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dragonlady7This weekend has, predictably, flown by.
Saturday we took Dude's elderly aunt's car to Rochester to try to get some miles on it so it would pass inspection. (It had work done that reset the computer that records emissions data, and without the data, it can't prove that it passes. It needs to be driven. It's an '06 Buick Lucerne with 60,000 miles on it, and we figured out that means 4600 miles per year, on average, and when you consider her husband passed away two or three years ago and her mileage went way down without medical appointments for him, well... that car doesn't get out much.)
So we hung out with my BFF in Rochester, and her kids. Her husband (also an old friend; I introduced them to each other, in 2001 or so) is out of town for the weekend, so it was just us. Dude played Lego with the kids, while BFF and I tandem sewed them little stuffed felt stars as toys, and then they played with those felt stars for about 20 minutes, and then I went with them and played I Spy from the front windows, which was unsatisfying as there are only about three colors out there nowadays, and BFF and Dude tried to debug the app she uses to order pizzas, without success. We then all reconvened, and watched an episode of Barbie's Dreamhouse Whatever It Is, which was actually kind of funny, and then we came back to Buffalo to return the car.
Dude and I then went and got dinner at a local diner that is normally staffed by extremely efficient unsmiling lesbians in sweater vests, but on a slow Saturday night it was instead staffed by a spectrum of ambiguously-presenting men, much less charming than the dour and doughty Sapphic titans who never fail to bedazzle me with their efficiency during the brunch rush. There was a song on the shitty boombox whose chorus seemed to me to be something along the lines of "crystal healing, crystal healing" but my phone's What The Fuck Is That Song app did not oblige with an identification, and then a really shitty remix of Intergalactic came on so we left. (I mean, we left because we were done, but.)
Today I have practiced a lot of banjo, as has Dude; his thing today was to laser-focus on the last bar of a song we learned the week before last, trying to master the fingering so he could play it faster. Yikes.
I also worked on some sewing; I'm trying to do crumb quilting? I'm not sure. I very painstakingly seam-ripped apart an old garment to use the fabric, then tried to re-stitch it flat on my sewing machine, and my sewing machine obstinately refused to work at fucking all so I had to tear it out again and wound up ripping the fabric, which means that all the fucking time I spent seam-ripping it was utterly futile, so that was great.
I also somehow have literally 11k in this fanfic document for the small scene-filler I wanted to write for Uprooted, and I think I managed to add less than 100 words to the mammoths novel, so that's annoying as fuck. Nobody's going to read this poorly-paced behemoth, and I don't like it either, but I wrote it.
Oh well-- I think I wrote about 60,000 words of actually unusable garbage last year, so I might as well get it over with this year.
At least I got three loads of laundry done today, and the cat was able to spend a solid two hours out on the sunporch basking, so that was nice. I didn't go outside, but I mean. It's wet as shit out there, and the basement is leaking, so that's great. It's hard to enjoy the warmth when I know that.
But at least I didn't have any anxious pacing this weekend. I worked on stuff, I puttered, and it was okay. Maybe we're through the darkest of the winter.
Saturday we took Dude's elderly aunt's car to Rochester to try to get some miles on it so it would pass inspection. (It had work done that reset the computer that records emissions data, and without the data, it can't prove that it passes. It needs to be driven. It's an '06 Buick Lucerne with 60,000 miles on it, and we figured out that means 4600 miles per year, on average, and when you consider her husband passed away two or three years ago and her mileage went way down without medical appointments for him, well... that car doesn't get out much.)
So we hung out with my BFF in Rochester, and her kids. Her husband (also an old friend; I introduced them to each other, in 2001 or so) is out of town for the weekend, so it was just us. Dude played Lego with the kids, while BFF and I tandem sewed them little stuffed felt stars as toys, and then they played with those felt stars for about 20 minutes, and then I went with them and played I Spy from the front windows, which was unsatisfying as there are only about three colors out there nowadays, and BFF and Dude tried to debug the app she uses to order pizzas, without success. We then all reconvened, and watched an episode of Barbie's Dreamhouse Whatever It Is, which was actually kind of funny, and then we came back to Buffalo to return the car.
Dude and I then went and got dinner at a local diner that is normally staffed by extremely efficient unsmiling lesbians in sweater vests, but on a slow Saturday night it was instead staffed by a spectrum of ambiguously-presenting men, much less charming than the dour and doughty Sapphic titans who never fail to bedazzle me with their efficiency during the brunch rush. There was a song on the shitty boombox whose chorus seemed to me to be something along the lines of "crystal healing, crystal healing" but my phone's What The Fuck Is That Song app did not oblige with an identification, and then a really shitty remix of Intergalactic came on so we left. (I mean, we left because we were done, but.)
Today I have practiced a lot of banjo, as has Dude; his thing today was to laser-focus on the last bar of a song we learned the week before last, trying to master the fingering so he could play it faster. Yikes.
I also worked on some sewing; I'm trying to do crumb quilting? I'm not sure. I very painstakingly seam-ripped apart an old garment to use the fabric, then tried to re-stitch it flat on my sewing machine, and my sewing machine obstinately refused to work at fucking all so I had to tear it out again and wound up ripping the fabric, which means that all the fucking time I spent seam-ripping it was utterly futile, so that was great.
I also somehow have literally 11k in this fanfic document for the small scene-filler I wanted to write for Uprooted, and I think I managed to add less than 100 words to the mammoths novel, so that's annoying as fuck. Nobody's going to read this poorly-paced behemoth, and I don't like it either, but I wrote it.
Oh well-- I think I wrote about 60,000 words of actually unusable garbage last year, so I might as well get it over with this year.
At least I got three loads of laundry done today, and the cat was able to spend a solid two hours out on the sunporch basking, so that was nice. I didn't go outside, but I mean. It's wet as shit out there, and the basement is leaking, so that's great. It's hard to enjoy the warmth when I know that.
But at least I didn't have any anxious pacing this weekend. I worked on stuff, I puttered, and it was okay. Maybe we're through the darkest of the winter.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-04 08:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-04 12:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-04 12:59 pm (UTC)some of them have blue or green hair, but like. it's not like they styled it really, and it's mostly grown out.
their sweater vests fit comfortably but not flatteringly. no one cares: the point is to be comfortable.
they might call you "hon".
it's cash only and a big sign on the wall, handwitten, says "BE NICE OR LEAVE".
they're directly across the street from the university.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-04 01:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-04 01:51 pm (UTC)ZOMG so hot.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 12:54 am (UTC)Ugh I mean. It's a very demi kind of crush. I don't want to actually, you know. Do anything beyond interact with them professionally. And leave giant tips.
This is like. A strip joint, only for demisexual bisexuals. You go to a diner and an unsmiling woman in practical clothing feeds you, extremely efficiently, and you throw all your money at her and go home in a daze.