Mar. 7th, 2017

Hee, those farm stories have been saving my life lately. 

Oh, I have another one from this last visit. So there are signs all over as you enter towns and such in New York that say “Right To Farm Life Law” and I never knew what they meant, and I still sort of don’t– but I think it’s to do with the ordinances allowing for agricultural activities. I’m gonna Google it after I finish here.

Anyway. So. one of the days i was there, after Farmbaby was dropped off at her Montessori Pre-K (where she is thriving, my goodness, I’ll endorse their weirdo methods of teaching anyday!! even if she hasn’t learned the names of the letters), Farmsister and I loaded up the truck with all the trash and recycling and went to the town’s dump and transfer station. (It costs $80/mo to have them come take it away, so Farmsister does it herself.) This was somewhat dirty work, so she was wearing her Carhartt jacket covered in dirt, and her giant rubber boots coated in chicken and pig shit. 

She meant to change prior to leaving the house, but got distracted, and it was only after we’d finished dropping off the trash that she looked down at herself as she walked into the nice suburban grocery store (which is the closest one to her house; the farm’s not really all that rural). “Oops,” she said, and knocked her filthy boot against the curb to dislodge some of the dubious mud. Then she shrugged. “Right to Farm Life, right?” 

Then we bought a cabbage and she pretended like I had to buy it for her so nobody would know she, a vegetable farmer, had bought a vegetable. (Cabbages are storage crops but hers had run out, it’s already March, okay? You can’t make a cole slaw without some form of cole. At least we bought an organic one.)

OK Right To Farm laws are as I suspected, shielding agricultural practices from adverse regulations and nuisance complaints. I doubt pig-shitty boots are included but hey.
Lookit dem paws! My favorite part is probably the one baleful eye watching me compose the photograph. Also the fangs. #chita #catsofinstagram

Example of handlettering from: Modern Lettering from A to Z by Cecil Wade, 1938. New York/Chicago: Pitman Publishing. Via flickr
I was gonna go thru and answer every ask I got about the came for, stayed for meme, but I’m enjoying rereading them too much for just now, so, that might take a while. <3 <3 <3

I did not sleep well again for a second night in a row and have woken up definitely sick, everything kind of hurts and I’m all stuffy and there’s this Looming Impending Doom feeling, bleargh. So. 

I’m wearing too warm an outfit and I still can’t stand to take it off so I’m just going to sit here and bake.

I feel like craaaaaap. :( But, on the plus side, one of the too-warm things I’m wearing is a poncho/ruana thing I got for like $6 from WetSeal and I’ve literally always wanted a poncho (i know, it sounds really tragic, i promise it’s tasteful, black and white border-print plaid, maybe I look like a weirdo but I’m a happy weirdo) and even if it’s made of acrylic I’m pretty delighted. It’s nice to be right about having wanted something! It even has fringe, which I always kind of wanted too. I’ve never let myself buy a poncho because I was like bitch please it’s a rectangle just sew one, but like… I’d have to do it, and as I get older I’m realizing that’s non-trivial. (And if I sewed one it wouldn’t have fringe unless I bought fringe trim and sewed it on which would look dumb as hell.)

Sorry, that was just a load of whining with no entertaining stories in it. But on the upside I just looked back over the Cassian Andor backstory I’ve been working on since the movie, and I was stuck on a difficult scene, but rereading it– it’s actually perfectly reasonable for me to end it where it is, and leave the rest as Hinted-At Backstory. So that’s gonna go up and then I can start posting the Cassian and Kes story I’ve also got like 15k written of (and pick up after leaving poor Kes off in the hands of the Empire, poor wubbie). 

Not like a ton of people are reading the Lost Kings series but some people are, and that means a lot. It’s basically all OCs, I don’t blame people for not being as into it as the close-to-canon or Entertaining AUs Of Popular Characters stuff! It’s good practice for me as I ponder going back to original writing, where Nobody Cares About Your OCs But Wait That’s The Whole Thing. The forever conundrum…

Allllso having posted that chunk of And Go Home has gotten me closer to the part where everyone just goes to Yavin IV and bangs a lot. Spiritually-fulfilling threesomes and such all around. I have been sitting on a phenomenal Jess Pava Explains Some Things To Rey (About PantsFeelings) scene for goddamned ever and I can’t goddamn wait. 
Facebook just popped this up on my “memories” thing. I posted the photo 2 years ago, but it’s from a webcam pic I took close to 10 years ago. 

She was sitting like this again this morning but she takes up a lot more room.
Ugh I was dizzy so I ate food. Now I’m dizzy and nauseated.
This is just a cold, there’s no call for my guts to get involved!!
My new pack of postcards is a heavier cardstock that won’t fit thru my laser printer even tho it says it will, so… have some hand-drawn metallic-ink postcards, for today’s offering.
No on H.R. 354 “Defunding Planned Parenthood”, and no on the GOP Obamacare replacement that weasels funding away from any provider that offers abortions.
Today’s tiny moment of the-opposite-of-Zen:
This item’s UPC code, which I have to type 7 times on various invoices today, without errors, on a 30-second VPN lag, is a perfect dyscalculic nightmare.

Frances McDormand, “Fargo” (Joel Coen, 1996).
i asked how my dude’s day was but i’m so tired and sick and spacey that i can’t hold my own in a conversation so he has been staring at me in expectant confusion a lot and i’m really not sure whether there was a joke or if he’s serious or what’s even going on and maybe i should go lie down.
torrilin reblogged your post and added:

Huh, for me a 2 digit repeat is perfect. Longer is super bad. Or stuff like 6867676523, where it almost has a pattern.

Nah man. A two-digit repeat is fine, but not a cluster like that. The same numbers exist as parts of repeats and not, and I have mistyped it about a thousand times with the repeats in the wrong place, or the wrong number repeated. I probably spent a solid fifteen minutes on the one invoice where it appeared four times, just typing it, fucking up, waiting for the error message to come up, trying again, contemplating eternity.

There was another similar UPC that had a phantom 7 in it, I don’t remember the rest but I kept not being sure if the 7 was there or not.

I’m super good at all the non-repeating regular ones. Everything Promaster starts with 0291440 and I can do that no problem, and everything DJI starts 6958265117 except one thing that doesn’t have that last 7, everything Fuji goes 0741010 or 0741011, everything Nikon is 018208 something, but these were Wexel frames that are a new product for us and I could not deal. 

I’m actually uniquely ill-suited to every single component of this camera store job. It involves every one of my weaknesses, from attention span to numbers to organizational consistency. It’s really astonishing. It tears down the self-esteem every day, but it’s been kind of good for me in another way– it’s proven to me that it really doesn’t fucking matter what talents you have, you just do whatever you have to and that’s how the working world works. 
via replied to your photo “Facebook just popped this up on my “memories” thing. I posted the…”

!!! Chita was so little!!! <3

She was FOUR POUNDS when we adopted her. TEENY AND FEARLESS. Now she is about 11 pounds and a weenie. 

I carried her around on my chest like that when I got home and she tried to murder me for a bowl of Cheetos, which is hilarious because we taught her not to beg for people food but she thinks Cheetos are fascinating. (We didn’t teach her like, the way one teaches animals things properly; just, whenever she begged at the table, we gave her things like raw onions or plain flour, so she learned that we ate dumb shit. She learned about tuna cans from another cat who lived with us for a bit, though, so that jig is up, and in fact freaks out about all cans even though for her entire life, her wet food has come from a pop-top can. It’s truly amazing.)



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