Dandelyon's Worlds

I've been under the weather. This time I managed to get Bronchitis just from the end of the winter heating season (unless a friend with a congestive heart condition was actually sick, and not just coughing because of the heart condition). But I think this was coming on earlier, and the med regime my former allergist suggested was keeping my lungs and sinuses a lot clearer than in the past, but not enough for my body to clear out the infection.

Well, I came to this conclusion Friday, with (among other things) singing at the Eurofilk showing me I was unusually short of breath for singing; I already had an appointment with my newish primary doc who I really like on Monday, and when I tried to call the allergist last month to set up an appointment, there was no answer or answering machine on his number, or on the alternate number I found on Google. I did find an article about him listing him as 81 years old, and I'm not sure how long ago that was written, so I'm assuming he died or retired. So, I waited out the weekend and got tireder and tireder, and shorter and shorter of breath.

Happily, she was willing to prescribe antibiotics and steroids (if I'd gotten antibiotics on Friday, that might have been enough), unhappily, when they figured out that the only way they could give me the meds the doc thought most appropriate that didn't have corn in it (kids' liquid, again), it turned out that the pharmacy couldn't fill it until today. It was too late to try to talk the doc into prescribing something different, as the clinic was closed.

So today I woke up way too early, and was NOT falling asleep again (my body does insist on waking when I really need meds, which freaked out my RN mother when I was first sick enough to always be awake when she came in to wake me up to take them). This was handy in that I was able to deal with a bank overdraft for my grown-up kid (she's still using the account I got her when she went to Denmark in 4th grade so I could easily transfer money to her if there was an unexpected need, so, being awake I saw the text notification) (Her birthday is later this month, so an early birthday gift was perfectly reasonable).

And then I had food and called the pharmacy, because I WANTED those meds before the rest of the day's errands, which included getting My Angel to her PT appointment, mailing a thing (in a post office, since there seems to be no more drop-off boxes outside our regular post office any more--WTF, government?--and going to pick up meds at a different pharmacy too.

The strip mall the post office was in had one of the closing JoAnne Fabrics, which had almost no fabric left, and not much of anything else either. I did find some things to buy, including two substantially marked down big bags designed to hold a sewing machine and sewing stuff, but which I plan to use one of for author stuff (books, display, etc.) on the assumption that I'll do signings at cons again, and the other for acrylic paints, brushes, and the like since my current bag and plastic bin plan isn't working out as well as I'd like, and because having that stuff on wheels will be very convenient.

I also got some beads, wire, a thimble and multitool, sewing machine needles, an ironing pad to put on a table, some tape, a couple of pillow forms for planned gifting, and, surprisingly, a basket of tumbled stones to put in the fishtank. Sadly, the heavy-duty dolly they had pictured in the front as available had already been sold. I looked at the jewelry making stuff, thought about the heavy duty crimper and some of those beads, but I haven't been making jewelry lately and can use the hemostats I use for holding autoharp strings to crimp things, so I left those behind. I did also get some very discounted project boards, so if we decide to go to one or more protests, we can take signs.

And I took photos of our daffodils in the middle of all that.

I am cheered by all the photos of protests I'm seeing, and by how badly Elon's car company is doing. It gives me hope. Keep contacting your elected officials, we've got to wear them down until they stand up to our very cruel and foolish leader.

Now I am going to hit post and go watch Rachel show all those pictures of the signs again, and do Duolinguo, so I don't miss a day, and fall in bed. Maybe I'll manage to post Daffodil pics tomorrow.

Or some other period, or for a creative project.  I've even done readings for characters!  I'm hoping to spread a little hope and good energy in this scary time.

You can ask here or over on LJ:

on DW: My mirrored post

on LJ:  My Original Post

All friends, new (even as-yet unknown) and old, are welcome!

A couple of days ago it was Mother’s Day, and—as is usual on my Facebook these days, because I have friends who care deeply and passionately about our world and the people in it—there was a lot of politics on my wall. One of the things on my wall was a friend (admittedly not a Clinton fan) who expressed horror that Hillary was willing to accept support from Republicans. In her mind, that was proof that Hillary doesn’t share any values with liberals.

And I cringed. This was, after all, Mother’s Day, a day when we all—liberals, conservatives, the apolitical, and people whose politics are best described on some other axis—celebrate our marvelous mothers or console our friends who had the misfortune to be born to mothers who aren’t so marvelous. We all value family, just as we all value warmth when it’s cold. Like today—cold and rainy, prompting me to reach for something warm. I tried a sweater, and it was too scratchy. With all the political uproar, I wanted more comfort than that.

There’s this old silk jacket I have. I bought it at the thrift store years ago even though it was a bit threadbare because the colors—purples and blues and greens—are marvelous and it fits gently around me and it’s so soft and sensual. It feels good, like a warm hug made of rose petals. It was old when I bought it, and now the outer silk is pulling apart in strips and shreds. Periodically, I pick this jacket up and give in to the illogical urge (why not just replace it?) to take satin scraps or shapes cut from old silk shirts and patch the areas that are the most tattered.

I pick it up today and put it on long enough to warm up a little, and rip it some more trying to put my phone into a place that, as it turns out, is not the pocket after all. I look again at my Facebook and see more vitriol against that other mother who hopes to help the world from the big white house in DC, and I take the jacket off again. I cut a bit of purple from a ripped silk sleeve I’ve been using to clean my glasses and start stitching it to the coat, and I feel comforted.

Our social fabric is tattered right now, pulled apart by low income and bigotry and fear. But we can’t just throw it away and buy a new one. Someone has shared a quote showing that Trump thinks he can get the nation through hard times by not paying our debt. I sigh. I so very much don't want to see more things like that, so I switch over to Live Journal on the computer and read a poem where a policeman tries to help a person with superpowers who has PTSD. Then I listen to an interview of Hillary, so I can close that tab on the web browser. I enjoy listening to Hillary when she can actually talk about her hopes for what she can accomplish if she’s President, and it’s easier to sew when I’m listening instead of reading. I reflect that our world is kind of like the poor super-kid in the poem, broken and traumatized and scared.

The bit of purple silk stitched firmly to the sleeve, I go looking to see what I can find that’s suitable to put next to it. Our youngest cat, Nebula, is sleeping in a box of material, and is quite bemused when I pull the box out and dig through things around and under her. She blinks at me, strange human, and I rub her under her chin. I find a scrap of white brocade not much more than an inch wide, and some blue satin and green brocade, and part of a tie whose off-white lining could work. And a hairball. Ugh. I brush the old dried mess into the trash and consign that bit of cloth to the laundry, along with some clothes that will probably be donated.

Then back to my old jacket with safety pins and material. I cut and lay down several more pieces and pin them in place. Some of them will doubtless get moved around as I stitch, but it’s a plan. I thread the needle again and continue. The lovely smooth texture of the silks and brocades calms me. It feels as if each stitch is sending healing energy out into the world, a gentle prayer or bit of kind sympathetic magic to help us all in our quest to make the world a little healthier, a little less ragged, and a little more beautiful.

I use up the thread on my needle and tie it off. Next is a spot where the original fabric is just gone, the rough lining showing through. It reminds me of the places where lies and hatred have hurt me and people I care about, but I smile, because here on this jacket I can fix things. More green, I think, to cover this spot. Green would look good. We could use more green in our politics too, and fewer lies. More kindness and less fear. I pin and I stitch, and I send my good wishes out into the world, and in my head is a line from science fiction that has, contrary to all expectations, become popular culture: “Make it so.”

Reading about a woman being harassed repeatedly by the same guy at Readercon evoked many contradictory feelings in me.

First, of course, is outrage. I want my chosen family free of fault and especially this fault, the fault of making women afraid. I am also sad about another fault--that no one found a way to stop what was happening during the con.

I haven't read everything people have posted. I'm not clear how much the concom knew at the con, which was a critical time. But someone  knew what was happening, and I'm sad no one officially or unofficially got through to this guy that he was being a jerk and MUST stop. Why did no one take him aside and hit him upside the head with a clue-by-four?

You see, the clue-by-four is one of the things I love about fandom.

So many people find fandom after having grown up ostracized and consequently socially quite clueless. No, that's not the part I love--this is: I've seen person after person who showed up without the social knowledge and skills needed to avoid scaring or hurting others, and who--because someone(s) here didn't just give up on them and commit another ostracism upon them--I have seen the results of them listening when they're told, "You just can't behave that way!"  I've seen many grow into people I'm proud to know.

Sometimes they're told they screwed up by a member of the concom or con security, but more often a friend takes them aside to some private corner or a woman with a sword or a Klingon skullcap (or armed with nothing more than the knowledge that if she calls for help she will get it) confronts them directly and publicly. But more often than not they ARE confronted, not because it's someone's job to do so, but because we care about each other and about having a wonderful safe place for a few precious days where we each can live free to be ourselves--free to be openly geeks, to be openly queer or poly, or even "merely" to be openly playful and creative and unique.

Sadly, it doesn't always happen. Sometimes, collectively, we fail to see what is happening, we fail to step in and swing that clue when it's most needed. Worse, sometimes we fail to take action when even a very pointed and forceful clue is not enough.

It is good to be reminded we can do better.  It's good to be reminded that when we don't speak up, people--sometimes even the creative stars who bring us together--get hurt.

It is also good to see people complaining of harassing and bullying behavior, and saying very plainly "this is never acceptable". (In retrospect, I can identify episodes that upset me, but not understanding what was happening, I could not effectively respond at the time.)

But as valuable as it is to be aware of our shortcomings, it's also good to remember how many of us are better people because one or two or three unsung fans took time out from their convention to speak to us when we were in the process of screwing up--to say not "get out and don't come back" but "get a clue".

It's important to remember that fans don't always fall short, that we do repeatedly keep our women, our authors, our queerfolk, and our geeks safe, or at least safer than they are elsewhere--and we do so because individually and collectively we try to practice and teach something better. 

I wish we always succeeded, of course. I love fandom, and I want it to be perfect (no matter that I know that nothing humans do is perfect).  The best we can do is strive for perfection.  I just hope that as we move forward we can learn from our successes as well as from our failures.

The friend who wants two female cats has decided the time isn't right for her, leaving me with two cats who need homes, or a home together.  And the kitten is definitely old enough that if I can't find her a home I have to get her to a shelter so someone else might.  So if you know someone within a couple of hours' drive of Milwaukee who wants a sweet cat or two, or even who's going to Duckon and wants to go home with a cat (assuming my sister will host a cat or two at her house temporarily for a weekend) please have them contact me.

So far, I think the kittens have gone to great homes--the black, who was a bit skittish, went with a married couple who he was quite comfortable with.  The most adventuresome kitten--the one we called Intrepid--has three kids to play with, and the next most venturesome has two. 

So, so far, I think that great families have shown up for my kitties.  Here's hoping the universe will provide perfect homes for these two kitties too!

Before I have to take them to a shelter.

There's more pictures on my facebook.