Archive for March, 2011

Traveling

March 27, 2011

I lied. I said I was going to blog every moment of this awesome Ireland trip I’m embarking on. I’m in London now, and I realize how that’s never going to happen.

Instead, y’all can wait until I get home and upload my photos. I’ll prob’ly still be tweeting, but otherwise, radio silence for the next 15 days.

I won’t even talk about 221b Baker street yesterday, the march, or the Tower Bridge. Later, when my pictures can talk for me.

To Synopsize

March 21, 2011

I just like that word. Synopses. Synopsis. It’s one of those words that looks more and more wrong the longer you stare at it.

The actual item, however, gets more and more clear the longer I stare at it. Thank god it works that way.

I’ve never used synopses to edit before, and I’m not quite sure why! I’m fixing everything! I currently have three versions of the same story; one old, janky, broken synopsis, one shiny, new, fixed synopsis, and one synopsis where I totally change the genre and several key plot points.

The first one I will keep, simply to laugh at. One of the other two will become the basis for the next re-write, and I can’t freaking wait. I’m finally wrestling this story that I love into submission. Soon, you all will love it as well.

Life’s annoyances

March 18, 2011

Dude, I’m going to Ireland. Like, really soon. Like, next week! I can’t wait!

Aside from the regular tourist bits, I’ve been chatting with folks who either just returned, or lived there recently, and I’ve got some good little secret spots on my list now. A perfumery near the Burren that focuses on local aromas. A yarn store on Inis Mor that sells handspun. The best viewpoint for the Cliffs of Moher, full of “turn at the green mailbox, then hike through the cowfield” directions. I’m so ready.

In the meantime, I’m dealing with the bits and pieces that NEED to get done before I leave. Work shtuff. Taxes. More taxes. Researching what I really need, and what I can get away with not having. More work shtuff.

And, punctuating all my craziness, I keep getting phone calls from the most annoying Debt Relief Service ever. Despite the fact that I never did any business with them, am listed on the Do Not Call Registry, and never even gave them my cell number, they’ve decided to call me at a varying rate for the last year. Some months I only hear from them once or twice; sometimes it’s twice a day for a week.

Each and every time I report them to the Do Not Call Registry. I’m pretty dang sure it’s useless, but I keep doing it. The little jerks are sneaky!

• Very rarely do they call from the same number.
• They never say their real name; the automated message that is the same, every time, doesn’t mention it, and they dance around it when you finally talk to a real person.
• They disconnect QUICKLY if you ask to be removed.
• Actually, they’ve been trained to disconnect if it SOUNDS like you’re going to ask to be removed.

And now they’ve started texting me. There oughtta be a law. Oh wait, there is. If only we had the budget to enforce it.

I’m sure that Registry Complaint line must get thousands of complaints, every day. I’m sure they simply don’t have the manpower to chase after the jerks. I keep complaining. Maybe someday it will help. Until then, I amuse myself (and maybe a few overworked bureaucrats) by adding a running story in the comments area. I think the last time I left my character, Shady Shaderson, he was recuperating from thumb surgery while his company continued on their Evil Master Plan.

Road Zen

March 4, 2011

I love my commute, most days. I ride my bike down to the water, take the ferry over, and repeat at the end of the day with the added bonus of enjoying a beer in the sun on the top deck.

a girl laughing on a ferry

My happy ride home

Some days I have to drive, and if I can bring Boonie dog in with me, it’s usually worth it.

And some days it’s hell. Road-rage inducing, inch-by-inch hell. The last tenth of a mile in the city, the last little uphill bit before I hit the bridge, has taken me longer than an hour to get through. Today it was only 45 minutes.

It’s not the time sink that bothers me. I’ve got some freaking amazing podcasts (although, pseudopod my dear, if you don’t come back soon I may lose my mind. Nothing gets me through traffic like your lovely, lovely horror) and I can chill out and wait my turn.

What bothers me is that I am forced to be an asshole. In certain parts of downtown San Francisco, at certain hours, if you’re not a law-breaking jackass then you’re simply not going to move. Most of the time I pull off and go get a drink instead. Several times I’ve even parked my car, BARTed home, and returned to pick it up the next day.

Today, I decided to push it. I decided that no matter what, I would not block the intersection. I would not be the person whom perpendicular drivers honked at, and upon whose hood pedestrians slammed angry fists. When the light turned green, I would not drive, not until I was sure there’d be a spot in the clear for me before the light turned red again.

Seven times that light cycled. And each time jackasses from every side blocked the intersection and blocked me out. I finally had to move, only because the driver behind me was threatening me with a shiv. I decided to break one law in order to keep him from breaking a much more important one (important to me and my kidneys, anyway).

It’s the prisoner’s dilemma. If everyone is polite and obeys the laws, we all get home in an hour. If you’re a jackass and the other car is lawful, you get home in half an hour and the nice schmuck gets home in three.

Actually, it’s worse than that. If you’re nice and polite, you never, ever get home because the rest of the people around you have bodily picked your car up and heaved you into the bay.

 

Road Rage photo is by Irish Typepad.

How to Knit a Heart Back Home

March 1, 2011

Woot! Sighting of @RachaelHerron’s new book!, originally uploaded by jujuwiz.

Yay! The wonderful Rachael Herron (who just happens to share a last name with me, didja know?) has a new book out as of today! That’s it, front and center, with a big red yarny heart popping out of a white cover. Dang if I don’t love the cover change now. First cover was GORGEOUS, with R’s sweaters in a staged photo, cute and playful, and of-a-kind with her first book.

But it didn’t pop. That sucker pops. Yay, yay, yay!