azurelunatic: (Pacifica)
Friday: I woke up at a sensible hour, and did housework. Purple emailed me about the afternoon's beer bash, and I collected myself to go to that. I was running a little late, but made it at last, just before Purple arrived himself. I ran into a few people, and saw people from my old team sitting around the fire pit.

I collected with them there, and Purple soon joined me.

One of my old team had been going through some significant personal changes; she talked a little about that. I gave her reciprocal information, and my card with my real name, and the information to join the tech-slack. (Later, I would ping a former colleague who had done some pioneering work on that process in this workplace, and thank her, since it sounded like my old teammate had gone through a much better experience with the workplace bureaucracy than the former colleague had.)

She and Purple proceeded to talk synthesizer projects until she left to catch her train.

I will need to email my old manager about when to visit in the next few weeks.

The food offerings were surprisingly edible for the context. It was corned beef and cabbage sandwiches with slightly inexplicably rubbery rolls, some under-fried potato-and-cabbage fried things (tasty, but with the consistency of glue), various very green vegetables (cucumber, peas, broccoli, asparagus, and possibly more), cheese soup, and ... green hummus. No green beer, though.

It was a gorgeous evening, not quite too warm. We were joined by the Scruffy Canadian briefly. Someone who I thought might be the Cute Receptionist wandered by. Since I'd missed connecting with her the last time I thought I saw her, when she got close enough I called the name. In case it was her.

It was her. We caught up a bit. Purple teased me.

We hailed lb as he was headed out of the office with his deep dish pizza leftovers. There was a good chat, including some wtf-ery over a github thread that a new arrival in channel had shared (and participated in). There are some statements, such as "An SJW's work is never done", which have radically different meanings based on the context of the person who said it, and since we don't know them that well yet, we are uncertain whether this person is working for the greater good, or complaining about people working for the greater good.

There were dinner plans. I nearly accidentally left my phone in Purple's office until it tweeted.

Dinner was nice. We really should go to the Thai restaurant near the Trader Joe's more often, since it's delicious, close, and reasonably priced. Despite the bell peppers, prawns, and peanuts in nearly everything. (I am attempting to figure out whether peanuts take the surface of my mouth off the way walnuts do, because that would just be ... perfect.)

The Signal app has resolved some of its issues for voice calls, and my partner and I were able to talk nearly all the way home. It only cut out at the place that still gets me a lot on regular network calls, where 35 joins 280 by San Andreas Lake.

It's lovely to say a sleepy goodnight to my partner as we both settle into our beds, and go to sleep with the connection open, knowing that the other is there. I swapped my old Douchebag Headphone (the around-the-neck model with the earbuds) for one that purportedly connects to two devices automatically (it did not, but it wasn't a downgrade) and thus my partner got my old one. (It so happens that I'm the one who digs leading-edge tech, and they like to squeeze every last drop of usefulness out of old tech, so we are an excellent pair there.) They are enjoying it. I was delighted when I saw them in it, because the colors are accidentally representative of both of our favorites.


Saturday started out quietly, with various audio and video chat. One of the video chat things was marred by no helpful audio coming through from the other end; I should have reset when I noticed that it wasn't doing so well.

A friend just had some technically-minor surgery, and I had made plans to go over and say hello and congratulate this weekend. There was a little bit of plan-changing, but in the end I went over there in the afternoon and said hello and such. My aunt had stopped by with some fabric for me and some cashew butter for them. Due to the placement of the surgery, we kept ourselves to heartfelt arm-clasps and some back-patting.

When I got back down to the street, I discovered that a Very Large Pickup Truck had pulled up alongside me with its hazard lights on. Unfortunately, the driver was nowhere in sight, and I wasn't sure if I had enough room to pull out. (I was parallel parked, with a sedan nearly touching my bumper in the back, and a Prius a good distance in front of me, and less than a car length of space on the diagonal to get out.) I decided that I would make one try at it, and if I didn't have clearance that I was comfortable with, I would stop and wait for the driver to return.

It turned out that even though I think there was only one foot of clearance on each side, I was able to get out. (My partner cheered me on.)

I wound up picking up dinner on my way home. They did manage to get my order wrong, although in a different way to what I thought: I thought they'd gotten the wrong thing to the right receipt entry; they had in fact gotten the order entirely wrong from the receipt on down. The replacement was also subtly wrong, but I was not going to argue at that point. (My partner, who had been on the phone the entire time, heard my order and was able to verify that if it was a hallucination that I'd said that, it was a shared hallucination.)


The calendar sharing is going well so far.

There had been an incident. (My partner and I arranged a date; it hadn't gone in their calendar because they thought they'd remember it. Unfortunately, three people managed to step square in each other's complicated traumas, and it took a while to recover. With a lot of communication and crying.) After that, I shared my social calendar with my partner (not the full-on calendar with the specifics on the doctor appointments and such). I also shared the "shadow calendar" I'd made for them, the one that has their work schedule and all the stuff that they tell me about when we're planning our weeks. It's not yet time for us to share a single social calendar.

My partner has shared that calendar on with the friends they're staying with until the situation with the ex gets cleared up. They're not quite comfortable sharing it with others ... just yet. That may change, as the weeks go on.

Today, I'm setting up the week to come, and doing the various communication that goes with it. It's not sexy or glamorous, but it's the little bits of caring contact that helps sustain a relationship. I have to remember to translate the four to five calendar entries that make up one doctor-type appointment into a single block in the social time, ideally when entering it, but at minimum when setting up the week to come.

My attention deficit disorder was diagnosed in the fall of 2015. For a while, I'm not sure exactly how long, I've had to start with the actual time of the actual event I'm going to, and schedule backwards and forwards from that, in order to make sure I have a fair chance of getting there on time and in good order.

First I enter the event, with its actual duration.

Then I figure out where I'm going to be before the event, and figure out how long it takes me to get to that place from the place I am going to be before that. (It usually takes me an hour or so to get from home to any given place in the city of San Francisco; 45 minutes to get to old-work; an hour to get further down-peninsula; anywhere from 30 minutes to over an hour to get across the Bay.) I make a separate calendar entry for the transit time, with a little wiggle room.

I figure out where the next place I need to be is, and I do the same thing for that side.

I then give myself an hour's notice to start getting ready, even if I'm scheduled for something else at that time.

If it looks like it's close to my likely sleep time, I count back an hour further and allocate that as wake-up time. (If I haven't slept enough, I will use the wake-up time for an extra hour of sleep, and try to do any complicated prep the night before. Using a checklist, if possible. Sometimes this warrants an entry of its own.)

If it's early enough, I will count back eight hours from the wake time, and schedule that as sleep.
When it's a scheduled sleep time, I will have to schedule myself a bedtime reminder, which is an hour before sleep.

Sometimes, there's a chance that events will run long. In the case of my regular dentist, they've been known to run an hour late. So for them, I schedule in that buffer time. Just in case.

If it's a doctor appointment, the actual appointment goes in my bright red non-negotiable deadlines calendar, and all the ancillary things get in my main calendar. If it's not a doctor or similar, the main event goes directly in my personal calendar.

When it's something that's going to affect my social calendar, the fore and aft transit times and the event itself get globbed into one block of time that I'm unavailable for other events. Since my social calendar can be shared with people who don't need any personal details, unless it's a public(-ish) event, it gets described in vague terms. Dr. X at this address on this floor for this purpose gets vague-ed into "Doctor Appointment."

Stuff in my partner's shadow calendar get vague-ed up the same way. Why yes, my partner is going to X event at Y venue, there is a topic, and they're going with Z. That is "With Z at [vague description]." Or "Date with Z." Before my partner shared the calendar with their hosts, I scrubbed back through and edited a few items that I'd put on there, which had a little too much detail for general consumption. Even so, their hosts were clearly reading through past events, because I overheard Ms. Documentation read out the title of one (with some questions), and I promptly collapsed in giggles. Oh, dear.


There are two current crocheting projects, one of them started a while back. The older one is the penis-based sex ed hat, a sequel to the vagina-based one. So far I have urethra, bladder, glans, some ductwork, and I need to stuff the first testicle before I can close it up. (The testicle is blue, naturally.) I will probably put a drawstring or something on the scrotum so the testes can be examined easily.

The other one is a lace nightgown out of black #10 crochet-cotton thread. I'm putting #6 clear blue-green iris beads on it here and there. We'll see how long I take to finish that one. The beads are in a narrow prescription bottle that fits nicely inside the ball of thread.

I have been going back to paper to-do lists for daily use, and attempting to scan them into my image archives. I've started dating them so I have a better idea of how things went. It's been a fairly reasonable system for reminding me of what I need to get done, and I can move things forward in a helpful way. Sometimes I start pages ahead of time for stuff that needs to be done on a specific date.


After a week and a half of the new meds, I am encouraged at what they're doing with my sleep. That may wind up being a separate entry.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
It turns out that my dinner crew can get from "I'm not going to make this rude gesture because there are children present" to "Donald Trump could fist ducks" and it took less than 5 minutes.
azurelunatic: Axial tilt is the reason for the season. (Festive red & green text; diagram of Earth's axial tilt.) (axial tilt)
09:10 PM Thursday, December 29, 2016
Plan for Friday: chill with Purple before dinner.

Could also get half-and-half.

Thursday, I tested the UI on the daylight lamp, and found that it had failed to turn on this morning due to it not being intuitively obvious when something was activated, and also the directions kind of suck, and the UI also sucks. Perhaps it'll wake me up Friday morning.

09:18 PM Saturday, December 31, 2016
Chilled with Purple before dinner. Half-and-half (and other groceries) waited until Saturday. The daylight lamp turned on both these past mornings, and was turned off with a moan. Apparently the part where it wakes me up is too effective, and I can't be having with that in the middle of a sleep cycle. Also Saturday: Ordered a new phone, since mine is fucking dying.

Friday: I slept longer than I planned to, and then wandered over to Purple's. He was watching some keyboard tutorial videos, which were actually fascinating. Partway through, a cat jumped into the lap of the guy doing the demo and began washing his hands. It's a small enough community that Purple knows the cat's name.

We then watched Mystery Men, since Purple had mentioned it to me but we'd not watched it. It was cute for what it was. He paused at the business card of the weapons guy, as I'd gone "... Chicken rentals?!?!" which made some later bits make a little more sense.

Purple called Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly to arrange dinner. He'd assumed that she'd be working, because she's her, and had thought of a few places on that end of town. However, she'd been working from home, so those were no longer convenient. We settled on a time and place. There was a little more time left, so we watched some Key and Peele.

After that was dinner. We got there early. Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly was late, on account of El Camino Real had suddenly developed a hilarious thing where none of the southbound traffic was moving. My meal came out substantially underdone. At a decent place, I'll chance a medium-rare steak on occasion. I do not prefer to chance a medium-rare hamburger, and could have sworn I'd asked for medium-well. (Purple could have sworn so also.) We wound up getting some extra dessert, as well as a do-over on the burger.

Purple and I watched some more Key and Peele, followed by what he swore was a Christmas episode of Black Mirror. It was "Nosedive", and while the word "Christmas" was uttered, it wasn't specifically Christmas-y. Uniquely for Black Mirror, we found ourselves giggling helplessly by the end, and in a lovely mood. I totally ship it.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Dinner was just Purple and me, since his friend had the plague. We went for burgers.


Among other things, we discussed the difference between a douchebag and a douchebucket (unused solution vs. used) and whether a group of geese was a notch below or above actual pandemonium (literally all the demons). I voted that geese were probably worse. "Demons won't usually try to grab you by the junk and kick you in the shins with their wings."

Purple argued that since demons had wings, they just might.


I explained the way my partner and I get some of our communication done. We were on silent video chat and they were making a gesture that was meant to be sexy. I corrected the form. We can have educational discussion even without words.


We discussed how to get rosewater infused butter to try on an English muffin, which led to more silliness in the parking lot.


My partner called on the way home. The ex is still terrible. Whee.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
My brain has been acting up on me, and last night was not the greatest of nights. (I was, in fact, reminded of 1999.)

Then I went off to dinner with Purple, who gently observed that I seemed to be about half-speed, then held my hand while we complained about politics. He had a touching level of faith in the unwillingness of Indiana parents to not ask for their children to be tortured in the name of Getting Straight. And I provided some thoughts on the torture facilities euphemistically known as "wilderness survival camps" and their ilk.

And I got back home, and found that my sweetie's dating site profiles very cheerfully mention a primary partner. Me. I am touched beyond belief.

So a mixed bag, but getting better.

💙💙💙
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
I have a follow-up appointment and pelvic exam with my surgeon on Friday. Purple and I were brainstorming items that the surgeon would not be expecting to find when inspecting the surgical site.

Kinder egg (without chocolate)
Kinder egg (chocolate and all)
Toy fire truck
whistle
kazoo
Slide whistle
Entire Google car (full size) (we were at the Five Guys on Rengstorff, so there were lots of them driving past; I saw three simultaneously at one point)
Tiny model uterus (he already took one out)
A crab. (Zodiac Cancer.)
azurelunatic: a sad ginger & white cat, face pressed on floor. Animated caption: Not even ten dead mice can fix THIS! (10 dead mice)
Had dinner with Purple & Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly last night. (She disdains labels, but there are a few that fit well.) The topics of discussion included politics. Purple is the sort who generally holds most politicians in a similar class of petty evil, but he is sufficiently appalled by the president-elect (and was sufficiently appalled before the election).


But, this being our group, some levity must come at some point or other.
Read more... )
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Monday was a quiet day. I had dinner with Purple. It was unremarkable, other than the way I was a little sneezy.

A little sneezy turned into explosively sneezy and then my sinuses were an impassable wall of woe. I got approximately three hours sleep, out of 7+ horizontal.

Tuesday was not a great day. I realized that I should not be driving anywhere. I also had a care package to send, a package to pick up, and building plumbing problems. I made the best of it, and walked to the post office to grab a shipping box.

On the way there, the sleep department in Oakland called me to let me know that they saw that I had an appointment in SSF, did I want to take that appointment in Oakland too? I wasn't near the computer, so I had no idea; I wasn't expecting the call, and I had three hours of sleep. I had no idea, and very little vocabulary to put things together. I informed them to email me.

I sent a care package of old tech off to my Gentle Caller. The great thing about flat rate boxes is, it's the same price to send a small box with three bits of old electronics as it is to send that same box with three bits of old electronics, two plastic bracelets with a plastic recorder and a plastic maraca each, a baggie of glitter, and a handful of dark chocolate.

And that was only Tuesday. )
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
I got an appointment for Tuesday the 16th to make sure that my incisions were not infected. I learned that I didn't need to take my entire top off for these things if it was loose, that the incisions were not infected, that they weren't sure which surgical tape they'd used, but whatever it was, I shouldn't use it again.

They were claiming it was the adhesive. I disregarded the precised details of this claim, as the irritation which could be traced to the tape was only at the top and bottom edges of where the tape was and not the sides or the entire area covered by the tape. Therefore it must have been something in the cut edge, and not in the bottom layer of adhesive or in the bound edge.

I got an internal exam, where they peered at the stitches. The first speculum didn't let them see properly, so a second one was brought out. I had my typical reaction to pelvic exams, with a bonus former-cervical-area discomfort, as they'd disarranged the area just a bit. (Plus the bad reaction to overdoing things had annoyed it on Saturday night.)

They discussed the lab results. This is perhaps not the conversation to be having while wearing a shirt and an exam drape over your lower half. They discussed the general type of follow-up appointment I'll be needing.

I used the iPad to "scan"-and-email the lab results to the top recipient on my needs-updates list. I called [personal profile] norabombay and left a message.

Chatted with people.

Went to dinner with Purple (as it was a Tuesday, and I had warned him that I might need human company for after) and had various terrible conversation. (He is terrible, and should feel terrific.) We looked over the diagnosis together. I ... may have cold-spider-ed at him pretty hard. (He may have also held on to me quite a bit.) He also made terrible, terrible jokes. I told him about my typical reaction to pelvic exams, and how that at least had not been substantially changed by the operation. More terrible jokes.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
I am gathering evidence for my qualifications as Wonder Admin. This includes my principles for group catering, and surely more. (Anybody know of anything I should include offhand? Or topics for more Admin Storytime with Azz?)


Dinner with Purple and Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly. Next week is first Friday, so next week I'll see less of Purple. This weekend is unlikely to be greatly sociable on Purple's part, as he's pretty zonked.

Purple was running late. I didn't run afoul of feetball traffic. We poked Purple gently about his phone. It had been a long week. Purple diverted the discussion to his couch. (On which he has sat naked, he points out. I continue to react convincingly.)

The sweet potato fries with the marshmallows and so forth were stared at as an abomination. We did not get them. We did not have silverware, either. I was best-positioned to stare down a server, so I did that. "Wedgie" in terms of food just sounds wrong.

I don't have dates for the next set of medical shenanigans, but the next round of appointment-giving is due to start next week. Somehow, and I'm not entirely clear on how, this turned into a discussion of how large a Yule tree I could actually become a stand for, assuming the Yule tree went where no Yule tree should go, and not considering the actual weight of the tree, just the size of the trunk.

Purple has commenced conveying greetings to a remote party, on the idea that the remote party is likely to remain present for quite some time. He also made some truly terribly filthy joke which I wish I could remember; I had to roll a will save against telling him I loved him for that. I'm sure he'll make it again at some point.



[personal profile] norabombay and I were talking about the literally years of training that goes into the generally-women's skill box towards taking good selfies. I was thinking about it on the drive to dinner, and because of the ubiquitous nature of Beauty Culture, one of the unacknowledged skills that most little girls learn is how to make a pretty face in a mirror.

There's all this time spent staring at your face in the mirror and making it do things, making horrible faces and faces of every emotion and looking at expressions from multiple angles to see which expression is best for what viewing angle. But because it's part of the general background noise of being groomed to become a woman in Beauty Culture, it's simultaneously assumed as a given, and the level of effort and hours consumed are dismissed as important, because of course it's not important, it's just vanity.

I have no idea what my genuine, first-reaction smile like I would have smiled as an un-self-conscious toddler would feel like, now.
I may still have it.
I may not.
I don't know.

I do know that my smile, the way I hold my mouth, the way I hold my face -- all of these are the result of extensive training and experimentation, all with the aim of either "being beautiful", or with the aim of not getting picked on at school, or the aim of Not Looking Funny, or getting Bugs to stop being a dick. (Bugs was the freshman year boyfriend who drummed on my head. Resting Bitch Face wasn't a thing when I was a freshman, or he would have told me that I had it. He did tell me that my neutral face looked cranky, or angry, or something, and that I should hold my face with a slight smile at all times, because that would make me look more pleasant. And to this day, my "neutral" face is not actually neutral. It is a very slight smile, to turn my natural frown into a straight line.)

So, yes, it should not in fact surprise me that when someone who has not been immersed in Beauty Culture since the age of knowing the difference between boys and girls goes to take a selfie, that maybe it doesn't come out so great.
azurelunatic: Cordless phone showing a heart.  (phone)
Purple has a flip-phone that's about ... 5? 6? years old now. It charges off MiniUSB (not MicroUSB). Every now and then someone calls him "Captain Kirk" for using it. This tends to result in some parking lot improv.

Every now and then someone suggests to Purple that because he is a software engineer in the tech industry, perhaps he should be getting with a smartphone. Purple has a standard rant prepared for this occasion. The gist of it is:

Purple has a home phone. Purple has a work phone. When you find a smartphone plan that costs $100 a year, come tell him about it. Meanwhile, Purple is over here with his prepaid flip phone, which works perfectly well at getting him calls and texts while he is out and about; while he is out and about he is also not likely to need to be emailed, because he's generally driving or at dinner or in some other situation where really, you should not need email. (Also, in recent years he has added an iPad to his set of gear, and you often don't need a second portable computing machine at that point.)

Now, that's been the situation for nearly as long as I've known Purple. It's something that I've come to accept and even like about him.

Over the past months and weeks, Purple has noticed that his signal has become patchy. His noble little cellphone (which often does fun tricks like leaving the screen light on, which chews through battery, or failing to charge for some reason, or occasionally even pocket-dialing) has been getting signal in fewer places. First he noticed he wasn't getting it reliably inside his office anymore. (That chewed up battery.) Then there were other spots of spotty service. At some point, his prepaid cell outfit gently pointed out that his little old phone was 2G only, and the 2G network around these parts is going away. Soon. Now. And maybe you should get a new phone, bro.

I would describe myself as a procrastinator.
I would describe Purple as the kind of procrastinator who will cheerfully spend 15 minutes every week and a half to twice a week (depending on temperature) using a cigarette lighter plug portable air compressor to refill his slow-leaking tire, for over a year, rather than making the appointment to get the tire fixed or replaced. (I cannot throw too many stones. He knows where a lot of my stuff is hidden, too.)

Purple has allowed as how he will probably need to get himself a new prepaid flip phone that uses a slightly more modern cell network, and maybe takes a charger that more people are likely to have on them. He allows as how he may continue to put this off.

Last Friday at the ex-co-worker-crowd dinner, Purple invited his old friend GG (and her husband) as well as Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly and me. I texted Purple to let him know that I was running about 10 minutes late. I arrived to find that he hadn't got my text, as he'd no signal in the restaurant. Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly arrived somewhat after me. She'd become delayed in some event-related fuckery on 101. She'd tried to call Purple!

GG proceeded to give Purple a hard time about his Luddite refusal to have a smartphone, pointing out that Purple is a well-paid engineer who can afford a fucking smartphone and a data plan. GG does this sort of thing, it turns out -- gives Purple a hard time about things. And Purple continues to be his cheerfully procrastinatory and stubborn self.

I learned long ago that when Purple took a hard stance about something, that I was wasting everyone's time if I kept arguing about it, and the way to get around it was to accept his viewpoint and let him get around to it in his own time. Possibly by setting a good example by way of my own anti-procrastination efforts. Occasionally by saying "Eh, maybe you should get on that thing?" but not when he'd just been ranting about it.

Tonight I was halfway to dinner when I realized that I hadn't let Purple know that after we'd agreed on a time and place, I'd poked our mutual friend phone (whose favorite lunch spot it was) to let him know that we were convening for dinner and he'd be welcome. I thought about texting (hands-free, wheeee!) but realized: Purple wouldn't get that text. Anyway, I wasn't sure whether phone would be able to make it. So, we might as well see if he showed up...

I eventually remembered to text phone to let him know where we were sitting. He and his boyfriend showed up quite promptly thereafter, and we took a bit bigger table, and had a lovely time.

I may inquire gently with Purple, tomorrow, when he thinks he's going to actually get that new flip phone. 💜💜💜☎️🙄😘
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Friday was the usual dinner out with Purple and Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly. I had no idea where I wanted to go, just that it shouldn't be too far. Purple picked a place not too far from old-work.

The timing worked out such that when it was time to actually leave, there was a conversation that I was in the middle of that I didn't want to just bail on. But the other party to the conversation was aware of my schedule, and adamant that I should not miss dinner on their account.

We wound up talking on the phone. It was a good conversation, running the full course from the usual sort of daily grievances we discuss, to the sublimely silly. By the time I hit the parking lot (and got pinned in the car for a few minutes as the van next to me loaded up their kids) I was giggling again, and went in to see Purple with a silly smile.

I was a little spacey through dinner, partly as the result of nice conversation, and partly because I was still just very tired and quiet and didn't have very many things to say about Game of Thrones.

Purple and I chatted in the parking lot, as is the custom. I headdesked at him some. He was encouraging, and just enough of a sarcastic bastard.


Sunday was the birthday, I believe the 30th, of one of the guys from the ghost team. Most of them are based in and around Palo Alto, so many of their dinner meetups are on a half-hour's notice, which is not quite enough time for me to get from schlubbing around the house to out the door, let alone from Pacifica to Palo Alto.

This time, there was early notice, so I found something comfortable and set out at the appointed time. It was a place I hadn't been before. The tiny parking lot was overfilled, and there was nowhere to go but back out onto the main drag; you couldn't go on the back street and circle around. So I found street parking, and jaywalked over just in time to encounter four of the other five of us who were coming.

Three of them are roommates, which can often be entertaining. 2/3 of the table was playing Pokémon Go. Mr. P and I were the holdouts.

One of the themes of the night was scallops. The guys enjoy their seafood. They also enjoy their steak. One of the guys had been debating whether it would be scallops or dessert. "Scallop cheesecake!" I contributed, cheerfully.

The concept was not well-received.

One of the guys is apparently notorious amongst the crew for eating at approximately the same rate as Zeno said that Achilles chased the tortoise. Except he would have started off as the tortoise. This had the effect of slightly delaying dessert for everyone else. By the time he was in fact ready to order, all of the good-natured chirping from the table caused him to say "Cheesesteak" instead of "cheesecake". Hilarity was the order of the moment.

I ... may have a mild crush on Mr. P. He is a very quiet geekfolk who appears amiable and with a wicked sense of humor when he has something to say.

I got to talk with Dawn on the drive home from that dinner. It was good to catch up with her. I had a few things to say about a situation that one of my friends is in. They were ... not especially good things. It was good to have that conversation, too.


Neither Purple nor I were quite feeling the dinner thing Monday, so we decided to retry on Tuesday.
azurelunatic: A pajama-clad small child uses a rainbow-striped cruciform parachute. From illustration of "Go the Fuck to Sleep". (go the fuck to sleep)
It was the traditional dinner with Purple tonight. This is the day when I was expecting to definitely see Purple after vacation, if there'd been no other opportunity. There turned out to be a beer bash, but at short enough notice to Purple that it was too late to invite me. So we did dinner; Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly is out this week. Despite getting lost (got off at the wrong exit), I got there a split second before Purple, and then scored a table while he was getting through the truckfuck in the parking lot.

We talked about many things. The main thing on my mind lately has been a kind of heavy topic, and Purple is always a delightful combination of helpful, thoughtful, calling me on any bullshit he notices, supportive, and irreverently hilarious. We also discussed: the amount of work and/or luck it takes to get a suitable counseling professional; the parameters of "bro"; the difference between one-off objectification of men and the commodified objectification of women; toxic masculinity; the angry and terrible divorces of about 4 different guys in R's working group; marriage-related name change and how "Lunatic" might be a perfectly okay driver's license name but not a resume name; role inflexibility in formal power exchange; Purple's applied-ferret-in-packing-peanuts approach to pissing off Domly McDom types trying to establish control over social groups; that time Purple made the guy with the obnoxiously big dick leave a chatroom by agreeing with him; there certainly must have been other topics also ...

Purple started chirping me about my general liking for burying my face into his shirt and hiding under his arm, and pointed out that really, he was only six foot so it was a little awkward... When I accused him of chirping me, I had to explain that it was a term of art from hockey and not related to chickens, so therefore in this context it was a really bad pun.


Occasionally Purple is the Good Example.

Case in point: I have not in fact been counting the number of times that Purple has said something that would have made me back slowly off from an acquaintance or non-friend. It's happened. The fact that I'm not able to count is a good thing. If I were counting, it would be a count-up to some sort of unknowable explosion or ending. Instead, each moment is a new beginning.

Read more... )

I have not been counting the number of times I have realized that Purple is (still) more trusted than oxygen, more precious than emeralds, and done this delicate dance. Each time we are successful in navigating the issue, balancing our perspectives, and helping each other see it more clearly, he implicitly affirms that I have made the correct decision in extending the hand of friendship. I never wish to risk losing him over a misunderstanding.

We keep fucking up with each other. We keep talking it out. Occasionally, very rarely, we emerge with a fragile shell of a shattered trust and a bit of a scuff mark, and we're quietly defensive until the friendship draws us back in again. More often, we emerge closer to each other, closer at understanding our wide and weird world a little better as well.

On balance, it's worth it.


By the end of the night, my glitter eyeshadow had migrated down my face and neck all the way to my tits. Purple was amused.

We weren't meaning to, because we were both tired, but Purple and I stood out talking together for quite a while. He is amused by the state my brain's been in. I told him at least part of the story which ends with me raising a sparklepeen inspired by Twilight in the air and shouting "FREEDOM!" and then clinking it with a glass of booze in a toast.

Purple probably won't make it to the Seanan party tomorrow, or the Charlie Stross event Sunday; he's got some reading to do for the HOA meeting on Tuesday. Therefore dinner will probably be Wednesday, if it happens.

Some of Purple's hair got stuck on my lip gloss when we hugged goodnight. Apparently I should not lick his hair in the current state it's in -- sadly there have been water disruptions to his place which prevented proper shampooing.

Speaking of lip gloss, I think some exploded in my jacket pocket. This is going to be fun... I had put my hand in my pocket for some reason, and then realized that things in there felt ... unaccountably sticky. I withdrew my hand and rubbed fingers against each other, then reached back in. Yup, sticky, all right. I pulled my hand out and examined my fingers, which glistened in the dim street lamps and under the moon.

"What is that?" Purple asked.
"I think it's lip gloss."

It didn't appear to be colored, so I eventually reckoned that it must have been the transparent one with all the little iridescent glitter in it. Yay, cosmetic emergencies...


Something really hard to put my finger on has shifted in the dynamic between Purple and me, since he came back from vacation, and I'm enjoying it. I'm more at ease in his presence, more willing to be vulnerable, and delighted to tell more crass jokes of the type that make us both bust up laughing. Though occasionally they result in me turning beet red and facepalming repeatedly.


I've definitely been doing more Tarot readings lately. I should probably brush up and start carrying my deck more regularly. (I will probably keep saying this every day that I participate in a reading without having my own deck near to hand.)
azurelunatic: California poppies, with a bright blue sky and the sun. (poppies)
Thursday the 30th, I was finally feeling recovered from the trip (mostly, if not entirely unpacked) and elected to go to the farmers' market with Guide Dog Aunt for the first time in ... quite a long time. Our schedules have not worked out for that for a while. We caught up on stuff, especially all the fun I'd had at the conference. She really liked meeting Purple, and the sense of her commentary was such that I may have to explicitly mention that no, we are not in fact kissing friends.

Friday is the day that's often got beer bash and dinner with Purple and Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly, but neither of those seemed to be going on for the 1st. I had a quiet evening at home, which was still welcome after the hectic conference week. Purple is enjoying some jet lag, and of course first Friday is 2600. We'd had our Wednesday dinner so I was feeling sufficiently caught up to not worry.

Purple might have had plans for the 4th; if he didn't, I was going to ask if he wanted to come over and watch the fireworks from the beach. That didn't turn out to happen, but [personal profile] quartzpebble came over. We had hot dogs and cucumbers and tomatoes and cherries and blueberries, drank tea and bourbon (both separately and together), and entirely missed the fireworks due to staying inside with the food, fiber arts, and rapid exchange of information.

I had the traditional dinner with Purple on Tuesday the 5th, and we discussed many topics.

Now that the worst of the conference pressure is over, I've been commenting in more communities and journals again.
azurelunatic: the Golden Gate bridge.  (san francisco)
That was a really nice birthday!

There was stuff on the internet when I woke up. I love the Marmalade Fish, and my fishchildren in particular. I had put blue dye (and a touch of purple) on my bangs before going to bed, and had covered it with a scarf. I put more blue on the ends of my hair for a while, then showered it all off before heading out to party.

Guide Dog Aunt & Woodworking Uncle had been helping Infamous Cousin & his girlfriend paint. The girlfriend has some very definite ideas about color, and is implementing them full-steam-ahead. I showed up first, then my aunt and uncle, and after a little while (and I was nervous as hell) there was a knock on the door and the top of a very familiar head visible! It was Purple!!!!

Purple asked if he could help out; Guide Dog Aunt mentioned retrieving some folding chairs from upstairs, and proceeded to give some directions which even I (and I know the house) couldn't particularly follow. Purple looked super confused. "Cousin the Younger's room or Infamous Cousin's room?" I ask. "Infamous Cousin's." So we went up together. "I wouldn't have found it based on those directions," Purple confirmed.

I curled up at the far end of the couch with my crocheting, and Purple took the other end and stretched onto one of the nearby chairs. There was conversation and laughter. Guide Dog Aunt was very concerned with Not Being A Jerk with the food, and had gone out of her way to unnecessarily avoid dairy products. (My level of lactose intolerance means that I should not drink a whole cup of milk without the pills. I can add milk to coffee or whatever without having a noticeable problem. I can definitely have most cheeses without pills. Guide Dog Aunt decided that we should not have pizza because I am lactose intolerant and I shouldn't have to tolerate the cheese on my birthday.) Guide Dog Aunt somewhat guiltily said that even though I didn't deserve to have tomatoes shoved in my face, she had put out tomatoes anyway, because they were so delicious. I allowed as how yes, they were delicious, and I had no problems with food that I couldn't eat being present as long as it stayed in its lane -- now, if the tomatoes were exploding and getting all over everything else, I'd have a problem. "Or a bell pepper juice fountain," I mused. "Or walnuts."

Guide Dog Aunt zipped out of the kitchen and quickly reclaimed a large mason jar. She'd forgotten about the walnut thing, and had put some particularly fine and delicious walnuts in a jar for me, in addition to the chocolate she'd gotten for me, because the walnuts were great and she wanted to share the love -- having forgotten which nut I can't have. Purple snickered at that, and allowed as how his friends also forgot which nut he couldn't have, and would sometimes proudly go "We made sure there were no almonds in this for you!" ... which, thanks for the thought and effort! ... but almonds are delicious to him, and it's the wrong nut???

"Oh, which nut do you have problems with?" Guide Dog Aunt asked.
"Walnuts," he said.
"Matching nut allergies! A match made in heaven!" Guide Dog Aunt chirruped, and spirited the walnuts away from our end of the room.

In addition to Dazzle the now 10+ year old blue poodle, my aunt was guilt-dogsitting Micah-from-next-door, who is this ancient and somewhat malodorous foxy-looking medium-large dog. Her people were off out of state for a thing, and the last time she was at a kennel she refused to eat, blundered into things, and nearly died. So my aunt feels like she kind of has to watch her when her people leave...

R and JD showed up next, in fairly quick succession, I think? R was delighted by the pleasant temperature in Pacifica, as the South Bay had hit over 100F by the time she'd left.

Woodworking Uncle drifted in and out for a bit, but eventually wound up upstairs away from the assorted chaos.

Little bits of internet kept filtering in. There was an email from Darkside. "Ooo, email from [Darkside] in Arizona!" "What's [Darkside] in Arizona up to?" Purple wanted to know. I read the email quickly. He's gone from phone goon to bench guy, restoring the laptops of his co-workers to working order. Yay!

I told R the grim tales of Fishie's internship misadventures. R was super sorry to hear about it, but also, Missouri ("Misery", Purple chimed in) and certain types of terrible tech dude. Alas. :( Though I have given my Fishmumly Approval that Fishie should perhaps mention to Certain Terrible Dudes that she goes to judo classes to help with "her problem" with "accidentally punching" people who get in her space and startle her...

JD had brought games (I have decided that I am in favor of the kind of party where you ask people to bring games that they might like to play) and we played a round of Taboo before dinner. There was general hilarity, and it turns out that cards that were produced more than a decade ago have not blocked some of the modern helpful synonyms. ("Cable" involved me saying "last mile, internet, not optical older than that, xfinity, comcast")

There was dinner, followed by cake. Guide Dog Aunt had decided that with the number of people confirmed, there would need to be two small cakes, so there was a key lime cake and a chocolate cake. JD had the task of placing the candles. Everyone who was not me or JD had the task of lighting. Guide Dog Aunt had matches, and she and R lit candles to use as igniters. Purple had the bbq lighter, but had some troubles with it. JD was filming it all.

They sang. One of the slightly awkward bits with someone who has a complex name situation is, what name do you use when singing? Purple sang "dear Azure", quite correctly. :)

And then there was cake. Mmm, cake.

Gaming re-commenced. When he arrived, Purple had handed me a very small silver bag with silver snowmen and blue tissue paper, with a gentle apology for the wrapping, but it was what he had. I had giggled and put it aside. Read more... )

Guide Dog Aunt had said that there was a hard end to the party, because bedtime, so after the round that had started before 10pm finished up (after 10pm, of course), I mentioned bedtime. And so we started trying to get cleaned up. It had not been a particularly untidy party, so there wasn't that much to do.

Everyone seemed pleased to have met everyone else, and the refrain seemed to be "glad to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you." Purple apologized to JD for not having been able to make it to Eurovision. The Eurovision party had been more low-key than JD had been figuring on, as it's often balls-to-the-wall glitterenthusiasm.

It turned out that JD was on [personal profile] quartzpebble's way home, so that carpool worked out. Purple consulted the map on his iPad to figure out how to get back the way he'd come. Guide Dog Aunt sent the bread home with me, and I got my stuff (bread, games, bag, flowers, crocheting) loaded up in my car, and had a last round of chat and hugs with Purple before he leaves for a month.

Even though I've been making sure that my place is tidied to at least Purple-safe, the "I have to still do laundry and finish packing, but I guess it's mostly under control" moment is not the time to say "hey, do you want to afterparty at my place??" but I was just pleased as hell because omg he came, he had fun, and everybody got on. Everybody else, it would have been sad but okay if they'd not gotten along with my family. But Purple? Purple is super important.

I was home just about at 11, as my watch nudged me with the "hey, it's 11!" update as I was walking down the path.

I think Guide Dog Aunt thinks Purple and I might be dating? It's ... not a bad assumption, just incorrect in a few particulars.
azurelunatic: "PIE DOESN'T HAVE TENTACLES!"  (tentacles)
Open Source Bridge update: I am going, though #DWgoestoOSB is not an official or refunded thing this year. Woez. Kat can't make it either (alas).

Birthday prep means letting my aunt know who's coming, and this year seems much less haphazard than last. My sleep schedule is still wacky, but this time I was completely coherent by noonish. I even had time to wash all of my hair and do makeup (including glitter, now that I know there's no exclusion month needed).

Fishie is encountering some internship challenges. I have advised her to take *detailed* notes, and she has written an email to her mentor back at her college, who is offering various advice and contacts. We also talked about the concept of Being A Grownup, and how generally terrified and impostor-y I was back when I first acquired the fish. She had that moment of dissonance when she looked at how old her parents were when she was a baby. She also had the dissonance of "wait, other people my age are HAVING CHILDREN HOLY SHIT", and "wait, this person I know is a grandfather and he is five years younger than my dad NO WAY AM I HAVING TWO KIDS IN THE NEXT FIVE YEARS!!!" I reminded her that children and chronological age cease to be a necessarily meaningful concrete benchmark at a certain point.

And then I went off to beer bash. There was more traffic than I was anticipating, but I arrived more or less on time. I immediately saw lb and sfa from a distance, and hailed them. We went in search of Purple, but Purple was afk (and Mr. Bananas was plugged in to headphones, head down, and not acknowledging strangers by the door).

We all trooped up to R's office, where I dropped off a small box of papers and stuff. One of R's teammates told us that R had gone down for beer bash. So we went down and in to the cafeteria where it was cool. There I saw phone and hailed him. Then people of the group saw codepoetica, and hailed him. I introduced myself as Azz (because he is #cupcake); he looked confused. "ajl", I elucidated. "OH! HI!" he said, and glomped me.

We wandered about inside for a little while, looking for seats. I picked my way through the tables, avoiding the place where there was a photo op with some of the 501st. I saw R, sitting with someone I didn't recognize, and flagged down the rest of #cupcake. They came trooping up. I was texting Purple to let him know where we were, and looking at the spinning "lol your text has not sent" when my phone rang! It was Purple, wondering whether I'd arrived. I had! I told him where to find us, and he came to find us.

R and I had some shop talk over conference stuff. Mostly we have to get the videos squared away.

Some of the tables cleared out, and we took over. codepoetica was in rare form, and there was all sorts of giggling and hijinks. R wanted to know what we were talking about. lb let her know that no, no, she did not want to know.

* What if you had a whole bag of jello-molded hands?
* What if it was out of that sticky stuff that sticks to windows?
* A sticky hand with the hand full sized would have a really long handle/arm thing
* You would swing it around like a baseball bat
* well, what *else* could that gesture mean?
* "Excalibur!!!"
* if your dick was really that long, you'd have to sort of trudge around like a dinosaur with its tail dragging
* imagine a wilderness tracker, sort of a Sherlock Holmes kind of situation, and he could tell all sorts of improbable things from the track, like that it was a penis
* also how many tattoos and what color
* "I can tell from the number of dead bees on the left side!"
* "oh, I thought it was 'Because I slept with him last night!' "
* No more blowing bees at Purple in the courtyard
* getting abducted by UFOs because you wave at them
* asymmetrical docking
* M2MA (nsfw!!!)
* general anatomical improbability
* Bee dick
* Chocolate penis

The table started to clear out. R texted me to make sure that it was okay that she had invited Mr. Tux to my birthday party (of course!)

codepoetica and I talked weather and geography. He wants to get a link to the YaaS video once it's up. He talked about some other things that the same back end engine is doing, and I looked in horror at the two-day autoclose for low-priority tickets, the effect of which is to redirect some of said low-priority tickets via phone and no documentation, lest the motherfucker be closed over the fucking weekend.

Purple observed that there was a fleck of glitter on codepoetica's nose, glinting in the sunlight. There followed an interlude of codepoetica trying to get the glitter off his nose, us observing more glitter on his person, and the inevitable question "WHERE DID IT ALL COME FROM?!?!?!" I raised my hand. He had, after all, glomped me...

Sadly, he was not to be in town tomorrow (flying back on a red eye), and thus could not make it to my birthday party. His director and his wife had a custody argument over him, and he is not allowed to spend more than 50% of his time traveling. (He was mostly not a party to this discussion, he said.)

We all wandered outside, to split, more or less. Purple's director wandered past, and asked Purple to please let him in, as he'd left his badge on his desk. So we retreated inside to the air conditioning, and codepoetica showed Purple some of his scripts.

I will have to practice my non-profane ejaculations for the purpose of having things to say for YaaS that are emphatic but repeatable. I am taking suggestions.

Purple and I walked in the direction of our cars. (I park next to him when I have the chance, since he has a favorite spot and is thus easy to find.) He had security issues finding a key storage solution. I shared some of my hackerspace's recent smart lock shenanigans.

Purple will see me tomorrow. :)

I went to Fry's and found that there was a dashcam in an appropriate price range! Yay! However, upon plugging it in to my desktop and having google photo sync slurp the test videos off, I have discovered that despite the timestamp imprinted on the video being correct, the timestamp on the file is some 6 years out of date. Oops. I ... guess I am getting what I paid for??

I appear to have nearly entirely swapped over to the Pebble for step counting and sleep tracking.
azurelunatic: Polished piece of rainbow fluorite (purple)
So last night the box of one dozen starving, angry brainweasels immediately latched onto my face and started bitin' me all overlocked.

This morning I woke up, and on my way past the hall mirror, I went "... wait, how many zits is my nose hosting? GODDAMMIT." And just now, Clue is asking me if there's anything that I want to tell it today.

I hate it when this happens. The fucking hormones fuck up my mood, and then any little thing can just set it the fuck off, and I implode for a miserable few hours until the bupropion helps me reset.


Because I have learned that even when the reason I'm so upset about something is all out of proportion with the actual problem, and if it seems at all like it might be a legitimate beef when I'm not actually having An Episode, things go better when I address it -- this way there is less opportunity for resentment and misunderstanding and noncommunication to creep in.

Therefore this evening I asked Purple whether it would be possible to schedule a meetup before he leaves, if by some mean twist of fate he didn't make it out this way for the party. (And that I trusted his intent, but that bad fortune had a habit of striking his trips out this way.)

Purple reassured my paranoid brain that, barring some kind of incident involving bouncing off the repellent forcefield surrounding certain nasty public figures or coming down with something contagious, he would be there, and in fact he had rearranged his schedule quite substantially in order to make that happen. He's had the brainweasels before, and he doesn't like 'em. He conveyed sympathy.

Also there's beer bash tomorrow, even though it's also 2600 night.

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azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺

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