Gotta get a jewelry post icon. I figure a pirate kitty is not quite close enough. Cute, though!

I keep meaning to post in-progress reports and photos of jewelry projects. I've been taking classes again for just over a year, and it's been great.

I just sent off a package with five-count-em-FIVE projects. Three of them date from this past year, and the other two were older projects that relate to the new projects.

Projects are:

1. An old project of swirly wires, sent off for molding and duplication in silver.
2. A larger version of that project #1, also sent for molding and duplication in silver.

3. An entirely different older project, sent for molding and pulling of wax models. This is a cool piece, but I want to do some small variations on it, so I'm getting the wax models to play with. I could remake it from scratch in metal every time (it's not complicated), but wax is easier. It is also cheaper, so I don't mind if I make a mistake.

4. A wax model of a ring, to be cast in silver. This one is for me.
5. A wax model of a ring, to be cast in gold. This one is for my sister.

My sister's ring is going to be pricey, what with gold north of $1100/ounce these days. My sis has big hands, and consequently can't find ladies' rings in her size. This is a feminine ring, with elaborate piercing you would never see on a man's ring, but at a scaled-up size that looks proportionate on C's hand. The piercing was a good thing, though--every shaving meant metal I don't have to pay for.

Anyway, I'm all wiggly now. These are one-of-a-kind items, and I've just entrusted them to UPS.

Also, have NO IDEA what my sister's ring will cost. It's impossible to tell. I suppose I could have gotten a graduated cylinder and pushed the model under (it's wax, it floats) to get a real volume measurement, then calculated that with the density of 14k gold and come up with a number.

But, you know, I'm not maradydd. I don't have graduated cylinders sitting around the house.

Hi, all!

On Saturday, my cat vomited a bit..first food, then some bile/water. No diarrhea. On Monday morning, the same occurred with two instances of diarrhea. She was fine for the rest of the day. She's been drinking a lot of water and she has been eating the same food she has always had. Today she had diarrhea one time, no vomiting. She is not dehydrated, she's still drinking plenty of water. She is interested in playing and does not seem to be in any pain. Do you think this warrants a trip to the vet? I might have taken her already but I am quite ill and can't leave the house for a little while and because I have not been able to go to work I have no money. Any thoughts?

The posts for prompts are now open until Nov 17th so please toddle on over with your ideas!

annnnnnnnnnnd I have now loafed the bread and set it to rise, roasted tomatillos and onions and chilis and garlic to make green chili to freeze, made and consumed ANOTHER pot of tea...

and written 1804 words, which brings me to the blessed number 10,010, or... a tenth of a book.

Yeah, I'm pretty proud of myself.

And Word knows "shibboleth." Just for the record.

Mean things: the kids a re fighting, Danilaw is trying to be a good leader, Godwin's Law.

10010 / 100000 words. 10% done!

And now I will listen to Morning Edition, bake that bread, eat something, and go climbing.

On and off, this year, I've been reading about WWI and the effects of it into the 1920s: memoirs, letters, social histories, more theoretical and thesis-driven histories, poetry. Photographs. Mostly memoirs, which tell me with a more limited amount of self-censorship what people saw and thought and felt. I paid a visit to the War Museum a few weeks ago and stood in the room they've done up like a trench, eyes half-closed, ignoring everyone else in there and trying to soak it in down to the bone.

This is for a book. It won't even be about the First World War as it happened, not really. I'm reading for the emotions, and to find what I need to change to make my idea work.

Thing is, wading sleeves-rolled into a topic does things to how you think.

I have caught myself unaccountably angry this year when someone uses lightly the phrase "in the trenches"; as in, "for those strikers in the trenches, that's not good enough." I want to shake that person: Really? They're in the trenches? Are they eighteen years old, sleeping with the rats in churned up mud, and under consistent artillery assault? No? So shut your face. Yes, it's a colloquialism of our language as spoken. I know. I have caught myself passing my first pair of hand-knit socks over and over through my hands, thinking about how they took me three months to knit up, how women must have done it better and faster and with so much more practice to be able to send socks for entire navy ships. What it was like when they thought about where their socks went. What it would feel like if what I do for a hobby was one of my only mechanisms of control over something terrifying.

This year, I read the articles and hear the speeches and see the photographs and I cry. Yeah, it's a trite thing to say. But there you go. I cry.

I'm not even halfway into the kind of research I'll need to do to get this right. Tip of the iceberg, kids. Tip of the iceberg.

---

Today is strange. Today's a bit of a paradox for me right now. Sometimes you think you know what a thing means until you start doing your reading, and you realize the edges of what it means. We all know poppies. We all know In Flanders Fields the poppies grow between the crosses row on row, mostly heard internally as the kind of singsong recitation kids do when they've been made to memorize. Remembrance Day is most definitely those things, and wreath-layings, and these kindly aging people, fewer and fewer of them each year, who come out in uniforms that seem so anachronistic on them. And I wonder what we're actually remembering. If those things haven't, in some ways, become not just the means but the ends of the whole affair.

The connections between symbols and referents inherently get loose, with time; it happens to words too. With words it's called semantic bleaching, when a thing stops meaning what it means and drifts toward a general good or bad. It's a human tendency: People's ideas of a thing, through repetition, start to spin and drift, and all symbols need to be redefined, be personalized, be ultimately co-opted in a million million little ways to stay at all socially relevant. It's the peril of traditions. After a while, you do a thing because you do, not because of whatever started it. Not because you don't care or are a bad person or something, but because that's the human tendency. That's semantic bleaching: that's what happens. We're here because we're here because we're here because we're here.

When I've started the research; when I've looked at the photographs and read the letters and tried to immerse myself in it, tried to think about what I'm not seeing and will never see, that upsets the hell out of me.

(And no, I am not expressing this right to get it clear across. I've rewritten in three times, and half the logic's still in my head and not on the page here. But I'm all dragged down in my own symbols and referents too, and it's unfortunately the best I can do.)

I am fortunate to have never lost someone I know to war, or even had a close family member who was in a war. My grandfathers were too young for WWI and too old for WWII. My dad was 4F from Korea. My uncle served in the navy in the narrow gap between Korea and Vietnam. Of my male cousins, one had no interest in joining the military, and the other, while in ROTC at college, suffered a career-ending knee injury while playing football.

Everyone else was female, none of whom volunteered. Without a family history of military service, the inclination isn't there.

I have a few friends who are or have been in the military, and seen combat. To them, and to the countless strangers who have done the same, I offer my thanks for them being willing to be in the hard places at the hard times.

813 words. 981 to goal.

It's my sad news to report that the local Waldenbooks, in the Oakdale Mall, is on the list of stores to be closed at the beginning of the new year. This is sad in more than one way--everyone hates to see a bookstore close--because this particular bookstore manager, April, has treated me and many other fellow authors with both respect and fan-glee. She has supported us by making certain that our books are on the shelf at the store AND, perhaps more importantly, talking the books up to her customers and making certain that they are in the hands of potential readers out there. I honestly can't believe the bookstore is closing.

However, before the news of the closing hit the airwaves, we'd arranged for a holiday signing at the store. It's now become a "last hurrah!" signing, and we're hoping to make it a huge send-off not only for April but for all of the employees at the store who've helped push our books in the past. So if you're in the Binghamton area--or even within a reasonable driving distance--come by on December 5th from Noon-4pm and help us let April and the other employees know how much we appreciate all of their efforts over the years. We'd like this signing to be a huge success! In addition to having our books there to sign for either you OR as gifts for all of your friends, we'll be wrapping the books you intend to use as gifts as well. FREE GIFT WRAPPING!! By authors who may (or may not) know anything about gift wrapping!! That, in and of itself, will be a blast. *grin* I'm sure we'll also have some candy and other freebies to give away.

We realize that not everyone is within even an unreasonable driving distance of Binghamton, NY. If you can't make it for whatever reason, you can still help us celebrate and thank April and the other bookstore employees by buying the books through the store and having them shipped to you (or someone else). April has graciously agreed to handle ordered copies in two different ways: you can either have the signed books shipped to a local Waldenbooks in your area so you can pick them up there, or April can ship them directly to you. For the second option, there will be no shipping cost (for shipments in the US), April will simply charge you for the books. For either of these options, send an email to fireun3@gmail.com with either the name of the town or city where the local Waldenbooks is located OR with where you'd like the books shipped. You should include what books you'd like by what author, how you want them signed, and (if they're shipping directly to you) if you want them wrapped.

Here are the details of the signing if you think you can make it. Keep in mind that Christmas is inching ever closer. Ask yourself who on your gift list might enjoy some great fantasy novels! Signed even!

The "Last Hurrah!" Signing

Waldenbooks @ The Oakdale Mall
Reynolds Rd., Binghamton, NY
December 5th, 2009
Noon-4pm
Gift-wrapping available!
Featuring:
Patricia Bray; S.C. Butler
Barbara Campbell; Laura Anne Gilman
Jackie Kessler; Joshua Palmatier
Anton Strout


And if you aren't certain what books are up for grabs, here's a list of all of our books in print and available through the store:

Patricia Bray: The Sword of Change series: Devlin's Luck, Devlin's Honor, Devlin's Justice; The Chronicles of Josan series: The First Betrayal, The Sea Change, The Final Sacrifice

S.C. Butler: The Stoneways Trilogy: Reiffen's Choice, Queen Ferris, The Magicians' Daughter

Barbara Campbell: The Trickster's Game series: Heartwood, Bloodstone, Foxfire

Laura Anne Gilman: The Retrievers series: Staying Dead, Curse the Dark, Bring It On, Burning Bridges, Free Fall, Blood From Stone; The Vineart War series: Flesh and Fire

Jackie Kessler: Hell on Earth series: Hell's Belles, The Road to Hell, Hotter Than Hell; Black and White (with Caitlin Kittredge)

Joshua Palmatier: The Throne of Amenkor Trilogy: The Skewed Throne, The Cracked Throne, The Vacant Throne

Anton Strout: The Simon Canderous series: Dead To Me, Deader Still

And there you go! A long list of great books to browse from. I hope to see you at the signing, but if you can't make it, definitely send April a message with what books you'd be interested in. Help support good booksellers! Us authors can't survive without them!

Apologia pro Poemate Meo

I, too, saw God through mud -- -
The mud that cracked on cheeks when wretches smiled.
War brought more glory to their eyes than blood,
And gave their laughs more glee than shakes a child.

Merry it was to laugh there -- -
Where death becomes absurd and life absurder.
For power was on us as we slashed bones bare
Not to feel sickness or remorse of murder.

I, too, have dropped off fear -- -
Behind the barrage, dead as my platoon,
And sailed my spirit surging, light and clear
Past the entanglement where hopes lay strewn;

And witnessed exultation -- -
Faces that used to curse me, scowl for scowl,
Shine and lift up with passion of oblation,
Seraphic for an hour; though they were foul.

I have made fellowships -- -
Untold of happy lovers in old song.
For love is not the binding of fair lips
With the soft silk of eyes that look and long,

By Joy, whose ribbon slips, -- -
But wound with war's hard wire whose stakes are strong;
Bound with the bandage of the arm that drips;
Knit in the welding of the rifle-thong.

I have perceived much beauty
In the hoarse oaths that kept our courage straight;
Heard music in the silentness of duty;
Found peace where shell-storms spouted reddest spate.

Nevertheless, except you share
With them in hell the sorrowful dark of hell,
Whose world is but the trembling of a flare,
And heaven but as the highway for a shell,

You shall not hear their mirth:
You shall not come to think them well content
By any jest of mine. These men are worth
Your tears: You are not worth their merriment.

Wilfred Owen, November 1917

Being reminded as I tap away this morning that some vast percentage of constructing a narrative is getting the transitions in the right places (even on a paragraph and sentence level) and the narrative energy and line of direction flowing. Getting the horses pulling in the right direction is only half of it. There have to be traces connecting them to the thing to be pulled.

Also, it's all about the goddamned verbs.

Jane Jewel and I are in the "mosh pit" at WFC.


A foggy morning. This was taken from my front porch.


The Columbia Canal Bridge: part of where I take my exercise walks.


saycestsay, msisolak, retrobable and I get together at WFC.


saycestsay, jaylake, calendula_witch, and Ken Sholes


A picture of a picture: Brian and I enjoy a retirement party for his co-worker.


Tigre.

Thank you, to everyone who is or has served in the armed forces. I wish you well, and I wish for a day when you can all go home and raise cabbages.

“I will come to a time in my backwards trip when November eleventh, accidentally my birthday, was a sacred day called Armistice Day. When I was a boy, all the people of all the nations which had fought in the First World War were silent during the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of Armistice Day, which was the eleventh day of the eleventh month.

“It was during that minute in nineteen hundred and eighteen, that millions upon millions of human beings stopped butchering one and another. I have talked to old men who were on battlefields during that minute. They have told me in one way or another that the sudden silence was the voice of God. So we still have among us some men who can remember when God spoke clearly to mankind.

“Armistice Day has become Veterans’ Day. Armistice Day was sacred. Veterans’ dDy is not.

“So I will throw Veterans’ Day over my shoulder. Armistice Day I will keep. I don’t want to throw away any sacred things.

“What else is sacred? Oh, Romeo and Juliet, for instance.

“And all music is.”

             --Breakfast of Champions, Kurt Vonnegut, 1973

Unbelievable. I honestly don't understand how anyone takes Fox News seriously.

Jon Stewart catches Fox News using old footage to make Tea Party look bigger.

I'm glad someone is calling these guys out.

http://www.scatoday.net/node/14458

Russians are known for their love of vodka, but in the Middle Ages, the Russians displayed great talent at creating other alcoholic beverages including mead. Later, in the early 16th century, monks developed the first recipe for vodka.

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Happy birthday, iosef!

So far today I have:

• taken the dog out and thrown his ball for him
• put away the massive tea shipment that arrived yesterday
• made tea
• drunk some of same
• slowly and mindfully eaten two thirds of a very good muffin (paying attention while eating good food: best meditation available!) (although I like to think other parts of me are enjoying the food even when the ego is checked out)
• washed a load of dishes
• kneaded two loaves of bread and put one in the freezer
• set the other one to rise

It's 7:35.

I am about to yoga, shower, dress, put my wrist braces on and write at least six pages.

I think I may need to sleep all afternoon, or the virtue around here just might rise to toxic levels. Or possibly that was all a catwax of epic proportions.

...but the cats are so shiny now. And if I hadn't made bread there would be nothing for supper!