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Lydy's Anarchist Revival Meeting

9th February, 2016. 7:26 am. There was a Friday, there were cats, there were mimosas

But today is Monday.

Friday, now, I had to go to the compounding pharmacy to pick up Arwen's medication. She is hyperthyroid, and truly, massively hates the pills that control that, so I have to get her a chicken suspension. (She doesn't like the fish suspension. I do not know why.) The grocery store is quite close to the pharmacy, so I stopped there for the orange juice that I needed for my mimosas. And there I was, in a grocery store, hungry and very tired, after a truly horrific work shift... I'm lucky I got out with so little.

There were rotisserie chickens. I do not know why they were available so early in the morning, but it seemed like quite the thing, so I got one. Also garlic bread, avocados, and a bunch of other things. But the chicken is the thing that's most interesting.

The chicken itself was good for three or four meals, I'm not sure which. Certainly a good number for the price. But I poured the drippings into a container (which then set up like jello), and I've been using that to enhance the food that I'm offering Naomi. Naomi really likes chicken jello. She's not so keen on the eating, still, and changes what all she'll eat on a frequent basis, but she likes the chicken jello.

This evening, I took the chicken carcass and turned it into broth. Which I then reduced into a concentrate. We'll see if she likes that, but we're almost out of chicken jello. Possibly, I will need to buy another rotisserie chicken. (Woe is me, don't throw me in that there briar patch.)

I do wonder why it is that she feels the need to piss outside the litter box. How is this connected to her kidney disease? Oh, well. She still seems to be pretty much herself, but a bit skinny. I wish I could get her to eat kidney food, but I'll take any food, just for the nonce.

Lady has an appointment with the vet to be spayed this Friday. She doesn't know this, but then, she's a cat. It would be hard to explain. She let me pet her belly this evening, and seemed extravagantly pleased with the whole thing. She has gone more than a month without accidentally attacking anyone. I'm so pleased with her. She also has this funny game she plays with David. There's an office chair in the media room which she has claimed has her chair, and she's there most of the time. It's David's preferred place to sit, also. If Lady is not currently in the chair, and she hears David coming into the room, she will leap into the chair to prevent him from sitting in it. It's very funny. She looks so smug. Then David picks her up, and moves her, so that he can sit in his chair, and she looks a bit affronted.

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30th January, 2016. 2:20 am. Grief delayed, Angela Gugliotta 1963 - 2010

I just found out that someone I loved passionately died five an a half years ago. The fact that this is old news doesn't help a bit. I am gutted.

I may write more on this later. In the mean time, her name was Angela Gugliotta. I loved her immoderately. She was a professor at the University of Chicago. She was one of the smartest, most intriguing, passionate people I have ever known. Our lives took us in different paths, and I have always regretted not being able to reconnect.

May her memory be a blessing.

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29th January, 2016. 11:23 pm. Friday with Mimosas

But not, at the moment, cats, since I am over at Steven's. Well, he does have a cat, Captain Blondbeard, but Captain is studiously ignoring me.

So, if you want a really quick, not so very expensive dinner for three upon awakening of a Friday night, I suggest a rotisserie chicken, a green zucchini, a yellow zucchini, and a package of pre-sliced mushrooms. A half an onion, if you happen to have that lying about is also useful. Saute the zucchini, mushroom, and onion with butter, oil, salt and pepper. This takes, literally, fifteen minutes from the time you start washing the zucchini in order to slice it to actually it being ready to eat. If you are smarter than I am, you will add the onion first, rather than last. This pairs very nicely with the celebratory "I survived my work-week" mimosas. It pair less well with a spectacular migraine and a need to arise at 3:30 a.m. to go to the airport, which explains why my perspective playmates are in bed asleep and I am in the living room, typing at you all, cat-less. But, you know, I have more mimosas, so it's not a dead loss, though the ability to type will degrade as the evening progresses.

OMG, OMG, OMG! Jen and Steven bought me the best Xmas present _ever_. It is the Nightvale themed hip flask, with the inscription, "IF YOU SEE SOMETHING, SAY NOTHING, AND DRINK TO FORGET" with the Nightvale logo of the crescent moon as the iris of an eye. I am fucking and utterly thrilled. It was the one thing on my Amazon wish list I really, really wanted. And now, I HAVE it. Steven put some Jameson's in it, too. I do very much admire Nightvale, and am going to nominate it for a Hugo. Not sure which category, probably short form dramatic. The episode about middle school crushes was almost perfect.

In cat news, Lady Jane Grey would like ALL THE BOOOOYYYS. RIIIIIIGHHT NOOOOOOEEOWOWW. Yep, she's in heat. From which I can deduce at a) she is not pregnant and b) she has not been spayed and c) her health is adequate. She's still affectionate, and a solid little rocket-propeled grey missile. She is more affectionate than usual, what with the really wanting to get laid. One is inclined to say, "You do know that this is how you ended up in the trouble in the first place," but a) she doesn't understand English and b) wouldn't care if she did. Because BOOOYYYSSSS.

So, back to my mimosas. Which are second best to actual, live, playmates, but my playmates are now very much asleep.

It's Friday. Life is pretty good. Also, grocery store rotisserie chickens may not be gourmet, but they eat just fine.

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22nd January, 2016. 11:05 am. Mimosan cats

Is Mimosa a place? I do not know. I have not yet drunk _all_ the mimosas, but my typing is becoming unsteady, suggesting I have had...several.

Lady Jane Grey is not getting petted enough. That is clear. Yesterday, I was petting her, and we forgot ourselves, and she tried to scratch me. She caught herself, and I dodged, and there was no blood. But I've been preoccupied with Naomi, of late, and have not been giving LJG enough attention. And she is so very pretty and sweet.

She had a thing on her back, between her shoulder blades, which at first we thought was a battle wound. However, it healed up and then came back, and at her last visit to the vet, he prescribed an antibiotic. You might remember all this. Well, it cleared up just in time for me to go to NYC, which was great, but when I came back, it was back. It felt quite lumpy, actually, but I kind of picked at the crusty bits, and it turned out that the lumpiness was, in fact, just dried crusty stuff stuck in her fur. Whatever it was, it's gone, again. Possibly, it's a stress reaction. Yes, Nuit is still being a shit, why do you ask? So, for now, we're just watching. She still does her rocket-propelled routine, which is enchanting, especially now that she has some real mass to move around at high speeds. The other day, I saw what might have been the tail-end of her romping with Ninja. Ninja, of late, has been making carefully friendly overtures to her. So, that's hopeful. (Nuit, pay attention to your brother.)

Naomi...isn't eating much. She's down to 7 pounds, which means she's lost a half a pound. She will be very enthusiastic about a food in the morning, and then decide that it's absolutely disgusting that evening. We keep on buying new and different types of canned food. Her interest in the actual kidney food, the stuff she really should eat...I'm not sure negative numbers go that high.

I want to just mention that Pamela has been so wonderful to me and my poor, sick cat. She feeds (or attempts to feed) Naomi at least once a day, frequently more often. This would be much harder without her help.

So, Friday, cats, and mimosas. What more could you want? Well, other than fewer dead people, I mean.

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22nd January, 2016. 9:56 am. This thing happened to me, now it's happening to you, sorry

Death eviscerates us.
Tangled secrets and partly digested aspirations
spill out into the air, and we stare
trying to read our futures in our own entrails
but are too distracted by the visceral reek of it all.
We are laid open, bared, gaping at a future
not of our making
and our future ummaking.


Yeah, don't let me poesy again, ok?

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12th January, 2016. 2:10 am. Just Saw Star Wars: The Force Awakens

And my one sentence review (stolen from DDB): May no new thing arise.

Spoilers ok in comments.

Oh, and I liked it quite a bit.

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8th January, 2016. 9:48 am. Epics and Isolations

One of the high points of my time in NYC was Patrick and Teresa's New Year's Day party. It was more fun that I can even come close to describing. So many people. Shawna McCarthy was there, and I got to squee at her about how much I had loved Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine when she had been chief editor. It had been a very lonely period of my life, and the magazine mattered to me so very much. She looked very pleased, though she said a bit wistfully that no one remembers that she did that. Which shocked me. I remember. And it mattered. A lot. It also mattered that she was a girl, and it suggested to me that maybe, you know, girls could...do things.

I got to meet Jim Henley, which was an especial treat. I remember reading him back during the second Iraq war, and he was so very wise and sensible. He's a lovely man, funny and interesting and genuinely kind. He also has a very nice wife, who I didn't get to talk to as much as I would have liked. And a bit of ego boo: Patrick sent Jim email to confirm that they really were going to come up from Silver Springs, MD to the party, and said that if he did, Lydy Nickerson would fan-girl squee at him. Jim's response was (para-quoted), "Lydy Nickerson of the File 770 Nickersons, who always says smart things?" (I don't actually. And not nearly as many smart things as Jim does, but I'm totally taking that ego boo and running.)

So many people were there. Ellen Datlow, Moshe Feder, Avram Grumer, Julia the blogger whose last name I've lost but I like so very much, Bear, Lynch and lots of other people. Really interesting people. This was an epic party. Utterly epic.

The high point, for me, was Scott Lynch reading his epic smackdown of John C. Wright. If you haven't read it, you should. It's at http://scottlynch.us/blog/2016/01/01/what-we-talk-about-when-we-talk-about-lying-crazypants-liars-who-lie/ He did funny voices for Wright and everything. There were many interjections from the crowd, many of us (ok, me) seriously inebriated. If you've ever read Scott, you'll know that exceptionally gifted with the clever and profane turn of phrase. It was a great bonding experience.

Scott also posted the smackdown on his blog. Since he has an I.Q. greater than that of a potato, he closed comments. Good on him. The next day, which was Patrick's birthday, was occasioned by many people responding to the post with kind and or snarky encouragement. It was a lovely birthday present.

In watching all this, I am struck by how incredibly isolating being the target of the kind of abuse that Patrick has been the target of can be. It is significantly exacerbated by the fact that his professional integrity is being impugned, and there are very few ways that he can respond that don't feed into spiraling feedback loops that make him look unprofessional. Despite the fact that John C. Wright's accusations were utter lies, and the fact that they were viciously personal, there is very little that Patrick could say, publicly, which wouldn't feed into the "news cycle" and just make the whole thing worse. And while the people who love him and are intimate with him can reassure him that they don't believe this shite, the rest of the world remains silent. It's hard to send a note of support to someone you don't know. All of this is exacerbated by Patrick very sensibly triaging his on-line time, not reading the fora where a lot of this is discussed, since a) who the hell has that much time and b) it's too easy to come across trolls that will simply cause unnecessary upset. But it does mean that he also doesn't see the people who say, "Jesus, that JCW guy's fucked up."

Abuse is almost always isolating. I am immensely grateful that Scott Lynch posted his rant, which then gave so many people a reason to send Patrick a quick note of support.

On a less serious note, man that party was epic. Thank god for friends and lovers and brilliant editors and gifted ranters and people who will be kind to me when I'm entirely too drunk. People. People are remarkably awesome. Who knew?

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8th January, 2016. 9:24 am. Friday Morning Cats and Mimosas, the Triumphant Return

I decided to run away from Christmas, which meant that I was in Brooklyn, NY and Wales MA over the holidays. It was delightful, except for the distinct lack of feline companionship. I did play Neko Atsume quite obsessively, but those cats don't purr. (What was the game designer thinking, really?)

I returned home Monday evening. The little black kittens seemed neither pleased nor surprised to see me. They were pretty much, "Oh, you. Ok, you." Lady Jane Grey seemed quite pleased to see me, and rolled around in her chair enthusiastically when I petted her. Arwen retreated to her cave under the bed and glared at me balefully, and Naomi decided that I was a cat-eating monster and fled before the terror that is me. Behold! I am Lydy! Once I got in the bed, Arwen forgave me, or at least, came to sit on me, complain bitterly at length, and periodically nibble on my wrist to make sure that I hadn't magically transformed into a tasty treat while I was gone.

Naomi, as I mentioned earlier, has kidney disease, and is eating only very intermittently. She really should be eating kidney food, but that appears to bear a striking resemblance to the instructions to "first stand the cat on the newspaper." She does nibble on the kidney kibble, but throws up one of the types of kidney canned food, and doesn't care for the other. Pamela and I have been tempting her with various styles of wet food, some of which she eats, some of which she doesn't, some of which entrance her for a day or two, none of which appear to be appealing long-term. We trade email about what she's eaten, since I feed her in the morning when I get home from work and Pamela feeds her during the day.

The other morning, Naomi roundly refused to eat any of a food that had previously been acceptable, and I sent email to Pamela that started out, "The feeding of cats is a difficult matter, it's not just one of your holiday games." She responded with an email starting with, "You may think I'm as mad as a hatter when I tell you a cat must have three different foods." It amused us, though I don't know it's furthered the goal of actually putting calories in the damn cat.

I spent Christmas at Toad Woods, Geri Sullivan's house, and that was just utterly wonderful. Geri is a superb hostess, the company outstanding, and the food...omg the food. So Much Food. Geri gave me a stocking, and in it was a toy just for Lady Jane. I gave it to her when I got home. Here is a picture of LJG and the Toy that Geri Sent:

(I wanted one that showed LJG's face, but most of those are too blurry, because she really, really, _really_ liked that toy.)

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19th December, 2015. 6:49 am. Conversations with myself

Me: Go to sleep. Really, please.

Me: But I got a shiny new phone. NEW PHONE!

Me: Yes, which you have had for hours. And you have activated it. And you have played with it. And you have loaded the "Dumb Ways to Die" game on it and played that, too. Now go to sleep.

Me: Did you not hear me? NEW PHONE!

Me: Yes, yes, new phone. I get that. But it's bloody well six in the morning, and you have to be at a Board meeting at two, which is like, eight hours from now, and you're not even playing with the damn thing at the moment, you're on your computer reading File770 obsessively. Go the Fuck to Sleep!

Me: You don't get it, do you. NEW PHONE! Phone! Which is New! Also, sleep is for wimps.

Me: Look, you are leaving for NYC next Thursday, you have a million chores to accomplish before you go to work Tuesday night, you have several social engagements, a board meeting, and you need to sleep. RIGHT NOW.

Me: You're just not getting it, are you? I have a PHONE. Which is NEW. And also, I don't want to sleep, and if you wanted me to sleep, why did you make me coffee?

Me: Oh, for pity's sake. That coffee was eight hours ago. You can't blame me for that, now.

Me: Oh, ok. Not the coffee, then. NEW PHONE.

Me: Go To Sleep, or I'll take your phone away.

Me: You and what army?

Me: Fine, I'm just gonna go tell all of LJ what a pain you're being.

Me: They won't care. They'll all want to see my NEW PHONE!

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18th December, 2015. 12:46 pm. It's Friday

... and I had things to say about my cats, but then there were the mimosas. And then it seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to follow the mimosas with a gin and tonic. And then there is now, and saying anything at all is just plain foolish. I could rant about Project Runway Jr., but we would all be sadder after that, so I will just say that I love my cats, I have had many mimosas, and I will rant about some damn thing at some other time. (I am studiously ignoring the gratuitous gin and tonic and I think it would be a kindness if you would do the same.)

Wishing you all a good Friday. Mine is not so bad.

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