Not Dead, After All

It's been a very, very long time since I've written anything here. Partially, I was a bit burned out on keeping a personal blog, as I didn't feel that I had anything relevant or interesting to say. I did keep my gaming blog, but wrote very little that was personal.

In the past months, things have changed, and I've started writing more personal entries, which no doubt bore the hell out of people who only want to read about gaming. :) So I'm resurrecting a more personal blog, and will keep it at:

I'm in the process of archiving all the entries and uploading them year by year, so all entries may not be uploaded for a bit.

I've kept up to date on everyone's LJs, and I still love keeping in touch from a stalker perspective. :) But part of the reason for not wanting to keep an LJ was a desire for a more open format, that didn't close out non-LJ members (aside from opening anonymous comments).

Anyway, just wanted to let everyone know that I'm not dead...stop by and have a cuppa sometimes, as I will drop by and say hi to you. :)


We watched an interesting (if not totally successful) movie last night, Straightheads with Gillian Anderson. It really made me think about the perceptions of class, and the difference between viewing the movie with American eyes vs. British ones.

The basic plot concerns a career woman who picks up a bit of rough in the form of the kid who comes to install the surveillance system in her new luxe flat. She takes him to a very elegant work party, they end up making love, and then on the way home late that night they almost rear-end a decrepit Landrover with her Lexus. As they rev past them, the kid leans out the window, makes a rude gesture, and yells "wankers!" A few minutes later, they have an unexpected impact with a deer, and the Landrover catches up to them, with disastrous consequences.

The three baddies in the film are dressed in padded gillets, corduroys, motheaten sweaters, and heavy boots. The main one is a farmer. The vehicle is a rusty Landrover probably twenty years old. An American seeing this film would assume that it's one of a thousand "rich urban types meet inbred scary rednecks" movies, and would interpret the film based upon those assumptions. If you live in the UK, however, you have a very different perception of the men. Farmers are rich. Oh, sure, to a man they'll all moan about how cash-strapped they are, but the cost of land in the UK would mean that the main bad guy was probably a millionaire. Puts a whole different spin on the movie, doesn't it? Yes, they're still violent men, but they're the local gentry, and she has no place in their world; there's a touch of droit de seigneur as Gillian Anderson's character is thrown to the group like meat to dogs.

Worth watching, although not a cheery movie, and weak in places. But interesting.

Not dead...yet

It's been ages since I've posted here, and I haven't had the time to catch up with everyone's posts so I've probably missed tons of exciting/disastrous/interesting news from back home (I apologise). Things have been insane, manic, frustrating.

Lolcat is getting bigger, and he's tormenting the old cat unmercifully. I fully expect to come home one night and find Kit hanging in the closet, a little sign around his neck saying "I just couldn't take it anymore". Poor old guy.

After many scans and vet visits, Lizzie's lameness has been diagnosed as a deep flexor tendon injury, which is not a very promising prognosis. Given her less-than-perfect legs and the location of the injury, it's likely that she will injure it again. I'm trying to decide what to do, and at the moment she is on 12 weeks of box rest with bar shoes to try to take some of the stress off the tendon.

Work is manic and wonderful and impossible (too much to do for too few people), and word is going out. We're getting enquiries from mega-huge, possibly evil companies (no, not that one, the other one) who might, or might not, snap off our hand at the wrist rather than putting money in it. Interesting times, as the old curse goes.

Winter is here in the UK, and has been for some time. The central heating is on a timer, and I have a blanket on the arm of my chair that I snuggle under when I read. Days are usually grey, and rain during the day is normal. I'm not ready for winter...I needed a summer to fortify me for the long, cold, grey days.

Still playing way too much Warcraft, in a new guild that I love to bits. A lot of people are either Spanish or Portuguese, which makes a change from the usual ones from Denmark/Norway/Finland/Sweden. In my dreams last night I could hear our raidleader shrieking "Cleeek the cube! What is wrong with you guys? Cleeeek the fooking cube!" in his strong accent over TeamSpeak. lol...

Anyway, back to work. :)
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The Tiniest Superhero early birthday present. :D Thanks, babe. He's a persian mix, very teensie, and we all fall over when he uses his superhero power on us. Teh cuteness! Who can resist?

Unfortunately, Phil's cat can. He's an old cat, very set in his ways, and he's not happy about his house being invaded by a baby. I'm at work today worried about the two of them being there alone in the house together. :(

The kitten will either be Chaos (good name for a superhero), or Laurence (so we can shorten it to Lol and have a lolcat). He sleeps on a pillow on my desk while I'm playing, and when he plays he gets overexcited and races around the room, squeaking as he goes, like some like of manic black spider, up and down the furniture. Totally adorable.
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Best. Quote. Ever.

"If we, a small wicca coven composed in the main of elderly grey-haired ladies in our twilight years with all our infirmities and aches, pains and frailties have inadvertently been 'faster off the mark' to obtain these domain names than a world-class, pin-stripe-suited multi-national like Hammerson then that, quite simply, is 'tough'."

lol...awesome story here:
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DIY Weekend

I've been terrible about posting lately. I do still write, mainly at ravven's glass, which is slowly becoming slightly more personal rather than just gaming. I think I'm a bit bored, maybe, with documenting ordinary life? Not just doesn't seem worth the effort to say "it's raining again today, I stayed up too late last night and I'm tired", and so on.

Anyway, back to the boring stuff...we almost have a finished entry hall! Painted, stripped wallpaper, re-papered, sanded woodwork, and we're in the middle of stripping/grouting/resealing the lovely minton tile that some cretin had glued carpeting on top of. I'll post some pics when we're done. :)

I felt blissfully happy this morning on the way to work, and I realised that I felt that way because it was sunny. :/ That's how much rain we've had here this summer. It's so depressing.

Well, I'm out of things to post about. See what I mean?
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my bad

I know that it's been a long time since I've posted about anything very personal. I'm still alive (sort of), still happy, and the project is going extremely well - was just demoed in the States to much interest. Everything is moving very quickly.

Our crappy weather seems poised to continue indefinitely. There are folk in several sections of the country who's houses still have three feet of water in them, and the damage is massive. I so very, very much want a summer, I need it...this is winter weather, but muggy and humid rather than cold. (Although we do have the fire on in the living room every night - how is THAT for July?)

Oh, yeah - Happy Fourth of July to everyone back home.

I'm looking forward to Sicko and the new Harry Potter book and movie. I've ordered the latest game, as well - or actually I made Phil do it. (How embarrassing.)

I really, really need to get some breathing room, and get my life in order. There are too many nights when I am so stressed and exhausted from work that I come home and cocoon in a chair with a book and comfort food and waaay too much vodka. Sometimes it's medicinal, and I feel better for doing it, and sometimes it feel like self-harming. That may sound strange, but I used to cut as a teen, and it feels like the same sort of release mechanism. Either way, it's not healthy, I'm tired, I'm gaining weight, and I need to get fit again.

Personal list (boring) under the cut, while I'm thinking about it:

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*squee* *bounce* *bounce*

We just demoed the new Top Sekrit project for our CEO, who was very excited and wants a finished version to demo in front of investors next week. SO FUCKING AWESOME to be in charge of the team that is doing something that no one else has done yet. This was my dream and I was so lucky to get the resources to run with this, and incredibly brilliant people to work with.

*happy dance*

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Dumplings, and an 800th Anniversary

Last night we watched an interesting, very disturbing movie that Phil had rented from Amazon knowing that I love Asia Extreme horror movies: Dumplings. I won't tell you why it made me so squeamish, but it is worth renting. It wasn't a horror movie at all, but more of a, I don't know, psychological suspense/drama? Definitely not your standard fare. (ha, ha)

When we went into the centre of town to get a Father's Day card for Phil's dad, we realised (when it dawned on us that all the streets were blocked off) that it was the 800th anniversary of the charter of our town. There were tons of people, parades with all the town officals and service clubs were dressed in medieval costume, riding horses, etc. There were musicians and jugglers and wolfhounds...wonderful. I ate a rabbit pie for lunch from a market stall, and got an American-style brownie that was liquid in the centre. I wish that I'd known, as I would have brought my camera with me. :(

The vet confirmed my suspicion that Lizzie has Cushing's Disease. Hell and damn. She still has the coat of a mouse, but she drinks and pees a lot, she has the typical pads of fat over her eyes, and her feet are over the next few years, it will get worse. This will make it tough to sell her...great timing, with a £6k tax bill to pay. I suppose the best that I can do is to adopt her into a good home, if I can find one that I trust...perhaps with a dressage instructor who will treat her responsibly at the end. I don't know what to do right now.

This Is Who I Am

On the weekend Phil and I were at the market, standing in the checkout line. A very elderly gentleman walked up to us and struck up a conversation.

"I can't remember what I came in for. I came in for a large scotch and some bent bananas, and I'll probably walk out with a tin opener."

We smiled politely in that way that you do when strangers that you don't want to talk to start conversations. And he was off and running...obviously all there mentally, very sharp and even funny, but so desperate to talk to someone.

During the short conversation he volunteered the information that he used to be a glider pilot. Phil told me a bit about them later - these were soldiers who were towed and then released, where they could basically crash-land behind enemy lines to secure bridges, etc. This would make him eighty-ish.

He was charming, but we moved on as soon as we could, paid for our groceries and walked out. And I had tears in my eyes thinking that it would be hell to be so lonely, that you would go to the market every single day even if you didn't buy anything, just so that you could say to someone "this is who I was...I am not this person that you see, I was brave." Yes, he's mobile and he can obviously take care of himself, but horrible to be so lonely.

Our village needs the New York-style chessboards in the park, where all of the old-timers can gather for free and talk. Yes, there are pubs, but pints cost money.

I never want to be alone...
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