Those of you that read my novel online (and yes, I'm sorry that I haven't updated it in a while. I've been writing it.), who is your favorite and least favorite character? Right now there's the four main ones: Lunai, pendis, Darcy and Jared, and then there's Sarah Harper. There are more of them, but unfortunately they aren't in the currently posted version. I just want to know so that I can decide who to focus on more when I start editing it and even while I'm being a Lean Mean writing Machine in the next while. Those of you that haven't yet read what there is so far of my novel, it's here.
How do you cast your vote? Just post it in a comment, and I'll keep tally here. please, it only takes a minute or two to click the 'comments' button at the bottom of the post, click 'post a comment', and then type the name and (if you want) why you do/don't like them. It will help me tons and tons, though.
Thanks!
MistWeaver.
Sunday, November 28, 2004
Bah.
Well, I'm something like 15 ooo words away from 50k. Needless to say, I'll be writing for a very long time tonight and tomorrow. I'm only taking a break so that I don't kill something.
By the way, 'Christmas With The Kranks' is a fucking AWFUL movie. There's one or two funny parts, and a totally awesome kid named Spike, but that's about it.
About my weekend: Later.
And I KNOW that the pictures don't work. My photo-hosting server has a rotating URL so the hyperlink only works for about ten minutes. I'll fix it some other time. If one more freaking person comes up to me and goes 'Yeah, your pictures aren't there", then I'll fucking kill them. I fucking swear, I will.
Jeez, I sound like Eminem. Am I stressed out? You fucking betcha. My calming music is helping, though. If you're ever really stressed out or mad, download 'In perfect Harmony' by Within Temptation. They're not available in Canada, so I feel no guilt whatsoever in downloading their music. When I save up enough, I'm buying all their albums from... Finland, was it? I forgot.
Woo. I am at peace.
This one's for all you smokers out there, though. Quit. Now. I know you've tried, or you've heard it, but please stop. I'm fucking sick of choking to death on disgusting-smelling smoke. My mother used to smoke like 2 packs a day. Then she quit. Then we moved here. Now she smokes cigars. Brian, the semi family member that lives with us occasionally (long story). He smokes. I hate it. I hate being in the car with him. I hate being in the basement with him, when he's smoking. I can't breathe. I hate it.
My best friend now smokes. She lives far away but she's probably going to come and visit for a month next summer. And live in my room. I don't want her to come visit so much anymore because she smokes. I can remember how we'd give each other hugs and inhale deeply because we each thought the other smelled wonderful. Do I want to do that anymore? Fuck no.
I'm surrounded by smokers. Yet I've still managed to survive this long without joining myself. Tempted? You betcha. Resisted? Easily. Do you think I deserve to die from secondhand smoke because I never chose to start smoking myself? Fuck no. I don't. I used to want to die around the age of 25. I'm no longer depressed, thankfully, and I don't anymore. Do I still deserve to die young after finally figuring out that life's worth living? And what about the other millions of non-smokers out there?
When I spoke harshly in the car on the way back from the theatre with Mama and Brian on the stupidity of smoking and how they didn't even have the courtesy of trying not to smoke around non-smokers (some do but most don't, in my experience), Brian got all pissy and snapped "Well then don't drive because that pollutes way more."
Yes, it does. But does driving accomplish something? You betcha. When you live in the country and it's winter 8/12 months, you need to be able to drive. What does smoking accomplish? Lets you be just like millions of other people in the world? Wow, you must feel real special. Besides, there are things you can do to help car pollution. In Montreal, I live on public transportation. In the country, there is none, so I take the bus to school and carpool as much as possible. When I (finally) get my liscense, I'm going to try as much as possible not to put excess pollution in the air. I decided that ages ago. Whaddaya know? I decided it around the same time I decided not to smoke.
How did this come up, you ask? It came up on the discussion of Ontario's new tobacco policy. Within two years, they're going to have no smoking in any public place, which means basically everywhere but private residences. Also, they can no longer display tobacco. That means that instead of huge walls or displays full of different kinds of smokes, they're all hidden in a back room and you have to ask for them. This will help a lot, I thought. Mama disagreed. She said that it's great that they're trying, but the government gets too much money from tobacco for it to be effective. I agree, but it pissed me off. What the fuck is wrong with our world?
And with that question, I'm off to write some more.
Bye.
MistWeaver
By the way, 'Christmas With The Kranks' is a fucking AWFUL movie. There's one or two funny parts, and a totally awesome kid named Spike, but that's about it.
About my weekend: Later.
And I KNOW that the pictures don't work. My photo-hosting server has a rotating URL so the hyperlink only works for about ten minutes. I'll fix it some other time. If one more freaking person comes up to me and goes 'Yeah, your pictures aren't there", then I'll fucking kill them. I fucking swear, I will.
Jeez, I sound like Eminem. Am I stressed out? You fucking betcha. My calming music is helping, though. If you're ever really stressed out or mad, download 'In perfect Harmony' by Within Temptation. They're not available in Canada, so I feel no guilt whatsoever in downloading their music. When I save up enough, I'm buying all their albums from... Finland, was it? I forgot.
Woo. I am at peace.
This one's for all you smokers out there, though. Quit. Now. I know you've tried, or you've heard it, but please stop. I'm fucking sick of choking to death on disgusting-smelling smoke. My mother used to smoke like 2 packs a day. Then she quit. Then we moved here. Now she smokes cigars. Brian, the semi family member that lives with us occasionally (long story). He smokes. I hate it. I hate being in the car with him. I hate being in the basement with him, when he's smoking. I can't breathe. I hate it.
My best friend now smokes. She lives far away but she's probably going to come and visit for a month next summer. And live in my room. I don't want her to come visit so much anymore because she smokes. I can remember how we'd give each other hugs and inhale deeply because we each thought the other smelled wonderful. Do I want to do that anymore? Fuck no.
I'm surrounded by smokers. Yet I've still managed to survive this long without joining myself. Tempted? You betcha. Resisted? Easily. Do you think I deserve to die from secondhand smoke because I never chose to start smoking myself? Fuck no. I don't. I used to want to die around the age of 25. I'm no longer depressed, thankfully, and I don't anymore. Do I still deserve to die young after finally figuring out that life's worth living? And what about the other millions of non-smokers out there?
When I spoke harshly in the car on the way back from the theatre with Mama and Brian on the stupidity of smoking and how they didn't even have the courtesy of trying not to smoke around non-smokers (some do but most don't, in my experience), Brian got all pissy and snapped "Well then don't drive because that pollutes way more."
Yes, it does. But does driving accomplish something? You betcha. When you live in the country and it's winter 8/12 months, you need to be able to drive. What does smoking accomplish? Lets you be just like millions of other people in the world? Wow, you must feel real special. Besides, there are things you can do to help car pollution. In Montreal, I live on public transportation. In the country, there is none, so I take the bus to school and carpool as much as possible. When I (finally) get my liscense, I'm going to try as much as possible not to put excess pollution in the air. I decided that ages ago. Whaddaya know? I decided it around the same time I decided not to smoke.
How did this come up, you ask? It came up on the discussion of Ontario's new tobacco policy. Within two years, they're going to have no smoking in any public place, which means basically everywhere but private residences. Also, they can no longer display tobacco. That means that instead of huge walls or displays full of different kinds of smokes, they're all hidden in a back room and you have to ask for them. This will help a lot, I thought. Mama disagreed. She said that it's great that they're trying, but the government gets too much money from tobacco for it to be effective. I agree, but it pissed me off. What the fuck is wrong with our world?
And with that question, I'm off to write some more.
Bye.
MistWeaver
Thursday, November 25, 2004
MY SUNRISE
Since I've gotten pictures up and running, I'm going on a pickie posting spree. My sunrise is here! I'm not sure how big the picture's gonna be on blog, but in the two top corners should be the blue of Lunai's eyes and the gold, of course, is the other colour in them.
::EDIT:: I've turned it into a link, instead. And as much as possible from now on, I'm going to have a 'Mood: XX' with a thumbnail pickie beside it.
No Title Today, Folks
Since most of you are most likely wondering why I haven't written in the past couple of days, I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count. I was busy. And now I shall continue where I left off, after skipping all of last week and going straight to last weekend and this week. Bec's coming over tomorrow so I probably won't be posting.
Okay. Last weekend. On Friday, we went to Lethbridge. Me and Mama, that is. It's about a two-hour drive, not too bad. We (meaning I) talked the entire way. Didn't get lost, checked in all right to the motel... Relaxed, then went and set up at the show. It was from 3 til 10, and Ava volunteered to work the first shift.
Mama and I went to eat at a Chinese place, and had a nice time talking (and eating). Then we returned and I took the next shift, while Mama and Ava went... wherever mothers go on their spare time, I guess. The woman next to us was selling light switch covers. Original, I must say. Mama got one for me (kinda), and put it away for presumably Christmas or something. I kept working til ten, when it closes. We went back to the motel and collapsed, utterly at peace. We relaxed, and read, and relaxed some more. The next morning Ava said we could sleep in and she'd open up, so we did. Read some more, then headed down to the show. Once again I took over for Ava and nher and Mama disappeared. Saturday was only 10 - 5, so I didn't have to work as long. Ava and Mama eventually came back, and I bought some soap from a cica vendor. Ava gave me the last of her silver bangles as half my pay, so now I have 7 bangles instead of one. They sound lovely whenever they move and clink together, and they're so much more delicate than the one I had already (an old family heirloom). Packing up, me and Mama returned to the hotel to relax until dinner at an Italian place with Ava's mother and her.
Lords, that was the best time I've had in ages and ages. We talked, we ate, we laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more. I haven't laughed that much in months. I think we scared a lot of people, though.
You know what? None of us cared. Three generations of women (Ava's mum's 72), and all of us free-spirited and free-minded. Tis enough to drive anyone listening absolutely mad! Those are the real fun times. Just simple enjoyments, like laughing. People these days spend so much time worrying and working and scurrying about that we forget to just sit back and enjoy life sometimes. That was the reason I enjoyed last weekend so much. I didn't get any writing done, I didn't work at all, but I don't care, or have any regrets. I needed the vay-cay as much as Mama did. And it was a real vay-cay. Short, and we didn't go too far, but it was wonderful. Simply wonderful.
The next day, I had a bath.
Please withhold your gasps of alarm. I do take showers every day, but I never take baths, mostly because my bathroom light goes off after half an hour. Occasionally I go into Mama and Papa's bathroom to take a bath, but they're usually busy so I don't bother.
Oh, the joys of bathing!
Actually, even showering there was awesome. My bathroom is a disaster area, and I have to freeze my butt off every morning in the time after my shower where I run to my room butt-naked to get my towel, hanging on its hook. Luckily, I'm the only one awake at this time of morning so it only traumatizes me, from the cold. In the motel this isn't a problem. Nor do I have to sleep on my floor because my futon is covered in stuff. I sleep in a clean fresh bed with clean fresh pillows and I dry off IN the bathroom with clean fresh towels. Don't get waken up by my stereo turning on ultra-loud with that damned song that sends adreline pumping through my veins even when I'm not asleep, either. And no brother. No father. No friends. No freaking people bugging me every second, or calling, or...
I love my friends and family. I really do. But they're a source for mucho stress. There's one person who I wouldn't mind calling at all hours... But he's a different story. One that shall not be told here and now.
All things come to an end, unfortunately. We eventually had to leave. After a visit from Ava and a bone-crushing hug goodbye (I really miss Ava when she's not visiting. I wasn't kidding when I said that she rocks), we departed. A quick stop at A&W for food, but that's it. The vay-cay was over.
I could feel Mama getting more tense with every mile. Neither of us was eager to be getting back home. We ended up stopping at the Round Up Center for Taboo, the 'Naughty but Nice Sex Show'. A woman in my Glassblowing class, Barbie, was selling stuff from her clothing store (The Barbie Shop) there, and she gave us all free tickets. Bonus, because they were 15 bucks each. As usual, I didn't even get stopped or carded (can you believe that Jared says I don't look close to 18? Shows what he knows :^P) , and we spent a couple of hours there.
Another great time was had. Before you ask, it wasn't a pornographic type of thing. There was no one getting it on for everyone to see on stage or anything. It was more like a fair: lots of vendors, with contests and fashion shows and stuff like that. I got a mega awesome boa, too! But best of all: we had a great time. By the time we left, Mama was laughing again. And that is why I'd thank Barbie on my hands and knees for the tickets.
After that, our adventure was truly over. We stopped at a bank so that I could deposit the money Ava had paid me, and then headed home. The first thing I did was call Bec and tell her all about it. I wish we could have brought her along, but of course her mother'd have a hissy fit. I'm lucky I see her at all outside of school. It really sucks. All of my favorite people, I'm not allowed to see. Or at the very least, it's difficult. Becca's mother's psycho, Will's parents are racists, Inga's stepfather's against anything that will make her happy (like seeing her best friend).
But when I called, it was great. We chatted in that high-speed shorthand way that no one but us understands, and had a blast. Laughing, talking... More simple pleasures.
And then, as it inevitably does, Monday came.
Love and Harmony,
MistWeaver
Okay. Last weekend. On Friday, we went to Lethbridge. Me and Mama, that is. It's about a two-hour drive, not too bad. We (meaning I) talked the entire way. Didn't get lost, checked in all right to the motel... Relaxed, then went and set up at the show. It was from 3 til 10, and Ava volunteered to work the first shift.
Mama and I went to eat at a Chinese place, and had a nice time talking (and eating). Then we returned and I took the next shift, while Mama and Ava went... wherever mothers go on their spare time, I guess. The woman next to us was selling light switch covers. Original, I must say. Mama got one for me (kinda), and put it away for presumably Christmas or something. I kept working til ten, when it closes. We went back to the motel and collapsed, utterly at peace. We relaxed, and read, and relaxed some more. The next morning Ava said we could sleep in and she'd open up, so we did. Read some more, then headed down to the show. Once again I took over for Ava and nher and Mama disappeared. Saturday was only 10 - 5, so I didn't have to work as long. Ava and Mama eventually came back, and I bought some soap from a cica vendor. Ava gave me the last of her silver bangles as half my pay, so now I have 7 bangles instead of one. They sound lovely whenever they move and clink together, and they're so much more delicate than the one I had already (an old family heirloom). Packing up, me and Mama returned to the hotel to relax until dinner at an Italian place with Ava's mother and her.
Lords, that was the best time I've had in ages and ages. We talked, we ate, we laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more. I haven't laughed that much in months. I think we scared a lot of people, though.
You know what? None of us cared. Three generations of women (Ava's mum's 72), and all of us free-spirited and free-minded. Tis enough to drive anyone listening absolutely mad! Those are the real fun times. Just simple enjoyments, like laughing. People these days spend so much time worrying and working and scurrying about that we forget to just sit back and enjoy life sometimes. That was the reason I enjoyed last weekend so much. I didn't get any writing done, I didn't work at all, but I don't care, or have any regrets. I needed the vay-cay as much as Mama did. And it was a real vay-cay. Short, and we didn't go too far, but it was wonderful. Simply wonderful.
The next day, I had a bath.
Please withhold your gasps of alarm. I do take showers every day, but I never take baths, mostly because my bathroom light goes off after half an hour. Occasionally I go into Mama and Papa's bathroom to take a bath, but they're usually busy so I don't bother.
Oh, the joys of bathing!
Actually, even showering there was awesome. My bathroom is a disaster area, and I have to freeze my butt off every morning in the time after my shower where I run to my room butt-naked to get my towel, hanging on its hook. Luckily, I'm the only one awake at this time of morning so it only traumatizes me, from the cold. In the motel this isn't a problem. Nor do I have to sleep on my floor because my futon is covered in stuff. I sleep in a clean fresh bed with clean fresh pillows and I dry off IN the bathroom with clean fresh towels. Don't get waken up by my stereo turning on ultra-loud with that damned song that sends adreline pumping through my veins even when I'm not asleep, either. And no brother. No father. No friends. No freaking people bugging me every second, or calling, or...
I love my friends and family. I really do. But they're a source for mucho stress. There's one person who I wouldn't mind calling at all hours... But he's a different story. One that shall not be told here and now.
All things come to an end, unfortunately. We eventually had to leave. After a visit from Ava and a bone-crushing hug goodbye (I really miss Ava when she's not visiting. I wasn't kidding when I said that she rocks), we departed. A quick stop at A&W for food, but that's it. The vay-cay was over.
I could feel Mama getting more tense with every mile. Neither of us was eager to be getting back home. We ended up stopping at the Round Up Center for Taboo, the 'Naughty but Nice Sex Show'. A woman in my Glassblowing class, Barbie, was selling stuff from her clothing store (The Barbie Shop) there, and she gave us all free tickets. Bonus, because they were 15 bucks each. As usual, I didn't even get stopped or carded (can you believe that Jared says I don't look close to 18? Shows what he knows :^P) , and we spent a couple of hours there.
Another great time was had. Before you ask, it wasn't a pornographic type of thing. There was no one getting it on for everyone to see on stage or anything. It was more like a fair: lots of vendors, with contests and fashion shows and stuff like that. I got a mega awesome boa, too! But best of all: we had a great time. By the time we left, Mama was laughing again. And that is why I'd thank Barbie on my hands and knees for the tickets.
After that, our adventure was truly over. We stopped at a bank so that I could deposit the money Ava had paid me, and then headed home. The first thing I did was call Bec and tell her all about it. I wish we could have brought her along, but of course her mother'd have a hissy fit. I'm lucky I see her at all outside of school. It really sucks. All of my favorite people, I'm not allowed to see. Or at the very least, it's difficult. Becca's mother's psycho, Will's parents are racists, Inga's stepfather's against anything that will make her happy (like seeing her best friend).
But when I called, it was great. We chatted in that high-speed shorthand way that no one but us understands, and had a blast. Laughing, talking... More simple pleasures.
And then, as it inevitably does, Monday came.
Love and Harmony,
MistWeaver
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Aya: Working for a Living and Still Sleeping In Late!
Time for Saturday's rant. Or rather, the rant about Saturday. In a few words: I slept in. Yes, I did. The show started at 10 AM, and I woke up at 10 30. Oops, much? Luckily this was because I turned my stereo low (I didn't want to be woken up at 6 30 AM) and Mama + Ava didn't bother to wake me up. So I relaxed, took a shower, ate, and then walked over. I mean, it was only at the other end of Redwood and exercise = good. I should do more of it. If I had motivation then I would, too.
When I go there it was packed. More than packed. Squished tight. The room was a large rectangle and the vendors were all along the wall facing in and in a smaller rectangle in the middle of the room facing out. The entrance was at the bottom left and we were in the smaller rectangle in the top right corner. There was only a small aisle between the outer and inner vendors and it was packed. The crowd seemed to be going mainly clockwise. So you see, going with the crowd was going was gonna take a lot longer and a whole lot more patience than the other way. Therefore, of course, I took one look at the room, went 'screw this' and waded through the opposite direction. Mama and Ava were very surprised to see me and even more surprised that I had walked. A teenager? Willingly get exercise? Perish the thought!
They got over the shock quickly though, and departed, leaving me to face the masses of people that didn't seem to want to buy a damned thing. It was a boring and lonely job (since I was alone), but hey. I was getting paid and I'm supposedly a good salesperson. I daydreamed of him magically showing up and talking to me, or even Becca. Hell, anyone I knew and liked would have been welcome. Stefan (a friend of mine)'s mother Sabine had a booth, but he had work and so was nowhere to be found. Will Stelfox, an acquaintance but not close friend, said hi. That was it. Oh, yeah. The awesomely nice people in the booth across from ours (and incidentally the only other black people at the entire show, vendor or otherwise) came over and chitchatted when the crowd thinned and we were all bored out of our wits, too. Unlike us, they had sold like crazy both days. I suppose it's the market. Everyone loves wreaths and glowing things and handmade Christmas/Winter decorations. Creekers and Meadow-ers don't really do the whole original , 'different' artistic jewelry thing. Especially Tribal art. Cowboys and Western? Yeah. But African and Tribal? Fuck no. And don't deny it, Creekers! You know it's so true. Hell Albertans, period.
With a couple of stop-ins by Mama and Ava, the day passed and it was eventually five o'clock. We covered our stuff and took off. I wrote, and did various other things upstairs because Brian's computer was on the blitz. There was a NaNoWriMo meet-up at Boston Pizza at 6 30, but I had figured that no one would want to drive me so soon after the show. Turns out that someone could most likely have driven me, but hey. Ya can't have it all.
That night, like the night before (did I forget to mention this?) I stayed up and wrote til 2 30 or 3 am, determined to get those 3000 words in. I borrowed Papa's laptop and did it downstairs on the couch and later the floor, with the help of caffeine.
Caffeine. Dontcha just love it? I didn't drink it at all before this November, not for many years. Herbal tea was my Goddess.
Love.
MistWeaver.
PS. The rest of the week'll ave to wait cuz I'm hungry and tired. I'm gonna bed. My slacking off ends at Midnight and that's in an hour so I'd like to be sleeping by then, thanks.
When I go there it was packed. More than packed. Squished tight. The room was a large rectangle and the vendors were all along the wall facing in and in a smaller rectangle in the middle of the room facing out. The entrance was at the bottom left and we were in the smaller rectangle in the top right corner. There was only a small aisle between the outer and inner vendors and it was packed. The crowd seemed to be going mainly clockwise. So you see, going with the crowd was going was gonna take a lot longer and a whole lot more patience than the other way. Therefore, of course, I took one look at the room, went 'screw this' and waded through the opposite direction. Mama and Ava were very surprised to see me and even more surprised that I had walked. A teenager? Willingly get exercise? Perish the thought!
They got over the shock quickly though, and departed, leaving me to face the masses of people that didn't seem to want to buy a damned thing. It was a boring and lonely job (since I was alone), but hey. I was getting paid and I'm supposedly a good salesperson. I daydreamed of him magically showing up and talking to me, or even Becca. Hell, anyone I knew and liked would have been welcome. Stefan (a friend of mine)'s mother Sabine had a booth, but he had work and so was nowhere to be found. Will Stelfox, an acquaintance but not close friend, said hi. That was it. Oh, yeah. The awesomely nice people in the booth across from ours (and incidentally the only other black people at the entire show, vendor or otherwise) came over and chitchatted when the crowd thinned and we were all bored out of our wits, too. Unlike us, they had sold like crazy both days. I suppose it's the market. Everyone loves wreaths and glowing things and handmade Christmas/Winter decorations. Creekers and Meadow-ers don't really do the whole original , 'different' artistic jewelry thing. Especially Tribal art. Cowboys and Western? Yeah. But African and Tribal? Fuck no. And don't deny it, Creekers! You know it's so true. Hell Albertans, period.
With a couple of stop-ins by Mama and Ava, the day passed and it was eventually five o'clock. We covered our stuff and took off. I wrote, and did various other things upstairs because Brian's computer was on the blitz. There was a NaNoWriMo meet-up at Boston Pizza at 6 30, but I had figured that no one would want to drive me so soon after the show. Turns out that someone could most likely have driven me, but hey. Ya can't have it all.
That night, like the night before (did I forget to mention this?) I stayed up and wrote til 2 30 or 3 am, determined to get those 3000 words in. I borrowed Papa's laptop and did it downstairs on the couch and later the floor, with the help of caffeine.
Caffeine. Dontcha just love it? I didn't drink it at all before this November, not for many years. Herbal tea was my Goddess.
Love.
MistWeaver.
PS. The rest of the week'll ave to wait cuz I'm hungry and tired. I'm gonna bed. My slacking off ends at Midnight and that's in an hour so I'd like to be sleeping by then, thanks.
Next! Ava, Closet Doors, and a Whole Lotta Huffing and Puffing
Okay, back for Round Two! In case you're not up-to-date, scroll down to 'Apologies, Time Travel, and a Lost Younger Brother'. I hope to at least get the weekend done and written down here tonight, so that I can write and write some more on NaNoWriMo.
So, next. Friday. I woke up earlier on Friday, though it was a PD day and there was (yet again) no school. Early, of course, means something like noon or one pm. I can't quite remember what I did earlier on in the day, but somewhere around 2 or so Ava appeared, quite suddenly, in Mumsy's bedroom. I walked in and she was there! There was hugs and hellos, and we all talked for a while before loading up for the show. We had to be set up by seven, starting at four. We delayed as much as we could and ended up there by 4 30 or five.
Now, my mother has a custom and simply gorgeous display case with 'Ti' carved into the front and all sorts of other goodies, courtesy of Brian, who made it for her. The only problem: It's wood and glass and freaking huge. Ava and I lugged it to the car with only minimal butt-squishing against doors and crushed body parts, and thankfully no tripping or dropping. After that, the rest was a piece of cake! Well, kinda. There were two closet doors as well, the big white kind that slide/fold open, that we filched from the front closet and were going to use as displays for her clocks.
We had been told that we got the same spot as last year (though we didn't have Ava last year), and so we piled into the cars and went to the Golf Clubhouse, one of the two locations (at either ends of Redwood). We got out and all industrial like, gathered the closet doors and meticulously made our way into the clubhouse. Though the damned door things are bigger than us, we were women and so we prevailed. Upon entry into the clubhouse, we were greeted by Karen (the organizer and my brother's bus driver) helping people set up in OUR space. What was this? The traitor!
Her and Ava called out things to each other that I didn't catch with my limited hearing and I bewilderedly followed them back out, back to the car, still carrying the freaking closet doors. Apparently not only were we not at that place, but we weren't even in the clubhouse! We had been relocated to the Ostrich Egg lady (dont' ask) 's spot in Redwood House.
Of course then we got there and had to unload it all. Again. After nearly killing myself several times because I had shoved my feet into the nearest shoes on my way out and was now stuck unloading on ice in heels, we got all of Mama's stuff unloaded. Then there was Ava's stuff. She was parked around back. There was an icy slippery hill and stairs involved. Nuff said.
I brought in all of her stuff and Mama and I discovered the cool new stands and displays her husband had made for her. The cool new displays that made the closet doors unnescessary.
Oh, a note: Mama fucked up her wrist. Again. Poor old dear. -snicker- Ima get whacked for that one. -cough- But anyways. The point is that all the heavy lifting and hauling that I'm talking about is all getting done by either me or Ava or both.
So the closet doors got luigged all the way back to the car.
Finally, finally, after laying out and organising (if you'd call it that) and basically setting up to our heart's desire, we all piled into the cars and headed home. We didn't have to be back til the wine and cheese party at 7. Mama and Ava relaxed and drank wine and had fun. I... Well, I actually don't remember what I did. Maybe I read...?
In any case, at quarter to seven we all changed and got dolled up (or as dolled up as we're going to get for -turns up nose- the likes of Redwood Meadows) and piled back in the car and drove back to the Redwood House. To sum up the rest of the night: horrible wine, no sales, and an interesting diatribe between me and Ava on the way back that consisted mainly of insults about youth and ... uh... old age. Can't remember much of it now but we laughed and Mama 'oooooooh'-ed over each one that was particularly bad. I got in the last word, for once. ^.^
And that was my Friday night. Last Friday, that is.
MistWeaver.
So, next. Friday. I woke up earlier on Friday, though it was a PD day and there was (yet again) no school. Early, of course, means something like noon or one pm. I can't quite remember what I did earlier on in the day, but somewhere around 2 or so Ava appeared, quite suddenly, in Mumsy's bedroom. I walked in and she was there! There was hugs and hellos, and we all talked for a while before loading up for the show. We had to be set up by seven, starting at four. We delayed as much as we could and ended up there by 4 30 or five.
Now, my mother has a custom and simply gorgeous display case with 'Ti' carved into the front and all sorts of other goodies, courtesy of Brian, who made it for her. The only problem: It's wood and glass and freaking huge. Ava and I lugged it to the car with only minimal butt-squishing against doors and crushed body parts, and thankfully no tripping or dropping. After that, the rest was a piece of cake! Well, kinda. There were two closet doors as well, the big white kind that slide/fold open, that we filched from the front closet and were going to use as displays for her clocks.
We had been told that we got the same spot as last year (though we didn't have Ava last year), and so we piled into the cars and went to the Golf Clubhouse, one of the two locations (at either ends of Redwood). We got out and all industrial like, gathered the closet doors and meticulously made our way into the clubhouse. Though the damned door things are bigger than us, we were women and so we prevailed. Upon entry into the clubhouse, we were greeted by Karen (the organizer and my brother's bus driver) helping people set up in OUR space. What was this? The traitor!
Her and Ava called out things to each other that I didn't catch with my limited hearing and I bewilderedly followed them back out, back to the car, still carrying the freaking closet doors. Apparently not only were we not at that place, but we weren't even in the clubhouse! We had been relocated to the Ostrich Egg lady (dont' ask) 's spot in Redwood House.
Of course then we got there and had to unload it all. Again. After nearly killing myself several times because I had shoved my feet into the nearest shoes on my way out and was now stuck unloading on ice in heels, we got all of Mama's stuff unloaded. Then there was Ava's stuff. She was parked around back. There was an icy slippery hill and stairs involved. Nuff said.
I brought in all of her stuff and Mama and I discovered the cool new stands and displays her husband had made for her. The cool new displays that made the closet doors unnescessary.
Oh, a note: Mama fucked up her wrist. Again. Poor old dear. -snicker- Ima get whacked for that one. -cough- But anyways. The point is that all the heavy lifting and hauling that I'm talking about is all getting done by either me or Ava or both.
So the closet doors got luigged all the way back to the car.
Finally, finally, after laying out and organising (if you'd call it that) and basically setting up to our heart's desire, we all piled into the cars and headed home. We didn't have to be back til the wine and cheese party at 7. Mama and Ava relaxed and drank wine and had fun. I... Well, I actually don't remember what I did. Maybe I read...?
In any case, at quarter to seven we all changed and got dolled up (or as dolled up as we're going to get for -turns up nose- the likes of Redwood Meadows) and piled back in the car and drove back to the Redwood House. To sum up the rest of the night: horrible wine, no sales, and an interesting diatribe between me and Ava on the way back that consisted mainly of insults about youth and ... uh... old age. Can't remember much of it now but we laughed and Mama 'oooooooh'-ed over each one that was particularly bad. I got in the last word, for once. ^.^
And that was my Friday night. Last Friday, that is.
MistWeaver.
Time Travel, Apologies, and a Lost Younger Brother
First things first: Apologies! I haven't written in nearly a week and I apologize profusely. I've been majorly slacking off, and I don't regret it a single eensy weensy bit. Ava and Mama told me and told me to take a break, and though I've figured that break would come in Decemver, I was so totally wrongL fate had other plans for me.
A trip in time seems to be in order. I last wrote (if you'd even call it that) on Wednesday. I'll start at the Thursday before that, then. Ill post them as separate posts so that I don't take up as much room. That's me, ever the conservative one!
And so, on to my Thursday: I took advantage of Remembrance Day (no school!), and slept til 2 pm. Or somewhere close to that. Then, I descended to The Room Where Time Does Not Pass (aka Brian's basement). And wrote. Until 5 30 pm. I was only interrupted once, around 3 or so, when Mama came down and asked if I had any idea were my brother was.
Then, at 5 30, Mama came down again and asked me to help clean the house, for lo and behold! Mme. Ava was coming to visit for the Redwood art show. I graciously agree to donate my time and effort, of course, and happily folded clothes with neither hesitation nor complaint.
And if you believe that you're dumber than I expected. Who am I kidding? I bitched like no tomorrow for having my mad writing spree interrupted, but did helped anyway because Mama already works too hard and could use the help. Then I went downstairs and had a break for another hour. I got hungry as I was startin' up the ol' motor again for another mad writing spree and decided that since my brother was still nowhere to be found, perhaps Mumsy would be open to food suggestions. I easily convinced her to go out for dinner since we had nothing to eat but toast and we were running out of that, too.
Being the dutiful and caring mother she is, though, she insisted that we find Kai first. He tends to disappear at his friends' houses often and for long periods of time, so up until then we hadn't really worried. He should have been home by then, though. So we (meaning I) called up Millerville and called up my father and basically asked around. Funny thing is, no one answered their damned phone! I left plenty of messages. At that point, Mama remembered that he had possibly gone to Lethbridge with his friend for the weekend. So armed with that knoledge (or assumption), we headed off into the big bad world... Bragg Creek.
And had a very nice dinner at a nice restaurant. And then went home. The end, or as much as I can remember of it.
Next up: Friday and possibly more!
MistWeaver
A trip in time seems to be in order. I last wrote (if you'd even call it that) on Wednesday. I'll start at the Thursday before that, then. Ill post them as separate posts so that I don't take up as much room. That's me, ever the conservative one!
And so, on to my Thursday: I took advantage of Remembrance Day (no school!), and slept til 2 pm. Or somewhere close to that. Then, I descended to The Room Where Time Does Not Pass (aka Brian's basement). And wrote. Until 5 30 pm. I was only interrupted once, around 3 or so, when Mama came down and asked if I had any idea were my brother was.
Then, at 5 30, Mama came down again and asked me to help clean the house, for lo and behold! Mme. Ava was coming to visit for the Redwood art show. I graciously agree to donate my time and effort, of course, and happily folded clothes with neither hesitation nor complaint.
And if you believe that you're dumber than I expected. Who am I kidding? I bitched like no tomorrow for having my mad writing spree interrupted, but did helped anyway because Mama already works too hard and could use the help. Then I went downstairs and had a break for another hour. I got hungry as I was startin' up the ol' motor again for another mad writing spree and decided that since my brother was still nowhere to be found, perhaps Mumsy would be open to food suggestions. I easily convinced her to go out for dinner since we had nothing to eat but toast and we were running out of that, too.
Being the dutiful and caring mother she is, though, she insisted that we find Kai first. He tends to disappear at his friends' houses often and for long periods of time, so up until then we hadn't really worried. He should have been home by then, though. So we (meaning I) called up Millerville and called up my father and basically asked around. Funny thing is, no one answered their damned phone! I left plenty of messages. At that point, Mama remembered that he had possibly gone to Lethbridge with his friend for the weekend. So armed with that knoledge (or assumption), we headed off into the big bad world... Bragg Creek.
And had a very nice dinner at a nice restaurant. And then went home. The end, or as much as I can remember of it.
Next up: Friday and possibly more!
MistWeaver
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
My pickies!
Fuck. Once again I wrote a nice long post and once again it got deleted. I really hate this computer. Oh, well. That was last night. I've given up on worry. If I hadn't I would have gone crazy from .. oh, let's see. MY SCHOOLWORK?!? Ugh, but that's another story. Love you guys lots but I hafta go.
MistWeaver
MistWeaver
Monday, November 15, 2004
Novel Update: The Beginning of Week III
Just a quickie update before I go on with my writing. It's now Day I of Week Three and Day 15 of NaNoWriMo. My total word count as of this minute: 27466, a little over halfway done. This is good, since it's halfway through the month. The 466 is the beginning of my word count for today, 1/6th of it, to be exact.
I'm lying here on my father's laptop watching Van Helsing with my brother. I saw it in theatres and saw most of it again at a friend's for a sleepover-movie-fest thing two weeks ago. Great movie, though. Well, I guess it's back to writing for me.
"Igor! Why do you torment that thing so?"
-rueful shrug- "It's what I do."
MistWeaver
I'm lying here on my father's laptop watching Van Helsing with my brother. I saw it in theatres and saw most of it again at a friend's for a sleepover-movie-fest thing two weeks ago. Great movie, though. Well, I guess it's back to writing for me.
"Igor! Why do you torment that thing so?"
-rueful shrug- "It's what I do."
MistWeaver
"Go Fuck Yourself WIth A Kosher Salami"
I have had my first experience with Stage West Dinner Theatre. And what's-her-face, Dawn something-or-other from Gilligan's Island, who was in the play. And I have also learned something: CHIVALRY IS NOT ENTIRELY DEAD, DAMMIT!
Well, it is in our youth and adolescent generation. Hell, not only is it dead: it's (like King Taur Urgas in the Belgariad-Malloreon series by David Eddings) had it's throat cut, been stabbed a couple of times and was buried head-first ten feet underground with a tight scarf around it's neck, just to make sure.
I'm not talking about our adolescent generation, however. I'm talking about our average Stage-West attending crowd: old. Fucking old. Well, in my opinion.
What IS Stage West, you ask? Well, it's a dinner theatre. With an all-you-can-eat buffet and a crazily expensive ticket. How did I, of all people, end up there? With my father, no less? Well, he had tickets and no one to take. I was the prime candidate for (shudder for all of us teens out there) bonding time. Besides, I like theatre and love food. Besides, in case it was 18 and over (it wasn't), I could get in.
Today was the last day of the Show and Sale. I'll go on about that tomorrow (if I'm not dead), so that I can devote my attention to the convos I had there and the show itself.
First, it was a semi-formal place. Unlike the teens who seem to feel that dressing up is a clean pair of jeans, this is taken seriously. My dad, who was wearing jeans and a dressy top, was nearly denied entrance. Though I'm not exactly a snob, it was kinda nice to be around people who actually took the time to dress up, no matter how old they were. Also, I got treated like a (gasp) lady. This is why I'll never be a feminist: inside, I'm secretly thrilled when a guy treats me like I'm something special or delicate, not some cica who swears a lot, has short hair and can kick most guys asses.
Like, when I came back form my first trip to the buffet, a waiter happened to be walking by. I went to pull out my chair and sit down and he went 'here, let me' and pulled my chair out for me, not because I had my hands full or anything, but as a courtesy because I was a cica (girl, in case you were wondering). It was very gentleman-y of him. I know it's not part of his job because I saw lots of chicks sitting down and he didn't offer to pull out all of their chairs for them. Then again, I was the only one who looked under 25. Hell, under 30.
I dunno. I guess I'm old-fashioned at heart. Not that I'd want to stay at home and do nothing my entire life but look after my kids and clean. In fact, that's kinda my worst nightmare. But little things, like having the guy ask you out instead of vice-versa, being offered his coat when you're cold, having your chair pulled out for you... Like I said, they make me feel like I'm something special. Not that I won't ask someone else out, offer my coat to a dude if he's cold, or sit down unless my chair is pulled out. But it does give the guy mucho brownie points (taking notes yet?). Too bad chivalry is deader than Elvis in people my age.
As for the play itself... It was called something like "Tales from the Allergist's Wife" and starred, like I said, that cica from Gilligan's Island... Mary-Ann... Uh... Dawn More? Dawn something-or-other. It was supremely amusing, made me think, and I even wrote down some quotes from the old Jewish mother-grandmother chick, who was probably one of my favorite characters (there were only 5, but what the hell), including the title of this post. I also liked the reply another male character said a minute later to something else she said in addition... "She's an equal-oppurtunity fuck-you-er" Neehee. "There will be no international acts of terrorism in this house!" was another of the ones I liked.
Sadly, it finished. Yeah, I know that it was bound to happen, but hey. Whatevah, dahlinks. I had a couple of interesting talks with my father that night too, but since I REALLY need to start writing as it's already past midnight, I'll leave that for tomorrow as well.
Toodles!
MistWeaver
Well, it is in our youth and adolescent generation. Hell, not only is it dead: it's (like King Taur Urgas in the Belgariad-Malloreon series by David Eddings) had it's throat cut, been stabbed a couple of times and was buried head-first ten feet underground with a tight scarf around it's neck, just to make sure.
I'm not talking about our adolescent generation, however. I'm talking about our average Stage-West attending crowd: old. Fucking old. Well, in my opinion.
What IS Stage West, you ask? Well, it's a dinner theatre. With an all-you-can-eat buffet and a crazily expensive ticket. How did I, of all people, end up there? With my father, no less? Well, he had tickets and no one to take. I was the prime candidate for (shudder for all of us teens out there) bonding time. Besides, I like theatre and love food. Besides, in case it was 18 and over (it wasn't), I could get in.
Today was the last day of the Show and Sale. I'll go on about that tomorrow (if I'm not dead), so that I can devote my attention to the convos I had there and the show itself.
First, it was a semi-formal place. Unlike the teens who seem to feel that dressing up is a clean pair of jeans, this is taken seriously. My dad, who was wearing jeans and a dressy top, was nearly denied entrance. Though I'm not exactly a snob, it was kinda nice to be around people who actually took the time to dress up, no matter how old they were. Also, I got treated like a (gasp) lady. This is why I'll never be a feminist: inside, I'm secretly thrilled when a guy treats me like I'm something special or delicate, not some cica who swears a lot, has short hair and can kick most guys asses.
Like, when I came back form my first trip to the buffet, a waiter happened to be walking by. I went to pull out my chair and sit down and he went 'here, let me' and pulled my chair out for me, not because I had my hands full or anything, but as a courtesy because I was a cica (girl, in case you were wondering). It was very gentleman-y of him. I know it's not part of his job because I saw lots of chicks sitting down and he didn't offer to pull out all of their chairs for them. Then again, I was the only one who looked under 25. Hell, under 30.
I dunno. I guess I'm old-fashioned at heart. Not that I'd want to stay at home and do nothing my entire life but look after my kids and clean. In fact, that's kinda my worst nightmare. But little things, like having the guy ask you out instead of vice-versa, being offered his coat when you're cold, having your chair pulled out for you... Like I said, they make me feel like I'm something special. Not that I won't ask someone else out, offer my coat to a dude if he's cold, or sit down unless my chair is pulled out. But it does give the guy mucho brownie points (taking notes yet?). Too bad chivalry is deader than Elvis in people my age.
As for the play itself... It was called something like "Tales from the Allergist's Wife" and starred, like I said, that cica from Gilligan's Island... Mary-Ann... Uh... Dawn More? Dawn something-or-other. It was supremely amusing, made me think, and I even wrote down some quotes from the old Jewish mother-grandmother chick, who was probably one of my favorite characters (there were only 5, but what the hell), including the title of this post. I also liked the reply another male character said a minute later to something else she said in addition... "She's an equal-oppurtunity fuck-you-er" Neehee. "There will be no international acts of terrorism in this house!" was another of the ones I liked.
Sadly, it finished. Yeah, I know that it was bound to happen, but hey. Whatevah, dahlinks. I had a couple of interesting talks with my father that night too, but since I REALLY need to start writing as it's already past midnight, I'll leave that for tomorrow as well.
Toodles!
MistWeaver
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