Good Things in the Morning III

It's New Year's Eve, and this is my very last entry into the 365 Project for 2014.  And it's weird, because it really doesn't seem all that long ago that I took the first picture.

Not that a year is a long time, by any stretch of the imagination.  Well, not when you're 33, anyway.  But still.  I have at least 350 photos that I took for this project- and more when you start counting up all the ones I didn't use on a given day.  That's a lot of little moments for me to remember.  And if I didn't quite meet my goal of crowding out all the bad, well... maybe it was an impossible goal to begin with. At least I tried.  And as shitty as the worst parts of this year were (and I will say they might in fact go down as the absolute shittiest) (please dear stars let them go down as the shittiest) at least the best parts were mind-blowingly, joy-fillingly, sparkler-lightingly good.  We take the bitter with the sweet, and all that.

Speaking of sweet (and bitter) Nathan and I are now back in the 'Couve- but we had a wonderful family breakfast this morning before we took off, and my brother made us all smoothies using one of his Christmas gifts:

this is the rainbow I prefer to taste
I think the O'Richey-Os are going to ring in the New Year quietly on the couch (my voice is back, but not  necessarily strong yet), which is just fine by me.  And tomorrow will be a new day, and a new year, and I will take photos if I feel like it, or maybe I won't, but either way I'll be looking for those little moments to savor, and hopefully remembering to savor them.



toes like fat pink cushions



toes like little curly shrimp


Head Towards the Light

Most of today was taken up by driving to Spokane, and endeavor rendered positively enjoyable by a) our lovely new car and b) a Terry Pratchett audiobook.

Our appreciation of the comfort of our car was swiftly eclipsed by our appreciation of her traction, once we hit the east side of the state, because the snow and ice out here does not mess around.  The main roads in Spokane were all plowed, of course, but as we turned into my brother's neighborhood (which seems to be uphill both coming and going so how does that work?) we found ourselves driving on sheets of ice.  But our little goat-mobile took no notice, and kept right on getting us to the places we needed to go.

And now here we are!
and I still don't have a voice


Welcome Home

I spent most of today being pitiful on the couch again, but Nathan felt right as rain and was able to keep his ski-date with my uncle.  I myself kept a seven-hour date with a bunch of overly dramatic teenaged vampires, and quite frankly feel like I perhaps had the better end of the deal, since I stayed nice and cozy and no crazy snowboarders tried to assassinate me.

Maybe it was all the tea, or the chicken broth, or perhaps Ian Somerhalder's smolder, but I was feeling downright functional by the time evening rolled around, so I baked Nathan some (gluten free) cookies to welcome him home (since I still am incapable of actually vocalizing the sentiment).
nothing says "love" like chocolate chip, right?


Spin a Silent Story

It's official:
I am a plague monkey
And not only am I a plague monkey, laid up all pitifully on the couch with my medicines and my hot liquids and my tissues, I am also a plague  monkey who straight up has no voice.  It's one of the strangest, most frustrating experiences of my entire life, although I did get a good story seed out of it, so we'll see if that goes anywhere... maybe once I can think clearly again.



Merry Christmas, you guys.

I spent it in the company of various beloved friends, including one newly-trained carpet inspector:
might fine textures you have here



I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but Nathan does music at our church, which means he is there every Sunday for not one but two services.  I am decidedly not there every Sunday- once a quarter is more like it- but whenever I go I do enjoy it.
the slow creep of evening
There was a special Christmas Eve service tonight, all music and reading, which meant that Nathan was onstage for the entire time, and I sat contentedly alone in a pretty blue chair.  It was a lovely experience, both visually and aurally, although I always do feel distinctly out of place during Communion.

Afterwards we came home and, since we have no small children to teach discipline to, proceeded to open alllll our presents, and then drink up hot cocoa and hazelnut-infused rum.  Delicious!  Plus I am wearing my new, fleece-lined jeans and burgundy rabbit's fur collar, and feeling super cozy and contented with life.  And now we are watching Parks and Recs and Nathan is making me a pizza and life is so very good.  Plus I have a new nephew to meet next week, which brings the official nibling* count up to nine- count 'em, nine:

Mantis Shrimp

Now I'm sure you're looking at that list and thinking, "Mantis Shrimp?  Mantis Shrimp?  How did you come up with that code name?" and the answer to that, my friends, comes down to the fact that, at 7lb 10oz I declared him "shrimpy" compared to his brother, who was close to 11lbs at birth.  But shrimpy in a sizeable way.  Hence Mantis Shrimp.

(plus I am amused by the idea of a baby being the harbinger of blood-soaked rainbows.)

*(I have some unofficial niblings, too, including but not limited to Blue and Skully...)


But Who Will Hear the Prayers of the Earth?

rose colored dreams
(Just another fine Humblebug creation.)


Approaching the End

And not just of the special gluten-free cookies, mind you...
Yep, there are less than ten days in this 365 project- although thanks to the Koopa's little drama-fit, it's technically only going to be a 351 project.  I think.  My math may be a little fuzzy on that, but I think we can all agree that it doesn't really matter.

Anyway, I've been trying to think about how I want to handle that- if I want to do an additional two weeks in the New Year, or just an extra 14 photos whenever I feel like it, or what.  I'm not sure yet- frankly I'm so relieved to be drawing close to the end that it's hard to care about technicalities like that.

Also I want more cookies.


The Broken One

this is what comes of my insistence re:decorating the outdoor trees


Let's Go

Sometimes things just work out.
vroom vroom
The first time I got pregnant, back in the summer of 2013, Nathan and I realized that we were probably going to have to do something about the Car Situation.  Namely the fact that we were a single-(small)car family with a large and boisterous pit bull, plus a baby on the way- and a propensity for driving out to to the wild to go adventuring, often with quite a bit of gear.  This realization, over 18 months ago, kick-started us into researching just what sort of vehicle we'd want, if we were to get a second one.  And by "us" I mean "Nathan", because in this marriage he is in charge of research, and I am in charge of making sure we can afford whatever it is he's researched.  Partnership, see?  We lost that pregnancy, obviously, but we kept right on looking at cars in the hopes that it might once again become relevant.

We didn't feel any real pressure, which is sort of the ideal circumstances under which to look for a new car- until, that is, I got pregnant again, and then the ante was summarily upped once more.  But again, that didn't pan out... but our desire for a new vehicle stayed piqued because, quite frankly, we realized we were ready for a grown-up car.  That is to say, a car that wouldn't send me into fits of sciatica on long trips, and that we could accelerate onto the freeway with, without sending up a fervent prayer to St. Christopher.  And also butt warmers, because damn technology is amazing, ya'll.

So we looked and we looked, and we agreed that what we'd really want, if only we had the money, was a 2015 Subaru Forester Limited.  Ha ha ha hah.  But we are (occasionally) patient people, and we knew that in a year or two we could probably get said vehicle for the price we were willing to pay.

As all of this was going on, we were also waiting on the outcome of my grandmother's estate, which has been puttering along since 2012.  We weren't depending on the money by any stretch of the imagination, but we did acknowledge that, should it come through, it would certainly make things easier.

And then, last week, it did come through- and literally the next day Nathan found an advertisement for a certified pre-owned 2015 Forester that had every last thing- right down to the color- we had daydreamed about, with only 55 miles on it.  And the asking price?  Almost exactly the amount of the check we'd received.  That's right: a new car for the price of a used car, for the amount my generous grandmother left me.

We took the hint.


Remember the Ghosts

My mother, as I have mentioned, sends lovely care packages, especially around the holidays.  She always includes things that may be opened immediately, and things that are not to be opened until Christmas Day.  Being adults (and perhaps somewhat dull) we did not actually open the "immediate" things until this evening, when we had a nice quiet moment to indulge.  Of especial interest were several flat, rectangular objects which whispered "book" to fingertips once deft at discerning contents based on shape and feel alone...
My heart squeezed when I unwrapped this particular gift, because one of my clearest memories of my father is of him reading aloud to me the words of this story when I was no more than six or seven.  It was Christmas Eve, and we were curled up on the couch in his parents' living room, surrounded by a quiet darkness made gentle by the rainbow shimmer of Christmas lights.  His voice painted pictures in that darkness, bringing to life the humor, the horror, and the hope of the tale.

I held this tiny volume in my hands tonight, remembering, and had the overwhelming urge to read it aloud to someone else, to pass along the magic of a quiet voice in the darkness.  But there is no small form to share with me this Christmas Present, and it seems less and less likely that there will ever be one to share it with me in Christmas Future.  And I realized as I sat there, staring at the red and gold cover, heart aching with those twin emotions of joy and sorrow, that what I really want is for someone to read it aloud to me, curled up tight in the light of Christmas Past.


Many Thoughts

the real reason we keep so many pennies in our house


Heart and Center

This is, obviously, an unintended image, but I like it nonetheless.
I like the feeling of speed.  It makes me think of that old saying, "The kitchen is the heart of the home."  It's so true- the way it pulls people in, then pumps them back out again, full of warmth and nutrients.


Special Delivery

My mom sends the best gift boxes:
seriously you guys: the best
(Please note the special tin of cookies just for me!)


The Eight-Year-Old's Delight

I went to an afternoon tea today, and it was so lovely.  My inner-eight-year-old almost swooned at the sheer delicate-pink-sparkly-elegant-tinyness of it all.
::insert high-pitched-shrieks-of-covetous-joy-here::
My outer 33-year-old was just glad that they were able to provide me with a good herbal.

(although when I poured it into my cup and it turned out to be pink, the 8-yo nearly lost her damn mind again.)


Failing at Adulthood

This day has not been ideal.  In fact mostly it has been me failing at doing adult things, like keeping a lovely garden or a neat yard, or putting up Christmas lights with anything even resembling competence.
...as though a holiday fairy came along and vomited right on that poor tree...
I feel like I wouldn't be so frustrated by it, if I hadn't done a perfectly decent job in years past.  It's just that this year I don't have a tall enough ladder to put them on the roof, and it turns out that icicle-strands are not actually ideal for wrapping around tree trunks.

Guess I know what to put in my letter to Santa this year...


Seasonal Saturation

Now if only there was some snow to set it all off...
you can't handle the red


What Comes

High wind warning in effect tonight, and the afternoon skies were definitely heralding it.


Seeking Shelter

This is Heart Attack Squirrel:
Pleased to Meet You
I call him that for his habit of scaring the ever loving jeebers out of me on a semi-regular basis.  Please note how close I am to him.  That is because Heart Attack Squirrel knows no fear, beyond the fear he strikes in the hearts of those unwary fools who venture too close to the recycle bins when he's in a "popping out from nowhere" sort of mood.

After near-on four years in this office I am used to his shenanigans, but it was only today that I learned perhaps why he is so insistent with his scratching on the front door.  It turns out that one of the people who worked in the office before me had a habit of leaving the door open, to get fresh air, and the result of that was that squirrels made their nest in the shred box, which I find unbelievably hilarious and wish I'd been around for.  This revelation led me to the obvious conclusion that Heart Attack Squirrel must have been born in said shred box, and now all he wants is to get back to the place he belongs.

Poor little terrorist.


The Virgin

We bought Isis a new blanket today.
It's blue, and she loves it.


Hung Like Notes on the Boughs of My Soul

I could not have arranged a more seasonally-appropriate image if I'd painted it myself



I got out of bed at 1000 this morning only to shuffle my way downstairs and onto the couch, where I snuggled with the pig until 2000, and then shuffled my way back up to bed.  Nathan kept me pumped full of medicine (and delicious bone broth), so here's hoping I'll feel better by tomorrow.  In the meantime, here is one of my many blankets:
poor pitiful me


Don't Be Afraid

Today was a non-stop sort of day, beginning with my Office Holiday Party and ending with my Regional Holiday Party, both of which I had a hand in planning and implementing.

They were fun, but I'm super-amazingly glad they're done.

For the Office Party I dressed up as Mrs. Claus (for pictures with the kids), and to while away the time between groups of people showing up (it was sort of an Open House format) I partook in a suitably Mrs. Claus-y pass time, which is to say embroidering yet another bib:
...to fall for me

The friends I'm making this one for are climbers, hence the knot motif.  And just so you know, free-handing knot work remains a pain the petticoated-rear.



I've been pretty under the weather lately, so I decided to try my hand at making bone broth.  It's currently chilling in the fridge, in the hopes it becomes appropriately jello-like in consistency.  But when I took this picture, it was fully liquid and lovely:
the consistency of comfort


Where You Should Have Been

another ghost pregnancy come to term


The Unforgettable Fire

thanks for dragging me to the window this morning, husband.  you were right: it was worth it.


Snow Balls

We have a Christmas tree at the office, and today I took some time to add to the decorations that my boss had already put up over the weekend.
It's always weird to me when I see Christmas trees that are very... cohesive.  You know, thematic, or what have you.  Christmas trees that involve a lot of glass balls or other matched ornaments.  That is not the sort of Christmas tree I grew up with.  Our tree was much more... chaotic.  And definitely not even remotely match-y or color-themed or crafted to any specific aesthetic.  Our Christmas tree would never have looked right in a department store display window.

But what our tree had, was character.  A story to every ornament.  A memory for every glint, glimmer, or dull gleam.  A precedent for which bauble went where.  And that's why Nathan and I have such a very small tree (although at 3ft it's an upgrade from the tree we had when we were first married): we don't have enough ornaments built up yet to cover a large tree, and I refuse to buy ornaments "just because".

So now you know a bit about my Christmas tree, which is beautiful not because of how it looks, but because of what it is.

Now have the cool, inversed image of balls, because I like it:
so shiny!


Cast a Long Shadow

Here we are, in the final month of my 365 project.  Woo!
One thing I've learned to do is be a lot more aware of my surroundings, particularly what's on the ground, because I've so often found good images that way.  I expect I'll keep looking around, even when I'm no longer "committed" to getting a photo every day... and hopefully my life will be the richer for it.


Winter Coat

It's been a bit frosty in the mornings, lately.
the sun coaxes you to take it off, tho'
(the more I look at it, the more I feel this may be one of my favorite photos I've taken this year)


Where You Went (20 Years)

This is not the photo I had planned for today.

Originally I thought of the title (which I did use) and decided that I would take a photo of the night sky.  And of course, as we all know, nothing would show up, because iPhones are only so powerful.  And I would post that picture of empty black, and it would be this whole commentary on how you can know something is there even if you can't see it.  Even if there's no evidence of it.  Even if it looks like nothing at all.

But then I started snapping, and it was just too bleak.  Because sometimes it doesn't matter what the truth is: sometimes we have to craft a prettier story or lose ourselves.  Even if we have to take the truth and flip it and twist it and invert it until it comes close to being something we can live with.  There can be truth within lies.  And some lies are truer than truth.

Because it doesn't hurt anyone, to pretend there is one star out there, shining so brightly that it overcomes all the limitations of our current understanding.

It doesn't hurt anyone, to knowingly build a better truth.


Things You Don't Want to See Broken

Let us back up to earlier this week, Tuesday morning, as a matter of fact, when I popped down to the cellar to get something or other.  Little Cat, like the brat she is, slunk in behind me, and refused to come out.  So I left her in there, shutting the door to ensure none of the other animals joined her, and went to work.

Around noon I texted Nathan to check on her and see if she wanted to come out.  His response?  "Not yet, apparently."

That afternoon I discovered a wretched ant infestation, and after raining down my wrath upon them, further discovered I was out of paper towels in the kitchen.  So back down to the cellar I went, calling again for Little Cat.  This time, not being in a rush to get to work, I stood perfectly still and listened for her.  I did not hear her, but what I did hear, was... water...

I followed the sound and noticed a large damp stain around the water heater, and then realized that it was leaking- not just dripping, but a small stream trickling out of the seal around the drain-faucet.  "Huh," I said to myself.  "That's probably not good."  And then I called Nathan down to take a peak at it, because he knows more about the bowels of the house than I do.

"Nope, not good," Nathan agreed, and went outside to turn the water off.  And can you guess who came prancing in the front door as he did so?  Yes.  You are right.  Little Cat can walk through walls.


Anyway, flash forward to today, skimming over the parts where we'd been living mostly without water (we'd turn it on for a bit in the morning and at night, just to do things like brush our teeth, etc), and the plumber finally is able to come out.  He and Nathan troop downstairs, and then I hear a lot of angry language and the plumber rushes back up, then back down, this time with a huge bucket.  And then the three of us are engaged in a twenty-minute long race to move who knows how many gallons of scalding hot water from the cellar to the bathtub using two buckets and two large bowls.  Exciting!

What had happened was that when the plumber tried to open the drain, the entire thing just... broke.
Not good.  Not good at all.  Also, see how nice my nails are when I'm not climbing regularly?
His angry words were mostly for the guy who'd installed such a cheap part in the first place (apparently brass from different parts of the world has different levels of quality to it- who knew?) and fortunately for us the whole thing was still under warranty (we replaced the entire water heater last year, literally the day after my first miscarriage, which is why I was so hazy about the whole thing) so we only had to pay for labor.

...well, that and the massive amounts of water that I literally just poured straight down the drain.  ::sigh::  Ah,  home-ownership... at least we caught it in time.  Thanks, Little Cat!


Pieces of the Action

Happy Turkey Liberation Day!
here comes trouble

We spent ours with the Trout family, and I popped three pills just to make absolutely certain that I'd be able to handle all the gluten.  Now I just wish there was something to help me with the sugar...

And now, gentle readers, gather close and I shall tell you a tale of Ham.

Earlier this week I asked Papa Trout what we might bring to the table, and he said, "Could you bring a ham or something?" and I said, "Done!" because I had literally just won a ham from a contest at work.  Big ol' package sitting on my desk, proclaiming itself, "Honey Baked Ham!"  Providence!

So this morning Nathan and I start to unbox the ham, because we want to heat and glaze it before we head out to the Trout Homestead.  And as Nathan is unwrapping it, I say, "Huh, it sure is a little ham.  And... kind of... flat..." and then Nathan takes off the last bit of covering, and...

It is a cheesecake.

It is 11AM on Thanksgiving, and the ham I have promised to bring for 20+ people is a cheesecake!

And that is how Nathan found himself running to WalMart (which was thankfully open) and buying literally the last ham in the entire store.  He came back in brandishing it proudly and I said, "Well it's a good thing God likes the Trouts," to which he replied, "What about me?" and I said, "He likes you too, but he likes them better: they've had longer to curry favor," which apparently my husband takes issue with but whatever.

Anyway, I stuck cloves all over that ham and then popped it the oven.  We took a look at the glaze that came with it and said, "Yeuch," so Nathan remedied the situation by making a superior glaze using honey, brown sugar, and stoutly-steeped pumpkin-spice tisane.  It was phenomenal.

All this to say, we arrived 18 minutes late, but we arrived with a ham that was actually a ham, damn it.  And people loved it.  And the day was saved.  By Nathan.  Who is the best.


Just In Time for the Holidays

We have a Christmas Cactus in the office, and it's being pretty fabulous at the moment:
(murder cactus??)

But I promised excerpts!

Here's some of what I wrote today: the lead characters Gwen and Jeremy are starting to grow closer...
“Is that a Galaxie?”
“Um, yeah,” she automatically turned back toward it, suddenly embarrassed by the coat of dirt dulling its deep blue finish.  “It was my grandmother’s, and when she died it came to me.”
“Did she die recently, then?” Jeremy sauntered towards the vehicle, hands in his jean pockets.  Gwen, trying to keep herself from staring at the worn patches on his butt, took a few quick steps to bring herself abreast with him.
“Uh, no.  She died when I was eight, so nine years ago this past July.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Jeremy murmured.  “Did that have anything to do with your move to Frostfell?”
Gwen looked at him sharply, surprised he’d remembered such a small detail.  She sat on the hood of her car, and he followed suit.  “No, actually," she said.  "Well, I mean, we moved to Frostfell at her suggestion, but not because of her.  She died right after we got there, tho’.”
“Ah.”  Jeremy didn’t ask anything else, but Gwen found she wanted him to know more.
“We moved because of my dad- because he left us.  Grandma Pearl thought we’d never be able to move on with our lives if we stayed in a place to saturated with memories of him, and I guess Mom agreed, so we left.”
“You didn’t agree?”
“I wasn’t consulted.”  Gwen leaned back until she was laying flat against the hood, staring up at the clear blue sky.  She let the thoughts and feelings of the little girl she’d been flow through her.  “Right after we moved I was so pissed.  So fucking pissed.  And scared, really, but anger is easier, you know?”
Jeremy laid a hand over hers, but for once her focus wasn’t on the electric shock his touch sent through her system.
“I was… I just knew that Dad would come back for us, come back for me, but we wouldn’t be where he'd left us.  And when he saw we were gone, he’d leave again, for good this time.  And I’d never see him again, because he wouldn’t know where to find me, because my mom was being a selfish bitch.”
Warm fingers tightened over her own, and she found herself squeezing back.
“I know that’s not true, of course.  In my head, I know it.  He didn’t just leave Mom, he left us.  But… I don’t know.  Some feelings take root in your heart like a fucking weed, and no matter how many times you try to pull it out, some little bit remains, corrupting everything else, you know?”
She turned to look at Jeremy and found he was staring at her, eye bright and dark at the same time.  And then he leaned over, slowly, carefully, and pressed his lips to her cheek.  There was nothing overtly sexual about the gesture, but still her body surged with heat.
“I know I find you fascinating and inspiring,” he whispered in her ear.  “Most seventeen-year-olds would never consider putting even half as much thought into what makes them tick.”
Gwen turned her head until their noses were almost brushing.
“Well," she said softly, "I have to do something during mass.” And then she closed the fractional gap between them.


But I'm a Fun Guy!

Came across this on my walk today:
fascinating, but rather unfortunately unpleasant smelling
Anywho, I forgot to mention that I officially "won" NaNo back on Sunday afternoon, at least in terms of breaking 50k.  And I'm still on track for my, "write every day for 30 days" goal, too, so yay me!

I really feel like I've come into my own this year as a writer, in terms of being comfortable with and believing in my own process.  I no longer feel like a beginner just floundering around- I feel like a somewhat seasoned writer now, who is too wise for her Jerk Brain's sabotage.  I have the experience and the discipline to make this work- and I'm really passionate about this year's story.  Maybe I'll post some excerpts tomorrow... 


A Tangle of Wild Things

I need a new jewelry box


The Abduction

My aunt and uncle took us to see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra this evening.  They were performing The Christmas Attic.
you will be assimilated
I was pretty excited about it, but unfortunately ended up a bit less-than-impressed.  The musicians themselves were incredibly talented, and I enjoyed the hell out of it every time they were doing an instrumental arrangement.  The laser and pyrotechnic effects, too, were super freaking awesome, and I enjoyed the hell out of that, too.  And it's always fun to go do things with people who are passionate about those things- and TSO has an exceptionally passionate following, which meant the energy was really great.

So those were the good things.

The bad things were  more or less threefold: one, the music was too loud (if I have my ears physically plugged and the music is still too loud, your music is too fucking loud) and not properly balanced (the guitars almost totally drowned out the orchestra, which was particularly disappointing to this cello-lover); two, the animations were distractingly bad (very 90s-era CGI); three, these guys are in desperate need of a competent lyricist.  Every time there was narration, or an 'original' song was played, Nathan and I just gaped at one another over the terribleness of the lyrics.  At one point Nathan whispered, "Why do they keep using the word candle?" and I responded, "Say candle one more time!" and we dissolved into fits of giggles.  I also started mentally replacing the word "Christmas" with "Murder", which added interest back to the proceedings.  ("On this most holy murder eve, the spirit of murder speaks to us all here in the darkness of the murder attic...)

Nathan later pointed out that if only it had been in another language, one we didn't understand, we might have enjoyed it more, and I agree.  Because like I said- the music itself, and the overall performance were just fabulous... but not quite enough to make up for the rest of it.

On the bright side, I did get a fabulous idea for a creepy short story out of it, so maybe that will get posted later...


Our Secrets Lie in Wait

We went up to spend the day with my grandparents, which is always enjoyable, but it was an especially good time today because they both got in a story-telling mood after dinner.  For a long time neither one of them was really willing to talk about their childhoods (which weren't what you'd call "ideal" for either of them) but in the past decade or so they've begun opening up more and more.

I really need to start carrying some sort of recording device with me, to capture some of these stories, because they are equal parts delightful and terrible, but wholly entertaining.  I'd hate for them to be lost.
vixen scribe of the shadows


Return to Normal

The rains are back.
(thank heavens)
I'm having a very hard time feeling motivated right now.  I'm less than 5k away from hitting my NaNo goal of 50k words in 30 days, which technically I ought to be able to knock out this weekend, but the reality is that I'm feeling sulky and in need of a break.  But my other (personal) goal for NaNo was not to skip a single day of writing, sooo... sulkiness can suck it, I suppose.  Even if it's only 500 words, I need to churn it out.


Stupid discipline.

Speaking of which, I've been feeling like such utter crap lately, and today I was reading paleo success stories and realizing that I just need to get back to eating clean.  I feel so much better.  I look so much better.  Life is better when I'm not being lazy.  But not-being-lazy is so much harder than being lazy.  Whiiiiiiiiiiiine.

 Okay, enough of that.  Time to knuckle down and craft words.  500, at least.  2000 for the ideal.  Go O, Go!


A Vision in Copper

As promised:
see that computer?  work work work!
This is my favorite mug, because it is copper and lovely.  Unfortunately, being copper also means that it is a phenomenal conductor of thermal energy, and thus it sucks for hot beverages.  Boo.  So tonight I am drinking hot mulled cider cut with cold, ginger-flavored hard cider, and the temperature is juuuussssst right.

And now?  Back to NaNo!  I'm closing in on 44k, with ten days left to go.  By george, it's almost like practice makes easier...


Tangled in Amber

I have my favorite colors, I suppose, for jewelry and hair...
pretty things


Jack Was Here

The ice wasn't as bad this morning...
see, you can see the glass!

...but I still had to use my library card as a scraper.


A Two Cat Morning

It's been getting super cold and icy up in my 'hood, lately. and it's baffling us all.
see how confused they are?!
Normally November is cold, but not this cold.  Not ice cold.  Where is our rain, dagnabit?!

Anyway I am fortunate that I have lots of fuzzy creatures to snuggle with and keep the cold at bay.  (Plus extra blankets!)

I went to Powell's tonight, to go holiday shopping for my niblings (they all get books: that way I know they'll fit).  I'd forgotten just how pleasant it can be just to browse in a bookstore.  It made me miss my Borders day.


We Hold Our Traditions in Our Hands

Remember how yesterday I was all, "I have a lot of things on my To Do list this weekend"?  Well one of the biggest, fattest Do's on that list was baking my family's traditional Christmas cookies, which are German spritz cookies and unbelievably awesome.
my stupid cookie-press crapped out on me, so they are a different shape this year
It took over four hours to finish them all.  I sort of hate them now, just like I do every year.  (And that's exactly why I only do it once a year.)  But I will ship them out to family far and wide, and it will make them happy and reinforce our family ties, and that is a good thing.

Yay traditions!



I have a lot of things on my To Do list for this weekend...
This was one of them


You'll Never Sweep My Memory Clean

It is a very rare day that I post a photo with no processing.
Today is a rare day.



Today is the pig's birthday.
Unlike the other animals in our household, we know this for a fact.
I like tell people that my dog has done a great deal to prepare me for eventually having a kid, in that I love her and am glad I have her and wouldn't trade her for anything- but holy crap she is inconvenient and probably I'd never do it again.  Unless I was drunk.  I might totally bring home a french bulldog/second child if I were drunk.  They're just so little and cute!