I’m home right now, not meeting a hero. I have two unmet living musical heroes & I am not going to meet them.
I made excuses to Shawn:
What if I say something stupid? What if I don’t say anything at all and look weird? I don’t like cameras, won’t he be offended if I don’t want a selfie? Plus how do I avoid everyone else’s cameras? I don’t have anything to wear, my clothes don’t fit right. My haircut is terrible. I don’t have many heroes left and want to keep him. What if he falls in love with me at first sight and the only resolution is a duel? What if I panic and say that, as a person with invisible eyebrows, I have always quite appreciated his eyebrow game? What if I wear Shalimar and he’s allergic to Shalimar and he dies?
But the fundamental reason is this (aside from the heroes thing): I’m an anxiety bomb over something as simple as getting the mail. I’m honestly afraid that, if I were ever to have a heart attack or a stroke, I’d be too embarrassed to call for help & incur the expense, in case I was wrong. In case I had to bother the dispatchers and care providers.
I wanted Shawn to enjoy his morning hanging out with an artist he loves. I didn’t want him to be distracted by concerns about my anxiety. Because he would worry, because he loves me.
So, I didn’t want to meet my hero, and I successfully did not meet him.
But I thought, since this is happening now, that it’s a good time to demonstrate how chronic anxiety can be a third party in a relationship. Fourth, if you also have depression. So when I consider going somewhere, doing something, I have to consider whether the Black Dog and Chev Chelios would also be welcome/tolerated by all involved.
That’s why Shawn met Ice Cube today and I stayed home and browsed for Chev gifs.
I didn’t get these all at once, just haven’t taken brag shots of them yet.
Left to right:
Conklin Duragraph (Amber) with 1.1 stub nib. Inked with Diamine Shimmertastic Sparkling Shadows.
Noodler’s Ahab (Navajo) flex nib. Inked with diluted Diamine Sherwood Green.
Frankenparker: 1938 Parker Parkette with XF Wearever nib of similar vintage, inked with Private Reserve Sonic Blue.
My dad found the Parkette in an antique shop, along with a couple of Wearevers. I just deleted a bunch of boring details re: its problems. End result: cobbled together parts and now she writes. The extra-fine nib is a treat.
I have a Cracked Ice Duragraph w/a very wet Medium nib that I adore and am just as happy with this stub. The stub is a touch scratchy, which is to be expected as it’s untipped, plus I’m using a particulate/GLITTER! ink in it. Makes me happy though.
The Ahab is a pleasant surprise. I have been battling a loathed Nib Creaper Flex for two years, following every adjustment tutorial, heat-setting, replacing the nib and feed, etc and it’s just a piece of hateful, hateful junk. It therefore seemed masochistic to try the Ahab but I really wanted flex. I absolutely love it. I’d thought it looked like a gross, fat torpedo in pictures, but in person, it’s the perfect size for me. Colorway is pretty, too. But the real action is in the nib, which does what I’d hoped. So, happy days. It pretty much confirms that my craptown Creaper was just defective.
So much stuff has been going on, a lot of it really heavy and depressing – world stuff, and personal. I have been self-medicating with:
- My first playthrough of Mass Effect; psyched for Andromeda now. May replay ME2 but unlikely to play the others again. Currently replaying Fallout 4 just because it soothes me.
- Books, including Mary Sangiovanni’s Chills, K. C. Alexander’s Necrotech, Cherie Priest’s The Family Plot, Gleick’s Time Travel: A History, and Arnold’s Necropolis: London and its Dead.
- Bourbon, tea, and thick socks
There are also a couple of new loves in the household. Both need caring for, which is good for everyone.
The Remy dog:
She is the sweetness. Enjoys Dirk Gently, milkbones, and nocturnes.
The Underwood #3: after lots of cleaning, tinkering, replacing rollers, etc, she’s up and running. All she needs are new decals and a single key top. Maaayyybe a bit more polishing, but hey, she works.
Okay, I’m posting this totally off the cuff, because my angst about perfect, interesting blog posts means I never write any.
For the past year, the elderly Kruegerdog needed a lot of care and attention. We finally said goodbye to him on March 31, and for the next week, I worked on learning how to sleep again. It takes time to get used to a new mode of life.
We didn’t have much time to get used to it, not as I’d expected: on April 8, two of my worst fears came true on the same day. Our landlord decided to end our month-to-month lease after 3 years and sell the house (it sold 3 days after we left) and I shattered a tooth. No home and no teeth (with no insurance?) Nightmare scenario.
Thus began some franticness. We theoretically had a month to move out, but Shawn travels for work, and he was leaving soon – so we had two weeks to find a place and move in. A place that took German Shepherds.
Now I’ll fast-forward: by May 1 my tooth was fixed, and we were in the new house. It’s a townhouse; at 1800sf, it creams the cute 700sf cottage we left. It’s a LOT safer here. Bronte has a huge privacy-fenced yard. I have an office, a deck, a garage, and live across the street from the library. We have about 5x as much kitchen as we did in the old house – I’ve lived in shitty studio apartments with more kitchen space than we’ve had for 3 years.
I’ve always preferred old houses – this is my first modern place, and damn if there isn’t something to be said for contemporary spaces. There are outlets everywhere! There are more closets in this house than there were *rooms* in my old house! The windows open AND close! I marvel.
Eventually I’ll finish unpacking. I packed a whole house in 2 days, but unpacking is slow going, and I don’t understand why. I haven’t even hung a single piece of artwork yet. There’s so much house
Meantime, I’ve been reading a lot (library! across the street!) and hanging out in my head with Mollie and Dinah quite a bit. I’ll be posting some neat stuff soon; not tonight, though. But I need to get to know them a little better because I want to get into the meat of their first novel. I want everyone to know them better, because they’re fabulous and fun and I love them.
I imagine it’s bad form to talk about all the other things I want to blog about, so I’ll just end here.
I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, and today’s the day! I want to brag about my workspace, and answer a few questions people have had regarding software and equipment I love.
First and, uh, largest: The Desk. When I moved to Kentucky I couldn’t bring the dog-crate-straddling beast of a desk I’d built in Savannah, so I needed a new one. I looked for weeks at stores, online, etc. Everything in my broke-ass price range was flimsy, and when surrounded by giant dogs, flimsy is no good.
Enter Craigslist. Never used it before. Found this. I win everything.
It’s solid cherry, and has leaded glass, a roll-top, cubbies, shelves, and marvelousness. Behold its glory.
I pull out the drawer in the front and cap it with a cutting board (that I turned into a spirit board) to hold my keyboard/tea and work. For play, I ditch the board, close the drawer, and pull up a recliner so I can kick back with fancy headphones and wander the Wastelands.
Here it is opened up.
What do we have: some of my gargoyles on top. Lots of boxes and jars and things that contain other things. Tarot decks. Candles. Skulls. All of my unused blank books. Whatever BPAL stuff I’m into at the moment. Random e-juices. Reference books I’m not actively using. Box of kyphi, dish of sage, old ram sticks and hard drives for emergencies.
Deep in the guts of the desk – behind the skulls – are almost all the books in which I’ve been published. I put them there to keep them safe.
Instead of having the books displayed on a shelf to remind me that I Do Things, I have a bracelet with a charm for everything I’ve published. I’m still missing charms for Brisé and for Last Night at the Blue Alice. Headspace counts as workspace, so I’m including this:
This is my favorite pen and ink (and my commonplace book – basically a bullet journal with a bunch of other crap in there. I can’t keep diaries, they feel weird. See how much trouble I have blogging? Diaries are worse for me.) I need another one of these pens in Amber, and about seven hundred other inks, though Yama-Dori is glorious.
The meat of the matter: my keyboard. Oh, how I love it. I love it so. People near me, not so much, because it’s loud. This is a Quickfire Rapid TKL (tenkeyless) mechanical keyboard with Cherry MX Blue switches (ie, very clicky + tactile feedback.) The keycaps are Filco doubleshots – tall, spherical profile. They’re very dark brown, heavy, and feel like Bakelite. I used dampeners with my old Rosewill doubleshots but prefer these without.
No freaking numpad – that’s what got me started looking at mechs in the first place, b/c I hated having to reach waaaay past stupid wasted numpad real estate to get to my mouse.
VAST reduction in wrist/finger fatigue.
Clickful, clackful. I love loud keyboards. I’m that dorktopus that installed typewriter-sound apps.
Doubleshots, btw, mean that the letters are poured, then the rest of the key. The lettering is part of the plastic and will never wear off. Since I wear the screenprinted letters off keys in about a month, this is crucial.
Cons: none. Ok, too loud to use in public, like if I wanted to go write at the library or whatever, but I will never, ever do that, plus I knew going in that it would be loud.
Also, subsidiary workspace:
This is my flippedy notebook. Inspiron i3147 (thank you, Dell Scratch & Dent clearance.) I can stand it like this (its own keyboard facing down), plug in my keyboard, and basically have a touchscreen laptop with mechanical keyboard. And Scrivener. It’s so good.
(And if I ever get my hands on a 60% keyboard – a PokerII or backlit V60 – it would be even more compact.)
Is that everything? I think that’s everything. I’ll save the software post for another time, because I’m spent, and because dinner just got here.
Here’s Bronte as a treat for sitting through this ostentatious display.
Krueger was a stray that I almost hit while driving to work one day. I called Animal Control to get him off the street safely, then got Savannah Sav-A-Life to sponsor me to get him out. He was about 3 years old but starved – weighed 45lbs and had a puppy collar tight on his throat at that weight. The logical assumption is that he’d had the collar as a puppy, then been chucked out into a back yard for the rest of his life. He had Stage 3 heartworms.
For a while, he went by the name Dog X. I’d just intended to rehab & foster him, since Eike was about 8 months old and whacko at the time. He went through confinement for heartworm treatment, getting weight on him, getting his poor muscles reconditioned, getting neutered (of course,) all that. And when he was healed up after a few months, it turned out that he was the perfect buddy for Eike: played with her enough to help her exercise, but was also really calm, which showed her that calm was an okay thing to be sometimes. 😊 So he got an official name, and stayed.
He is afraid of storms and lightning so cameras, which flash, usually make him flatten his ears. I snuck up on him in the sunshine once and got this great portrait though:
He’s the sweetest marshmallow that ever was, but part of that sweetness is because I think the malnutrition & heartworms may have damaged his brain some. He’s never been interested in toys, treats, anything. Never chased a ball. Never wagged his tail. Never barked. He’s not shy or scared, just incredibly passive. Even wild animals don’t see him as any kind of threat: we’ve had rabbits and possums just mosey on by, up close!, like he wasn’t even there. (He didn’t notice them, either.)
It was okay that he didn’t learn things; he just copied Eike, and she was a Good Girl, so it worked out. He saw her go into her crate for dinner, so he went into his, etc. When he did things she disapproved of, like approaching the Christmas tree, she steered him away. It was pretty great.
We – with great affection – call him our throw rug.
The only thing that visibly perks him up is the opportunity to sleep on something new.
Krueger’s now in the neighborhood of 16 years old. In the Spring/Summer of 2014 he developed Canine Cognitive Disorder/”doggie dementia,” which was terrible. It was like he had storm fear, but 24 hours a day. I was scared for him; not only was he suddenly incredibly destructive, flipping furniture over, etc, but he was so agitated that we couldn’t put calories into him as fast as his anxiety/activity was burning them.
We tried everything. We were about to put him on the last-ditch possibility, which is a human dementia medication – expensive and a pretty heavy pharmaceutical. Luckily a vitamin supplement (Cholodin) turned him around. His “brain pills” made him normal lazy Krueger again. I’m convinced it saved his life.
He’s very old and needs help getting around. He’s basically in hospice mode nowadays. But it looks pretty much the same as his “wild youth” – lots of sleeping on the couch, until it’s time for him to come into the bedroom at night and sleep on his bed there. (A habit we started when the dementia struck: he wouldn’t settle unless I was touching him. Slept for months with my arm hanging off the the bed, hand on his shoulder, until we found those vitamins.)
Now, with Bronte here, he sleeps on the couch with the coffee table moved up so she can’t jump all over him. He’d be fine with it, but no old man wants little’uns jumping on their heads or their bad hips. She occasionally checks in on him but is content to leave him be. He, having never cared about fun or toys or treats – hell, we don’t think he’s ever known his name – isn’t the least bit jealous of all of Bronte’s fun. Bronte doesn’t seem to be confused as to why there’s a whole ‘nother dog just sleeping all day, either. He gets treats anyway, and extra snuggles, because he deserves to be spoiled.
It may seem like it sometimes, but he’s not going to be here forever. In the mean time, he keeps the teapots safe.
And so it came to pass that the cutest, smartest, snuggliest, bitiest of landsharks ate my heart: ’tis Brontë.
I took a brief break from the exhausting “take your teeth out of that thing” work to teach some fun today: pic.twitter.com/gsLYFQha1i
— Mehitobel Wilson (@Mehitobel) December 31, 2015
I lost my best bear Eike two years ago. It took a long time for me to recover, and then another long time for the stars to align, but everything worked out and a new pupper has come home. She joins our elderly rescue Krueger, who will have a big blog post of his own soon.
Brontë will be four months old in a couple of days. She was 8 weeks old when she arrived (ten weeks in the video above.) It’s amazing to see how much she’s grown already. One ear is still being a little stubborn and hasn’t come up yet, but they’re big damn ears. It’s no surprise they’re hard to hoist.
Incoming pupper meant I finally caved and got a smartphone. It was total junk, so I got another one. Now I can take way too many photos and use the GPS to find my way to dog-friendly places in town. We haven’t gone on any good jaunts yet because she’s not through with her shots, but we’ll be free to go a’gallivanting next week, right when bad winter weather hits. Hurray!
She’s smart as hell. I didn’t want to train her too much just yet, I just wanted to let her be a puppy, but it was just too easy. She’s at least as smart as Eike was – or maybe Eike gave me the practice I needed to help Brontë along. She catches on scary-fast; I have to be very conscious of my body language, tone of voice, etc to be sure I don’t accidentally train her to do weird things. Obedience class this Spring is going to be an absolute blast. And, if she’s this smart and attentive, it might be a disservice to her if I didn’t try competing with her for a title or three. We’ll just have to see.
We’re still getting to know each other, but I love her to absolute bits. I’m excited to see who she grows up to be.