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Friday, February 28th, 2003
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11:10 am
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| Thursday, February 27th, 2003
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1:52 pm - Bitch and moan
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| Saturday, February 22nd, 2003
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8:14 am - From the trenches
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Point the first: Oh, joy. Oh, bliss. Oh, crepes Suzette on a skewer with a side of Spam. It's Saturday. The parental units are visiting. "What are you doing on the computer so early?" they ask. Translation: "You need to be doing loads of laundry and cleaning the house." Later. After three or four cups of coffee. My sympathies and empathies to you, May, on having to deal with parents.
Point the second: I was evil mommy last night. I got my DD in trouble with her basketball coach. Well, it was only partly my fault. Yes, we were yelling from the sidelines for her to pay attention to the ball and get under the basket. She was paying attention to us, instead, and mouthing "shut up" rather than playing her position. He fussed, told her to ignore the sidelines and pay attention to the game. She lamented to me that "Mom, you got me in trouble." Okay, I'm chastized. I feel guilty. Is this a confessable sin? Paton saint of overzealous parents I can do contrition for? Oh, well, we'll all live.
Quiz du jour . . .
Which Rocky character are you?
And, yes, I know all the lyrics so I qualify! *G*
On a plus note,  </a>Karelian, saint that she be, has beta'd "In The Midnight Hour" and I'll get to posting it at  rugbytackle soon as possible.
current mood:  peaceful
current music: Saturday morning cartoons
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| Friday, February 21st, 2003
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11:06 am - Friday and I'm still off
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This week's Friday Five
1. What is your most prized material possession?
Hard to say. On a celebrity level, it'd have to be the scrapbook I have from my college days when we saw band after band in Chapel Hill and Raleigh and I collected little bits of memorabilia . . . Honi Soit button off John Cale's jacket (love having to explain to all my *young* friends who the hell Cale is), Billy Idol's autograph on a napkin (don't ask, don't tell), guitar picks from Black Flag and 999 (I was a major punk girl). There are a lot of good memories there. On a more personal level, it's my shot glass collection. Every one has a story connected. Some wonderful. Some bittersweet. But each unique.
2. What item, that you currently own, have you had the longest?
The dress I came home from the hospital in. It's framed and the centerpiece of a wall of family pictures.
3. Are you a packrat?
Uh, do a Net search. The image you see is me. Every nook and cranny in this house is full. Too full.
4. Do you prefer a spic-and-span clean house? Or is some clutter necessary to avoid the appearance of a museum?
What is this spic-and-span you speak of? *g* My house is clean once a month, when I go on a rampage. Other than that, it's the attic at the Smithsonian.
5. Do the rooms in your house have a theme? Or is it a mixture of knick-knacks here and there?
Not really a theme. Living room is predominantly antiques, things gotten from my grandmother. If clutter is a theme, then the guest bedroom is a masterpiece in thematic dysfunction. I like things that give me comfort on several levels. Closest to a true theme is the study, wherein resides all my vampire novels, my LOTR figures, my D&D stuff and other assorted *weird* hobbies.
current mood:  amused
current music: Squeeze
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| Thursday, February 20th, 2003
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11:56 am - Friday Five (on Thursday)
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| Wednesday, February 19th, 2003
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7:58 pm - Quizzes are us
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Okay, I've been saving up and it's spamming time!*G*
( Spammage )
Now back to the regularly scheduled programming.
Fascinating study came out this week on dreams. A replication of a 1942 study on color versus black and white. Do we dream in color? Or do we assign color upon waking? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Does it really matter? The point is dream and listen to what your subconscious is saying. "You can't get rid of your own mind. And yet we know it so poorly." So sayeth Eric Schwitzgebel, philosophy professor responsible for the study.
current mood:  stressed
current music: whatever Sara has on the TV
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| Sunday, February 16th, 2003
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9:17 pm
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1:53 pm
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| Saturday, February 15th, 2003
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11:48 pm
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A Saturday night waiting for the ice storm kind of quiz, gacked from Misty . . .
I am 43% Tortured Artist
I have some artistic ability, but it is probably a hobby and doesn't drive my life into a dark abysmal hole were I am alone and against the world.
Take the Tortured Artist Test at fuali.com
Ahhhh . . . I see the problem now. I'm not tortured enough. That's why nothing ever gets finished. *sigh*
current mood:  artistic
current music: rain splattering on the window
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2:34 pm
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Today's quiz time brought to you by TPTB . . .
Okay, Lota's Artemis. I'm Athena. We're working our way to a full pantheon. *smirk*
News from the front
No, not the war. I'm trying to ignore that while at home. I get more than enough of it at work. I'm in charge of pulling together the background graphics for the "day we go to war" special edition plus a graphic package for next week on what you need to have in the event of a disaster. Oh, and good news, the iodine tablets came in last week. The perk of living 10 miles from a nuclear reactor. Working for a newspaper is a mixed blessing when the country's in a crisis. We have to deal with all the trench coverage, which means long hours, double duty and such. But we also are a pretty liberal bunch and it's okay to vent. I can voice my opposition to the growing conflict with Iraq without getting screamed at. Don't know if I could actually wear the "No more blood for oil" T-shirt, but I might give it a try on casual Friday. *grin*
Thinking Day over! Yes, I survived some 200 Girl Scouts and our Brownies' skit went well. We had Australia. G'day, mate! Made a couple hundred boomerang swaps and passed out a sheet on how to speak Aussie. Now we turn attention to delivering the 340 boxes of cookies sitting in my study. Argh!
Hamsters We're down to six of 'em. Willow, Elijah, Sheffield and the babies, whose names are (if you ask me) Boromir, Strider and Haldir OR (if you ask Sara) Boromir, Aragorn and Nibbles. Wonder how Craig would feel about being called Nibbles? *wacky gin* Eowyn ran off. I unfortunately found her, dead, in one of the humane gummy traps I had set out for the family of mice living under our house. I think the idea of living with BS&H was just more than she could deal with. We donated Legolas to fifth-grade class at school whose hamster died last week. He promptly escaped from the cage and spent the day wandering around the classroom. Ever the quester, that one.
Sports update
My beloved Tar Heels . . . Don't ask. At 11-9 (2-5 conference), the men's basketball team is riding a season-high losing streak. I'm shifting my loyalties to the lacrosse team. The Cardinals Mike Celizic has a great piece on why we let La Russa hang around at Tony stays
Okay, I have to write today. If I don't get Sean to come soon, he's going to burst. And that'll leave such a mess for Craig and Marton to clean up.
current mood:  drained
current music: "One Tin Soldier" wafting through my brain
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| Friday, February 14th, 2003
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5:06 pm
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Saint Valentine didn't die a horrible enough death. But, then again, that's just the opinion of a cynical lover with no significant other at hand to torture.
Aside to Misty . . . fundamental difference between Ed and Sitz is that Sitz is cute. Ed's just obnoxious with no redeeming value what so ever. And, according to today's email, Ed made all the changes and we're wonderful people.
current mood:  devious
current music: co-workers chatting inanely
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| Thursday, February 13th, 2003
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9:29 am - Good morning, world!
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Ah, I feel so much better now that I know this . . .
current mood:  weird
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| Wednesday, February 12th, 2003
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6:04 pm - From the trenches
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Wednesday. Hump Day. Hah! It's Hell Day around the paper.
And we got to have another "war meeting." I just love sitting around planning what we're going to do when war breaks out. Wouldn't it be so much nicer if we sat around trying to figure out how to stop the damned thing.
Question for the day: Will I make it home in time to see Angelus?
On the homefront: There is a reason hamsters eat their babies. They get exasperated beyond belief. Fortunately for the 9-year-old, humans don't do that. We just take lots of deep breaths, count to 100 and try not to go ballistic when she "forgets" to corrrect for the sugar high mid-morning, then "forgets" to give herself an insulin bolus for lunch, which included a cupcake for her friend's BD. We calmly point out that it's not a good thing for her sugar to be over 600 and be throwing ketones. Then we put in X-Men and let the rage pass.
News you can't use: It's official. The living members of the Grateful Dead are no longer Grateful. Nor are they the Other Ones. They're simply the Dead. The decision, however, was not unanimous. And Jerry Garcia could not be reached for comment, although we understand John Edwards was getting some positive vibes about midnight.
Bidding update: Sean's underwear (unused, alas) is holding steady at 120 pounds. Still debating on whether or not to bid. It's so damned tempting. And it'd be such a nice Valentine's gift to myself since I'm not getting any from anybody else. Other than maybe a nasty IM complaining that I'm not IMing a certain unnamed someone enough.
current mood:  cynical
current music: INXS, "Kick" trax
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12:18 am
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Poem found while cleaning desk. Remnant of my vampire days.
Prayer for Prey
Listen to my words, child of Seth.
Worship us. Seek not our death.
You cannot claim our kiss.
Mourn for what you will miss.
Your soul is the bread
On which we are fed.
Your veins the vine,
Eternal wine.
An embrace.
A new race.
Darkness sans end.
Sweet flesh to rend.
Uriel's fire burns
As Lilith's soul yearns
To be touched by the calm
Of Lucifer's cold palm.
Revel in the mortal's pain.
Feast on Seth's brood, child of Caine.
current mood:  gloomy
current music: silence
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| Tuesday, February 11th, 2003
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10:41 pm - Drum roll . . .
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'ello, Misty. I'm back. Big smile now.
The last week has been hell on wheels. Work. Sara's school. Work. Weekend with parents and sibling. Oh, now that was a joy. *smirk* Girl Scouts and Thinking Day. Lions and tigers and bears. Oh, my!
Okay, that's out of my system.
Writing report In the kitchen . . . Sean's between Scylla and Charybdis and going down . . . Craig's scoring delightful patterns on his chest while Marton whispers naughty nothings in his ear in that voice only Marton can wield. You know the one, Alex. *grin* It's nearly 2,000 words already and nearly finished. Just have to get the guys over that last precipice.
On the snowy slopes of Caradhras . . . Legolas is swaying Boromir to the dark side . . . okay, so we all know it won't take too much persuasion . . . but Boromir was kind enough to point out how Faramir is more fine-tuned to the dagger than he and would thoroughly enjoy the Elf's company once they get to Minas Tirith. This one is being somewhat of a bitch. I know where I want it to go, even have thoughts of Legolas pairing Boromir with Haldir when they get to Lothlorien. I'm getting swamped with the backstory, futurestory, whatever the hell you call it.
Viggo's house . . . morning-after sex is nearly as good as the night before . . . a little less bondage, but you know one can't stay woven in satin indefinitely.
And now my brain is pulsing with images of Aragorn and Boromir as vampires. Thank you, Lanna. *toothy grin*
Yes, if I'd stop being a perfectionist, you'd have these fictions already. Chastise me. I need it.
Test front While I wasn't writing, I was taking those delicious Internet quizzes. Click on the spammage if you want to know what kind of poetry I am.
( Poetry spammage )
Or how evil I am.
( Evil is us )
Or just how compatible Sean Bean and I are. I knew it was true. *stupid fucking grin*
( Shaun is sexier )
current mood:  guilty
current music: Hugh Jackman's voice (Sara's watching X-Men)
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| Monday, February 3rd, 2003
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8:35 am - Another week begins
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Gacked from other lists, but I found it an interesting endeavor for a Monday morning. I took the first five books within fingers' reach.
First lines survey
"Snow, tenderly caught by eddying breezes, swirled and spun in to and out of bright, lustrous shapes that gleamed against the emerald-blazoned black drape of sky and sparkled there for a moment, hanging, before settling gently to the soft, green-tufted plain with all the sickly sweetness of an over-written sentence.
Steven Brust To Reign In Hell
"The storm came up out of the southwest like a fiend, stalking its prey on legs of lightning."
Clive Barker Abarat
"Nudging one of his slaves with the toe of his boot, Bishop Freculf waited for him to bring a stool so he could dismount with the dignity of his station."
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Night Blooming
"Death is my beat."
Michael Connelly The Poet
"There's a light on in the attic."
Shel Silverstein A Light in the Attic
( Today's quiz spammage )
Okay, I'll admit I was a little surprised by the TTT pairing. The FOTR one was a major given.
Hugs to all to start the week off right!
current mood: amused
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| Sunday, February 2nd, 2003
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4:39 pm
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2:47 pm
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It is assumed that journalists are cold-hearted, cynical by nature and immune to life's tragedies. We are not. We are just conditioned by our life's work to move forward in spite of everything. We cried when the towers came toppling down. We also yelled at each other and agonized over how to tell the story in that day's special edition. And we cried yesterday.
But, more inevitable than either death or taxes, is life. It goes on. No matter how much we might prefer it not. Though we mourn, the world does not stop whirling on its axis. We are not given pause for respite. When I heard of Columbia's tragic lost -- via Internet friends I might add, since they don't break into the WB's cartoon time with such news -- I said a silent prayer for the souls gone and those who will have to cope with being left behind. I know what it is to grieve. I have buried a husband, the father of my child, the other half of my soul. And that mourning will never cease. It waxes and wanes as surely as the moon rises and falls. But it is constant.
Then I went on with my life's plans for the day. I gamed for seven hours, a thief wielding a long sword against orcs and brain-sucking vines, all for glory and treasure. I watched my darling daughter, the sole reason I can exist in such a cruel world somedays, go and kill orc after orc as an elven archer. We suspect she's channeling her father. For a brief instant, reality was forced into retreat.
Today is another day, however. The sun did come up. We dragged ourselves out of bed. And we moved forward. On this Groundhog Day, on Gobbler's Knob in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, at 7:27 a.m., a groundhog named Phil got up, too. He saw his shadow and thus six more weeks of winter there will be.
Saturday was Beryll's birthday, and in honor of the passing of another year, a drabble . . .
( Wherein Karl is rumpled )
And on a deliciously wonderful note, the thought of Sean and Orlando together again in "Troy" . . . yummy . . . if you want to hear Sean himself talk about it, give a listen to Jonathan Ross show from Saturday at Sean talks . . . you have to skip ahead to about 20:30 or so to get Sean's interview, but it's worth it.
current mood:  pensive
current music: Sarah Maclachlan's "Do What You Have To Do"
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| Thursday, January 30th, 2003
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11:22 pm - Back again
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| Tuesday, January 28th, 2003
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8:27 am - Back to work
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Day off was rejuvenating. Got those nasty errands run. Got my DVDs into a new tower so they're all nice and pretty. Top two tiers are LOTR guys, then a shelf of vampires, then all the others. Organizing them reminded me of college days when we separated out the albums into milk crates by East Coast Headbangers, L.A. Headbangers, British punk, ska, etc.
On the writing front: Nearly finished with Marton and Craig seducing Sean ("Elves Bearing Gifts"), made significant progress on the Legolas as Ring-obsessed Evil Elf saga ("Deceptive Moon") and actually penned a little more on the Viggo and Sean vie for dominance ("After Midnight"). Several members of my writers' group would most likely recommend shooting me since I haven't touched the Faulknerian vampires lately. But, hey, I'm writing something.
Sara front: Blood sugar under 200 this morning, first time in days. We only fussed about her not brushing her hair this morning.
Hugs to Lota: It's in the Sister Handbook, page 234, that they shalt annoy the crap out of you at the most inconvenient times. Hope your sleep was Celeborn-filled. And I'll definitely take one of those "Property of an Evil Elf" shirts.
current mood: complacent
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predatory
quixotic
busy
enthralled
cold
ecstatic