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azurelunatic: A crocheted uterus with ancillary parts, including internal clitoral structure. (Uterus in Retrograde)
http://azurelunatic.tumblr.com/post/155137530202/clue-ambassador-stories-pcos -- with a few extra details edited in.

If you have been diagnosed with PCOS, please follow up about annoying symptoms like extra heavy periods and changes in discharge! Backstory. )

I had vaginal brachytherapy for the radiation follow-up, which was essentially three sessions, each consisting of an hour or so of boring being still, followed by ten minutes of also boring being still with a danger dildo. There were minimal side effects.

Details. )

My tweets

Oct. 3rd, 2016 05:58 pm
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (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.

My tweets

Sep. 4th, 2016 08:43 pm
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
azurelunatic: Scissors cutting film. NaNoWriMo 2004 (Home Movies from the Cutting-Room Floor)
I was Feeling Not Quite The Thing into the afternoon, and fell over for a nap sufficiently substantial that I had nearly no time to run the errands I'd planned to. I was going to meet up with Guide Dog Aunt for a movie this evening. (Wednesdays are no good: she has Boat that night. Boat is her granddog. Boat has enough German Shepherd to be a terror.)

I started having what may have been hot flashes over the weekend. Small ones. (Mumble) did the responsible-and-helpful thing (genuinely) and poked me to poke the doctor's office about it. I emailed. (They called me at fuck o'clock on Monday morning, left a voicemail saying I should call them, but just in case because I'd said that the phone was "hard" -- I'd said that the phone was the worst way for contact, in fact -- that they'd email too.) Their return email said that I should take my temperature twice a day, and if anything hit above 100F, to take my temperature an hour later, and call them immediately if it went over that.


Also, since I haven't had a child living with me in ... ages, I did not in fact have a functional thermometer.

It turns out that iPods do not like playlists with All The Stuff on it. And that turning off podcast syncing will in fact empty the iPod of all podcasts. This means that re-syncing takes about an hour, if it's the old-style thing and you've got about 5-6 gigs of audio to get back on the thing.

So just as my aunt was finding a parking space, I rolled in with my new thermometer and some cold groceries to put away. We then zipped off to the library to find some movies of mutual interest.

On the way, I gave her the update on the Latest Information On My Social Life. This included a super awkward conversationsecurity: filtered about a delicate topicsecurity: filtered, lasting basically until we got through the library doors, and commencing again once we left. *facepalm* Family, gentlefolks. Honesty can be helpful. Honesty can also be utterly embarrassing.

I had not, in fact, seen Pride and Prejudice, though I have certainly read the book. Guide Dog Aunt thinks Matthew Macfadyen resembles a young Dylan Moran, and I can see the resemblance.

IRC on the iPad, and a keyboard in my pocket, kept me moderately chatty with the usual suspect(s) during quieter moments of the movie.

The house is in moderate chaos. The solar panels are on the roof; tomorrow's the day when all the electricity gets shut off in order to hook those in. (I registered a charger for some electric vehicle or other. I think Woodworking Uncle may have a new toy.) Guide Dog Aunt's kitchen is getting renovated hardcore. There are boxed-up appliances shoved in the parlor, and the two big chairs have been replaced by something a little less murderous on the back.

As I headed out, I saw a familiar black-and-white striped rump and tail disappearing under the porch. My aunt had thought that the underside of the house had been rendered sufficiently inaccessible to skunk-kind. Apparently not. And she's got Boat (the shepherd with no chill) tomorrow. Fortunately she's got about a gallon of skunk-wash on hand...

Next doctor's appointment is Tuesday morning, in Oakland. [personal profile] quartzpebble plans to meet me there, for backup.

My tweets

Aug. 21st, 2016 07:32 pm
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
azurelunatic: A crocheted uterus with ancillary parts, including internal clitoral structure. (Uterus in Retrograde)
The original of this was written on Thursday, August 4th, after I got home from the hospital, and sent to a selection of friends and family. I have redacted some bits, added other bits, and corrected some details.

I am settled in back at home, and have been up and walking around, sitting up at the computer, and napping. I am sore, but not more than is reasonable. I have a dotted line of five 4x2" bandages across the middle of my abdomen, and a not-so-mysterious sore spot where my cervix used to be. There are marks of adhesive tape on my hands and arms and basically everywhere which I am slowly scrubbing off with alcohol wipes, and I'm still discovering little stick-on snaps from the monitoring leads that they didn't entirely remove after I came out of surgery.

I'm doing okay and will hear more back from the doctor in about a week, and I have a follow-up appointment for the 22nd. They think they got everything of concern out with the uterus, tubes, and ovaries, but they will follow up to make sure. I should be able to resume normal activities in 6-8 weeks. I probably shouldn't be driving for several more days, but I've been sitting up and walking around without any particularly large amount of pain for the past 6 hours, so I may be ready for that sooner than I initially thought. [I wound up driving on Sunday.]

The long version follows.

Read more... )
azurelunatic: A crocheted uterus with ancillary parts, including internal clitoral structure. (Uterus in Retrograde)
I did in fact get an entire lengthy Thing about my funtimes in the hospital all written up, chock-full of unredacted family information and sent out to a slightly wider list of the usual suspects.

Then Aunt-Fayoumis wanted to know alllll about this [personal profile] ryan character; he seems like a jewel among men.

Reader, I married him.

Specifically, in 2013, I married [personal profile] ryan and my honorary brother [personal profile] jd, serving as officiant.

I had to disabuse Aunt-Fayoumis of the obvious misconception about the fundamentals of the relationship between me and [personal profile] ryan, is what I'm saying.

I did enlighten her as to the entity that she should be asking about, and did provide Much Of The Information.

Other than that, it's been a quiet day. I wrote stuff. I did not get any further pokes from doctors. I napped. I confirmed that my physical recovery is definitely underway. I took a shower, taking care with the bitty wee incisions to limit their time under the spray (despite the tape) and that they were patted dry promptly. I strolled down to the corner for food and back. On my way back, I encountered someone who had just had a worse day than I did, on account of the bottom of his paper bag fell out and all his takeout containers fell out, and some of them spilled.

I read fic.

I took meds.

Writing is harder, but not impossible. I keep losing the narrative thread and wandering into distracted staring dreaminess.

It'll probably take me at least another full day of writing-brain to translate the Hospital Saga from email to DW post.
azurelunatic: A crocheted uterus with ancillary parts, including internal clitoral structure. (Uterus in Retrograde)
Got the uterus (and tubes, and ovaries) out yesterday. Spent the night at the hospital.

Got home today just after noonish, and shortly thereafter fell over for a much-needed nap.

Pain is mostly being covered, and I've been sitting up and walking around. Tomorrow I may venture further afield. No driving for a bit yet, though.

I'm very happy to be rid of my uterus. Of particular note: #bloodcannon is not happening anymore!

I may post a more detailed version in a while.
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Azz is awake, groggy, and in posession of their cell phone. They have even
posted a post surgery selfie.

[twitter.com profile] azurelunatic at twitter has the pics.

azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
In the battle between Robots and Azz's uterus, the robot side emerges
victorious. The uterus and it's fellow travelers- Fallopian tubes and the
like are removed.

Due to medical waste laws, the organs will not be bedazzled and mounted as
trophies, nor will they be given a proper pagan funeral. This is sad,
because we all know that if anyone was to bedazzle a defeated enemy and
cover it with blinky led lights, it would be Azz. They have a well known
gift for the sparkly.

Azz is hitting recovery right about now, and they should be pretty out of
it for the rest of the night. I will update on their condition as I get

azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Azure Lunatic has gone into surgery for their hysterectomy, they expect the
robots to be working for several hours.

Prior to this attack on the unruly organ and it's reign of treasonous
terror, a more organic solution was offered on Twitter.

Given the organic solution featured both a walnut allery and attack onions,
I feel we can all be thankful that our robot overlords were chosen to
perform the procedure instead.

Azz was posting to Twitter up until the last minute- they threw up some
recovery room pics *not fics* for those who want the sordid or in this case
actually not sordid at all details.

An update will be posted when they are out of surgery.

/norabombay for AzureLunatic
azurelunatic: A crocheted uterus with ancillary parts, including internal clitoral structure. (Uterus in Retrograde)
So as I mentioned a while back, I'd had an IUD placed and had an endometrial biopsy. The results came back -- abnormal, which is the lowest of the five levels of Shit Be Wack, y0. The phrasing on that, by the way, is interesting; there are various levels of panic, in a way that indicates that even in the face of a patient's body rebelling and trying to kill them, doctors still have a bit of a sense of humor. Sometimes that's all you've got.

After a very short time, the sort of timeframe that makes you wonder whether you're having emergency surgery or whether Kaiser's just been greasing your roller skates before sending you down Arch Street, it turns out I'm getting a hysterectomy, tubes and ovaries and all. They'll send it to Pathology while I'm out, and will take out some lymph nodes if they find anything bad enough. It was the roller skates, after all: they're not expecting anything too bad, but there's always that concern.

It's planned to be laparoscopic, with robots; the abdominal incisions should be very small.

I should be awake sometime in the evening, if not online; I should be home sometime Thursday, although scarce while I recover enough to actually sit at the computer.

Thanks to post-via-email, two of my friends have post-only access to my journal. They cannot read any of your locked entries, although with the post-via-email PIN and a T.A.R.D.I.S. they could probably gain access to an old workplace of mine. The plan is that [personal profile] ryan will email the small list of friends and family who need immediate updates, and then my friends with the keys will update DW at their discretion.

I expect that my own replies to stuff will be substantially delayed on account of, you know, hysterectomy.

(Purple, and other parties, have been excellent throughout all this, and tolerated my increasingly pathetic requests to them for hugs with good grace.)
azurelunatic: Animated woman's gloved hand dripping with her own blood.  (bleeding)
Oh, uterus.

So because of reasons (mostly involving PCOS and my desire to maybe #bloodcannon a little less), I've been thinking about an IUD for a while. And since a few of my friends and I have entered into a mutual support pact about embodiment issues, it was well time for me to schedule an appointment for that.

Having determined to do the thing, I was rather in mind of doing it promptly, and since there has not in fact been any reason to suspect I might be pregnant (owing to not having been around any unchaperoned sperm since 2004-ish), sooner was better than later.

Unfortunately, the online appointment booking thing was down at the time I tried to get an appointment, so I wound up calling in; because I called in, I got an appointment with some random person from the office, rather than the uterus inspector I'd painstakingly picked out from the list. (The painstaking process went like: are they in this office? Do they not go on about how much they like babies? Does something about their profile strike me as friendly to me and people like me? OK then.)

Since it had been a while since seeing a uterus inspector when not in a highly traumatized and upset state of mind, and the state of the sexual health care art continues to change, I came prepared with a short list of questions whose answers I actually rather thought might apply to my current life. (I also have come to the conclusion that while I have no particular wish to get surgery which is super optional, I want to carefully monitor the risk & pain tradeoffs between keeping the uterus in and having the fucker OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT, and remove it as soon as it tips, rather than attempting to keep it around much past its best-by date.)

Read more... )

That was about that. I collected my things and headed out, leaving promises to get the sex ed hat properly up on Ravelry someday. And I headed for home, a little disoriented and definitely feeling profuse bleeding, but not feeling kicked anywhere tender.

I came home to assorted encouragement on Twitter. Of particular note were the "uterus explosion" misreadings, and then a bit of sublime silliness with [twitter.com profile] atavistique.

[twitter.com profile] azurelunatic I think it will be time for tea when I get home.
[twitter.com profile] atavistique and indeed there will be time/ to murder and create/ before the taking of toast and tea
[twitter.com profile] azurelunatic Do I dare/ Disturb the uterus?
[twitter.com profile] atavistique I have lingered in the chambers of the womb/ by follicles wreathed with endometrium red and brown
[twitter.com profile] azurelunatic Till the speculum is lowered, in the gloom.

After the alluded-to pot of strong tea, I felt equal to dinner out with Purple, which was largely pleasant. I finally got to introduce him to the bread pudding, which was spectacular and my entire reason for bringing him. After dessert, I looked at my phone when Purple stepped away from the table, and found that I had received an emotionally jarring text. I showed Purple, and reached across the table to take his hand while I freaked out gently, and mourned the world in which certain terrible things had not yet happened. Eventually we repaired to the parking lot, to discuss the hardships of having been the kind of grownup who lost the rock-paper-scissors for presidency of the HOA board (this was the "bagsy not-it" game), pie that has tentacles, and the way he's *mostly* a well-behaved grown-up, but there are just moments when he has to fuck with people's brains. I have rather more of those moments, and mostly I let them off harmlessly, but every now and then there's something like the helldesk software, or ... other, less innocent forms of fuckery ... and I aim myself carefully before going off.

A good 12 hours on, and the bleeding's slowed to something more normal. And now, having written all this, I shall perhaps consider bed!
azurelunatic: Chickens saying "Cluck Cluck Your Mother's" (cluck)
Been a while since a proper update! This is not quite a proper update, but at least it's substantial?

"I found whistles, maracas, 5 hour energy, coffee mugs, headphones, and a cellphone charger, but I did not find the other webcam."

Faceblindness! It's fun for the whole family! I'm not sure if I've properly told the "some woman" story about my faceblindness on DW as yet, but it's become my go-to story for "no, really, Rev. Lunatic is faceblind" though to be fair, Mama says that it took seeing Tay walk (well, bounce) in the airport to recognize her, since she's changed a lot.

However, in compensation, I have a small non-face-related superpower. I had a really fun encounter in the past year-ish where lb showed me some photos from his mid-90s college crew, and I was able to identify lb in a group photo where lb himself wasn't quite sure which of two people he was. This was based on my knowledge of how lb stands, and another photo which established what lb was wearing. Read more... )

I cannot perform this party trick with just anyone, but I can usually spot Purple in very large group shots if I know vaguely where he was in the crowd. Sometimes it's based on a sneaker. (Purple wears white sneakers that trend increasingly towards grey and ragged until he gets replacements. He also lounges ostentatiously, Kirklike/catlike. I find both somewhat endearing, but I would.)

One of my forms of comfortgoogling is chicken pictures. Current small pet peeve: when any old picture of a hen on a nest is used to illustrate "broody". Broody is a very specific state of chicken, generally characterized by unwillingness to get off the nest and hoard eggs, and sit there until the chicks hatch. Broodies are cranky, will cut you, have flattened themselves on the nests with wings slightly out away from their sides, have their necks pulled way down into their feathers and their tails raised so usually the tail-bump is higher than the head. They make a characteristic rhythmic "clook ... clook ... clook ..." noise (similar to the syllable of the rapid "buk-buk-buk" tidbitting noise but more spaced out, and more relaxed than any part of the "buk-buk-buk-buk-ba-DAWK-et!" alarm call which often follows egg-laying, fox sighting, bush rustling, or Disturbance in the Force). If you try to steal their eggs, they will growl/roar and also try and cut you.

Fishie is finishing up sophomore year at college. (OMG, how time flies.) She'll be 20 soon. She's majoring in computer science now, and doing things like acing the midterm where the median grade was ... not super great. The teacher for that class will be pleased to write her an academic recommendation, and says that she'll be able to do anything she puts her mind to. I am so proud of her. She works so hard, and she's getting so much better at picking her battles. She has been figuring out her summer activities: after finals, she goes to her internship Down South. After that she may wind up going to see her grandma, and after that, spending time with a friend in San Diego.

The concept of "like 5, 6 nice" has entered our dialogues because Fishie's Terrible Mom #yamappendix would make a big deal like "I AM BEING THE NICEST PERSON EVARRRR BECAUSE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH" when doing normal and expected things. So when Fishie encounters people who are being genuinely kind, she is equally floored by small kindnesses that don't inconvenience others, and big kindnesses which do inconvenience others. It's all pegged at like 10 nice for her, when someone with a scale that isn't at "Mommy is an abusive fuckwad Read more... )" might view it as maybe a 3,4 nice.

For those who don't dwell anywhere near Silly Valley and also aren't tapped in to the latest tech tat, "hoverboards" have been A Thing for a while. It used to be that there was just the one dude at work who rode one around, and he was proficient and discreet except for how he was going pretty fast and kind of gliding. Now, of course, many tech bros with more money than sense either have one of their own, or have access to one. Thus it was that one dude who I IRC with wound up in the ER one fine evening after doing a wipeout on his hoverboard while at work. In a subsequent all-hands at his company, there was a safety admonishment about unwise hoverboard usage.
Tech Bro 1: "haha bet I know what happened."
Tech Bro 2: "hahah yeah I heard about that."
Tech Bro 1: "sucks that K had to go to the ER tho."
Tech Bro 2: "wait, K had a wipeout too? I was talking about X."
Tech Bro 1: "Oh, what happened with X?"
Multiple hoverboard collisions in one week: not a good thing.

One of the best days of my young life was the day my father brought home a label-maker. It was a about the size of a large typewriter. I recall it having a few large font wheels. We started labeling everything. We kids dubbed it "The Advance", because it had a large key labeled "Advance" in place of an Enter/Return key. The key fed blank tape.
One of the most tragic and terrifying days of my young life was the day when the label-maker caught on fire. I saw black smoke rising up out of it, and immediately began screaming and jumping up and down. Fortunately it was winter. This meant that the appropriate response, which my dad immediately took, was to unplug it, pick it up (it was smoking, not flaming) and hurl it out the front door into a convenient snowbank.
After that we didn't have a label-maker anymore.

"I feel like both of these perspectives are valid, but they're not compatible."

Being around a whole whackton of other non-binary-gendered folks has helped me focus my gender identity feels some. It looks like the identity that best fits is agender. Non-male-identified, though sometimes I present masc and sometimes I present High Soft Femme. Though maintaining High Femme feels kind of like the thing where you're clamping down in the vain hope that you won't bleed all over everything before you get to a bathroom with supplies.

"... a bit of a radfem (without the skateboard)" (said of a radical feminist who might not so much be the "raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadical, duuuuuuuude!" kind)

Hard problems in gender, privacy, and community safety: where is the line between outing and community safety, when you happen to know that someone who has Caused Problems Before is in a community [a different one] under an identity that is at least slightly discontinuous with their old one, and the new identity is tied to a gender marker change (and the old identity is really most sincerely dead)? (Tentative answer: take it case by case and hope you get it right.)

Once upon a time, Reverend Lunatic gave themselves hiccups as the result of an orgasm. Once not that long ago ... Read more... )

I have started watching the Great British Bake-Off, finally. It is so charming! I appreciate that all the contestants and guests are treated respectfully by the editing and camera, in a way that US television rarely does. And it's just so amazingly sweet!

Now that the conference is wrapping up, I'm down to just job-searching with a side of wrap-up work, not job-searching AND ALL THE CONFERENCE. This makes more time to tidy. Last fall, I'd decided to re-arrange my apartment. It got halted halfway through, and the result was nothing short of chaotic (though better arranged for certain things like sleep and computer). I decided that enough was enough, and I would work slowly but steadily in the direction of making it guest-appropriate. It's been coming along nicely, though it still is like a bit of a wacky game of 2048, where you have to calculate and carefully merge two things into the same space without upsetting anything else or making anything important too hard to reach quickly. This has resulted in random acts of mending, because part of this is seeing problems and fixing them.

My favorite hair ornament is a little basket of wires that's secured with two long metal spikes with glass knobs at the ends. Unfortunately, our relative heights are such that when I wear it, I spike Purple in the face with it when he hugs me goodnight. I have determined that I will seek alternate updo-securement, and have located a thing or two which should work better. Purple was a little "but you didn't have to -- it didn't draw *blood*!" when I showed him. :>

My tweets

Apr. 27th, 2016 06:08 pm
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Read more... )
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
With the reassurances from the Fixing The Goddamn Helldesk Software team that they are prioritizing things correctly, I have had more brainspace to notice and complain about other things in the workplace. Notably, while I was trying to order office supplies for some of the new arrivals, things went fractally wrong. In addition to the ill-trained tech from Tuesday, I discovered that the new system is spitting out .pdf instead of .html in email. I was mispleased. I complained. I discovered that in fact there were more things going poorly than I'd imagined, complete with a cameo from our friend the WHAT THE FUCK PLUGIN ARE YOU USING training site, yet again being used as documentation.

I am not allowed to attempt to own that circus or make them into my monkeys.

Friday involved the now-customary dinner with Purple and Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly. I had fun until my uterus decided that it was going to send spikes through every part of me, after which point I waited for the ibuprofen to kick in. Purple petted my arm reassuringly, but declined to take my uterus for the low low price of FREE TO GOOD HOME.

Saturday I ventured forth to get fruit, then curled up in earnest with the Lynburn Legacy trilogy. Specifically, I had the first volume on hand in hardback, and while I did have to pause at several points (first for fruit and then a few more because TOO MANY FEELINGS), I discovered that it was the soulbonding epic that we deserved.

I stayed up until maybe 5am reading the rest of the trilogy.

It's been too hot. I've been snuggling up to ice packs.

I emailed Darkside to let him know that I'm still alive. He emailed back Monday night. I reckoned he might still be up and we haven't talked in months, so I called. Yay.

I had lunch with Purple and crew on Monday and Tuesday, but Purple had dinner with a friend on Monday, and HOA stuff Tuesday, so we didn't have the customary walking-out chat. I was expecting to have my lunch replaced by a conversation between Haystack and a vendor that I needed to be a fly on the wall for, but Haystack got the app upgraded without the vendor intervention. Tomorrow will be the next conversation between same, and since I'm the in-house Linux expert (expertise: broke* a zone file in uni, cried about it; knows to be super careful with anything involving rm) I really do need to be there. One or two of the team data center guys will be there too. (When I said something about wanting to start up the app's version of Tomcat when the VM boots, one of the data center guys went all

The Canadian Guy looks mystified, saying "Ay danno, halthcare?" http://thepunchlineismachismo.com/archives/comic/just-click-your-heels-commander

at me and tossed me a link to Stack Exchange. So.)

* Turns out you really do need to increment your serial numbers.

Today I had lunch with Purple's crew, tried to figure out questions for tomorrow's thing with the app vendors, did some administrative stuff and other tasks. I also had one of those terrifyingly emotionally naked philosophical-disagreement-except-for-me-it's-less-abstract conversations with Purple. More on that in a short bit.
azurelunatic: part of a triangle filled with alternately black and red hearts, increasingly smaller in a sierpinski triangle pattern (hearts)
Sunday was not a great day in the department of menstruation. Specifically, it all decided to come out at a great rate. After I got to sleep from the whole electrical fire, I had to get up and ditch blood regularly. Sunday was a quiet day. Then I went to bed early and was more or less asleep for thirteen hours.

At lunch, I came to the gentle realization that one of the reasons that I had been so nervous about telling Darkside that [birthname] is not really one that I answer to anymore, is because I was not allowed to have preferences of my own around Shawn. Purple saw the dawning horror on my face and said many sweetly vicious things that prompted me to smile mistily and press paired fingers against his sleeve. [personal profile] norabombay mentioned, later, that a name change is a significant thing that comes with a nonzero chance of friends and family rejecting it, even people who ought to be close and ought to know better. But yeah, Shawn's shadow looms longer than previously thought.

lb saw a familiar face on campus, in the company of a recruiter.

My phone's battery has been not great. Alas.

The Stage Manager left me a donation toward my candy dish.

Today was one of those days where it seemed like all I did was talk with helpdesk. I also tried to do beta on some helpdesk stuff, but not all of the pieces were in order. Then I tried to put some stuff in the wiki, only to find that the wiki was broken. So I had to call helpdesk again.

The white sour balls may be possibly pear-flavored, Purple said.

He'd come in late enough to have a parking spot of opportunity. Mine was further down the same row, at the other end. We chatted for a while. My eyeshadow included some glitter, which had been catching the light and reflecting off my glasses, causing slight distraction. This was not a light source Purple would have guessed. He hugged me gently but thoroughly and we split. Tomorrow night is the deadline for some papers that have to be graded. He has a couple left.

I did get a good chat in with Nora, through the commute and into the grocery store. Then I came home and started laundry and cooked dinner and read some internet.
azurelunatic: Seated baby in incubator shell with electrodes.  (Cyteen)
13:49 Saturday, 17 January, 2015
Today I woke up, decided to have a nice lie-in, and lolled about in bed for a bit. Pelvic floor exercises may have been involved. So then I rolled over to get out of bed and felt that peculiar sensation and ran *very carefully* to the bathroom, to find that one of the epic, epic blood clots had fallen out into my underwear. If I had "nice" underwear anymore, it would have been stained into ruin. As it is, it's merely stained, and it's been rinsed so the blood will drip out of it and won't cause a scene no matter how late I am with the laundry.

22:46 Sunday, 18 January, 2015
The thing about starting a tale "There are way too many $NAMEs in my life, so I label them; this was Shrimpy $NAME..." is that when you are done with the tale, the other guys at the lunch table are looking at you bright-eyed, and then ask, "So which one..." and nudge a shoulder in the direction of the engineer who has brought you to this lunch table. Because clearly they have a grasp of the important issues.

"Purple," you answer.

"That's not so bad," they murmur.

Purple provides further color commentary, and the guys nod understandingly.

00:01 Wednesday, 21 January, 2015
My weekend was sort of a mess. The theme turned out to be "flooding". There were the events of Friday, of course. Then there was Saturday night.

Saturday night was going to be the night where I stayed in and watched the code push roll and kept on top of the comments. Then, about 5 minutes before push time, came a conversation shaped approximately* like:

Tif: Azz, what's your weekend like?
Azz: uh, sleep? maybe?
Tif: could I get a ride to Home Depot for a wet/dry vac tomorrow if I order it tonight?
Azz: sure?
Azz: Hold that thought, let me see if my shopvac swings both ways.
Azz: So, guess what! Also, I'm bringing the steam cleaner. Have pants on; I ride at midnight.

* actually it was 12:30-ish, by the time I left

So that happened. Which was why by the time it was all over, we swung by a diner for much needed breakfast lunch dinner breakfast, and then I didn't get to sleep until 9:30am because Costco gas was almost open by the time I passed that way, and then I was a little hyped up, and ... yeah.

So my sleep schedule was a little discombobulated all weekend, culminating in going to bed around 8pm on Monday, waking up at 11, only realizing it was because I was hungry at 12:30 ... and nothing in the kitchen looked like food. So it took a while to get back to sleep after that, and then I was up and out the door and actually to work before my first alarm went off. It was just as well, because there was a conference meeting, early-ish.

The thing about PCOS is that you find yourself accepting situations like "and then I bled through my second overnight pad of the day in under 4 hours" in stride, and people like Madam Standards are looking at you aghast and saying things like "And why didn't you get me to drive you to the hospital!??!" because apparently for the more typical uterus, this is a bloody nightmare.

Party committee kickoff went all right, if sparsely attended. I had a few words of caution: yes, by all means, improve on last year, but don't get into a game of one-upmanship with last year.

At lunch, I keep being The One With The Internet. So I showed the guys what Purple meant by "caber toss". The Rollercoaster Tycoon hung around to chat with Purple and me as the other guys wandered off. He's a very energetic fellow, and we'll miss him.

On the way out from lunch, I explained to Purple that flooding had been the theme of the weekend. "And there was Friday, of course," I said.

"Refresh my memory? One or two words?" he asked.

I could have been deeply obnoxious, but instead of the verboten #bloodcannon, I chose the tame but evocative "Menstruation."

Rollercoaster Tycoon, who sits in the same building as Purple and hadn't yet entirely split off from our little group, would have done a spittake had he been drinking anything.

I feel a little overwhelmed by the number of demands on my troubleshooty nature. There are three distinct things at work. Researcher Haystack is Shocked and Appalled by some of the shenanigans of some on-premise-hosted software the team is considering, but compared to *cough* the current thing, he nearly fell out of his chair when the external vendor's thing turns out to be night and day better than the homebrew thing with the wack UI actually is.

It could have been a milkshake day, but the meeting overlapped that.

The former intern who is leaving so unexpectedly soon (announced today, last week is this week) is doing so because his wife is going back to Korea to accept a much-hoped-for university teaching position. Which, if you're doing that, that is an entirely legit reason! The ladies (the Dogesitter, the visual designer who shares the office with the very buff guy, and Designer Sparkles) were talking about how sharing offices tends to mean that someone leaves. I noticed that Sparkles phrased it as "and [Overlady] kicked her officemate out" even though, in the most technical sense, Haystack is the one who has remained with the company and on the team. (Exceptions include, of course, the Stage Manager and Non-Boring Manager, who have been roommates forever, Madam Standards and the Norseman, and the lady with the tiny dustmop dogs and the Hawaiian Shirt Dev. The Monkey House used to have three, and now it has two because the guy from Bulgaria chose the peace and quiet of a cube, so now it's just the two skinny blond bearded white guys who are fortunately different heights so I can tell them apart reliably. Not to mention all the people off in other buildings.)

Some of the recruiters were making the rounds, hoping to see some of the more unusual things people have done with cubes. It was "our guy" (someone the others recognized but I didn't), who was giving the tour to someone from Cambridge and someone from Home Office, Arizona. I shared espresso beans. I don't have much out of the ordinary wall-wise, but the interior is an entirely different matter. Most people's cubes do not contain a large metal rooster, a disco ball, a very tiny mini fridge, or a couch. To say nothing of the loon hat.

The evening saw me rapidly getting cranky to where Everything was Terrible, more so than Friday night, as I told Purple. Friday night had been hilarious, if horrifying. This was tedious and I was cranky. Unfortunately, this was not the helpful sort of cranky that lets me successfully explain why the suggested fix is insufficient. Sometimes you ride the flux, sometimes the flux rides you. Declining to explain Emory, I instead found a snack, and that made many things better.

My friend's department has discovered that the helldesk software generates flowcharts. They are really, really, really inexplicable things, and a source of wonder and terror all at once.

Some of the helldesk software tickets are reaching revolving-door level epic status. The Stage Manager and I are both generally of the opinion that until the fix is live, we stay on an open ticket about the issue. To make matters even better, the helldesk software is now issuing duplicate notifications about each change, one for each type of tracking number. (There are two now, thanks to the hilarious way they stuffed the implementation in sideways at the beginning in an attempt to not scare the horses. Things done to "not scare the horses" tend to be ... less good ... if the 'horses' are in fact Companions...)

It was, however, time to go home. I poked Purple and he came to collect me. His hair was freshly washed, and formed spirals that shone silkily in the lights of the parking lot. The top of his head was fluffy. Because both of our brains went there, I told him that no, he was not a pink fluffy unicorn. "You're a Purple fluffy unicorn!" I told him.

It turns out that "purple unicorn" is now on the List of Unfortunate Phrases. "One-eyed purple unicorn" is worse, and "one-eyed weeping purple unicorn" is just right out. From there it was a quick step to Weeping Angels. (Steph declares that Weeping Angels, like loon units, do not belong in the pants.)

#dammitpurple is not a regular hashtag in my things. #AzureLsInTrouble is, but that's a slightly different thing.

Fetched dinner, and about a zillion tubs of cold soup for when nothing else is food. Did laundry. Reloaded laundry card. Checked mail. It was a good mail day, all told:
* spam
* W-2
* utility statement
* two free drink cards from Starbucks because their survey sucked
* my 2015 sticker from the DMV

So that's my tomorrow morning before work sorted then! An alcohol wipe, a sticker, and a coffee. I can live with that.
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Items include:

* radius thinks we are all very weird for our tab counts. He cleans out his browser regularly.
* I managed to bleed through the following: a padette, an overnight pad, my underwear, a pair of cotton shorts, and my skirt -- onto my desk chair. Which I promptly attacked with an enzyme thingy and also a couple of those lysol wipes, but there's still a distinctively-shaped rusty-colored stain. This is going to be an interesting help ticket.
* SPEAKING OF HELP TICKETS, a major update to the program went out today. There were some inaccuracies in the description given to me by the guy. Flower crown not entirely warranted.
* Help tickets were flying every which-way yesterday and today. A whole bunch got closed, not all of them for good reason. A bunch got re-opened, presumably because someone realized they'd fucked up. Then there were a bunch of duplicate updates.
* I didn't get a notification when someone closed my emailed-in ticket as invalid, because the content was all in the subject line and the attachment. Check the thing, bozos. Also, wtf. I will pursue that one. Later.
* I said something unkind about helpdesk. Purple says that helpdesk has a normal distribution of great people, normal people, and terrible people. Then he added that the tool makes terrible people of them all.
* Purple's phone takes MiniUSB, not MicroUSB. He called me while I was stomping vaguely victoriously towards my car with the pads, underwear, shorts, too-small skirt, and emergency pants. He called me on his desk phone because his cellphone had chewed through its battery again, possibly due to not turning its screen off while closed.
* If I have to explain verbally while someone is "in the middle of a meeting" exactly why I am taking a little trip off-campus (because of a vigorous menstrual event) if there are dinner plans in the offing, I will fail. If it had just been him in his office, I would have been fine, I think. But there were other people there so it was time-sensitive and I didn't know whether they could hear me.
* Work is switching contractor management companies, which results in all the contractors doing an annoying amount of paperwork. Purple has heard of the new company, but not of the old one.

A brief chronological rundown of some of Friday:

Read more... )

* This is the second emergency pants purchase I have made in the past 8 years. The first one was when my skirt tore in Phoenix at a mall which was a little too nice for me. Fortunately, I did not have to wear actual pants this time. (Trousers. Though this round did also include emergency pants.)
* This is my third outerpants purchase in the past 8 years. The second one was a bunch of jeans that I don't particularly care for, in advance of the 2011 Alaska trip, in a misguided attempt to save on packing space.
* The Rollercoaster Tycoon is heading off to a startup; next week will be his last at Virtual Hammer. He's more at home in a small environment, so this should be good for him.
* I am most likely allergic to my desktop. Purple asked how that worked. "Well, when I put my arm down like so--" "Oh, you mean your actual desktop. Not your computer."
* phone has joined #adventuresofstnono. This is great.
* Have given the Antisocialest Butterfly my contact information (with phone number) just in case Purple's phone runs out of battery (again). Have also authorized Purple to pass my number along to Mr. Antisocial Butterfly, also ditto. (Mr. Antisocial Butterfly had been invited, but due to logistics partly involving Purple's phone situation, did not attend.)
* butterscotch is kind of great. Chile Colorado: also delicious.
* Explaining Shrimpy is kind of odd.
* Explaining Shawn is more odd.
* I may just bring a spare change of clothes to leave at work, henceforth.


azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺

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