| Getting Ready for the Weekend |
[Jul. 2nd, 2009|10:02 am] |
I can has new polka-dotted skirt :-) This is a good thing.
Massive thunderstorms here yesterday taught me that you can literally have the shit scared right out of you, particularly if you're a beagle puppy. Poor Max. He does not like storms, not at all. Apparently howling at the storm will make it better *grin*
Tim's put a new roof on the pavillion out back, hooray! If I had a laptop, that's where I'd be working...
My kitchen table is currently covered with jigsaw puzzles in process. I find myself singing Patsy Cline songs every time I pass through. No one is amused by this but me.
And that's it: I'm going to be offline over the holiday weekend. So be safe, don't do anything stupid, and remember: fireworks have no appropriate indoor application. |
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| Five Quick Things Make A Post |
[Jun. 30th, 2009|01:46 pm] |
One: Wow! I haven't been online in a while. This is remarkably good for me: I'm writing like a mad writing thing, and when I'm not doing that, I'm having summer with my girls. Last summer was lost to work, work, work...this year, we will have summer.
Two: Our lawn mower has finally officially given up. After five years and God alone knows how many bungee cords, off-label replacement parts, and motivational profanity from Tim, it is truly, truly dead. Five years out of a mower someone was giving away for scrap? Not bad at all. He's off finding a replacement mower now: we need one quickly, before the grass gets too tall and we lose Nadia in the yard.
Three: I've been reading some tremendous books, but they're all review books I can't talk about. This is INCREDIBLY frustrating, since there are some awesome quotes I want to share with you. I'm pondering writing them on my bathroom door in cobalt blue paint. (My bathroom door is winnie-the-pooh orange: this would look more attractive than you'd imagine)
Four: The garden is going like gangbusters: the news is full of stories about tomato blight and potato fungus, but we seem to have missed both. Max, on the other hand, may be the answer to "How do you keep the comfrey under control?" for verily, he's all but uprooted a patch that was 4' tall and a good 2' around.
Five: The dog literally ate my homework! For some reason unknown to God or man, the UPS man decided that the ideal place to leave the package is NOT by the door we use, and that they've seen us use, exclusively, for the past 4 years. Oh, no! One must maneuver around the accumulation of Tim-projects that litter the driveway, into the area where Max's runner ends (In case it rains, he can come inside) and leave the package there. Max, being Max, took this to mean that the package was obviously for him, and proceeded to eat it. I told you, he has a taste for literature! Now, if you were a UPS driver, and you had a choice of leaving the package by the door that has a beagle puppy joyously near it and the door that doesn't have a beagle puppy joyously near it, which one would you pick? |
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| Today's Random Question |
[Jun. 24th, 2009|09:40 am] |
If one was going to seek out GOOD music to belly-dance to, assuming one is a rank novice belly dancer, and will be accompanied by two children who are enthusiastic yet unskilled, what should one be looking for?
Or, if we're abandoning awkward phrasing morning: Good belly-dancing music recs, please! |
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| Wednesday Morning |
[Jun. 24th, 2009|07:53 am] |
Let's start off with the exciting news:
Recovery Ranch is out today! Here's a blurb:
Adam and Calvin are still living and loving on Calvin's ranch in back country Texas in this sequel to Recovery. Adam's time at the ranch has helped him a lot, and he and Calvin figure there must be other veterans who could use time on the ranch to find their own peace.
Before they can start, though, they need to get the ranch ready for the men who'll come to heal. They also need to deal with their own relationship as it grows and changes. Then there's Adam's father, who's none too happy to find out that his old friend has become his son's lover.
Will Calvin and Adam be able to survive their trials and tribulations and find the healing and peace they're looking for, not only for others, but for themselves as well?
And a review from the lovely, talented, super-duper Kiernan Kelly:
Kiernan Kelly, author of Two Spirits, writes: The December/May romance introduced in "Recovery" heats up in this long awaited sequel, which packs just as much of an emotional punch as its predecessor.
Calvin and Adam are back, and hard at work readying Calvin's ranch, not only for hunting tours, but also for a purpose much larger than bagging game -- healing the hearts and minds of soldiers fresh off their tours. Along the way, both men need to heal the hurts in their own lives, whether that includes mending fences or building them.
In "Recovery Ranch," CB Potts once again breathes such life into her characters that they seem too large for the pages. They leap up, big and bold as you please; living, breathing men whose love is as hard and hot as the hardscrabble Texas land their ranch sits on.
Everything's bigger in Texas, and if the boys of "Recovery Ranch" are any indication, everything there is hotter, sexier, and unforgettable, as well.
And finally, a sniblet:
A third of the way along, some two hundred and fifty yards or so, a small cloud of sand dented upward, grains of sand forming a half-helical arc in the heat. It was so hot that the tiny cloud appeared to waver, dancing like a miniature tornado.
Adam blinked. “Did you see that?” he asked. “Straight ahead!”
There was no reply, as a succession of tiny sand tornados began to form, each one a foot nearer to the convoy than its predecessor.
“Sniper!” The shout was loud, angry. “Two o’clock high!”
Adam whirled, yanking the heavy Browning machine gun around as fast as he could. “Where?” He couldn’t see anyone, but the shots were coming faster and faster. “Where the fuck is he?”
“High! He’s high!”
Adam looked up, searching for the tell-tale muzzle flash that would reveal the sniper’s position. He needed to see, needed to be sure, before he opened fire. There was too much risk otherwise -- risk of hurting civilians, risk of taking out kids. The orders were clear: identify your target before taking the shot.
“Davis!” Sergeant Moore shouted. “The tailor’s! The tailor’s!”
There he was! Crouched in the corner of the second story window over the tailor’s shop was a sniper -- no more than a kid, whip thin and wiry, with a rifle at his shoulder and another propped against the wall next to him.
Adam fired, the pressure on the trigger coming a scant-half second after Jerome Harris yelped, “Motherfucker! He got me!”
“No!” Adam cried. “No!” The M2 was firing non-stop, punctuating the side of the tailor’s building with high-speed death. “Not today! Not today!”
“Babe.” The voice was flat, firm. “Babe, stop it.”
It was Calvin. Calvin’s voice, unmistakable. Welcome.
Wrong. Wrong for Iraq. Calvin had never been overseas, never served time in the sand.
Adam blinked, blinked against the sudden darkness.
“Calvin?”
“I’m right here.” His lover was beside him, all warm skin and concern. “You were dreaming, babe.”
***
Other than that, it looks likely to be a busy day here at Chez CB: I've got lots of writing to do, not to mention blogging for dollars. Some relatively big announcements to share shortly, but I want to make sure that all the i's are dotted and all the t's are crossed before I squee. Nothing in this world is worse than premature squee. |
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| Tuesday Morning |
[Jun. 23rd, 2009|07:16 am] |
I'll be away from the office this morning, coming back for a relatively full afternoon. If the evening can be as spectacularly wonderful as last night was -- a stereotypically awesome day of bike rides and basketball, happy children being happy -- I will be well pleased.
Let's see if I truly am more productive without work right in front of me...many of you have recommended this, and I shall see if it works.
Onward, upward, forward! |
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| Monday Morning |
[Jun. 22nd, 2009|07:59 am] |
And I'm back -- taking a media break was much appreciated, and very likely to be repeated, exercise.
Some housekeeping first: I've changed the name of the journal. Chez CB is now Perpetual Cognitive Dissonance, rather that Steel Toed Bunny Slippers. A name should fit the moment: that's why I wish we could more easily shed identities and take on new ones as we move through life.
Second (for verily, I think this is going to be one of those five-things-make-a-post type of mornings!) it's a good day here at Chez CB. Harmony made high honor roll all four quarters, so we're off to the awards ceremony this morning to watch her get a plaque and some much deserved applause. My girl, she is a smarty-pants.
Third, this mostly of interest to local readers, ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) trants and fontsucker, another North Country 'celebrity' gets himself into hot water with child porn. The comments are not as awful as they could be, yet, but I'm sad about the number of people who say 'innocent until proven guilty' -- when IN THE STORY it says he's admitted to downloading and purchasing child porn.
Fourth, I turn to the LJ brain trust: how to I add a Paypal button to a LJ entry? I've searched the FAQ but find myself clueless. (Why, yes, there will be some cyberfunded publishing in my future, why do you ask?)
Fifth: Sensuality: Caramel Flava II
> is FINALLY out...I sent this story out in 2006 and had honestly, forgotten about it. But verily on Friday, the contributor's copies arrived.
For those of you who read traditional romance, here's a sniblet from my story Alibi (SFW, cut for length!)
( Alibi )
And from here, it's time to go! Onward, upward, forward! |
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| Happy Father's Day |
[Jun. 21st, 2009|06:04 am] |
A Happy Father's Day to all the Dads on my Flist. One of the things I love most about LJ is reading your stories about your kids and the adventures and misadventures all y'all get into. May you enjoy your macaroni toys and breakfasts-in-bed today!
 
Comments by ZingerBug.com |
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| Taking A Break |
[Jun. 15th, 2009|07:45 am] |
I wish I had something eloquent or profound to say here, but I don't. My head hurts, my heart is heavy -- and I've been counseling everyone and their best friend that those are signs that it's time to take a break and concentrate on what makes you happy (or at least functional).
It's time to take my own advice. I'm battening down for a while, to center, regroup, and focus on finding what makes me happy (or at least functional). Posting will be sparse -- or non-existent -- for a while, while my batteries recharge. I'm afraid I won't be reading much either: it's not that I don't love you (some of you are my very dearest friends) but I'm not only out of spoons, I'm out of forks, knives -- all of the cutlery is gone, and the china is smashed upon the floor. Please be well: if you need-need me, email me or call.
If my silence is unbearable, please feel free to unfriend -- I will not take it amiss.
I trust that Story and the North Country will work their magic, and in time I will be better. Until then, don't do anything I wouldn't do.
Comments screened. |
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| A very neat meme |
[Jun. 12th, 2009|07:44 am] |
From the very neat cypherindigo
posted this earlier today "This is a rather complex meme stemming from friends’ discussions, prompted by a This American Life podcast called “This I Used To Believe”, about changed ideas and philosophies: what people no longer thought or felt, and why."
( It may be way too early in the morning for this ) |
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| Gruntle Hunting |
[Jun. 11th, 2009|07:42 am] |
I've been a little disgruntled lately. (For a little disgruntled, read: There is a line of burning cities in my wake, a terrestrial birthday cake...) And I'm tired of being disgruntled. Being disgruntled is hard work, particularly when you're as good at it as I am.
And so verily, this morning, I decided to go gruntle hunting. For verily, that should get my ass back in a good mood.
It SHOULD have started well: Tim left to go do a side job, Harmony got her own self up and out of bed without histrionics. Nadia is still Nadia, alas: the morning lark gene skipped her entirely.
I swept the kitchen, did a load of wash, cleaned about 25% of my office, pontificated on professional interpersonal relationships (here's a hint: whatever I would do, DO THE OPPOSITE, lest you too lose your gruntles), and then opened my email to find a steaming pile of horseshit of my own professional interpersonal relationships.
Ah, gruntles, where are you?
So I read the entire thing, and rejoiced in my knowledge that nonsense continues, even if I don't participate in it. Humanity, inexplicable, takes no regard of what I think of it.
I think we should all be rather glad of that.
Anyway: the kids still needed to get ready, and the washer was done, and so I went downstairs and vaccumed the living room and got the kids to at least touch the toothbrush/hairbrush and then it was time to hang the laundry.
And LO!!!! The washer is full of about four inches of water, in addition to the bathing suits and towels.
After giving my profanity-laced thanks to the irony gods, I fixed the washer, got the clothes in the basket, and took the sodden, heavy mass o' laundry out to hang.
That's where I discovered dear darling Max has been running through the lupins: he is their own personal Hurricane Katrina. I don't know if they're recoverable: Max's faith in me as "Gentle Provider of Kibble" may definitely not be.
But there's no use crying over devastated lupins...the comfrey, on the other hand, is indestructible: if you need a three and a half foot tall fuzzy prickly plant with marginally attractive flowers and medicinally useful leaves, comfrey's your plant of choice.
Digression!
Anyway, back to hanging up the laundry, which one must first wring, resulting in splashing puddles all over the place, the clothes line sagging like the spine of a thirty year old mare.And the school bus came: the ornate hand-waving, kiss flinging departure of my children did restore some of my gruntles, and now, I've got a solid eight hours of nit-picky behind the scenes work to do.
I've been seriously pondering retirement, I was saying to myself, hanging out the clothes this morning, but perhaps it is premature. I've got this pair of gruntles here, and I'm sure that'll get me through the morning. |
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| In Which Cranky Cindy Is Cranky |
[Jun. 10th, 2009|07:51 am] |
Attempting to read my friend's page this morning, and an annoying quiz ad keeps popping up, inviting me to find out if I'm smarter than -- well, I don't know if I'm in competition with a fifth grader, the great unwashed masses, or people generally unable to resist internet quizzes -- but I presume the competition doesn't actually matter. The real point here is the value of interstitial ads. As much as I love effective advertising, and god knows I do, interstitials bug the shit out of me.
I imagine I'm not alone in that opinion.
Yet companies keep using them. Either they work -- I've seen arguments on both sides of the fence here, and a few great ones that sat squarely atop the fence -- or organizations just enjoy irritating their target market.
Or I don't understand their target market. That could be true. The world is FULL of people I don't understand.
Like the cop who tased the 72 year old grandmother, a story all over the news this morning. Or the 72 year old grandmother, for conducting herself in such a fashion as to get herself tased.
Or myself, for thinking, 72 and only a grandmother? Here, you can be a grandmother before you're 40. I'm a particularly old parent: nothing brings that home like family swim, where the parents of my children's contemporaries are talking about planning the 'Big 3-0' birthday celebrations.
I am disgruntled with state government at the moment, irritated with myself for conducting happiness experts and waking up saying, "How happy do I choose to be today?" and hear myself answer "That depends how many souls I can crush before noon: Ragnor SMASH!"
There are all these notes I've got scrawled about the role of what I call (for verily, it probably has a proper name, but damned if I know what it is) the metatextural reference in contemporary literature -- and why it's a deplorable betrayal of Story: talking about the story you're writing as you're writing it in this snide, third voice means that the story in and of itself is either not good enough -- or it verges on being so good that it scares you, and you're not going to trust it to take you where you need to go -- and in your authorial wisdom, you have decided that since you're scared, your readers must also be scared and need that reality-tether, that safety line, reattaching their selves back to terra firma. You are afraid to brave the rapids, so no one else can take that raft ride either.
And I look at these notes, and I think, Wow, I'd be a pendantic twit if I had more education, and also, there are days I like meta-textural references and god knows they show up in my own work on occasion, and verily, why is it the fault we have ourselves that arouses so much rage when we see it in others?
I should look for the good things. I spent a delicious day yesterday, writing Pariah, and once I get the morning work done, and the rain holds of, I'm going back out to write some more. And I think that's what I need to be doing. I'm going to write this book, and then another book, and another, ad infinitum and the hell with the rest of it. I have so many projects hovering between 40-60% done and it is time to just get shit done, done, done.
After that, who knows?
After that, who cares?
Maybe I'll take up competitive navel gazing. I have aptitude. All I need is a sponsor. |
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| Fishing: Cheaper than Therapy |
[Jun. 6th, 2009|04:51 pm] |
Actual, I don't know if that's true. The few times I've been to a therapist, I always wind up making them feel better about themselves...
The fish, however, aren't pleased. Harmony caught the first fish of our season, a behemoth Sunny, and Tim, in a feat previously thought by all to be impossible, caught a clam (mussel? some kind of shellfish) It had latched on to his sinker, much to our collective astonishment. Gigantic frogs, the water lilies in the swampy areas were about to bloom, canary yellow in the midst of so much green.
A good way to spend the morning. Later on, we'll have bbq -- the potatoes are cooling for potato and egg salad; banana bread has been made for dessert.
I like Saturdays :-) |
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| A message from Harmony |
[Jun. 5th, 2009|07:58 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  giggly | ] |
Hi everybody... its me Harmony!! So far today has gone okay..... it was weird watching the nursing videos today!! I have to interview my mom today! 10 QUESTIONS!!!!!!!!!!! ok bye 4 now! |
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| Take Your Kid to Work Day |
[Jun. 5th, 2009|06:32 am] |
It is 'take your kid to work' day today, so I've got Harmony here with me today :-) Not yet, as we're still in the 'you still have to get up and get ready, if you're going to work instead of school' phase of the day -- but I wanted to give a heads up about why things might be scarce in these parts today.
Also? Max chews ON BOOKS. He's demolished the corner of "One Minute Service", which I picked up at BEA. I'm not sure if that's a particularly positive endorsement...the end papers, however, are clearly very tasty. And all things being equal, I should have pictures of him shortly to show y'all. |
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| Five Quick Things Make A Post |
[Jun. 4th, 2009|08:04 am] |
1. For I am running out the door: Nadia is Student of the Month and she is getting an award.
2. Here's a review of Gotz and Meyer by David Albahari
3. Say these folks at Book Expo and were impressed as hell with them. Kiki Magazine is great for teen and pre-teen girls. They accept no advertising, have a very positive and inclusive approach to fashion and body types, and the content isn't all "Looks, looks, looks!" Harmony loves it because "There's actually stuff to do and neat ideas!" $26 for a quarterly.
4. Max is apparently part kangaroo: he BOUNDS through the air.
5. I'm out of time to think of a fifth thing! |
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| Want to see a sea monster? |
[Jun. 4th, 2009|07:43 am] |
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Here is some video which may or may not be Champ . Champ is the Lake Champlain monster, rumored to be a plesiosaur, a sturgeon (we have sturgeon in the lake here, and they are HUGE: easily growing to be 6-7 feet long, and looking like a prehistoric bad idea), or sheer imagination. People are saying it's a dog or a moose -- Tim is of the opinion it's a moose, and frankly, I can't see well enough to tell WHAT it is. But maybe you'd like to check it out. |
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| Wednesday Morning : Culture War Casualties |
[Jun. 3rd, 2009|07:45 am] |
I've been thinking a lot about the George Tiller killing (here is a link to a CBS news story about it) and the various reactions people are having. Personally, I don't believe the culture war ever really goes away: it waxes and wanes, and I think there is a direct (if inverse) relationship between economic circumstance and the passion people bring to the fighting. For the most part, the hard-core culture war contingent functions on the fringes of society (in all directions: there is a progressive fringe, there is a conservative fringe, etc) But when a system is stressed, those fringes swell. They gain members, or at least sympathizers, because everyone eventually feels threatened enough to take action, and these are threatening times. Buoyed up by apparent masses of supporters, a feeling of impending doom, and inflammatory rhetoric, the actions come -- and it is not inaccurate to classify George Tiller's killing as an act of war.
And I'm curious. Not about where you stand, particularly, in the culture war, or if you even believe that there is a culture war or this is all just media speculation, hype and hyperbole. I think there is an element of media top-dressing going on, but I also know tons of people who would have quite happily killed Dr. Tiller themselves. Even if you don't believe there's a culture war, they really do.
What I want to know is who is going to win? I'm not sure exactly how one defines victory in a culture war: was the Taliban victorious, at least for a time? The Tamil Tigers? The hippies at Woodstock? Glasnost? What does this mean? Where are we all going? What is our future?
I'd like for this post to be discussion oriented, rather than a kick-boxing free for all. I'm never going to learn if I don't ask you questions. Everyone has a unique individual answer, and if you want to share it, I'm going to read it.
And for non-US readers, I apologize for not being particularly well informed about culture conflicts where you are. Maybe your experiences can help me better understand what is going on here. |
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| Tuesday Morning |
[Jun. 2nd, 2009|10:16 am] |
First things first, I'd like to bring your attention to this interview with Dr. Robert Holden, in the Journal of Nursing Jocularity . You have to register, but registration is free -- and the article is likely to be of interest to folks who aren't nurses, too. Dr. Holden is an expert on happiness, something we all need more of.
And speaking of happiness, I'd like to announce we have a new addition to our family. We've been joined by Max the Beagle, who is eleven months old, and as cute as a button. He's slightly bigger than your average beagle, and has bonded with Tim: Tim can't take a step without Max following along behind him :-)
I'll be breaking my Book Expo commentary into several small bits, as I'm not overwhelmed with free time at the moment. There's so much to process about this trip: NYC seems designed to prove the absolute irrelevance of any one individual. I spent much of my time there reminded of chickens, and pondering why people chose to live where they do.
There are some things I will clearly never understand. There, the razor wire and broken glass bottles atop the courtyard walls are meant to keep people out. Here, we use those things to keep people in.
But there are things in NY that simply aren't, here, as well. Sushi restaurants are a prime example: having been introduced for the first time to 'real' sushi & sashimi, I am quite definitely a convert.
And the Book Expo itself was very neat. Highlights include meeting norda and bunnyjadwiga in person, which was great. China Mieville was there, in a panel with John Ringo (who I'd only known from the Oh John Ringo No! meme, and boy, what an apt introduction THAT is) and Kelly Link, from Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet, that I attended, and that was pretty darn awesome. I almost stepped on Doctor Ruth, who is older, shorter, and more gracious than you ever imagined. Best of all were the conversations, which I need to write about at some length shortly.
Also, I got to have a panic attack in the bathroom, with a very nice lady from the Library of Congress. BEA is a little on the overwhelming side -- and the conference rooms, where I was watching Chris Brogan expound on social media (he's a lovely presenter, btw) are designed to bring out the claustrophobic, paranoid, I can't breathe side of anyone.
More anon. Work beckons, pretty loudly. Onward, upward, forward! |
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