Pouty McPout Pout
Monday, May 30th, 2011 10:43 amThe Husbandly One had to go in to work today.
Dammit, I was looking forward to grilled burgers!!
DO NOT LIKE!!!
Dammit, I was looking forward to grilled burgers!!
DO NOT LIKE!!!
"If you're wondering if I want you to, I want you to..."
Tuesday, November 30th, 2010 10:35 am*hugs internets very hard*
Oh, how I missed you yesterday!!! The city was doing some work on a road they're... pretty much constantly working on (see "Great Unfinished Works"), and they cut AT&T's lines and pretty much lost the internet for the whole damn town. That's the third time they've done that this month, the idiots.
*grumbles*
Hmmmm... Thanksgiving. Well, the food was good this time. This, of course, was because Mom pretty much did the cooking herself, with assistance from the Flaky Sister. Mom was sort of worn out and after some discreet questioning, I found it was because Mom would hop up and run to defend the food every time she saw the Flaky Sister with a salt shaker or a stick of butter in her hand. That's not easy when you're 83 and arthritic, but Mom's pretty spry and energetic when she has good cause!
It went well, and I had a lot of fun getting to know Second Oldest Niece's brand new husband (ooooo, shiny!!) and have come to the conclusion that when the Husbandly One gets over his stand-offish, how-dare-you-marry-my-niece thing, he and New Hubby will get along famously and be as thick as thieves. I foresee many epic pranks in the making!
Hmmm, I think from here on out, I shall call Second Oldest Niece "Coach Niece" (because she's a high school softball coach) and her husband shall be henceforth called... "Mr. Coach." Because... he's married to her, and... he's a coach. Yeah, yeah, I know, how original, but hey, it works!
ANYHOW, Thanksgiving went well, without the usual family drama that seems to be the norm, thanks to Oldest Niece whom we sometimes term Scary Niece for good reason. Well, during the main event, that is. She saved the drama for after mostly everyone had gone except for THO and I, and Coach Niece and her husband. I won't go into it except to say that fortunately, she is still scared of me and needs my good opinion (which she lost a long time ago, but we don't need to tell her that, do we?), so it only took my voicing my disapproval to put a stop to things.
After she and her family hadfled from Auntie's fury gone home, THO and I had settled in to get ready for bed, since we were spending the night. However, being weather obsessed, I made the mistake of checking the weather report for home on my Blackberry, and ended up on Mom's computer, accessing the local Weatherbug and then checking the local weather report.
When we'd left for Mom's, Austin's weather forecast was for a low of 45 (7.2 C), so the Husbandly One hadn't bothered putting on the heater (the high for the day was in the eighties) since we'd be back the next day.
However...
The updated forecast predicted a low of 32 to 25 (0 to -3 C ), which meant we needed to worry about the cats and the water pipes. The cats, because even though they're indoors, the house does get cold when the heater isn't on, and the pipes, because our house is up off the ground on a pier and beam foundation. Pier and beam foundations are common in the South, because it's hot here eight to nine months of the year, and allowing air to circulate under the floor keeps the house cooler. However, this means during the winter, the floors can be freezing cold if not properly insulated, and if your pipes aren't protected/insulated, they'll freeze and burst. Most of the time, this isn't a problem if your heater is on!
What did this mean?
It meant we had to pack up everything and ... go back home. After 10 p.m.
*head-desk*
You'd think after living out here for 14 years, we'd have learned not to trust the weatherman, right? I mean, when we lived in the 21 House, we pretty much accepted that during the winter, it would be 10 degrees colder than whatever the predicted low was, and during the summer, it would be 5 to 10 degrees hotter. If they said mild to moderate thunderstorms, we'd get a tornado. I mean, you'd think I'd remember that, right? HA!
*makes a rude noise*
The Impossible Son was not happy with us at all, and almost inconsolable at having to leave. He was sooo looking forward to spending the night, and getting up to make breakfast for Grandma (we have decided, as a family, that the Flaky Sister is not allowed even remotely near the kitchen when we are visiting), and being able to talk to her and... *sigh* The Impertinent Daughter wasn't happy either, but she understood and made an effort not to make things harder for Grandma (or me), and we loaded ourselves in the minivan and headed home.
You know, a long drive becomes even longer when it's late at night and... you have no caffeine. I felt obligated to stay awake to help the Husbandly One stay awake (since he was driving) and as moral support. Don't know how supportive I was, because I kept nodding off and waking up abruptly when we'd hit a bump, or I'd dream there was an elephant in the road ahead that we were about to hit, or have tea with, or something like that. I wasn't very talkative but then, my dad had years of conditioning my sisters and me not to talk in the car, so... it's not unusual that I was quiet.
The kids made up for my lack for about the first hour, but soon, the road hypnotized them into a sleepy daze, and it seemed only THO had the iron will to stay awake, thank goodness!
What was odd to us was driving into town finally around 12:45 or so, and the THO rousing us from our stupor with, "Wow, would you look at that!"
So we did. It was the local WalMart, which isn't unusual in itself, but... the parking lot was packed all the way to the highway. I mean, every single parking space was taken, and it had overflowed into the parking lot next door. That store must have been positively crammed to bursting with people! In all the years that I have lived here, I have never seen the local WalMart parking lot that full. Ever.
It was all for Black Friday, which it technically was since it was after midnight.
But... WalMart??? Seriously??
Anyhow, we made it home, crashed face-first into our beds, and slept the sleep of the just. Or at least, the just-got-homes.
Oh, and by the way, we resigned from the soccer board. Finally. Yeah, it was a long time coming, but when one of our board members told me to make sure to get a USB drive and download all the meeting minutes into it, the Husbandly One realized that there was going to be a move to either get me removed as secretary, or him as president, because we're viewed by this one particular person as a "voting block," never mind that I don't always vote with THO because I don't always agree with him. Funny thing is, I never wanted to be secretary, and would have gladly given it up to whoever else wanted it but... there was nobody else to take it. Seems this person also wasn't too thrilled about me being secretary because I'm "too outspoken," and never had a problem shutting him down, or telling him he was wrong and how precisely he was wrong, or keeping him from veering board discussions too far off track.
Apparently, I'm not supposed to do that.
And one of the other board members attempted to start a flame war of emails, which THO doused very quickly, but that was it for him. He said, "How sad is it to get an email from a board member who berates everyone for being unprofessional, and then turns around and calls us all losers? How unprofessional is that?? You know what? I'm done with that." And that was that.
So, he sent out an email to the board saying we were resigning, effective immediately, which gets us out of having to go to the last board meeting of the year, and means we don't have to be there for board elections or any of that bally-hoo. Which makes me very happy, because this means I don't have to sit there and practically bludgeon everyone into agreeing on set dates for spring registration, and times, and settle Miss Eileen down when she starts getting all wound up because this is soooo different from how it was done before, and fussing about kids using the same jerseys from last season and will the numbers not be duplicated, and what about the sponsor names, and...
... I don't have to do that anymore? OH... wow, I feel so... light!!
Yes, I'm enjoying this far too much!
Okay, I've rambled on long enough. Time for me to go wash some dishes, yo!
Oh, how I missed you yesterday!!! The city was doing some work on a road they're... pretty much constantly working on (see "Great Unfinished Works"), and they cut AT&T's lines and pretty much lost the internet for the whole damn town. That's the third time they've done that this month, the idiots.
*grumbles*
Hmmmm... Thanksgiving. Well, the food was good this time. This, of course, was because Mom pretty much did the cooking herself, with assistance from the Flaky Sister. Mom was sort of worn out and after some discreet questioning, I found it was because Mom would hop up and run to defend the food every time she saw the Flaky Sister with a salt shaker or a stick of butter in her hand. That's not easy when you're 83 and arthritic, but Mom's pretty spry and energetic when she has good cause!
It went well, and I had a lot of fun getting to know Second Oldest Niece's brand new husband (ooooo, shiny!!) and have come to the conclusion that when the Husbandly One gets over his stand-offish, how-dare-you-marry-my-niece thing, he and New Hubby will get along famously and be as thick as thieves. I foresee many epic pranks in the making!
Hmmm, I think from here on out, I shall call Second Oldest Niece "Coach Niece" (because she's a high school softball coach) and her husband shall be henceforth called... "Mr. Coach." Because... he's married to her, and... he's a coach. Yeah, yeah, I know, how original, but hey, it works!
ANYHOW, Thanksgiving went well, without the usual family drama that seems to be the norm, thanks to Oldest Niece whom we sometimes term Scary Niece for good reason. Well, during the main event, that is. She saved the drama for after mostly everyone had gone except for THO and I, and Coach Niece and her husband. I won't go into it except to say that fortunately, she is still scared of me and needs my good opinion (which she lost a long time ago, but we don't need to tell her that, do we?), so it only took my voicing my disapproval to put a stop to things.
After she and her family had
When we'd left for Mom's, Austin's weather forecast was for a low of 45 (7.2 C), so the Husbandly One hadn't bothered putting on the heater (the high for the day was in the eighties) since we'd be back the next day.
However...
The updated forecast predicted a low of 32 to 25 (0 to -3 C ), which meant we needed to worry about the cats and the water pipes. The cats, because even though they're indoors, the house does get cold when the heater isn't on, and the pipes, because our house is up off the ground on a pier and beam foundation. Pier and beam foundations are common in the South, because it's hot here eight to nine months of the year, and allowing air to circulate under the floor keeps the house cooler. However, this means during the winter, the floors can be freezing cold if not properly insulated, and if your pipes aren't protected/insulated, they'll freeze and burst. Most of the time, this isn't a problem if your heater is on!
What did this mean?
It meant we had to pack up everything and ... go back home. After 10 p.m.
*head-desk*
You'd think after living out here for 14 years, we'd have learned not to trust the weatherman, right? I mean, when we lived in the 21 House, we pretty much accepted that during the winter, it would be 10 degrees colder than whatever the predicted low was, and during the summer, it would be 5 to 10 degrees hotter. If they said mild to moderate thunderstorms, we'd get a tornado. I mean, you'd think I'd remember that, right? HA!
*makes a rude noise*
The Impossible Son was not happy with us at all, and almost inconsolable at having to leave. He was sooo looking forward to spending the night, and getting up to make breakfast for Grandma (we have decided, as a family, that the Flaky Sister is not allowed even remotely near the kitchen when we are visiting), and being able to talk to her and... *sigh* The Impertinent Daughter wasn't happy either, but she understood and made an effort not to make things harder for Grandma (or me), and we loaded ourselves in the minivan and headed home.
You know, a long drive becomes even longer when it's late at night and... you have no caffeine. I felt obligated to stay awake to help the Husbandly One stay awake (since he was driving) and as moral support. Don't know how supportive I was, because I kept nodding off and waking up abruptly when we'd hit a bump, or I'd dream there was an elephant in the road ahead that we were about to hit, or have tea with, or something like that. I wasn't very talkative but then, my dad had years of conditioning my sisters and me not to talk in the car, so... it's not unusual that I was quiet.
The kids made up for my lack for about the first hour, but soon, the road hypnotized them into a sleepy daze, and it seemed only THO had the iron will to stay awake, thank goodness!
What was odd to us was driving into town finally around 12:45 or so, and the THO rousing us from our stupor with, "Wow, would you look at that!"
So we did. It was the local WalMart, which isn't unusual in itself, but... the parking lot was packed all the way to the highway. I mean, every single parking space was taken, and it had overflowed into the parking lot next door. That store must have been positively crammed to bursting with people! In all the years that I have lived here, I have never seen the local WalMart parking lot that full. Ever.
It was all for Black Friday, which it technically was since it was after midnight.
But... WalMart??? Seriously??
Anyhow, we made it home, crashed face-first into our beds, and slept the sleep of the just. Or at least, the just-got-homes.
Oh, and by the way, we resigned from the soccer board. Finally. Yeah, it was a long time coming, but when one of our board members told me to make sure to get a USB drive and download all the meeting minutes into it, the Husbandly One realized that there was going to be a move to either get me removed as secretary, or him as president, because we're viewed by this one particular person as a "voting block," never mind that I don't always vote with THO because I don't always agree with him. Funny thing is, I never wanted to be secretary, and would have gladly given it up to whoever else wanted it but... there was nobody else to take it. Seems this person also wasn't too thrilled about me being secretary because I'm "too outspoken," and never had a problem shutting him down, or telling him he was wrong and how precisely he was wrong, or keeping him from veering board discussions too far off track.
Apparently, I'm not supposed to do that.
And one of the other board members attempted to start a flame war of emails, which THO doused very quickly, but that was it for him. He said, "How sad is it to get an email from a board member who berates everyone for being unprofessional, and then turns around and calls us all losers? How unprofessional is that?? You know what? I'm done with that." And that was that.
So, he sent out an email to the board saying we were resigning, effective immediately, which gets us out of having to go to the last board meeting of the year, and means we don't have to be there for board elections or any of that bally-hoo. Which makes me very happy, because this means I don't have to sit there and practically bludgeon everyone into agreeing on set dates for spring registration, and times, and settle Miss Eileen down when she starts getting all wound up because this is soooo different from how it was done before, and fussing about kids using the same jerseys from last season and will the numbers not be duplicated, and what about the sponsor names, and...
... I don't have to do that anymore? OH... wow, I feel so... light!!
Yes, I'm enjoying this far too much!
Okay, I've rambled on long enough. Time for me to go wash some dishes, yo!
Tags:
"It's oh, so quiet, it's oh, so still..."
Monday, January 4th, 2010 09:36 amAhhhh... peace and quiet. The Husbandly One has been off for the last two weeks, so I wasn't kid-wrangling all on my lonesome during winter break. It was nice, really, and it always reminds me of the year he took off from work to go to school during the early years of our marriage. I miss it, but it's nice to have the house back to myself again. After all, more writing time!!
It was an interesting holiday, I must say. We drove into Houston for New Year's and ate dinner at my mother's. Well... tried to eat dinner, anyway. I waited until the next day to ask my mother who actually did the cooking. I mean, I know she made the cornbread, because she told me she did when she exclaimed in dismay over how flat and hard it came out. We decided that the baking powder she used was probably a little old, and she didn't use enough of it, anyway. In spite of that, it was still edible. In fact, the Impossible Son had two pieces and wanted more, but it was all gone!
And I know she made the black-eyed peas, because they weren't saturated in butter, or overwhelmed with garlic.
So, when I asked who actually did the cooking, beyond the black-eyed peas and the cornbread, she sighed and said, "Who do you think?"
And I said, "Mom, can I have Thanksgiving next year? I mean, seriously... the Flaky Sister cannot be allowed to cook for the family any more."
Let me put it this way. One of the dishes that the Flaky Sister served was some concoction of Paula Deen's that consisted of baby red potatoes cut into quarters, and green beans cooked in butter and, you guessed it, garlic. Did it taste like potatoes cooked in butter and garlic?
No.
What did it taste like, then?
I don't know how she achieved it, but somehow, my sister made baby red potatoes and green beans taste like turnip chunks stewed with turnip greens and spinach. I kid you not. How do you make potatoes and green beans taste so... metallic??? I even went to check the pot she cooked it in, sure that she must have used some bizarre pot she'd bought at some chi-chi frou-frou cook shop, but no... just the same old Farberware I use at home, no nicks or exposed places in the pot.
And her ham... GAH!! No, it wasn't as bad as the now infamous Salt Cured Ham-O-Doom of Thanksgiving 2008, but jays, how do you baste a ham... and have it come up dry????
*shakes head again*
Gave my mom her Christmas present on New Year's, and I really, really loved her expression when she opened it! I had crocheted her an afghan using Lion Brand Homespun yarn, which I love because it's thick, chunky, and soft. It was basically just a large granny square, but it came out beautifully, and Mom squeed and held it to her cheek, closing her eyes in bliss, and then she said, "I can't believe you made this for me!!"
Had to laugh ruefully over that one. Mom and I are alike in that we are continually making things for other people, and very rarely ourselves! When I was thinking of what to give her for Christmas, she had just been telling me how she had been working on an afghan for herself, but one of my nieces saw it in progress and begged her for it, so... when Mom finished it, she gave it to her. I realized then that while I had made afghans for my sisters, I had never made one for Mom so... I made one for her, just the right size to snuggle under while watching TV.
Then the Flaky Sister said, "It must have turned out crooked or wonky or something if you're giving it to Mom. Are the sides straight?"
I blinked at her for a moment, then said, "If it had been wonky or crooked, I would have kept it for myself. It's square. If you doubt me, go lay it out."
Of course, she laid it out! *snorts with laughter and rolls eyes* And yes, it was square and the edges were straight, just like they're supposed to be, and yes, that did put her nose out of joint!
Just to even things out, after dinner, I was curled comfortably in a corner of the couch, knitting and chatting with Mom and the Blonde Sister. When Flaky came into the living room to plop down on a nearby chair, the Blonde Sister made a point of picking up the scarf I'm working on and saying loudly, "Wow, look how straight and even this is! And you're just learning how to do this? I'm impressed!"
The Blonde Sister... I just love her so much sometimes!!
Seriously, though, the holidays do serve to remind me why we moved. Or rather, why the Husbandly One decided to take a job transfer that took us three hours away from Houston. Not just to improve my physical health, but to save my sanity, as![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vicki_sine pointed out on a recent visit. I love my family, don't get me wrong. But they drive me nuts. I can only handle them in small doses. Very small doses!
In other news, my writing is going slowly. After the Mac Melt-Down, I've had a bit of trouble getting back into the groove. Though I am trying to recreate some of the things I was working on earlier from memory, it's slow going, and you know, I'm the type of writer who works on several projects at once, mainly to keep myself interested and to help keep ideas flowing. Once I finish getting my backup set up, I suspect it will get a little easier, and I will be able to finish a few things.
*sigh*
The iMac, though, is still having issues. Namely with the fan. It keeps suddenly spiking and cycling high, and then slowing down, then suddenly spiking up high again. Like, right now, it's ticking along at 1205 rpm, but it will suddenly flare up to nearly 2000, then slow down again. And we have no idea why. Anybody else with an iMac having this issue? Just wondering...
Well, I must get about to my rat-killin', as my dad used to say when winding up a conversation. The dishes don't wash themselves, more's the pity, and towels must be washed as well. Anybody want to come do my laundry for me? Anybody?
It was an interesting holiday, I must say. We drove into Houston for New Year's and ate dinner at my mother's. Well... tried to eat dinner, anyway. I waited until the next day to ask my mother who actually did the cooking. I mean, I know she made the cornbread, because she told me she did when she exclaimed in dismay over how flat and hard it came out. We decided that the baking powder she used was probably a little old, and she didn't use enough of it, anyway. In spite of that, it was still edible. In fact, the Impossible Son had two pieces and wanted more, but it was all gone!
And I know she made the black-eyed peas, because they weren't saturated in butter, or overwhelmed with garlic.
So, when I asked who actually did the cooking, beyond the black-eyed peas and the cornbread, she sighed and said, "Who do you think?"
And I said, "Mom, can I have Thanksgiving next year? I mean, seriously... the Flaky Sister cannot be allowed to cook for the family any more."
Let me put it this way. One of the dishes that the Flaky Sister served was some concoction of Paula Deen's that consisted of baby red potatoes cut into quarters, and green beans cooked in butter and, you guessed it, garlic. Did it taste like potatoes cooked in butter and garlic?
No.
What did it taste like, then?
I don't know how she achieved it, but somehow, my sister made baby red potatoes and green beans taste like turnip chunks stewed with turnip greens and spinach. I kid you not. How do you make potatoes and green beans taste so... metallic??? I even went to check the pot she cooked it in, sure that she must have used some bizarre pot she'd bought at some chi-chi frou-frou cook shop, but no... just the same old Farberware I use at home, no nicks or exposed places in the pot.
And her ham... GAH!! No, it wasn't as bad as the now infamous Salt Cured Ham-O-Doom of Thanksgiving 2008, but jays, how do you baste a ham... and have it come up dry????
*shakes head again*
Gave my mom her Christmas present on New Year's, and I really, really loved her expression when she opened it! I had crocheted her an afghan using Lion Brand Homespun yarn, which I love because it's thick, chunky, and soft. It was basically just a large granny square, but it came out beautifully, and Mom squeed and held it to her cheek, closing her eyes in bliss, and then she said, "I can't believe you made this for me!!"
Had to laugh ruefully over that one. Mom and I are alike in that we are continually making things for other people, and very rarely ourselves! When I was thinking of what to give her for Christmas, she had just been telling me how she had been working on an afghan for herself, but one of my nieces saw it in progress and begged her for it, so... when Mom finished it, she gave it to her. I realized then that while I had made afghans for my sisters, I had never made one for Mom so... I made one for her, just the right size to snuggle under while watching TV.
Then the Flaky Sister said, "It must have turned out crooked or wonky or something if you're giving it to Mom. Are the sides straight?"
I blinked at her for a moment, then said, "If it had been wonky or crooked, I would have kept it for myself. It's square. If you doubt me, go lay it out."
Of course, she laid it out! *snorts with laughter and rolls eyes* And yes, it was square and the edges were straight, just like they're supposed to be, and yes, that did put her nose out of joint!
Just to even things out, after dinner, I was curled comfortably in a corner of the couch, knitting and chatting with Mom and the Blonde Sister. When Flaky came into the living room to plop down on a nearby chair, the Blonde Sister made a point of picking up the scarf I'm working on and saying loudly, "Wow, look how straight and even this is! And you're just learning how to do this? I'm impressed!"
The Blonde Sister... I just love her so much sometimes!!
Seriously, though, the holidays do serve to remind me why we moved. Or rather, why the Husbandly One decided to take a job transfer that took us three hours away from Houston. Not just to improve my physical health, but to save my sanity, as
vicki_sine pointed out on a recent visit. I love my family, don't get me wrong. But they drive me nuts. I can only handle them in small doses. Very small doses!In other news, my writing is going slowly. After the Mac Melt-Down, I've had a bit of trouble getting back into the groove. Though I am trying to recreate some of the things I was working on earlier from memory, it's slow going, and you know, I'm the type of writer who works on several projects at once, mainly to keep myself interested and to help keep ideas flowing. Once I finish getting my backup set up, I suspect it will get a little easier, and I will be able to finish a few things.
*sigh*
The iMac, though, is still having issues. Namely with the fan. It keeps suddenly spiking and cycling high, and then slowing down, then suddenly spiking up high again. Like, right now, it's ticking along at 1205 rpm, but it will suddenly flare up to nearly 2000, then slow down again. And we have no idea why. Anybody else with an iMac having this issue? Just wondering...
Well, I must get about to my rat-killin', as my dad used to say when winding up a conversation. The dishes don't wash themselves, more's the pity, and towels must be washed as well. Anybody want to come do my laundry for me? Anybody?
Because Auntie almost forgot!!
Saturday, July 4th, 2009 11:40 pmHappy birthday, dear potion_lady!! I had hoped to have a fic up for you, but alas... Auntie fails. Perhaps later.
And happy Fourth, y'all. The Husbandly One made his oh, so delicious burgers, and then we trekked out to the City Park for fireworks and completely shmaltzy, cheesy music. Fortunately, the fireworks were too loud for the music to really be heard, and there was one exciting moment where it looked like the fireworks crew had blown themselves up, but fortunately... not!
Did I mention it got up to 104 out here today, and the heat index was up to 110? Don't even ask what Auntie's low-grade fever got up to. Let's just say... it wasn't so low-grade, thanks to the heat. I shall take a cooling shower, and go relax. Hope everyone else managed to stay cool!
love and stuff,
Auntie
potion_lady!! I had hoped to have a fic up for you, but alas... Auntie fails. Perhaps later. And happy Fourth, y'all. The Husbandly One made his oh, so delicious burgers, and then we trekked out to the City Park for fireworks and completely shmaltzy, cheesy music. Fortunately, the fireworks were too loud for the music to really be heard, and there was one exciting moment where it looked like the fireworks crew had blown themselves up, but fortunately... not!
Did I mention it got up to 104 out here today, and the heat index was up to 110? Don't even ask what Auntie's low-grade fever got up to. Let's just say... it wasn't so low-grade, thanks to the heat. I shall take a cooling shower, and go relax. Hope everyone else managed to stay cool!
love and stuff,
Auntie
"Scooch on over closer, dear, and I will nibble on your ear..."
Monday, January 5th, 2009 09:04 amThe kids are back in school, the Husbandly One is back at work, and I have the house to myself once again. It's quiet, peaceful, and chilly. Though, it's amazing how much the house warmed up when I remembered to reverse the ceiling fans again and set them on slow. I had re-set them to the summer position (clockwise) just before Christmas because... it was warm and muggy.
I think that should have told me right there that Christmas was going to be off this year. The weekend before Christmas had been so cold, the way it's supposed to be... and then Christmas Eve day had been so warm I was actually wandering around the house barefoot and in shorts. Sweating.
*shakes head*
In fact, it stayed warm all the way until yesterday morning. The times I've worn my hoodie since Christmas has been because it's been cold indoors, like at the hospital in San Marcos. Or because I was experiencing personal winter.
Right now, though, I'm cold because it's cold outside. It's raining and 34 degrees. Great for the first day back to school, right?
I'm relieved, though. Time to myself is writing time, and I am very badly backed up where that is concerned. I mean, I've been writing, but in dribs and drabs. I think the last thing I posted was the follow-up to "A Visit," and then, the piece I wrote forharry_holidays. I'm working on more original stuff than fan fiction, these days, and I suppose that's only natural. My little notebook, which I keep in my purse, is full not only of the notes I keep to myself, reminding myself of phone numbers, things I need to do, and all the other things I have to write down in order to remember them (I call it my "low tech Blackberry"), but it is also full of writing notes. Story ideas, plots, drabbles, you name it. I've learned to jot such things down the moment they pop into my head, or at least as soon as possible, because many times, they flutter right back out, which is frustrating.
For example, on one page, I've scribbled, "My dreams were full of fire and smoke, heat curling the edges of a paper I held in my hands, smoke that burned my throat as I tried to peer through it, trying to figure out where I was, and why I was there. Even after I woke up, and started about my day, smoke seemed to permeate everything, hazing my vision as I walked outside for the paper, making my throat and chest ache ..."
I have no idea where I was going with that, nor what the heck I'm going to do with it.
How about this little tidbit? ...
He stared up at Draco, shivering as even the warming charms couldn’t warm his failing body any longer. Draco held his hand, staring back, trying to memorize every single detail of his face, of his eyes, of the way he just… looked. James swallowed, reaching up to touch Draco’s jaw. “Who wants to live… forever… anyway,” he rasped as tears filled the dark eyes.
Draco lifted the frail hand to his lips. “I don’t,” he whispered. “Not without you.”
James’ pale lips trembled. “I… I would do it… if I could… for you, Draco… I swear I would…”
“I know, love, Shhhhh,” said Draco, letting his own tears fall. “Shhhh… I know you would…”
“I tried so hard, Draco,” he whispered, the tears finally beyond his control and spilling from his eyes. “I tried so hard to live… I did…”
“I know…”
“I want to live,” he said, fiercely. “I… I want to live, Draco… and… and be with you…”
“I know, James…” He closed his eyes, kissing the hand in his, pressing it to his wet cheeks. “I want… so much with you, James. But… I’m grateful for what we’ve had.”
“I’m not,” said James, almost angrily. When Draco looked at him, startled, he closed his eyes. “I want more… I’m greedy, I want… I want more… it’s not enough…”
Hermione was sobbing quietly into Ron’s chest, and Ron was watching them with a dull-eyed despair. Harry had turned away from Ginny and was staring resolutely out the window, almost past his endurance.
“I love you,” whispered Draco. “I have loved you since the first moment I saw you, on the train in third year. I have known you were the one from the moment you fell in my lap that day, and… I never stopped hoping, somehow, someway… that… that we would…”
“Draco,” James whispered, and Draco stopped, staring at him, then he stood.
“No! No, not yet, not now, James, no, you can’t! You can’t die yet, please, baby, please… one more minute, please… I love you, don’t go, don’t leave me… James, James, please, please!!!!”
James stared at him intently. “I… I love… you… love you… always… love… my Draco… love…” and then he was struggling to suck in a breath, trying to breathe, his eyes focused so hard on Draco, who wanted to shout for a healer, but didn’t want to look away, didn’t want to waste that last moment, the very last moment he’d see love and life in those beautiful, luminous eyes. Slowly, the focus shifted, he was staring at Draco, but no longer seeing him, his eyes on some far horizon, and on a rasping, wheezing exhale, he breathed, “Free…” and was gone.
“James!” The wail was ripped from Draco’s heart, and he fell forward on the still breast, sobbing. “James! James, oh, gods, James…”
???
Who the heck is James, and what was I thinking when I wrote this? I've left no clues to myself, and yet, there it is. Nice little bit, a bit sobby, a bit schmaltzy, maybe a bit cathartic, but...*shrugs*
Then there's this lovely little piece that looks promising... if I can just figure out where I was going with it...
When Brian, exasperated beyond bearing, found Joshua, it was after hearing music drift down the stairs. Some sort of stringed instrument by the sound of it. He followed the elusive notes up the stairs, around a corner, and up another set of stairs hidden behind a tapestry until he found himself on a rooftop platform. His host was perched on the railing, one knee up, one leg down, while his back was braced against a column that provided support for an even higher platform. His face was turned toward the setting sun as he cradled a mandolin against his belly, his fingers moving idly over the neck as he played only to amuse himself, eyes lost to imaginary wanderings that left his lips upturned in a quiet smile...
Like I said, I have no idea where I was going with that.
I'm awfully glad THO is accustomed to living with a writer, even to the point of helping me do research from time to time. Though, really, he kinda enjoys helping me do some of that research...
Though I would like to know why I wrote "Expresso/no expresso, cheese, sandwich, no filler..."
*ponders*
Nope. Nothing. No idea, really. I imagine if any of you tried to plumb my mind, you would find it an inconveniently dark, slightly damp, and completely confusing place. With unexpected corners. And Labrador Retrievers bounding up to knock you over and drool on your shoes. Or something like that.
Yes, I am going into writing mode. Can you tell? Well, I'm off to huddle over my keyboard for an incomprehensible two or so hours, and then I'll be much more coherent and together. I hope.
Distractedly,
Auntie
I think that should have told me right there that Christmas was going to be off this year. The weekend before Christmas had been so cold, the way it's supposed to be... and then Christmas Eve day had been so warm I was actually wandering around the house barefoot and in shorts. Sweating.
*shakes head*
In fact, it stayed warm all the way until yesterday morning. The times I've worn my hoodie since Christmas has been because it's been cold indoors, like at the hospital in San Marcos. Or because I was experiencing personal winter.
Right now, though, I'm cold because it's cold outside. It's raining and 34 degrees. Great for the first day back to school, right?
I'm relieved, though. Time to myself is writing time, and I am very badly backed up where that is concerned. I mean, I've been writing, but in dribs and drabs. I think the last thing I posted was the follow-up to "A Visit," and then, the piece I wrote for
harry_holidays. I'm working on more original stuff than fan fiction, these days, and I suppose that's only natural. My little notebook, which I keep in my purse, is full not only of the notes I keep to myself, reminding myself of phone numbers, things I need to do, and all the other things I have to write down in order to remember them (I call it my "low tech Blackberry"), but it is also full of writing notes. Story ideas, plots, drabbles, you name it. I've learned to jot such things down the moment they pop into my head, or at least as soon as possible, because many times, they flutter right back out, which is frustrating.For example, on one page, I've scribbled, "My dreams were full of fire and smoke, heat curling the edges of a paper I held in my hands, smoke that burned my throat as I tried to peer through it, trying to figure out where I was, and why I was there. Even after I woke up, and started about my day, smoke seemed to permeate everything, hazing my vision as I walked outside for the paper, making my throat and chest ache ..."
I have no idea where I was going with that, nor what the heck I'm going to do with it.
How about this little tidbit? ...
He stared up at Draco, shivering as even the warming charms couldn’t warm his failing body any longer. Draco held his hand, staring back, trying to memorize every single detail of his face, of his eyes, of the way he just… looked. James swallowed, reaching up to touch Draco’s jaw. “Who wants to live… forever… anyway,” he rasped as tears filled the dark eyes.
Draco lifted the frail hand to his lips. “I don’t,” he whispered. “Not without you.”
James’ pale lips trembled. “I… I would do it… if I could… for you, Draco… I swear I would…”
“I know, love, Shhhhh,” said Draco, letting his own tears fall. “Shhhh… I know you would…”
“I tried so hard, Draco,” he whispered, the tears finally beyond his control and spilling from his eyes. “I tried so hard to live… I did…”
“I know…”
“I want to live,” he said, fiercely. “I… I want to live, Draco… and… and be with you…”
“I know, James…” He closed his eyes, kissing the hand in his, pressing it to his wet cheeks. “I want… so much with you, James. But… I’m grateful for what we’ve had.”
“I’m not,” said James, almost angrily. When Draco looked at him, startled, he closed his eyes. “I want more… I’m greedy, I want… I want more… it’s not enough…”
Hermione was sobbing quietly into Ron’s chest, and Ron was watching them with a dull-eyed despair. Harry had turned away from Ginny and was staring resolutely out the window, almost past his endurance.
“I love you,” whispered Draco. “I have loved you since the first moment I saw you, on the train in third year. I have known you were the one from the moment you fell in my lap that day, and… I never stopped hoping, somehow, someway… that… that we would…”
“Draco,” James whispered, and Draco stopped, staring at him, then he stood.
“No! No, not yet, not now, James, no, you can’t! You can’t die yet, please, baby, please… one more minute, please… I love you, don’t go, don’t leave me… James, James, please, please!!!!”
James stared at him intently. “I… I love… you… love you… always… love… my Draco… love…” and then he was struggling to suck in a breath, trying to breathe, his eyes focused so hard on Draco, who wanted to shout for a healer, but didn’t want to look away, didn’t want to waste that last moment, the very last moment he’d see love and life in those beautiful, luminous eyes. Slowly, the focus shifted, he was staring at Draco, but no longer seeing him, his eyes on some far horizon, and on a rasping, wheezing exhale, he breathed, “Free…” and was gone.
“James!” The wail was ripped from Draco’s heart, and he fell forward on the still breast, sobbing. “James! James, oh, gods, James…”
???
Who the heck is James, and what was I thinking when I wrote this? I've left no clues to myself, and yet, there it is. Nice little bit, a bit sobby, a bit schmaltzy, maybe a bit cathartic, but...*shrugs*
Then there's this lovely little piece that looks promising... if I can just figure out where I was going with it...
When Brian, exasperated beyond bearing, found Joshua, it was after hearing music drift down the stairs. Some sort of stringed instrument by the sound of it. He followed the elusive notes up the stairs, around a corner, and up another set of stairs hidden behind a tapestry until he found himself on a rooftop platform. His host was perched on the railing, one knee up, one leg down, while his back was braced against a column that provided support for an even higher platform. His face was turned toward the setting sun as he cradled a mandolin against his belly, his fingers moving idly over the neck as he played only to amuse himself, eyes lost to imaginary wanderings that left his lips upturned in a quiet smile...
Like I said, I have no idea where I was going with that.
I'm awfully glad THO is accustomed to living with a writer, even to the point of helping me do research from time to time. Though, really, he kinda enjoys helping me do some of that research...
Though I would like to know why I wrote "Expresso/no expresso, cheese, sandwich, no filler..."
*ponders*
Nope. Nothing. No idea, really. I imagine if any of you tried to plumb my mind, you would find it an inconveniently dark, slightly damp, and completely confusing place. With unexpected corners. And Labrador Retrievers bounding up to knock you over and drool on your shoes. Or something like that.
Yes, I am going into writing mode. Can you tell? Well, I'm off to huddle over my keyboard for an incomprehensible two or so hours, and then I'll be much more coherent and together. I hope.
Distractedly,
Auntie
Good Solstice!
Thursday, June 21st, 2007 12:30 pmOkay, teach ME to have plans for the Solstice! One, the Impossible Son is sick, so that limits what we can do. Two... it's pouring down rain. Shoot. Not that I'm complaining. After some five years of drought, rain makes me delirious with joy.
But it's the SOLSTICE!!!
Guess we'll have some indoor revelry.
Anyhow, Happy Solstice, all of you who celebrate it. Blessed be!
