Flurry of last minute preparations. Painting sewing, wiring, packing, The Bucky Project, Anti M’s Home for Wayward Art, getting Jeremy The Nephew on his journey, prepping the SUV and trailer and camp infrastructure
… wowza.
All over on blogspot. I am too lazy to write two, three or four blogs.
http://maggiemayday.blogspot.com/
I do blog every other day or so, but not here.
http://maggiemayday.blogspot.com/
I ramble about my art, the dollhouse, the weather, food, random StarGate thoughts, the pets, MyLarry, Burning Man, books. And stuff.
I’ve been blogging over on um, the googly site instead of here. I thought to try to keep them both updated, but no one reads this blog, while the other has a couple readers.
Hai, not so much teh hoting this day, we forgoted ar pills yesserdai and now handsess hurtz lik hammer hitzed them ovah and oveah and aovah … owcheeees!!!!11!
So, I’m still trying to wrap my head around my brother’s cancer. I haven’t talked to him face to face, and I don’t know when I will get the chance. I think he is working this one last weekend. The SIL needs to find true employment instead of part-time tutoring at the elementary school. More than she’s done in the past, but still, the family has to have an income. All the kids are “adults” now, but there’s still one at home plus his girlfriend and one who comes home all the time from college. Sure, those two have jobs, but these are part-time jobs. As in a couple shifts a week because they’re in college jobs. Their money goes for their wants, not the household needs as far as I can tell. Neither of the kids has a car, so that’s another strain, transportation. The Jeep we sold them is still doing fine, it’s a good vehicle. Their old minivan, that won’t pass inspection next month, as usual, there’s so much that needs to be done they can’t afford to keep throwing money at it. So now the SIL is talking a new used vehicle. Which they can’t afford either. We can’t afford to help them, and my brother wouldn’t take money anyway. I don’t mind him borrowing the Trailblazer now and again, but when the kids want our cars, well, not so much the happiness in lending.
When Wayne died, it was tragic and unexpected, but quick. Nine days, not enough time to think straight. This time, this time we have time to fret and fuss and use up in terrible ways. I want to be supportive, but the SIL will shut me out unless I play her religious stereotyped games. Argh. We are dying off too soon, three out of four siblings with cancers, yes, plural, and the remaining one has polyps removed each year. He’s destined for cancer too if he ever loses his health insurance. There are not enough Bad Words in the world to express my dismay and anguish. I can try though, I can try.
All my life insurance, my brother is the beneficiary after MyLarry. I have to change all that, but I’ve been dragging my feet. I haven’t told MML that I had two cancers in 2004. I was hoping to hit the five year mark so I could duck the health questions. I disapprove of my behavior, but we have a lot of money sunk into the annuity insurance. The term was bad enough when I turned fifty, but the agent who called let it ride at the pre-cancer level. He said I could get the new brackets at the five year mark.
I have to redo both our wills also. We have not heard from Lonny in over a year; I don’t want my things to go to a complete stranger, a stranger who hates his dad. Thanks a heap, Dawn. She is evil, pure stupid evil. Ford and Desi will get everything, except a few family things. No reason not to do that, they’re here for us, they take care of me when I need them. Can’t say that about any of my nieces. Tiffany would if she could, but she’s not nearby.
And then there’s me, fat old me. I did get a new PCM, much joy. He flat out told me I needed to lose weight, which I do. I’m heavier now than ever before. Winter and menopause and Tamoxifen, oh my. I am supposed to wear loose clothing so the nerve across my hip doesn’t pinch and make my leg tingly. Right. I usually wear jeans and a t-shirt around the house. Now I am supposed to wear sweatpants. I have a couple housedresses, but those scream “I’m sick and didn’t get dressed” to me. I have two pairs of jammy pants, or sleep pants, a Family Guy and a Pink Floyd pair. These scream “I’m schlubbing and depressed.” I don’t even own sweatpants. Um, maybe one pair, in a drawer. Um, maybe the lack of exercise outfits highlights my lack of exercise. Could beeeee …..
I have always mocked fat old ladies who wear stretchy pants in public, now I am one. I am NOT giving up my jeans when I go outdoors! NO! NO! NO! They aren’t tight! They’re not!
And I spend too much time on the computer. Sigh. And the snow total was 18 inches. Sigh. even my fat old dog is well, fat and old.
I need MyLarry to get home this afternoon and prove to me I’m the most beautiful woman on Earth. Three or four times. He excels at that.
Over on weblog, I wrote about the snow which has been falling all day. I made a second entry after a call from my SIL. New blog as follows:
It is still snowing out, I had to go redo the driveway or mylarry could never get the Scion in. My back aches, but that’s no big deal compared to this afternoon’s news.
What a craptacular day, my brother now has multiple myeloma on top of his amyloidosis. The amyloids are protein chains in the major organs, unusual without cancer, but that’s what he has. but now, now! Now he has cancer, the blood markers rose to the levels indicating cancer. Myeloma is cancer of the blood plasma cells. Ugly incurable diseases both of them.
When he was diagnosed with the amyloids, they said he would die in six months, they were wrong. Now he has cancer, everything changes. He begins chemo next week, and some other treatment I don’t understand. I hate to ask and ask, so I will wait a bit. If the chemo and the drugs work, he has a few years. Real specific, that. If the treatment does not work, he has six to eight months to live.
A disclaimer: I am not talking about anyone in particular in this blog entry, nor am I trying to bait or insult shippers, I’m just doing my thing, expressing what’s in my pointy little head. You are responsible for your own reactions. Comment, please, but do not think you will change my mind. Enlightenment and discourse are encouraged. Snark and bashing, doubly so. Hehehe.
Okay, so I haunt the scifi boards, primarily SGA and SG-1. More SG-1 than anything, I am an unabashed Dr. Jackson fan. Hmmm, well, near-unabashed, my geek friends needle me about it. But hey, I embraced my inner fangirl and I’m having some harmless fun.
One of the things which confuses me is the proliferation and tenacity of the shippers. Okay, I can see why the ship is intriguing, I mean, I’ve had the random hook up thought. What would this person doing that person do the the dynamics of the show? Or, hey, they’d be a cute couple matchmakery ideas. For me it is primarily just thinking out loud and wouldn’t it be interesting if sort of mental exercise. I never try to read more into the show than what I see on the screen. If it isn’t there, it isn’t there! I can grasp slash more easily, which is an another entire caselot of cans of worms entirely. On clearance yet.
Yes, wearing the romantically tinged rose colored glasses could be fun. And what little fanfic I’ve read with “explicit sex” scenes has been hot. But I still don’t see why some shippers insist that the pairings exist and cling to them. What is the appeal of finding romance where there is none? Perhaps there is a reason I never took to Harlequin and other assorted bodice-rippers, besides the really bad writing, and lack of plot and character development.
Here’s a chunk of my confusion: why ship? Why not invent yourself into that world or universe and go for it yourself instead? If you’re going to imagine love or sex or simply happy cuddle-puddles, why not picture yourself in the mix? Almost every show, I can see myself, not as one of the characters, and most assuredly not as my old lumpy self, but as my alter ego, interacting and saving the day or being tragic or having really hot sex with the other characters. Or saving the day by having tragically hot sex. Hey, I’ve done it in my head! Could it be other people do not have these ideal alter egos? That this vision departs too widely from the episodes as they exist? Can it be that some shippers lack an imagination of that variety? Does their reality preclude envisioning themselves as fictional characters? Am I mad?
I have a theory. I had invisible friends as a child, but I always had an invisible “me” to talk to and play with. Yes, I was a lonely only girl whose father was in the military. We moved a lot, I had no long-term childhood friends. When I got older, the invisible me was no longer a buddy, but populated my books and movies. She was ten foot tall and bulletproof. As a teenager, I was angsty and a proto-goth. I would have out-gothed the current goths, had there been goths in the 70s. I made do with Tolkien and Edgar Allen Poe. And sometimes I’d talk to myself, we all do, but I had a tall blonde talking back to me. She still hangs around now and then, a vision of lost youth and impossible possibilities. She’s the one who creeps into the shows I watch now, creating fanciful stories which vary widely from what’s been written for the screen. She’s the one having the good hot time with assorted fictional characters. She’s a Very Naughty Girl. (On the other hand, I am a DOLL, a Dirty Old Licentious Lady.)
Yes, I have written a bit of fanfic, primarily to see if I could do better than other fanfics which annoyed the snot outta me. Yes, what got posted was the expunged version, the Lost Chapters were for private consumption. Yes, I may drop it onto fanfiction.net, but maybe not. She’s a personal thing is the Invisible Me.
So, I have to wonder, why picture a character loving another character when you could be right there, virtually speaking, yourself? Sex, romance or cuddle puddles, why them and not you? I don’t get it! As Dr. Phil might say, “This Ship won’t Sail.”
We’re on Wave Two of the Terrible Storm. California got hit much harder, but we’ve seen snow and yuck for days on end. Today we should get five to nine inches. The mountains are piling up, good for our summer water reserves, very bad for avalanches. Friday saw a heavy snow and rain mix following high winds, which cleared off the roads, melted the icicles and then smashed down the thicker blankets of white on the lawns. now it is snowing lightly, a medium snow shower, neither heavy wet nor light fluffy. Ogden sits between the Great Salt Lake and the Wasatch Range; the lake keeps our temperatures level while the mountains catch the snow. Further south near Salt Lake City and Tooele and Utah county, the Salt Lake throws moisture up into the snow clouds; they get the heavy lake effect snow. We’re up on a bench (geology, ancient seashore) so we get more than the valley floor, but in our little spot we stay warmer and drier than much of the rest of the Wasatch portion of Utah. We should see another storm front tonight or tomorrow.
MyLarry was home for Saturday; we got the holiday decorations down, in their totes and out into the garage. All I have to do is the tree in the front room, and all the fiddly bits which go in the teabox the tree is standing on. The kitchen looks bare without the poinsettias and velvet bows. The next two weeks are going to be full of mundane chores getting ready for my birthday party. Lots of tidying and putting away, dusting and vacuuming, stashing away the candle makings so we can use the big table as a buffet. I don’t even get to do the fun parts yet, wrapping the white elephants, choosing food, selecting the perfect bad movies and the correct shots to down while watching them. Or the correct cocktails, isn’t there a drink called a Stinger we could have during Swarmed? And what does one drink with Mega-Snake?
Anyway, we whiled away the snowy afternoon and evening in The Pit in front of the fire, watching awesomely awful SciFi like Beyond Loch Ness. Yeah, baby.
Oh yes, mundane chore I do like: redressing the Buckys. They’re still in their holiday finery, I must find their new Easter outfits soon, or something frilly and outrageous for Valentine’s Day.
Wrote it, saved it, forgot to publish it. Yeah, no one reads these anyway.
Oy .. tired and out of it, but that’s okay.
MyLarry has been home for days, so strange. I don’t get anything done when he’s here.
Sunday was alright, went to the commissary on base, stocked up on party supplies and animal food, bought too much clearance holiday snacks. So much for clearing the temptations out of the cupboards. Sunday evening we went down to The Dave 23’s birthday party, me and mylarry and Genius and Desi and the pup. The puppy was a big hit and snuggled with several people. Much hugging and helloing, and spread the word about my impending birthday party for those not on Tribe. I didn’t have a drink, and only munched a bit, made a shrinkydink and remembered how much I suck at Trivial Pursuit.
Monday was shopping day, I was snarly and mylarry was testy, he ended up dropping his new mug in the sink and breaking it. Yay, wonderful way to spend he last day of the year. We settled down and went shopping for plates and cheese and tiny fruit pies. We also headed for Tandy Leather and picked up more leather making stuff, he does beautiful work. The party was at Genius and Desi’s place, small gathering, we had way too much food and booze on hand. Genius made Mongolian dumplings from scratch, tasty, although I thought they were very much like gyoza without the frying. We brought our Greek sheep cheese, which I still can’t pronounce, sharp white cheddar flavored with horseradish, habenero pickled garlic, uncured baby beef smokies, crackers and a rather mundane cheese tray. And some clearance Lebkuchen. Yum. And some chocolate dessert cups which weren’t even opened. And the tiny fruit pies which were killer with the cheese.
Two glasses of champagne and that was it for me. Okay, two and a half, and Chandon at that. Plus half a glass of Italian Asti, Santini? which was far too sweet. And half a glass of Beaujelais which really needed to breathe more. I didn’t feel well, I hadn’t all day, so I went up into the library loft and curled up on the futon. Mylarry brought up my soft cape to cover me, I was also covered in cats. Edward is so tiny; she weighs maybe five pounds; the vet says she’s a dwarf. I listened to the party; Genuis had a download of a MSFT3k which was overlaid on his copy of 300. Freakin’ hilarious even if I couldn’t see it. Still, awfully long for a party. As usual, I started taking off my jewelry, I can’t abide wearing it when I’m lying down. Eventually I slipped off my bra, mylarry had come up for his kiss. We were naughty and tossed the bra over the loft wall into the living room. That got plenty of shrieks and laughter from the young’uns. Silly geese. I sense a trend here, the party ain’t a party until the old lady loses undergarments.
Today was more clearance shopping, all my Christmas staples for next year. We were hungry and neither of us felt like cooking, we ended up at … I know … Golden Corral. The one in Ogden is managed by a very conscientious person who makes sure his buffets are clean, the right temperature, and the servers on their toes. I’m such a foodie, but a buffet style meal is so much easier than ordering around our combined and several food allergies than trying to custom order from a standard menu. And GC has baked yams and rice, so I have starch choices which do not involve the dreaded nightshades. Sigh. Golden Corral. The epitome of fine dining in Ogden. At least it did not involve sparklers. (Long story involving The Maya, fire spinners, and a special dessert topped with sparklers. Yes, sparklers.) This evening has been dozing on the couch and watching Pirates.
Happy freakin’ New Year. No resolutions today, no profound insights or funny stories. Just getting on with 2008. Time for cuddles and snuggles!
People who don’t get my burner world are going to find this post confusing.
Snark = Sarcasm, snide remarks, backhanded compliments, mockery … snark can be unkind, but snark is also funny and a an art. Snark is best served room temp, provided the room is full of people with a good sense of humor and a wicked perspective on the world. I love snark, although I know snark has a place in the world. I don’t snark much on the Scifi forums, the audience is too varied and and for the most part, the snark is seen as mean. I get that. Over on eplaya however, unless I’m giving serious information to a newb, it is all snark all the time. We have a bar thread, a F*CK thread, politics threads, joke threads … you name it, we’ll talk about it. Say the word “manifest” and you’re a snark magnet.
Then there’s Tribe. Tribe is social networking and I belong to many tribes, each with a specific focus. Most of my tribes are related to Burning Man in some fashion, except the Farscape and Hail Darth Vader tribes. I left the “main” Burning Man tribe, it got too snarky even for my blood. So I’m on the Other Burning Man tribe, some Utah tribes, playawear, trading post, and Burning Women. I adored BW, Armadillo is the moderator, and she rocks. Very low snark content there, when I joined the people who posted understood snark and let it ride. As we moved away from the end of the event into the slack time, the threads became, well, still women’s threads, but weird. Weird to me. So most of the time I’d skip them, but now and then I’d be drawn in to a conversation. No, a discussion. No, an argument. And suddenly I was the bad guy, seen as snarky and mean. Me! Me so nice I was made a mod on eplaya nice! The women on tribe have become self-righteous and dogmatic, unwilling to participate in dialog. I left, I blew up on the Burning Bridges tribe. Double-check the name of that tribe: Burning Bridges. Oh yes, a place for snark and ranting and sillyness and whatever you choose. But the one woman who put me over the edge must have checked my profile/bio, and saw my last post out of context. She had no idea what BB was, only that I was bashing her. I got a PM taking me to task for that. Sheesh. I did get it all straightened out with her, which I needed to do, she’s a Utah burner. That led to my first friends only blog post on Tribe, and I was overwhelmed by the supportive nature of the posts, and how many women have given up on BW. This makes me feel bad for Armadillo, she deserves a tribe as awesome and fabulous as she is.
Now all this happened after the JoeMallozzi weblog with the resolutions hit, I went back and reread his resolutions, and sure enough, they rang a bell. Be less charitable, be less accommodating, be less patient. In fact, be less nice is what it boils down to for me. I mean, I will always be nice, I aspire to nice because my Mom was the epitome of nice. But I will also not suffer New Age hippy-dippy morons to intrude upon my sense of order and justice in the world. I will suffer good hearted, well informed, and eloquent hippy-dippy New Agers who are willing to engage in discourse, even when contentious. I mean, some of the people I love dearly are hippy-dippy New Age wide-eyed innocents. Just because I disagree with your … worldview, dietary restrictions, healthcare choices, lifestyle … etc. does not mean I do not respect you. I do. You have to understand that your choices are your choices, and if I deem the choices fit to be mocked, mock I will. Up to you to understand I find some things funny which you may not. Doesn’t mean I think you’re stupid or whatever, simply means I can see humor in anything. Just because a cause is near and dear to your heart, doesn’t mean I won’t wipe my bum with it now and then. Grow a thicker skin and move on, and know I love you.
TMI: menopause, which was on and wonderful, is now off. Lovely. No wonder I’m such a raging bint right now. Note to ovaries and other assorted female organs: knock it off. Didn’t you get the No More Estrogen memo?
Last night Genius called and wanted to borrow the Trailblazer to pick up Desi in Idaho. The storm was far worse up north, she was snowed in in Burley so he didn’t go get her after all. He called later and I asked if he could run me to Target; I wanted clearance Christmas cards for next year. Yes, that’s my dirty little secret; I use leftover cards! He said sure and he had something to show me.
The something is an eight month old saltandpepper, almost silver, Schnauzer. So sweet! She’d been hit by a car, and her owners couldn’t afford the vet bill; they abandoned her at the clinic. Her pelvic bone was broken, but that healed, her diaphragm had ruptured and she had surgery to repair it. The vet says she should be spayed right away, a litter might kill her. She’s been living in a kennel for about two months; the vets and the vet techs all have too many rescued animals already. The vet could either give her to the Humane Society, or sell her. Genius paid a dollar for the little dog.
She needs to be socialized to people and other animals. She went for Cricket’s food dish, but didn’t know how to eat out of a bowl! She also is not housebroken, and has no idea how to behave on a leash. She’s young enough that she can be taught these things, Schnauzers are bright and learn quickly. She does have the Schnauzer Shiver, and barks at perceived intruders just like Cricket does.
Genius had groomed her, she has one of the softest coats I’ve felt on a dog. We went to Petsmart and she rode around in the cart like a little lady. She did growl each time she spotted another dog, but was well behaved. Well behaved or traumatized, we’re not sure which. We tried on many coats and sweaters, nothing fit right; Desi will have to sew one up. Next I helped him choose a collar and leash and harness and a toy. I picked up some Feline Pine and a poinsettia collar for Cricket and a Santa Loofah dog for Oide (kill! kill! the Loofah dog!). Then we stashed the poor little doggie in the kennel in the back of the Trailblazer, we knew she’d be warm enough, we couldn’t take her into Target.
I was a Bad girl in Target. Not only did I buy clearance cards, but also holographic wrapping paper and bows, a crystal “L” ornament for Larry and a BC ornament, the only box of LED lights left, an electric eye plug, two Santa hats, too much clearance candy, some Bolthouse lemonade (not on sale), and My Little Ponies for Desi. Best score of the night? Genius found it; a snowglobe which will be perfect for my White Elephant B-Day. It plays Let It Snow, and has Darth Vader holding a naughty list! R2D2 and Luke and Hans are all crossed out, while there’s a lot of the baddies on the list. Ab-so-freakin-lutely hilarious. There was a Yoda globe too, but the music box in it was broken.
When we got home, the little pup shivered, ate more of Cricket’s food, and pretty much ignored the older Schnauzer. Cricket pranced and pawed at me, trying to prove she was cute too. How dare that skinny bitch enter her domain! We needed a name for the pup; she’s quite slim, and has the most incredible long eyelashes, I mean freakishly several inches long! She poses and has good posture, and an eating disorder (can’t eat out of a bowl, must flip the food on the floor). Cricket is a squat toad in comparison, poor Cricket! I told Genius she was a super-model dog, that she needed a super-model name. We tried Christy and Cindy, no response, but I hit on Heidi. Up went the ears! She answers to it, as much as she can. Genius likes the name because it is German, great for a Schnauzer.
Oide was curious about her, but we kept him across the room as he swats with claws out. Cricket is terrified of him. Eventually Harry ButtLicker wandered in, Heidi growled at him. He froze and studied her carefully. Then he began to puff up. Harry is a large cat anyway, when his fur puffs, he’s enormous. I gently nudged him out into the front room. Oide might swat, but Harry would seriously mess up a small dog.
A wonderful thing about the breed, they don’t shed. Nice! The pic is of Harry and Cricket, I didn’t get one of Heidi yet. As you can see, Harry is as big as poor old Cricket.
