Saturday, May 21st, 2005 09:12 pm
sometimes you just feel like a song
Child went for an overnight with my sister, the better to swim in her apartment's swimming pool. It's not like I'm offended I was thrown over for a chlorinated body of water. This is the time I pull out my Secret Hobbies.
Things I Do That I Can't Do With Child Around and About
1.) My headphones have this nifty little microphone attached that swings down and, if you squint really hard, looks sort of like something a performer would use. I have performed numerous shows for the delighted pleasure of my bed and television. For those lucky enough to have never heard me sing, I am being propositioned by the local Coyote pack (Lodge 418, the Death Howlers) to take up the midnight shift. The benefit package is nothing to sneeze at either. Apparently, freshly killed rabbit and snake are a perk of membership. So I am just guessing that I won't be chucking all to go out and sustain a singing career.
On the other hand, skidding around the area in my undies and passionately singing Belinda Carlisle's Summer Rain (I feel so *connected* to this song, don't you?) is something I am not quite ready to give up until Child comes back, at which time he covers his ears and begs me to stop. I have gotten him to go to bed on time with threats of singing him to sleep.
Hmm.
2.) Watch QaF vids. I just can't when he's within a five mile radius. There's some sort of instinct in him that homes in on me doing something he has no business seeing, and right when the most explicit bit comes up, there he is, at my shoulder, eyes wide, asking "Mom, what are they *doing*?" and yes, I've covered biology, but damned if I'm covering the variations of sexuality at this point. It's just not happening anytime soon. Just no. The egg thing? Was enough. Really.
3.) Clean my sheets. Child is a *dirty* magnet to freshly washed sheets. I have no idea how he does this.
Things That Didn't Cause Our Deaths Today
The air conditioner went out.
Yes, all the way here, I can hear
out_there wince in what comes next--namely, that the family gathered to marvel over the contraption trapped in our walls providing centralized cooling. what does this do, we wonder, poking at metal bits and non-metal bits and other Inexplicable Things that change hot, humid air to nicely chilly. My, we say, that is intersting, as we stare at pipes and tubes and brackets.
You'll all be deeply relieved to know I had no part of the proceedings other than offering to solder (sauter? Does *anyonE* know the proper spelling?) the bits together, should anyone procur me some fun welding things. There were--loose bits. Even now, none of us are sure if they were supposed to be loose or not, but there you have it.
Dad, showing more wisdom than is his wont, decided to call a repair person type, and I lent my skills into googling for one open on Saturdays, while Mom took the door off the Air Conditioner Closet Thing and stared into it at all the things within. It is a mess. I mean, I think it was a mess before we took up the Mantle of Handiwoman-ness, but really, now?
Wait, I'm jumping ahead.
A guy was found and contacted, but no idea when he'd arrive. Unacceptable, we screamed unto the sky, cause *fuck*, it's ninety something degress at eighty percent humidity. I get less wet taking *showers*. Family breathed hot air in considered thought, and Mom decided, hmmm. When I do this, VCRs hide and my computer cries. Staring at the unit with a look saying that soon, it would beg for negotiations for peace, she took out a screwdriver, some twine, and some duct tape, and started putting things that looked broken together.
No, not joking. A screwdriver, twine, and duct tape. And lo, our air conditioner is working, and none of us, even my mother, knows why or how. We will sleep cool tonight, and very probably wake up dead tomorrow for having offended the Air Conditioning Gods or something, 'cause really. TWINE. DUCT TAPE. I think there was a toolbox involved with such gadgets as That Weird Thing that You Use to Pull Stuff and That Hammer Thing and That Thing with Batteries that Goes Vroom and the Myriad Variations of the Wrench adn the Screws of Many Useful Sizes and Types. I'm just not sure if she *used* any of it.
*shakes head* It's like--our thing. My genetic preclude a lot of things that normal people have--sanity, a bend toward cleanliness, common sense, not to mention financial sense of any sort--but we do have this. We can fiddle with major appliances and not die. When the Apccalypse, the Revolution, or the Second Coming appears on the horizon, I don't care where I am, I am chugging my way back to my mother, who will doubtless, beyond reason, make the car run without gas and rig fires using, well, duct tape and twine and probably restart the industrial revolution using flour and a fingernail or something. It's really creepy, now that I think of it.
In other news, I am now on the homestretch of Landscape and no closer to the end than I ever was. I think of this story as a marathoner thinks of the finish line--not with joy, but with the grim satisfaction of knowing the little bastard is *done* and never will it haunt me again. With that, I'm downloading
permetaform's vids from here, since by God, I passed the seventy thousand word mark and *deserve* it. besides,
lierdumoa was totally pimping her and, as her taste is flawless, I am all over it.
Things I Do That I Can't Do With Child Around and About
1.) My headphones have this nifty little microphone attached that swings down and, if you squint really hard, looks sort of like something a performer would use. I have performed numerous shows for the delighted pleasure of my bed and television. For those lucky enough to have never heard me sing, I am being propositioned by the local Coyote pack (Lodge 418, the Death Howlers) to take up the midnight shift. The benefit package is nothing to sneeze at either. Apparently, freshly killed rabbit and snake are a perk of membership. So I am just guessing that I won't be chucking all to go out and sustain a singing career.
On the other hand, skidding around the area in my undies and passionately singing Belinda Carlisle's Summer Rain (I feel so *connected* to this song, don't you?) is something I am not quite ready to give up until Child comes back, at which time he covers his ears and begs me to stop. I have gotten him to go to bed on time with threats of singing him to sleep.
Hmm.
2.) Watch QaF vids. I just can't when he's within a five mile radius. There's some sort of instinct in him that homes in on me doing something he has no business seeing, and right when the most explicit bit comes up, there he is, at my shoulder, eyes wide, asking "Mom, what are they *doing*?" and yes, I've covered biology, but damned if I'm covering the variations of sexuality at this point. It's just not happening anytime soon. Just no. The egg thing? Was enough. Really.
3.) Clean my sheets. Child is a *dirty* magnet to freshly washed sheets. I have no idea how he does this.
Things That Didn't Cause Our Deaths Today
The air conditioner went out.
Yes, all the way here, I can hear
You'll all be deeply relieved to know I had no part of the proceedings other than offering to solder (sauter? Does *anyonE* know the proper spelling?) the bits together, should anyone procur me some fun welding things. There were--loose bits. Even now, none of us are sure if they were supposed to be loose or not, but there you have it.
Dad, showing more wisdom than is his wont, decided to call a repair person type, and I lent my skills into googling for one open on Saturdays, while Mom took the door off the Air Conditioner Closet Thing and stared into it at all the things within. It is a mess. I mean, I think it was a mess before we took up the Mantle of Handiwoman-ness, but really, now?
Wait, I'm jumping ahead.
A guy was found and contacted, but no idea when he'd arrive. Unacceptable, we screamed unto the sky, cause *fuck*, it's ninety something degress at eighty percent humidity. I get less wet taking *showers*. Family breathed hot air in considered thought, and Mom decided, hmmm. When I do this, VCRs hide and my computer cries. Staring at the unit with a look saying that soon, it would beg for negotiations for peace, she took out a screwdriver, some twine, and some duct tape, and started putting things that looked broken together.
No, not joking. A screwdriver, twine, and duct tape. And lo, our air conditioner is working, and none of us, even my mother, knows why or how. We will sleep cool tonight, and very probably wake up dead tomorrow for having offended the Air Conditioning Gods or something, 'cause really. TWINE. DUCT TAPE. I think there was a toolbox involved with such gadgets as That Weird Thing that You Use to Pull Stuff and That Hammer Thing and That Thing with Batteries that Goes Vroom and the Myriad Variations of the Wrench adn the Screws of Many Useful Sizes and Types. I'm just not sure if she *used* any of it.
*shakes head* It's like--our thing. My genetic preclude a lot of things that normal people have--sanity, a bend toward cleanliness, common sense, not to mention financial sense of any sort--but we do have this. We can fiddle with major appliances and not die. When the Apccalypse, the Revolution, or the Second Coming appears on the horizon, I don't care where I am, I am chugging my way back to my mother, who will doubtless, beyond reason, make the car run without gas and rig fires using, well, duct tape and twine and probably restart the industrial revolution using flour and a fingernail or something. It's really creepy, now that I think of it.
In other news, I am now on the homestretch of Landscape and no closer to the end than I ever was. I think of this story as a marathoner thinks of the finish line--not with joy, but with the grim satisfaction of knowing the little bastard is *done* and never will it haunt me again. With that, I'm downloading
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From:Can you come to my house and turn an air compressor into an air conditioner? I have hammers, screws, magic mending tape, screwdrivers and pliers.
And, Jenn, my one-of-the-best-of-the-best SV fic writers, if you say yes to this offer, made for purely ulterior motives, I will mail you DVDs of all four seasons and the mini-series of Farscape to, hopefully, hook you on the magic crack and gain your skills for the fandom.
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From:*ponders*
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From:*mistrustful*
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From:You have to wait for it, but it comes.
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From:lol! That's just *classic*.
According to my dictionary, 'solder' is the correct spelling. It just doesn't look right, does it?
In the event of the appocolypse, WWIII, etc, may I have your mom's address? It sounds like she's a handy person to have nearby.
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From:*pets mother* She's cool like that.
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From::glances at today's 110 temperature:
:cringes again:
But hey - one of the machines where I work is held together with duct tape, a safety pin, and a plastic butter knife...never underestimate the power of duct tape.
Linzee
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From:I'm not sure if I missed it, but I remember you saying you were going to post the last part of 'Jus Ad Bellum', and so I was hoping you could point me towards it if it's already online..?
Thanks so much!
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From:The only thing I was looking for that I didn't see was Rogue seeing Logan again when she got back to her world... unless her feeling Logan's hands on her face and lips against her forehead was that Logan, and not a memory of other-world-Logan (which is what I thought it was when reading it just now), but either way, that small omission - if it is an omission - isn't going to get in the way of my enjoyment of every word written. :)
I'm really glad you decided to post the ending to this (just in case I haven't said it enough already). This is the kind of story that makes me wish fanfic could be published.
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From:My niece is spending the night tonight, and we will have to (at some vague point in time) work on her homework. A fifth grade *power point* report on Texas. Any suggestions for websites on cool facts about Texas? People, places or industry?
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From:http://www.tpwd.state.tx.us
I'll see if I can find anythingelse interesting. Hmm.
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From:I am laughing so hard at that. Seriously. It's like... I don't know. There's some dodgy action show that probably uses the exact same recipe for Correcting And Fixing Delicate Machinery, but your clan brings it to life.
*giggles*
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From:My husband can do the same thing with clean sheets.
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From:Very impressively mysterious. It's kind of like magic, huh? Like in the old days you would be the appliance witchdoctors of the village. That is if they had major appliances in the old days. *g*
Also, it being warm enough to use air conditioning just struck me as so weird and sounds so nice to me. Vermont is so freaking cold. 46F here right now and raining with a predicted high of 50. It's been so cold this month I've hardly gotten outside to work in the yard. Must move south. Soon.
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From:I hear ya about the stuff you can't do with child in the house! It's amazing how they just home in on it!
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