I have a new dentist.

His hand trembles when he brings the novacaine, and drops of it splash on my tongue before he stabs it home.

He talks about Stephen Hawking with his DA while I have my mouth full of hands, and cannot participate.

I also have an ugly, lumpy, but passable temporary crown of indeterminate cost where my tooth used to be.

The novacaine is wearing off now.

Ow.

Happily, dodging_fate has agreed to stand in for me at Java's Tarot Night tonight, so I can take advil, eat pudding, and contemplate the misery of pain for awhile instead of trying to focus on other people's problems, and the solutions thereunto. This is a good thing -- not just for me and the headache that's currently developing/enveloping the side of my head, but for the poor people who'll be laying out their money and hoping for coherent information. I could have used the money (especially when this bill comes due,) but not if I haven't earned it.

There are just under SIX HOURS left in which to snipe bids on the stuff you gotta have, make your friends and fanmates wail and gnash their teeth and bemoan their innatention at having lost out, and to wring your bank account until it squeals like a junior high school girl at a Panic! At The Disco concert.

There are a metric arseload of really incredibly coolacious things on offer up there, and because I am Slytherin, after all, I will now take this opportunity to point once again at my own offering of a real-media fan portrait of the winner's choosing. Just, y'know, in case anyone else out there was considering chiming in at the last minute.

Remember the cause! Avaunt, y'all!
*Runs off to drool over teh goodies, and await final bid announcements...*

* 10. More wacky Middle East vs American Empire spear rattling.

* Alive and well for Great American Depression volume two; the burning years.

* Aid workers being used for skeet in Somalia.

* 12 Nigerians trampled to death... trying to get a job. Which is still significantly sadder than being trampled to death for football in Sudan.

* Oh yeah, that Afghani war is totally over, leik whoa... The President said so, so we know it must be true.

* China would like to further endorse and legalize elephant slaughter please.

* What is Spain's answer to people so desperate to get away from their own country that they would risk very high odds of death in a sea voyage crowded onto a ricketty boat? A lottery. For jobs. Yeah.

* Some fuckwit outed Banksy. Or tried to, anyway.

* John McCain apparently can't use the internets by himself. He makes his aides or his wife get him online to do his newspaper reading. Which, I suppose, is slightly better than Bush, who didn't bother reading anything, because he had aides to give him the highlights of stuff.

---

I rely upon you all to find me stories that will help me recover a bit of sympathetic feeling for the dominant simians of this planet, because right now... well, I got nothin.

Dear Sir.

It would be disingenuous of me to offer congratulations on your taking office just now, as the circumstances of your predecesor's leaving it cannot be anything but awkward for all concerned. Still, you seem, from this albeit hastily taken measure, to be a decent sort of chap, and I like to believe you're a promising Governor for us to have.

Still, I hope you won't take it amiss if I offer a few humble suggestions to you as your term of service begins.

First, if you must screw around outside your marriage, please, please, please, for the sake of us all, just get a mistress! One who sleeps with you because she enjoys it, not because she's paid to do. Not that I personally have any real problem with the Oldest Profession, but it is really, truly tedious to have all this sham morality bannered about in every headline of every paper, and on every news channel, and every comic's monologue. Seriously. Mistresses are just safer for everyone.

Second, if there's some reason why your particular kink demands that you pay for a prostitute in order to get your jollies, for the love of all that's holy, GO TO LAS VEGAS FOR YOUR BOOTY CALLS! Or Amsterdam! Or anywhere it's actually legal! That way we only have to listen to the ethical bitching and moaning, and not the legal spins as well. At very least, don't bring your wrist biscuit accross state lines, and therefore turn a misdemeanor into a Federal crime!

Third, and most important, kindly refrain from playing shell games with huge amounts of money, and setting off the watchdog agencies that operate at Federal banking levels. ESPECIALLY if you were instrumental in not only designing those checks, but in forcing through legislation to get them in place. Your predecessor was a prosecutor who made his money, his reputation, and his carreer on prosecuting money laundering, and prostitution. His actions in getting trapped with his -- erm... shall we say 'hand in the cookie jar', for the sake of decency? -- was not only a disgusting show of Hypocrisy, it was a demonstration of rank stupidity as well.

Your taking office under such unpleasant auspices needn't reflect badly on your own promise as Steward of our fair State, not the least reason being the unique qualifications offered by your being only the third black Governor in the US, and the first who is legally blind as well -- perspectives which bid fair to bring a welcome change in the deeply worn habitual ruts that haunt the political roadways these days. I personally am excited to have you in office, and I hope you will bring a breath of fresh air with you. So long as you comport your personal entertainments with more delicacy and care than did your predecessor, I feel reasonably sure that your chances of success are great.

Good luck, sir!
Sincerely, and with pro-active benefit of doubt,
me.

( The trials and tribulations of dress form creation... )

In other news, Godric is especially gravity-challenged today. He's fallen off the desk twice, and the last time, he pulled the napping pad off onto his head after him.

It's a good thing his dumb comes with a lot of cute.

Yesterday was exactly what I needed, on many levels.

First, there was companionship, which is always a really good foil against dementors. rikibeth came down on a mission of mercy bringing lovely energy to help dispell the gloom while she helped Dominus and I excavate the basement work area.

Second, there was work to be done. Physical labour, with a concrete goal in mind, and visible results from all the effort we were putting in. We cleared out boxes of stuff which had moved from attic to garage to basement to basement untouched since we'd left Texas. We disposed of gallons of stale and simply awful paint, left by the Ortizes when they moved out, we tore down rotting, beetle infested wooden shelves that were so sloped and fragile they didn't touch the floor in places. We sorted, chopped, folded, bagged, tagged, and otherwise excavated, until suddenly we found ourselves with a decent workspace, stable, level, sturdy shelving for all of Dominus' power tools, order in the chaos of painging and repair supplies, and seven contractor bags (and then some,) full of crap to dispose of once we can get a dumpster in here this spring.

Hard not to feel good about THAT kind of a well earned endorphin high.

Third, there was comfort food all day long. Hamsamidges with avocado and sprouts, anise and almond biscotti, Pump Station burgers for dinner, with stout so thick and opaque it looked like it had come out the bottom of an impala's oil pan, and tasted like smooth, bitter heaven. Then this morning, we had Greek yogurt with figs, walnuts, and buckwheat honey, and rikibeth's lemon poppyseed bread, lemons supplied by my own wee tree. Om nom nom, y'all!

And Fourth, there was gothing. It was a Black Valentine theme, and unfortunately, I couldn't lay my hands on the Red Rubber Ballgown easily, so I pulled a little stretchy, plaidy, safety-pinney minidress out of the closet, went for red knee socks, mary-janes, and braids. Yeah, I know, but at least I picked up the theme with a big red heart painted over my right eye. And to judge by the boys, the effect was gratifying. aquila_dominus wore his Ming the Merciless coat to great acclaim, and rikibeth treated a demure little vintage cocktail dress to a goth makeover, with a scarlet crinoline, waist cincher, stompy boots, and resin dreads. Muy hot, the three of us.

The music was good, the dancers were fun and energetic, and strangely, everyone was outgoing and friendly -- a bit of a shock in the closed, clannish North. They were even friendlier than The Church regulars are (which isn't saying much, really, but still!) The one drawback was the unavoidable diveyness of Valentines. It's just not ever going to go away, really. Valentines was a dive with lounge tables when we had BurlyQ there, and it's a dive with lots of black latex when the Goth night's there, and it's a dive with lots of metal studs and plaid when they get punk bands playing in there. Part of its charm, I guess. Still, Goth is better than no Goth, and I'll stick to that statement.

I also got the DJ's e mail address, so I could induct her into the Cult of Shriekback. That's right; I requested "Shriekback -- NOT NEMESIS!" and she'd nothing else to offer. Sad, I know. Still, she was very open to me sending her alternatives, of which I approve.

So now, rikibeth's headed home in hopes of beating the storm, aquila_dominus is ears deep in City of Heroes' double experience weekend, and will probably be ensconced in the sofa with the laptop for the rest of the day, leaving me to read fic, listen to music, and watch the snowstorm whipping about outside.

And that's okay, really.

"This is a petition for non-binary sexes and genders to be recognised by the government

This is not my petition, nor of direct interest to me, but I thoroughly endorse it.

If you live in the UK, please go sign..

http://petitions.pm.gov.uk/3rdGender/ "

I saw this post on Roz Kaveney's blog, and though I am not a UK resident, and therefore not eligible to add my name to the list, I still feel the goal is worthy enough to warrant what push I can give it. The world is making steps toward sexual integration now, and every country that can be convinced to recognize that valuable people come in more than two flavours makes for a little bit more momentum along the way.

That worked like a charm.

Thanks to everyone who replied! The storm of replies worked a treat to boost my mood out of the proto-crabbiness it was circling earlier this evening.
Big hugs to you all!
C

YOU'RE ON MY FRIENDS LIST, I want to know 36 things about you. I don't care if we never talk, or if we already know everything about each other. Short and sweet is fine... You're on my list, so I want to know you better! And what's more, I'm feeling a bit isolated and estranged after con and traveling, and I'd really like a mailbox full of fluff for a day or two. So if you've time and inclination, click below, and fill 'er out.

BE HONEST! COPY FROM HERE THEN SEND DIRECTLY TO ME IN A COMMENT THEN, REPOST THE EMPTY QUESTIONS. if you want to, repost the empty questions in your own blog. If you don't want to, then by all means ignore the suggestion, as it probably means you have better things to use the time and brainpower on.

( Things that make you go 'hmmmm...'  )

Mercury turns retrograte today. This means that (in broadly general terms,) interpersonal communications will be Fraught With Danger, it will be easy to lose things, and to injure yourself accidentally, and communications equipment will begin to develop mysterious epileptic and psychotic tendencies. Misunderstandings, especially on topics that involve the kinds of things people crusade over, are going to be devilishly hard to avoid.

In specific, Mercury is turning retrograde in Aquarius, so now is a good time to avoid hot button discussions. Especially on the internet. Because, let's face it, you're already handicapped here, given that readers cannot hear the tone of your voice, or see your body language.

So. Happily, Mercury moves fast, and it turns direct again by February 18. So hopefully that'll be before anybody has to replace anything TOO expensive in the phone/computer department.

Hang tough, y'all, and keep cool, eh?

* Great Peanut, how lovely to be home this weekend! Much as I loved the places we went, I have to admit to a thoroughgoing weariness with the process of traveling! Now, though, the suitcases are unpacked, the house more or less recovered from chaos, and beginning to feel enough like home that she's starting to talk about what she wants done next. I love that about old houses... If only they wanted cheaper things...

* Godric, in our absence, has turned into something of a brat. This is wholly surprising for my wee ickle omegacat, but it definitely seems to be so. He's gotten grabby and swatty with Dominus and I, reaching out for anything we should happen to pick up within his reach, jumping up to knock things off tables and countertops, swatting when he gets pettings instead of a treat, and so on. I think this might be the delayed reaction Rite of Shunning. Either that, or the catsitter spoiled him a lot while we were in NZ. This is not unlikely, as Godric is EVERYONE'S favorite, and it's easy to spoil him shamelessly.

* NZ travelogue proceeds apace. My journal entries are transcribed, and Dominus is working on editing down the pictures with the tiny amount of free time work is allowing him. But we haven't forgot that we promised proof.

* I hate Sendspace. I hate the epileptic jolting of their popup spam, I hate their arbitrary waiting period wherein they try to aggravate you into buying an account, I hate the insulting tenor of the adds they display. I hate sendspace so much that I won't even click a link that leads there, no matter how much I want to check out the download. THAT'S how much I hate Sendspace.

* Thanks to the brain-nudge of my Wenchsistah, I am working on a 'self-esteem/feel good' mix disk. I'm missing a few tracks though, so don't nobody hold their breaths, ok?

* I made my first ever entirely original baking recipe this week. It completely didn't suck, either! I've not posted the results yet because it's not perfect yet. I've adjusted the salt levels, and tweaked some ingredients, but I need to finish eating the first batch before I can try the recipe again. I'm still damned proud of myself though.

* There's a restaurant in Troy called Lo Porto. Go there. It handily trumps every other Italian restaurant I've ever been to in my life. I've been racking my brain to find something I didn't like about the meal, and I can't do it. Even the basic, undressed pasta served alongside the entree was amazingly tasty. So much so that for the first time, I took noodles in red sauce home with me for later. And the desserts... oh, my. I have a new favorite, it seems. Not out of the range of, say, Romano's Macaroni Grill for pricing, either.

* Dominus and I did the Troy Night Out last night, wandering around River Street and the Triangle, and poking our noses into all the nifty little shops and galleries to which he usually doesn't get to go, given that they normally close before he's out of work. I really do love River Street, and I hope it stays the domain of funky little resale and antique shops, instead of turning into a row of high dollar condominiums. I think Troy Night Out just might help it do that, really. It's the last Friday night of each month, in case anybody else local is curious.

* And now, Dominus is Waiting at me. So I'd better wrap this up.

Ciao, minnasan!

Because nothing backlights procrastination like writing about writing instead of writing, after all! *Cheeky grin!*
( tl;dr )
And so that's that. In other news, I am reading Storm Constantine's Thin Air today. As usual, I am in utter and complete raptures about her prose. I love the way she turns conjugation on its ear without a wobble, creating something at once new to the ear, and impeccably familiarly right to the memory. "His hectic fringe falling over his forehead," "Empty fields stared away toward the horizon," Pearls! Pearls, I tell you!

Here's a taste that just made me catch my breath and stop to read it over.
Jay was no more superstitious than the average woman. She read her stars in the paper, and partly believed in them, when they presaged good news. She touched wood on occasion, and had a crawly-spine dislike of the dark in old houses, which she supposed was derived from occasions in her childhood, when she'd been parked at the abodes of elderly relatives by her parents, so that they were free to enjoy themselves at weekends. Both sets of grandparents had owned creaking, watchful dwellings, where grandmothers had writhed in their beds of birth, and their own mothers had decayed into gibbering strangeness and died.

I love old houses, but that description gives me a little shiver.
But now, all this writing online is keeping me from finishing the book, so away I go.
Avaunt, y'all!

The reason I care -- aside from basic human compassion, and respect for a talented thespian, that is, -- that Heath Ledger is gone from the boards forever:

I saw him on Oprah once after Brokeback Mountain came out. He and Jake Gyllenhaal were on the set together, and Oprah was asking her trademark leading questions about whether somehow the characters they'd played hadn't been committing a deeper betrayal because they were cheating on their wives with another man. Jake was being charmingly, and willfully obtuse, and refusing to acknowledge the drift she couldn't have piled higher with an industrial grade snow plow, but you know our Oprah; she just couldn't let it go.

She kept on rephrasing the question, to essentially get them to say yes, it's worse to cheat on your spouse with your own sex than with the opposite. Eventually, Heath, who had been stewing rather quietly, leaned forward, braced his elbows on his knees, and locked eyes with the Hostess to ask: "And why should gender make any difference at all?"

That right there is why I care that the man, himself, is no longer with us. The roles he brought to life, the photos he stood for, his boyish grin, his roguish eye, they're all saved on cellulose and encoded in bits and bytes all over the globe, but the man who spoke, and meant those words on national TV? The one who had the courage to take that role in the first place, without fretting that he might be stereotyped? The one who truly acted in support, though it affected his personal life not that much at all?

He's the one I'm going to really miss.

* *Blinkblink* Erm. That's the Giants going to the Superbowl then, isn't it? Against the Patriots. Ayyyyep. New England is going to cannibalize itself before this is all over, methinks.

* Demophobia; not quite. I have developed an unusual crowd... let's not say fear, because it's not really that, but let's call it a ... hostility in recent years, which I cannot quite account for. I never used to be that way -- after all, my yearly house party stuffed my home to the walls, and I used to frequent the press of flesh at renfaires and conventions without any particular stress at all. But somewhere in the last six years, essentially since I moved to New York, I have far less patience with, and endurance for crowded, noisy, chaotic places than I ever used to have. I can't quite account for it, except that, when I left Texas, I suddenly found myself with nobody to talk to face to face for around two or three years. I also had neither reason, nor opportunity to go to crowded places, aside from Wal Mart, with which I have never had any patience anyhow. So now... I know I'm susceptible to depression issues that go along with my isolation and loneliness, but I also seem to have a firm threshold for many-person environments like faires and conventions. And it seems to be about three days.

* The above is why Dominus and I came home early today, rather than staying for my last panel, Ripping Off History For Fun and Profit. This is a shame, because one of the other panelists was the GoH, whom I would have enjoyed engaging in debate. But I just couldn't make myself stay in the overcrowded, echoing din of a hotel any longer. Methinks this is something on which I shall definitely have to work as I move forward into the career I hope to have. Yesh.

* I bought SmartBalls. They rock. Oh, yes. (Google them yourself, if you really need that explained...)

* Dominus and I agree that we both enjoy conventions much more when we can participate in the panels. I think it's the structure we like, oddly enough. And too, being on the panels works nicely as an ice breaker for other semi-sane people, who wouldn't normally open up to strangers.

* What a joy and a delight to find the perfect antibody for the ever present discussion of presidential election politics (at the right side of the room, ironically enough,) to be GLBT politics, at the left end of the room! Every time the conversation would lull a bit, we'd bring up a different subject: radio plays, (led back to GLBT,) religious upbringing and recovery therefrom, (led back to GLBT,) history, (led back to GLBT,) and book collections, (led back to GLBT, of course!) It was like steering a flying whale while wearing Slash Goggles. If that makes any sense... no? Ah well. Guess you had to be there.

* I got home to find my snakes in place, my cats acting guilty, and the scattered remains of something crumbly and orange all over the upstairs hall rug. Upon closer inspection, the cats managed to somehow get hold of a gel cap of b vitamin, get it open, and grind it in. Do not ask me how. Nor what became of the gel cap, because that hasn't turned up yet. Cats are weird.

* The dream faeries also helped me sort out the missing element that was holding back the outline development of the last quarter of Tempus Fugitive. A large, mellow, gay black saxophone player from Chicago, named Ray Norton. I learnt this on the three hour drive home, when Dominus let me use him as a sounding board, and depth sounder for the new lie of plot-terrain. Ray fits nicely, corrects a couple of weak plot joists, and he adds a really nice groove to the story as a whole. Yes, actually, I did intend that pun, because Ray is like that. Uncle Ray will be a great addition, methinks.

* And with that, I believe I have run out of worthwhile things to say. At least for the time being. So ciao, the lot of you, and I hope you have fun with whatever you're up to!

Hmm. I seem to be somewhat contrary this week.

I have deleted several rather strident replies to posts this evening, upon realizing that the person in question was a, ignorant of the details of the matter, and b, probably wasn't going to be anything but defensive over being publicly corrected as to same. Unfortunately, one such got through my internal censor last night, and got posted, which was probably a mistake which I'll probably come to regret some time in the future. But that milk is spilt already, alas.

I wonder what's making me feel Opinionated right now... (yes, that capitalization was intentional, and for emphasis.) I'd check my horoscope, but I don't feel like it. (And that's strange as well.) It's normal for Saggitarians to have a certain amount of tactless, brash, hoof in mouth disease, but not usually with aggro backing it up, you know?

Perhaps this is not the very best time to be sitting on panels at a con...

*Writes a hundred times: "I must not act like a Hell-biting shrew in public, or out loud, especially for the sake of stupid things like subjective opinions."*

In other news, our architect might be trying to cheat us, our pet sitter seems to have left a measuring cup in the upstairs shower for some wholly mysterious reason, and I'm only halfway through transcribing my New Zealand diaries. But otherwise, things proceed apace.

For starters, we have a rather pointless survey-quest-thing, which I did last night between skip-zomg-don't-you-people-SLEEP's:
( Stuff you don't really need to know about the Me... )

And second, a warning. It's snowing, and I'm all Thinky with it. I might get a bit spammy with the Navelgazing today. Fair warning, k?

Great Peanut, has it really been only three weeks?

Anyhow, I'm back. Sore, exhausted, and more than ready to be home, for all it was a brilliant trip, and I'm glad to the core that we made it. Yes, there will be a travelogue -- I was keeping a daily paper journal while I couldn't get at the internets, -- and Dominus, his sister, and I were all snapping away like mad with the happysnaps, so there will be a metric arseload of photos to go along with. Once we get through the mountain of laundry, and endure the Rite of Shunning. (Actually, Godric and Mithril have both already blown the RoS. Only Hilfy is holding out, but I give her until she notices that the bed's heating pad is turned on, and then she'll be all cuddles.)

Things for which I am giving thanks tonight:
BROADBAND!!!
Kittyluvins.
Seltzer.
My car stereo.
A husband who shares my music tastes, so we could have music playing on the 3 hour drive from the airport.
Maps. ACCURATE maps, that is.
My. Own. Bed.

And I'm too demmed tired to be thankful for much more than that. I'm sure I'll be lots thankfuller tomorrow though. For now, this is Catt, calling light's out.
Ciao!