"Wearing My New Hat To Town" is a game my sister and I used to play, usually with laundry baskets.

1: Locate a household object that will not kill you if placed on/over your head.
2: Announce "I'm wearing my new hat to town!"
3: Parade about the house.
4: If you like, you can sing a little song about it while you're doing it.

We played this game regularly.

It takes me way too long to wind down from anything, especially because my brain needs to process stuff. I am missing months from when I have not processed properly.

I woke up sooner than I thought I would given my bedtime, but I was generally groggy until the time I actually should have woken up. Isn't that always the case with me? I'm no good to anyone until the time I should have been awake anyway, and only sometimes do I get to prop myself up with caffeine and fake it. I can act, sometimes, while all bleurgh. Sometimes. That does make things surreal for those around me.

The fun with cleverthylacine's phone started when it called me instead of wherever she was supposed to be calling for some errand. I saw that missed call and called my aunt to figure out what we were doing because I'd hoped to get some combination or other of JD/Ryan & Tif together to meet my sister. (Brain was not firing on all thrusters, and these days schedule coordination with Tif has been the low-effort thing. Must see the guys at some point soonish.) I learned that Tay's plan for the morning involved a hike up Telegraph Hill to watch the pretty birdies, and there was dinner. Plans for a craft sort of afternoon were quickly scrapped when I learned that Tif's phone call had been her phone's idea, but dinner was a go.

Eventually I got her picked up, we collected a gluten-free entree (plus dessert, and happy goat cheese) at Trader Joe's (and met some old buddies of hers), and there was dinner. Dinner and hilarity!

The major world-changing accomplishment of the night was introducing Tay to the concept of the vuvuzela. Tay has spent the past 10 years mostly avoiding the internet and seriously music-geeking, so she is both rather out of tune (heh) with pop culture (she was first introduced to Dragostea din Tei via the crappy song that samples it, through work radio, rather than on the internet or at a Thanksgiving celebration like many of the rest of us) and slightly alarmed that there was a musical instrument that she knew nothing of. She is already attempting to figure out interesting things to do with them.

During my first (disaster-ridden) attempt at college in 1998/9, someone left some "grapefruit body splash" in the exchange basket in the dorm bathroom. I picked it up. I wasn't absolutely in love with it, but it was all right. And I came home with it.

Now, I have a little sister. Biological and all that, rather than being one of the plethora of internet siblings I've picked up. Naturally, when she saw that I had a bottle of grapefruit body splash, she sniffed it. "Eww!" she said, and thrust the bottle from her. "That's disgusting!" Then she grabbed the bottle back and took a great big whiff of it. "Ewww!" she said again, making an even worse face and holding the bottle away from herself. *snifffff* "Eww!"

This went on for a while, until I eventually took the bottle from her.

Evidently it was some irresistible kind of unbelievably disgusting to her. She had to keep sniffing it to make sure that it was as disgusting as she thought it was, and kept finding that it was (and possibly worse), so bad that she could not believe it, and had to inhale again to make sure it was as bad as she thought...

A virtuous sibling would have then made sure that the grapefruit body splash was put away somewhere that she would never have to get into a cycle of sniffing again. Yes. That's exactly what a virtuous sibling would have done.

Every now and then, when I was feeling particularly wicked, I would pluck the bottle of grapefruit body splash from amongst my toiletries and thrust it, cap open, in my sister's face, setting off another round of compulsive sniffing and recoiling until I took the bottle away.

Ahh, good times.

Here we have Cello and Larkspur, two of the roosters my family had when I was younger. I was in my mid-teens at this time. Cello is the tall Black Langshan (same breed as Xiao Ji); Cello was named by one of Dad's little friends who had just been learning the cello. Larkspur was my sister's rooster, and a particularly sweet little fellow. He and Cello were the best of friends.



Much to everyone's dismay, Larkspur was carried off by some predator or other. My sister was heartbroken. She got a replacement rooster of the same breed, and he was named Snapdragon.

( My sister and Snapdragon. )

I thought pet weddings were for, you know, people under the age of ten. My family held two pet weddings -- one for one of the roosters and his #1 hen, and one for my sister's duck and her hapless drake. My baby sister was the driving force behind all of this. Since I was 12 or so, my sister must have been about 10. These are as I remember them, so, like any good story, they will have gotten better in the telling. But I think these are close to how they actually happened.

The chicken wedding was a lot of fun, because everyone involved was treating it like the elaborate joke it was. It followed hot on the heels of my baby sister's favorite violin teacher getting married in an elaborate swirl of pageantry. In retrospect, I can see how the adults were treating it as a much-needed venting of all the things they couldn't say about that wedding. (The chicken couple actually lasted longer, because they were fundamentally compatible, both full adults of their species, and he didn't wander off any more than usual when one of her eggs hatched. By the time the Bantam Bantam was widowed courtesy of a hungry dog, the human couple had dissolved in a storm of parenthood and irresponsibility.)

It went off beautifully -- the bride was radiant in the lovely cream and white dress that Mama had made for her (and too cooperative to try and back out of it -- it was basically a fabric funnel with enough room for her head to stick out the front, and lace around the edges) and the groom was not actively flapping and squawking (disgruntled but too dignified to make a fuss), and ever so handsome in a black felt vest that fitted neatly under his wings.

The ceremony was held outside, in our clubhouse/stage. (Mama had built it some time previously; it was a little shack with a side that could be lowered and propped on a bench, forming a platform suitable for dramatic performances. There were even curtains.) Decorations consisted of a piece of metal wiring conduit, bent into a crude arch, secured at each side of the stage, and festooned with tissue paper flowers. "The Arch of Happiness," Dad called it.

Dad pronounced appropriate vows for chickens (the rooster had to keep a watch out for stray dogs and goshawks, and when calling his hens over for food, he wasn't supposed to eat it all himself; I think the hen was supposed to stick close to the flock and not wander off into the woods and get eaten and a few other appropriate things), and the happy couple ate a cornbread muffin and we humans used it as an excuse for a summer party.


In contrast, the duck wedding was not quite a complete fiasco, but it came close a few times. The little round brown hen had been my sister's special pet once the chick had hatched, but then my sister got the idea of ducks in her head. So there were ducks. And then, after one of the ducks (mine) died, my sister decided we needed two ducks, and since she was going to be wanting to breed ducks later and have ducklings, wouldn't it make sense to have a drake? And why, our virtual aunt had one! And then once there was the drake, my sister set her sights on a wedding. And not just any wedding. She was determined that while the chicken wedding had been Good, this Duck Wedding would be Perfect.

Now, a few words about my sister. The phrase "give an inch, and they'll take a mile" was invented to describe her. She had decided at an early age that she was going to try to use debate, logic, and pure filibustering to get her way when it wasn't given to her immediately. She had learned her lesson about whining (don't), but she would bring up the same topics again and again, talking about the benefits of giving her what she wanted in such a pleasant and reasonable tone that it actually started to seem like almost a good idea, for the hour you were listening to her talk to you. You'd remind her of past disasters, and she would tell you, with the conviction born of true belief, that such a thing could never happen this time after all the lessons she'd learned from the past disaster. (The possibility of different disasters never seemed to occur to her.)

She was a born saleswoman, and would soon have you agreeing that yes, that made sense, and that, and that -- never noticing that the slippery slope that she was leading you down was actually the way to you giving her what she wanted. And then once you were out of range, you realized what a stupid thing you'd just agreed to. My parents followed the admirable and honorable idea of treating us like human beings, so once they said yes to us about something, they would not take back their word unless it was for a very good reason -- the same courtesy they'd extend to another adult. My sister wound up getting her way a lot. And when my sister was on a Mission to accomplish something -- once she had the go-ahead -- all pretenses of rationality would drop, and she would become a singleminded demon in pursuit of whatever the hell it was that she was trying to accomplish this time.

The duck wedding was no exception. My sister proceeded to make the lives of the rest of us fairly miserable in classic Mother of the Bridezilla fashion. Nothing was too good for her precious duck and the Ducky Wedding. A simple cotton print funnel with lace edges would not be good enough for Her Duck, so Mama struggled with uncooperative synthetic satin to produce a creation that wouldn't trip the bride up by hanging down too far in the front, but hung flatteringly over the duck's broad feathery back. There was a veil, too. The groom's costume was more of a pain, with something like a tail coat and a shirt front attached to a collar with a bow-tie. Also slippery evil satin stuff. Mama's patience wore thin. Tay-Tay's patience wore thinner. There was snarling and snapping. I probably didn't help much, hanging around the outskirts and making sarcastic commentary.

This wedding had specifically invited guests, rather than just whoever wanted to show up for the party. The chicken wedding could have easily been rescheduled in case of natural disaster; there was just a cake and some cornbread. The duck wedding somehow wound up with the sort of lavish preparations I associated with one of Mama's all-out holiday parties. I kept my head down and watched from as safe a distance as I could manage.

And then -- on the eve of the wedding -- disaster.

It's relatively easy to corner chickens and make them dress up. Not so with ducks. Ducks are grimy and like mud. Tay-Tay was going to go corner the duck and bring her inside in the cage for the night, so she'd be ready in the morning when it was time to dress her up and start the wedding. Now, ducks are notoriously flaky creatures. The duck had a history of maneuvers like this, so it just figured that on the eve of her wedding, she would have to go and sneak out of the pen somehow, and completely disappear.

My sister was ... distraught. To put it mildly. There was weeping and wailing. My sister's entire LIFE depended on the Duck Wedding going perfectly, and the Duck Wedding would do no such thing if the bride was not there -- lost, fled, DEAD... The night was dreadful. Once Tay-Tay had decided that something would be Just So, then woe awaited anyone or anything that thwarted her in her plans. This conspiracy of nature against her carefully-plotted wedding was an order of magnitude above the usual histrionics. I fled the scene in terror.

We were all up early the following morning. Despite my irritation with my little sister, I was worried about the duck too. She was a nice enough duck, and it would be a shame if something had happened to her. We stomped around the edge of the woods calling the name of her duck. (What self-respecting duck comes when called?) Just as we were about to give up, we heard a muffled quack from the tall weeds at the edge of the woods. There was my sister's errant duck, sitting quite comfortably on what was clearly a nest. My sister snatched up the duck and began lecturing her about running away and getting everyone worried.

The wedding proceeded mostly as planned. Granted, the bride refused to wear her veil, and the groom was inattentive and flappy, and I'm sure my sister melted down at least once. But then it was over. Mama put down her foot at that point, and there were No More Critter Weddings. (Even though our two roosters Cello and Larkspur should at least have had a commitment ceremony or something, because they were always together and ignored the hens, even though with their relative sizes it never would have worked out physically.)

The filing crate (a commercial descendant of the milk crate) secured to others with cable ties could be a strong presence in the ways of householdery that I follow. Not for decorative purposes, because it's ghastly, but for something structural and effective and modular, it beats wire-frame shelving of that same general sort all hollow, because it has its own structural integrity that isn't those blasted plastic connectors. There's a three-crate stack behind the head of the bed for the alarm clock and now Allegra; Allegra will be retrofitted with a NIC sometime Really Soon Now.

Yesterday I got two calls, probably both about the same class of thing. One of them was automated with a number to call back as a matter of some urgency. The other was a Real Live Human Being. The Real Live Human Being was looking for Marx. I suspect Bill Issues. The automated one got forwarded to my cellphone the other day, and didn't get answered. I have an address book entry for the bill collectors of other people in my cellphone, now, just so it'll flash something useful with the Caller ID.

Qwest's IVR doesn't know what to do when you sneeze at it repeatedly, and will try to forward you to a Live Human Being.

Performed the periodic "take stuff off bed, put back on" today, because there was much of the falling-off of futon. I'd gone to bed around seven-thirty-ish, and was nicely asleep, but the phone rang. It was Tay-tay. Yay catching up with little sisters! In semi-coincidence, she mentioned a general "hmm, I wonder if hanging out with my cousin would be fun," for values of "cousin" who go to Reed. I have every faith that the results could be the sort of Family Bonding that's truly scary for a non-family onlooker, especially if pink. (And I do have the late-night brain, but trust me when I say that I at least know what I mean. "Get on like a house on fire" is the usual phrase, if somewhat insensitive given that my Virtual Aunt just had a stack fire and lost some roof.)

sionainn go out with iroshi? Straight chick + bi chick = mass confusion. So probably not.
2) When did you last call chorus_of_chaos? Not sure if it was within the last year, actually...
3) Is tygerr a nerd? I'd more precisely call him a geek. This is a good thing.
4) What planet should chorus_of_chaos be from? Somewhere with a lot of moons.
5) Where was atalantapendrag born? Earth.
6) Did hcolleen break up with you? She'd have had to date me first for that.
7) Would you set up sithjawa and boojum? No. But boojum set up sithjawa and me, does that count?
8) What would trickofthedark give deeahblita for his/her birthday? Some delightfully drawn porn.
9) Do you have a crush on shadesong? On her writing, maybe.
10) Is norabombay single? Definitely.
11) Would kellinator and chorus_of_chaos look good together? Dunno. I don't think there'd be a great meeting of the minds there, though.
12) Would you ever date wibbble? Not right now. And only if his wife approved. ;-P
13) How long have you known mamadeb? Since I was in my teens, actually. lmbujold's e-mail list is a great place.
14) Is sionainn athletic? She's a wench, which is better.
15) Has atalantapendrag dyed their hair? Probably.
16) What do you disagree with tsjafo about? We haven't actually had very many in-depth conversations, but I'd imagine there might be places, especially politically, where we'd agree on a principle and disagree on implementation.
17) What comic book character would elysianmusings be? A superhero ballet teacher? Do they draw such women?
18) Do you have smmc's screenname? Sure do.
19) If figment0 commanded an army, who would be his/her followers? Oh, dear. Um. Either a lot of Mormons, a lot of gamergeeks, or both.
20) What do you agree with amberfox about? Lots of things. Especially that we probably need to be local.
21) How would digitalambience conquer the world? By wheeling and dealing his way to the top.
22) Has tyrantmouth been to your house/dorm? Alas, no. We are not local enough for that to be a regular occurrence, either.
23) Does rubrchick drink? I suppose she might. Especially water.
24) How long would tigergladys dating amberite last? It might not even start, but if it did, probably a month or two.
25) Is thette popular? Hulda, or at least Hulda's bread, is. Yay fen! Yay game!
26) Where was trollprincess born? Also Earth. She at least grew up in the Pennsylvania part of Earth, one of the parts that is not one of those two big cities.
27) Where did you first meet raranax? At Grandma's. That was the visit where I sat on the cactus.
28) Would you wrestle silmarian in jello? Perhaps. I'm not sure his wife's as comfortable with me as she was, and I'm not sure how Darkside would take it.
29) Do you think elorie is hot? Haven't met her. Can't say.
30) What animal should popefelix be combined with? Perhaps a ferret or a lemur.
31) Is nalidoll your best friend? Darkside's got that spot, but she could be close.
32) Is trickofthedark in a relationship? Married, even.
33) What is easalle's favorite movie? Utena, I think.
34) If elysianmusings and pharminatrix were spliced together, what would it be like? A super-concentration of a billion different kinds of artistic.
35) Is cawingcrow related to sunshinegirl? Nope.
36) What exotic animal would ataniell93 like as a pet? She might well enjoy a snake, or Bad Tom before he went all bad.
37) What would you do if chorus_of_chaos died? Mourn. Possibly see if there was anyone local who could pay a certain man a certain kind of visit.
38) Does amberite know meacu1pa? Don't think so. Two different worlds.
39) Is rubrchick dead sexy? I'm assured so.
40) If tomb_of_osiris took over the world, who would be happy? Geeks everywhere.
41) If mamadeb and sithjawa were spliced together, what would be its name? Mama Sith. There would be scary cooking.
42) Does metaphorge have a crush on chorus_of_chaos? Nah.
43) Which president would bekithewitch be likely to idolize? Scotland doesn't have presidents. But it wouldn't be the Shrubbery.
44) What color should rubrchick dye their hair? Black, to match.
45) Would you make out with boojum? You should have asked me this before she got married.
46) Is meacu1pa an emo? I think there's a rule you can't be emo over age 25 or so.
47) How many monkeys could iroshi fight at once and win against? Lots.
48) Does onyxrising do drugs? Sidhe don't have to do drugs.
49) What video game does raranax remind you of? That text-based game where the currency is meat.
50) Are smmc and sithjawa married? Not to each other. And the Sith is not married. (Do Sith marry?)
51) If garnetdagger and nilo were Siamese twins, where would they be joined? The elbow, and they would have to have five hands.
52) Does elynne travel a lot? Not physically.
53) Where would karlita most like to visit? Nifty places around the entire world.
54) If juuro were hanging off a cliff, what would onyxrising do? Snap photos of the climbing feat in progress.
55) Could you see elance and metaphorge together? Not for particularly long, and I think her husband might be annoyed if he hadn't been consulted first.
56) Would thette and onyxrising make a good couple? Her husband also might be annoyed, but they would have tremendous fun scheming.
57) What is amberfox's shoe size? I'd guess 9.
58) What flavor of jello would tomb_of_osiris be? Lemon.
59) Have you flirted with grifyn? No. She is straight. Also married. I do not want to scare people. Too much.
60) Does sithjawa smoke? No. We would have to send the cigarettes to Antarctica too.
61) melcocha's eye color? Dark. And she has the gorgeous hair!
62) How tall is tigergladys? Tall enough to be beset by hamsters!
63) What is tsjafo's favorite band/artist? I think he's a lmbujold fan.
64) One thing you can't stand about lasayla? SHE DISAPPEARED OFF THE FACE OF THE INTERNET FOR A YEAR!!!
65) Have you ever dated chorus_of_chaos? No.
66) If elorie was a superhero, who would be his/her archnemesis? Stupid Person.
67) Is amberite a college student? Yep!
68) Which of your friends should swallowtayle go out with? I can't answer that on the grounds that she's my sister.
69) Would reichiere be a better ninja or pirate? Pirate.
70) What would sorcha007 think of eng1ne? Yay, a geek!
71) What is elance's favorite food? Strawberries? *arch look*
72) What rank would lasayla have in a giant robot army? Commander, chief snarker, or high-ranked minion.
73) What mental disorder does shadesong remind you of? sickhippo.
74) What is smmc's favorite game? WoW!
75) What would dustraven do differently in your shoes? Have very sore feet.
76) What animal does trystan_laryssa remind you of? Badger?
77) What would you do if you found out godai has a crush on you? "If I found out"? I seem to recall I flirted outrageously and had cybersex.
78) One quality you find attractive in raranax? He's both related and awesome.
79) Is cawingcrow related to you? Does the corvid thing count as related? Then yes.
80) Is sorcha007 friends with aratina? If they met, they would be.
81) Are hardartist and aratina going steady? Nope.
82) What languages does tygerr speak? English, probably some scraps of fan-created languages, likely snippets of Spanish, and both Geek and the Language of Luuuuuurve.
83) Does grifyn have a dog? shiba_inu is The Big Dog, so that would be a yes.
84) What is grifyn's biggest flaw? Probably paranoia. And not enough spare time.
85) Does raranax go to your school? Alas, no.
86) Does reichiere have a big secret? If so, her cats know it.
87) What is swallowtayle's favorite color? Not orange anymore.
88) Thoughts on popefelix? GEEK!!! (This is a good thing.)
89) Is ataniell93 a high school student? Long past that.
90) What word best describes tattooedchick? Emotional.
91) Is mamadeb 1337? Not quite that old yet. But she's more tech-savvy than many people in my parents' generation, without falling prey to abhorrent internet-specific abbreviations.
92) If chorus_of_chaos took over the world, who would suffer? The current mismanaged incestuous abusive healthcare system.
93) What song/movie would you recommend to bekithewitch? It would help if I knew her taste in music, but it's hard to go wrong with "White Reflection", because it makes me hyper.
94) Is silmarian introverted or extroverted? Introverted.
95) What is hardartist allergic to? Time-wasting e-mails like the ones he asks people not to send in his comic's site's FAQ.
96) If cawingcrow had a superpower, what would it be? Super Poly Organization!
97) Are popefelix and jdllama going out? I guess I don't have enough gay guys on the friendslist to warrant forcing opposite-sex pairings.
98) rubrchick's hair color? Dark. This has the added advantage of not showing up backstage.
99) How would popefelix kill elynne? Pun war.
100) Do metaphorge and rubrchick go to the same school? It would help if either of them were in school.

Dreamed that I was here, in the apartment, and that Mama was calling from Sis's cellphone to say that hot_chocolate's successor was sick and we had to take him to the vet. At this same time, I was moving my stuff out of the living room, and FatherSir and swallowtayle were teasing each other and me and FatherSir was doing his usual running commentary on the things (regarding a MoveOn.org book, on its political strategy, "That's how it gets its hooks into you.") I was quietly freaking out in my room with the door closed, because I just could not take it any more. swallowtayle had been remixing something she'd recorded with some music from some rap song, sampling the intro and layering that over a song that was already decent and making it pretty damn awesome.

There was something going on at work. I was wandering around, and it was the freshstartwrite ladies there, having a sort of get-together in the bathroom, and I was trying to figure out how to work on P's papers that needed grading. It was sort of like my job, only we were all gaming or reading in the booths instead of being on the phone with people. Hee.

But I was stressing trying to find the papers, and not knowing what they looked like nor how I was supposed to mark them...

It was a relief when the phone rang and woke me up from more job stress while sleeping.

After a while, we had the "froggy little roosters", as they were called when they'd just turned into that croaking teenage stage of chick-hood, still rather indeterminate as to sex. We'd named them Hematite and Onyx, both of them being pure black, having learned the wisdom of androgynous names such as plant or mineral. Both were banties, and both turned out to be hens. Onyx was Narcissa's, and Onyx was an Old English: broad, prominent breast, lovely fan-tail, and more eyes than brain, the pure barely polished black of her name. Hematite was mine, and a banty Sumatra, with short black comb and greenly iridescent shine on her feathers, long tail drooping like a raven's. Hematite and Onyx were as sisters, and went everywhere together.

Their first winter, Onyx took sick, and the two had to come in the house while she recovered. We'd earlier tried, and discovered our error, at grabbing one of the two to pet and hold without grabbing the other. Onyx would cry (piercingly: Old English screech!) and Hematite would fret in her raven-voiced way.

FatherSir discovered, on his own, the folly in grabbing just one. He'd picked up Onyx, and he'd picked her up with less care than he might have, and she yelled about it. That set off Hematite. FatherSir found, much to his surprise, that he was holding two little black hens: Onyx, in his hand, and Hematite, dangling by her beak with a mouthful of the skin of the back of his hand in her sharp little mouth, screeching bloody murder all the while.

The neighbors came over, to see what was the matter.

After that, no one separated Hematite and Onyx.


Onyx got the idea in her cute little black head with the floppy red comb that she, after her winter in the house, needed to lay her tiny white eggs in the bathroom. Nothing would do with the nest boxes in the henhouse. She'd fuss about them, scream about them... we decided, after comparing the size of the egg (she laid every other day) and the size of the bird, that the eggs must have really bad cramps along with them. Mama and I sympathized.

So Hematite and Onyx would hop up onto the steps and wait until someone opened the screen door, and jump in the house.

One day, the door was completely closed, and Onyx wanted to come in. Narcissa and Mama and I were doing something, when there was a disturbance at the window by the couch. Silly little Onyx was trying to perch on the moulding of the outside of the picture window, and not doing a very good job, as it was so narrow. She beat her wings against the window, trying to keep her balance.

We rushed to the door to tell Onnie to get her fool self off the window ledge before she bashed her silly little head against the glass. As we swept aside the screen door, Hematite jumped up, and a few moments later, Onyx came running around the corner and leaped in the house after Hematite.

It got to be a habit for them, after that. Onyx would knock on the window, and Hematite would wait around the corner at the door, to distract the person from closing the door until Onyx got inside.