Glacier

12/8/17 22:17
azurelunatic: The (old) Tacoma Narrows Bridge, intact but twisted. (disaster waiting to happen)
I feel very much like I'm talking about the things that don't matter, but the things that matter very much are private and inward and delicate, and to share such things widely would not be the done thing.

So: life bits, in passing.

The freezer (the thinner, left, door of the two-doored refrigerator) has had ice on the bottom -- at first just a little bit, and a few cubes that had fallen out of the ice maker -- for a while. We've had "de-glacier the freezer" on the to-do list for a while.

This morning (I think?) it hit critical, while I was -- ah, yes, it was this morning, because I was retrieving the frozen vegetables that I'd use in lunch -- searching around for something that turned out to be in the bottom drawer.

The drawers in this freezer are wire baskets with snap-on (and fall-off) plastic fronts. The bottom drawer was blocked from pulling out because the ice on the bottom was too high.

I grumbled, laid down the kitchen utility towel (one of the old ones with fraying and maybe a hole or two) and grabbed a knife for ice-pick duty. (My partner was unavailable for help, on some other unspecifiable but definitely important mission of internet mercy. Godspeed, friend.) Anyway, it would probably not have benefitted from two people. So I whacked at the ice for a while, and got it mostly on the towel. I tugged at the drawer.

The drawer shot out with surprising ease, given the big chunk of ice still attached to the bottom. I had words. I went for the cooler-bag.

It turned out that the ice sheet was attached to the basket by only a few wires, and once I figured out how to get it in the sink at the right angle, I was able to use hot water to get the ice off those wires. I left the larger sheet in the sink to thaw and drop its inclusions all over the sink, like boulders on a cleanly carved valley.

The ice had come out in one piece. There was still a little coming down the slanted surface of the bottom back, and a little more below the vent that disperses cold air or something. I swiped it out with a different kitchen towel that was due to be washed soon anyway, and reported back to my partner (after they emerged from their task).

The stuff went back in, a little more organized than it had come out, with a few things put in the fridge to thaw.

A generous double handful of the frozen mixed vegetables went in the frying pan, along with some bacon and potato. It would be slowly cooked into glorious lunch with cheese. A proper weekend brunch sort of item.

I found the strawberries I'd put aside when I got the big thing of them, frozen into a sullen frisbee sort of shape in the bottom of the round container. I pondered, tried chopping into it with a not-big-enough knife, then the brainstorm hit. I retrieved the largest of the melamine bowls (the ones with the lids) and popped the disc in.

Then I shook it.

A whole bunch of frozen strawberries make some gawdawful noise, being rattled like rocks against a hard surface, but it does tend to break them apart quite handily. I liberated a few to chuck in the food processor (an attachment for my stick blender, which I finally found at some late point in the packing, so it went in my Bachelor Kitchen Box) to turn into dust to grace the top of the lemon jelly. (Lemon jello plus shreds of frozen strawberry? RECOMMENDED.)

I also got some mending done this morning. There are some shirts that need their necks re-hemmed, plus under-layer shorts that had started blowing out at the crotch but were still otherwise in good shape. I had found one of the dismangled (a typo, but I'm keeping it) pairs of shorts, and sacrificed it for patches.

I will need to either repair my sewing machine (I dropped it while trying to get it set up) or locate the Sidewinder. The sewing machine still lights up and stitches, but something is awry in the bobbin winder. This is the second sewing machine that I've jacked up such that it won't wind bobbins anymore. Additionally, something else is wrong with the actual bobbin nest -- I believe some plate fell out. So it's harder to load, but at least it does still sew.

Kitten has decided that I am an acceptable surface to sleep on/against, and has started doing just that. It's cute, until I need to move, at which point she meows accusingly. Sometimes she settles back against me, and sometimes she stalks off and sits in her accustomed place on Partner. (Partner sleeps on their back, face up, sometimes guarding their bladder area with their hands against kitten massage even as they sleep.)
azurelunatic: Monkey King swings his cudgel  (monkey king)
My partner got one cat in the breakup, the cat who trailed them through the shelter while they were looking at different cats, and who lap-kittied at them the first chance she got. (I suspect that my partner got this cat by dint of having made sure to pack her along with the other important things when they fled the household of abuse. The ex took all the other pets, including the second cat who adored my partner.)

Miss Air Raid Siren had two types of notable damage when she was adopted: first, she had been front-declawed, and second, she is quite food-insecure. She cannot just be left to free-feed, and I gathered that it was a bit of a production to feed all the cats in such a way that everyone got their fair share. (Another of the cats had been a bit of a vacuum-cleaner himself, so it wasn't just her.)

When the ex's regimented schedule had demanded that my partner be home at the appointed hour every day to feed "the kids", all was well ... at the expense of my partner's labor, and my partner's ability to have an actual social life and do things with friends.

Now, this cat does appreciate being fed. She's earned a few names on account of her increasingly vocal demands to be fed, typically starting about an hour before feeding time. (Most of them are even printable.) And if the feeding is late -- oh, my. (Everyone has come to the understanding that while an hour late is no big deal ultimately, it's probably better for whoever is present to feed her, if it's anything beyond that or if she appears to be in any actual distress. And then tell the Human In Charge, because she will cheerfully make as though she's Never Been Fed, Ever when a food-giver returns home. Even when she's already eaten.)

So when my partner was living with Host Family #2, they borrowed some wet/dry automatic feeders (with ice pack) in service of being able to be out & about and spend the night away, without overly distressing the cat. This worked reasonably well.

Then they returned the feeders. They then tried to replace them.

Friends, do you know how very goddamn many nearly identical compartment feeders with a rotating lid exist on places like Amazon? A very bloody lot, as it turns out. And not all of them are up to the challenge of being worked at by a determined and highly food-motivated hacker-kitten.

Candidate Feeders 1 and 2 had a spring-loaded lid. Hacker-Kitten dug at it with her little blunt pussywillow-paws until the lid crept back, then held it there (somehow) and stuck her little face in, and ate extra portions.

Candidate Feeder 3 looked like the loaner feeder, but Hacker-Kitten batted at the protective plastic cover on the brain/engine core, and broke the manual advance button by standing on it, then dug it open despite the lack of springs and claws. Subsequently the thing didn't work at all.

Candidate Feeder 4 was the same model as 3, but I'd taped down the core's cover in a way that defeated the attempts to open it that way. After the evening meal, I put it up out of harm's way for the night, and put it down again in the morning. She ate her breakfast on schedule, but come 5:30pm or so and she'd dug the top around to the next meal, early.

This morning when my partner put it out again (only dry food, this time) loaded with today and tomorrow's meals, a little past breakfast I saw she'd opened the dinner compartment just a little. So I put it up, and sent my partner the link to the (not cheap) feeder I found that will do 1/8 cup increments of dry food and uses an entirely different mechanism. I'll put it down when I leave for my event this evening, then see what she's done to it by the time I return...

We're hoping that Feeder 5 will do the trick.

It would be ideal to be able to give her both wet and dry food on a timer (and keep the wet food refrigerated, naturally) for 2-3 days. But failing that, just dry food will keep her fed well enough that she won't be yowling and desperate if an evening out goes longer than planned. (Usually we feed her early if we think we'll be out significantly past her dinner. But that doesn't always work.) Provided she doesn't eat it all early...
Tags:

One year

5/8/17 00:46
azurelunatic: The Wizards' Oath from Diane Duane's books, labeled "RTFM" (RTFM)
One year ago Wednesday, I went in to the hospital to get my uterus out. The biopsy was a bit weird, and the standard of care said to just take the damn thing out. They didn't think it was cancer yet, but still out.

On the way there, Teshi and I got behind a landscape truck of some kind. I can't remember the exact name but it was something like Lone Mountain, and the plate said LONE1.

I was raised on the Young Wizards books, and I know as well as anyone what you do when you meet the Lone Power. "Greetings and defiance," I said, then told Steph.

I knew that as a warning, and I was not fully surprised when the uterus was full of cancer.

It's out. I've been irradiated.

I am here beside my partner in their bed, safe and warm and secure in the knowledge that if something weird happens, they or I will notice.

Assorted

2/8/17 14:34
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Space Needle)
So stuff keeps happening.

The temp gig was in Redmond, helping people who might sing a certain Barenaked Ladies song at this particular big-Borg workplace for the duration of a several-day event. The task was: helping them sort their garbage into the recycle bin, compost, or landfill. (You would think that members of *this* Borg would not have trouble with the proper use of the recycle bin, but you would think wrong. Liquid does not recycle. I ended up bodily guarding the recycle bin against mostly-full cups of some sort of weird lavender-colored, and perhaps flavored, iced beverage.)

Apparently last year the waste streams got super jacked up, so this year the janitorial contractor hired subcontractors from various temp agencies to help out. I really enjoyed the task -- I can play an extrovert, and since I got put on the magical sleep meds, I am getting enough rest on a regular basis. (Re: sleep meds, a chunk of people apparently get hangovers from trazodone. I am one of the lucky ones who shrugged off the hangover within a week.) The main supervisor was a delight, one of those people who has the gift of making everyone she interacts with feel like the most special person in the room. (Slytherpuff, I think, with Hufflepuff ascending.)

In terms of physical location, I am no longer even pretending to live at Bohemia.

Partner regained possession of their house about two weeks after I arrived, and I spent that weekend helping them return it to a habitable state. Open Source Bridge followed. I spent a good chunk of the time after OSB helping, when I wasn't making sure my post-move paperwork (car and such) was sorted.

The parking situation at Bohemia was both dire and pretty typical of Seattle -- 2 hour parking between the hours of 7am and 6pm except on Sunday, which practically meant that I had to leave by 9am and couldn't re-park until 4pm. (I could have spent the day moving the car around, but having been moved to an active anxiety attack at having spent 20 minutes looking for a parking space, I ... did not find this to be a suitable hobby.) Instead I took to spending my days at a public library. That was nice, but also ergonomic hell.

After my partner got their house back, I did wind up sleeping over a lot. They live in Suburbia; aside from what would be a walk that I would struggle with when my mobility is bad if I needed to take the bus somewhere, I like it.

Assorted neighbors have met both me and the metamour. Daddy Neighbor supervised as Smol Neighbor waved around a sparkler, and then decided that this had been enough for Daddy's nerves this glorious 4th. (There is a Mommy Neighbor and a very friendly Pibble Neighbor; these are the ones to the immediate north.)

After some discussion, I am now their lease-signed, rent-paying, month-to-month tenant. When the work situation stabilizes, we both expect me to find somewhere less with them, so we can get used to being in proximity without actually being in each other's pockets all the time. (Frequent sleepovers are still anticipated.)

The cat likes me, and has identified me as a food-bringer. Thus I also get the mewing and head-butts when Miss Kittan thinks it's time for food. (She is food-insecure, and cannot be left with more than one serving of cat food at a time, or she will eat all of it.) She of course starts to think it's nearly food o'clock about an hour to an hour and a half before it's that time.

Hacker-kitty has defeated two different automatic feeders so far. We may go with one of those puzzle-feeders; she'll hate it but it may provide her some occupation.

Names used besides her name include:

Kitten (she is a full grown cat)
Kittan
Hacker-Kitty
Loud Child
Miss Air Raid Siren
Miss Fire Siren
Kitling
Kitty-bit

Last night I took a fly away from her. Unfortunately, between the time I went "Drop it!" and got a tissue to clean up, the fly realized it was still alive and started buzzing the carpet; it quickly recovered. No word as to whether the Mighty Hunter, Slayer of the Fearsome Red Dot actually caught and ate it afterwards, but I did catch her staring at a shelf with unnerving intensity. Because cats.

Things are still weird and unsettled and needing adjustment, but it's no longer the full-on frantic "OMGWTFBBQ" every day.

And I am so happy to be sufficiently geographically convenient with my partner that when someone has had a terrible day -- or a wonderful one, or has a stubborn itch *right back there on the shoulder, no, lower!" -- that we can be there to console, commiserate, congratulate, or scratch.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Morning: feeding cat, finishing car registration.
Lunch: driving to Kirkland.
Afternoon: orientation for temp stuff.
Dinner: driving back, locating closed toe shoes and black pants.
Evening: catching up with Purple, sharing leftovers and various video content with partner.
Night: curled up happily.
Tags:
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
In a much more leisurely manner, belovedest and the boxes and the cat get to re-trace their pilgrimage.

It's been a super interesting day, yup.
azurelunatic: Scissors cutting film. NaNoWriMo 2004 (Home Movies from the Cutting-Room Floor)
For my birthday, I had a lovely Afternoon Out with my metamour -- sushi, pedicures, pastries and coffee, wandering around the mall.

We were then joined by my primary partner, and we had a three-party date to see Wonder Woman, which was fantastic. So much fun, lots of awesome women, and Chris Pine makes a great sidekick.

I am coming to Wonder Woman very late. (There's a very sad story somewhere in there, of what I think was a movie book for some female superhero, which was on the book racks in my 4th grade classroom. It looked interesting, so I picked it up to read. It would have been at most a 45 minute time investment. Unfortunately, the movie itself was apparently deeply uncool, and reading the large-format with-pictures book of the movie was even more dorky. Which some young dickheads in my class promptly noticed, and mocked me for. Which ended my brief interest in the idea of comics at all.)

Lynda Carter, the original Wonder Woman, came to talk at Virtual Hammer one day. It was an amazing experience, and an honor to be in the same room. Of particular note was the engineer standing up, clutching her Wonder Woman lunchbox, and tearfully thanking her for being a successful woman who looked like her; Wonder Woman had given her the strength as a little girl to follow her passions. (Upon seeing that, a nearby male engineer who had drawn one of the golden tickets surrendered it: it would have been an interchangeable experience for him, but a lifelong dream realized for her.)

I kind of took the movie in as huge globs of thick awesome: the island! the women! the training! OMG THE OUTSIDER! and went from there.

My partner was sitting in the middle, and as such was getting fed treats from either side, and getting whispers from either side. At a certain point, after there had been screen time for a particular character, I had a thought, and whispered it. "I fear it would be too subtle for [a large loud comic book franchise movie] if [SPOILER] were really [SPOILER]." My partner threw their head back and laughed, and agreed: probably too subtle.

WELP.


It's also amazing to have a superhero storyline with such a nice balance of fire and kindness. Wonder Woman is going to straight-up stab people. But she's going to see what else works, first. That's her whole concept. It's lovely.

The Girls Interrupting podcast had a little episode on the movie, and they talked about a thing from one of their favorite comics. Read more... )

In my own life, I aspire to be more like Wonder Woman, to extend a hand before straight-up stabbing -- but not waste time when it's actually clear that extending your hand is going to get it sliced off. And I think I've been falling behind on self-examination. I need to make more moments where it's just me. No matter how honest I am with my trusted friends, there's always the temptation to try to make myself look better than I know in my heart that I actually am. I can help solve that by narrowing the audience. I can widen it later if I like. It's scary to write down some of the things, but if I write them down, that means there's more room in my head for the important things. Kindness. Truth. The willingness to straight-up stab Nazis.

Moved!

4/6/17 09:39
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Seattle)
It's been a long strange trip, but I'm safely(?) in Seattle. (Westlake, for those who care about neighborhood. Same building as my sister, shared kitchen, bath, laundry, common room. It is officially Bohemia, due to the recording studio in the same building. A state of the art, digital, virtual interactive studio. Probably. I hear rapping out of it of an evening, which is a comforting sound.)

The vagaries of Seattle parking are making me feel very insecure (thus the parenthetical note on the safety), but I have my room, I have my temporary license (helpfully stapled to my punched-out California license, and carefully folded to not crease the scannable bit), and the majority of the stuff from my car is in the room and starting to be unpacked or put away.

I have reunited with my partner, and they and Tay helped unload the car swiftly.

I woke up this morning to find that my sister had left a birthday gift -- a lovely blue glass charm against the evil eye, a rose quartz bracelet, a finger reflexology ring, a cookie, and a small bag of what I first thought might be square green buttons in a kind of mossy quartz color, but upon examination turned out to most likely be chewing gum, possibly from the shop up the street.

After I finish breakfast, it'll be time to shower, dress, and head over to see the metamour. We're to be wandering about the mall getting pedicures and such, followed by a Wonder Woman date with our partner.

Right now the charm against the Evil Eye is on my phone, but upon reflection, perhaps it needs to go on Vash.

(Vash is the car, named for Vash the Stampede. His original Arizona license plate had the letters VSH, so it was inevitable.)
azurelunatic: The (old) Tacoma Narrows Bridge, intact but twisted. (Tacoma)
Once I move at the beginning of June, there will be a new local set of people.


Me: y'all know me. Lunatic, infovore. Gender: no thank you. Pronoun set: plural-they.

Partner: a witty, kind geekfolk, fascinated by books and shows and links and sports and hardware and eking every last ounce of usefulness out of old gear. I have known them for about 10 years at this point. Infovore. Gender: has a lot of oppressive constructs which should be BURNED THE FUCK DOWN while not endangering the vulnerable folks who depend on some of its supportive ones. Pronoun set: anonymous-they.

Metamour: has been seeing my partner since February-ish. Met them over a game of CAH; knew they had to be friends when they had pretty much the same answer. Witty, beautiful. Likes baking. Gender: woman. Pronoun set: she/her.

Tay-Tay: my younger (biological) sister, and soon to be my roommate. I say she is my "baby" sister but she's actually a year older than my partner. Violinist and general ball of energy. Short and tiny; I can kind of lift her in one arm so she can be on eye level with my partner. Gender: probably woman-ish and she likes kicking over gender norms and dancing on top. Pronoun set: she/her.

The Kitten: a small, loud, grey indoor lap cat who loves my partner and will punch people who try to pet her without her permission. Previous owners declawed her. She is food-insecure, and cannot be left to free-feed. She's antisocial to other cats. She does not like Master Jerkface very much at all. She is most often found perched on the back of my partner's desk chair and getting hair on their jacket, on my partner's lap with her tail in their face demanding to be petted, or on top of them when they're asleep.

Master Jerkface (and other equally unflattering nicknames): the abusive ex of my beloved partner. I hope to not meet them. Gender: they have one. Pronoun set: as used here, anonymous-they.

The Man-Child: Tay's boyfriend, who I didn't hear about in the context of a Relationship until September 2016, literally as I was coming back from the Oakland radiation oncology department. Musician, outdoorsy hiker type. A few decades too old for man-childishness to be excused. Gender: man, probably. Pronoun set: he/him.


Team Partner: a bunch of people who came together to help my partner in their hour of need. They include:

an old internet friend of mine who reads the Vorkosigan books
their wife
a friend of theirs

The first hosts: one of my partner's former co-workers who went into tech and her husband

The second hosts: another co-worker-ish person and her husband


Assorted now-local friends of mine include:

Mr. Zune: a former co-worker from Virtual Hammer who is now at the SEA-TAC outpost as his career was portable
Mr. Zune's Girlfriend: got a dream job in the Seattle area

[livejournal.com profile] tygerr: an old friend and Listee
[livejournal.com profile] tygerr's wife: an excellent and fun geek lady

Carnelian: a friend of mine from the late 90s; we had various different paths in life but now we're talking again and comparing notes.
Terezi: Carnelian's daughter, who infamously needed two stacked baby gates to keep her contained as a toddler. Now a proud teenage tumblr bb. (I haven't seen her in Many Years, but I'm likely to run into her more often now.)

Various #dw, #dw_kvetch, and #lj_s folk!!!
azurelunatic: Blue-iced cupcake with sprinkles.  (cupcake)
Friday was more boxes. Putting olives and pineapple and a few other things in a sturdy box half-filled it, but it was already heavy enough. I made up the rest of the space with dry noodle soup cups: not easily crushed, but hella light.

It was beer bash day at Virtual Hammer, and my last one. My former manager's last day had been the week before (onward and upward). I was skeptical of the food choices, as the theme was "pizza party", and I was aware of what the "catering pizza" was like.

By 2pm, when the maintenance guy hadn't shown up for the pre-departure inspection, I called the office. I didn't want to miss beer bash. He came through at 2:45. No major issues, and maybe X place would be good for the moving pod, but it was a hard problem. (In this case, "major issues" is holes in walls, destroyed appliances, etc. I am sure there will be "minor issues".)

I headed for beer bash, slightly melancholy. (My partner urged me to try for not too much sadness.) I chatted with Nora, of course. I walked briskly up the path, but paused at the duck pond to take a few last pictures.

The duck pond at Virtual Hammer, glowing in the sunlight (with a certain amount of algae bloom).

Purple called just about then, as he was about a hundred meters behind me and wanted to catch up. He had a new-ish teammate with him, someone of a delightfully compatible sense of humor.

We grabbed some pizza (fortunately, there was sufficient pepperoni pizza, as the veggie pizza was laced with bell pepper), and contemplated the desserts.

1) Streusel pizza, an uninspiring-looking cinnamon-sugar crumb on something flat and pale.
2) Brownie pizza, with toasted mini marshmallows and peanut butter cups.
3) Popcorn with some red coating on it; this would prove to be mostly spicy.
4) Cookie pizza, chocolate chip with frosting, coconut shreds, and walnuts on top.

#1 looked like a waste of carbohydrate. #3 looked like not-dessert (and upon tasting, was indeed not-dessert).
I texted my partner with the descriptions of #2 and #4, and got back some incredulous punctuation. I loathe peanut butter, and have an oral hypersensitivity reaction to walnuts. (It burns and the lining of my mouth peels off. It's great.) My partner has complementary reactions: oral hypersensitivity to peanuts, and loathes walnuts.

Purple and his teammate and I had a lovely time in one of the tucked-away back tables. There was a lovely view out the windows. We talked about squirrels (Purple's noticed that modern squirrels know how to freeze and duck for cars), bees (Purple's childhood home had a prodigious amount of comb removed from a wall), the nature of "Netflix and Chill", and other such things.

Eventually, Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly called, and we figured out dinner. I spotted the cute receptionist across the upper quad, and said goodbye. We wandered back down to the lower quad, and Purple wrapped up. I dropped some spare buttons from the 2015 department conference, because I didn't really need that many as keepsakes, and someone at work might think they were cool.

We headed off for dinner. Goodbye, campus in the hills. You were beautiful, and I met so many lovely people there. Perhaps I'll visit again someday.

Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly had been delayed in leaving for dinner, because as she was heading out, there was a machine overheating, so she'd had to spray the fans with compressed air and such. I was careful to avoid "blowing" jokes at first. The restaurant had the air conditioning cranked up high, which had likely been appropriate in the heat of the day, but was less and less appropriate as the air cooled. I put on my jacket. Purple ran out to his car to grab his button-down shirt.

The on-table tablet thing behaved itself this time, by which I mean Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly was able to look at the drinks menu and pick out something, and then we were able to aim it away from us without it blinking. I got a sip of Purple's drink, which was just about the right amount. (Two would have been an okay amount too, but it was a little sour for me.)

Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly has picked up a new online game, where she is now known as "Finger." Most of the obvious jokes were less made than they were implied. She observed that it's very important to not (as someone had) leave the punctuation out of the greeting "Finger, my friend!" What happened was that she'd joined the game and picked a nickname; some dick had immediately taken offense to her basic existence. She'd argued that this was the internet, perhaps she didn't exist at all! Perhaps she was just a disembodied finger, typing. And thus her new name.

Purple walked me to my car. We chatted about this and that, and the move. I'll be fine. I tend to pre-react, rather than post-react. (Purple post-reacts.) My partner and I have good communications. I'll be sad to leave California, but not heartbroken like I was about leaving Darkside.

We set the date and time for our last dinner: Tuesday night, in the hole-in-the-wall Mediterranean place where they treat us like family. I'll want to say goodbye there, too.
azurelunatic: A baji-naji symbol.  (baji-naji)
For reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, I started contemplating the components that make up an effective apology to me. There are the "five apology languages", which are siblings of the "five love languages", or something. That's interesting, but it isn't quite what I'm looking for.

What am I looking for?

a) Acknowledgment of the effect, and regret. (Regret is one of the apology languages.) Something happened and I was hurt; in an intimate and trustworthy relationship, I want them to know how I was hurt, and why it was hurtful. (Late to an event, hurt feelings, stubbed toe, irritated, etc.) Since they need to care for my well-being, I feel that it's appropriate that they regret my well-being was affected.
(In an untrustworthy relationship, giving them more information on how they have hurt me just gives them ammunition to hurt me further. If you find in your life that there are people where you don't want to let them know that you are hurt or how, contemplate your options for reducing those people's access to you.)

b) Root-cause analysis. What are the factors that led to this happening? Some are the responsibility of the person. (Accepting responsibility is one of the apology languages.) Sometimes there are factors that are nobody's responsibility, or are the responsibility of entities who are in no position to have things changed as a result of the incident. (A terrible day at the DMV is not likely to be solved by anyone saying "Hey, this was terrible.")

c) Making restitution, if appropriate. (Making restitution is one of the apology languages.) A date can often be rescheduled. Doing something nice and out of the ordinary is a mood-lifter. Fixing or replacing the broken thing. Sometimes there isn't really anything that can be done to make it better, and that probably should be acknowledged.

d) Failure prevention. (In the listed apology languages, "genuinely repenting" seems to fit this the closest.) With root-cause analysis and knowledge of the effects, we can use those to plan to avoid circumstances where this comes up again, and make a plan for mitigating the effects if it does come up again.


In my present primary relationship, my partner always genuinely regrets the hurt. They don't always understand why it was hurtful, so that portion often involves a lot of discussion. (And I can contribute to things going better by being more flexible in when and how that discussion happens.) The root cause often involves things that have grown out of traumatic experiences and situations in our past, which is ... fun. Restitution hasn't been a huge factor.

Root cause analysis and failure prevention tend to slide together, even though I have them listed as separate steps. It's at the failure prevention step where, like magic, I start calming down and feeling incredibly secure and loved. Since some of the factors involve trauma, the failure prevention often involves the slow process of healing (with and without the assistance of professionals), and my understanding and forgiveness of those things.

We're learning how to fight well and safely, and I love them so much.

Moving!

18/5/17 19:43
azurelunatic: The (old) Tacoma Narrows Bridge, intact but twisted. (Tacoma)
So as I alluded to in passing, I'm moving.

My departure from the Bay Area is May 31st.

The moving pod(s) will be with me from sometime May 26 through sometime May 31st.

I am driving to Tacoma with some of the stuff that's too delicate or otherwise unsuitable to be trusted to a pod. (Alcohol in the trunk. My computer. Stuff I'll need to survive for a week or so without things from the pod. The ancestral tea set from Dad's mom's side of the family, eventually destined for Ev. The box with the paper volumes of my journal.) The drive often takes two days; it's possible that I may accomplish it in one go, though I haven't yet driven it. (I did the Phoenix/SF drive in two days the first time, and one day on the two subsequent trips.)

The plan for Tacoma is:
* some sort of long-term pre-payable hotel for the first ~month, keeping in mind that I'll be off at Open Source Bridge for part of that, too
* two specific call centers to apply to
* look for a ~year lease
* look for a better job

Oh yes, and: see my partner and metamour on a regular basis.

This is earlier than I thought I'd be going, but it was suddenly time.

My world is boxes. Company would be welcome but is not necessary, and the number of sitting surfaces in here is drastically lower than usual.
azurelunatic: Chocolate dessert, captioned No Artificial Shortages  (no artificial shortages)
Eurovision was yesterday! That was certainly an experience...

In honor of that, my traditional contribution to the party: chocolate covered strawberries.

Read more... )
Tags:

Mutual.

7/5/17 20:58
azurelunatic: Upstretched hands bound at the wrist and chained. (wrists)
"Mine."
"Yours."

No matter who starts it, it goes both ways. Mutual possessiveness, mutually possessed.

There are the escape clauses that make it safe to curl this tightly together, and the rules that protect us from some of the more obviously terrible overly intimate impulses.

But mostly, there's just us.

"Yours."
"Mine."

Ours.
azurelunatic: FAQ with editing marks all over it. (faqedit)
This was written up over about an hour, and several months after the fact, so there's a lower attention to detail than the original draft (which I am sure I have somewhere). But I figured it was time to get at least a half-assed version posted.

This details my personal experience with getting my twat irradiated. I didn't collect any trauma from this, and the medical professionals I interacted with all tried very hard to be helpful and respectful.

Read more... )
azurelunatic: Polyamory infinite hearts, in a polymer-like grid (polymer)
Couple milestone: be hit on, as a couple, in a dive bar in Fremont.

(My partner discerned that I was not up for any of that at this time, and politely brushed the guy off. The guy was later seen hitting on another couple that included a boobilicous brunette. It was very, very loud in there, and I was hitting sensory overload between the audio, the crowd, the lighting, and standing without a wall at my back.)
azurelunatic: "beautiful addiction", electron microscope photo of caffeine (caffeine)
Went to dentist. Early. Oops.
Got root canal. My dentist (the man dentist, not the pretty one) is funny when he's not being intimidating and stern.
Backstory on dentist: there is a lot going on in my mouth, very little of it good, and I am not in a place to be accepting helpful advice at this time. The most recent adventure was *last* Wednesday, where what was supposed to be a routine filling went wrong ). Happily, the root canal fixed the pain and I no longer have to heavily medicate, and I get a coronation at some point.
$$$ ouch.
Went home promptly instead of faffing about running errands, because I was exhausted as hell.
Canceled endodontist appointment, because that was just a consult about the one that they just root canalled.
Caught up a bit with Nora.
Poked the apartment office to see when the maintenance dude was coming to chat with me about places the moving pod could be put. (Answer: they hadn't even poked him about it, because of so many emergencies.)
Called the moving pod place and reserved stuff and got more details.
Filed a ticket with maintenance with more details, since relaying things via the office has been proven ineffective.
Caught up with my bff, who is still getting used to the idea of roommates.
Untangled some very tangled crochet-cotton.
Scheduled dinner with Purple, even though both gmail and comcast were being unhelpful.
Found my glasses by using my emergency backup glasses; I'd taken my glasses off in order to untangle the yarn.
Refueled enough to get to dinner, as that was one of the errands I'd skipped. Ah well.
Got a little time with my partner, on the way to both of our dates.
Had a lovely evening with Purple.
Caught up with Dawn on the way home.
Went to bed early and slept like a rock.
azurelunatic: The California coastline, looking south from Pacifica. (Pacifica)
So I went to Tacoma for a week, to visit my primary partner. It was a very nice visit and everyone had fun!

I flew out Monday the 10th, marred by some lateness from the previous plane arriving, but I had a very lovely chat with my seatmate and gave her some info on self-taught programming for her teenage son who is very good with computers and might be interested in programming if he doesn't go the heart surgeon route. (He is whip-smart, autistic, and interested in planes. And computers. And being a heart surgeon.) Upon seeing my partner, I kissed them hello straight off and then we loaded everything into the car and headed for the next stop (taking time to update the local branch of the polycule on what was up).

My partner met my sister, yay!

There were cheesecake-related shenanigans.

I got to meet my partner's co-workers, and see them at work in one of the more rewarding aspects of their job -- plus some of the stuff that goes into making that happen.

I got to meet some long-time internet friends in person ([livejournal.com profile] tygerr & wife), see Ex Mrs. Shawn #1, see [personal profile] vlion and wife and kid. Stories were told. I got to meet [personal profile] rynia and their wife and another friend, plus my metamour, and the people whose couch my partner will be occupying for the next little bit. And I got to meet the people whose spare room my partner and their cat are currently in. Plus see a few bandmates. And a few of my sister's bandmates. And my metamour's mother and brothers. SO MANY PEOPLE.

Very good times were had by all. We listen to some of the same podcasts, and our philosophies of laundry are compatible. The food choices worked out. [personal profile] norabombay and I bat around some thoughts on alpha/beta/omega dynamics as they are seen in fanfic, and basically you'd need some hardcore preparation for an omega heat. You'd want frozen burritos or something that are super quick to fix, a room with a nice comfortable bed, and a fuckton of lube and such. Water bottles for bed. You know.

^_^

Despite some concerns, we did not get told that we were disturbing other guests. We may have been doing it wrong.

^_^

I left on Monday. I did most of my weeping and clinging on Sunday night. I'm adjusting to life back home, but with a part of my head that I didn't realize had been quite so on-edge now purring quietly to itself.

We'd sort of wanted an oasis of calm with just the two of us. Instead, we got the edge of a crisis, as my partner's hosts had been told that it was renovation time and they needed to find a new place. And my partner had various things at work on four of the weekdays. Plus I wanted to meet people while I was there, and show off my partner. So it wasn't just the two of us alone with no worries, it was commuting and work and locating moving boxes and all sorts of little things.

Our emotions and our physical interactions had been growing wildly out of step. It's one thing to spend comfortable time in each other's virtual presence, swearing at traffic or grumbling about an essay or something. It's another to actually touch each other. I had been a little worried: would I push them away in the middle of the night? Would I be able to fall asleep with their skin touching me? As it turned out, if I tiptoed out of bed in the middle of the night to pee, they'd wrap back around me when I came in, and when they got out of bed with their alarm on a workday, I'd grumble something sleepy at the loss of their touch.

When I was an impressionable teenager, I read some MSR portal fantasy with soulbonding, where some form of magic had bound Mulder and Scully tightly to each other; in the early bits of the fic, the space between them decreased, so they needed to be in physical contact at all times. (This was down to some malfunction, and the bond was fixed later on.) But in the beginning, as the bond strengthened, the physical distance decreased.

But that's ... kind of not where things go.

Given the opportunity, my partner and I will snuggle up into each other. We're both a little short on skin-to-skin contact, so I will likely as not have my hand grasping their shirt collar, fingers tucked against their neck. But it doesn't hurt to let go. It's not a problem of scarcity. If they let go, they will come back and hold me again. If I let go, I will come back and curl around them. There's a security. They are a fixed point. My anchor. My love.
Parted from me and never parted; never and always touching and touched.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
This document was compiled at old-work, for amusement purposes.

Signatures


$NAME
The name in the signature (as opposed to the .sig file) is possibly what this person would like you to call them when you write back.

(message is in all caps, there is no signature)
Either $NAME lost their caps lock key, or really needed to yell at you.

Love, $NAME
$NAME probably does not love you all that much.

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British Signatures


Cheers, $NAME
Friendly.
Not friendly.

Cordially, $NAME
What is the sound of something very sharp being applied from behind?

Kind regards, $NAME
Standard.

Regards, $NAME
Unkind regards.

Greetings


Hi, $HALF_YOUR_NAME
I didn't bother to pay attention to your signature.

Dear Frederick Douglass,
I mistook your .sig file for your signature.

Hidden Messages


Acrostic

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Jargon

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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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