Tuesday not dictated
Oct. 28th, 2025 10:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rolanniTuesday. Sunny and cool.
Woke up without pain! Two hours later, I do have a tiny ache, which is entirely livable, and I'm shaking bad, but shaking doesn't hurt. Onward.
Scrambled an egg with onion, garlic, and sweet pepper, and toasted the last bits of homemade bread to top with sour cherry jam for breakfast. Which is the first thing I've been able to make and eat in, um, four days. Yes, I do know how to lose five pounds in four days. Not recommended.
Someone had asked if there wasn't anyone who could help with the food, and, err no. The issue this weekend wasn't my usual antipathy to actually making food (I could have ordered in, if that had been the case), but that the pain was so bad, I couldn't eat. I won't bore you with how difficult it is to convince yourself to eat two spoonfuls of cottage cheese so you can take the Tylenol, but trust me -- No Fun.
I'm still doing Tylenol, and may hit the ache with some CBD lotion on my way back to Steve's office after I finish this note, which is not dictated, but I'm feeling so much better -- I can't tell you.
Embroidery is still off the table for tonight. Ellen has courageously agreed to drive me to the cancer center (and back!) at stupid o'clock tomorrow, which is one less thing to worry about, and a load off my ... back. Am I going to stained glass on Thursday? Let's get through today and tomorrow first.
I did snatch a moment out of a relatively pain-free half-hour yesterday to painter-tape cardboard to the inside of the Problematic Table. Do I think Rookie will try to go through the no-longer-big-enough space between the table bars, and get stuck again? How do I know? He's a cat. The best I, a mere human, can do is Plan for the Worst.
I think that's all the news. I have three more Bits to do for the Sekrit Project, and my inbox and physical desktop are a mess.
The Plan is to make myself another cup of tea, go back to Steve's office, do the Bits, reassess, and see if settling in with a heating pad and a book is my next best move, or I'm up for More Adventure.
What're your plans for the day?
In case you missed it, the cats declared Selfie Tuesday
Have you really thought about it?
Oct. 27th, 2025 05:06 pmjohnpalmerCan you imagine the picadores who, if they find your weak spot, will go all "why are you hitting yourself John? Why are you hitting yourself?" only, verbally, knowing I can't counter them, even though I should be able to?
Can you imagine being vulnerable, in public? Like, at all? Especially if you have an abusive past, where it's reasonable and natural to think someone wants to hurt you?
Can you imagine when people mistake your difficulty speaking (and attendant frustration) for anger, or abusive behavior?
Can you imagine just deciding it's better to be wrong, always, than to try to explain, after trying to explain caused you enough pain for a lifetime?
It's like, I'm a Vulcan who can't engage in touch-telepathy, you see? Everyone knows that "everyone can talk." And no one thinks that talking malfunctions, much less thinks that brains malfunction. So the one thing that everyone expects to be perfect, will always be marred for me. Even if my touch is almost telepathic, and more than sufficiently empathic.
I had this interesting, sweet thought that, back in college, when I traded backrubs for companionship and semi-intimate talk and touch (nothing sexual - I was a perfect gentleman). If I had wanted to, I probably could have traded backrubs for very careful introductions to "dating for the man who is terrified, because his neurology is sure to betray him." I might even have gotten laid. It's probably for the best that I didn't, though. Probably would have been best if I stopped trying for sex with all girlfriends I met through 2003. But who knows that their neurology is going to deny them a normal sexual experience, one that would be best left unshared? Certainly not me - I was demanding some form of normalcy in my life, and I didn't get it, which sucks, but, my experience is vastly outside the normal range... don't think you're going to have my problems, unless you have severe, pelvic-and-below region, neurological pain. In that case, I do know some excellent monasteries, firewatch outposts, the perfect temperature for cold showers....
It's not that hopeless, but, while the neuro pain is there, my experience says that it can interfere with pleasure. That is not something doctors expect - even if Mr. Happy is droopy and sad looking, the right kind of stimulus should make him very happy indeed, even if he doesn't shed flaccidity. So neuro pain might put you in the realm where you need to figure out your own sex issues, with less help from experts than most people get. Don't give up hope - but if you have a dry spell, try to stop asking for help, before your partner hates you for asking. (Yes, kids, this is all in the realm of "ask your parents.")
If I can be with you, where words don't matter, then maybe you'll get to know me, and love me, but until then, I'm a bit like a blind person, stumbling, looking for the stones that are the correct color to present to my friend, or my beloved, and then, remembering which stone type is which, for fear of offense for offering the wrong color stone, or one that has become less shiny, though it still feels well polished.
Why I'm a "creep."
Oct. 26th, 2025 02:21 pmjohnpalmerYou float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fuckin' special
But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here
I say the chorus “kinda” goes like that, because “But I’m a creep...” is the actual first line of the chorus, yet the lines starting with “Float like a feather…” are repeated, multiple times through the song, just prior to the official chorus.
The movie is “Radio,” a 2003 movie starring Cuba Gooding Jr. in the title role, as James Robert “Radio” Kennedy, an intellectually disabled man who is befriended by the local high school football coach. At one point, the coach defends Radio’s presence at the high school, saying they’re teaching him some stuff, but that’s not the point. He’s teaching them too – the way he treats everyone, all the time, is the way people wished they’d treat each other, even some of the time. And that’s something I don’t need a whole lot of instruction on, though I might need to remind myself of a few lessons from time to time… and I can still suck at being able to evoke that love, due to my pain and exhaustion.
Radio, as portrrayed by Gooding, showed uncomplicated, unafraid, love for people, not unlike the love shown by a well loved, happy, child, where, if you join in a play activity, you’re their best friend in the world, at least in the moment. We have that capacity, as children, but, as time goes on, and life gets harder, harsher, and more complicated, we might guard ourselves far more closely, and even lose the ability to get lost in love. Radio didn’t lose that capacity; that was why his friendship was so valuable, to so many people.
When I have an established relationship with someone, I can feel love like that. This is part of what I mean, when I discuss how intentionality is a big piece of my life; I don’t merely work through the motions of loving, I open my heart, and think of that love we know from childhood. And to close the loop, I’m now wondering if my own neurology is partway to blame (for good or ill) for me having that capacity. You see, my neurological pain causes me to have aphasia from time to time. When I double checked my definitions online, I saw that some uses of “aphasia” and “dysphasia” are synonyms, but, I choose “aphasia” specifically. The prefix a-, in aphasia, means “without,” and, I find myself unable to find the word or words that I need to use to express my thoughts. I sometimes can only find babytalkwords, like “me must hang up, can’t talk.” With friends, I can almost always find “I am Groot” as a handy way to say me no talky so good like everyone, right now (as Groot was introduced in “Guardians of the Galaxy”)
I can’t prove this with any rigor, but, because people who can talk don’t expect to find words eluding them. When I have my aphasia in mild form, I start to babble, trying to rope in my thoughts, using the wrong words. Instead of fumbling physically, because I have to use my left hand for something (I’m right-handed), I’m babbling, because I keep realizing I haven’t finished my thought, so I’m fumbling to finish it.
If a person is able to act without “talking thought,” they can do pretty amazing things. For example, if you’re a good driver, who always maintains situational awareness, you can avoid collisions in ways that seem magical, all without thinking in words (other than the necessary “holy crap,” etc.). You don’t think to check your mirrors; your eyes kinda flicker once in a while, to look for sudden motion in your mirrors, and those flicks happen as often as they need to, given prevailing traffic. If you’re like me, you might notice you feel angry, and then check your blindspot, and sure enough, someone is riding in it, so you change speed to get ride of the idiot… I’d noticed them move in, and hadn’t noticed them move back out, and that ticked me off, all without ever thinking “damned idiot in my blindspot.”
If you can love, without talking thought, without fear, without thinking about “but what if this seems like a bad idea, tomorrow, to have been this loving right now?” if you can do all that, you can love like me, and, I think, in a manner similar to the love Radio showed that caused other people to feel so loved by him. Do my aphasia, and cognition-destroying neurological pain, help me remember that simple, delighted, “OMG it’s my best friend who I never met before!” love-in-the-moment? But those very issues, my inability to talk, and my cognitive failures, are what make it so dangerous for me to live, and love.
So, you see, you all float like a feather, in a beautiful world. You’re so fucking special; I wish I was special. But I’m a creep; I’m a weirdo; what the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here, and people will hurt me. And the aphasia, and other cognitive failures, they’re a huge, huge, part of why I’m a creep. I really am neurodivergent, and, as with folks on the autism spectrum, it wouldn’t be so jarring, and so troublesome, if everyone was like me. But I’m not sure who is like me, much less who knows it. I’m the best proven troubleshooter I know, and I’ve met some good ones, and it’s taken me decades to piece this together, so I’m sure there are plenty of people like me who have no effing idea what’s killing them. Until I can start figuring out how to live in a world that’s crazy for me, while giving people the tools they need to help me with the crazy, I’ll always be a creep.
Communique to the Internets
Oct. 25th, 2025 12:21 pmrolanniSaturday. Cool and cloudy.
Before we get to the recap, someone -- Alma? -- had asked how you remove the stabilizer without damaging the embroidery. I had previously used stabilizer, which was impossible to wash out, but! Improvements have been made. The instructions for the stablizier on which the pattern for my embroidered shirt were printed said, "Rinse under a stream of warm water." So, I took it into the bathroom, turned on the shower and stuck the shirt under the warm water. Somewhat to my surprise, because, I, too had expected A Fight, the stuff just melted away. It took -- what? A minute. Then I hung the shirt up and let it drip.
Mind you, it was stupidly difficult to embroider through the stabilizer, which is too bad because apparently the kit-making people have latched onto this as The Answer, and are now sending a bit of linen, a pattern printed on stabilizer, thread, etc. So, the two kits that remain on-hand (both black-cat-themed, what was I thinking?) are both "affix the pattern to the cloth."
# # #
Feel free to skip from here to the next # # # if you'd rather not hear an elderly lady complain about her old war wounds.
You have been warned.
Yesterday was No Fun At All. I owe Patty Briggs for the timely arrival on my tablet of the chronicle of Asil's yuletide adventures, which made the day somewhat less bad, but even a beautiful, doomed, ironic man can only do So Much. One does wonder what looms -- well, but that would be a spoiler, and we already know what looms.
My back hurt sufficiently that I took the drugs, even though I knew that was probably a Bad Idea, as indeed it was. The drugs make me sick. I know this, but they do also, sometimes, work against the pain. Sadly, yesterday was not one of those days. Tali gave it her All, but even so . . .
At 9:30, I just fell into bed, exhausted, and slept for three solid hours, then off and on in hour-sized chunks. Firefly was on night-watch, and she, too did her All, including smacking Rook off the bed, when he decided that I would feel better if I played. (She did allow him to remain later, when he snuck up and curled against my knee.)
I finally got up sometime after 10:30, took a shower, made myself a mug of peppermint tea and sat down at my desk to write this communique to the internets.
Since the drugs were such a disappointment, I have decided to quit the course. Yes, my back still hurts. A lot. But if this is going to be my life, I guess I'm going to have to learn how to ignore the pain and do what needs to be done though it. You wouldn't think this would be hard, since I'm pretty good at ignoring various other sorts of pain, but the back pain is my nemesis. So! a project.
Just what I needed.
# # #
My Plan for the day is to find something non-threatening to eat after I've finished my nice mug o'peppermint, then go back to Steve's office and get some writing done.
I have in my in-box two letters from the law firm representing writers in the Antropic settlement, replying to mine of several weeks ago. It looks like I'll need to get Madame the Agent involved on account of Steve being dead like he is. I'll look at those again when I'm feeling a little more the Thing.
So, that's caught us all up. The cats, I believe, are in Steve's office, and I -- am going to make another cup of peppermint tea and a piece of toast, and go join them.
And how're y'all doing today?
Database maintenance
Oct. 25th, 2025 08:42 am![[staff profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user_staff.png){kind=small}
mark posting in ![[site community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/comm_staff.png){kind=small}
dw_maintenanceGood morning, afternoon, and evening!
We're doing some database and other light server maintenance this weekend (upgrading the version of MySQL we use in particular, but also probably doing some CDN work.)
I expect all of this to be pretty invisible except for some small "couple of minute" blips as we switch between machines, but there's a chance you will notice something untoward. I'll keep an eye on comments as per usual.
Ta for now!
Books read in 2025
Oct. 25th, 2025 11:10 amrolanni52 Blind Date with a Werewolf, Patricia Briggs (e)
51 The Women, Kristin Hannah (e)
50 Emilie and the Hollow World, (Emilie Adventures #1) Martha Wells (e)
49 Black Tie & Tails (Black Wolves of Boston #2), Wen Spencer (e)
48 Shards of Earth, Adrian Tchaikovsky(The Final Architecture #1)e)
47 Hemlock and Silver, T. Kingfisher (e)
46 Outcrossing, Celia Lake (Mysterious Charm #1) (e)
45 Outfoxing Fate, Zoe Chant/Murphy Lawless (Virtue Shifters)(e)
44 Atonement Sky, Nalini Singh (Psy-Changeling Trinity #9) (e)
43 Stone and Sky, Ben Aaronovitch (Rivers of London #10) (e)
42 Regency Buck, Georgette Heyer (re-re-re-&c-read)
41 I Dare, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller (Liaden Universe #7) (page proofs)
40 To Hive and to Hold, Amy Crook (The Future of Magic #1) (e)
39 These Old Shades, Georgette Heyer, narrated by Sarah Nichols (re-re-re-&c-read, 1st time audio)
38 Faking it (Dempsey Family #2), Jennifer Crusie, narrated by Aasne Vigesaa (re-re-re-&c-read, 1st time audio)
37 Copper Script, K.J. Charles (e)
36 The Masqueraders, Georgette Heyer, narrated by Eleanor Yates (re-re-re-&c-read; 1st time audio)
35 Everyone Here Spoke Sign Language: Hereditary Deafness on Martha's Vineyard, Nora Ellen Groce (e)
34 Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, Winifred Watson, narrated by Frances McDormand (re-re-re-&c-read; 1st time audio)
33 The Wings upon Her Back, Samantha Mills (e)
32 Death on the Green (Dublin Driver #2), Catie Murphy (e)
31 The Elusive Earl (Bad Heir Days #3), Grace Burrowes (e)
30 The Mysterious Marquess (Bad Heir Days #2), Grace Burrowes (e)
29 Who Will Remember (Sebastian St. Cyr #20), C.S. Harris (e)
28 The Teller of Small Fortunes, Julie Leong (e)
27 Check and Mate, Ali Hazelwood (e)
26 The Dangerous Duke (Bad Heir Days #1), Grace Burrowes (e)
25 Night's Master (Flat Earth #1) (re-read), Tanith Lee (e)
24 The Honey Pot Plot (Rocky Start #3), Jennifer Crusie and Bob Mayer (e)
23 Very Nice Funerals (Rocky Start #2), Jennifer Crusie and Bob Mayer (e)
22 The Orb of Cairado, Katherine Addison (e)
21 The Tomb of Dragons, (The Cemeteries of Amalo Trilogy, Book 3), Katherine Addison (e)
20 A Gentleman of Sinister Schemes (Lord Julian #8), Grace Burrowes (e)
19 The Thirteen Clocks (re-re-re-&c read), James Thurber (e)
18 A Gentleman Under the Mistletoe (Lord Julian #7), Grace Burrowes (e)
17 All Conditions Red (Murderbot Diaries #1) (re-re-re-&c read) (audio 1st time)
16 Destiny's Way (Doomed Earth #2), Jack Campbell (e)
15 The Sign of the Dragon, Mary Soon Lee
14 A Gentleman of Unreliable Honor (Lord Julian #6), Grace Burrowes (e)
13 Market Forces in Gretna Green (#7 Midlife Recorder), Linzi Day (e)
12 Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent, Judi Dench with Brendan O'Hea (e)
11 Code Yellow in Gretna Green (#6 Midlife Recorder), Linzi Day (e)
10 Seeing Red in Gretna Green (#5 Midlife Recorder), Linzi Day (e)
9 House Party in Gretna Green (#4 Midlife Recorder), Linzi Day (e)*
8 Ties that Bond in Gretna Green (#3 Midlife Recorder), Linzi Day (e)
7 Painting the Blues in Gretna Green (#2 Midlife Recorder), Linzi Day (e)
6 Midlife in Gretna Green (#1 Midlife Recorder), Linzi Day (e)
5 The Goblin Emperor, Katherine Addison (Author), Kyle McCarley (Narrator) re-re-re&c-read (audio)
4 The House in the Cerulean Sea, TJ Klune (e)
3 A Gentleman in Search of a Wife (Lord Julian #5) Grace Burrowes (e)
2 A Gentleman in Pursuit of the Truth (Lord Julian #4) Grace Burrowes (e)
1 A Gentleman in Challenging Circumstances (Lord Julian #3) Grace Burrowes (e)
_____
*Note: The list has been corrected. I did not realize that the Gretna Green novella was part of the main path, rather than a pleasant discursion, and my numbering was off. All fixed now.
Attempted essay: fascism definition
Oct. 25th, 2025 05:32 amjohnpalmerSo, what is “fascism?” If you search the web for a definition, you’ll see some difficult terms, and it might be hard to understand what, precisely, fascism is. Me, I can’t put that together, but, as a troubleshooter with an engineer’s impetus for understanding, I’ve tried to force myself into a defintion that seems to tick the right boxes. The one that I don’t try to tick is external affairs. Is Trump more fascist, or just the same, for saying “Canada only makes sense as a state?” I don’t know. Let’s ignore that, okay? Fascism often involves aggression – but we don’t really care about that, from the inside, where we ask “is our society fascist? If not, how far, or near, is it?”
The first essential component to fascism is nationalism; fascists believe that the true blooded people of their nation are special; they may have “mudblood” rules (ref: Harry Potter). Typically, nationalists will believe that their military is more valuable than other people – better to bomb a bunch of civilians, than risk one of the nationalist’s own! You can expect fascists to be horrible in warfare, due to this twisted belief system. Nationalists believe they are deserving of other special things, too, but what that is, will likely be determined by the economy. They certainly feel deserving of adulation, as part of a favored class, among citizens of lesser nations!
In a fascist society, you’ll see stratification. What’s that? Well… in the Old South, a man knew his place (or he’d better be able to survive a duel!), and every white was better than any Black person. That’s extreme stratification; in Nazi Germany, Nazi officials were above the law, and the little people could be crushed by it… sometimes literally, if you were Jewish, Romani, gay, etc..
Religion will often be used by fascists, often with a demand for a return to traditional values. In many cases, religion will enforce societal stratification; in the Old South, it was considered Inerrantly, Biblically, Truth, that Black people were put on this earth to serve white people, and this is one of the reasons it’s been so hard to stomp out racism in America. (Yes, I know, lying soi disant “conservatives” will now say I hate America, but they lie about everything, so why do I care?)
Note that fascists tend to consider religious believers to be suckers, even though a few true believers might rise up in the ranks. It’s just, if you speak about religion a lot, it fools people into thinking religion is important to you. Since people tend to trust the religious, et viola, as I might say, trying to say et voila.
Fascism includes militarism, because of course the biggest, best, fasci-est nation in the world needs a super-poweful military, and, this urging to return to traditional values means they also need police mean and nasty enough to “get the job done,” by breaking skulls, usually of undesirables, e.g., Black people, hippies, migrants, or any other disfavored group. Remember, stratification is part of the system, so there’s always disfavored groups. So, during the civil rights battles, some people were pretty fasci in America, right? They wanted cops to hurt people marching for civil rights – and I’m not kidding, there were people who actively wanted injuries, against peaceful marchers, hence, “fasci.” ObBeetleJuice, “Th-these are not my rules, see… in fact, I don’t have any rules.” I don’t make the rules, but you want the cops to crack skulls, you’re fasci. You want them to make arrests? That’s fine, if there’s a need to make an arrest, to protect peace (but not necessarily quiet).
All of this is some pretty nasty crap, but it’s not yet fascist. First, fascism is a capitalist ideology. Now, someone in the back is saying “but the Nazis used the word ‘socialist’ in their name!” Listen, just cause the cat had kittens in the oven doesn’t make them biscuits, even if you name ‘em after biscuits. Nazis were capitalistic. As a capitalist ideology, fascism sees regulations as flexible; it might be bad for undesirables if the government allows pig farmers to build massive pig farms upwind of said undesirables, but, to a fascist, people who are weak enough that they can’t prevent massive pig farms probably deserve to have massive pig farms built near them, even if some health regulations need to be “relaxed.” A “light regulatory touch” means they can ‘accidentally’ spray you with pig shit every so often, but they can’t laugh while doing so, because, if they laugh, no one believes it was still an accident, you see.
Fascism has regimentation in the economy, where you have to run your business the right way, or suffer. Journalism is a special target; to a fascist, if no one is reporting on cracked skulls, no one cares, so, shut down the reporting. But there can be other targets, and a recent example in the news is useful. (Keep in mind discrete examples don’t make a society fascist.)
Budweiser gave some beer to a conservative influencer, who is trans. Without question, there are some fascists in the US, and, the fasci-hated include transfolk. So there were boycotts announced of Budweiser, for hoping an influencer would do a podcast saying “...and it’s even better sipping on a cold Budeweider!” Sales dropped – but I think most of the drop was that it was all in the news, and it was easier to just grab a different brand of beer, rather than worry about what someone might say to you over your beer choice! A quick note: this idea, that one might not express certain opinions, for fear of being accosted, is called a “heckler’s veto” and it’s considered one of the free speech issues that needs to be considered. You don’t want hecklers to have a veto, and, in a society that’s far from fascism, they won’t.
For me, since I’m corny, I’d say that fascism is what happens when love is squeezed out of society. Cops have to be mean; so does our military; because everyone else is against us, and only we are the good people. “We,” being the favored class, of course. The meanness takes over religion, so it no longer teaches compassion, but mute acceptance of horror. There’s always enough people in the Favored Class to apply beatdown to the “lessers,” so, from the viewpoint of the Favored, there’s no problem. They think they’re winning the battle, when they’re hollowing out the heart and soul of the nation.
Sunny Friday with embroidery and glasswork
Oct. 24th, 2025 12:19 pmrolanniWhat went before: Finished embroidering my shirt:
Friday. Sunny and coolish.
Slept late because went to bed ditto. Woke up with a backache, because of course I did.
So my glassworking teacher came out and said last night that I had chosen a very difficult design, but that was good, because I could be an Example for the rest of the class. Which I guess is a thing you never outgrow.
Those who have been following along will perhaps recall that I broke the starfish twice while I was cutting it, the second time much less catastrophically than the first. I took what remained of that sheet of glass to class to see if I could be taught better.
The teacher took the glass and the pattern and broke the starfish three times during scoring, all worse than my second attempt, so! keeping my second attempt in the design.
I also learned last night that something that I had subconsciously been depending on -- that any errors in scoring could be adjusted in the grinding stage -- was ... optimism. Apparently, grinding is only for roughing up the edges so the foil will stick, and not a fix for shoddy cutting.
Homework is attaching the foil to all the pieces, which I've already forgotten how that's supposed to go, but that is, after all, why Google gave us Youtube.
I finished reading The Women last night, and am cleansing my palate with Blind Date with a Werewolf before going on to Remarkably Bright Creatures.
I have taken naproxen and baclofen, which is somewhat nerve-wracking, since the last time I had back pain severe enough to hit the drugs I wound up in the ER (because the drugs didn't work on the pain though they made me plenty sick, and the shot of steroids administered by the clinic kicked my blood pressure into the stratosphere, so not doing that again). So far, neither drugs, nor ice, nor heat seem to be helping, so my next act will be to clean the cat boxes while I can still bend over, and then try to figure out what I can do to keep the pain in the region of "uncomfortable," the goal being to not wind up, weeping, in the Command Chair.
Standing up and sorta leaning into my desk isn't actually uncomfortable, so I may work on the Sekrit Project, if I can't think of anything to do that will actually mitigate the pain. Clearly, wrapping a zillion small pieces of glass in foil is not an option.
Tali has been sitting on me when I sit or lie down, and purring, while Rook takes up a station in the same room. Firefly is off-duty and sleeping in the sunshine in my office.
So! How's Friday treating you?
In which the lost are found
Oct. 23rd, 2025 01:27 pmrolanniYesterday, I baked bread, did embroidery, carried books down to the basement and got them safely stowed, finished Phase One of the Sekrit Project, which leaves two Phases left to complete by November 14, which is totally doable.
I also found Steve's cardinal, which was hiding behind books on the bottom-most shelf of the bookcase from which it fled.
And a bonus find...
About a million years ago, I bought Steve a sundial for his birthday. Approximately two hundred years ago, the gnomon went missing. The sundial then became a piece of glass art that sat on a bookshelt in Steve's office.
Today, as I was looking for the cardinal, I found the gnomon for the sundial. It had been stuck to a book.
So the sundial is back together, which is pleasing, even though it I probably have no place to set it up, since -- windows, cats.
Still, I'm pleased that it's at least potentially functional again.
#
Where are we? Thursday?
Thursday. Sunny, white-and-gray clouds traveling across a blue sky.
Breakfast was two slices of yesterday's bread, toasted, cottage cheese, and grapes. Yesterday, I ate three slices of bread with butter as soon as the loaf was cool enough to slice, two slices this morning, and I foresee another slice or two with lunch. I am not usually like this, but I'm gonna finish this loaf by Saturday. Guess I needed Vitamin Bread.
Wrote 1,459 new words this morning. Did the addition, to get some idea of where I am contract-wise, and found the total WIP at 102,870, which In Theory means I can type THE END.
Yeah, yeah. We laugh at Theory.
I did sleep in, and my desk one! more! time! looks like a bomb hit it. How does this keep happening? Gremlins, I guess.
Tonight is glassworking, which means a late lunch, because class goes so late. Happily, I can sleep in tomorrow.
That? Is all the news from this side of the world.
How's everything going for you?
Oh. I got the sundial set:
Thursday afternoon cat census:
