Monday, July 6, 2015

What day is it again?*


I've been saying that a lot lately. Since the last weekend of April, I've been out of town or had obligations of some sort or had a guest every weekend. Me very, very tired.

And we won't talk about the state of my apartment or the fact that I neglected my new pet George for the first month we cohabited. He's a juvenile bearded dragon lizard and should have been handled every day. Alas, now he just scrambles away as fast as his little legs will run and then bristles and hisses his displeasure, when he's not actively trying to bite me.**

I'm not sure what this blog will turn into, but I've been thinking about doing a SciFi/Fantasy book review once a month, since I am a scifi geekstress. Mwahahahahha....

OK, I'm officially too tired to blog coherently, so I'm signing off. With a scifi poem from a couple years ago, written for Robert Lee Brewer's Poetic Asides Wednesday prompt series. I think it's from March 2013.

Let's Fly To The Moon

Let's take a trip among the stars.
Sleep through space and time.
Embrace the death we leave behind on Earth
while we breathe deep the gas
that gives us long life
and dislocated stars.

* This was written last Friday but not posted then because my laptop ran out of juice. 'Cuz I lost my power cord and had to buy a new, and very expensive!, cord from the Mother Ship, aka the nearest Apple store.

** I will eventually post pics of George, once I excise 70 G of photos off my laptop and have HD space available for backing up my phone again.

Monday, June 15, 2015

Hi again, in the same week, sorta!



View of the Nice Bridge spanning the Potomac River



One of these days, I will be a computer geekstress to match my other geekiness factors. Right now, I do a dang good Yosemite Sam impersonation. Frequently. I'll leave it at that.

I must now go contact a computer guru to help me with the old, but still working, Mac. I have issues. As in, the issues are user error issues not laptop issues. Well, that's a sorta, kinda maybe true statement.

Thursday, June 4, 2015

Er, Hi?

This is the knee which has been swelling on and off for almost a year now.

Yes, the edge of my sleep shirt says:  Sleeps with dogs.

I think it covers all the possibilities, if I ever think about lying down with two or four-footed animals again. Hmm, it's gonna be awhile, folks.

See previous posts on sucking at this whole blogging thing.

Sigh.

Well, a lot has happened since I last logged on here.

Since April of 2014, I have been separated from the SO who was less than supportive of my creative process, both the photography and the writing.

I survived another winter with SADS. Barely. There were some weekends where the only time I left the bed was to pee, eat or plug my phone in. Sometimes I only ate once a day.

I read a lot of crap on my Kindle, my Nook for iPhone. Total escapism reading. Will not be divulging the utter crap titles.

I impersonated an ostrich a lot, with my head in the proverbial sand, not thinking about the upcoming divorce.

Cried only a bit.

Lost custody of the spotted dog.

Running/exercised occasionally. Knee swelled a lot. Finally got an Rx for physical therapy. PT does not think it's a meniscus tear. Just the tracking of my patella.  Lots of strengthening exercises later, my patella still is too wonky medially & laterally. But it's better. And I have an ex-triathelete's brain to pick about getting my running gait less like Grover's (he taught me everything he knew, which is why I ended up in PT ;)

Gotta get to Freddy to talk to my phone carrier about running out of data prematurely.  And kill some Zombies so I'll be prepared for the Zombie Apocalypse.

Hopefully, I'll be back before 2016, Zombies notwithstanding.

Oh, I almost forgot!  I had a poem published in the 2015 edition of The Gunpowder Review. I'm actually attending the reading in Bel Air, MD on June 14 at the Barnes & Noble there. Starts at 2, if anyone is interested. Here's the Lulu link:

http://www.lulu.com/shop/vonnie-winslow-crist/the-gunpowder-review-2015/paperback/product-22119908.html

Saturday, February 8, 2014

What's in a Name?

I'm a waffler.

Almost 50/50 split between right and left brain.

It's damn difficult for me to make a decision, YEARS in some instances. But once I do, I usually do not look back. (Just ask exes who aren't in my life anymore. : )

I've ruminated upon this idea for a couple of years. Actually, since the first time my SO pitched a hissy-fit when a slightly risque poem was published in a regional mag -- "My 'clients' might read that and get the wrong idea? This is a small town. I have to be careful..."*

Still haven't laid that particular argument to rest. So, when I get published, what name goes on the by-line? My maiden name? My initials and my married last name? Or under A.N. Ymouse? (yeah, that was bad. I suck at puns.)

So, Universe, I ask, What is in a name?

* I slightly fudged the semantics there for obfuscation of said SO's profession

Saturday, February 1, 2014

Her last walk*

Her name was Scully. Yes, she was named after Dana Scully from The X-Files. I am a terminal geek. She had inoperable cancer and had to be euthanized summer before last. Less than two months later my Mom died, also of inoperable cancer. That summer sucked.

So did last summer, when my 11-year-old GSP** got sick with some undetermined bug that all but shut down his kidneys. There is nothing like giving an uncooperative dog 2 ounces of water every 15 minutes to appreciate his emptying a 20 ounce water bowl at one long drinking session. Oh, did I mention the IV saline we had to rig up for his dangerously dehydrated spotted butt?

That was July, halfway between the anniversaries of Scully and my Mom's deaths. I disappeared for about four months and only started coming out of my depression when I weaned myself off of anti-depressants, ironically enough. And started exercising again. And writing my morning brain-drain pages while basking in front of a blue light for 20 minutes in the morning. It wasn't just one thing, it was a combination of activities which propelled me toward healthier thoughts.

I will always fight SADS (expletive Seasonal Affective Disorder Syndrome). It affects me in summer (expletive heat) and winter (expletive lack of usable wavelength sunlight). But I must remind myself that it's better when I write, when I play with images, and when I move my lazy @ss.

Let's hope I continue to post here on a semi-weekly basis. Yes, I have another RLB*** challenge, and blogging is one of those things I should do...

* Scully was 14.3 years old.
** German Shorthair Pointer, AKA spotted dog.
*** Robert Lee Brewer, poet, editor (Writer's Market, etc)


Monday, July 1, 2013

Suckage

Yes, I know, I still suck at this whole blog thing.

Well, I had a good weekend, even if my SO was home stuck with the dog because his niece backed out of dog-sitting at the last minute.  Never trust a teenager. 

I still am about a week behind in my online Literature of Science Fiction class.  I put off reading "Frankenstein" that first week of class and have yet to catch up.  I have a solid A average, but prolly will never take an online lit class again. I like the actual class atmosphere.  And reacting to class discussion as opposed to reading a boat-load of responses on the computer.

I get to write my final on "Farscape," which tickles the crap outta me.  Gotta find that fan-book to see if I can get any useful quotes to use in my final.

Who-hoo!  I actually posted on my blog.

And I'm not doing Camp NANO this year. Too effin busy.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Post-Mortum

This is the weekend I meet my 2 sisters in NC and we head to my Mom's small hometown to spread her ashes around her headstone. We are planting daffodils I have yet to dig out of my back yard. And I bought some Iris bulbs to plant. Guess we'll have to plant them close to her headstone so they don't get mowed over by the groundskeepers.

My older sister feels like this should just be us girls, since the memorial service brought friends and family together to remember her life. I'm of two minds. I feel that we should warn my Mom's closest friend in her hometown to let her know we are coming rather than just calling her out of the blue, so she can make plans. And two days notice is better than day of notice, right?

Anyway, my Mom missed 23 years of North Carolina springs while living in the Alaskan Bush. It's appropriate that we embrace spring for her this year.

Miss you Mom.