My desktop computer, Scoundrel, is under the weather. His harddrive took a nosedive a few days back, and it will be a bit before the scurvy lad is back up and dancing. In the meantime, I have my laptop. As nice and helpful as it is, it doesn’t have my Outlook files on it, so there’s a lot of reference info I can’t get at right now, and that means I can’t get my monthly Postcards From Industralia newsletter out. Also, the laptop isn’t mighty enough to run Second Life, so I’ll be missing my storytelling hour tonight (again). I won’t lose any data because we are careful about backups and redundancies, but it is an inconvenience.
For the foreseeable future, I’m on a slightly vintage (but great) laptop, supplemented by a quite vintage iPad and my wee Kindle Fire. Besides no access to Second Life, I have NO access to Facebook Messenger. None. Nada. Nix. Zip. That beast of a gadget bleeds these devices dry of power faster than a starving vampire. I don’t like Messenger at all, even on a good day, but right now my hatred for it is justified with non-access. Gmail is my friend and can be yours. Though I know most of the planet now thinks traditional email is as cool as Prodigy or CompuServe or hula hoops. Bah. Kids today.
I’m offsetting all this by indulging in a binge of the original Dark Shadows. Bad acting and horrific production values will make the day wonderful after all!
(for those tuning in late, we moved in late February, and have been doing a lot of landscaping and home decor work ever since. For the first time in my life, I have a room of my very own that is not a bedroom. It’s exciting!)
The GirlCave is coming along. Yesterday my chaise arrived! Of course, I have to share it with Chives.
I still have a lot of blank wall space, and a stack of plastic bins that need to be elsewhere but just haven’t been ‘elsed’ yet, so you don’t get full-room pics as it’s just not shareworthy yet. But here’s a few teasers. There were three plain wood shelves on the wall, attached with utilitarian metal supports and brackets. Looked awful, so I attacked them with LACE.
And the most important spot in the room, where the writing happens, is quite pleasant, especially on days like today when I can have one or both windows open.
William Henry Harrison gave the longest damn inaugural speech any president’s ever given, on March 4th, 1841. For an hour and forty five minutes a 68 year old guy shouted at a crowd IN THE MIDDLE OF A SNOWSTORM without wearing a hat, gloves or coat. After that, rather than getting some rest in the white house, he headed out to whoop it up at *multiple* parties.
His speech ended with “I have this day given to discharge all the high duties of my exalted station according to the best of my ability, and I shall enter upon their performance with entire confidence in the support of a just and generous people.”
What he actually managed to accomplish was to catch a cold, which turned into pneumonia and he died on April 4, 1841 exactly one month after taking the oath of office.
(This is historical entertainment. Rare for me to talk about government. Posting this does not mean I’m open to debate about current events. History sometimes lends perspective when faced with challenges.)
When I was in 6th grade, I thought it would be fun to ride my Flexy Racer down one of the steepest streets in my hilly suburb. It was great fun! I sat on the Flexy and steered with my feet and felt pretty damn bad-ass. But the street ended in a sharp curve to the right, and I couldn’t negotiate it with my feet. I couldn’t brake either, since my feet were controlling the combination steering AND braking pedals. I hit the curb really hard, flew off the Flyer, and landed in the gutter pretty much face-first. I scraped my face pretty badly and chipped my front tooth. It was the week of school photos, too.
Continue reading Smile? Okay!
I have three websites. One is a commercial site for chocolate and coffee, one is for promoting my books, and there’s this one – for whatever I damn well wish to write at any given moment. Still here? Buckle up, bumpy ride ahead.
This is going to be rather personal and probably a lot maudlin. Feel free to close the browser tab and I send no hard feelings if you do. By way of explanation, a younger relative of mine is on the cusp of one of life’s greatest adventures – waving farewell to the parents and getting her own apartment. This got me remembering my own rite of passage. Those days are burned into my brain with the red-hot poker of nostalgia.
That’s the weirdest sentence I’ve yet written, but I stand by it. I can still remember the smallest of details. How the cheap wood floorboards creaked. The slam of the trunk of a Yellow Cab. The annoying crackle of a single paint-splattered speaker I laughingly called my ‘stereo system’. The squeaks of an air mattress every time I moved in the night.
Continue reading Learning To Adult