lenora_rose: (Default)
It's funny what you can and can't do with an injury.

As regards my knee, I can:
- Walk, but slower than usual, and since it decided now is the time to snow and get a bit slippy, with some attention to where I put my feet. I can even do it without favouring the leg, but it's easier to let it go just a little.
- Play DDR. Yes, really. Only slightly worse than I expected, and some of that is for not having played in a while. Oddly, the only problem I noticed was that my calves kept wanting to seize. Note: I would NOT have done this had I not put on the knee brace first. It did make a difference in both capability and comfort with the idea of trying.
- Actually dance. Nothing hoppy, though; all careful flat steps, and some extra care on the hip moves, and on making sure to lift the foot to twist so the knee doesn't turn. Again, with the brace. But I managed slow or controlled twirling, twisting, light stepping patterns, hopping, some straight-leg kicks, and a number of usual dance floor moves. And leaving more of the tricky stuff to the right side helped. Over half the SCA dances are out due to stomps, twisty or less controlled turns, or hoppy moves.
- Go up stairs. With a bit of a swing outward as well as up, so as not to bend too far.

Things that are trickier:
- Getting into and out of bed. The fact that the bed is high is a plus, actually, it makes getting out easier. But the bend and twist to get under and out from the covers isn't so good.
- Lie on my right side. I probably could with a pillow under the knee.But I didn't bring a spare pillow to bed, and the extra production of getting up and down again, and managing the stairs, convinced me not to bother.
- Go down stairs. I CAN. Either marking time like a little kid, or with a kind of extra skip. I CAN do it the usual way, without any extras, but it feels like I'm pushing it.
- Sitting down is easy. Getting there, not always.
- Putting on any shoes that require me to bend over and pick up that foot to any height at the same time. I can just manage the slip-on that needs me to put a finger or shoe-horn in the back. I haven't even considered the runners or heeled shoes.

Things I feel like I really can't do:
- Stomp snow off my shoes. Stomp in general (DDR was about as hard as I could safely step).
- Run for anything short of emergency. I probably could, but the impact sounds a bad idea.
- Get even slightly careless about balance. I survived tripping pretty badly over something since I landed on my feet, but part of me is sure that if I hit it against anything else, it will just go.
- Sit cross-legged. Or anything at all that requires me to lift my leg sideways.


I've regained some of the range of motion. I sometimes notice a mild clicking - noise more than feeling, but a bit of both - when I'm up and moving for the first time after sitting a while, or sometimes while getting too ambitious up stairs, which I've been paying attention to.
lenora_rose: (Default)
It's funny what you can and can't do with an injury.

As regards my knee, I can:
- Walk, but slower than usual, and since it decided now is the time to snow and get a bit slippy, with some attention to where I put my feet. I can even do it without favouring the leg, but it's easier to let it go just a little.
- Play DDR. Yes, really. Only slightly worse than I expected, and some of that is for not having played in a while. Oddly, the only problem I noticed was that my calves kept wanting to seize. Note: I would NOT have done this had I not put on the knee brace first. It did make a difference in both capability and comfort with the idea of trying.
- Actually dance. Nothing hoppy, though; all careful flat steps, and some extra care on the hip moves, and on making sure to lift the foot to twist so the knee doesn't turn. Again, with the brace. But I managed slow or controlled twirling, twisting, light stepping patterns, hopping, some straight-leg kicks, and a number of usual dance floor moves. And leaving more of the tricky stuff to the right side helped. Over half the SCA dances are out due to stomps, twisty or less controlled turns, or hoppy moves.
- Go up stairs. With a bit of a swing outward as well as up, so as not to bend too far.

Things that are trickier:
- Getting into and out of bed. The fact that the bed is high is a plus, actually, it makes getting out easier. But the bend and twist to get under and out from the covers isn't so good.
- Lie on my right side. I probably could with a pillow under the knee.But I didn't bring a spare pillow to bed, and the extra production of getting up and down again, and managing the stairs, convinced me not to bother.
- Go down stairs. I CAN. Either marking time like a little kid, or with a kind of extra skip. I CAN do it the usual way, without any extras, but it feels like I'm pushing it.
- Sitting down is easy. Getting there, not always.
- Putting on any shoes that require me to bend over and pick up that foot to any height at the same time. I can just manage the slip-on that needs me to put a finger or shoe-horn in the back. I haven't even considered the runners or heeled shoes.

Things I feel like I really can't do:
- Stomp snow off my shoes. Stomp in general (DDR was about as hard as I could safely step).
- Run for anything short of emergency. I probably could, but the impact sounds a bad idea.
- Get even slightly careless about balance. I survived tripping pretty badly over something since I landed on my feet, but part of me is sure that if I hit it against anything else, it will just go.
- Sit cross-legged. Or anything at all that requires me to lift my leg sideways.


I've regained some of the range of motion. I sometimes notice a mild clicking - noise more than feeling, but a bit of both - when I'm up and moving for the first time after sitting a while, or sometimes while getting too ambitious up stairs, which I've been paying attention to.
lenora_rose: (Default)
I wasn't at my usual workplace today, but at the one where I need to catch buses to get home (for those who know the city, this workplace is Across the Street from Northwest Fabrics). I was later than I meant to be leaving, so I saw the bus pull up to the corner at a probably futile distance. I decided to run anyhow. And the bus started pulling away, so i sped up to near sprinting, and was watching bus not ground when I hit a patch of heavy gravel I *knew* was there. I hit the driveway beyond at full speed plus gravity. And landed primarily on my left hand, though my left knee took a fair bit of the brunt.

Anyhow, the driveway I fell on was that of a slightly seedy motel at the end of the street, and an old man who'd stepped out the bar's back door for a smoke held it open for me to go in and rinse off my hand in their washroom (all he saw was that it was bleeding). I noticed that the porch was half-full even in zero degrees, and not a person had done more than glance over. Thanks, assholes. You know, I DID hit my head, and while it proved beyond trivial, at least so far, it might not have been. And I was LIMPING. (Okay. So I do that a lot, in a much smaller subtle way. This wasn't subtle.)

Anyhow, I made it up the handful of stairs, spotted the bathrooms instantly, and ran the thing under cold water, with a feeble attempt to flush it with soap. Then clamped a paper towel and my hand over it and kept it that way, while I looked for the exit of the bar to get to the hotel courtesy phone. And, in the wake of a smattering of applause, noticed the stage with the two poles and the girl wearing a skirt that was mroe like a belt, and as far as I could tell with her back to me, nothing else.

Not so much just bar, I guess. Huh. Hadn't known that. It doesn't advertise like the ones a few blocks further down...

And maybe not so much slightly seedy.

So, a stop at Misericordia's Urgent Care later... (Arrive 10 to 6, depart about 10. Colin was allowed to buy and bring supper into the waiting room, and I got some reading done, and the two of us took the whole less-than-two-minutes to solve someone's half finished cryptogram puzzle. And learned definitively why we don't regret not having a tv, due to exposure to Law and Order SVU.)

The doctor was a nice petite lady not much past my own age. I think Filipino, but I didn't catch her name. The nurse was a grizzled middle-aged man with big heavy hands and mild callusses, sympathized because he'd recently managed to give himself a similar scrape going off his bike, and proved fairly deft and light of touch (considering that what he was doing to cut away the flaps of flesh and scour the thing cleaner was going to be horribly painful whoever did it).

The left hand was BAD; I tried to remove several layers off my palm. And I don't mean oops, scrape, I mean the nurse couldn't actually cut all the skin off in one spot because it went too deep - trying made me yelp, and flushing it with liquid was, shall we say, worse than the entire physical side of the damned miscarriage. (though not even a blip on the same scale for anxiety, grief, shame, and other emotional trauma). I wouldn't let him do it a third time, and I acknowledged the necessity, because I did pick up some gravel even that deep.

The left knee is scraped, but was protected by the fact that for once I was wearing pants (...instead of **skirts**, for those with dirty minds), and while I've lost some range of motion from the swelling, nothing's broken or twisted. Advil is the order of the doctor.

The other hand has some barely surface damage, not even enough for the hospital to need to clean out.

And technically, my head touched ground, as I said, but I showed not even one sign of head trauma as far as me, Colin, admitting staff, doctor, or nurse noticed. (Or for that matter, any scrapes, though the arm of my glasses got one). And I'm pretty sure at least three of those above were consciously watching for it (Me included).

I suppose it's better palm than fingers (If I typed properly in the first place, I might be suffering, but for my two fingers per hand (and right thumb) method, I'm fine. And it is my off hand. OTOH, no mandolin and no archery. (I could probably try for mandolin after I get the dressing changed; I don't think the pressure would be direct. But I do expect my practices to be brief.)

And no rollerskating for Abacchus' birthday party tomorrow.

We'll see about yoga Monday. I think I'll be fine for tai chi, but I'm not planning on trying tonight.

(And immensely grateful that my MP3 player now has a padded case. It was also on my right side, and wasn't really fallen on with any serious weight. And there's a reason these are the Earphones that Will Not Die, the ones I go back to whenever a more expensive pair goes kaput. They were swinging loose in my right hand, because there was no way they'd stay in while I was running.)
lenora_rose: (Default)
I wasn't at my usual workplace today, but at the one where I need to catch buses to get home (for those who know the city, this workplace is Across the Street from Northwest Fabrics). I was later than I meant to be leaving, so I saw the bus pull up to the corner at a probably futile distance. I decided to run anyhow. And the bus started pulling away, so i sped up to near sprinting, and was watching bus not ground when I hit a patch of heavy gravel I *knew* was there. I hit the driveway beyond at full speed plus gravity. And landed primarily on my left hand, though my left knee took a fair bit of the brunt.

Anyhow, the driveway I fell on was that of a slightly seedy motel at the end of the street, and an old man who'd stepped out the bar's back door for a smoke held it open for me to go in and rinse off my hand in their washroom (all he saw was that it was bleeding). I noticed that the porch was half-full even in zero degrees, and not a person had done more than glance over. Thanks, assholes. You know, I DID hit my head, and while it proved beyond trivial, at least so far, it might not have been. And I was LIMPING. (Okay. So I do that a lot, in a much smaller subtle way. This wasn't subtle.)

Anyhow, I made it up the handful of stairs, spotted the bathrooms instantly, and ran the thing under cold water, with a feeble attempt to flush it with soap. Then clamped a paper towel and my hand over it and kept it that way, while I looked for the exit of the bar to get to the hotel courtesy phone. And, in the wake of a smattering of applause, noticed the stage with the two poles and the girl wearing a skirt that was mroe like a belt, and as far as I could tell with her back to me, nothing else.

Not so much just bar, I guess. Huh. Hadn't known that. It doesn't advertise like the ones a few blocks further down...

And maybe not so much slightly seedy.

So, a stop at Misericordia's Urgent Care later... (Arrive 10 to 6, depart about 10. Colin was allowed to buy and bring supper into the waiting room, and I got some reading done, and the two of us took the whole less-than-two-minutes to solve someone's half finished cryptogram puzzle. And learned definitively why we don't regret not having a tv, due to exposure to Law and Order SVU.)

The doctor was a nice petite lady not much past my own age. I think Filipino, but I didn't catch her name. The nurse was a grizzled middle-aged man with big heavy hands and mild callusses, sympathized because he'd recently managed to give himself a similar scrape going off his bike, and proved fairly deft and light of touch (considering that what he was doing to cut away the flaps of flesh and scour the thing cleaner was going to be horribly painful whoever did it).

The left hand was BAD; I tried to remove several layers off my palm. And I don't mean oops, scrape, I mean the nurse couldn't actually cut all the skin off in one spot because it went too deep - trying made me yelp, and flushing it with liquid was, shall we say, worse than the entire physical side of the damned miscarriage. (though not even a blip on the same scale for anxiety, grief, shame, and other emotional trauma). I wouldn't let him do it a third time, and I acknowledged the necessity, because I did pick up some gravel even that deep.

The left knee is scraped, but was protected by the fact that for once I was wearing pants (...instead of **skirts**, for those with dirty minds), and while I've lost some range of motion from the swelling, nothing's broken or twisted. Advil is the order of the doctor.

The other hand has some barely surface damage, not even enough for the hospital to need to clean out.

And technically, my head touched ground, as I said, but I showed not even one sign of head trauma as far as me, Colin, admitting staff, doctor, or nurse noticed. (Or for that matter, any scrapes, though the arm of my glasses got one). And I'm pretty sure at least three of those above were consciously watching for it (Me included).

I suppose it's better palm than fingers (If I typed properly in the first place, I might be suffering, but for my two fingers per hand (and right thumb) method, I'm fine. And it is my off hand. OTOH, no mandolin and no archery. (I could probably try for mandolin after I get the dressing changed; I don't think the pressure would be direct. But I do expect my practices to be brief.)

And no rollerskating for Abacchus' birthday party tomorrow.

We'll see about yoga Monday. I think I'll be fine for tai chi, but I'm not planning on trying tonight.

(And immensely grateful that my MP3 player now has a padded case. It was also on my right side, and wasn't really fallen on with any serious weight. And there's a reason these are the Earphones that Will Not Die, the ones I go back to whenever a more expensive pair goes kaput. They were swinging loose in my right hand, because there was no way they'd stay in while I was running.)
lenora_rose: (Default)
I should be done Bird of Dusk about now.

Predictably enough, for anyone who knows my usual relationship with deadlines, especially self-imposed, I'm not. (I'm usually close, but rarely on target, and I seem to work best with a final-days crunch. If I ever become a professional, I think the smart thing to do would be to tell the agent to tell me a deadline two weeks before the one the editor has. And then forget I suggested any such thing.)

In this case, I can't really say it's for lack of trying. I have about one scene to go; I've got most of the climactic stuff. But somewhere in the falloutdenouement, things all tumbled apart. And minor as the denouement sounds, you really do have to nail the landing. (Whether the thing that preceded the landing is an aerial gymnastics routine or a fall from a plane without parachute... depends on the project.)

I think I know somewhat of what broke, and therefore somewhat of how to fix, but it's a wee bit like Mal holding the broken part to Serenity's engine. It really doesn't look like it will ever be made to fit without a completely new part / fresh bunch of words. So it's going to be another week or more unless I have a magical amazing brainwave (And the fun thing about writing is, sometimes you *do* have a magical amazing brainwave. Not often enough to count on, though).

Failed to go to archery yesterday to to serious shoulder aches (Just the muscle kind, thank dog. The ongoing shoulder problems I was having before are mostly gone, thanks to some physiotherapy.) Skipping out on choir tonight due to a combination of neckache and the realization that I'm missing church on Sunday anyhow, and right now, I'd *really* rather obsess over music via mandolin practice.

ETA at One AM: So of course, tonight (except for the stint on the Wii Fit) was all going back and doing little revisions and rereads of all the climax-stuff, to make sure I know where the threads are going. So no forward motion yet. Maybe necessary groundwork, maybe just procrastinating. I'm never sure which until i see if it does provide me with momentum.

But I haven't practiced mandolin yet and I'd like to get to bed by 2:30 AM. So...)
lenora_rose: (Default)
I should be done Bird of Dusk about now.

Predictably enough, for anyone who knows my usual relationship with deadlines, especially self-imposed, I'm not. (I'm usually close, but rarely on target, and I seem to work best with a final-days crunch. If I ever become a professional, I think the smart thing to do would be to tell the agent to tell me a deadline two weeks before the one the editor has. And then forget I suggested any such thing.)

In this case, I can't really say it's for lack of trying. I have about one scene to go; I've got most of the climactic stuff. But somewhere in the falloutdenouement, things all tumbled apart. And minor as the denouement sounds, you really do have to nail the landing. (Whether the thing that preceded the landing is an aerial gymnastics routine or a fall from a plane without parachute... depends on the project.)

I think I know somewhat of what broke, and therefore somewhat of how to fix, but it's a wee bit like Mal holding the broken part to Serenity's engine. It really doesn't look like it will ever be made to fit without a completely new part / fresh bunch of words. So it's going to be another week or more unless I have a magical amazing brainwave (And the fun thing about writing is, sometimes you *do* have a magical amazing brainwave. Not often enough to count on, though).

Failed to go to archery yesterday to to serious shoulder aches (Just the muscle kind, thank dog. The ongoing shoulder problems I was having before are mostly gone, thanks to some physiotherapy.) Skipping out on choir tonight due to a combination of neckache and the realization that I'm missing church on Sunday anyhow, and right now, I'd *really* rather obsess over music via mandolin practice.

ETA at One AM: So of course, tonight (except for the stint on the Wii Fit) was all going back and doing little revisions and rereads of all the climax-stuff, to make sure I know where the threads are going. So no forward motion yet. Maybe necessary groundwork, maybe just procrastinating. I'm never sure which until i see if it does provide me with momentum.

But I haven't practiced mandolin yet and I'd like to get to bed by 2:30 AM. So...)

Scattershot

Oct. 5th, 2009 03:34 pm
lenora_rose: (Gryphon)
It seems we are not getting our floors done this fall. My mother-in-law broke her foot a bit over a month ago, and is wheelchair-bound, though otherwise in good spirits. My father-in-law was originally going to be coming over alone, since the flooring was going to be his big job, not hers. But her foot isn't healing - she's going in to have her foot bolted together this week, as the bones were separating. So he's staying with her, at least until he heads to the Ukraine in November. (That last sentence... is not atypical. Colin tells a story of noticing one day that he hasn't seen his dad in a while, and asking his mom where he was. IIRC, the answer was "China.")

Hoping she gets well. She seems too irrepressible not to, but sometimes, the body stops being able to keep up with the mind... and my in-laws are about halfway in age between my grandmothers and my parents.
_______________________

On a lighter note, we went to the fundraising dinner for our church, and we are so going to end up fat.

They had two money-raising efforts happening. One was a "bag auction", aka a silent auction, or actually a raffle draw. The other was an actual auction of goods and services. I put most of my tickets in the prize with the McNally Robinson gift certificate, but a few in a few other prizes, as you do.

But the actual auction happened first, or we might have done things a little differently... Colin bid very strongly, and won, the auction for one home-made pie a month delivered to our home (The first went home with us, the rest we get to pick the kind). because Colin loves pie. (I haven't tried it yet. But it looked good.)

He also bid on the 12 dozen home-made perogies (And 12 knitted dischcloths and 12 "potscrubbers", knitted things of a fabric rough enough to use instead of steel wool). And won those.

And then I won the other 8 dozen perogies from the bag auction. And another 12 potscrubbers (Someone else at our table bought the second dozen off me for $9.50. I'd have given them free, but he insisted.)

They take up less room in the freezer than we feared, and they last well. But at an average of 4-6 per person per meal, that's at least 20 meals, and possibly as much as 30, if we *don't* invite friends.

We are SO going to be stuffed.

And Colin won an espresso maker.
________________________

I don't like it when I feel the urge to shout, "Hey, you, get out of my religion" at conservative fundamentalists. I don't like it because that would be their approach to me, and I want to be better than that.

But, really (via [livejournal.com profile] karnythia, whose tag for these sorts of things is "if I have to suffer, so do you"):

Conservative Bible Project

Shorter: "We don't like what the Bible actually says, so we're going to change it to suit us."

I'm pretty sure that the correct reaction if the holy book of your religion and your personal beliefs differ, is to find another religion (or to compromise, by following what you can, and sometimes doing things you don't prefer, and picking your battles). I'm pretty sure if the tenets of your faith and your own behaviour disagree, the thing to reexamine is your own behaviour.

I'm not exactly unfamiliar with the complexity of actual Biblical translation, but I'm also pretty sure this:

"Express Free Market Parables; explaining the numerous economic parables with their full free-market meaning"

is a bit beyond the ways the meaning of words, passages or culture has shifted over time, so that words don't mean what we think they mean.

I'm also pretty sure that this method:

"In the United States and much of the world, the immensely popular and respected King James Version (KJV) is freely available and in the public domain. It could be used as the baseline for developing a conservative translation without requiring a license or any fees. Where the KJV is known to be deficient due to discovery of more authentic sources, exceptions can be made that use either more modern public domain translations as a baseline, or by using the original Greek or Hebrew. "

isn't how most scholars go about crafting a real translation. "or by using the original Greek or Hebrew" seems almost an afterthought.


Also, how on earth do you claim "Volunteer" is a Conservative word?

__________________________

Finished the Fionavar Tapestry again. The books are justifiably a fantasy classic. The first one starts weak, and a bit unconvincing: Five people from our world have been invited to another magical world to help with anniversary celebrations. Before they even leave our world, one evil creature has attempted to follow and kill them, and the instant they arrive, they discover that the political situation isn't nearly as clean and welcoming as it sounded, and the danger is much much worse, yet only one balks, and even the one who we're told is frightened gets over her fear within sentences or moments. Big issues are brought up in front of them, yet it's seen as a sign of abnormal wisdom to catch on to the dark side of this, and they all stand passively listening for at least one major issue.

However, it doesn't take too long to convince the reader that they Have now thrown in their lot with the people they meet, genuinely, and not much longer to sketch the characters of the world in high terms and still give them eventual dimension. My favourite example of this is Tegid: Huge, fat, boistrous, rowdy, heavy drinking, a classic example of the bar-thumping jolly guardsman. Except. When he sees someone hurt, he protects them. He appreciates beauty. He's competent at fighting. He plays a killer game of chess. He may scratch his hind in the middle of formal negotiations, but he takes the part of his duties that matter seriously. And he's a thoroughly minor character.

The writing is glorious, I love the people, the choices, the powers and the poetry. I still cry at certain tragedies along the way, at certain acts of courage and defiance. it's an amazing piece of storytelling, and again, a rightful classic.

I also find the Arthur-Lancelot-Guinevere love triangle even less convincing than ever. Because it really seems to me that the saddest of all the sad stories shouldn't be one where one of the three characters can't say, "You know what? I'm not actually married to you this time, and there's no law against it here and now to make it a betrayal. Why can't I have two boyfriends?"

(And before you argue that that's too much modern thinking, consider that even Paint Your Wagon bloody did it.)

Even granting that Fionavar is a world of high romance and highly tradition-bound, *several* of the characters have casual sex or premarital sex (Outside of the religious festival, which I would grant as a whole nother ball game). It's Not a world where the social rules make that choice impossible. Kay seems to be trying too hard to have it both ways; to have a place where the prince's men can carouse with barmaids, where the women of the plains culture can visit any man they want before they're married, where people from our world won't feel too alien, and still have the high tragedy of "Oh, noes, I love two people!"

It's actually a relatively minor thread in the multiple plots, but it's one that failed to sing for me, and caused a nagging distraction.

Another oddity, this is the first time I really noticed how *small* Fionavar is. It seems like the whole of the place from top to bottom would take a week to cross on horseback, tops. (And it does have the "horses" of DWJ fame, that don't resemble real animals, don't founder after two days of gallopping, and don't balk at fighting things that even warhorses might say, "Bugger this!" to. And probably pollinate.) It's internally consistent, except that I found myself wondering how a plain that small could support herds of animals big enough that the plains people taking seventeen of them for a feast doesn't noticeably shrink the herd.

I'm also slightly inclined to take the sheer smallness of the world as explanation why it seems like almost everyone is blond, and even the dark-haired Cathalian people sound more like Mediterrainean Caucasians in looks, not people from further away.

If Kay weren't so firmly declaring Fionavar to be the world from which all other worlds spring, too, I'd just nod at the strong Celtic roots of it all and let the latter be, too. But because he does, I have to say it doesn't seem nearly large enough, geographically or culturally.

(Seriously, if I were making films of this series, I'd be as true to the books as I could in very way but casting.)

___________________

OH, and something [livejournal.com profile] matociquala chose to unveil (With help and suggestions for friends) for all those who've talked about it in the past but seemed unclear on what it really included:

The Homosexual Agenda

Scattershot

Oct. 5th, 2009 03:34 pm
lenora_rose: (Gryphon)
It seems we are not getting our floors done this fall. My mother-in-law broke her foot a bit over a month ago, and is wheelchair-bound, though otherwise in good spirits. My father-in-law was originally going to be coming over alone, since the flooring was going to be his big job, not hers. But her foot isn't healing - she's going in to have her foot bolted together this week, as the bones were separating. So he's staying with her, at least until he heads to the Ukraine in November. (That last sentence... is not atypical. Colin tells a story of noticing one day that he hasn't seen his dad in a while, and asking his mom where he was. IIRC, the answer was "China.")

Hoping she gets well. She seems too irrepressible not to, but sometimes, the body stops being able to keep up with the mind... and my in-laws are about halfway in age between my grandmothers and my parents.
_______________________

On a lighter note, we went to the fundraising dinner for our church, and we are so going to end up fat.

They had two money-raising efforts happening. One was a "bag auction", aka a silent auction, or actually a raffle draw. The other was an actual auction of goods and services. I put most of my tickets in the prize with the McNally Robinson gift certificate, but a few in a few other prizes, as you do.

But the actual auction happened first, or we might have done things a little differently... Colin bid very strongly, and won, the auction for one home-made pie a month delivered to our home (The first went home with us, the rest we get to pick the kind). because Colin loves pie. (I haven't tried it yet. But it looked good.)

He also bid on the 12 dozen home-made perogies (And 12 knitted dischcloths and 12 "potscrubbers", knitted things of a fabric rough enough to use instead of steel wool). And won those.

And then I won the other 8 dozen perogies from the bag auction. And another 12 potscrubbers (Someone else at our table bought the second dozen off me for $9.50. I'd have given them free, but he insisted.)

They take up less room in the freezer than we feared, and they last well. But at an average of 4-6 per person per meal, that's at least 20 meals, and possibly as much as 30, if we *don't* invite friends.

We are SO going to be stuffed.

And Colin won an espresso maker.
________________________

I don't like it when I feel the urge to shout, "Hey, you, get out of my religion" at conservative fundamentalists. I don't like it because that would be their approach to me, and I want to be better than that.

But, really (via [livejournal.com profile] karnythia, whose tag for these sorts of things is "if I have to suffer, so do you"):

Conservative Bible Project

Shorter: "We don't like what the Bible actually says, so we're going to change it to suit us."

I'm pretty sure that the correct reaction if the holy book of your religion and your personal beliefs differ, is to find another religion (or to compromise, by following what you can, and sometimes doing things you don't prefer, and picking your battles). I'm pretty sure if the tenets of your faith and your own behaviour disagree, the thing to reexamine is your own behaviour.

I'm not exactly unfamiliar with the complexity of actual Biblical translation, but I'm also pretty sure this:

"Express Free Market Parables; explaining the numerous economic parables with their full free-market meaning"

is a bit beyond the ways the meaning of words, passages or culture has shifted over time, so that words don't mean what we think they mean.

I'm also pretty sure that this method:

"In the United States and much of the world, the immensely popular and respected King James Version (KJV) is freely available and in the public domain. It could be used as the baseline for developing a conservative translation without requiring a license or any fees. Where the KJV is known to be deficient due to discovery of more authentic sources, exceptions can be made that use either more modern public domain translations as a baseline, or by using the original Greek or Hebrew. "

isn't how most scholars go about crafting a real translation. "or by using the original Greek or Hebrew" seems almost an afterthought.


Also, how on earth do you claim "Volunteer" is a Conservative word?

__________________________

Finished the Fionavar Tapestry again. The books are justifiably a fantasy classic. The first one starts weak, and a bit unconvincing: Five people from our world have been invited to another magical world to help with anniversary celebrations. Before they even leave our world, one evil creature has attempted to follow and kill them, and the instant they arrive, they discover that the political situation isn't nearly as clean and welcoming as it sounded, and the danger is much much worse, yet only one balks, and even the one who we're told is frightened gets over her fear within sentences or moments. Big issues are brought up in front of them, yet it's seen as a sign of abnormal wisdom to catch on to the dark side of this, and they all stand passively listening for at least one major issue.

However, it doesn't take too long to convince the reader that they Have now thrown in their lot with the people they meet, genuinely, and not much longer to sketch the characters of the world in high terms and still give them eventual dimension. My favourite example of this is Tegid: Huge, fat, boistrous, rowdy, heavy drinking, a classic example of the bar-thumping jolly guardsman. Except. When he sees someone hurt, he protects them. He appreciates beauty. He's competent at fighting. He plays a killer game of chess. He may scratch his hind in the middle of formal negotiations, but he takes the part of his duties that matter seriously. And he's a thoroughly minor character.

The writing is glorious, I love the people, the choices, the powers and the poetry. I still cry at certain tragedies along the way, at certain acts of courage and defiance. it's an amazing piece of storytelling, and again, a rightful classic.

I also find the Arthur-Lancelot-Guinevere love triangle even less convincing than ever. Because it really seems to me that the saddest of all the sad stories shouldn't be one where one of the three characters can't say, "You know what? I'm not actually married to you this time, and there's no law against it here and now to make it a betrayal. Why can't I have two boyfriends?"

(And before you argue that that's too much modern thinking, consider that even Paint Your Wagon bloody did it.)

Even granting that Fionavar is a world of high romance and highly tradition-bound, *several* of the characters have casual sex or premarital sex (Outside of the religious festival, which I would grant as a whole nother ball game). It's Not a world where the social rules make that choice impossible. Kay seems to be trying too hard to have it both ways; to have a place where the prince's men can carouse with barmaids, where the women of the plains culture can visit any man they want before they're married, where people from our world won't feel too alien, and still have the high tragedy of "Oh, noes, I love two people!"

It's actually a relatively minor thread in the multiple plots, but it's one that failed to sing for me, and caused a nagging distraction.

Another oddity, this is the first time I really noticed how *small* Fionavar is. It seems like the whole of the place from top to bottom would take a week to cross on horseback, tops. (And it does have the "horses" of DWJ fame, that don't resemble real animals, don't founder after two days of gallopping, and don't balk at fighting things that even warhorses might say, "Bugger this!" to. And probably pollinate.) It's internally consistent, except that I found myself wondering how a plain that small could support herds of animals big enough that the plains people taking seventeen of them for a feast doesn't noticeably shrink the herd.

I'm also slightly inclined to take the sheer smallness of the world as explanation why it seems like almost everyone is blond, and even the dark-haired Cathalian people sound more like Mediterrainean Caucasians in looks, not people from further away.

If Kay weren't so firmly declaring Fionavar to be the world from which all other worlds spring, too, I'd just nod at the strong Celtic roots of it all and let the latter be, too. But because he does, I have to say it doesn't seem nearly large enough, geographically or culturally.

(Seriously, if I were making films of this series, I'd be as true to the books as I could in very way but casting.)

___________________

OH, and something [livejournal.com profile] matociquala chose to unveil (With help and suggestions for friends) for all those who've talked about it in the past but seemed unclear on what it really included:

The Homosexual Agenda
lenora_rose: (Default)
I'd like to know what the hell is up with my knee, please. I can walk on it fine (Though I start with a bit of a limp, it's almost more for fear of pain or tightness than for actual pain or tightness). I could run, or at least manage a mild jog, when I tried, though I don't run far at the best of times. But it tries to lock up (not in the usual sense, but the best way to describe it) when I'm standing still, if I'm not careful. Which made archery fun today. And I can't life that leg to rest on my other knee, or bend over it while sitting - which meant Colin ahd to put my sock on for me, a thing we both for some reason found hysterical at the time, but, really, I'd like not to have the pain, thanks. Especially as I cannot remotely remember anything I've done that might lead to this (It was on yesterday, too, just not as bad, and ditto for Saturday.)

Massage appointment in two days, by sheer luck. It feels like being prodded that way will help, and my neck is looser than it was, so I'll ask Tim to try.

And I got back from archery to find me not a rejection for one of the stories, but a rewrite request. And one that probably has a point. The story in question is decidedly stunt-writing, and in fear of the weird delivery getting in the way of comprehension, I did repeat myself. But I'll have to think about it a bit before I go back and think what to remove.

Also, I really need to drill through the next few scenes in Bird, because these are going to be murder to write. This is the dark dark pit of a dark story, the stuff that makes me want to apologize to the character over and over just for writing it. And they won't get out of my head until I do.

(Put it this way. Colin and I wanted a nice evening together before archery. So I didn't work on writing this afternoon.)
lenora_rose: (Default)
I'd like to know what the hell is up with my knee, please. I can walk on it fine (Though I start with a bit of a limp, it's almost more for fear of pain or tightness than for actual pain or tightness). I could run, or at least manage a mild jog, when I tried, though I don't run far at the best of times. But it tries to lock up (not in the usual sense, but the best way to describe it) when I'm standing still, if I'm not careful. Which made archery fun today. And I can't life that leg to rest on my other knee, or bend over it while sitting - which meant Colin ahd to put my sock on for me, a thing we both for some reason found hysterical at the time, but, really, I'd like not to have the pain, thanks. Especially as I cannot remotely remember anything I've done that might lead to this (It was on yesterday, too, just not as bad, and ditto for Saturday.)

Massage appointment in two days, by sheer luck. It feels like being prodded that way will help, and my neck is looser than it was, so I'll ask Tim to try.

And I got back from archery to find me not a rejection for one of the stories, but a rewrite request. And one that probably has a point. The story in question is decidedly stunt-writing, and in fear of the weird delivery getting in the way of comprehension, I did repeat myself. But I'll have to think about it a bit before I go back and think what to remove.

Also, I really need to drill through the next few scenes in Bird, because these are going to be murder to write. This is the dark dark pit of a dark story, the stuff that makes me want to apologize to the character over and over just for writing it. And they won't get out of my head until I do.

(Put it this way. Colin and I wanted a nice evening together before archery. So I didn't work on writing this afternoon.)

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