uffish thought

oh jiminy crickets

2022-01-20T19:18:20Z

My niece has tested positive for Covid. She's vaxxed and boosted, but she has a heart condition, so everybody's moderately freaked. Her mother, my looney sister (there's one in every family), is not vaxxed. She's not an anti-vaxxer or Tr*mpist; no, this is her own peculiar life-long looniness, in which she imagines herself to be a frail flower suffering from every health condition imaginable, which no doctor can ever find. She could not *possibly* risk such a dangerous procedure as getting a vaccination to protect her from a deadly disease.

If I sound angry, that's because I am. The family has been trying to persuade her to get vaxxed for two years to no effect. I can't even. I don't know, at this point, whether my niece caught Covid from her mother or from someone at work (she works in a supermarket, God bless her). But either way, my looney sister's irresponsibility just sends me right around the bend.

In other news, one of our fourth-graders has tested positive and the entire fourth grade is now in quarantine. I can't even with that either. The lack of common sense I see everywhere makes me want to hit the nearest available bottle.

I'm working from home for the rest of the week, not because of the plague, but because the heat went out in our building. Personally, I'm grateful for our ageing HVAC.

yes, I am obsessed, and other stuff

2022-01-16T02:15:04Z

Still writing, yikes! Just sent another 7K chapter of Identical romping to my trusty beta. *crossed fingers*

After three weeks of working from home, I have to go back to school on Tuesday. Both faculty and students are dropping like flies over there, and I'm not sure what the f*ck they're trying to prove, but I have to go. Fortunately, I'm pretty well protected from human contact in my office setup (in a small building with only 2 other people, and my office is at the other end of the house from them), so I'm luckier than most folks. But I'd be lying if I said I'm not nervous.

the obsession rolls merrily along

2022-01-09T07:41:36Z

I'm up way too late, posting the first chapter of the last Identical story, because I'm on an obsessive tear. But it's up, and now I must have a cup of warm milk and sleep a little. :) *crossed fingers*

so it's 2022 now

2022-01-03T03:31:33Z

In good news, my nephew's symptoms were gone in a couple days. In bad news, he still hasn't been able to score a test, so we have no idea whether or not it was covid. No one else in the family has shown any symptoms, and it'll be two weeks come Wednesday. *crossed fingers* Hopefully we've dodged a bullet.

In less good news, omicron is having its wicked way in NJ, and my school has gone to remote classes for this week at least. We don't have enough healthy/unexposed staff to open on campus. This is new, and scary bad. *crossed toes*

In happy news, I'm about 8K words into the last Identical story, including a Sex Scene That Is Mostly Talking Because These Boys Will Not Shut Up. *g* I toyed with the idea of posting it in one go, as in the old days, but I've decided that doing it in chapters is more manageable. I like getting feedback along the way, and it reduces the anxiety, and I'm also superstitious at this point and think it's brought me luck. So chapters it is. There's a lot of ground to cover, so it'll be another long one. *crossed everything*

Wishing everybody a happy, healthy and safe new year!

writing writing writing

2021-12-25T01:47:22Z

I'm working on the last scene of Snips -- a story I started in 2010. It is blowing my mind ever so slightly. *g* But the chapter should be ready for the beta treatment sometime tomorrow. The last scene is always difficult -- I always have trouble sticking the landing.

I've got an appointment for my booster shot set for Wednesday. Hopefully I'll get away with the sore arm and fatigue I experienced with my second shot. *crossed fingers*

I'm on winter break until after New Years, so maybe I'll clean my house and start the next and last story while my muses are still singing to me. *knock wood* If I ever manage to actually finish it, it will be something of an event for me. Yikes. :)

it's another socially distanced Christmas

2021-12-25T01:45:45Z

One of my nephews has symptoms that MAY be covid, and of course there isn't a home test to be had for love nor money. So it'll be another Christmas of staying home, and my sister running Christmas dinners to everybody. It could be worse. Everybody's vaccinated. But covid fatique is most definitely a thing at this point.

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! *good health vibes to all*

taps mic

2021-12-11T13:15:03Z

*waves* Is this thing still on? I think it was...2017 the last time I posted here. Truly in the before-times. I posted another chapter for Identical before dawn this morning. I've written more in the past couple weeks than I've written in a decade and I can't tell you how strange and wonderful that is. The urge to write again just came out of nowhere and is the last thing I expected. I hope *crossed fingers* it lasts long enough to finish the series. That would give me great satisfaction. But I'm taking it one day at a time. :)

thank you

2017-03-14T22:41:21Z

Thanks for all the kind comments. :) I picked up Cricket's ashes yesterday. Sasha has finally stopped looking for him and yowling (then getting into my lap and staring at me as if he were asking), which was breaking my heart. I find myself still looking for him, though. The past week has been rough. I'm home for spring break, which is both good and bad. Sasha and Domino each come and visit me from time to time, then go about their kitty business. But my lap has no permanent resident now.

Cricket 2004-2017

2017-03-06T01:07:38Z

I lost my cuddlebug today. He was the sweetest, most affectionate kitty I've ever known. He spent every moment he could purring in my lap. He would meet me at the door at the end of every day. I don't know what I'll do without my baby boy.

I for one welcome our new turkey overlords

2016-09-03T01:15:18Z

A family of wild turkeys has fallen into the habit of visiting my patio to gobble up (heh heh) the leftover bird seed falling from the feeders. They cluck and gobble and scratch like extremely large chickens, and fascinate the hell out of the cats. I managed to get a picture of Darth Katie and one of the overlords having a staring contest.

The overlord won. ;)

because it's been the week from hell

2016-06-16T01:53:06Z

And it's not over yet, I call upon my patronus.

That's right. My patronus will f*ck you up, mate.

and now for something completely different

2016-05-27T16:14:40Z

The teabag hanging from the hat brim is sheer genius. ;)

wow, you really suck, Marvel

2016-05-26T16:51:17Z

So...I'm sure everyone's heard by now that Marvel Comics just issued a book in which it's revealed that Captain America is an agent of Hydra. Yes, Cap is, and evidently always has been, a Nazi. And I could go on about how profoundly stupid and offensive that decision is, but I just read something that says it all so much better, and it's here:

On Steve Rogers #1, Antisemitism, and Publicity Stunts

So let me be very clear: I don’t care if this gets undone next year, next month, next week. I know it’s clickbait disguised as storytelling. I am not angry because omg how dare you ruin Steve Rogers forever.

I am angry because how dare you use eleven million deaths as clickbait.

I am angry because Steve Rogers’s Jewish creators literally fought in a war against the organization Marvel has made him a part of to grab headlines.

I am angry because the very real pain of the Jewish community has been dismissed since this news leaked on Tuesday night as “Twitter outrage.”

What she said.

I promise that my next post will be rage-free.

ETA: Cap fans are protesting by making donations to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. Excellent.

manifestos are bad and we should feel bad

2016-05-05T19:51:08Z

'Tis the season of fannish manifestos.

My goal is to pick apart all of those unspoken assumptions to show how and why we don't pay fannish attention to characters of color and what happens when we do. If you wish you shipped more non-white pairings, maybe this will help you understand what's missing in your current fandoms and where to look for something different instead of just feeling guilty and moping. If you're a bullying asshole, maybe this will help you direct your energy somewhere more productive.

Yikes.

Perhaps we should consider the possibility that an overwhelming urge to post a lengthy rant defending the moral rectitude of white fans in the face of reasonable concerns about representation is born not from a desire to enlighten, but from a desire to say shut up and go away, your feelings of being excluded and erased are harshing my squee.

In any case, 16,000 words of righteous indignation has adversely affected my digestion.

/done_now

happy holidays

2015-12-27T06:28:31Z

To all who celebrate. :)

a postcard from post-racial America

2014-09-05T20:51:20Z

Can anyone tell me what is wrong with this paragraph?

Mr Baptist has not written an objective history of slavery. Almost all the blacks in his book are victims, almost all the whites villains. This is not history; it is advocacy.

It's from an anonymous review (now withdrawn)of The Half Has Never Been Told: Slavery and the Making of American Capitalism by Edward Baptist, published by The Economist.

And I don't know what to say to the person who wrote this paragraph -- other than it's an extreme perversion of "objectivity" to attempt to find good in the abomination of slavery, a perversion that can only spring from vile and deep-seated beliefs in white supremacy. It's as brazen a piece of revisionist racist trash as I've ever seen.

CATS

2014-09-05T01:38:11Z

I left a basket of laundry on the kitchen floor.

Somebody peed in it.

I don't know which one of my little boogers did it.

But it wasn't me.

So it was one of them.

Or all of them in concert.

I am now doing laundry.

Again.

FUCKING CATS.

I love them.

BUT FUCKING CATS.

This sample of free verse is brought to you by the Number 1 and the Letter P. And these furry boogers.

Ruse snippet #17

2014-08-27T20:56:53Z

Trying to get back in the writing groove with a tiny snippet (1000 words). In the last bit I posted (when knighthood was in flower), Sherlock drugged John so he could hare off on his own.

There was no response; John was finally asleep. Breathing a sigh of relief, Sherlock slipped his arms beneath John's shoulders and knees and lifted him. Ignoring Jeanne-Louise's narrow-eyed gaze, he carried John across the sitting room and deposited him gently on the sofa. He then relieved John of Hopkins' weapon and strode back to the table to examine John's teacup. Over half a cup remained. Sherlock grimaced. "He didn't drink enough. He won't be asleep for more than an hour."

"Sherlock." Jeanne-Louise's voice sliced through the air. "This is a betrayal of trust."

Sherlock snatched up his coat and slid the gun into a pocket. "This is a well-reasoned course of action designed to resolve the case and prevent John from indulging in his misguided and unnecessary heroics."

"This was John's decision to make. Not yours."

Sherlock scowled as he knelt and started rolling up the small rug in front of the sofa. "John has a history with Hopkins that would prove extremely inconvenient if something untoward were to happen."

"So I am John's alibi. You will kill Hopkins in the church, then?" Jeanne-Louise asked coolly.

Sherlock snorted as he opened the trap door, grateful that Jeanne-Louise still valued the sensible if archaic tradition of the bolt-hole. "I scarcely think that will be necessary." He peered down the wooden steps into the small, dark room below. "Food, water, weapons. Still prepared for all contingencies, I see."

"For all contingencies but the mulish constitution of my grandson. I wonder if you will be of the same opinion when John follows your example. When he incapacitates you and leaves you behind to deal with Moriarty on his own."

Sherlock turned to her, startled into momentary silence.

Jeanne-Louise regarded him with a grave expression. "During the first months of the Occupation—"

"Grand-maman, I have no time for nostalgia at the moment." Sherlock seized as many of the library books as he could carry and hurriedly descended the stairs into the bolt-hole. The sharp rap of Jeanne-Louise's cane brought him up short with a sigh. Turning, he saw his grandmother standing above, regarding him with her most lethal glare.

"You will listen. During the first months of the occupation, many of the Resistance were betrayed to the Gestapo. Your grandpapa was among them. Our friends told him that he must leave Paris immediately. He refused. They thought he was mad. I thought he was mad. I asked him why. And he told me that he would not leave me. That I needed him, that without his protection I would not survive the struggle. Can you imagine the effrontery?"

Sherlock grimaced, placing the books in the far corner of the small room. "Did you shoot him or stab him?" He ascended the stairs, wondering if she would stand aside for him or trap him there until she had spoken her piece. Rather predictably, it was the latter.

"I told him that he was not mad, he was stupid, and if he ever said such a thing again I would box his ears." Jeanne-Louise smiled triumphantly, but her gaze was no less fierce. "He proposed on the spot. We were married that evening, by our friend Father Darius at St. Julien le Pauvre, and by dawn we were in the countryside. I was seventeen. I was a long time fighting at his side before I understood that each of us needed the other."

Sherlock sighed impatiently.

Jeanne-Louise pulled the braided silver chain she always wore from beneath her blouse. "Do you remember this?"

"Of course," Sherlock said in as polite a tone as he could manage, his eyes fixed on the simple silver band hanging on the chain. "Your wedding ring."

"We had no ring, of course. We had nothing. Our friend Duncan gave us this as a wedding gift. It is a man's ring, and never fit me, but even after the war I could not bring myself to have it altered in any way. I would not erase the struggle." Jeanne-Louise drew the chain over her head. "The struggle is what elevates life from mere existence."

Sherlock climbed the last few steps, annoyed that his height was of no advantage. "Excuse me."

Jeanne-Louise stepped aside with a grim expression. "It is impossible that you do not understand me."

Sherlock scooped up the last of the books and descended the stairs again. "Perfectly. You think I should allow John within proximity of a man who constitutes an existential threat to him."

"I might well ask whether John should allow you within proximity of Moriarty."

Sherlock slammed the books to the floor and climbed the stairs again. "Grand-maman, I appreciate your concern, but it is entirely unwarranted." He closed the trap door and replaced the rug.

"You are an obstinate fool. You are your grandfather all over again. Do you hear nothing that I say? You are both stronger together than apart, and John is quite capable of making this decision for himself. As are you." Jeanne-Louise lifted the chain again. "You will take this."

"Grand-maman," Sherlock protested, bewildered. "I appreciate the gesture, but—"

"Gesture? Stupid boy." Jeanne-Louise's eyes flashed. "It is not a gesture. It is a reprimand, and a remembrance, and you will accept it."

Sherlock grimaced and bowed his head, allowing her to slip the chain around his neck. "Will you accept this?" He pulled the copy of his will from his pocket.

Jeanne-Louise snatched the folded paper from his hand and turned away. "You have not heard a word I have said."

"Grand-maman—"

"You have not heard a word John has said. I am done talking." She turned with startling alacrity and, despite age, cane and fury, stormed away toward the kitchen.

As if on cue, Sherlock's phone chimed.

HE'S HERE.

Sherlock set his shoulders and typed his response. I'M ON MY WAY.

Sherlock snatched up his coat and turned toward the door, glancing at John, who was moving restlessly in his sleep. He was fighting the sedative even now. Sherlock fought an absurd hesitation. "I'll be back soon, John. Trust me." He turned and strode down the hall, his fingers curling around the gun in his coat pocket.

Coming up: Sherlock should learn his lesson, but he probably won't.

so there's good Sherlock news and bad Sherlock news

2014-08-26T15:07:57Z

Good: BBC Sherlock won some Emmys.

Bad: Moffat says season four will be "devastating."

May I just ask WHY? WHY must we be devastated? Is devastating your audience a THING now? Why not make them happy? WHY DEVASTATED? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY????

Is this all Moffat knows? Is he a one-trick showrunner? Where he treads is naught but dust and darkness, and he finds that good? ENOUGH.

Where is he getting this crap? The Holmes Canon isn't "devastating." It's fascinating and thrilling and touching and FUN. DO YOU REMEMBER FUN, MOFFAT?

No, no, you don't. It's like an orchestra full of nothing but triangles with you. A symphony of ting-ting-ting-pause-TING and nothing else.

No, on second thought, don't bother explaining. From now on, this is my BBC Sherlock canon:

It's fun! It's sparkly! And it has a mah-velous river view.

Thanks for letting me vent, folks. ;)

the no-good, very bad week

2014-08-20T18:05:39Z

Bad back, bad depression/anxiety days (probably connected), therefore missing work. Also, just heard that a virulent outbreak of distemper has hit my town, so all outside cats not vaccinated are in danger. I'm sure Rory and Dancer's vacs have expired by now. *sigh* I'm overdue for my own herd, too, but at least they don't go outside and have no contact with other critters. I'm in dire financial circumstances right now and was hoping to put it off for a few months, but I'd better get on it.

And I miss my mom. Constantly thinking, must tell Mom about that and then remembering. I hate my brain.

P.S. Why the f*ck am I smelling mildew in the living room? If my floorboards have finally given way it would be so bloody typical.

old friends

2014-08-06T23:56:46Z

I dropped off a couple cases of cat food with my former neighbor Joe, and I saw Rory and Dancer (the last two ferals at my old complex) for the first time in months. They let me get about five feet from them, and they looked wonderful, well-fed and sleek. Joe called to tell me that they're doing well, especially Rory, who has charmed another resident into feeding her chicken and other goodies. She'll even go into his kitchen. Dancer, though, remains a wild child.

It was wonderful to see my girls. :)

too old for this sh*t

2014-07-26T04:02:16Z

Well, Sherlock fandom seems to be going down in flames. *watches it hit the water* Remains to be seen if there will be any survivors. From what I've been able to gather, the Sherlock/John shippers believe themselves to be "oppressed" by those writing other ships, and have initiated hostilities on Tumblr, including this gem, which appeared on my dash tonight:

No one wants to hear about a guy that Sherlock doesn't even know the name of or some nappy headed bitch that nobody wants to fuck, not even Anderson anymore. Stay pressed.

Charming. Thank God I am not deeply involved in this fandom. It's a hot mess.

biting the hand that feeds you

2014-07-25T18:43:58Z

*sigh* Darth Katie just gave me a no-nonsense bite when I tried to apply her Frontline. She's hissing and growling even now. Maybe I'm just fooling myself about her adapting to house life -- I could never, in good conscience, let her be adopted by someone looking for a house kitty. I can't even take her to the vet for shots, because, hello, biting. I shouldn't have kept her. She's a Wild Thing, really. But after Domino adapted so well, (and because of the Evil Woman killing cats at the complex), I took her, and here I am. I don't know what to do now.

Also, ow.

Anne Rice, ladies and gentlemen...

2014-05-20T14:19:56Z

*dies* Troll! Troll in the coffin! OH ANNE RICE NO.

c'est moi

2014-05-08T14:07:54Z

Commencing out-of-order writing. ;)