wishfulaces: (Default)
So last month my mom and I, randomly, wrote a fairy tale. Via texts. Y'know, a sentence or two at a time, back and forth.

I cleaned it up a bit for typos, auto correct shenanigans, and my mom's inability to find the quotes on her phone )

My Auntie Ethel died yesterday. This grief is strange to me--she's been fading away for years now, mentally, to the point the past few times I've seen her I'm not always sure she remembers who I am, only that she knows and likes me; my mom today said she's been missing her sister for years, and it's true. (We used to have such conversations--she was the best aunt for a precocious pre-teen, who would sit and listen and engage; I could still talk to her about what I was studying up until grad school.) And after the wrench that was my dad last year, after the pain and duty that came after his passing, this is...strangely light. I can grieve without having to worry about who will look after mom and how the hell do I administer an estate and who will take care of the cat. I can just be sad.
wishfulaces: (sundays)
This is the first day in longer than I care to think about in which I have not ridden in or driven a car and stayed absolutely at home. I took a walk to the grocery store, I did in fact sit out on my back patio and read a while, as well as getting some tidying done (not as much with the cleaning, though after I sweep & mop my kitchen will be the most beautiful it's been in weeks), and it's nice to have days like this sometimes. If only I were writing something right now, it'd be perfect.

And I just spent the past 90 minutes cooking, which was fabulous. I forget how much I enjoy mixing and chopping and stirring things when I don't get to do them for long stretches, or have to do them when I'm in a rush because I have to be somewhere else. I think I need to make this a goal for more weekends: COOK. BAKE.

(It helps that it's finally the right time of year again. Oh, autumn, keep being awesome with your slanted sunlight and cooler days and pumpkins. No, really, it's all about the pumpkin this time of year.)
wishfulaces: (miracles and wonder)
A Town Called Mercy )

The Power of Three )

I hate my nose (this is a constant whining refrain these weeks), and I have planned all along that today I would clean house, cull crap to take to Good Will, and otherwise make this place less of a pigsty, but it looks gorgeous and inviting and cool and autumn-y outside, and I would much rather sit on my back patio and read. Blah. I only get the reward after I do some of the work, right?

wishfulaces: (rory)
I'm in this little singing group, of six women with a female accompanist, and I'm the youngest by almost 15 years, and sometimes the ladies drive me batty with their chattiness when I want to get down to business and sing, and sometimes the ladies piss me off something fierce when they start going conservative Christian on me (where I live, it's sadly par for the course, and I keep telling myself just by living here I subvert the norm), but when they focus, when we're singing...it's beautiful. We sound really wonderful together, especially when harmonizing.

And I'm a total switch hitter in this group, jumping around between first and second soprano and first alto, and I'm used to doing the harmonizing. I enjoy harmonizing, when I do it right, I enjoy hearing myself help complete a chord. I'm not used to singing the melody in the first soprano line, but I do on a couple songs we're rehearsing right now, and--suddenly I get it. Hearing my voice rise above the crowd, and hitting the notes sweet and true, holding the harmonies together with my melody--it's fantastic.

Or maybe it's just my control freakiness taking over another aspect of my life. Whatever, I'm enjoying it.
wishfulaces: (dance)
One of my choirs had their concert Monday night--HUZZAH--the other is having its concert this Saturday night--HUZZAH--and all this means that for a few months I will blessedly only be singing in one group. (I told my work minion the other day "Don't let me do all three choirs again in the fall, please. Remind me how crazed I was right now." We'll see if I hold myself to that.)

The concert Monday night was funny in a way--we were doing songs of the American composers, and the third to last song was a spiritual arranged by Moses Hogan. I always feel weird singing spirituals, especially when I'm in choirs that are almost entirely white, but apparently we did a good enough job that somebody in the audience was moved to holler during the song, which led the entire choir and the director to blink a lot and look around at each other in confusion because, dude, the audience doesn't interact with us while we're still singing! I kept laughing after the song was over during the wild applause, pure physical reaction to the unexpected emotion. It did make the last two songs of the concert much more fun for all of us, I have to say.

And last night I drove to a town an hour away to watch the dance troupe Pilobolus, and they strongly felt to me like they were coming out of a modern dance tradition (okay, a lot of their movements probably belonged to other traditions, but I recognized some of those moves from my own dance classes), and the group philosophy is about groups interacting and working together as individuals, and I could definitely see that. They were very definitely individuals, and it was a different feel from other dance troupes I've seen that worked much more--harmoniously? Cohesively? It was interesting, but I was usually not as emotionally moved as I am by movement--a bit like that a capella group I saw there last year, that sounded technically gorgeous but had no soul for me.
wishfulaces: (miracles and wonder)
Well over a year ago, my aunt got me an African violet. I managed to keep it blooming, so my aunt gave me two she'd received that had stopped blooming after the initial flowers. Now, about a year later, I've managed to get both those plants to bloom again. (My poor aunt took it with good grace when she saw the pictures.)

Speaking of pictures, have some. )
wishfulaces: (hobbit hands)
Last night my choir director was about to have us finish rehearsal by working on the "Estampie Natalis" piece, but then he said "Wait, I lied, we're not going to do that" (for the dozenth time at least during this rehearsal), and he stepped away from his music stand and leant against the pulpit--we rehearse in a church--and told us thank you for being in this choir, and thank you for helping this choir exist. Because it's a nonauditioned choir of mixed voices and talents and not every community has such a choir, and it's a time of year to think about such things for which we are thankful.

And so he had us mix again--tenors next to sopranos next to altos next to basses; we'd done a little of that earlier in the evening when struggling to stay in tune and on key--and we sang "The Gift" instead. And I had tears in my eyes because I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and because ten years ago this Thanksgiving my Uncle Buddy died, and this year has kinda been all about that mortality and grief and love that is such an essential part of life.

Back in June 2009, I wrote about things I love, and Thanksgiving that year I wrote about things for which I was grateful, and it all still holds true.

Tomorrow night I fly back to see my parents, who are still on dial-up, so happy turkey day, Americans; and happy week, everyone else; and thank you for being your awesome selves.
wishfulaces: (hobbit hands)
I've been happy a lot again the past few weeks. I don't trust it, I don't believe in it--I so rarely do, and I think this is a byproduct of being an adult because I'm pretty sure I trusted in being happy when I was a kid--but I've been happy a lot the past few weeks and I keep telling myself, just run with it, you idiot.


(My friend told me I'm "lighter." And the more I think about it, I think she's right.)

I cooked myself dinner tonight, and I had a glass of Fat Tire, and I'm going to bake a pumpkin coffeecake later tonight (SO GOOD) and catch up on my tellys, and tomorrow I get to sleep in because I have a three-day weekend. I haven't had a three-day weekend in so very long. And then I get to hang out with a friend Saturday, and go to another couple of friends' house party Saturday evening (which is apparently going to be pre-Thanksgiving, since there will be turkey and I'm damned well bringing the pumpkin coffeecake), and it's supposed to be a gorgeous weekend, and life is kinda beautiful right now.
wishfulaces: (music)
Tonight I saw the Yamato drummers of Japan and they were kickass. The choreography, the theatricality of the show, the backdrops and use of screens and lighting--seriously, the lighting, all these rich reds and oranges of sunrise or sunset and cold blues of twilight and night, and the transitions between were really well orchestrated--and, of course, the drumming itself was brilliant. Talk about fine muscle control, and I think the rhythms are still thrumming through me (I can't imagine how the drummers feel still, an hour or two after the show is over). One guy had John Shepard hair, which was surprising and a little distracting, and he happened to be the main goofball who happened to have a partner in crime that was not at all like Rodney McKay. Actually, John Shepard!hair helped me realize what some of the movements with the drum sticks were strongly reminding me of, why they felt so familiar--Teyla's stick fighting moves. (And speaking of hair, I totally developed an instant girl!crush on one of the drummers, all because of her fabulous, fabulous hair.)


Hey, look! [livejournal.com profile] lunate8 has podficced "Life in the 21st Century" - check it out!. I've never had anybody want to podfic the same story twice before, this is really cool. Actually, the response generally to this fic has been wicked and cool. Oh, Hardison, how you so awesome?


Okay, I'm getting up stupidly early for a weekend in order to go to a pub crawl for cancer with a bunch of people I don't know. This could either go fantastically or be one of the bigger mistakes of my life. Whoopee?
wishfulaces: (fly)
The thing about my job is, I find myself tracking down information about truly random digressions in history. Like Dorothea Dix's crusade to...send a lot of boats to an island in Nova Scotia to save people. IDEK, but it made for an entertaining afternoon?

I got back from my trip to Belgium and Amsterdam earlier this week. Things I learned and/or did during the ten days I was traveling:

1. My nose really, really hates dry recycled air, such as found in airports & on airplanes.
2. Having Belgian friends who have Belgian friends comes in REALLY HANDY when you miss the last train from Ghent to Brussels & need a place to crash for a few hours.
3. You really probably can get a contact high in Amsterdam, and the city really is apparently mostly populated by British tourists on stag parties.
4. I am a far, far more confident traveler than I used to be. Like, even since last year.
5. It's okay to squabble and get pissed off with your friends, because they're your friends and are squabbling and pissed off with you, and then you end up drinking beer across the street from a church older than the U.S. has existed as a country under an awning while the rain falls at midnight, sharing stupid blogs to read when you're bored at work and need a five minute break. Or you're tickle-attacking on the bed while trying to pack, or in the midst of a deep philosophical discussion about the reason and need for history, but that's another story.
6. I need to live in a city with canals. I also need to visit Venice, like, stat. And go back to Germany for a cuckoo clock for my mom. (That's just an excuse. I really just need to go back to Germany. And get to a lot of other countries too, but that will be another year.)
7. Blame T for everything. Everything. She might be in the bathroom getting a shower, but that broken bowl in the kitchen is still totally her fault.
8. Belgian chocolate really is just that good. As are wasabi peas, especially when one's nose really, really hates dry recycled air.

There's more. It was good, and I haven't really had time to process yet, but that's what this weekend is for. I might even get around to posting pictures. In sum, My Summer Vacation in Belgium: we ate a lot of fries, drank a lot of beer, and bought a lot of chocolate. And it was good.
wishfulaces: (emerson says what)
I am tired! and cranky! and tired! and sick! and stressed out! and cranky! and did I mention tired!? And I griped at my mom all afternoon and evening, and she bought me a beautiful blown glass paperweight just because as a surprise from an art glass gallery I pointed out to her yesterday as we drove past, telling her I really needed to get in there sometime, and, just, yeah. I think I could have done today over and made it better.

Everything will be fine. And, in the grand scheme of things, the things stressing me out right now will have faded away by next week. Mostly.

I just need to keep reminding myself of that.
wishfulaces: (fandom collision)
Read more... )

In other news, IT'S SPRING. Today was the first time in a few days that it was cooler and rainier--it's been warm and sunny since last week, and I have the sunburn to prove it--and so in consequence, apparently, I have been chipper and cheerful and giddy and gleeful. Until today, of course. I hope it's sunny again tomorrow.
wishfulaces: (PARKER and HARDISON are awesomer than yo)
Ficlet, in response to last night's Leverage Christmas episode:

mildly spoilery, and a little bit Parker/Hardison )
wishfulaces: (sam'n'vala)
Title: lighter than the heart
Fandom/characters: Doctor Who, Peri/Erimem, the Doctor
Rating: all ages
Word count: approx. 2100 words
A/N: for the [livejournal.com profile] dw_femslash marathon, written for [livejournal.com profile] glinda_penguin. Hugely spoilery for the Big Finish story “Bride of Peladon.”
Summary: Always travel lighter / than the heart, “Packing for the Future: Instructions,” by Lorna Crozier

Read more... )
wishfulaces: (sam'n'vala)
Title: Travel broadens the wardrobe
Author: aces
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: all ages
Warnings: not spoilery for the most current series
Word count: about 1000 words
A/N: for a fic bingo hosted by [livejournal.com profile] the_tenzo, from the card here; I used Romana, wardrobe room, crack!fic, Amy Pond, and Omega. (Okay, the Omega bits are probably stretching, but it’s CLOSE ENOUGH for crack!fic.)

Read more... )

Title: the earth below us was dancing with lights
Author: aces
Fandom: Stargate SG-1 (original team)
Read by: er, aces
Length: not quite four minutes (3.58 mb)
Download: from here

I suppose I could even supply the text, all 630 words of it )
wishfulaces: (SIGH)
Ahhh, that lovely time of year in these United States when all you can hear of an evening, long before the sun even thinks about going down, is THE BLOODY FIRECRACKERS POPPING EVERYWHERE.

It has been quite lovely the past couple days, though.

ETA: I got the American Community Survey thingy from the Census Bureau today--the way-more-detailed questionnaire than the one everybody's getting this year--and the introductory letter said my information would be kept confidential. And I was thinking about the 72-year rule when at least certain census records are released--assuming these electronic records will even be available 72 years from now and let me tell you, that is a very good question, let's not even talk about censuses from the past few decades--and then I was thinking, "I will almost certainly be dead by then." Which is kinda the point of the 72 year rule, but still, it was a bit of a shiver-down-the-back feeling.
wishfulaces: (yellow roses)
Okay. I'm just going to say this because it is worth noting. I have been happy since, um, mid-March or so, I think. Not just okay, or fine, or even good, but happy. Like, dance-around-work-when-no-one-is-looking-and-grin-for-no-good-reason happy. I have crappy days, I want to cry for all the shit things we do to ourselves and to each other but, on the whole, I am happy.

It's strange, and wonderful, and I kinda want to cling to it forever and bottle it and give it away to everybody I meet because it's worth so much more than selling. I'm not even trying to fight the giddiness.

So, flist, have some happy. *hugs and snogs you all*


I have started reading the Nero Wolfe books finally. My mother's voice is in my ear, as always, saying she didn't like them because Archie is no Donald Lam. And no, he isn't, but he drinks milk, which I find ridiculously charming--Archie is also very definitely no Nick Charles--and I can hear Timothy Hutton saying his lines, and he and Wolfe live in each other's pockets and I always love that in fictional characters, even though I know if anybody lived in my pocket I would probably beat them with an ice scraper like I almost did that stupid bug that got stuck in my car this morning and would NOT GO BACK OUT THE WINDOW because it apparently thought it could fly through the windshield. But I digress. Slightly. I'm only halfway through the first book still, but I am glad to have a new-old author to read. (And one of these days, I have to finish the Donald Lam books too.)
wishfulaces: (sunflowers)
I have decided today that the best way to celebrate one's birthday is to take a half-day off work so that one can sleep in a little, walk to the store for the milk she forgot she needed, enjoy a breakfast of chai (with the newly-bought milk) and muffin on her back patio while reading a new book, and eventually go into work only to leave early in order to run some errands and get a haircut.

Speaking of which, I should probably get ready for work now.


wishfulaces: (Default)

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