“Dad! Did you get a picture of the weather for me?” asked the 7-year old.
I was obliging, but she was confused.
Meteorology is disappointing to the kid.
“That’s the same thing you took last time!” she said, and was clearly frustrated by this. She’s just starting to learn about weather patterns, but unfortunately, she’s also in Louisiana. Our weather is…chaotic at best.
Today’s regiment in writing is focused on two things: the science fiction novel and updating characters in the Sidewinder Stories. The latter is not something I normally do, but after seeing players forget to update certain notes on their sheets (and thus being unable to survive an encounter) I’ve taken to checking on everyone and making sure they’re all up-to-date.
Might have to write up a “So You’ve Leveled Up” essay in the GameMaster Notes. Something to work on.
I told Han that I was getting back into the habit of my posts, and she was delighted. “Take a picture today!” she said as she jumped out of the car at drop-off.
Welp, I told her I would, didn’t I?
“Pretty!” says the 7-yr old, while the mailman says “Eugh.”
Along with that was a startling but familiar activity while we had dinner with my mother: without preamble, mom started braiding my hair.
“It’s long enough that you pretty much have to braid it,” she said, “or it’s going to just going to be messy.”
Damn, it’s been a minute since this happened.
During my extremely brief stint in college, I used to braid my hair in the morning. I never got the hang of it, but I could get to at least be comfortable. Guess I need to look up YouTube videos and teach myself all over again. Or maybe Han will try.
(There will be so many knots in my hair if I let her, but she’ll learn by practice)
But there’s mail to move, Kung Fu forms to practice, and a session to prepare for in the next day. Meanwhile, I can agonize over how to set up donations and subscriber content on this site. That’s a whole new anxiety, and that’s what life needs at my age: new experiences!
All right, all right. I’ve been pretty quiet on this for a little while, and I’ve said repeatedly that I would get back to daily posts. Unfortunately, the last couple of times I have tried getting back in the habit, I’ve had things come up that demanded my attention. Hopefully, this time I will stick to it.
Foremost in my ‘distractions’, we had a bad scare among our animals. Korra, our youngest dog at age 8, was diagnosed with advanced pyometra and required an emergency surgery. The doctors told us she had a less-than 50% chance of surviving.
Day of surgery, and she was really weak from blood loss.
Sarah and I agonized over whether or not we’d attempt the surgery. There was no knowing if she’d survive going through the procedure, but we decided that our little water-wolf would try to survive as much as possible. We brought the family out to the emergency hospital and spent what time we thought we had left with the pup.
There were tears and confused questions from the kids, but even our 5-yr old knew that Korra was hurting and said he hoped she got through okay. It was a long, long day of awaiting the news.
Korra proved to be stronger than anyone expected.
She’s been recovering ever since, and had her sutures removed a few days ago. We’re still watching over her, and the vet warned me that the pyometra means she will inevitably be diagnosed with a cancer, but for now she’s energetic and yipping at me for attention.
Secondly in my distractions is the same duo that has plagued me for years and years: procrastination and imposter’s syndrome. It’s infuriating to know what your problem is even when it robs you of your creativity. But staring at this screen and being mad at myself isn’t going to get the work done, so I’m here making sure I’ve set aside the time to handle my writing and website maintenance.
I know Hannah’s been asking me to post her weather photos again, so at the least I need to write those again. Or the kid will get mad at me. There are a few essays I keep thinking to write but looks at above paragraph, I keep putting them off.
But hey, it’s Sunday. Good day to get back in the habit.
Stay safe out there, readers. I’ll have something for y’all tomorrow.
While I will admit upfront that I am a millennial, and there is an admittedly-amusing stereotype about my generations’ obsession with avocado toast, you’ve got to admit that this looks gorgeous and appetizing.
My local coffee shop has branched out into serving their own foods, and I had 30 minutes to sit around before my shift. I finally tried it, and it’s definitely a good quick meal.
This may be surprising to everyone, considering the amount of stress it puts on my shoulders, but I’m very proud of being a United States Postman.
If management could stop throwing their authority club around for five minutes, they’d be surprised at how well I do my job. But alas, some people shouldn’t be in power and it shows.
That aside, I’ve been collecting US Mail memorabilia over the past few years. They’ve been small things, really. Clothes, mostly. But a Postmaster caught wind of this and showed me something that, she believed, would be a welcome addition to my collection. Also, a way to clear up some clutter in her office.
And she was right on both counts!
Damn, that’s pretty.
I have no idea where to put this thing, but it’s going up on a wall somewhere, by thunder.
If you know me personally, then you’ve heard that title used since I was 12 years old. If you don’t, you’re about to be somewhat confused and eventually exasperated. My apologies.
Now, there is such a thing as a Black Dog in folklore. It’s an English legend that is seen as an incredibly large black dog with red glowing eyes. They were associated with evil or demonic entities, or were the harbingers of death (I prefer the word ‘doom’, but that’s the storytelling nerd talking).
Storytellers have used them before. JK Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes and the Hound of the Baskervilles used the Black Dog as major plot points. I even have a D&D short series campaign that has a Blink Dog take on the motif, somewhere in my files.
(That plot line may never be used, sadly. I like writing horror campaigns, but players never seem to want to get into the setting.)
For me personally, though, the Black Dog is a tavern I’ve never been to but always wanted to, and a shirt that I wore so habitually I could’ve given Doug Funnie a run for his money. Unfortunately, due to nearly 15 years of wear and washing, that shirt had fallen apart, and while I have a collection, I never owned another red colored shirt.
Until a friend of mine in Virginia sent a parcel down for Christmas.
Ahhh, it’s like I’ve come home.
And so begins a new era of the Black Dog. Thanks, Jason!
Stay safe out there, readers! I’ll be working on the next session this evening.
During the mad scramble of house chores that routinely plague me on a day off, I heard the kids in the next room and repeatedly requesting a certain movie.
“Dad! Dad, could we watch that one?” they asked, pointing at an animated movie I was unfamiliar with. I also did not have my glasses on, so I couldn’t make out the finer details on the screen.
I knew it said “Klaus” and figured it was just another Christmas movie, so I agreed and went back to the dishes. Little did I know that the plot of the movie involved points I was very familiar with.
…sigh…
I will never escape work, even when I put away everything that could remind me of it. Eventually, I’ll unknowingly start a movie that revolves around a postman.
Never fails. Stay safe out there, readers. I’ll be writing this evening.
They’re all happy we’re home. Penelope the cat was particularly angry at being boarded, but after a few scratches to make sure I never leave the house again, she’s back to trying to take over the dog bed.
Welp, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t some some kind of hand injury every four months or so. Normally, they’re so small that I don’t even notice until a couple days afterward.
And sometimes, I almost lose a finger.
Yowza.
As soon as we got home, we realized that we had a massive weather change ahead of us. We went from Florida’s 75-80 degrees Fahrenheit (23-26 degrees Celsius) to Louisiana’s 24-32 (-4 to 0), and the house doesn’t have central heat. That means we need a fire, and a fire needs kindling.
Only I forgot to make the kindling before we left, so I was in the carport with the kindling knife and block of sap-filled wood, shivering and chastising myself for not being prepared.
That kindling knife is my Cutco utility knife, and you get what you pay for when you shell out almost $200 for a blade. The thing can cut through steel, and I’m normally very paranoid when using it. When I set it into the kindling block, I had my other hand in (what I thought) a safe area far enough away to avoid injury.
Alas…the blade is nearly 6 inches (15 centimeters) long, and when it cuts into a soft pocket of sap, it goes straight through. The same also applies to fingers.
Shunk, went the blade, and I knew I was in trouble. After cleaning the blade and securing everything, I left a small blood trail as I staggered into the house in the late hours to patch myself up. But as you can see from the scars, this isn’t my first rodeo with first aid. Got it put back together, pressure on the wound, and sealed it. Took pain medication for the night and scheduled a stop with the doctor in the morning.
I’m looking forward to the looks of consternation I’ll getting from the family as they wake up to see my hand bloodied and bandaged (again). And they wonder why I have ‘chainmail gloves’ on my Wish List.
Swift's Corner 