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pre-occupied these days
Nov. 5th, 2020 04:35 pm(gods smite me, but someone recently posted art for a J2 fic--their Jensen could be the Ghost General.)
I have had Ravel's Bolero in my head for the last few days, with flashes of ombre lavender to purple Torvill and Dean gliding past my mind's eye. 
We watched Moana (it's a thing. Lilo the evening before. Spirited Away is prob up next. Avoiding live action, avoiding new horror-vore-shock-grimdark tv. Sticking with comfort food movies. We may start Fraggle Rock rewatch next) night before last, and I keep getting "Shiny! Dah de do de do de do" because I never learnt the lyrics.
So in my head now it's "Dum da da da da, dum de dum da da da da--Shiny!--Dah! DAH DE DAH DAH De Dum Da De Da, Da de dum de dah de dum da de da, de da-de dum de dum dum de dum--SHINY!--De dum De Dum de dum da-de dum da da de dum de.... shiny!...
We watched Moana (it's a thing. Lilo the evening before. Spirited Away is prob up next. Avoiding live action, avoiding new horror-vore-shock-grimdark tv. Sticking with comfort food movies. We may start Fraggle Rock rewatch next) night before last, and I keep getting "Shiny! Dah de do de do de do" because I never learnt the lyrics.
So in my head now it's "Dum da da da da, dum de dum da da da da--Shiny!--Dah! DAH DE DAH DAH De Dum Da De Da, Da de dum de dah de dum da de da, de da-de dum de dum dum de dum--SHINY!--De dum De Dum de dum da-de dum da da de dum de.... shiny!...
Happy Merry!
Dec. 22nd, 2019 10:36 am<a href=https://vimeo.com/33612599>Fred and Ginger</a> , Hem and I send you the most joyous wishes of the season.
"Identical Snowflakes" by Hem, vid by Icepixie
random preoccupations...
Jul. 10th, 2019 02:05 pmA long story for another time, but someone gave me a tiara, or two, several years ago. Just rhinestones, but pretty and glittery. Wearing one made me feel silly and special for an hour or two. It was fun. I started browsing tiaras at ebay now and again, just to see new designs and enjoy the pretty. Over the years, I’ve collected…some more tiaras, paying no more than $10 to $20 for any of them. I kept them wrapped carefully in tissue and nested in boxes. Once in a while I’d dig one out and wear it for a couple of hours while editing, reading, folding laundry, or watching tv.
I’ve had this random black plastic CD rack, relic from the before times when music came on CDs. The rack had three squarish sections with slots for a dozen jewel cases in each section. I’ve used the rack in altar displays once in a while, for tiny examples of changing seasons, or at the holidays for mini-displays. Mostly it just languished, empty and unused. I’d always toyed with the idea of maybe displaying some–or all–of my tiaras, somehow, but didn’t have a lot of drive to implement the idea. And then one day, cleaning off the bottom bookshelf, I stood the empty CD rack on end.
DH helped out by cutting and glueing black foamcore “cleats” at the halfway point in each of the sections, and foamcore “shelves” to rest on the cleats. And voila! Seven tiaras on display! Also handy should I suddenly have a desire to wear one. But…there were still tiaras packed away in boxes. “I’ll build you more shelves out of thin plywood and paint ‘em black,” DH said, that project joining the looooong list of projects he has lined up. I resigned myself to wait, until I woke up one morning wondering, “Are the insides of those drawer boxes black?”
Reader, they are. The red drawers, containing my silver jewelry in plastic baggies (mostly so I don’t have to polish them often, also with earrings and coordinating pendants and things bagged together) are now stacked on top of each other on the shelf.
DH gave me a halogen desk lamp, which I put on a shelf just inside my office door, trained on the tiaras. I flip that switch when I walk through the door and the resultant blaze of glitter, color, and sparkle never fails to take my breath, just a little, every time. A tiny thing to lift my mood, even for a few minutes. There are copies of Actual Tiaras in there: fourth down, center, the Marlborough, AKA the Spencer Honeysuckle tiara. Below that, Princess Sophie (of Sweden, I think?)’s Palmette Wedding tiara, and below that, the York tiara, Sarah Ferguson’s wedding tiara. The gold one, top left, is one of QE2’s favorites, the Girls of Great Britain and Ireland tiara. The baroque gold and emerald one, center top, is a recent gift from a friend, and I call her Idina. I know I have at least two–and maybe as many as four–tiaras still in boxes in the closet. The green drawers may end up stacked on themselves soon, as the tiara towers grow in height.
I’ve had this random black plastic CD rack, relic from the before times when music came on CDs. The rack had three squarish sections with slots for a dozen jewel cases in each section. I’ve used the rack in altar displays once in a while, for tiny examples of changing seasons, or at the holidays for mini-displays. Mostly it just languished, empty and unused. I’d always toyed with the idea of maybe displaying some–or all–of my tiaras, somehow, but didn’t have a lot of drive to implement the idea. And then one day, cleaning off the bottom bookshelf, I stood the empty CD rack on end.
DH helped out by cutting and glueing black foamcore “cleats” at the halfway point in each of the sections, and foamcore “shelves” to rest on the cleats. And voila! Seven tiaras on display! Also handy should I suddenly have a desire to wear one. But…there were still tiaras packed away in boxes. “I’ll build you more shelves out of thin plywood and paint ‘em black,” DH said, that project joining the looooong list of projects he has lined up. I resigned myself to wait, until I woke up one morning wondering, “Are the insides of those drawer boxes black?”
Reader, they are. The red drawers, containing my silver jewelry in plastic baggies (mostly so I don’t have to polish them often, also with earrings and coordinating pendants and things bagged together) are now stacked on top of each other on the shelf.DH gave me a halogen desk lamp, which I put on a shelf just inside my office door, trained on the tiaras. I flip that switch when I walk through the door and the resultant blaze of glitter, color, and sparkle never fails to take my breath, just a little, every time. A tiny thing to lift my mood, even for a few minutes. There are copies of Actual Tiaras in there: fourth down, center, the Marlborough, AKA the Spencer Honeysuckle tiara. Below that, Princess Sophie (of Sweden, I think?)’s Palmette Wedding tiara, and below that, the York tiara, Sarah Ferguson’s wedding tiara. The gold one, top left, is one of QE2’s favorites, the Girls of Great Britain and Ireland tiara. The baroque gold and emerald one, center top, is a recent gift from a friend, and I call her Idina. I know I have at least two–and maybe as many as four–tiaras still in boxes in the closet. The green drawers may end up stacked on themselves soon, as the tiara towers grow in height.
Opinions? Comments? Sarcastic remarks?
May. 23rd, 2019 04:28 pmWe bought furniture today--sale prices, yadda. It's not the blue-turquoise-teal-blue I wanted, it's shaded tweedish grey with a soft hand, sturdy construction, high and firm enough to be comfy (I hate sinking butt-first into downy cushions and having to fight my way to my feet). All the good plusses, stain-resist, delivery, plus pickup and donation of our futon and loveseat, both of which have served valiantly, but well, it's time to part ways.
My question: I have my dad's club chair, built like a fricken tank, hard-rock maple frame, joined, no screws or bolts, hand-tied springs, weighs a ton and is indestructible. Somewhere in the 70s Dad decided grey-and-red awning stripe silk damask wasn't his thing (green moss fringe around the seams, green bullion fringe at the bottom, woo!) and had it recovered in cream faux-Naugahyde. Guys, I can't even make the "Do you know how many naugas had to die for that chair?" joke because--*faux*-Naugahyde. The chair will go on forever unless somebody hacks it apart with a battleaxe and lights it on fire.
It's a great chair (cat not included), straight lines, deep seat, perfect angle on the back. I've sat in it, and would still, but I need an ottoman and unless it's the perfect height it wrecks my knees. H hates the chair, the angle of the back's all wrong for him. However, even with the new stuff, we need a chair. So do I investigate how much gold pressed latinum it's going to cost me to have it reupholstered, or price a new chair?
Opinions, please?
ETA: That is not my house, that is not my rug. Picture was taken in my mom's house before we absconded with the chair.
SPN ending with Season 15
Mar. 22nd, 2019 06:26 pmI'm...oddly not upset. I've felt this coming, not because the show's not the same sort of format as the other CW shows, or the guys aren't the young hotties of the other shows, or there're no flashy costumes and superpowers.
I've heard the Js say again and again that the show is a cottage industry that keeps a whole community employed, that it's a family, that they have felt and do feel a responsibility for that family and that possibility of continuing employment. But I've also heard them both not-actually-complain, but express regret that their babies are growing up without them being there to see it. That their lives are passing while they're so deeply absorbed in work. I've seen the con videos and observed the microexpressions, and exchanged expressions when such subjects come up.
This isn't a surprise. In one of the articles already online the writer stated this is not a network decision, but a creative one, which is just this side of saying, the guys are finished with this, and want to stop. Maybe to rest awhile. Maybe to move on to something else. But they've done more than could ever have been expected of them, and for them, it's time to stop.
It's also so very gentlemanly and like them to give their fans a whole season's heads up, to give us a chance to pay attention to the farewell tour, to savor it as it winds down to the end.
For myself, I just hope Butch and Sundance are off the storyboard.
ETA: I'd just like to add that closed canon doesn't mean closed fandom. SPN has given us so much fodder for casefics, AUs, RPFs, continued exploration of themes and memes and fairytales. I don't for a second expect SPN fandom to fade just because there are no new episodes. Not every ep in fifteen seasons has been mined nearly bare for fic and art and vids. So, though I know some folks will move on to new shows, to other fandoms, I think we'll still be up and running in SPN for a long time.
I've heard the Js say again and again that the show is a cottage industry that keeps a whole community employed, that it's a family, that they have felt and do feel a responsibility for that family and that possibility of continuing employment. But I've also heard them both not-actually-complain, but express regret that their babies are growing up without them being there to see it. That their lives are passing while they're so deeply absorbed in work. I've seen the con videos and observed the microexpressions, and exchanged expressions when such subjects come up.
This isn't a surprise. In one of the articles already online the writer stated this is not a network decision, but a creative one, which is just this side of saying, the guys are finished with this, and want to stop. Maybe to rest awhile. Maybe to move on to something else. But they've done more than could ever have been expected of them, and for them, it's time to stop.
It's also so very gentlemanly and like them to give their fans a whole season's heads up, to give us a chance to pay attention to the farewell tour, to savor it as it winds down to the end.
For myself, I just hope Butch and Sundance are off the storyboard.
ETA: I'd just like to add that closed canon doesn't mean closed fandom. SPN has given us so much fodder for casefics, AUs, RPFs, continued exploration of themes and memes and fairytales. I don't for a second expect SPN fandom to fade just because there are no new episodes. Not every ep in fifteen seasons has been mined nearly bare for fic and art and vids. So, though I know some folks will move on to new shows, to other fandoms, I think we'll still be up and running in SPN for a long time.
Observations
Feb. 22nd, 2019 12:40 pmI woke this morning to wind rattling the windows and gusting through the cedars that overhang the house. And now it's snowing like fury out there--falling thick and fast and swirling in otherwise unseen eddies of wind.
And the ambulance just took our across-the-street neighbor to Hospice. The neighbor who took months of careful measurements and notes and evaluations to decide to buy the house. Who set about remodeling to her own specs and standards, who pulled down the back shed, grown in stages, like Topsy, cleared the debris and erected a solid, square and plumb foundation and a new shed on that spot. Who insulated and drywalled and polycoated the rafters and beams on the inside, and installed a treadmill and a stationary bike. Who recruited a student worker to help her clear the lot around the foundation of the house, lay gravel and paving stones--by hand. Who hired someone to build a porch, somewhere to sit outside and read in nice weather, that someone who wandered away, unpaid, abandoning his tools.
OH took a look at the dangerously shoddy job left undone and volunteered to build it, and spent the summer doing just that.
She had lived in PNW and Canada--standing just under 5' and retaining a slight lilt of Irish accent, she was of liberal opinion and speech. After doing all her dilligence on buying the house, she found herself nested between two staunch fundamentalist tea partiers, both hard of hearing, who in warmer months of open windows, blasted Rush Limbaugh and his ilk from waking to sleeping. She was not amused.
She had played on an Irish hurling team, and one of her fondest memories was traveling to a meet in NYC by subway and seeing the other passengers expressions as this team of Amazons of variegated size and shape boarded the train, sticks in hand. She has a shelf full of golf trophies, and she and her foursome would drive to Canada, play their 18 holes, have lunch, and return before the local course would have found space in their schedule for the ladies to play.
Having noted the frequent whimsical fencing made up of discarded single skis, she made her own garden fence of hockey and hurling sticks. Her latest project before she became ill was to build a ramp beside her back steps so her disabled friends could come visit, and to pave the dirt floor of her carport with concrete patio slabs bedded in pea gravel. Those tasks won't be finished, now.
She was driving her little red car less than a month ago. Whatever's taking her moved swiftly, and left little time for goodbyes. Little but fierce, and forever remembered.
And the ambulance just took our across-the-street neighbor to Hospice. The neighbor who took months of careful measurements and notes and evaluations to decide to buy the house. Who set about remodeling to her own specs and standards, who pulled down the back shed, grown in stages, like Topsy, cleared the debris and erected a solid, square and plumb foundation and a new shed on that spot. Who insulated and drywalled and polycoated the rafters and beams on the inside, and installed a treadmill and a stationary bike. Who recruited a student worker to help her clear the lot around the foundation of the house, lay gravel and paving stones--by hand. Who hired someone to build a porch, somewhere to sit outside and read in nice weather, that someone who wandered away, unpaid, abandoning his tools.
OH took a look at the dangerously shoddy job left undone and volunteered to build it, and spent the summer doing just that.
She had lived in PNW and Canada--standing just under 5' and retaining a slight lilt of Irish accent, she was of liberal opinion and speech. After doing all her dilligence on buying the house, she found herself nested between two staunch fundamentalist tea partiers, both hard of hearing, who in warmer months of open windows, blasted Rush Limbaugh and his ilk from waking to sleeping. She was not amused.
She had played on an Irish hurling team, and one of her fondest memories was traveling to a meet in NYC by subway and seeing the other passengers expressions as this team of Amazons of variegated size and shape boarded the train, sticks in hand. She has a shelf full of golf trophies, and she and her foursome would drive to Canada, play their 18 holes, have lunch, and return before the local course would have found space in their schedule for the ladies to play.
Having noted the frequent whimsical fencing made up of discarded single skis, she made her own garden fence of hockey and hurling sticks. Her latest project before she became ill was to build a ramp beside her back steps so her disabled friends could come visit, and to pave the dirt floor of her carport with concrete patio slabs bedded in pea gravel. Those tasks won't be finished, now.
She was driving her little red car less than a month ago. Whatever's taking her moved swiftly, and left little time for goodbyes. Little but fierce, and forever remembered.
a comment in someone else's journal...
Aug. 17th, 2018 11:39 amprompted a think about faith and the outward trappings thereof. I was raised in a rigid fundamental Christian
church. My parents had grown up *around* the church, but didn't attend because they each were essentially raised by wolves. As adults they joined the church as a means of belonging, socially, and from fear of the afterlife.
I began to question their religion as a young teen, though my parents remained largely unaware, since my research was confined to extensive reading and talking with people *other* than my parents. I wanted to avoid hurting them by "rejecting" their faith--and also, I admit, wanting to avoid a shitstorm should they find out I was "questioning."
I researched Judaism, seriously considered converting for a few months. Studied Roman Catholicism, and went through some serious contemplation of becoming a cloistered nun. Sometimes regret not doing it. As an adult, there was a period of (stealth) wider Protestant Christian belief and practice *within* my parents' church. And thus to a lengthy study of Native American spirituality, discovering the varying beliefs and practices of many Nations, before acknowledging that as much as I was drawn to some of many, I could not embrace *one* belief system and, retaining much gained perspective, let go of cherry-picked appropriation. And moved on into Celtic paganism, Druidism, a brief but concentrated exploration of Hinduism, Shinto, and Buddhism.
Buddhism makes sense to me. I simply don't have the determination to commit to practice. I believe and practice many tenets of Buddhist faith, but acknowledge I am not, and cannot be, right now in my life, a Buddhist. I do have figures of the Buddha in my home and garden, as focal points for contemplation, and where my gaze falls, to rest, and find footing in my struggle to overcome chaos and rancor and despair. If that's appropriation, then I'm guilty. But I would never consider those figures as "decoration," because they have purpose: they recall me to mindfulness, and are an anchor in my inner search for strength and kindness, and for peace.
church. My parents had grown up *around* the church, but didn't attend because they each were essentially raised by wolves. As adults they joined the church as a means of belonging, socially, and from fear of the afterlife. I began to question their religion as a young teen, though my parents remained largely unaware, since my research was confined to extensive reading and talking with people *other* than my parents. I wanted to avoid hurting them by "rejecting" their faith--and also, I admit, wanting to avoid a shitstorm should they find out I was "questioning."
I researched Judaism, seriously considered converting for a few months. Studied Roman Catholicism, and went through some serious contemplation of becoming a cloistered nun. Sometimes regret not doing it. As an adult, there was a period of (stealth) wider Protestant Christian belief and practice *within* my parents' church. And thus to a lengthy study of Native American spirituality, discovering the varying beliefs and practices of many Nations, before acknowledging that as much as I was drawn to some of many, I could not embrace *one* belief system and, retaining much gained perspective, let go of cherry-picked appropriation. And moved on into Celtic paganism, Druidism, a brief but concentrated exploration of Hinduism, Shinto, and Buddhism.
Buddhism makes sense to me. I simply don't have the determination to commit to practice. I believe and practice many tenets of Buddhist faith, but acknowledge I am not, and cannot be, right now in my life, a Buddhist. I do have figures of the Buddha in my home and garden, as focal points for contemplation, and where my gaze falls, to rest, and find footing in my struggle to overcome chaos and rancor and despair. If that's appropriation, then I'm guilty. But I would never consider those figures as "decoration," because they have purpose: they recall me to mindfulness, and are an anchor in my inner search for strength and kindness, and for peace.
Friday five
Jul. 13th, 2018 12:43 am1) If you could be either a fish or a bird, which would you be, and why?
I've always loved the water, but in recent years I've developed claustrophobia and now I don't love being underwater so much. And really, short answer: fish don't sing.
2) Would you rather it be 10 degrees too hot or 10 degrees too cold? (Does your answer change if that’s indoors or outdoors?)
The body aches and stiffness are much worse in heat. Why we moved from NC to PNW.
3) What is the best thing that happened to you today?
I dropped my (expensive to replace) clip-on magnetic sunglasses at the grocery store. When I realized it I zipped back to the checkout line I'd just gone through--I'd felt them in my pocket before pulling into line there. "I dropped my sunglasses," I told the cashier. "You sure did!" she chirped. "Someone found them before they got run over, so they're fine."
4) Is youth wasted on the young? (Follow-up: are you old or young?)
Old enough not to be considered young anymore. I think probably the health and energy of youth is wasted on people inexperienced enough to squander it.
5) Pasta salad or potato salad?
I'm theoretically not supposed to have either. My *preferrence is always potato salad--I make two killer recipes of potato salad, even though I can't eat it. But using rice or quinoa noodles I can have pasta salad.
I've always loved the water, but in recent years I've developed claustrophobia and now I don't love being underwater so much. And really, short answer: fish don't sing.
2) Would you rather it be 10 degrees too hot or 10 degrees too cold? (Does your answer change if that’s indoors or outdoors?)
The body aches and stiffness are much worse in heat. Why we moved from NC to PNW.
3) What is the best thing that happened to you today?
I dropped my (expensive to replace) clip-on magnetic sunglasses at the grocery store. When I realized it I zipped back to the checkout line I'd just gone through--I'd felt them in my pocket before pulling into line there. "I dropped my sunglasses," I told the cashier. "You sure did!" she chirped. "Someone found them before they got run over, so they're fine."
4) Is youth wasted on the young? (Follow-up: are you old or young?)
Old enough not to be considered young anymore. I think probably the health and energy of youth is wasted on people inexperienced enough to squander it.
5) Pasta salad or potato salad?
I'm theoretically not supposed to have either. My *preferrence is always potato salad--I make two killer recipes of potato salad, even though I can't eat it. But using rice or quinoa noodles I can have pasta salad.
Tee Vee, my old friend
May. 19th, 2018 10:56 amFor one reason and another, for a long, sad, extension of reasons, I've been down lately. Reading fic has helped, watching frivolous tv has helped a lot--British gardening shows on Netflix, how I love thee! And British house rehab shows, as well. But I seem to have come to the end of those offerings, and rewatching a third or fourth time, well, they lose their luster.
Not remotely ready for sleep, though bedtime blew by some hours agolast night in the wee smalls, and while surfing titles on Netflix, I passed the new Queer Eye twice, before stopping. Oh well, I've only seen the episodes once, why not?
Gentlefolk. My peeps, my frens, my dudes, these guys put a smile on my face, made me cry with happiness for their makeover person, and then smile and chuckle through the tears. So kind, so perceptive, so adaptive, so clever... I think my faith in humanity may be somewhat restored.
Not remotely ready for sleep, though bedtime blew by some hours ago
Gentlefolk. My peeps, my frens, my dudes, these guys put a smile on my face, made me cry with happiness for their makeover person, and then smile and chuckle through the tears. So kind, so perceptive, so adaptive, so clever... I think my faith in humanity may be somewhat restored.
Joys of the season
Dec. 25th, 2017 05:29 pm
Daniel and Dougal snuggle beside the tree
clockwise from top left: Milo, Froederich, Virgil Henry, Arlo the pig, Thaddeus, and Truman in the Santa hat wish all of you merry.
Peaches and Pete cuddle in the cradle underneath the tree.
All of us hope your day is happy, whether or whatever you celebrate!
Wishes for the Merriest of seasons
Dec. 25th, 2017 10:07 amI've done this before, it's a tradition by now.
<a href=https://vimeo.com/33612599>Fred and Ginger</a> offer my very best wishes of the season to all of you!
<a href=https://vimeo.com/33612599>Fred and Ginger</a> offer my very best wishes of the season to all of you!
I shouldn't tell you people about cinnamon grahams spread with Nutella and Dickinson's coconut curd, huh? Actually, someone gave me a jar of Nutella, and this is the only way I can eat it. I fail to see the attraction, otherwise.
...I should buy stock in Dickinsons.
...I should buy stock in Dickinsons.
(no subject)
Sep. 8th, 2017 09:53 amThis is my town yesterday, with smoke from the wildfires
This morning I woke up to the sound of thunder--and rain! My weather map shows the rain isn't reaching to Seattle or Portland--I'd love to share, they need it as much as we do. But I have to rejoice in having rain at all.
This morning I woke up to the sound of thunder--and rain! My weather map shows the rain isn't reaching to Seattle or Portland--I'd love to share, they need it as much as we do. But I have to rejoice in having rain at all.
news of the day
Sep. 6th, 2017 04:55 pmFrom my FB feed: Well, it’s good to know that the middle of the country, the folks who don’t “believe in” climate change, are safe at least.
After a couple of *weeks* of smoky air and haze, today I'm getting my first whiff of actual burning stuff, and ewwww. Poor people who've been in it all this time.
It's supposed to rain tomorrow or the next day, and wash a lot of particulates out of the air. That'll be nice. And drop the high temps ten degrees F or more. That'll be even nicer. If we hadn't moved, if I'd been stuck in NC all this time, I'm sure I'd be dead by now. If not from the climate, then from politics. Oddly, there's lots of NC history and landscape I do miss--most of which is either altered or gone, in rational perspective. Can't forget the view from Mt. Mitchell, though. Or starlings in an autumn dusk from a third-story classroom window at Salem.
Important to remember these things are brighter, softer, happier, in the light of nostalgia than they would be in the harsh light of present reality.
Come onnnn, rain!
It's supposed to rain tomorrow or the next day, and wash a lot of particulates out of the air. That'll be nice. And drop the high temps ten degrees F or more. That'll be even nicer. If we hadn't moved, if I'd been stuck in NC all this time, I'm sure I'd be dead by now. If not from the climate, then from politics. Oddly, there's lots of NC history and landscape I do miss--most of which is either altered or gone, in rational perspective. Can't forget the view from Mt. Mitchell, though. Or starlings in an autumn dusk from a third-story classroom window at Salem.
Important to remember these things are brighter, softer, happier, in the light of nostalgia than they would be in the harsh light of present reality.
Come onnnn, rain!
greetings!
Apr. 16th, 2017 05:34 pm
Hazel and Backup want to wish those of you who observe it a Happy Easter, and the rest of you a lovely spring long weekend!
