| Cuz |
[22 Mar 2007|06:33pm] |
Re-reading The Dance of the Dissident Daughter.
I've recommended this to some women I know, ones who seem to be in a similar place to where I was when I read it.
But it occurred to me ... I should recommend it to men. Lots of men. Especially men who fancy themselves to be Christians.
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| I think I recognize this |
[13 Nov 2006|04:27pm] |
I'm having the worst time getting moving today. I really need to supervise the bandar log doing chores and schools, because they're just not moving, but neither am I. And I have 2500 words to write, none of which I feel like dealing with. I did not exactly leave things on Friday with an overwhelming sense of what comes next.
Every morning I feel as though I'm going to *have* to quit NaNo; some time in the afternoon, I start feeling like writing. Then I'm tense until I finish. I wish I could get started (with everything, not just NaNo) earlier in the day. Maybe I'd have more cheerful afternoons.
Anybody else out there working on a NaNo? How's it going? Mine's crap -- how's yours?
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| Refused to even pick up the telephone |
[07 Nov 2006|04:42pm] |
I'm running into an interesting problem with NaNoWriMo.
I remember from last year that I would be tense until I sat down and got started writing. It didn't really let up until I had that day's limit. It wasn't any big deal, just not the most pleasant feeling.
This year, I have the same thing going on, but it is threatening to agitate me. And I'm having trouble getting past the tension and getting started. The trouble is, if I don't get started because I'm too agitated to concentrate, I continue being agitated by the tension of not having the writing done.
Honestly. Of all the silly-assed situations to be in.
It's proving to be harder to be disciplined this year than it was last year, and I think it's the increased tension. I know what's causing it -- it's just the extra vulnerability, chemically speaking, from going off of one med and not yet being up to speed on the replacement. I should be fine in a couple of weeks, but the timing, as far as NaNoWriMo is concerned, could be a lot better.
At least I'm continuing with my commitment to working on the Opus as well as the new novel. Right now I'm putting together a "bible" so that I can stop committing the hideous continuity errors I've discovered I made in the manuscript so far.
I may pull the modem card out of my computer and put it in ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) smplmn's custody for the duration of November. That won't keep me off the house computer, of course, but it will encourage me to work when I have the laptop.
Maybe I will go out tomorrow afternoon and spend some time working at the coffee shop.
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| da Vinci's library -- November |
[06 Nov 2006|12:26pm] |
October was another slow month. I can't even claim that I was reading long works of deep importance.
Oh, and Kurt Vonnegut would be one sick pup if he wasn't so damned funny. It's a wonder he's never been crucified, since he has a bad habit of telling the bald truth, and of gross irreverence to cultural icons. I've just finished Hocus Pocus as part of my November reading, and when I wasn't laughing, I was writhing.
1. Interesting Times (Terry Pratchett)
2. Going Postal (Terry Pratchett)
3. God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian (Kurt Vonnegut)
4. Heartlight (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
5. Feet of Clay (Terry Pratchett)
6. Lords and Ladies (Terry Pratchett)
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| Mulling over the cider |
[31 Oct 2006|11:08pm] |
Didn't have any, actually. We currently own two two-quart saucepans, but no three-quart saucepans. There weren't any decent three-quart saucepans when we went to look, except for a "professional" saucepan that cost $75. I'll take two, thanks. Anyway, I didn't make a second batch of cider, and the first one went to the kids.
smplmn licked the wireless issue using the old wireless router, and returned the new wireless router, which was obviously defective, for a *new* new wireless router, which is currently in place and functioning just fine, thanks. So all is well with the house net.
This might not be such a good thing, really. I've spent most of my time the last few days overseeing the kids, knitting, and reading. And NaNoWriMo, Special Zanne Double-Disciplined Version (I'm going to do my daily word count for the new novel, then spend a timed thirty minutes on the old one,) starts tomorrow. And here I am, cruising all over the net now that I can. Truthfully, being limited to an hour or two, every day or two, might not be such a bad thing.
Bigglest is now involved in yet another concert, involving three extra rehearsals. Any more special rehearsals and we're going to rent a cot in the church where the choir rehearses.
Now I need to go to bed, another area where I should work on being sensible. Tired Zannes are agitated Zannes. Not to mention the fact that agitation is tired, so agitated Zannes are tired Zannes. Either way, bed seems to be indicated. And yes, the agitation backed off yesterday when I took the med, and seems to have retired to its corner for now.
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| To thirty-six, then sixty-four, and then I'd have done seventy-three ... |
[26 Oct 2006|09:27pm] |
I've been thinking quite a bit recently about things like evil and good, and about the ability of human beings to understand each other.
I haven't come to any particularly enlightening conclusions, except that humans are naturally cantankerous. I'd like to hear a biologist explain that one away as a survival trait. (Since I've heard quite a few things that are, I'm sorry, simply bad behavior explained that way.) Man is inclined to trouble, and all that.
I've also come to the conclusion that my youthful certainty that, "If we would all just sit down and talk to one another and get to know one another, there would be peace," is really, really way off. I've finally lived long enough to have had some reasonable discussion with people who have ideas that differ very widely from mine, and it wasn't a matter of misunderstanding one another. It was a matter of just plain not having the same reference points at all. In one case, I explained what a certain set of facts meant to me (it was a parenting issue) and the person I was discussing with agreed with me 100% on the facts. But their worldview meant that they interpreted those facts in a way that made their opinion one hundred and eighty degrees away from mine. Discussion didn't matter; I might as well have tried to persuade them that the world is a watermelon as change their mind about how they perceived the facts we were discussing.
I think this has a lot to do with the way the Left and Right, both political and religious, perceive each other. We simply can't imagine how the other side can possibly believe what they believe given the simple facts of the matter. Not that there isn't an awful lot of spinning going on -- I don't know how anyone in Washington, D.C. can walk a straight line from the sheer dizziness -- but even when you get right down to the bedrock of facts, there are different groups speaking, basically, entirely different languages.
There's a pretty good book on this subject, whose title completely escapes me, naturally. But I got my eyes opened by a conservative Christian friend who just, plainly, disagreed with me about how we raised our children. And we must both have been doing something right, because we both had pretty good kids ... This kind of thing makes me wonder how much of what we think is causal isn't any such thing, too.
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| All together shout it now |
[26 Oct 2006|05:11pm] |
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I am feeling an overwhelming urge to slap someone. However, there is absolutely no chance that I'll have the opportunity. So I'll just feel frustrated for a while, and then I'll get over it.
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| Cuke Skywalker |
[23 Oct 2006|05:17pm] |
No cable for a week. Nothing but computer, videotapes, and DVDs. I'll be interested to see how the bandar log survive. I probably won't even notice unless one of them says something.
We sat down before smplmn left and discussed Hallowe'en costumes. I think that nobody is getting anything like the elaborate costumes they envisioned earlier, but everybody is getting something. Gotta buy some dowels and safety pins, and we'll be good to go. Imagination (and greed) is everything on Hallowe'en. And the plans for the Hallowe'en party are safely put off until the next weekend, when smplmn will be back from various parts, known and unknown.
It looks as though Mondays might be taking shape. I drop off Middlest at her job (mother's helper) at three. She watches two little ones while their mother works on her home-based business. Every other week, I drop Bigglest off right after that at the library, which is practically next door, so that he can do his volunteer hours. This week was actually supposed to be an off-week, but the volunteer coordinator called and said he could come in and help her stamp discards if he wanted to. Of course he wanted to. Came home with a Star Wars book and a book on Patton, too -- history for free! Spend some time at the library with Littlest, maybe get a little coffee, then go back and pick up Middlest at 4:30 so that I can take her to skating. Drop her off, pausing long enough to help her into her skates -- I'm guessing that she's probably capable of learning to lace her own skates, but I'm willing to be a sucker on this one -- and then go pick up Bigglest from the library around 5:00. Goof off at home for twenty minutes and go back to the ice rink, arriving just in time to watch the tag end of Middlest's class. Come home and have dinner.
Basically, perfectly relaxed and nicely scheduled. Maybe we'll occasionally schedule pizza for Mondays, because I can call in the order just as we're leaving to pick up Middlest and pick it up on the way home. And everybody gets to do everything they want, including Littlest, who gets spoiled by some one-on-one with Mama.
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| Stomach rumblings |
[22 Oct 2006|08:40pm] |
Whoa. Two days of family and friends and I am toasted. I wish smplmn wasn't leaving tomorrow. Ah, well, such is life. I'll survive, and we have enough pre-made dinners and fresh veggies that I won't be scrambling around trying to feed the kids.
The new freezer came in last week, and we duly transferred the few items that were still in the old freezers, and then the delivery guys -- a nice bunch -- took it away.
Then we put some new stuff in it. It had been on for more than twenty-four hours, so it should have been good and cold. And we could hear the compressor running.
Except that the new stuff didn't freeze. And the old stuff was beginning to thaw.
Oh, shit.
So we called the appliance people, who apologized profusely and who promised to order a new unit immediately and to bring it out as soon as it arrives. The man smplmn talked to had a few choice words to say about the state of the appliance industry -- apparently they end up replacing a substantial portion of the appliances they install, because the buggers just don't work. His comment was that someday we will go to war with a very small country, and we will lose if they know how to make things that work. I've heard enough commentary from folks in the military to think he might be right.
Fortunately, the items we had in the big freezer were able to squeeze into the small freezer after some reorganization, so we didn't lose anything. But we are very grateful that we haven't been called to pick up the year's meat yet. That would have been an expensive investment gone sour.
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| Walks like a meme, quacks like a meme |
[19 Oct 2006|02:36pm] |
And I don't know what else you'd call it. Basically, it says that if you believe in gay rights (LBGT, anyone?) on livejournal, you should repost it on your journal; if you don't believe in gay rights, ignore it.
In other words, post this on your journal or I'll think you're a homophobic jerk. No. Actually, we'll all know you're a homophobic jerk.
I don't take well to people attempting to force my support on a subject, even, or perhaps especially, if I agree with them.
Once someone puts it in those terms, anything I post in my journal becomes, in my eyes, invalid, because there's no way to know if I actually believe what I'm writing or if I'm just trying to look good to someone else.
Besides, if I'm going to write in support of LBGT rights, I'd do better to write my state and national reps and senators, urging them to pass, you know, *laws* that might, you know, actually do something about it. Or I could demonstrate. Or I could volunteer to do AIDS hospice. (Not a strictly LBGT issue, obviously.) Or any one of a number of things, all of which would be more helpful than posting something in my journal just because someone tells me to.
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| What's he got that I ain't got? |
[13 Oct 2006|02:20pm] |
Well, Mr. Minor Medical Mishap (2005, 2006) has done it again.
Last night he got tossed over the horizon at judo. He's not the best uke (literal translation, "floater," rough translation, "partner," in other words, "person who gracefully takes the fall in order to help her partner to learn the throw") in the world, and he managed to take the fall badly. Instead of doing a side fall, somehow he caught himself with his left hand, bending the fingers back. The doctor thinks he's just sprained it, but wants us to get the hand x-rayed just in case.
*sigh*
Does it count as a Minor Medical Mishap if we don't have to take him through the emergency room?
He and Middlest are meeting a family that they may be doing mother's helpering for today. Bigglest is short a hand and has a mouthful of novocaine from having a couple of fillings earlier this afternoon. Hopefully by then he'll be able to talk more clearly. Some impression he's going to make.
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| When my soul in awesome wonder |
[12 Oct 2006|08:20pm] |
Excuse me for linking to Wikipedia twice, but a woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do.
While you're lighting a candle for Matthew Shepard, you might think about the sad fact that, while it sure didn't do Matthew Shepard any good to be gay, at least there was an outcry about his death.
But if you aren't white and male, it doesn't matter so much that someone hates you enough to murder you.
So you might take a moment to remember Sakia Gunn while you're at it. Same orientation, same crime ... very little outcry, except from the LBGT community in Newark. Personally, I'm guessing that the stones in New Jersey are beginning to consider whether they might have something to say on the subject, as well.
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| There's no one who can doubt it now |
[11 Oct 2006|04:59pm] |
I almost forgot. This year, for our birthdays (smplmn's and mine,) my mother helped the bandar log to bake cupcakes.
Last year we worked harder to birthdays while we were East, because of the trip being so unexpected and because it was so hard having smplmn's mother in the hospital that we were looking for any excuse. But this year I wasn't expecting anything, because our birthdays aren't until this weekend.
Saturday night my mother had the children to herself in order to carry out her nefarious plans. Baking happened while smplmn and I were innocently watching Model Man's sister get hitched. Sunday night we each got a chocolate-chocolate chip cupcake (the sine qua non of my growing years) with a candle in it.
A re-lighting candle. You know, one of those ones that you can't blow out?
smplmn was a good sport, and blew his out a few times before extinguishing it with water. I, on the other hand, determinedly blew and blew and blew, much to the bandar log's amusement, until I actually got the critter to go out. I'm stubborn.
And everyone sang, "Happy Birthday." It's not official yet, but everyone congratulate me -- I'm thirty-nine. For real, too, not a "thirty-nine over again"!
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| He was quoted before this season ever began |
[02 Oct 2006|08:03pm] |
It's Monday night. Eagles v. Green Bay on ESPN. The camera cuts to a view of Philadelphia City Hall. The camera pans around the tower of City Hall. ESPN announcer: "Ben Franklin, overlooking the city of Philadelphia ..." Cut back to the game.
I hope those guys know football better than they know history. That's William Penn up there, morons. If you want Ben Franklin, try the lobby of the Franklin Institute, instead.
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| It's the best I could do for hedgehogs |
[02 Oct 2006|06:14pm] |
I had to get out of bed promptly this morning, since the electrician was scheduled to come romping through the living room in which I was sleeping at approximately eight. I rose slowly to a state of semi-consciousness and then relocated to my parent's generously offered bed in order to hallucinate dream. Very weird dream, but then, aren't they all? The fire-eaters were interesting, especially in conjunction with the midwives. How very amusing to interpret.
We were supposed to go across the bridge to New Jersey and spend some time with Model Man's parents, but got a call at the last minute saying that his mother was not feeling well enough for visitors. I'm guessing they finally broke out the oxygen today. I am sincerely hoping that this is just over-tiredness from all the wedding hoopla; I don't want to have to come East for a funeral any time soon. Not for Barbara.
In the absence of anything concrete to do, we took Middlest and Littlest (Bigglest spent the day with smplmn's parents) to one of our favorite local playgrounds. The place was built as a memorial to a single mother and her daughter who were kidnapped and brutally killed; in response to the horror the community pulled together and erected one of the loveliest playgrounds I've ever been in. And the slides are killer. Because of the holiday the place was just crawling, too, which is the way it should be.
smplmn and the Penguin packed up after we got home and headed into the city -- Monday Night Football with the Eagles. They went in early to see the ESPN broadcast. They won't be back until whenever. My parents are out at rehearsals and meetings, and Middlest and Littlest are knee-deep in the modeling clay which my mother has thoughtfully provided. I'm knitting, having finally finished winding skein no. 7 into a ball. Three more to go, as I hit those colors in the sleeves.
I'm reading Lakota Woman, by Mary Crow Dog. It's an autobiography, and even though I shouldn't, shouldn't, should not be surprised, I'm having to take it in small doses because it's pretty shattering. Something about involuntary sterilizations, for one thing, hits me right where I live, no matter how many times I hear it or how deeply I understand that this is the simple truth. And that's not the half of it.
History. When my American History class studied the sixties, we didn't hear much about African-Americans except for the civil rights movement. Ignore Black Power, please. But we didn't hear *anything* about the American Indian Movement, or Red Power. This is not new to me, either -- these days I'm on the watch to learn things that were left out of my history classes because they were inconvenient. But it does make me angry.
I have a question for myself, these days. I'm angry, I'm guilty (not a particularly helpful emotion, really.) Soooo ... watcha gonna do about it? Thinking ...
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| Lost in church |
[01 Oct 2006|02:55pm] |
Well, we have Model Man's sister H all married off. Lovely couple, fun wedding. I was amused that after announcing that the happy couple would be married, "In the name of Jesus Christ," the officiant then referred exclusively to the "Great Spirit" in the rest of the ceremony. I guess I don't think of the same thing when I think of the word "ecumenical." I also wished she'd picked some other name besides "Great Spirit." I'm sure she'd be disappointed to hear it, but that one's already taken by another religion, and I don't remember seeing news of a merger.
The evening was dimmed by the rather shattering news that the bride's mother is severely ill with lung cancer. Model Man didn't tell us, because he doesn't handle strong emotion well, but a month ago they were all gathered around her hospital bed hoping that they would be celebrating a wedding and not a funeral. She looked wonderful at the wedding, and had spent the whole five days they'd been in Philadelphia without needing her oxygen once, so we're hopeful. But her husband certainly has a haunted look.
This morning, smplmn went out to spend time with his parents and eventually bring them to my parents' house, while I packed up the bandar log and went to church with my mother.
In case you're wondering, it wasn't my idea. Mostly I went because I knew it was the best way for the kids to see Penguin's mother and sister, their Grandma B and Aunt Crackalyn-Pop, not to mention Crackalyn-Pop's baby girl, Nai-Nai. And I didn't want to stick my mother with the job; she sings in the choir and can't take responsibility for the kids during church. ( Read more... )
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| Gonna sit right down and write myself a letter |
[27 Sep 2006|09:52pm] |
I'm thinking that tonight's session wasn't very productive. I sat down and my traitorous intestines immediately said, "Bubble." Then they said, "Bubble." After that they said, "Bubble-bubble-bubble." You may see a pattern forming here.
It is very hard to concentrate on therapy when you are concentrating on not letting out an absolutely huge, mind-blowing fart.
On the other hand, my therapist said something he's said before, and I'm starting to sit up and take notice. I'm a bright person. Bright as in intelligent.
Between my father and my teachers, I learned growing up that it was terribly important to be smart. What I didn't learn, because the people around me were so careful not to do it, was to give myself credit for being smart. I didn't get scolded for my grades, ever. (The only thing that was ever done about a poor grade, in first-year German, was that my mother sat down with me and taught me how to study -- intelligent woman. Thanks, Mom.) But I also never, never, *ever* got told that I had done a good job.
This left me completely puzzled. ( Read more... )
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| Dougie |
[27 Sep 2006|06:53pm] |
The middle of my back aches. Right below where the wings attach, know where I mean? We're getting ready to go, and things are going well, but I have an appointment tonight which means two hours out of the house, hours which I could spend improving the edges (which are very messy) and relaxing with the bandar log.
Anyway, the car is packed, except for the stuff that goes in the cooler tomorrow. The house is not clean, but it's cleaner, and most of the stuff that could go bad and stink is dealt with. The petsitter (thank goodness for the Girlfriend) is informed.
I have this feeling that I've forgotten to pack something for myself, but my meds are definitely in there, so anything else can be replaced if necessary.
We went to the bookstore and picked up some books, mostly so that Littlest will have something within her reading level but a little more interesting. I got a copy of, I think, Lakota Woman, and I have made a note to myself to spend at least a little time reading each evening, for the sake of my sanity. Unfortunately, at this time there is no bedroom for smplmn and me at my parents' house, so we're sleeping in the living room, which means it's hard for me to escape early without displacing everyone who is busy being fascinated by the television. It's also hard for me to get any time alone with smplmn. I don't demand vast quanitities, but it's good for me to be able to release some tension by talking to him.
Note to self: when you come back from vacation, pick up The Annotated Alice again. I started it when stephe gave it to us last Christmas, but got distracted; I need the kind of screwy humor it contains, and since I don't yet have a copy of Amphigorey, Too, Alice should be just the thing.
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| And the three men I admire the most, the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost |
[27 Sep 2006|11:58am] |
What can I say? I'm a traditionalist. I believe that the apples should be peeled before they go into the pie.
I have converted the children to this position, but like all unbelievers, they had to try it out for themselves, first.
In some areas, however, I'm just simply picky. I believe that the produce stickers should be taken off the apples, too.
Today's lesson for your active homeschooler is, When someone tells you to do a chore, you actually do it. You do not read. You do not disappear to your room to play with clay. You do not turn on a book on tape and veg. You do not drift off and look vaguely at the ceiling. You do the job. Theoretically, you do the job the first time you're told, too, although this is admittedly advanced work. Apparently this is a complicated concept, as a result of which I'm going to have achy legs at the end of the day. That's going to be from climbing up on their backs like an elephant's mahout and riding them all the way to the ends of their chores. Anybody got a cattle prod? Giddyap!
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| Play hard, play fair, have fun |
[26 Sep 2006|10:30pm] |
I was just checking out the site of someone I used to be acquainted with on-line. She's a Christian. I stopped following her site because she took it down for a while, and she stopped coming over here right around the time that I started admitting that my faith was crumbling and that I was angry.
Today I checked, out of curiosity, to see if her site is back up. It is. And it had a piece that really made me sad. She was talking about a church she'd seen that had, "Come on over to my house before the game. -- God" on one side, and, "Come on over to my house. Bring the ribs. -- God" on the other.
She was terribly upset. Didn't the people at that church understand that they needed to look at the pleasures of heaven, not the pleasures of the flesh? And then she asked if people really "play" with God that way, and was upset that they might take their relationship with God so lightly.
I don't know about you, but I played with my father when I was a child, and I play with him now. I played with my mother, and we play now. Part of the parent/child relationship is play, even when the child is an adult. (Or at least it should be. It might be any kind of play -- in my family it's verbal play -- but it should be there.)
How sad to see God only as a stern parent, and not one who might be playful. Have you ever read The Color Purple? I like when Shug says that anyone can see that It (god/dess) loves us and wants to be loved back. How can you tell? Because it's always trying to do stuff that pleases us. It invented the color purple, dancing trees, and sex. (And possibly smplmn and I have to say, only a god/dess with a sense of humor could have pulled that one off, although Shug doesn't say so.)
That does not sound like a god/dess who wants their people to be solemn, or to experience only high-flown, "spiritual" pleasures.
One of the things that flipped me out of the church like a water drop in an oily pan was the fact that I was beginning to suspect that the whole denial of the pleasures of the flesh thing was bullshit.
I didn't jump off the other side of the bridge and decide that pure indulgence was the way to go. Even in my state of flaming apostasy, I'm not interested in simply tipping the seesaw to the other side.
But there is one thing I know. If there is no divine (and maybe there isn't,) it's still a good thing to invest in the pleasures of the soul, and there is no requirement to be ascetic about the pleasures of the body. (Ain't a problem if you're drawn to it -- different people balance different ways.) (Don't argue with me about the fact that with no divine there is no soul. Says who?) If there is a divine, if it's a divine with any sense, it wants us to enjoy *all* of the world, not just one straitened part of it.
Funniest part? As usual with Christians who are trying to draw straight lines around their own and other's souls, it isn't even Biblical. David danced before the Lord, Jesus turned water into wine for a wedding, and anyone who wants to tell me that Song of Songs is strictly a poem of spiritual love is extremely naive.
And it's just sad. Mama and Daddy want to play, and Junior thinks he's too grown up.
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