alisandramel

Madame Mao ate nothing yesterday. This morning I put down her favorite dry food in hopes to tempt her. She ate literally a single nugget. She was more receptive of a few kitty treats. Her litter box was not filled with the usual offerings, and the one meager turd looked like there's blood in it. My beautiful feline is not well, and I fear seriously not well. I am going to do my best to get her to the vet today, and believe that I am panicking without reason and try to get over the the blast of guilt that I have been ignoring symptoms in favor of my attitude that a little weight loss isn't going to hurt an obese kitty. I am an unworthy cat keeper. Which is so not true, but feels true right now.

 So...

Party stuff:  The party starts at 7pm Tuesday (8/5), but the speech stuff and the prizes will be done at 8pm.  This is to give me some time to set up, for people to arrive, and for me to run around and look at people's pretty, pretty clothes.  Bring a chair if you want to sit - there will not be much of any kind of setup other than tables for the food.  Food will be sweets and sodas, and I plan to have a gluten-free tray or two (they will be marked). 

I got a request to do a post in more detail on my braiding and sewing of trim; I need to take some pictures to do that properly, so I'll probably do that some time after Pennsic.

My apartment has reached epic Clean House proportions of clutter; I have lost sight of the carpet in three rooms.  This will hopefully change after Pennsic.  The shoe population has got out of hand and is starting to graze on the empty shoe boxes in the back; I must cull. I like to bag up bunches of stuff for the thrift store every six months or so - it's all stuff that won't sell at a yard sale anyway, so getting the tax write-off makes more sense.  And it's the best kind of recycling.  

I have been making little piles of stuff that I've bought for various collections - mother of pearl and antique bone buttons, creche stuff, WWII and 1940s ephemera - I need to actually get some of that under control and in their respective boxes/display shelves.  The side table in the sitting room is starting to disappear under kitschy Christmas stuff.

The on-line shop is just not happening for a bit - I can't work out how to effectively get the patterns on line so they can be seen for purchase without people just taking the image and copying it.  There is a mistaken idea that if it's on the web it's free for the taking (and copyright notices don't seem to stop that), so I don't really have much faith that people will actually buy the patterns as opposed to downloading the pictures (albeit in a less clear and not full-sized state) from the shop web site.  Sorry.

Which reminds me - I need to get the paper catalog off to Plimoth - they are interested in carrying my patterns.  I was holding off until I had a couple of cushion patterns as well, but I'll do that later and send the patterns out now.  The news from Lilies War was that the coiling vine patterns seem the most popular.

I did finally get my copy of "Plimoth Life", and saw my picture.  I squee'd.

I'm also squee-ish because the Attack Laurel Party is being covered by the Pennsic Independent.  I haz made the Society Pages!  I am a CelebuLaurel!

Um, yeah.  I'm being exciting today, aren't I? 

Since I was thwarted in my effort to pay racquetball this morning, I decided to show up to the informal challenge session at my club.

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When I joined USA Racquetball, one of the selections was for the club you belonged to, and mine was actually on the list. Yeah, I have a club. I'm all elitist and shit, apparently.

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So with Tommy happily playing in the kids' area, and Jake off to her aqua fitness class, I showed up as the FNG and proceeded to introduce myself to the club's racquetball pro:

"Welcome! Are you A or Open?"

I knew enough that there was a scale, and I've never competed. "Uh, no."

"Well, tonight is for the A/Open players. Tomorrow night is A and below. You can try it out if you like though."

"Sure, why not?"

So, while I waited my turn, I watched some of the games. Holy crap. First notice, the balls they used. These fireballs might as well have been gold-colored and winged.

"Who's that?"

"He was state A champion last year." ... "He's been Open Division state champion three times." ... "He's the current regional champ." ... "She's currently ranked 14th in the world."

Crap.

So I got my first game in, with a nice guy named Nick. (Actually, everyone was super-nice.) He shot balls past me like I was standing still. I was basically standing still. We played to 11 (busy night), and the score was 11-1. The second game I played with him, I squeaked out four points - 11-4. (Was he going easy on me? Probably.) He actually said I managed to pick up a lot more shots the second time around, and all I needed was a little warm-up. It was nice of him to say, maybe even true.

I even got into position and behind a bunch of balls, but my timing was completely off. They just ripped right past before I had the chance to think about swinging. Oddly enough, I still had fun.

I even got some free advice from a few of the guys on my racquet twisting problem. My grip is in fact too big, and I need a real racquetball glove, and not the baseball glove I'm using. I've a new racquet on order already, and now I need to find a proper (very large) racquetball glove.

As I was leaving, the organizer said I should come back tomorrow night where the players were "A and below". He said the atmosphere is still competitive, but more social. Wednesdays are for the big boys to come out, play each other and get ready for tournaments.

Hooray. I found the Crown Tourney preparation practice. For a game I really don't play. Tomorrow should be better.

I didn't actually do that much tonight.  What I did feels good though, because it finished up some things.  I took a truckload to storage.  Storage is now getting pretty full - unfortunately I have a couple more big things that need to fit in.  That went a long way toward cleaning up the sewing room and the dining room which were both repositories for things moved while painting.  There's a bunch of random small stuff in the dining room (some to be freecycled) and the sewing room still has the stuff that lives there (which needs cleaning up) plus a few leftover bits.  The floor there however, is  walkable again.

After that I dusted walls, baseboards and vacuumed carpet edges in the spare room.  Then I put the last coat of paint on the header and put the room back together.  Put the cleaned comforter on the bed and pronounced it "Done".  Then I did the touchup painting in the Master Bath and walk-in closet that's been on the list.  That finishes up that room as well.  That leaves the sewing room and Will's toy closet yet to do upstairs.  I plan to work on the toys this weekend.  I'm not sure yet when I'll work on the sewing room.   

And so a few more pieces fall into place in the sliding puzzle that is my house prep.

A stuffed pink pig with a ridiculous hot pink ribbon tied around its neck has appeared over the primary control console at work.

Absolutely everyone knew immediately that the pig was for Moose to reward (?) his habit of randomly announcing Je suis un petit cochon rose! at the top of his lungs. (He also says something in Russian involving grandmothers I'm truly glad I'm don't understand.)

I did not give him the pig, but I am proud to have drug others down to my level.

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You can confess things a 3 am that you can't discuss in daylight. I don't know what's more pathetic - that Jinx, M and I admitted to an Office Depot problem as we were raiding cabinets and drawers for supplies with which to organize the reams of data all over the table - or that an over fondness for crisp, new office supplies was all the racy we had to offer at 3 am.

M pulled out of the conversation when Jinx and I began discussing the Container Store with the passion a sterotypical woman reserves for jewelry or haute couture. Jinx actually fanned herself.

Even though I use pens or a mechanical pencil these days, there is just something about a freshly sharpened yellow number 2 pencil that smells of a new beginning.

Pencils are yellow, by the way, because when the Ticondarago company introduced these new fangled yellow and green pencils at the Chicago World Faire, yellow far outsold the green and the imitators immediately copied the popular model - kinda like the Windows folk copying the iPhone.

I am babbling. I need sleep.
I think I shall go to bed before this entry starts to go on about frogs.

I blame everyone who is panicking over Pennsic for my panic attack this morning.

I have nothing that isn't under control, but I keep getting madly anxious every time I read my f'list, dammit. So you all need to stop panicking - Pennsic will happen, and you will all be fine.

Mind you, I have tons of outfits. *smirky smirk* You may smack me now.

Day three of a sinus headache. Blech. Doesn't make Pennsic prep any easier. Last night's insomnia isn't helping either. It doesn't make sense since I'm really really tired - I just can't seem to stay asleep. Hopefully I'll get a nap today.

At least the latest A/C problem has been fixed - no more water through the sewing room ceiling. It should still be under warranty.

For some reason I keep forgetting that I need to go grocery shopping and clean the house in preparation for the house sitter. Sigh, grumble.

I stayed home from work today to await the homeowners association repair person who is scheduled to paint my offensive white front door. It is supposed to be a shade of blue for which I have no name, but since it was replaced I have failed my duty to call them in to take care of the eyesore and restore conformity. It has been some months. Anyway, after days of only the shortest of cloudlbursts, today we are getting a steady series of downpours which are not unwelcome in themselves, but mean that I probably will not be able to combine usefulness efforts. Pooh. I'm still staying home as I am so far behind in anything I wanted to do for Pennsic (entirely due to my own laziness) that I will try not to enitrely waste yet another day of good intentions. Ha. When I know for sure the repair person will not be here, I will almost certainly desire to be elsewhere.

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I am getting somewhat concerned about Madame Mao. She's not eating. She's lively and fussy enough, and will scarf down kitty treats if offered, but the smelly food from the can is not disappearing as usual. I'm hesitant to try to go back to dry food as that was what causing some of her obesity. Well, a little more weight loss won't hurt her, but if this keeps up, it is off to the vet.

Originally published at ... in a Bottle. You can comment here or there.

One day he will be a character in some novel I write. I would love to know the stories behind all the items on his person. Click the photo to see the copious notes I added in Flickr.

...well, technically, anyway. Thankfully airline tickets and passport were not required.

( My 'venture )

Yawn. Four hours of sleep, then drug myself out of bed and into a nice frock for the Dr. Sally Ride reception - celebrating the 25th anniversary of the first woman in space. Our senator and Dr. Ride were excellent speakers, but I have to say Science on a Sphere is always my favorite part.

About five years ago NOAA/NASA pioneered this three-D projection of satellite data and it is amazing to watch 30 years of ice data trace the shrinking of the polar ice caps; the SeaWifs satellite data assembled to paint an unprecedented picture of our biosphere tracing the ebb and flow of vegetation on land and sea; the SoHo and TRACE data assembled into the surface of the sun.

When Prince Phillip and Queen Elizabeth visited Goddard, Phillip's comment on S.O.S was We need one of those in the British Museum now.

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I should be packing before I leave for graveyard shift day 6 (?) (I think?).

But my war standard is, thanks to Roland, all painted:
( all painted )

During the week it feels like I move at a snails pace.  Of course with only 2 hours to work and after a long day at that, I suppose it really is a snails pace.  I've nearly unearthed the sewing room from the piles that started with the closet painting and worsened with the room painting.  I have a pile of boxes to put in storage.  Now I just hope I have enough space in my storage area.  It had been very organized but I fear now it will just be packed.

I had to laugh at today's horoscope:
Be confident about the fact that you are making progress -- even if you're not sure. 

So very appropriate.

I got goosed by a big silver Mercedes-Benz this morning. Not hard enough to do any damage, thank goodness. And apparently not hard enough for the driver to notice at all.

The Questions:
1) What is one of your favorite things to do alone at Pennsic?
Nap. Assuming it is not too hot, and sometimes when it is, I like to sleep in late or catch an afternoon nap. Pennsic is so busy that a precious nap is nice every now and then.

2) What is one of your favorite things to do with a group at Pennsic?
Breakfast in the common tent. No matter what time you rise, there is usually a small group of folks there, some are beyond breakfast and working on projects, some are just hanging out, but it is a friendly informal time in camp to watch the people walking by on Battle Rd. If you hear giggling coming from our common tent, I assure you, it's not aimed at you. :)

3) What is one of your best Pennsic Memories?
One of the times Alan and I were both able to go for two weeks we took a nice stroll around the lake close to dusk. It was light enough to see things, but dusky enough to have a bit of magic before nighttime mayhem set in, and romantic to be hand in hand with my sweetie.

4) What is one of your weirdest Pennsic Memories?
At one of Seonaid's Long Island Ice Tea parties, Countess Brigit was painting faces of anyone who would sit still, so I got something blue and sparkly painted on my face fairly early on. After some hanging with Theo and folks, Brighid (Big Hats) wanted to go into the bog, so I went with her and we had a grand time traipsing about visiting the Kinder Fodder camp, etc. (I remember hushing her when she started to use my title...) I finally walked her extremely inebriated self to her camp and made sure she was okay, and then I hiked my way out of the bog alone that night, swinging back by the Tea Party to see if anyone was still up and then home to crawl into bed. (Do not recommend this anymore, the alone out of the bog part.) I woke up the next morning, stumbled to the portajohns and puck_eater said something about having toothpaste on my face. I wanted to hit him, might have, and went to wash my face and continue on with the rest of the war.

5) What was your first Pennsic?
Pennsic 25 was my first War. I've been disappointed in the following medallions ever since.

6) How many/which Pennsics have you attended?
12 Pennsics so far- 25 (first), 26 (Bera's reign), 27 (the dreaded NATO encampment), 28 (Niobe's reign, Alan seneschal), 29 (joined Vair and Ermine), 30 (Princess Aryanna), 31 (Pelican Princess Padraigin), 32 (Cursed Trailer), 33 (the original Bunk Haus), 34 (Roman wear, Dred's vigil), 35 (last minute camp mom), and 36 (Arielle's reign).

7) What keeps you going back to Pennsic?
Friends, shopping, experiences. I keep saying that I'll take a year off, but haven't yet. Sometimes it is obligation to go and work the various areas I promised, which do always end up being fun and giving me excellent stories, and learning experiences. I like our camp, the people we surround ourselves with, the way we run things, the many opportunities to relax, serve and grow, all rolled into one (or two) intense weeks.

8) Are you going to Pennsic this year?
Totally, I'm Vair and Ermine's camp mom this year.

9) What group/block do you usually camp in?
Since Pennsic 29, we've been with Vair and Ermine in N18.

10) What three words would you use to describe Pennsic?
Theater, not drama.

I've had my fill. When is congress going to do something about this? There needs to be some type of control in place this doesn't happen. Potting soil is not a toy. Why was the potting soil sitting out like that? It should have been locked away with bag locks or disassembled. Kids could have come along and the next thing you know, they're out there planting at each other. Where is Martin Sheen and Al Sharpton to start a protest when you need it.


http://cms.firehouse.com/web/online/Photo-Stories/Potting-Soil-Sparks-Minnesota-House-Fire/45$60227

Minnesota firefighters had their hands full when they were dispatched to a deck fire in Mendota Heights on July 8.

Crews from Mendota Heights were dispatched at 10:23 a.m. and within a minute, additional reports included the house was on fire. Almost immediately, mutual aid was requested from the Inver Grove Heights and Eagan Fire Departments.

A young woman who was asleep in the house, just below the fires origin, was awoken by passersby who safely removed her from the house. While they tried in vane to contain the fire, one neighbor removed a car and motorcycle from the garage.

Mendota Heights Engine 10 arrived within six minutes and Ladder 10 was seconds behind, with Firefighter Jaime Lerbs assuming command. Crews encountered heavy fire from sides Alpha, Charlie and Delta, with smoke showing from all levels.

Crews mounted an attack from the front and rear of the structure, using 1 1/2-inch and 2 1/2-inch hoselines.

The fire was ruled accident, and was likely to be the spontaneous combustion of potting soil on the back deck. Fire melted the plastic flower pot and plastic table, which impinged on the fuel line for a gas grill, which helped the fire rapidly extend.

Fire crews were assisted by the Mendota Heights Public Works Department, the Mendota Heights and West Saint Paul Police Departments and medical coverage was provided by Health East.

I hope this posts right. This one is not my fault. It was sent to me. I did not go looking for this. I had to keep clicking on it to get to a readable size.

‘The traditional shout of “stand still or I will set the dog on you” will presumably now have to become “excuse me, my police dog is quite hairy and might cause alarm as he sinks his fangs into your right thigh – is that all right with you?” ‘

http://www.policelink.com/news/40716-k9-handlers-told-to-be-considerate-of-perps-with-allergies-fear-of-dogs

halowenslut's post reminded me of this.

I took a class in college called science fiction literature. It was about, of all things, race and gender awareness in the genre of science fiction. I saw myself as the token right winger just to be difficult. In a class of entitled 19 & 20 year olds I enjoyed pushing buttons.
The professor asked us to describe our utopian society. When it came my turn I said "Starship Troopers". This caused the professor to stop and ask for elaboration. I said a perfect society was one where those voting and making decisions about sending troops to war were people who had served. This caused much gnashing of teeth among the people who said a utopian society would legalize pot.
I also caused a tiff with my history of Germany professor. He had us read a biography of Bismarck. He asked for comments. None of the 20 or younger crowd was willing to speak up so I did. I said Bismarck was a hypocrite and I hated the book. I didn't know until later that the professor's hero was Bismarck. I explained that Bismarck was a hypocrite because he pissed and moaned during his entire conscription period until he was released after only serving a few months. Yet when he became chancellor he pushed for even wider conscription. He didn't have the stomach for serving in the army but he put it in the field for six years of fighting. I said only those that have worn the uniform should be allowed to put it in harms way. He said "sometimes you need cooler heads in politics to know when to stop fighting." I responded with "Do you really think, knowing how driven Bismarck was, that if the wars of unification had gone badly that he would have ever taken the army out of the field?" I got a C in the class.

http://carsportals.com/2008/07/17/texas-bank-crash-stupid-of-the-year-video/

Fin and I watched a not-edited-for-television cut of Ghostbusters the other day. Between the frequent obscenities, constant cigarette smoking, and one ectoplasmic blow job, it's way more Saturday Hight Live than Saturday Morning Cartoons.