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azurelunatic: Hinky: adj: pure evil fuckery afoot. Syn.: suspicious (hinky)
Not allowed to escort the angry man who wears sweatpants for a scarf off my floor if he wanders in; I must let security do any escorting. (My idea was to call security to meet me at the destination floor.)

"If he wanders in" is despite the keycard on the elevator, since (as previously established) he's the sort of guy that one does not want to share an elevator with.

The keycard system was put into the elevator after the time when two guys came in when security was away from the front desk, stole the evening security guy's cologne (and presumably drank it), and proceeded up to a floor with a receptionist and were drunk and disorderly at the receptionist. (The belief is that both the drunk and the disorderly were conditions that pre-dated the theft of the cologne.)
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
This morning (after all the other commotion involved in getting to work) I was going peacefully about my slightly fraught Tuesday morning inventory of all the kitchen items (food and food-related supplies) so I could get the weekly orders sent off before the 10am deadline.

Just after 9am, the curly-haired brunette manager-type asked me if I had encountered "the weird guy" and wanted to make sure that I was safe. She'd been on the elevator with another woman, and a visibly/audibly angry man. She'd already swiped her badge and punched our floor (some floors, ours included, are card-access-only, after "the Incident") but she was sufficiently uncomfortable being alone on the elevator with this guy (who had not selected a floor) that she got off at the earlier floor that the other woman had selected. This did mean that the elevator went all the way up to our floor with the guy on board, unless he'd selected a floor after everyone else got off.

It was the hope that he'd just gone back down to the lobby, and since I didn't see anyone completely unexpected (there were a few visitors from offsite, so I didn't recognize everyone) and nobody else complained, he probably did.

I've requested a copy of the incident report that building security made, since company facilities are also likely to want records of this.

I've had to explain a few times now that I have a hobby of picking up and swinging around large men, and that makes me harder to intimidate than some other people of my general body form-factor. (And The Wall was a revelation to me when I first heard of her. Someone who consorts with supers, whose powers are hyper-competent bureaucracy and standing there like a fucking wall? YES PLEASE.)
azurelunatic: A spray of $CELEBRATORY_FIZZY_BEVERAGE from a beribboned bottle caught in the moment just after the cork pops. (bubbly)
2017 In Review

I didn't keep particularly good notes this year. A lot of things were going on, and I couldn't necessarily talk about them in public at the time.

A lot of things. )

We had a quiet New Year at home. I was still jet-lagged enough to need a nap before midnight. Partner found various countdown live feeds online. We toasted the new year sparkling pomegranate-apple cider at midnight, and kissed.
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Last night late, Pips drove us out to Grandma's.

We'd been supposed to fly out at 8-ish Thursday night. Unfortunately, the hop to Portland got cancelled. The airline shuffled us over to another airline with a direct connection to Detroit, and we arrived only about a half-hour after we were scheduled.

We didn't sleep much, and we lost three hours. So the morning was sleep. At least for me. Belovedest took the opportunity to catch up with their brother before curling up on the air mattress next to me.

There was gaming in the afternoon. I met Pips' wife. Then we made sure our bags were packed for the trip to see my partner's grandmother and ... the rest of the clan.

We got in late. The only one still up was us. So we got packed off to bed.

The bed seems to be a full size mattress. Belovedest is long. I am wide. This was not super super restful, especially with fewer pillows than we wanted. (Next time, there should perhaps be a second checked suitcase for someone, with bedding.)

I was invited to come along with the Sibling Errands, at which point I met Bop (additional sibling). Eldest was off doing a fun 5k. We made a grocery run for Toaster Aunt, then came back to Grandma's.

We returned to the house, and had a late breakfast with the aunt and eldest cousin associated with the house.

Belovedest and I were about to jump in the shower when their mom walked in the room with all the couches where we were planning on Rock Band later. There was much catching up.

After the shower, I braved the main room, and got introduced to a dizzying array of family, including Pops. Apparently Grandma and Grandpa had five kids, and Moms was one of them? And the next generation also had a whole bunch of kids. I met Eldest, and Bop's partner.

I was advised by several relatives to take good care of Belovedest, and that Belovedest was looking the best and happiest they had in years. (I did tell Moms that my intentions towards her long dragon were honorable.)

There was a "Great Scotch Exchange", which differs in this family from the classic White Elephant in that gifts don't fully lock, but they can't be re-stolen in any given round. The unexpected star was a blender. I wound up with an iThing charger. Belovedest got a shirt for their favored hockey team.

The main feast was pizza and salad. The secondary feast, after about 2/3 of the croud had gone, was Chinese takeout.

We added our laundry to the queue. Our room had in the meantime been occupied by a medium-large dog, who chose to greet me with a warning rumble. I averted my eyes and held my hand down politely so I could be sniffed. I didn't have time to be intimidated. I grabbed the laundry without further canine meddling.

After everything was cleaned up, the "kid" generation repaired to the rec room for Rock Band and drinks. (I believe that Pips is the youngest of us, and he got married in 2015.)

And here we are. Belovedest is tearing up the drum set. Mums may be asleep. Pops had been reading in the corner, but sang a few, along with Mums. One of the assorted cousins came to poke at the barn water softener. I'm working on a hard hard lemonade. I expect we'll be up for a while.

Tomorrow, we meet up with Toaster Aunt before Midnight Mass, which is Priest Uncle's farewell service before he retires, apparently.

Pips asked me a very important question: having been through a family Christmas feast, would I be willing to do it again?

Yes. Yes. As long as they'll have me.
azurelunatic: Teddybear that contains ethernet switch.  (teddyborg)
We woke up Monday morning to find there was no internet in the house. I'd guessed it was at the modem level, but testing proved that everything was just fine there. So it was the router. Usually wifi goes first, but even though all the lights looked normal, neither wired nor wireless actually worked. Not even after the appropriate sequence of rebooting.

So there's a new router now, one of those ones with the antennae that make it look a little bit like a drone, or some sort of arcane summoning thing.

It was a bit of a beast to set up, particularly given it required security questions (!) but it's working now, and pretty much everything that had internet before has it again now. (We're still finding devices that were on the 2.4 network, which need the new name. The 5 network is just fine, as it got the same name and key as previous.)


And now, the weather: it's been chilly outside, with frost on the grass and car windows, and ice forming on all the little puddles. That means it's sock weather. I now have a much wider array of wool socks.

The basement is not flooding with quite so much enthusiasm, between the slightly dry-er weather, and the new sandbags.
azurelunatic: aerial view of freeways.  (freeway)
Friday morning, after having roused enough to shower with belovedest and see them off to work, I was awakened by the phone. It was the temp agency, wondering if I could get myself to the Kent area, today. Several people had flaked on an assignment, and it wasn't office work, but ... ???

It seemed that some geniuses in a factory somewhere had carelessly failed to include a screw in ... about 96 ... pallets of floor squeegies. 20 boxes per pallet. 6 squeegies per box.

Thanks to Stray Puppy Girl not having anything more important at that hour, I was able to get there for five-ish hours of opening up the boxes, packing-taping a baggie with a screw to the handles, and re-boxing them.

The job site's address of record is on a street that does not have direct access to the warehouse. This is, succinctly put, bullshit. It was a problem for Stray Puppy Girl dropping me off, and partner picking me up.

We were set up on a table made of pallets and industrial cling-wrap, in sort of an assembly line. There weren't quite enough box cutters or tape guns to go around. The company was good, at least, even though my hands got banged up a little and my feet were very sore.

Belovedest picked me up after they got out of work, since that made the most sense. (That did cut into their date night with Leopard Girl, which was unfortunate, but these things do happen.)

By the time I got home, I was simultaneously ravenous and out of the energy it would have taken to make a meal by myself (partner did offer to help start it, but since they couldn't guarantee that they'd also be present to finish it, that wouldn't help very much). So it was a takeout burger for me. On the way, I burst into tears about the fact that there is a societal expectation that a functional person should be able to do eight hours of manual labor and then cook from scratch. And here I was, nonfunctional after a mere five hours.

The Dr. Pepper did a deal to improve my state of mind.

There was more on Monday. This time, belovedest dropped me off. It was a late night for them at work, so I needed to find my own way home at the end of the day.

The seven person crew powered our way through a hell of a lot of pallets, and finished the job (it could have continued to Tuesday if we hadn't finished). We let out at 3:20.

Some of the same people from the previous day were present. There was one guy who decided he was done with getting older around age 25. Somehow, "18 in the 80s" became "18 in the 1880s", and then I asked if he'd got turned to a vampire at age 25. He'd worked some fascinating jobs, including at a sex toy shop.

I asked if anyone could give me a lift to the nearest bus stop, but nobody was up for that. I debated calling for a ride, and decided that I could walk a mile or so.

Walking the better part of a mile up a hill is certainly a thing. Then there was the downhill and flat part of it. All in all, in my state after working the nearly eight hour day, it took me an hour and a half to get to the bus stop. My bus left as I was waiting to cross the street. (And I'll shortly be emailing the contact person for the city's transportation engineering department, because I had to rely on the common sense of drivers to stop while I was in the crosswalk with a favorable signal. Something should be done.)

Naturally, the following bus was late because of traffic. I squeezed a sensible route out of google maps, and only had one bus transfer. I'd packed for the weather, and had the two extra jackets and the hat to put on while waiting for the local bus after the express dropped me off.

I picked the sensible stop to get off the bus on the local route, having caught up with Dawn on the phone in the meantime. There's this great gnarly hill right by the closest inbound bus stop, so it makes sense to under- or overshoot the stop, and take a more gentle hill. I think the one near park #2 is best.

All that, and I was still late for feeding the cat. She yelled at me. But the automatic feeder had gone off at the appropriate time, so she was merely annoyed and not frantic.

Partner had to help get food into me again, but this time we were expecting it a little more. I was that kind of not-hungry that can sometimes happen after exertion, where the body hasn't quite caught up with the idea that it should start gathering nutrients again just yet. I got myself rinsed off and then snuggled up into bed, where I conked out quite promptly with my partner's arm draped over me.

Glacier

Aug. 12th, 2017 10:17 pm
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.)

Assorted

Aug. 2nd, 2017 02:34 pm
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.

Busy day!

Jul. 13th, 2017 12:20 am
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (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.
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: "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)
Friday: I woke up at a sensible hour, and did housework. Purple emailed me about the afternoon's beer bash, and I collected myself to go to that. I was running a little late, but made it at last, just before Purple arrived himself. I ran into a few people, and saw people from my old team sitting around the fire pit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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


The calendar sharing is going well so far.

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

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

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

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

First I enter the event, with its actual duration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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


After a week and a half of the new meds, I am encouraged at what they're doing with my sleep. That may wind up being a separate entry.
azurelunatic: panic button.  (panic)
Last we properly heard, my partner was preparing for a highly emotionally charged stealth departure to achieve a separation from their abusive ex. (The situation is complicated. Once you get to more than one of the following, you've got a problem: home ownership, bitter breakup, long-term relationship, state-specific laws on property division, laws on property division that vary based on the type of relationship, intimate partner abuse, and probably factors that I'm forgetting and/or don't care to mention.)

As we have possibly come to appreciate, getting out of abusive relationships is hard as fuck. I would like to point out here that I did not in fact "get myself out of" my relationship with Shawn. Shawn asked me for a sexual favor, rudely ) and then told me that he and his new girlfriend were monogamous now, and thereby broke up with me. #classy

Some of the steps. )

There was a document, the Book of Shitty Compromises. Read more... )

That, friends, is what we call a shitty compromise.

My partner was training themselves to notice when they were making a shitty compromise for the sake of homeland tranquility, or at least, non-esclation. They weren't necessarily challenging their ex on things, or doing what they would truly prefer to do, but they were keeping track of those times and things in the Book of Shitty Compromises.

Also in the Book of Shitty Compromises was a checklist, the checklist of things that would have to be done in order to achieve physical separation.

In my professional life, I am pretty confident in my ability to handle logistics for things like little two-day professional conferences for a hundred or so people. That's a lot of moving parts, and (due to past experience) I can't count on me actually being there for every step of the way to direct all the people who are going to need directing. This means checklists.

I am also not the person who is the last word on decisions for this stuff. That means coaxing preferences and event visions out of the people who are actually in charge of that. Sometimes this means coaxing logistical details out of people who are used to executing the event but aren't used to articulating what exactly is needed. Sometimes that means going "Okay, when you say X, what do you have to do to make X happen?" and then, "So when you say you 'just do Y', who do you talk to about that? When does that happen? How do they know where they have to be?"

I brought those skills to bear on my partner. Y'all, if you've never had someone grill you for ... quite a while ... on the details of what you'll actually need to do in order to leave an abusive ex? This is not easy. This is very, very, very not easy. We weren't sure if I was putting too much pressure, not enough, or on the wrong place. And I am so fucking proud of them.

They thought they wouldn't be ready in January. I saw the signs of increasing restiveness in them, and ... wanted to make sure that as much as could be done, was done. Just in case there had to be an unexpected leap.

Saturday the 7th of January, they realized that they'd been pushed too far, that they were still (so, so very) scared, but they were more scared at the prospect of spending another month subjected to the ex's whims and demands and escalation. (And the ex had started escalating again. Verbal abuse, and impossible demands for the terms of the breakup.)

Having started the process to gather muscle to help move and pizza funds (much appreciated, thank you all so much), we realized that one of the bottlenecks was that my partner would have to be in about five places at once if this was going to be conducted as a pinpoint operation and possibly in the presence of the ex.

One of the ex's skills is an attention to detail that includes noticing changes (stuff moved, stuff removed) in the household. My partner got enough grief from a few small changes that they knew pre-packing was a non-starter. So they were left with a few days of tense anticipation but with few actionable items. They also weren't sure how many boxes they'd need; I am the one with the advanced spatial logic skills in this relationship.

My partner was also not rescuing all of their stuff. If they were, it would have been more work, but simpler: pack it all up and go, sort it out later. This was somewhat more strategic: pack up the stuff in order of priority, starting with the stuff that my partner would need for a few weeks crashing with a friend, and going in descending order of priority (of stuff that was theirs and would be hard to replace, expensive to replace, and easy for the ex to mess with if the ex was being vengeful) until either packing materials or time ran out. This meant that my partner had to tell people who they possibly didn't know all that well what to pack, and I could see this getting in the way of everything. They'd have to be running about from room to room directing, when it might take the entire time to corner the Antisocial Cat and get her in the travel cage.

"Can you take pictures of the stuff you want to pack?" I asked. "That won't disturb anything, but maybe I can start estimating the volume or something."

That, they could do. So as part of my organization process in the estimation, I wound up preparing a visual packing list.

I will probably use similar methods to prepare a packing list for myself, when it's my turn to move, since it turned out so well. (My partner can perhaps, at some point, give details on how it worked on their end.)

Read more... )

We gathered support: people with vehicles, people to pack, pizza money. (And a little bit of tea-and-chocolate money that was a holiday gift from a friend of mine.) They confirmed that their friends not quite an hour's drive away were still available to host them. They confirmed maximum availability. I blocked their ex on Facebook before posting a call for help, and tagged people who I suspected wouldn't be able to help, but who might have friends who would be able to help. There were a few people, and one of them was able to help with the unloading.

They went to see the lawyers, and signed papers and paid money for the lawyers' help in getting the ex out of their house and returning their house to them. There was no turning back now. (They still had fears and reservations, and still thought that this might be too cruel to do to the ex. Despite everything the ex had done, and the ex's continual show of bad faith.)

I realized a few things.

My partner was about to do the most terrifying thing of their life.
My partner was about to do the most terrifying thing of their life, not knowing whether their ex was going to be present to interfere.
My partner was about to do something that terrified the snot out of them, and would be entirely absorbed in the process, and therefore unavailable to do anything except engage with the process.
I was too far away to help, and my presence would only burn money and exacarbate any problems with the ex.
I was not going to be okay in the slightest. (I would prove to be less okay than the night before my surgery.)
I was going to need someone to physically be with me, so I wouldn't be alone for this.
Purple had the plague, and couldn't do dinner.
[personal profile] quartzpebble had another engagement that night.
[personal profile] jd could be available after work. I arranged to pick him up from the Caltrain station, and thence to get pizza.

The day came. Tuesday, the 10th of January. The ex had been planning to run some errands. My partner wasn't sure whether the ex would complete the errands before move time. As of 4pm, the ex hadn't left for those errands. My partner wasn't sure whether the ex would have left for those errands by move time. The ex had also asked my partner to do a grocery run, and my partner wasn't sure if that would leave time to pick up one of the people helping move.

I gently suggested that since nothing on the grocery list was super ultra urgent, perhaps the ex could pick up their own god damn groceries the following day.

"Even now, despite everything planned for tonight, I am still in the mode of doing what they want."

Read more... )

And my partner and their cat were safely ensconced in the spare room of some friends, and everyone was safe.


The ex, of course, tried to call (the call was not answered), and texted.
Read more... )

And my partner's terror, slowly, began to ebb, with every day that their ex didn't show up to throw a lawn tantrum at work.

And we are okay.
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
It seems that when my watch crashes in the middle of a sleep session, it does not preserve sleep data. Good to know. Unfortunately, Pebble-the-company is going away, leaving me with a likely-unsupported tech bauble. (One that's a great boon to my life, however...)

The Wednesday/Thursday night was not a great night for sleep, and then the watch crashed, leaving only one hour of sleep out of at least three logged. But I did get enough sleep.

Apparently shipping patterns are not quite back to normal after the holidays, because the new phone that won't keep fucking rebooting itself, the keyboard cover, and the heated CPAP hose, are all at least a day behind the estimated and/or promised delivery time. Alas.

I am in particular impatient about the phone. Though I know if I start doing something inconvenient and sticky, that'll probably be when the delivery arrives ... despite the package tracking not having indicated that it's left the shipment facility. *sigh*

Purple has located delivery pizza that he can eat! This resulted in leftovers, so he wasn't available for dinner out until Wednesday. We decided on pho. It was cold and raining, so I wanted something nice and warm.

It was a lovely time; he brought R along from work, and it's always good to see her. I had grabbed the shirt from her conference off the top of the laundry heap, mostly because I'd worn it recently and it went well with the skirt. (The skirt used to be black. It's since faded to a nice soft gray.)

R had been off communing with penguins and glaciers, and had a number of nice pictures to share.

After dinner, Purple and I went in search of dessert, and R turned into a pumpkin. Among other things, we discussed dreams, and how we're both inclined towards stress-dreams when things are rough, but rarely nightmares.

Naturally, I woke this morning from a legitimate nightmare. Nightmare. )

I've been discussing the logistics of some upcoming stuff with my partner. This has been emotionally difficult, and a bit brain-breaking (so many logistical details, and I'm not there to actually handle any of them; behold my control-freak nature) but we're getting stuff documented.

The replacement phone was due to arrive on Wednesday. It did not, in fact, arrive on Wednesday; somewhere in there I saw the arrival date had changed to Thursday. And then it did not arrive on Thursday. This made me cross, and worried.

I've been using the phrase "Call if you'd like" a lot with the partner. It doesn't necessarily take into account the complexities of their reality, in which they may want to call me but other factors make it unlikely, but it does extend a friendly invitation.

My partner spends a substantial chunk of time on the phone with their ex, for reasons that I find good and sufficient (and that get up my nose, because their ex is a piece of work). My partner has taken to responding to their ex's inquiries about whether they are available to be called with, "Call if you'd like."

The ex has taken a strong exception to this phrase. It implies, you see, that perhaps my partner does not want to be talking to them, and would only begrudgingly do so because the ex had forced the conversation on them. So the phrase makes the ex not want to call, because the ex doesn't like to feel ~unwelcomed~ or like they're ~pushy~ about these friendly social calls. So the ex badgers my partner to not use that phrase. Because that's what friendly exes do, to make sure that all their calls are welcome.

I got to have a nice chat with my partner, as they did in fact want to call me. Unfortunately, I saw the phone ring without either my watch or headset humming at me to let me know that there was a call. So I wound up putting the phone on my face like it was a handset.

I did eventually reboot the phone after we were done talking, and it started acknowledging bluetooth again. Sigh.

I called Darkside to catch up. He was playing Saints Row 3, which is excessively silly. We giggled over it. And I managed to drop a decorative metal basket (with sharp edges) on my hand when moving things around in it, so I shredded two fingernails and a bit of callus on one fingertip. Alas.

Darkside and I generally avoid talking politics. This time I mentioned being afraid. Read more... )

So that was fun.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (blue star)
Having got the CPAP, I seem to have been sleeping more solidly. My watch tells me about a lot of nights of 8+ hours of sleep. Of course, I haven't decreased my amount of time in bed yet. My friends claim I may be making up for oceans of sleep dep...


I'm catching up on reading, still. I'm tidying. I'm contemplating. I'm keeping up with my exercise. I'm waiting to hear from various job prospects.


There are still health things I have to take care of, but I feel like the big ones are on their way towards resolution.


My partner has survived the winter break. Next step: talking to professionals about things. We had a nice long chat yesterday about stuff. Today's chat was much shorter, as they were working on other things.


Ev's winter break is not over yet. She got a library position, and has been assigned the tedious things. Thank fuck for normal problems. Tedious winter break job is a normal problem. [Various mother shenanigans] are not normal problems.


Yesterday was time to make me un-shaggy. I trimmed my bangs. Today was the re-blue-ing session.


I checked in with Purple about dinner. He has quite a bit of very good leftover pizza, so he was going to work on that rather than do dinner out tonight. An excellent reason to not go out! It's also windy and rainy. It's been enough of that to make it cold-ish inside, so I've had to wear socks from time to time. The horror!

My phone was supposed to arrive tomorrow (Wednesday). Unfortunately, it seems to be on track to arrive Thursday, instead...


Australia, and contemplations of arachnids in a different sense than the usual. )


I know that not all of the Dreamwidth documentation is up to date. At some point soonish, there may be a docs party. My friends who are perhaps wandering in may be positioned to help by virtue of their neophyte perspective: if there's something that the docs are inadequate in answering, this might be a good place for the docs crew to start working on filling in the gaps.

Quiet day

Jan. 1st, 2017 11:34 pm
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
I imagine that with enough exposure, I will learn the loops and angles of my partner's handwriting. The addressed envelope on my clean desk already seems less alien.

I cleaned, for new year's eve. I wanted to start the year with a clean desk and no dirty dishes. And it came to pass.

I got a solid start on my quilt. It's going to be haphazard, I know. But it'll be my kind of haphazard. I swapped out the old broken keyboard for the new one. Same model. I won't be able to keep using the same model forever, but I hope to get another four+ years out of the new one. By that point there may be something new and delightful on the market.

My watch isn't keeping proper track of my average step count. Ordinarily I'd expect some fluctuation as days pass, but it hasn't done that. So I'll have to look at the averages elsewhere. And it turns out that my average actually passed my goal, the goal that had been out of sight between the surgery and the depression. So now I've got a new goal.

At some point my feelings about LiveJournal became, approximately: "I love and trust my friends there, but they're not the ones making the decisions." And now I hear that it's possible that there's no-one working there that I know anymore. (Well. I knew one person in the Moscow office, and had heard the names of others, so I wouldn't want the Moscow office to be trampled by angry yaks.) And the servers no longer have California IP addresses, and (I hear) some pro-Ukraine blogs have turned up missing, after the move. And there are much weaker protections on user privacy over there.

So that's a thing that's happening.

I don't know what country has the best user protection laws these days. There's a new [site community profile] dw_news post up, on the recent events.

Cloudflare, DW's CDN, was hit particularly hard by the leap second. Earlier, there was a DW web server misbehaving. kab got Mark out of bed for that one.

There's now a need for Russian-speaking volunteer support. The old is new again.

I made the mistake of getting chewable vitamin C tablets, instead of the easily swallowed variety. While I'm swallowing them all the same, this means that their fake-orange taste leeches onto the tongue. This would be less of a problem, except my spironolactone is peppermint-flavored. I'm becoming accustomed to the orange-juice-and-toothpaste effect of taking my pills, now...

Part of the quiet effect of the day is less chatter with my partner. Uncharitable words about the ex. )
azurelunatic: Axial tilt is the reason for the season. (Festive red & green text; diagram of Earth's axial tilt.) (axial tilt)
09:10 PM Thursday, December 29, 2016
Plan for Friday: chill with Purple before dinner.

Could also get half-and-half.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* (2015) Learned I was losing my beloved administrative assistant/Yelling as a Service job, due to Silly Valley contract shenanigans.
* Mourned this loss...
* ... until I learned that my entire second department was being downsized and offshored. Then I got mad.
* Read the riot act about same to the CEO, in front of a whole-company meeting.
* Worked to hang on to some of the important friendships I had made over the course of my four years.
* Helped run a conference!
* Learned that someone I knew in my youth had gone on to do something that they really oughtn't to have done, and dealt with that information the best way I knew how.
* Presented at Open Source Bridge.
* Got up the nerve to declare myself to the person I'd been low-key flirting with since the last Open Source Bridge.
* Was kissed by this person. (Kissed them back.)
* Didn't do anything super dumb.
* Started the sort of heavy-duty communication that a very intimate but complicated relationship is going to need, just in the off chance one developed.
* ... Ooops.
* Helping my friend (and, later, dearest primary partner) begin the long, painful, and difficult process of Dealing With All The Things.
* Hysterectomy. (Plus tubes, ovaries, and bonus lymph nodes.)
* Cancer.
* Made things actually official with my primary partner, much to the relief of everyone following the saga.
* Radiation.
* Recovery.
* Fuck my sleep schedule.
* Declared my feelings to someone else, also with a not-terrible outcome. :)
* Started making tentative plans for relocation.
* Fishmummed, and saw my baby girl for winter break! #nobodydied #homefortheholidays

This was not a quiet year for me.

Compared to this time last year, I'm cancer-free. I'm in a relationship that is like a substantial external battery of capability and cope, and we seem to be mutually supportive and both still a little codswalloped over our good luck.

A lot of things about 2016 have sucked, but getting my uterus out, getting together with my partner, getting my partner pointed in the direction of freedom, and starting a very interesting conversation with a certain former co-worker -- all of those were good.

Quilt?

Dec. 29th, 2016 09:09 pm
azurelunatic: Bust of Archimedes. "Eureka: (interj) the bath is too hot." (eureka)
Today was a day for trying to come back to normal: for attempting to unearth my desk from its accumulation of items, for putting away the air mattress now that Ev is safely back out of state and won't be suddenly needing my floor again, for looking at the candidate shirts for my tech company quilt.

I spent some time at a particular tech company, one that is t-shirt happy. Now that I'm no longer there, the shirts have very little use, other than to clothe me, and I'm doing fairly well on that on my own. I don't sleep in t-shirts, and while there's always some use for knit fabric scraps, I'm full up on those from all the dead pairs of shorts.

However, I do have a fairly ugly comforter that is nearing the end of its normal life. I also treasure that time in my life, and want a way to bring some of the artefacts of the time forward in a way that's friendly to my eventual plan of moving out of state. And I've got a sewing machine.

I grew up thinking about quilts as something that had to be carefully cut with precision tolerences and heavy equipment, and planned out on paper (later, computer), but the tradition of quilting has always included "woops, this dress is super worn out, but I love the fabric and it reminds me of good times", and "aaaaa I just need to cover this blanket in something".

So perhaps, in the coming weeks, I'll throw together a quilt, to remind me of the good times at Virtual Hammer, and something that can be folded up neatly in a corner of the closet without feeling like I'm wasting precious space, then spread on a bed to keep me warm.

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

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