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: The full moon (blue moon of December 2009) (blue moon)
Came in to work to find that I'd dropped a ball. Panicked a bit. Got the ball back in the air. Also lunch with Purple and his table, and a bit of a debriefing with lb (and lb and Purple) and then Gramp and some guy who was also complaining about helpdesk. Fun with my inbox. Prep for 2nd Thursday. The realization that my period may be trying to synchronize with 2nd Thursday. #fishpile all over twitter. <3 <3 <3

That much-reviled phrase, "I can see Russia from my house!" came up over lunch. Well, it almost did. Purple opened his mouth, it got halfway out, then it met my steady glance and the words turned around and marched right back in. I sent him a link to http://azurelunatic.dreamwidth.org/2008/09/19/distant-early-warning.html for when he has an hour to spare. (We established that my reading speed was about four times his, as of last measurements on both sides.)

At around about the time I was thinking it was just about a day, Purple pinged me to say that he was back from the group dinner-thing his team had done, and there were leftovers if I was so inclined. I reckoned I might be so inclined, and wandered over -- to see that other vultures had been there ahead of me. I proceeded to demonstrate my skills at adulting by eating the bowl of frosting and cake scraps which was the only viable leftover. (Purple: "Are you sure that was it?" ... "You were right. Sorry about that...")

Around seven, I had taken the shortcut outside on the sidewalk heading to the kitchen to refill my water bottle (it's a shortcut because it doesn't involve the possibility of the awkward fat-human/narrow-hallway two-body problem) and got an eyeful of the full moon all rosy in the pink sky. By the time Purple had finished his bug triage stuff and I had finished my frosting, it was full black with a white moon. I looked up the time of the eclipse. I hope to be sound asleep by then. It's 2nd Thursday this week.

Sometime after getting home, I realized that I actually am not crushingly touch-starved like I was at about this time last year. When I was a bitty wee Lunatic, one or the other of my parents would tuck us in at night -- lie down next to us for a bit while we settled in. As we grew up, that stopped -- but every night, I would imagine myself curling up next to whoever it was that was my crush at the moment, and just lying there quietly and happily, sometimes talking to each other like sleepy chickens, and sometimes saying nothing at all. (Note: the peacefulness of sleepy chickens is not actually a reliable thing. You may just be sitting there contented with your feathers fluffed up, and then someone pecks you, or perhaps your sister steps on you while crawling over you for a better position in relation to the heat lamp.) This tradition kept on for a good many years. Lately, though, not so much. Sometimes I still imagine it, but largely I am concerned with my card game, or my plan for the next morning. Part of it is general changes in my brain and life outlook, but a not insignificant part is getting goodnight hugs* on a more-often-than-weekly basis.

* From someone who does not set off my "PEOPLE!!!" alarm. While most of the people I know are not the guy whose Free Hugs sweatshirt was last washed three long months ago (using barbecue sauce and essence of skunk as detergent) neither are they necessarily the person whose hugs would be welcome even when my brainspace is prickling and growling. Which is of course when I most need hugs. Ah, Catch-22.


Nora informs me that Dwellers in the Crucible has made it into Yuletide, and from the sound I made when she said that, apparently this is one of my extra special fandoms.

LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS BOOK, OKAY. So the thing about Star Trek books is, they are officially Not Canon, and at least originally, there was no particular attempt to enforce continuity between the books. Authors got to do basically whatever the hell they wanted to. And Margaret Wander Bonanno had some ideas.

Federation ambassadors have good-behaviour hostages kept in a secluded location on Vulcan, complete with implanted bombs or something equally unsociable. They're treated well, but don't have liberty, and do have the aforementioned bombs. The Earth ambassador's hostage is her daughter, who is a bit of a party girl. The Vulcan ambassador's son's career was of too much significance to allow him to be cooped up like that, so since Sarek is in fact a Vulcan and will behave himself anyway/take the life of another Vulcan seriously, his hostage is a studious young Vulcan volunteer. Ladies who are basically opposites. Ladies being friends. Peril! Lesbian subtext! Vulcan virginity. Sexual assault kinds of peril. ) I remember it as being gloriously tropey and oh so good. (I was also sixteen, and affected a "ruby" stud earring in the appropriate ear, and refused to take it out even when it would have been wise to do so. I bear the legacy of this fuckheaded decision in today's metal allergies.) My dearest hope for Yuletide this year is now that someone can distill the crystalline essence of tropey goodness free of the Suck Fairy dander that has doubtless landed on it during the intervening nearly-two-decades since I last read it.

This book holds a second dear place in my heart. I can see, right now, one of the ill-sorted cubes of my main bookshelf. Right between The Warrior's Apprentice and Hellspark is Preternatural, the one with the jelepathic tellyfish (Azure-blue, where are you?) and the thinly-disguised Star Trek clone, with the thinly-disguised author-self-insert, author of the tie-in novel Abide in Fire. Which, when quoted by some fan asking questions at a panel, has the same text on the same page number as good ol' Dwellers. MY FANGIRL HEART EXPLODES. (I would package Preternatural up with Deep Secret and either Bimbos of the Death Sun or Fallen Angels to form a Convention Shenanigans box set.)

So in conclusion, I would also be super happy with either a Dwellers in the Crucible fic, or an Abide in Fire fic, particularly one that included Karen Rohmer Guerreri.


XKCD shows some poll numbers about approval of interracial marriage and same-sex marriage. I got engaged to another girl in 1995/1996. It was not the most friendly time for that.

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Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺

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