2002-10-13

Current Mood: drained
Current Music: thankfully, no more crying

Auntie Function

When kid wakes up and is crying because somehow Mommy's door became locked, and he was asleep on the couch, I can and will hug.

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough.

Poor guys.

Auntie needs to get her tired tailfeathers back to bed.

And, of course...

My restless cock insists upon entering means that the hyperactive rooster is throwing himself against the door.

Childhood Rules

One of these days, I will get around to making my mother that bookmark that I've been wanting to make all these years.

Forever, ever since we started keeping African Violets when Nancy gave one to us (they are dastardly little critters, and will overrun the household if allowed), it had been kept on the chest of drawers in the kitchen. And, being as it was right there, it was the perfect spot to leave a book on top of, face-down, open over the violet.

A new rule was created: Don't use the African violet as a bookmark!

House Rules in my house when growing up were really almost unnecessary. There were a collection of rules for safety and sanity (no eating in bed [crumbs bring critters]; no jumping on Mama & FatherSir's bed; no allowing guests to be on Mama & FatherSir's bed [a jillion small children at a party and no upstairs partitions, and someone's going to break something or knock something over or some such thing]; don't touch the wood stove unless you know how to operate it; leave the upstairs window open when running the dryer [house was designed with warmth in mind, not ventilation, and running dryer when house is sealed draws air down through the smokestack and out the stove, which is BAD in wintertime]; don't leave the propane stove on-without-being-lit; take off your boots when you come in so you don't track in crumbs of snow which will lead to puddles of ice-water that someone will find with their sockfeet [FatherSir was the worst violator of that, until he stepped in a puddle of ice-water himself barefoot, and then he was very compliant with the standard]; and other rules), most of which hardly had to be articulated as rules at all, just ways that the universe worked in this house.

But then there were the rules that were not necessary to the safe and efficient running of the household, and those were mostly silly. No cats in family hugs! No flicking lettuce-water on your sister! The African violet rule was one of the silly ones. The silly ones were always broken, and caused only minor quibbling rather than actual household harm. Well, occasionally it stressed out family relations if someone got lettuce-water flicked on her, but it wasn't a destructive form of rule-breaking. And the African violet was always fine; here, the cat nibbles on the damn thing, and it's hairier and greener and bigger than ever.

I would leave my books upside-down over the African violet, and my mother would remind me of the rule, and I would pick up my book... and put it down there the next time I was in the kitchen and needed both hands.

One of these days, I will construct Mama a bookmark with a pressed African violet. She'll laugh.

Morning.

273. Not going to be much of a day around here, methinks.

votania,

marxdarx, and Nephew are going to have a picnic somewhere. I had my morning caffeine.

Cat's cuddly and cute.

Hope Darkside's doing all right. He had to call in from work on Friday, and he hates doing that. He's got strep still, poor dear.

Working on reading Return of the King.

Evidently...

...Shawn has a posse. They showed up, and he had to get offline, but before they did, we had a nice long chat. Almost like old times, only without the inconvenient lust thing making me want to have him fuck my brains out, and the less-convenient love-thing making me want to marry him. It's odd. Now that I've gone to his wedding, wished him farewell, and spent the past three years scraping him out of my life, he's an old close friend, but he's ... safe. He might still blow things up, he very likely still fucks around, but he's someone I know how to handle, now. He brought my mind to a state of collapse, and left it there, but I'm recovered, and no one's going to hit me there and make me fold ever again.

He's the same guy who was my high school best friend, only now I don't allow him to hypnotize me. We had a comfortable gossip. His daughter helped him put his office chair together, and now she (almost 3, I think) thinks it's hers, and flips every time he tries to sit in it. Group sex is still "high on [his] list of cool", although now babysitters need to be brought into the equation, and not as direct actors. *eyeroll* Still good ol' Shawn, I see. If Darkside glares and sulks every time I sleep with Adam, he'd positively skewer me if I should ever consider sleeping with Shawn again.

Told him I forgave him for the shit he pulled in '96.

We talked movies and music. He hates Rugrats, which his daughter loves; she doesn't get to watch it while he's around. (Mommy probably lets her watch it, I'm guessing.)

Our old friend the manic rhodophile is living in Phoenix; that I knew. He's not smoking weed anymore, which was news to me: I may in fact look him up, as he was a cool guy even when he was smoking every day. His girlfriend's at MIT, which is probably why he went clean.

Anyone who dates Shawn's daughter must have his balls removed with a vicegrip beforehand. Shawn's a good father. I like him. He recommended Donnie Darko to me. That pushes it over my threshold for "might see sometime" to Definitely Will See When I Get The Chance. Mmm, and music!

His writing has so improved. He had me read the first 2^1/2 chapters of a fanfic he's writing. Not bad at all. Even drunk, and not a devotee of space battle writing, I got sucked in. That's good writing: I skim David Weber and occasionally don't finish the book, and he's evidently one of the best.

Shawn's politics and mine are still tracking along roughly the same lines. Also good to know. Who is the phallic potato?

Oooh, just had one of those thoughts.

I'm thinking about a DDR-style Ceremonial Magick training game. For some console or other.

(It shouldn't take the computer over a minute to clear out the stored internet files, should it? ...and gosh, now that this has been done, everything's running so very much faster... )

You'd have a wand or something to hold, and you could practice making the symbols...

I'm just being silly, aren't I.

Dreamed

Was in the brightly-colored universe again. Much use of comments and user icons. I had one that I was particularly proud of, with me, and kisses, hearts, or lips of two different colors at my cheeks, and a third color lipstick on my lips, three images of my face imperfectly and gostlily aligned. Red, blue, and black, with my face pale white.

iroshi was in that universe, or at least I labelled the person as her, but it wasn't, as she was married and citing her husband as a reason why she would not get romantically involved with other people. It could have been 'song, but... odd.

This is the universe with the balconies and lots of jumping? It's the one with the little booths in the parkning lot near school with the tarot reader in. Someone had childhood trauma. Or something. There were birthday candles, and someone with a possibly abusive father who would give the birthday girl a check, but punish the other girls if they were there when he showed up to talk to the birthday girl, and the candle in the wine cooler bottle that was the treehouse got blown out, and the wax that was deep blackberry purple and sparkling was spilling over.

Household ponderings

My room's acquiring the resilient feel of a place that's designed to be arranged in a certain way, and will continue to be arranged in that way even through disruptions, guests, kids, cats, projects, et cetera. The arrangement of things in my closet is no longer a disaster; I keep the formal clothes to one end, the nice plain shirts next, the t-shirts after that, and the printed t-shirts following. In order of color, no less. I have pride in my organizational skills, though there are some aspects that still do need to be honed. I have Things to be Fixed, Papers to be Sorted, and Work to be Done.

But my room is reasonably tidy, though the items upon the bed are topsy-turvey. But then, they're pillows and blankets and so forth, and have a right to be all upside-down.

I work on novel

Maybe someday novel will be done.

More worknotes:

Maybe I'll get

ectogenesis done this NaNoWriMo.

So far, I've gotten the bespelled peaceful sleep pillow to Rose, cut the sucky intro but kept the buildup intro; I've collapsed the sucky intro into a nightmare for Rose. I've established a very affectionate relationship between Rose and Beth, which is ultimately going to pan out into nothing, but it's going to be very clear that Beth is doing everything she can to keep her hands off Rose as befits a mentor, even though they are the same age.

I've introduced Rose's Star Trek addiction, and may have introduced that in addition to her already-blossomed talents, that she can have a truly foul temper; I certainly hope so. She's a little bitch who throws temper tantrums and needs to get them under control; she may have grown up, but she's far less fun to deal with than she was when she was insecure about her Talents.