Category Archives: Words Words Words

Ups And Downs

Friday’s score:

+1: Started and finished the freelance assignment. Hah! Put it aside to be proofed and submitted on Tuesday. (No point in racing to get it handed in on Friday; Monday’s a holiday and it wouldn’t get approved in time to invoice on Tuesday anyhow.)

+1: Lower back hurt so much that I yanked Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary out of my stack of reference books to use as a foot rest. Wonder of wonders, it fits under the desk, is the perfect height to take some of the stress off my back, and is surprisingly comfy.

+2: Good cello lesson. Also found out we’ll be playing Beethoven’s Eighth this fall with orchestra, as well as a Mozart overture, Schubert’s Rosamunde suite and something clarinety. (A bonus to studying with the principal cellist, who learns the programme ahead of time in order to do bowings.) Whee! I was hoping hoping hoping we’d do Beethoven with this new conductor! Good cello lesson stuff included dynamics and expression. Not-so-good stuff included intonation (stupid left elbow) and impatient sulky right wrist (who wants to lead like it used to and leaves the right elbow in the dust when I’m not paying attention). Lessons are officially set for Saturday mornings, Friday or Sunday evenings if my teacher will be out of town on Sat. (Note to self: I really need a mirror to practice with. I should cruise garage sales.) Also, I got group lesson material for the Christmas concert.

-2: Started reading two books, both pretty boring/badly written/not conducive to actually reading. Good thing two other books I reserved are in at the library (My Life In France and The Demon’s Lexicon, the latter of which I requested them to purchase, and they did!)

-1: Frogged all two inches of the in-the-round top-down short-sleeved sweater I started in April and tucked away in May, then pulled out to work on again two weeks ago. (Evidently I am not a summer knitter.) Frogged because I was increasing at every marker… including the one placed to solely identify the middle back as well as the four raglan markers at which I was supposed to increase, because I didn’t think the instructions through. Durr. Froggity froggity frog. Cast it all on again. I was surprisingly sanguine about frogging all that work and redoing it. Maybe it’s the lovely Harmony needles and the deliciously soft Pima cotton I’m using, or maybe I’ve achieved that knitting Zen thing. (Ha. Not likely. I think I just didn’t have the energy to get upset.)

Friday wins out in the plus column. I’m not counting the insane drivers on the highway last night who wouldn’t let me merge and the eighteen-wheelers who shoved me into lanes I didn’t want to be in.

Checking In

This week has been an exercise in frustration. Monday I finally admitted that I had a cold, and that’s been dragging on, although today’s been the best day of it so far.

I didn’t want to start working on anything new this week because I was expecting to be hit with a freelance gig right off the bat. This is typical, because they’re usually swamped with assignments and pass them out hand over fist. But this time, a freelance assignment didn’t land in my FTP folder till last night, after three work days of waiting. In the meantime I read through a chunk of my short fiction from the last ten years, and discovered that while they are all definitely first drafts, they do not suck as much as I was afraid they would upon rereading it.

I woke up this morning to a seized lower back. I’d thought it was better after taking care of it over the weekend, but evidently not. It was back to spasming, shooting pain, and inability to move. I saw the boys off, checked email, took a muscle relaxant, and went back to bed with a heating pad. Work would have to wait. Soaked up heat for an hour, slept for another two, and woke up feeling groggy but at least I could sort of move. Came back after lunch and decided today would be the day I finally engaged with Bell customer service to try to figure out what the hell is up with my email. Since the switch to the Mac, I haven’t been able to receive or send from my Sympatico address, nor use the SMTP to send from any of my domain-associated addresses. Bashing at the problem on my own and trying increasingly arcane Internet fixes hadn’t solved anything. I detest Sympatico service people with a passion, as they are very obviously reading from a script and ignore the information I give them right off the bat. Part of the problem got fixed in a surprisingly competent chat session that lasted under ten minutes; somehow my password had been changed. Aha! I can now download email! But it didn’t fix the sending. A second chat with another agent proved pointless, because Bell doesn’t support Thunderbird (why not?) and since his scripts didn’t cover my program, the suggested course of action kind of went like this:

Customer service guy: I can’t fix your problem from my script. Can I take remote control of your desktop and try to solve the problem that way?
Me: NO.
*goes and checks the Terms and Conditions, wherein it states that the agent has the freedom to install or uninstall stuff and change settings as s/he sees fit and isn’t responsible for anything going wrong*
Me: HELL, NO.

Because I know they’d end up breaking things that are working perfectly well at the moment, and leaving me worse off than before. And the Terms say that if that happens, too bad! I gave up the right to hold Bell responsible! So no thanks. I’ll just keep using Gmail as my primary, like I’ve been doing for the past 9 mos. And now I’m going to use Gmail’s SMTP as my outgoing mail server for my non-Gmail accounts, too. You are yet another step closer to no longer being my ISP, Bell.

Then I got an response to yesterday’s e-mail query about the ETA for my wheel from my Local Yarn Store, telling me that the manufacturer’s North American warehouse is still out of stock, and that they were told it would arrive “sometime this month.” The rest of the order the shop placed that day is in, but my wheel didn’t arrive with it. I said some very nasty things and grumped for a while. I could have bought one of three used wheels I saw listed in the past six weeks (and I just saw a fourth listed in BC, the same model I ordered, only used), and even with shipping I’d have paid the same or less than I’ve committed to for the new wheel. I am particularly wistful about the used Julia model in Maine that was selling for the same price as the new S15 I ordered. It is tempting to query about the $250 used Ashford Traditional in Georgetown, in the meantime. Because I could always resell it, right? (I should have queried about the $175 Kiwi last night before someone else jumped on it.) Because I really, really want to be spinning. And if the S15 doesn’t arrive in time for the spinning and crafting weekend we’ve organized on the first weekend of October, I will be very, VERY cranky indeed.

It’s not my LYS’s fault; they’re not happy about it, either. The North American supplier needs to get a move on. But damn it, I decided in July I was going to do this, and it is now September, and I just want my wheel.

On the other hand, I was working on smooth bow changes yesterday, and by the end of the practice session I did not suck as much as I did at the beginning. Lessons begin again this Friday night. And the principals from each string section in orchestra met yesterday to work out bowings for the first set of music we’ll be playing this season, and I’m very excited to know what those pieces will be. I’m really looking forward to working with Stewart as our new conductor.

I have no idea what to make for dinner, either. My creativity has run out in that department.

What I Read in August 2009

The Magicians by Lev Grossman
Spinning Designer Yarns by Diane Varney
Iron Kissed by Patricia Briggs
Blood Bound by Patricia Briggs
Girl in a Blue Dress by Gaynor Arnold
Worldwired by Elizabeth Bear (reread)
Scardown by Elizabeth Bear (reread)
Hammered by Elizabeth Bear (reread)
Teach Yourself VISUALLY – Handspinning by Judith MacKenzie McCuin
Cross Bones by Kathy Reichs
Good Things I Wish You by A. Manette Ansay
The Perfect Scoop by David Lebovitz
Monday Mourning by Kathy Reichs
Holy Smokes by Katie MacAlister
Light My Fire by Katie MacAlister
Fire Me Up by Katie MacAlister
The Secret Diaries of Charlotte Bronte by Syrie James
The Piano Teacher by Janice Yee
Evita by Nicholas Fraser
Wesley the Owl by Stacey O’Brien
The Intentional Spinner by Judith MacKenzie McCuin
Start Spinning by Maggie Casey
Spinner’s Companion by Bobbie Irwin
Grave Secrets by Kathy Reichs

Quick notes:

The Magicians by Lev Grossman: I wanted to like this more than I did. The tone of the book kept me at arm’s length the entire time. And it felt like it was trying to be two different novels.

Cross Bones by Kathy Reichs: Why do I read Kathy Reichs novels? They get worse and worse. They’re so monotone. Actually, I do know. I like the forensic stuff. And the relationship and interaction between Tempe and Ryan. But everything else… ugh. No tension, poor writing. I’m stopping here.

Worldwired, Scardown, Hammered by Elizabeth Bear:
Just as good upon the third read as they were upon the first in 2005.

The Secret Diaries of Charlotte Bronte by Syrie James: Much better than I expected it to be. I couldn’t remember what I’d thought of the Jane Austen one she’d done a couple of years ago (I read a lot of Austen-focused stuff around the same time and they all sort fo merged in my head), but this was on the new releases shelf at the library so I brought it home. A pleasant read, and a decent imagining of what might have happened.

Out of the spinning books, I’d say The Intentional Spinner by Judith MacKenzie McCuin and Start Spinning by Maggie Casey are essentials to have on hand when you start out. They cover a lot of the same stuff, but explain it in different words and with different photographs (both are excellently illustrated) so you come away with an even better understanding of whatever technique you’re looking up.

Weekend Roundup, End Of Summer Edition

I’ve got the second round of canned tomatoes happening. I think I’ll get one more round from the garden. Some of the weather has been so bad this past month that we’ve lost lots of green tomatoes, and a couple of entire tomato plants. Still, I’ll have about a dozen jars, which is more than nothing. I may buy a bushel of tomatoes from the market and do a whole bunch more preserving this season. It feels very much like canning weather, what with the sudden dip in temperature to high teens or very low twenties.

This was a packed weekend, made more difficult than it should have been by my increasing fibro flare-up, now with exciting bonus back pain, seized lumbar region, and spasms. Friday night HRH mowed the lawn and vacuumed, because we were going to be out pretty much all weekend. Saturday morning we visited the Preston-LeBlancs for a lovely tea party, where we all settled down and relaxed and knitted or chatted or drew, and feasted on cinnamon rolls (I tried a new recipe, yum!), zucchini brownies, berry cake, and zucchini bread. Back home there was a quick lunch then a nap, for both the boy and I because I wasn’t feeling well. After nap HRH and the boy went grocery shopping, because I just couldn’t drag myself out of bed to do it, and then we all went upstairs to have Chinese fondue with Blade and Scarlet, which was a lot of fun.

Sunday morning was the monthly Pagan playgroup meeting, which the boy adores. It was a belated Lughnassadh-themed circle, so I baked my Lughnassadh herb bread to share afterwards, and that was a hit. While the boy napped I made cookies, and when he woke from his afternoon nap we packed them, the corn pot, and the cello up for the beginning-of-season BBQ at my cello teacher’s house. The boy wore his Superman t-shirt and the little red cape ADZO had made for a birthday party, and ran around the beautifully landscaped backyard through pergolas and archways and lovely shady areas. There was fabulous corn on the cob, hot dogs, delicious artisan sausages, salads, and the usual fun BBQ fare, and it was nice to talk to people we don’t often speak with. After dessert we set up and did some playing, which was fun too, although it highlighted how lax we’d all been with practice over the summer. Then it was home for a quick to-bed, Blade came down to be the Designated Responsible Adult On Site, and HRH and I headed back out for our monthly RPG night. During which, I must say, I laughed harder than I’d laughed in ages, and appreciated how all the clues finally fell together.

The boy discovered the Justice League yesterday. He’s known about them, but he finally saw a couple of episodes, and now we are all referred to as superheroes. I am, of course, Wonder Woman, and HRH is usually cast as Green Lantern. I think this month’s treat will be a season of JL on DVD.

I went back on active duty with the ongoing freelance gig this morning. Orchestrated‘s pretty much done, the bank account’s looking low, and I need discipline. Also, I suspect that by working on someone else’s deadline again, the spinning wheel I’ve awaited for the past six weeks should arrive at the shop within about three days in response to my drastically reduced free time. Because life is like that.

In Which She Throws Down the Metaphorical Pen, Exhausted

A Twitter exchange between Ceri and I:

Autumn: Where are all the commas in this chapter? I usually have an excess of commas problem. Who wrote this?

Ceri: Cats! They’re in ur chapterz steelin ur commaz!

Autumn: Well, that would explain a lot. There must be a pile of commas in Kitty Wonderland. I’ll bet you anything it was Nixie.

Ceri: Someday, you will find her curled up asleep in a pile of stolen commas and it will be like a scene from a Jasper Fforde book.

But the point of this post is actually to say:

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a complete second draft of Orchestrated. *passes out*

Fifty Months Old!

I’m totally blanking on the monthly update. I kept horrible notes this past month. So much of it would have involved the trip to Nova Scotia, so I point you back there.

His caregiver came back from Toronto Trek Polaris with a miniature sonic screwdriver for him, and he adores it. He ‘fixes’ things with it, including people’s teeth and ears. ( “Because I am fixer guy who fixes things,” he explains.) We put the kibosh on ‘fixing’ people’s eyes the first time he tried it, because the thing has a blue tip that glows when you press a button. He also loves to help in the garden with HRH, which is great. He helps water the plants, and tidy things up. He was thrilled to be able to help HRH paint the hallway, too.

We are running into an irritating problem with food. When he asks what’s for dinner and we tell him, he immediately says, “Oh, I don’t like that.” Now, this is patently untrue a lot of the time. We tend to prepare meals that we can all eat together, so the automatic response really, really gets on our nerves. Both HRH and I have blown up at it once each this past month. Part of it comes from his conflation of the terms ‘want’ and ‘like’ – we have to point this out to him sometimes – and part of it comes from the fact that if he could live on chicken nuggets, he would. Except his memory hasn’t caught up to his tastes yet, because when we give him chicken nuggets these days he sort of half-heartedly nibbles them, then decides he’s done. We just need to keep reminding him that the kneejerk reaction isn’t helpful to anyone.

The biggest drama of the past month happened the day or the day after we came home from Nova Scotia. I’d unpacked everything and placed a travel-sized tube of hand cream on the toilet tank next to my hair stuff, to remind me that I wanted to take it out to the car. He used the bathroom and flushed the toilet, then spun around… and knocked the hand cream into the bowl as it was draining. There was a shriek and screaming and he ran into my office crying so hard that we couldn’t understand him. HRH came running from wherever he was, and I had the boy by the shoulders trying to calm him down. We honestly thought he’d hurt himself badly somehow, although we couldn’t see any blood. We finally got him calmed down enough to understand that he’d knocked “the sunscreen, your sunscreen, Mama” into the toilet and it had vanished. He was deeply distraught, and we had to kind of hide the snickers while I hugged him and told him that it was okay, that it hadn’t been irreplaceable or expensive, and that we knew that it had been an accident. We talked about how important it was to close the lid before one flushed, and gradually the sobs stopped. HRH told him that when he was little he’d done the same thing, only he’d knocked his mother’s hairbrush into the toilet, and he’d been afraid his parents were going to be mad, too. “Did you get it back?” the boy asked, interested. “Oh, no,” HRH said. “Long gone.” And then we had a talk about where the drains go, and the boy decided that if we got a big net we could go to the water filtration plant and scoop out both the hand cream and Grandma’s brush.

The language. Ye gods. I live with him and I keep being surprised at how he expresses himself. One morning he came to my side of the bed with a small stuffed rabbit and said with pathos, “Mama, Snowball is sad. He is very sad. Tears are dripping from his eyes, do you see?” And his storytelling is evolving, too. The stories he makes up to tell us are becoming increasingly developed and complex. It’s really interesting to listen to him. His expression and inflections are making a large leap forward now, too; he knows how to modulate his volume, pacing, and delivery to enhance what he’s saying really well.

Let’s see, other firsts this month… riding in the canoe, riding in the motorboat, swinging in a hammock, roasting marshmallows, learning how to skip stones. Uncharacteristically, Nixie is allowing him to pet, kiss, and hug her. I still can’t get over how good he was on the two-day trip down to NS and back. I’m so proud of him.

One Year Anniversary

A year ago yesterday my new glasses arrived. I have been wearing them full-time since then.

I can honestly say that wearing the full-time has improved daily life. I must also be honest and admit that even after a full year of wearing them, I still forget to put them on in the morning. I suspect this has less to do with my memory and more to do with the fact that my dresser is black and my glasses are dark brown, so they blend in. Also, I can see without them; I just start squinting and getting a headache if I forget to put them on. If I couldn’t see without them at all, I’d be reminded to put them on as soon as I opened my eyes. They’ve certainly made working at the computer and reading a lot easier, and watching movies and TV, too.

Overall, I like them very much. I think my switch to full-time glasses-wearing was aided immensely by thinking of them as an accessory rather than a medical aid.