Category Archives: Diary

Cautiously Optimistic

Ah, sweet, sweet crackers. I have eaten half a box of Carr’s already and am feeling very chuffed. Next: The fresh bread that will be done in, oh, forty-five minutes. And the rest of yesterday’s soup.

The new cell phone is operational. The last customer service rep I spoke with was very supportive and sympathetic about the lost-then-stolen-phone plight, and we tsked together over ‘people today.’ Now I get to spend half an hour entering numbers from the address book. Oh, joy.

And there will be writing today, too, especially since I notified the central whatsit of the company for whom I’m currently doing freelance evaluations to tell them that it’s day five and I still don’t have the required material to complete the assignment given last Friday, so I’m telling them to take the assignment off my to-do list because even if they get it to me today I can’t hand it in by the deadline this Friday. As for what I will write today, I don’t know if it will be Orchestrated or some developmental work on the collection of essays I thought up the other day. (Upon a quick scan of the posts I’ve made over the past two weeks I see that I have not mentioned this project here at all. Consider this your notification, gentle readers: I thought up a themed collection of personal opinion essays the other day. There.) Or I could work on both, too. Nothing stopping me from working on one till I run out of steam, then turning to the other.

Ongoing

Soup and some animal crackers: Check.

Brief nap: Check.

Phone activation: I called, they reinstated the account, then I have to call back in half an hour to handle the rest of it. Half an hour after that the new phone will be working. Good grief.

Work: Still no sign of the assigned manuscript or an answer from the controller.

Different work: Trying to compose a response to a query from my publisher.

I have no idea what HRH and the boy are eating tonight; the thought of preparing food makes me want to be ill. There are enough leftovers in the fridge to keep them happy.

The issue of Strings was somewhat disappointing. It used to have deeper articles. These past couple of issues have seemed pretty superficial.

Sigh. Back to composing that e-mail.

Dragging Oneself Into Monday

Oh gods. So. very. sick.

I find it moderately unfair that this seems to be getting worse as it’s passed along to each family member. The boy had the collywobbles first on Thursday night and threw up once, then just had an upset tummy on Friday. HRH had the collywobbly tummy on Saturday and part of Sunday. I had the usual getting-sick powering-down of energy on Sunday, but didn’t actually manifest anything until 1:42 AM last night, at which time I woke up and thought I was going to die. And then I proceeded to stay awake for three hours, thinking I was going to die. I moved to my office and tried to distract myself by transposing a song Sandman7 and I want to play together at some point, which was surprisingly successful, checked on the sleeping boy a few times (including sitting down on the floor next to his bed, putting an arm around him and lying my cheek on his side to cuddle him as he slept), and finally got back to my own bed to sleep around 4:30. And then an hour later a damned cat knocked over the screen that gives them privacy in the litterbox, which sounded like a gunshot and woke both HRH and I up… and the boy too. I got up to check what it was, stomped back to bed and fell asleep. I woke up around 7:00 with the boy burrowing into bed next to me with his stuffed Maggie-cat in one hand and BunBun in the other, so we could both cuddle something. It was nice to snuggle him till it was almost time for him and HRH to hit the road to their respective schools. I waved as usual and then stumbled back to bed.

I woke up again at 9:30, still feeling moderately oh-gods-I-want-to-die, and then realised (A) with great argh that it was in fact October 6, which was Mousme’s date to have her head shaved live on radio for the Shave to Save campaign for breast cancer… at 8:00 AM, which had been ninety minutes earlier; and (B) with a bit of panic that the landlord was coming by this morning to power-wash the garage door in preparation for painting it this week. So I leapt out of bed and scrambled myself into some sort of reputable state, and here we are.

Collywobbles and upset stomachs and wanting to die aside, we all had a lovely weekend. The weather was beautiful and crisp. On Saturday HRH acquired an Xbox 360 at a hundred dollars off the customary price (!) (“I shouldn’t do this,” he fretted, so I helpfully enabled him by pointing out that if he ever wanted to play a new Xbox game again he’d have to buy one at some point), I acquired a new cell phone (which is black and very light, and we have discovered that the back has red sparkles in it when you angle it properly in the sun), and the boy acquired a new Thomas the Tank Engine DVD (because wow are we sick of the ones we have). After everyone napped we hied ourselves to Tal’s housewarming party where we saw many friends, including some I hadn’t seen in fifteen years (let me tell you, it was odd to sit on a blanket chest with girls I’d last seen ages and ages ago, all talking about our kids) and others who I’d always seen at parties but never had the chance to speak with (parties for me tend to be ‘hit the people you know and exchange essential info ASAP because eek, look, a crowd’). The boy had a wonderful time galumphing around with two older children, who seemed cheerfully willing to galumph with someone less than half their age and whose father was willing to galumph around outside with them in the first fallen leaves of the autumn, along with HRH. When we said it was time to go the boy just stood there next to his newfound friends and burst into tears. “A sign that things have gone well,” their father said, and we shared knowing looks.

On Sunday HRH started putting the gardens to bed for the winter. The biggest part of this was harvesting all the damn carrots, a job he shared with the boy who has taken a big bunch of them to school today for show and tell and snacking, greens still on and everything (because how much do you want to bet that most of these kids have never seen a carrot that’s just been pulled from the ground?).

And now I get to settle down and do another manuscript evaluation, assuming it’s actually arrived in my work folder. It hadn’t on Friday, despite the notification that it had been assigned. I need some time away from Orchestrated anyhow, after the numbing sprint over the past two weeks.

Orchestrated Update

New words today: 2,212
Total word count, Orchestrated: 21,400

Stiff and achy again today, with lousy power in the limbs. Stupid fibro.

Oh look, words. Yay for words! And look, we also broke the 20K barrier. w00t! We are officially over one-third of the way there. Another word meter is called for:

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
21,400 / 60,000
(35.7%)

On Voting

I don’t talk about politics very much here because it’s my journal, and politics annoy me because they’re not what they ought to be.

But after watching highlights of the French leadership debate, overhearing bits of the English debate (notably the crack of “Where’s your platform, under the sweater?” which I heard clearly all the way in the bedroom), and reading about the various statements that leaders have made while on tour, I have this to say:

I represent Stephen Harper’s worst nightmare. I am an educated woman with a post-graduate degree. I am an artist, one of those people who drive a significant portion of the economy. I happen to practice an alternative religion, think that the environment needs a hell of a lot more attention than it’s getting, and think that the long-term effects of policy are more important than short-term effects. I read policy (when platforms have actually been released) and make my own decisions, factoring in track records regarding how planned policy is carried out.

And I’m now registered to vote in my riding. Nice try, switching my husband’s riding but conveniently not switching mine. But I’m not taking it personally, even though it’s happened every single federal election since I’ve been married/earned that post-grad degree/stood up to be counted as someone practicing an alternative religion. I’m sure it was just an oversight.

You can be damn sure I’m not going to vote for someone who has repeatedly insulted my intelligence, that of the majority of my friends, and that of the entire country. And this isn’t limited to the current party in power.

Oh, Great

HRH lost my cellphone today between school and the metro station. He couldn’t find it. Someone else did, and used up four dollars worth of time between when I accessed my account online and when I cancelled the damn thing.

People suck.

HRH is buying me a new phone this weekend. I have little faith in someone handing mine in to a lost and found either at the school or the STM, even if it doesn’t work and has been reported as lost/stolen to the provider.

Odd

Liam was singing Ladysmith Black Mambazo’s ‘Homeless’ today in the car. I’m serious. He sang:

Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih
Somebody sing hello, hello, hello
Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih
Somebody cry why, why, why?

He’s heard it on Sarah McLachlan’s Rarities, B-Sides, and Other Stuff Vol 2 a few times (I only have Graceland on cassette, more’s the pity, and there is no tape player in the house). I was quite surprised to hear him do it, though, and do it so accurately. He’s also been doing excellent renditions of “The Rainbow Connection”, sometimes the original song Kermit sings in the swamp, sometimes the version at the end of The Muppet Movie (“that’s part of what rainbows do…”).

Speaking of the boy, I am off to collect him. First I have to drop that DVD off and buy a binder at the dollar store, though.