Category Archives: LJ

Home again home again.

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Back home in Atlanta. The house is still standing and all is well. I’m too wired to sleep, which is why I’m awake at . . . 5AM. Five in the morning?? *facepalm* I’ve got much to do, mail–both e and snail–to catch up on, and Dragon*Con and Tangent work that needs my attention. But generally, I’m just glad to be home. My domicile is my sanctuary and my retreat; it’s where I recharge my soul. No matter how much I enjoy going out and doing things with people I love, I’m always relieved to get back and sleep in my own bed, surrounded by familiar things. Assuming I can get to sleep . . .

Our flight in was delayed by a couple hours due to a rogue t-storm, but at least it wasn’t canceled like our flight out. There’s a certain irony to being delayed by a thunderstorm during a drought. Their first rainfall in weeks and we brought it with us from Atlanta. Probably about as much rain as we could have fit into our suitcase too.

fosteronfilm‘s folks hired a limousine to pick us up and take us to the airport. The first limo was a white stretch. It sported champagne glasses (that we didn’t drink anything out of), soda and beer in little refrigerated compartments (that we didn’t partake of), and a set of televisions with attached VCRs (that we didn’t watch anything on.) It also had a moon roof–which I did peer out of–and sun roof, which I didn’t. Pretty swank. Apparently the cost of hiring a limo to get to the airport from Matthew’s folk’s house is pretty comparable to hiring a taxi, so my in-folks think, what the hey, why not travel in style? The second limo was much less ostentatious. It was just a regular Grand Marquis, no stretch. But the second limo driver took us through the winding back ways to avoid traffic congestion due to a couple accidents, and also through secret “service vehicle only” entry roads to O’Hare. He got us to our gate in plenty of time, but then we had to wait around anyway because of the delays. There were a lot of cross-looking people at the airport all harried and anxious. Airports really aren’t conducive to soothing.

Once the flight back to Atlanta got underway, it was absolutely lovely. There were some gorgeous clouds we flew through and over. Our flight timing was such that we took off just as the sun was setting and were treated to the sight of fluffy monolith clouds shading gold and silver by turns. I just knew there was a fairy city in them if I only looked hard enough, where fey creatures with huge feathered wings soared. After I spent some time peering out my window in delight, I grabbed my camera and started clicking. Didn’t see any of the cloud city denizens, though.


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A Day at the Races

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Having a lovely time with fosteronfilm‘s family. There’s quite a drought going on up here. The grass is brown and dying, and apparently the corn crops are a loss this year. Weird. On Friday we had flash flood conditions in Atlanta.

The in-folks treated us to a day at Arlington Park yesterday. I’ve never been to a horseracing track before. It was huge. And very white. We were inside–thank God, it’s hotter in Illinois than it is in Georgia, which is just wrong–sat in shaded air conditioned splendor overlooking the track for the whole afternoon, nibbling on brie and chocolate cake. Very decadent. Nine races in all. fosteronfilm and I bet on six of them, and promptly lost our twelve dollars. We’re so not gamblers. But our philosophy on it was that the money was paying for the enjoyment of having a horsie to root for, so it was all good.

The horses were beautiful. There was some excitement in the final race. In the jostling to the finish line, a horse went down, throwing his jockey and knocking another one off his mount. The second rider got to his feet, very shaken, but walked off the track without needing assistance. But the first jockey went down in a throng of horses, and while I know that they’ll do their best not to trample a person, there was really no way for them to not step on him. He went rolling under their hooves and when the horses were past, he wasn’t moving. I wonder if he got kicked in the head. The ambulance guys came running and immediately went to work on him. The track didn’t give any details about his status. I still have no idea if he’s okay, or even alive. I plan to do some Googling to see if I can find a news article about it. A sobering finish to the day.

[Edit: Just found this article on the accident. Jockey and horse are still being evaluated and their injuries treated, but at least I know the jockey isn’t dead.]

I also wonder about how the horses are treated. They looked incredibly well cared for–they were sleek and spirited. But there’s also a listing on the program to indicate whether the horse is on Lasix, which is apparently some sort of drug. And, of course, it was very hot. I do tend to think the horses probably have a decent time of it. At the very least because they’re worth so much money. If people are going to make the financial investment into racing, they really can’t afford to abuse, neglect, or starve their horses. I hope.


Writing Stuff

34-day reprint SALE of audio rights to “The Life and Time of Penguin” to Escape Pod. “Penguin” is going to be made into a podcast! I’m so jazzed. I’m a total Escape Pod junkie. Ever since I discovered these folks, I’ve been jonsing to have one of my stories turned into an mp3 reading. And even better, Stephen Eley, the editor, is going to try to get a little girl to read the part of the, err, little girl. *happy dancing*

Safe at the in-laws

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After some frustrating travel fits and starts, fosteronfilm and I are safely at the in-laws. Details of the ordeal to be posted later. In brief, aside from our flight being cancelled, my hubby is apparently considered a security risk by the airline. Maybe I shouldn’t have let him wear his Resident Evil: Apocalypse t-shirt to the airport. The words “evil” and “apocalypse” might be too much for the transportation security officials . . .

The folks are on dial-up, so LJ updates by necessity will be brief.


Writing Stuff

35-day reprint SALE of “Second Daughter” to The Sword Review. Thanks keesa_renee for encouraging me to submit to this new market. Woohoo!

In praise of GI cocktails

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Had a very, very bad day yesterday. Apparently, the monsters that had invaded my GI system were lying in wait, lulling me into a false sense of complacency. Okay, I probably shouldn’t have had the cold pizza and the orange soda for breakfast, but it’s not like I haven’t done stuff like that before with no ill effects. Felt like a herd of camels was standing on my stomach while a tiny demon with razor-edged claws tried to tear its way out of my stomach lining. This happens to me occasionally. It’s rare, and usually I can head it off with a determined application of antacids early on–it’s like a migraine of the stomach–but this time I couldn’t or I acted too slowly. I’m cursed by really crappy gastro-intestinal genes. Both my parents have the most appallingly delicate stomachs. My mother gets motion sick if she looks at a boat–I’m not exaggerating–and my father is prone to ulcers. Anyway, the last time this happened (many years ago) I ended up in the ER after an ambulance ride. It’s the kind of pain that leaves you writhing on the bed, twisting and contorting from pain, when you wish someone would slug you, hard, in the head, so you could pass out.

Had my follow-up with my “behavioral health” doctor and almost canceled since I was in so much pain, but I figured, he’s an MD after all, he can prescribe something, right? Last time, all I needed was a GI cocktail. I got Matthew to drive me in, since I didn’t think I could manage it. My poor hubby was distraught, didn’t know what to do but hated seeing me in so much pain. Let me just say again, that I am really unimpressed by my psychiatrist. He was unable to prescribe me anything, as he wasn’t that sort of doctor. He suggested I go to the ER or the Adult Medicine department on the floor above, which is what I did. But exactly what sort of medical degree does he have that he couldn’t prescribe me or ask a nurse to mix me up a bit of Lidocaine and Donnatal in a Mylanta infusion?

The Adult Medicine receptionist was a bit confused as to what to do with a walk-in since I didn’t have an appointment. She kept trying to tell me that “you can’t see a doctor because you didn’t schedule an appointment” and I told her, “yes, I know I don’t have an appointment, but I was here for a follow-up appointment and I just want to see a nurse or physician’s assistant who can give me something for the pain since my alternative is to go to the ER. I’m here now, and in a LOT of pain.” This dialogue was repeated several times (while I’m barely able to keep myself from doubling over in pain) until finally she stuck me into the waiting queue. An agonizing time later, I got to see a triage nurse who tched at my breakfast choice and checked my vitals before finally getting me the GI cocktail I needed. Nice take-away-my-pain woman. Nice. *pets*

I fell into blessed sleep once the cocktail took effect. My ordeal left me shaky, stomach-wise. Had a bowl of plain, white rice for dinner, and then a bit of pasta several hours later when I started feeling hungry. My insides are making gurgling noises now, but it’s so much better than the alternative.

For my own future reference, a GI cocktail consists of:

10 ml of Viscous Lidocaine
10 ml of Donnatal
30 ml of Maalox/Mylanta

I wonder if I would have been able to get faster treatment if I’d been able to ask specifically for it. When I was talking to my psychiatrist, I wanted to tell him “I just need this, dammit” but it had been so long since I’d been in the ER, I couldn’t remember what they’d given me, although I knew it was pretty straightforward. Now I’ll have the recipe. Wish I could get Lidocaine and Donnatal OTC so I could quell the pain as fast as possible next time.

Blah.


Writing Stuff

I’m excusing myself from Club 100 yesterday. Gut-twisting agony is not a good writing productivity aid.

I did, however, sign up to be a mentor for Absynthe Muse because I want to do some paying-it-forward, and I wish I would’ve had a writing mentor when I was younger. I might have stuck with it then if I’d had an experienced pro to encourage and steer my craft, and walk me through the process of marketing.

Bad morning, no biscuit.

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Ooof. Hobkin woke me up at 7, most insistent that he was starving and if he didn’t get breakfast right now he would surely eat fosteronfilm‘s toes. While it was tempting to let my hubby go toe-less for the let-Eugie-sleep-in cause, I dragged myself up and fixed the skunk a snack. Did the ungrateful fuzzwit thank me? Feel inclined to snuggle after his meal? Nope. As soon as he finished eating he scampered away under his hutch where he is now happily snoozing. But could I get back to sleep? Of course not.

*grumble skunk stew for dinner grumble*


Writing Stuff

New Words: 250
This folk tale is just not gelling. I wonder if I should put it aside and try something else.

Club 100 For Writers
33

Ice cream for breakfast!

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I’m having ice cream for breakfast because I can. It’s decadent and self-indulgent, and it makes me happy. Sometimes being an adult means being irresponsible and impulsive.


Writing Stuff

On an amusing “day in the life a writer,” lonewolf23 has posted an animation that captures writerly frustration. Warning: It’s pretty gory . . . for a stick figure animation.

New Words: 850
Oof. I’m at 2.1K and I’m only about two-thirds of the way through this folk tale. Damn. No help for it but to finish it and see what I can cut, I suppose. I suspect the space issue is what’s giving me such trouble in getting this one on the page. I knew this story was too long for 2K. Argh.

Club 100 For Writers
32

500/day
63

Nix on the jam. But all systems go on pie!

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After doing a lot of reading up on jam making via various Internet sites, I got utterly intimidated by the prospect. The final clincher was when we went to Kroger’s to see what they had as far as supplies. They had jars. That’s it. No jar funnel, no tongs, and of course no racks or anything more specialized. I have to admit to feeling some relief. I don’t think I’m ready to do jam yet. I’m going to hold off on my first foray into homemade blackberry jam until next year. Maybe I’ll ask for a kit with all the necessary and optional tools for a Christmas or birthday present.

Instead, I made blackberry pie. Surfed about online until I found this recipe. It had the virtue of being simple. Four cups of blackberries, some awkwardness with a boxed crust mix, sugar, flour, and about an hour later, I ended up with this:

It’s not going to win any pretty awards, but it’s fantastic on the taste buds. I added a little more sugar (about a quarter cup) because our blackberries are slightly on the tart side, but aside from that, I did exactly as the recipe stipulated. We had a couple pieces for dessert and it’s absolutely delicious. Yum! I’m so proud of myself. I made blackberry pie from scratch using the fruit from our backyard. How cool is that? And it looks like we’ll have enough blackberries from this harvest to make at least one more pie, maybe two. For the next one, I’m going to try to make it a little more visually appealing.


Writing Stuff

New Words: 100
On the folk tale. Progress is slow.

Club 100 For Writers
31

I think I’m in love with Dennis

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Spent the weekend in a queasy haze, but I think whatever was upsetting my system is done with me. But I have to say, if I must spend a couple days fading in and out of consciousness, the way I want to do it is with the soft darkness of a thunderstorm wrapping me like a blanket while the rain chants and whispers in my ears. I love the storms that Dennis has brought. With the air so soft, and the purple-grey sky, I can’t help but be soothed. I look out the window and I see the trees dancing in the wind. It’s just perfect.

Except I hope none of the dancing trees gets dizzy and falls down.


Writing Stuff

51-day “So long and thanks for all the fish” “Made the first cut . . .It’s a good story, well written, with some quantum weirdness and a likeable protagonist but . . .” from Farthing.
3-day form pass from Fictitious Force.

I need to set aside the short story idea that had me in a research frenzy and finish up that folk tale. I really must complete something here.

Super-sized fictitious boffing

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Watched Super Size Me. Very pleased that 1. I’m a vegetarian and 2. I don’t eat fast food. But watching it still made me nauseous. Although now I think the nausea might be due to something else. We ate very healthy yesterday. I had fruit for breakfast, and we had a vegetable stir fry for dinner. But even so, I seem to be having some sort of major tummy upset. It’s spread to a general malaise and headache, so I spent most of yesterday crashed out on the couch. Ugh. I’d wonder whether I’ve caught a virus of some sort, but I’m not sporting a fever, and with my immune system being as over-zealous as it is, if anything bug or bacteria-esque hits me, the first thing my body does is ratchet up a high fever. That would lead me to think food poisoning, except we don’t really eat anything that has a particularly high dangerous quotient–that whole vegetarian thing–and fosteronfilm has eaten everything I have, and he’s fine.

Blah.

A fun little meme, because I need something to take my mind off how icky I feel:

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Asian tiger mosquito attack!

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Went out berry picking again yesterday. The last few days, fosteronfilm has been going without me because the mosquitoes don’t seem to like him as much, but he also mowed the lawn, and found a couple blackberry bushes we weren’t aware of before that were overflowing with ripe berries and wanted my help. He was out for over an hour, mowing and picking. No bites. I was out for five minutes and got half a dozen bites on my arms. (He sent me back inside after I spilled the berry box while slapping away an evil bloodsucker.) I am, apparently, a tasty treat.

After putting ice on the largest welts and having a shower, I looked up my bitey nemesis, as they were stripey and scary-looking. We have Asian tiger mosquitoes, a particularly aggressive species that bite during the day, rather than the more usual dusk and nighttime biters. Lucky us. They’re not strong fliers, staying within 100 yards of their birthing spot, and I know where they’re spawning–in the fetid koi pond the previous owner installed. I want to tear out that larvae-infested morass and fill it in. I liked having the turtle winter there, and I’m fond of the toads that occasionally go *plop* into it when we get too near, but the mosquitoes are horrible. I wish there was a way we could encourage dragonflies, which would eat the damn mosquitoes, but I haven’t seen any. I suspect the water is too stagnant for them. We’ve periodically emptied it, but as soon as it rains, it fills in again. Gah.

Until we get the thing excavated and filled, I’m putting some vegetable oil in the pond. Supposedly it will suffocate the mosquito larvae. And next year, we’re investing in some Bacillus thuringiensis israelensis. No point in doing it this year. Berry season is only for a few more weeks, at which point I can’t imagine me needing to go near that pond again this year. Might even install that bat house I’ve longed for. I want more natural mosquito predators.

We hatesss mosquitoessss. *itch*