How I whiled away my rainy Sunday: listening to a recording of BBC's radio production of Fellowship of the Ring and painting. Will possibly need to do more, as Frodo’s only made it to Rivendell.
posted on November 28, 2016
I have declared today a Periday; one in which I give not one fuck for anything anyone else thinks I should be doing to be a proper person. I have therefore paid mid-month bills early (because massive online banking clusterfuck scheduled for what else? mid-month, you betcha) and arranged to have gobs of cash on hand for mundane things, like groceries and the apocalypse and the upcoming frolic in Vancouver. (I’m actually leaving the island! For more than a day!) And I have resumed baking, now that my finger is healed. Mostly healed. Okay, no longer gaping and oozing. I cut it doing stupid knife tricks while carving a pumpkin last weekend. This pumpkin, in fact:continue reading
posted on November 5, 2016
There are things I worry about, these days, living here, with Nola, in this house on this island. Things like, will it rain before the cistern gets too low, or why is the dog limping, or has anyone counted the cats recently. Things I’ve mostly stopped worrying about: will someone shoot me if I hold Nola’s hand in public?
In my twenties, I tended bar for several years at a combination c&w/disco in Texas. It was one of the very few lesbian bars in the state. Pride Week was huge; everyone came out for it. It was a fuckton of work, starting early afternoon and going till legal closing time, which varied between weeknights and weekend, and beyond, since while we might shut off the alcohol, soft drinks and coffee meant the party didn’t have to end till dawn. We made noise, breathed deep, smiled and laughed and shouted our presence. I remember the packed bodies, the heat, the noise and thumping bass, Philip in drag, Mary and Rhonda and I sneaking smokes in between uncapping Bud Lights and pouring shots, someone ordering for a table and me adding the total as I poured and her not believing I could do that till I rang it up on the register. Another night on the door and being raided by the ATF and I carded them and was shown a holstered gun as their ID.
Pride is why I still hold her hand in public.
posted on June 12, 2016
Cardhu, our golden retriever, will be 11 this month. Which is getting up there for a large dog. If you check out Nola’s weblog, you’ll get caught well up on All Things Cardhu. So, anyway, he is getting on, and along with getting on comes the occasional emergency vet event, which we got to do this morning. He didn’t want his food, or his water, and a golden who does not want food is a sad golden indeed. He hunched over and panted instead, and the diagnosis of the vet here is he has probably hurt his back and now must rest and take anti-inflammatories and pain meds. No exercise for a week, and won’t that be fun? Not.
But there, it comes to us all, eh?
posted on June 3, 2016
- if there were god if there were
- we would
- things would
- plants bugs us lions day old mices us
- their eyes are not yet open
- their eyes have never seen
- their hours old eyes
- if there were god
- stink of burning years burning earth on fire deep deep
- if there were god what could burn
- if there were god what would not burn forever
posted on March 28, 2016