge to write. That happens when I need a word-infusion. But it's dusty. Maybe I should get used to it. We probably can't afford her anymore.

At least Mark is better today. He feels so guilty when he sleeps that he doesn't do it enough. Also, the atmospheric pressure was weird. It's eased up on our heads some now. Russ is at work again. They're both going tomorrow. Mark's catching up on laundry and making a crock pot of beans for the week. Soon it will be shower time. It feels like Sunday. Tomorrow will be extremely confusing. I won't know what day it is forever.
little_tristan: (Default)
The boys got home early. The machine works so they're happy. Mark has to write some more software to make it do a few more cool things, but that's okay. He'll complain about the hours, but he loves writing software--which he taught himself to do--and applying it to his own robot. Also he can do it at home.

I thought of a scene for my new novel today but I'm being slow about writing it because I don't know what the next scene will be. Or the ending. The character who sort of resembles Sister's MiL and that other terrible woman who's a lot like her is being difficult. Partly because I'm so angry at the MiL that it's hard to write the character without her being a total caricature, and partly because the only way people like that can take over a situation and implode it is if you let them.

If I can't imagine something, I can't write it. And I literally can't imagine letting that happen. I also can't imagine being one of those people myself. So it fails from both sides.

I've spent years observing both those women, one as an adversary and one as a friend-turned-adversary, and I still can't figure it out. In my stories people tend to get along. That's what I understand. That's what makes sense. If they hate each other, they shouldn't live together.

I know, arch-nemesis, but it's different. He's just old and selfish and stupid. He doesn't have a medical history that reads like the DSM-IV.

She might disappear in the second draft. It might turn out that the story needs someone not so hopelessly evil.

I've cheered myself up with a Ding Dong. Now there's one left and I'm saving it for a day when absolutely nothing else will do. There will easily be at least one of those before I hit the expiration date on the box.

This is the stamp I pre-ordered for next year.

I enjoy the added poignancy of it being a Forever stamp.

little_tristan: (Writer Snail)
The air in the house is so hot and dry, it's contributing to a new eye infection. Contributing because it's mostly my fault for rubbing it so compulsively the other night. Should have used the drops instead. Luckily I got a refill on the antibiotic/analgesic ointment last time and never opened it.

Mark worked Thursday through Saturday. They got almost everything done. I think they're going to finish this Saturday. But he got Sunday off. We watched Resident Evil on dvd. He'd never seen it before. Then I went to write and he joined me to watch streaming SPN on my computer.

It's the first time he's ever sat with me while I wrote. It's so happymaking that he's actually supportive enough to not comment on all the action-packed man-snuggling. He says he doesn't read over my shoulder, but he does.

He didn't like my calculating and posting the word count. He thinks competitive writing will interfere with what I do naturally. I told him if that was true, I would still be writing instead of posting the word count and playing FarmVille until the last episode finished. It's cute that he cares, but he doesn't understand. Sort of like when I'm hanging around watching him work. Except my work is more boring. There wasn't even any soldering.

Okay, I haven't really done anything else. I finished reading Scarlett Fever and now the library wants it back. But I want to keep it long enough to use it for quotes in the [profile] oddlittlecat discussion. Maybe I'll write my comments today.

The library wants Children of the Resistance, too, but I just started it. It's making me cry. Almost everything makes me cry right now. I'm not sure if it's seasonal or if it's just having my emotions so close to the surface while writing.

New stories are always like that. They come fresh from the emotional center of my brain and the door is wide open until it's finished. Well, a little longer. It's hard to get closed again. That's probably good. If it hadn't been open a crack for the rewrite of The Dancer, the new one wouldn't have been able to escape. It just made such a mess in there getting loose. Now I'm sobbing over Criminal Minds four times a day.

It's weird that I'm close to half-way through and still have no clue about the title. They should have told me by now. They keep whispering about a play on the word "Mass", as in the Catholic service, but I'm not listening. It's too predictable. Jimmy can do better. He's also suggested State of Grace, which has a nice romantic ring, but I still think he's being lazy.

I'm going to do some Christmas shopping and give him time to think.
little_tristan: (Catloaf Catbread)
It was an act of pure desperation, signing up for the Publisher's Clearing House grand prize. It looked like a really easy way to get a million dollars. But now there's all this email. Every day. Piles of it.

But they did give me a great deal of Discover magazine.

Yesterday was remarkably fun. Russell was too tired and cranky for me to make him go to Sister's, and Mark was in an unusually good mood, so he went instead. The evil MiL was on the living room computer, wearing headphones, the whole time and completely ignored us. Sister's husband made dinner, which was as late as I predicted, but Mark had Big Bang Theory to watch on tv.

Sister even logged off to talk to me and we didn't even run out of things to say. After we left, I realized that it's been so long since I've seen her, she thinks we still have Steve. She warned me not to watch a movie called The Future (SPOILER/WARNING: it's narrated by a dead cat), and I told her not to watch Seeking a Friend for the End of the World. It was funny for the first twenty or thirty minutes, but the end had me crying for another hour. We ended up crying over it all, while finishing each other's sentences even though neither of us have seen both movies.

Probably we were both really crying because it was Thanksgiving and Mom wasn't there, but fortunately no one brought it up. It was much better that way than last year.

Then we talked about Jonathan Coulton songs. Unfortunately, she'd already found Space Doggity on YouTube. A 1000% NOT [personal profile] oddmonster safe song. But it turns out Creepy Doll is one of her favorites, too.<3

We also made all the plans for Christmas so this last minute thing won't happen again. It always happens. We were surprised to find that it could maybe be prevented by 10 minutes of planning. Weird.

I didn't get a lot of writing done. The morning was weirdly sad and chaotic, and in the evening I was way too tired. Possibly the first time I've ever been too tired to finish a sex scene. But it's better for waiting.

Now I'm watching Defending Your Life. If this was the reality of the universe, I think I could live with it. This lifetime has been pretty well dominated by fear, though. In the next one, I'll try to discover the movie earlier. I'd like to review my failings honestly and stop being a little brain.
little_tristan: (Kenny)
Yossel is harder to read than I expected. It's a what-if story by a man who missed the Holocaust by leaving Poland in 1926, the year of his birth, wondering what would have happened if he'd grown up in his Polish village. I don't think he's going to make it.

Murphy Sloane, otoh, is getting better. I didn't expect that. We thought he was failing due to age, and his appetite was falling off accordingly. Now that he's been getting Fancy Feast two and three times a day (basically whenever he asks--he doesn't take advantage), he's visibly plumper and less wobbly.

The only thing weirder than his willingness to starve himself for better food, is the incredible speed of his recovery. It's happened before but he's so old, we're always slow to catch on. The vet has told us it's normal at 14, 15, and now 17, but all he wanted was different food.

Maybe he really is immortal. *fingers crossed*

Mark ate and slept all day, too. He doesn't put on weight like Murphy, but his eyes get brighter. That's nice to see. And Russ bought him special food at the store so he'll eat more. He wanted something different, too. I wish Purina made a variety of People Chows. Dry for snacking and a dozen flavors of canned food to heat up and eat with bread. We could go for years on that. So long as there was still chocolate in the world.

I finished Yossel after starting this post. It made me cry. But I totally recommend it to Holocaust buffs (is that the right word?) and fans of great graphic novels. It would be worth owning for the Introduction alone, but I'd suggest that anyone who can bear the subject give it a read. If the dialog typeset looks familiar, Joe Kubert invented it. It's used in nearly every comic book I owned as a teenage collector.

Apparently he invented graphic novels, too. I'm not stupid. I've asked myself numerous times how much art and culture was lost with young Jews who never had a chance to develop their talents. But Joe Kubert nearly was one of them and Yossel forces you to see that in a way that almost can't be borne.

And all he did was draw comic books that changed comic books and their art forever.
little_tristan: (Gilead Gunslingers)
We're running low on balm. The boys are at work today, welding on their machine. At least Willow gets to go with them. It's more peaceful at home and she has a great time riding in the car.

[personal profile] valis2 has finally sucked me into jewelry making on a trial basis. I'm still collecting the findings for my project, but if the tools aren't too hard to use there might be a second one. Heather calls it bead-crack. She isn't wrong.

New books have arrived! I'm taking a break from long ones to read Yossel by Joe Kubert. My sister has always been a huge fan of his work, he's been a cartoonist and comic artist all his life, and as a teenager she wanted to go to his school in New Jersey. It's still frustrating that that didn't happen. She was truly great.

I'm still working along on my story. It's so much fun having a new thing and writing it for the first time. I've already said that. But it's still true.

The most fun thing is that the story has a set time-span of roughly three days and two nights, so I'll actually know when it's finished. A group of strangers are getting along as best they can, as usually happens in my books, but this time they're waiting for rescue, which will actually come on time.

Hopefully they'll have some fun, overcome some difficulties, and learn a few things about themselves in the process. Although there's always one who doesn't want to learn. In this story she's based on Sister's MiL. The trick will be keeping the armed guy who's based on Mark from killing her.

I really enjoy those two. I just ask myself what Mark would say/do if he wasn't married to someone who's related to someone who's related to her, and go from there. It's awesome. And he's a big help with the human behavior parts. Also firearms.
little_tristan: (Default)
Sunrise here, at least. It could be noon where you are. I don't know.

Murphy Sloane is eating! Mark brought home a Fancy Feast assortment and he took right to it. This means it will now cost as much per month to feed one seven pound cat as it does Ranger, a 70 pound dog. But it's Murphy. He has to eat.

I can't stop thinking about the scene I wanted to write for The Dancer but couldn't fit in. Now I'm thinking about sliding those two characters into the new story that I'm thinking about. Not as a sequel, it would stand alone just fine, but it would happen to involve them. That may or may not be a good idea. I'll probably throw some words on paper soon and see what happens.

Today I have to call all those people who haven't been calling me back. Heather's making plans to come out tomorrow with Tammy and take our VW out to the mechanic. It has no taillights right now, and an incorrect number of turn signals. We've made all these plans, and yet haven't actually talked to the mechanic about it because he doesn't answer his phone.

The dentist didn't get back to me with an appointment date on Tuesday and my teeth hurt. I hate to nag her since I'm such a bothersome patient, making them put out the ramps, and put me in the big chair of loathing. But my teeth hurt. And our insurance might change again. There's always a waiting period after it changes.

I'm going to watch Supernatural until everyone's open.

I forgot to mention that our fridge is fixed. There is water again! I'm even remembering to drink it sometimes.
little_tristan: (Fireworks)
Like many other members of Romney's 47% of Democrats guaranteed to vote for Obama to get handouts, we still had to go to bed on time so the boys could go to work today. The numbers weren't looking good when we turned off the tv. I missed all my evening shows to watch the coverage and it was very scary. I even forgot to tweet clever things about it after a while. And surprised myself by remembering after I was in bed that I hadn't written my MiniNaNo quota. Or even thought about it at all after the East Coast polls started closing.

I'd have got up and finished somehow if I could have done without bothering Mark. As it is I just settled in with the CNN website on my phone. They had a very nice little graphic page showing the electoral totals, and the returns from battleground states.* It was too intense refreshing the page constantly and watching Wisconsin swing in the wind, so I alternated reading Douglas Adams in the Kindle app.** I was able to finish The Restaurant at the End of the Universe and make decent headway in Life, the Universe, and Everything.

About five minutes after checking CNN for the last time, fireworks starting going off up the street. I switched back and saw that President Obama had passed 270, meaning I could finally sleep. Mark had asked me not to wake him up unless I really couldn't contain myself, so I meant not to bother him. Fortunately(?) the fireworks woke him for me. Honestly, I think he slept better after that, too.

Today I must actually write. I'm feeling somewhat failurey for punting yesterday and consoling myself with the idea that it must have been a good excuse. Over the last three months or so I've gotten better at thinking about things. I've entirely stopped staring blankly at walls for hours at a stretch missing mom.*** My brain is still too crowded, but most of the important thoughts get to the front for roll call on time. So it's noteworthy that I must be writing something didn't even pop in to say goodbye before shoving off for the day. Possibly it knocked and GOBama, GOBama didn't answer. I'll be sure to have a word with both of them after I take care of smoke, smoke, smoke, who is really getting up my nose at the moment.

This morning I found this man who said some words about infinity. My non-writing project for the day will be trying to figure out why anyone on YouTube would dislike him.

*I still think that reporters must've been paid for each use of the word battleground. I also hope that ambulances were standing by near college campuses to assist students playing battleground shots, as they were all quite likely comatose by 5 pm Pacific.

**It really is nice having a phone, a computer, and two well-lit books in bed without taking up much space. Imagine trying that twenty years ago. It would have been terrible for Mr. Sloane who, being a cat, is obligated to block access to everything at once.

***I still miss her, but now I can multi-task it. It's sort of a continuous low hum in the back of my mind, rather than a great grey emptiness that swallows all other thoughts. So that's a break.
little_tristan: (Books Not Blogs)
I just requested a book from the library and got a notice about reduced hold numbers. They're now limiting patrons to 25 holds at a time, to ease the workload on the newly reduced staff numbers. How can there be fewer staff? I think we had 4 full time employees. Less than that and it will be difficult to keep the desk manned and the tp in the bathroom stocked simultaneously. And it's only open 5 days a week.

I hope this rule doesn't affect the number of ebook holds we're allowed. It didn't say. Those don't really require people, though. It's interesting that way. Using a home computer to check out an ebook and download it to a device is literally borrowing a book from the library, the library actually being a separate entity entirely independent of human library staff. Assuming they leave the servers running. If the power stays on, we could still be borrowing books well into the zombie apocalypse.

I recommend you borrow World War Z first.

Tammy was over yesterday to dust. Since she was just here Friday (we're reworking the schedule), the living area (read: my living area) is still pretty clean. So I sent her down to the library where she once again wildly exceeded my expectations. I told her to skip anything she couldn't reach, but she got around the old conveyor, behind the dead wheelchair, even took down the encyclopedias above the doorways. I'm not sure my books have ever been so shiny. We're definitely doing this once a month or so.

Heather's coming tomorrow. Today is just reading and waiting to see what happens with the election. I keep thinking about the painful state of denial that set in when W was elected the second time. For a week I convinced myself that it simply hadn't happened, that the election was still ahead. It was ugly. At least this time I have the GIN BLOSSOMS to look forward to! No one can take that away from me. Not even Russell. If he gets sick or something, Mark promised to fill in. He'd hate it, but he has so few opportunities to do really nice things for me, he'll do it anyway.:)

My watch band broke this morning. Again. I love this watch, but I already paid too much for it, bought a new battery the same day, and had the band fixed in September. I might spend a couple hours on eBay looking for a new one. Even if I don't find what I want, shopping is fun. And I don't really know what I want, which is even better.

Maybe they have goth Hello Kitty watches by now. My pink one broke years ago.
little_tristan: (Gilead Gunslingers)
Mark and I finally got our new Gunslinger t-shirts this week. This one here. He wore his to work yesterday and reported a funny conversation with a co-worker.

Co-worker: What's that on your shirt?
Mark: (Politely) What does it look like?
Co-worker: Um, it looks like a guy running away, in a desert, while a guy with a gun chases him.
Mark: Yep, that's what it is.
Co-worker: Huh. That's--uh--different from your usual shirts.
Mark: There's more to life than science, dude.
Co-worker: (Walks away quickly, looking back over his shoulder every few steps.)

I'm wearing mine today, but no one will see it. Unless I get a package and the mailman makes me open the door. That could happen.:)

Tammy was over yesterday. She's becoming one of my favorite visitors, and not just for the dusting. She was asking about my books so I gave her a copy of The Bedlam Boys. She's one of the few people who might possibly like the sequel, so I'm kind of looking forward to that. I do wish people would judge Bedlam's Child by the cover. [personal profile] speak_me_fair's art is worth buying it for.

The boys are at work today assembling the new machine. They've been doing that during their free time (ha, ha, what free time) at work all week, but today no one else is there so it'll go faster. Sucks not having them around, but at least we got to sleep late. And they took Willow, so Ranger gets the day off if no one else does.

MiniNaNo is going well. I think I like being forced to write every day, but in small amounts that no one has to see. Of course it's only day three. And I haven't started today's yet. But the first two days were awesome.:D

And in five days the election will be over and I can safely return to FaceBook! And leave the house. Because, dude, I so don't want to know anymore about how my neighbors are voting.
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: (Otters Significant Otters)
The nemesis pitched a bitch over room temperature, as he does most days, because it was only 74 degrees and he was chilly in his flip flops and Hawaiian shirt. I didn't want to turn it up because I was wearing a heavy skirt and three shirts. It's October, after all, and this year it's the start of winter. (In 2006 October was summer. We never know which it'll be until it happens.) But I did turn it up, I always do, and got screamed at anyway.

It turned into a bigger problem when Ranger got sick. I'm not sure what her initial problem was but she self-medicated by eating dog shit, rocks, and those needles off the tree out back that we haven't identified. And then puking it up all over the house. She didn't care for the heat either, but the nemesis doesn't like her so her vote didn't count. She just slept against the front door crack all day.

Mark was closing up the house for the night when his dad caught him and ordered him to order me to turn up the heat during the day. They yelled at each other for a good ten minutes about heating costs and my right to be comfortable in my part of the house (not unlike his right to keep his part of the house at 90 degrees and make us pay for it), but that didn't count for much, either. He insists he only wants 15 minutes of extreme heat while washing dishes and flat out denied the two other times he walked into the kitchen that afternoon, shouted Christ, it's cold in here!, and stood around waiting until I turned it up for him. It's similar to his version of asking (How about some damn heat in here already?), but he says it doesn't count. I guess because I cut off the screaming before he made it a question.

Anyway, I went in there and ended it when I heard Mark ask him if he understood what muscular dystrophy actually is, and he said of course he does, he's been living with me for years. I can not hear that from the person who puts my food on the highest shelves, leaves broom handles lying across doorways, and routinely locks me out of the house because he can use the door with the key and I can't. If he refuses to grasp that I can't change my clothes when it gets too hot or too cold, he doesn't get to claim to understand anything. But just because we got to go to bed, that doesn't mean it's over.

We didn't give Ranger her pills or supper, the vet thought her stomach needed the rest, but we left the bedroom door open so she could sleep with us. I didn't want her thinking she didn't get fed because I just went to bed and forgot about her. But she wasn't very happy and didn't want to lick my hand when I said goodnight.

It got better, though. First because having her curled up beside the bed kept Mr. Sloane on my pillow much longer than usual. I do love sleeping with a peaceful, fuzzy cat in my face, but he leaves early when the room is too warm. Unless there's a dog present. We even have a saying for it, recited to the tune of shave and a haircut: Dog in the cat-room, oh no!

The nemesis got hold of Mark again this morning, waylaying him by the side door on his way to start the truck and sending him all over the house in search of a bathrobe which may or may not exist. The a-n says he bought it years ago but none of us remember it. Mark never found it, but he was late to work so the point was made. Stupidly, of course, as it's very cold in this old barn in the morning and all the heaters were on everywhere. But he wouldn't be able to torment Mark later, so he had to pretend to be cold and blame us for it while he had the chance.

Fortunately Ranger seems to be all better. That overrides senile stupidity and lets me say my day is off to a good start. Her nose is cold and wet again, which I couldn't help but notice when I got my crazy happy morning hand licking, and she ate her supper for breakfast. Although she did eat it lying down, which tells me her joints hurt and I ought to give her a pain pill to make up for the one she didn't get last night. Then we can be stoned and happy together.

Last night I was kind of sad about having so few people friends, at least in RL. (I understand it and it's my fault, but it still makes me sad.) But when I have a giant wet dog nose under one hand and a warm furry kitty under the other, it really doesn't seem to matter that much. Fortunately the world will never lack those two things.
little_tristan: (Default)
Everyone's been so tired and cranky and desperate to get away from the nemesis, who is pretending the other night didn't happen and so is not apologizing. Although Russell did tell him off pretty good, forbidding him to show any concern over basement activity (if you don't know what's going on, obviously it's none of your business), or wake us in the night for anything short of home invasion or an actual fire in progress. It's not that we're keeping secrets from him, it's just too much trouble explaining stuff that doesn't concern him, and that he won't understand, or remember five minutes later.

Anyway, I was going to write a sad entry today about all the things going wrong with my body and how scared I am, but there's nothing anyone can do but send love and I know you're doing that already.

So instead I'm going to talk about Argo, which we saw this afternoon. It was really good. Normally I don't care for Ben Affleck, he's too ordinary in too many ways to hold my attention, but this role called for a bland, ordinary guy and he was pretty perfect. Also, Bryan Cranston is always great and John Goodman was hilarious, so it balanced out. It could have been boring, I think Mark expected it to be, but they kept enough action going that I was occasionally on the edge of my seat, in spite of knowing how it would come out. My favorite part, of course, was the initial storming of the embassy, which reminded me eerily of World War Z. When the security guy watching the monitors announced "They're over the walls!", it took me right back to the zombies breaching the fortresses in Europe by climbing the bodies of slain zeds that had piled up before them.

That's going to be a movie, I hear, but I doubt it'll be good.

I'm not much of a movie reviewer, not like [ profile] valis2, who must take notes in the theater, but it was totally worth the two hours. And I'm sure I'll be researching now to see how close to reality it was. Just to keep the fun going.:D
little_tristan: (Bloom County cutter john)
Otherwise known as driving to Portland with the arch-nemesis. Interestingly, this will only be the fourth time I've ever been in a vehicle with him. The other trips were no more than 10 minutes each way and that was A LOT. This one will be closer to 4 hours. Hopefully he won't notice if we get extremely high before and during.

Actual conversation that took place between Mark and I on the phone a few minutes ago:

Mark: Just be careful, and--I don't know. Watch the van* and--be careful.

Me: Pet, don't forget. I have an iPhone, credit cards, and Heather. There's no problem we're going to have in the Portland Metro area that I can't solve with those three things.

Mark: Oh, right. Okay, have fun!

Well, I won't be having any fun, but I appreciate the trust. I'm still going to make a couple maps, though. Google Maps on the phone are awesome when we're suddenly lost, but printouts are bigger and more efficient. We're also going to try to get the a-n to buy us lunch.:)

*I think the van is fine but Russell insists it's going to drop dead at any moment. Mark never drives it and is easily swayed.
little_tristan: (Breaking Bad Walt & Jesse)
I'm not sure where I am right now. I finished the book club book on time, which was good. We haven't had the discussion yet, but I was ready and that's what counts in my head. And yesterday I finished Wizard and Glass, so I'm down to only four books on the Currently Reading list. At least three of which will get finished for sure sometime this year.

Heather was supposed to come over yesterday but she got a last minute invitation to see Alanis Morissette at the Crystal Ballroom Sunday night and was too tired to do anything Monday. But she was able to tell me about it in great detail, so it was like being there. Only without the hassle of actually seeing Alanis from fifty feet away and, you know, hearing the music. Because the only thing better than missing out on something awesome and fun is listening to someone talk about it nonstop for an hour. *sigh*

But it did give me a chance to catch up on all the paperwork the boys dumped on me over the weekend. They give me two kinds of work when they're around. One has to be dealt with immediately, usually with one of them standing over me impatiently or calling for updates every two minutes. The other is a cumulative thing that I can't handle until they stop producing it. Otherwise it would be like cleaning up feathers during a pillow fight. Better to wait until the pillows are all empty before starting to sweep. Or, in this case, sorting, entering into the software, and throwing half in the trash and filing the other half. So I did that and paid the bills that were stacking up. I can't do that sort of thing when Heather's here, since the kids never stop running and screaming and grabbing things and it takes both of us to watch them.

Tammy's coming to dust today and I'm putting her on the big desk so I won't be working much. I'm very excited about having it clean for maybe the first time since it's been here. And tomorrow Heather's coming without kids to take the old man and me to the hospital for his consultation with a vascular surgeon. Which he's now trying to blame on me, of course. He sat on the referral for two months and then asked me to make this appointment three weeks ago. Now he says he never wanted to do it and almost for sure won't have the procedure, but "you kids were so insistent". Um? What? I guess if saying "No one's going to ask why aren't you dead yet if you decide to prolong your life" is being insistent, then maybe. But no.

My favorite part is how he says he never asked for this consultation and I set it all up on my own. I reminded him that he gave me the information, otherwise how else would I have the phone number, but he just shook his head and wandered off. The boys say he always does this so no matter how it turns out it will be someone else's fault. Of course. Whether he dies in agony or spends another cold and boring Oregon winter in our library, it'll be on me because I insisted on whatever he ends up doing.

Maybe I'm good at this life and death shit, but I sure am bloody fucking tired of it.

Hopefully the sun will show up this afternoon so I can go downtown. I just found a stack of last year's Scientific American that Homeless Steve might enjoy, he likes reading physics, and they have a book for me at the library. Because I need to start another one.

But not right now. Right now it's time for my uncontrollably twitching thumb and I to go watch Criminal Minds* and wait for Tammy.

Is it sad that I dressed up for this?

*I wrote a CM fic a while ago and finally got it to a satisfactory point. I think. If you want to read something totally different from anything I've ever done in any fandom, it would be Everything to Everyone.
little_tristan: (Default)
The last 24 hours have been sort of an off and on anxiety attack that I don't want to treat because it would make me more tired. And I've already lost control of ALL THE THINGS. My books are not read, my prompty things aren't filled, my commitments outside the house are neglected, and worst of all, my dogs are not brushed.

Well, maybe that's not the worst. But it's bad because I could just go over there and fix it. But then my arms would be too tired to do anything else for the rest of the day and I would FAIL AT MORE THINGS.

I miss Mark and Russell. When they're not in Canby at their daily work, they're at the shop down the street at their personal work. They work EVERY DAY. ALL DAY. They're working RIGHT NOW. Then we eat and sleep and they go away again in the morning. Mark holds my hand while he falls asleep, but he always turns over before I'm done.

I'm failing at being married, too.

What I want to do is read Ghost World, which I can do. It's right over there. (Points at shelf three feet away that you can't see, but trust me, it's there.) And watch Criminal Minds, which I can't do because I don't have any more DVDs. If the postman had come up onto the porch on Thursday when I had an outgoing disc, I'd have gotten a new one yesterday. But he didn't because we didn't get any mail. A&E never shows the episodes where Reid talks about being a drug addict so I didn't know that was going on. There's a lot they never show, apparently.

I miss Reid.

My arms hurt already and I haven't even brushed a dog. I wasted all my energy writing this and it doesn't even mean anything. But I'm trying to catch up on comments since last time (only 10 days ago!) so maybe I'll say something meaningful and non-failurey then.

My cat bite didn't get infected and it looks good, but it still hurts. Mr. Sloane never fails at what he sets out to do, be it four foot standing leap onto a slippery shelf or majorly fucking up my thumb. And if he stays on the dresser all day he isn't letting anyone down. In my next life I'd like to come back as my own cat. Yes, I see the obvious flaw, but a girl can dream.

I'm going to go see if Reid is on tv. I miss him so much since yesterday.


little_tristan: (Default)

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