Aether Excursions

Christmas post

2009-12-21T14:15:57Z

I missed posting through the whole month of November, which was a crazy month. Today I'm posting not my words, but the words of Scott Carter in his sermon yesterday, started in media res:

This is what Christmas is all about. A dirty, nasty human situation, and the fiery magnificent overwhelming indescribable presence of God thrust together.

That's Christmas.

God sees this mess, this spinning mess out in front of him and goes, "Stop." Where His finger comes down is that Baby. Crying, icky baby Baby, but God. In the middle of a man and woman who don't know what they're going to do with their life, in the middle of a dirty manger. God.

That's Christmas.

In the midst of all our filth and ick and yuckiness, our lack of control, our overwhelming burdens, our "I don't know what I"m going to do with my life, I don't know how I'm going to handle this, I don't know what's going to happen to me, I don't know what's going to happen to my family, everything is broken, everything is dirty, I don't understand it, I can't do anything about it," God says "Stop."

That's Christmas.

God in the middle of us. It is a human story, but it is a human story told by God.

This is Christmas.

Immanuel.

God with us.

Halloween at the Grand Floridian

2009-11-01T00:09:54Z

Here I sit, on Halloween, in a gorgeous hotel room at Walt Disney World. Luxury to me is the little touches, and this place has 'em. I'm listening to my iPod Touch, which is docked in the iHome alarm clock. (Incidentally, my iPod on shuffle is bizarre--Rasputina's If Your Kisses Can't Hold the Man You Love followed by Handel's And With His Stripes We Are Healed.) I'm eating a delicious giant sugar cookies from Gasparilla's Grill, where I had dinner: grilled salmon and smashed potatoes and asparagus on a paper plate. (Dinner reservations at the Grand Floridian Cafe, where I had lunch, would've been at 8:45 pm)

Had the easiest/best flight ever. Nonstop is the way to go, and rare, it seems. Southwest is excellent. The stewards and stewardesses are generally quite amusing. Case in point: while giving the oxygen mask spiel, the steward said, "If you're seated with a child, put the mask on yourself first and then on the child. If you're with more than one child, put it on the one who shows the most promise." I about fell out of my seat laughing. I don't think the guy beside me was paying attention. The flight wasn't full either, which made it wonderful. When I say "guy beside me," I mean there was a seat between us. Ah, luxury again.

I suppose I "should" have looked into getting tickets to some Disney thing, but I am so happy right now, just relaxing and not following any "shoulds" that pop into my head. I took a nap this afternoon. I wore my sling for traveling, and it was hot and really tired me out. Really glad I wore it, though.

Last night brought it home to me that my shoulder is still not healed. Thomas and I went to Spooks in the Stacks, the second annual celebration of the University of Montevallo's ghosts, sponsored by the Carmichael Library. The weather was perfect--drizzly and windy. Three stations were set up at King House, King Cemetery and Main Hall where people in costume told stories of the ghosts there. In the basement of the library, Birmingham Paranormal Society did a presentation. I was disappointed by that; we had to wait about 45 minutes, when the presentations were supposed to be 15-20minutes long. I think the group before us got wild with questions. Ours was barely 10 minutes. They are recruiting, however. Would love to join them. But we heard about Condi Cunningham, the ghost who haunts Main, a young woman who ran screaming after she set herself on fire while making fudge on an illegal chafing dish in her room. We also saw "THE door," the famed one on which her face keeps appearing. It doesn't look very old to me. At the Cemetery, students made up as zombies leaped from trees and behind walls. A man in civilian Civil War attire told about the massacre in Reynolds Hall, a hospital during the Civil War days. Quite tame, but fun and diverting.

Tomorrow I get together with my brother and his lovely wife! Hope we can get reservations...

Ektron Synergy events start tomorrow night.

A Scary Story for Halloween

2009-10-16T13:35:10Z

Amid all the crazy of the past months attendant on the launch of the new home page and the CMS issues, on August 21 I fell in the highly polished marble lobby of my building on the way in to work at the insanely early hour of 6:15 a.m. Flat on my face, with my right arm stretched straight out. Now, according to the rules, the first 10 feet of falling incurs 1d6 nonlethal damage, which is what I guess I took. Yikes. My shoulder popped out of its socket, much like happened about 12 years ago with my other shoulder. Serious pain, but my only thought as I sat there on the floor was, I have GOT to get up and get to work. Later, my therapist said I should've called 911 and gotten an ambulance. Farthest thing from my mind.

It hurt. A lot. I reported it as a worker's comp claim, but I waited a week to actually go to the doctor. Too much going on! When I finally did go, no doctors were available for some bizarre reason and I had to come back the next day, although I did get an X-ray. The next day, the Occupational Health Center doctor put me in a sling, wrote on the form I could resume my duties with no restrictions, here's a prescription for naproxin sodium and a muscle relaxer, get thee back to work.

So it popped out of socket three more times. After several weeks, I went back to the doctor, who scheduled me for an MRI. Had it done at ImageSouth Shelby, a facility I highly recommend, btw. Then I got a phone call at work. "You don't have a rotator cuff injury," the voice tells me. "Good," say I. "You have a fractured shoulder. You have an appointment to see Dr. Jeff Davis at St. Vincent's at this time and day."

Wow, I was freaked out. Fractured shoulder? I'd been walking around with a fractured bone for about a month and a half.

So I asked Thomas to go with me and we went to the crazy-huge complex that is St. Vincent's, to the Andrews Sports Medicine and Orthopedic Center, where I got another X-ray. When I saw the doctor and was relating once again the story of what happened, I got to the part about having an MRI the previous Thursday (this was on Tuesday). He looked at me funny. "An MRI?" He shuffles through my chart. "You have the films?" "No," I answered, with a rising sense of frustration. "They just called me on the phone and told me I had a fractured shoulder and to come see you." "I don't have your films. I can't diagnose you if I don't have your films."

He arranged to get my films sent to him. His assistant told me to be sure to call if I hadn't heard from them in 5 days, since I would no longer be in their appointment system.

Yeah, I called in 5 days, and was assured he'd get back to me. Ten days later (2 weeks, as the crow flies) I emailed the campus worker's comp coordinator and was told that they were working on scheduling a CT scan for me. Yesterday, October 15, I had the scan and Tuesday I will have my appointment with Dr. Davis, to decide if I need surgery or therapy on my fractured shoulder.

Today is 8 weeks since the accident.

I'm sorta frustrated by the whole experience. If it hadn't been worker's comp, I'm sure I'd have been taken care of 7 weeks ago.

No Post Zone

2009-09-14T12:16:54Z

Yikes! I didn't post at all during the month of August. Probably because the month of August was a month of Insanely Busy! I fought the CMS and the CMS nearly won, but we held a Come to Jesus meeting and the CMS Powers That Be sent an Ektron Savior who helped us in our time of need and now we are Good to Go.* We launched a new home page to great acclaim after an incredible number of hours spent working on it. I fell in the lobby of my building and popped my shoulder out the Friday before we were supposed to go live on Monday. We played Fruit Basket Turnover with offices--my team and I all reside within polite calling distance of each other on the 4th floor, which is a truly wonderful thing. And we have a meeting space. My bestest bud had liver surgery (!), but it was not the Big Scary we feared and he is recovering at a mutant healing rate.

I'm still playing catch up, so this is brief. The best news is--we resumed gaming this past weekend! A new campaign with two new players. I'm running "The Winds of Change" homebrew, yoinking from Pathfinder Adventure Path volumes and using the new Pathfinder RPG rules and setting. How long has it been since we've actually played with 4 players?? Should be fun.

*In English: We had extensive troubles with our content management system, Ektron. My division Vice-President and the campus Chief Information Officer and various directors had a phone conference with Ektron chiefs about it. They sent a technical support engineer to our campus for two days, at their expense, who determined what the problems were and fixed them.

Life is a series of yellow exclamation points

2009-07-07T16:47:38Z

Monday I found myself thinking of my day in terms of unfinished quests. Yes, I've played way too much World of Warcraft, apparently. But given what I do for a living, it makes sense. All of the websites I have to convert to Ektron can be thought of as quests. I've collected the requests, but I can't seem to complete them. Now they're stacking up, taking up room in my inventory, to the point that I really need to turn some in before I can accept any more.

My goal for the week is to see at least ONE yellow question mark. Is that too much to ask?

Beautiful images

2009-07-07T11:50:23Z

I'm a few weeks behind on my comics reading. This morning I read Detective Comics #854. Ahhhh. How delicious it was. Art by the incomparable J. H. Williams III. That sample doesn't do it justice. I don't know how I could have forgotten his wonderful work on Promethea--one of the main reasons I bought it. Well, that and its Alan Moore bizarre-freaky-fantastic-wonderment. The drawing is superb, and the colors by Dave Stewart and lush and vibrant. The contrasts in the last pages between Batwoman and her nemesis, all in pastels, are striking.

Oh, interesting storyline, too. :)

Drastic Perspective Change

2009-06-06T14:16:40Z

This is so funny to me. T and I played Warcraft last night with the friend I talked about in the last entry. He finally got his headphones to work, so we actually spoke with him--which amazes me. I know, I know. VOIP is an established thing. Still amazing.

We found out he's 14.

And now I'm not as keen to play with him. We're old enough to be his parents. Or, as Thomas helpfully pointed out, possibly even his grandparents. (That's a stretch.) We never actually told him our ages, but T asked questions like, "Do your parents mind you playing", etc. Obviously "old man" questions.

So funny. He was so much like my nephew was at that age, down to the really lame joke he told.

I kinda don't think this is what my therapist had in mind when she wanted me to broaden my circle of friends.

Real People in a Simulated World

2009-06-04T12:39:21Z

Last night I actually interacted at length with a real person while playing World of Warcraft. Seriously! Thomas and I have played with a coworker of his, but this was someone I've never met IRL before. I met him Monday night when I was getting killed about 8 times by ravagers, but I was barely civil, because, um, GETTING KILLED ABOUT 8 TIMES BY FREAKIN' RAVAGERS. Plus it was getting late and I was trying to wrap it up. Thomas had started over as a night elf and was leveling up to meet me somewhere.

So last night, Thomas was adventuring with two people he'd met (and whom I'm joining tonight, because they need a healer--I'm an 11th level draenei shaman). This guy messages me again, asking me if I'm still getting killed. I was in the midst of cleaning out a cave full of wrathscale nagas, and having a pretty easy job of it, so I was able to chat some. He's a couple of levels above me, also a draenei shaman, and has played for a couple of years. He ended up helping me find a jewelcrafter trainer in the Exodar so I could gain that profession, and gave me some scrolls.

I was proud of myself for interacting, but it's more stressful than just playing. T said the same thing when he came upstairs to check on me. All in all, I think my therapist might approve.

Hey, it's not like I'm Codex.

Spring Concert, Montevallo Chorale

2009-05-12T11:51:41Z

Here's the program for the Spring Concert, Montevallo Chorale, Sunday, May 10, 2009, 3:00 p.m., University of Montevallo, LeBaron Recital Hall. Gary Packwood, conductor. Matthew Rose, accompanist.

Morning Has Broken - Text by Eleanor Farjeon, Music by Shawn Kirchner
The Lord is My Shepherd - Psalm 23, Paraphrase A.P., Music by Allen Pote
Basket, from Four Pastorales - Text by Thomas Hornsby Ferril, Music by Cecil Effinger
Sure on This Shining Night - Text by James Agee, Music by Samuel Barber
A Red, Red Rose - Text by Robert Burns, Music by Z. Randall Stroope
America, the Beautiful - Text by Katherine Lee Bates, Music by Samuel A. Ward, Arranged by Rollo Dilworth
I Want Jesus to Walk with Me - Music by Rollo Dilworth
I'll Never Say Goodbye, from The Promise - Text by Alan Bergman & Marilyn Bergman, Music by David Shire, Arranged by Mac Huff
Like a Mighty Stream - Arranged by Moses Hogan

Coping with Life

2009-05-11T12:12:35Z

Life is about coping with life.

Okay, maybe that's not terribly profound. It's something that occurred to me this morning. I've just had a bad week, emotionally, for no apparent reason, other than coping with change.

I always feel compelled to add caveats when I make flat statements, in the interest of full disclosure, I guess. Life is about more than just coping, but it's a basic element. If you can't cope, you can't do much else. As my therapist says, if you keep out all the bad stuff, you also keep out the good stuff.

My best friend is coping with a whole host of new life changes: he has a child at an advanced age (not THAT advanced, but after becoming somewhat set in his ways), dealing with several personal losses, being the head of his extended family, mundane and spiritual worries...It's difficult. It's also difficult for me, trying to understand what he's going through, wanting to help, not knowing what to do, coping with my own fears.

My wise pastor said yesterday in the sermon that you never know what is going to happen to you in life. He's said before that you choose how you're going to react to what happens to you.

I like the word "intentional." Coping is intentional. Making choices. It is SO hard when you're in the middle of a depression episode to see any way out. Like being inside a deep valley that's dark and you can't see up above the hills surrounding you to know that somewhere the sun is actually out and it isn't night anymore. The "valley of the shadow of death," I guess.

Coping is an action verb, though. I guess "hide more" is too, but that's not a constructive option. It didn't help me any last week.

Not sure I have any answers, really. Cope. Reach out. Keep choosing.

Sometimes day by day is way too hard. Sometimes it's hour by hour. You can't eat an elephant all at once.

Blogalyser result

2009-04-23T16:39:59Z

The Blogalyser reveals...

Your blog/web page text has an overall readability index of 16.

This suggests that your writing style is intellectual
(to communicate well you should aim for a figure between 10 and 20).Your blog has 32 sentences per entry, which suggests your general message is distinguished by verbosity
(writing for the web should be concise).

CHARACTER MATRIX

male		female
self		world
past		future

Your text shows characteristics which are 58% male and 42% female
(for more information see the Gender Genie).
Looking at pronoun indicators, you write mainly about yourself, then the world in general and finally your social circle. Also, your writing focuses primarily on the present, next the past and lastly the future.

Find out what your blogging style is like!

My weirdness, according to Hatmandu

2009-04-23T16:36:32Z

So, dkfitch, your LiveJournal reveals...

You are... 0% unique, 20% peculiar, 0% interesting, 20% normal and 60% herdlike (partly because you, like everyone else, enjoy writing). When it comes to friends you are normal. In terms of the way you relate to people, you are keen to please. Your writing style (based on a recent public entry) is conventional.

Your overall weirdness is: 26

(The average level of weirdness is: 29.
You are weirder than 57% of other LJers.)

Find out what your weirdness level is!

Here's how I see it

2009-04-20T19:31:59Z

On the topic of Twitter/Facebook, etc.

I use Twitter to post to Facebook. Keeps me succinct and satisfies posts at two places at once. Twitter is so "it" and fun, I feel like I need a presence there, especially when I start really marketing my work. @dkfitch

I am loving Facebook. I never thought I'd have 90 friends. The vast majority of them are writers from HWA whom I've never met in person. Seeing their status updates about their writing projects gives me a real sense of comradery, and I enjoy seeing what other people's writing processes are.

I have a MySpace page, but never use it. The nasty backgrounds give me such a headache. I'm a terrible web design snob.

I use LiveJournal for blogging longer entries, which then get posted to Facebook.

My website, www.passarola.com, I use as a home base. Anyone can get to it and find it. That's where I keep my updated resume and works list.

Each site serves a purpose. I like applications that help me maximize the use of each one for duplicative information, but I try not to duplicate too much.

Surgery Anniversary

2009-04-12T20:47:06Z

Today is the 2-year anniversary of Thomas' quadruple bypass surgery. Wow. Hard to believe.

Rebekah on Facebook

2009-03-31T12:52:16Z

Here are screen caps of my Facebook posts (mostly repeats of the tweets), but with comments from well-wishers.

Tweets from Mar.22-24 about Rebekah

2009-03-31T12:15:47Z

Here's a compilation of the tweets I sent related to Rebekah. I'm suspicious of the times as it gets later, because she was actually born at 10:47 p.m.

Off to lead worship all by myself. And break the news, "Nope, no baby yet. But tomorrow." Half expect her to arrive while I'm in church. :)7:30 AM Mar 22nd from TweetDeck
Great start. At toyota place. Battery issues.5:55 AM Mar 23rd from txt
Back at work. Hoover Toyota is fast! Hate that I missed my best working time. On the + side, I got a car wash.7:52 AM Mar 23rd from TweetDeck
Dang, totally forgot about that meeting until Outlook reminded me. Then it went by so fast I blinked and nearly missed it. Crazy day.9:27 AM Mar 23rd from TweetDeck
Wishing they had webcams in maternity at Brookwood. Or maybe I don't. Still wanna know how J is doing. And if S has smashed anyone yet.9:29 AM Mar 23rd from TweetDeck
Baby report: J's hanging in there, no baby yet, everyone fine so far.10:53 AM Mar 23rd from TweetDeck
Sitting in maternity waiting room with the family.2:39 PM Mar 23rd from TwitterFon
She's at 9 cm, no baby yet. Dr arriving soon, so maybe more then? J is tired.3:50 PM Mar 23rd from TwitterFon
Had dinner with Scott in hosp caf. She's 9+ but not low enough yet.5:19 PM Mar 23rd from TwitterFon
Latest report from S: will check in 20 min, then may be ready to start pushing.5:51 PM Mar 23rd from TwitterFon
Rebekah still isn't out yet.7:13 PM Mar 23rd from TwitterFon
Still waiting, no word since last time he came out and reported. We are very restless!7:53 PM Mar 23rd from TwitterFon
And still we wait. We think we're the only people on the whole floor and they've all gone home.8:40 PM Mar 23rd from TwitterFon
She's fine, still pushing. OMg.9:28 PM Mar 23rd from TwitterFon
Dr making decision on forceps vs c-section. Baby fine. J really tired. S looks exhausted.9:45 PM Mar 23rd from TwitterFon
7 lbs 7 oz-& curly red hair !10:13 PM Mar 23rd from TwitterFon
All are fine, I'm off home10:14 PM Mar 23rd from TwitterFon
Got to see Rebekah, Scott & Janica. All are beautiful. 20 1/2 in long. Tried to upload pix but SprintMail not working. Will try after sleep.12:07 AM Mar 24th from TweetDeck
Cat woke me. Need more sleep. Trying to send pix of Rebekah again, but stupid SprintMail is still acting up.5:35 AM Mar 24th from TweetDeck
Two pictures of Rebekah posted. She's about an hour old in them.5:49 AM Mar 24th from TweetDeck

Wonderful World of Alabama Weather

2009-03-31T12:01:43Z

As I headed out of the neighborhood this morning, I noticed a couple of really bright flashes in the east. Now, I leave at 6 a.m., and it was quite dark still. I wondered if it was the nearby searchlights at the Shelby County Airport, but it was brighter than that. I stopped at the intersection by the Shell station, about a stone's throw from the interstate, and began seeing amazing lightning, bright white horizontal plasma streaks against the dark gray, like someone had cracked open the sky with a ball peen hammer.

All the way up I-65, the lightning continued in a semicircle to the northwest, north and northeast. A few streaks dashed down to earth, but mostly they were tangled up like luminescent yarn across the horizontal. The streaks lit up a cloud layer that seemed to be moving toward the east, but no rain.

Until I started up the hill toward the Alford Ave. exit. Huge splats of rain bombarded my windshield, accompanied by thunder. Traffic slowed to that "OMG-it's-raining-slam-on-the-brakes-for-no-apparent-reason" speed on the way down the hill, and the rain intensified. Lakeshore Drive was attempting to revert to its pre-1908 state (when there was actually a lake there instead of just a creek), and I switched my wipers to full intensity.

For some reason, the rain usually slackens when I get to campus. For that I'm grateful. It's only a few yards from my car to the side door of Samford Hall, although it was still raining enough to require an umbrella.

Now I sit in my cozy office, listening to the thunder as the rain settles in for awhile. The bad stuff wasn't supposed to hit until this afternoon. This was just a nice surprise.

Lessons from Rebekah!

2009-03-27T17:53:14Z

I'm an aunt again! Well, not by blood, by as my therapist tells me, family is more than just the people you're related to.

I've alternately dreaded and looked forward to the blessed event since August, learning to work through my infertility and abandonment issues with the help of my wonderful therapist, and I'd gotten to the point where I was impatient and excited to see the little one.

Monday morning S & J went in early to the hospital to be induced, since dear little Miss Stubborn hadn't put in an appearance yet. Which was good, better an orderly advance than a panicked one. I started my morning with a dead battery. Thos had to jumpstart my car, and I hied me to the Toyota place. Well, it was time for an oil change anyway. S had said the baby would most likely arrive between 12 and 6, so my plan was to stay at work as long as I could stand it, then go by the hospital.

During the day, my agent called and we discussed marketing my first novel. I assured her I'd email her a marketing summary that night after getting home from the hospital.

Lesson 1: Unborn babies do what they want to do when they are ready to do them.

Hoover Toyota was quick, and by 8:30 I was back at work, $115 poorer, but with a new battery, fresh oil and a car wash. I settled down and got some work done. S called me somewhere around lunchtime to report on the centimeterage, saying it would be a few hours yet. The family was waiting in the labor and delivery waiting room.

As the afternoon went on, though, I was able to concentrate less and less, but made it until 3, when I dashed over to Brookwood Women's Center. I'd brought with me a new crochet project (an afghan for Rebekah in shades of blue) and Jim Butcher's Small Favor, prepared to sit for a couple of hours. I found the correct waiting room and joined S's mom and aunt and J's parents, sister, brother-in-law and nephew.

Lesson 2: Shared purpose can make for comradery and family feeling.

We had quite the jolly time. At first the room was crowded with people awaiting newborns, but as the afternoon wore on, the crowd thinned. I crocheted quite a lot and compared Huntsville experiences with J's mom. Still no Rebekah. S's brother showed up at one point. At last, around 5, S came out and had dinner with us in the hospital caf. He was obviously worn out, but J made him come eat.

I kept up posting at least every 30 minutes on Twitter so people in the outside world would know what was going on.

Lesson 3: Wi-fi in waiting rooms is EXCELLENT.
Lesson 3a: I MUST be connected at all times.

About 7, I think, S reported that they had begun pushing. We watched an episode of How I Met Your Mother and I continued crocheting. As the evening wore on, everyone grew more and more anxious for news. S reported when he could, but during the pushing part, he was needed. His chaotic aunt went in search of answers behind doors marked "Authorized Personnel Only." Still pushing.

Lesson 4: S's aunt and mother are definitely chaotic good.

At like 10:30, S, looking on the verge of tears and beyond exhaustion, reported that they were deciding between forceps and C-section. Then, not 15 minutes later we got the glad tidings:

"7 pounds, 7 ounces, curly red hair."

Much, MUCH rejoicing. I was so happy, but really numb by that time. I made some calls, posted the news. We expected it would take about an hour for anyone to see Rebekah, and I was so tired by that point, I was preparing to leave.

Then S called his mom and said we could all come back and see her.

Oh, she was so beautiful. Tiny, and indeed with red hair. J looked beautiful, S looked tired but so happy. He held his little daughter as if he'd always had her, and they looked so natural. Made me feel so good inside.

But hot. The room was so hot. I started feeling faint and low blood sugar-y. I sat on the floor and snagged S's Coke and fortunately critted my Will save not to throw up. Five times in succession. A miracle, that. I could tell the room got really quiet. I was upset too about having any attention focused on me, but S was calming, as usual. I soon felt better. I think it was a combination of the adrenalin, the late hour, the emotion.

Lesson 5: I do not function well past 10 p.m.

It was an amazing experience. I got home at 1:30 a.m. Had to go in to a meeting 12 hours later, feeling a lot of bleary.

I'm so excited about my new niece. Looking forward to seeing her again. And watching her grow into a fine and (I hope) geeky young woman.

Lesson 6: My therapy has been well worth the money.

Waiting game

2009-03-23T12:44:23Z

Today is a day of waiting. Knew part of it would be, didn't expect this much.

My car wouldn't start this morning, so disconcerting. Worked last night. Some change is quick.

This afternoon I'll wait for my best friend's baby to arrive. This change I've expected and prepared for.

I think the latter change has more far reaching consequences. But what do I know?

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

On Point of View

2009-03-20T12:30:20Z

I started out my current novel (still untitled) in first person. That seemed the most natural and direct. But the further I got into it, the more difficult it became. Wow, I had 100,000 words to write, I realized. My other two novels have been third person subjective (or maybe limited) for each character, weaving together their stories, but mainly focusing on one protagonist.

Last night I switched this novel to third person. I added a prologue and a scene from the past in another viewpoint (which I did a lot in my other novels), and converted all the first person to third. So far it seems to work a lot better.

A writing philosophy that seems to work for me right now is that if I get bogged down, and the writing seems too hard, it's not right in some sense. If I back up and re-evaluate, I find that a slightly different direction in the dialogue or description (or even the narrartive style) helps it flow more smoothly.

I'm hoping these chapters from the past will heighten suspense as well and make the reader go, "Now how does that fit in?" Then when it does, the reader can have that enjoyable moment of "OMG, now I see! Yikes!"

And that's the effect I'm going for.

Novel update

2009-03-14T15:19:36Z

I noticed that the account of the person who does the novel meter I'm using has been suspended. Bummer sad! But I believe I can do the higher mathematics involved to figure out how far along I am.

6,395/100,000 = 6.4%

I do write so terribly slow!

Updated word count

2009-03-04T02:20:26Z

My novel is proceeding pretty well. I'm up to the end of chapter 2:

4,799 / 100,000
(4.8%)

Novel progress

2009-02-21T21:32:19Z

Back this summer, I posted that I was going to work on a past novel. I didn't pursue that. I've started a brand new novel instead of picking up from long ago half-written bits. It doesn't have a name yet, and I'm not really comfortable discussing it at this point. My chief (or possibly only) blog reader knows what it's about and has been very helpful in research for it.

Here's my progress on it:

2,751 / 100,000
(2.8%)

Dr. Horrible is Creepy-Cute!

2009-02-21T21:06:35Z

I made this little guy for my brother for his birthday. I used the basic form from Creepy Cute Crochet by Christen Haden, given to me by my wonderful and wacky friends. His goggles and freeze ray are made with Premo Sculpey. His eyes and gloves are felt.

On the right are the keys to a shiny new Australia, with which I also gifted him. These are also made of Premo Sculpey and Fun Wire. The smaller key is the valet key.

The Rogue Airship, or The Investigations of the Hephaestus

2009-02-21T15:06:03Z

Chapter 7, In Which We Resolve Matters

I struggled against the constraint of the creature’s braided tail around my waist as its gaping golden maw loomed closer. My notebook nearly slipped from my nerveless fingers as it swung me through the air in response to attacks upon it by Luli and Mister Pavaka. Its incessant humming rose to a shriek that further shredded my concentration as a shot rang out from the deck of the Hephaestus, striking perilously close to me.

“Colonel Mallet!” I said, raising my voice above the hum. “I appreciate the assistance, but its body is a much broader target!”

“My apologies, Miss Wesley!” he called back, and I could hear the wry smile in his voice. “I overestimated your attachment to this present life. Watch out, it’s bleeding on you! If that substance can be called blood.”

I swiveled my head as best I could up the length of the creature’s braided tail. Colonel Mallet’s bullet had grazed it, and a glittering viscous substance gouted from the wound. I stretched as far as I could, gasping against its firm grip around me, and wiped my forefinger through the goo. It tingled unpleasantly on my skin, but I grasped my notebook and quickly wrote the intricate sigils for the spell unravel.

Nothing happened.

I tore the page from the notebook as the glittering blood dried on the paper, vanishing bit by bit as it did so.

The creature jerked me closer to its maw, the sudden action sending the notebook flying out of my grasp. I felt stunned, hopeless.

As I dangled upside down, the page of faintly visible sigils still clutched in my hand, the cries of Luli and Colonel Mallet and Mister Pavaka rang in my ears. But above them all I heard Father Bartolomeu’s calm voice.

“Feed it the paper,” he said softly.

I dropped the enchanted page inside the maw.

Almost instantly I fell to the deck, hands protecting my head as the tail coiled down on top of me. I peered out and saw that the spell had worked. The creature had literally unraveled. Its remains lay on the deck like so many yards of glittering golden yarn.

Father Bartolomeu helped me to my feet. “Thank you, Father,” I said. “You saved my life.”

He grinned and shrugged. “It was my pleasure after all you’ve done.”

“But now we must stop the culprit,” I continued. I whirled and called over to Colonel Mallet, “Where’s Mr. Urantu?”

The colonel looked around and frowned. “I thought he was—“

“He’s in danger,” I said. “The entire ship is. His sister is the cause of the deterioration of the aether—not to mention the golden woman and this—this thing.”

“Porphyria Urantu?” His disbelief was obvious, but in his years with the Order of the Argus he had doubtless seen and heard more astonishing things.

Father Bartolomeu stayed with his ship while Mister Pavaka followed Luli and I back onto the Hephaestus after what seemed ages away. I made quick introductions. He and Colonel Mallet eyed each other suspiciously as men are wont to do. I brushed past them and snapped, “As I believe I mentioned, we are all in serious danger while you two mark out your territory. “

A dark mist rolled through the bridge of the airship, shivering my spine with an unnatural chill. Even Luli glanced at me apprehensively, but Mister Pavaka laughed and waved his arms extravagantly. “I grow tired of these sorcerous antics,” he pronounced. A stiff breeze rustled through the chamber, quickly dispelling the mist.

Colonel Mallet raised an eyebrow and nodded to the marut, who grinned broadly. The colonel drew a pistol and crept cautiously down the spiral stairs to the hold. Mister Pavaka followed, Luli and I close behind.

The hold was awash in aethereal energies. Granito Urantu stood at the end closest to us, while at the far end, behind a translucent sparkling golden barrier, was his sister Porphyria. Against the far wall between them lay the body of Lieutenant Popkins, her erstwhile companion.

“She is in league with the Chieftain!” Mister Urantu said, his accent heavy in his anger, his thick fingers moving in delicate patterns as his face tensed in concentration. “That is why she was permitted to leave the Mountain. The Chieftain ordered her on mission.”

“I shall destroy the aether,” Porphyria Urantu responded, her voice flat. “And remake it after our design, the design of our people, when the Ironwright Dweorthen ruled the skies above and below.”

“You are mad,” her brother said. He lunged forward a step, and a spike of silver slithered through her defenses.

Miss Urantu cried out, and for a moment the barrier fell. I saw that she held a pair of knitting needles, the same ones I’d seen her with on the deck above, with a wide and glittering golden swath of fabric between them. The needles flew and the barrier reappeared. “I am not mad. You do not know our history, Brother. I seek to restore us to our ancient glory. Join me.”

“Ha!” Mister Pavaka cried out. “I remember your kind!” He leaped over the stair railing. I felt the crackling of energy from his body, embers of copper sparking around him. “I have heard the true stories.” He darted toward Porphyria Urantu’s barrier, swift as lightning. “The Ironwright Dweorthen did not rule the skies, neither above nor below. They were the allies of the marut.” The aura around him glowed more brightly as he spoke the name of his race. “It was the Wraith Iron faction who plotted to rule, to remake the aether in their image.” He crooked his arms and spun like a top, creating a small but precisely controlled funnel of wind. “We are the guardians of the aether,” Mister Pavaka said joyously.

The barrier vanished with the onslaught of the wind. The knitting needles and their strange cloth flew across the room. Mister Urantu picked them up, and I realized the cloth was attached to nothing, no ball of yarn. She must have derived it from the aether itself.

“I am Vatyaupamya Rudra Resman Pavaka,” the marut said, leaning toward the sorceress. “And you are my prisoner.”

Mister Gesman was quite pleased with our resolution of the case, particularly with our newfound alliance with the marut, or at least one of them. More problematic was the leadership crisis among the Ironwright Dweorthen after the Chieftain was taken into Federal custody. The Hephaestus went in dry dock, as it were, for much needed repairs, overseen by the capable hands of The Engineer. I took a brief vacation.

I still haven’t found out Luli’s story. I guess the time is not yet right.