Archive | January 2014

PicFic – one angry guy with horns.

Jan21

This ficlet was written after looking at this sketch by silvertales, with their permission. He looked like someone out of a sub-line of a bloodline of Addergoole (Although the horns had to have come from his mother’s side of the family…), so I asked @Kissofjudas to name him, since ri’s named most of Astarot’s line.

This was actually an experiment in how much I could write the mood without revealing the plot.

“No.”

Mormo was unimpressed.

“Yes.”

To be fair, everyone in the room was unimpressed.

“I said no, damnit.” Mormo glared across the room. One hoof scuffed the floor, and the tracework of lights that was part of his Change lit up his forehead and cheeks. “This is my last year of school. There’s no way.”

“It has to be done.” Now it had turned into a three-way argument. Tempers were only going to get hotter. I stayed in a corner, watched the three of them, and said nothing at all. This might be about me, but it didn’t involve me.

The glow from Mormo’s forehead was threatening to blind the rest of the room. “There is no way. No way that you are going to talk me into that. And especially not with her.“

“Nobody is asking your opinion on the matter. We’re telling you how things are going down.”

I wanted to say something. I really did. Her? Like I was some sort of non-entity?

But they had pushed Mormo too far, and that was about when everything exploded.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/641571.html. You can comment here or there.

Poured Concrete Counters with recycled glass

Jan21

Links:
http://icestoneusa.com/
http://www.vetrazzo.com/eng (just recycled glass)
http://www.houzz.com/recycled-glass-concrete-countertops

Saw this on a This Old House or similar years ago, and have been attracted to it ever sense.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/641368.html. You can comment here or there.

Homesteading: Next Project Up

Jan21

The next project is a small one.

(After I: tidy the sewing job on the door curtain; sand the raw edge on the bedroom hooks)

Okay, two small ones, one much smaller than the other. First: Hang the mirror in the bedroom.

Second: The walls in the bathroom are ugly, and will be until we raise the ceiling. Also, I have a wire shelving unit for over the toilet just waiting to be installed.

I have bought the materials, and now I want to stretch a panel of fabric over a wooden frame (the fabric is a brown swirl on a buff-colored polyester suede) and hang it over the worst wall (the one I pulled the paneling off so we could see how bad it was), then install the wire shelving in front of it.

THEN I’m going to make a little 8″ cube fabric basket with the scraps.
Whee!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/641236.html. You can comment here or there.

Homesteading: Woodworking skills

Jan21

Ever think you “had” a skill, only to realize what you had was the bare rudiments?

That’s sort of what’s been happening to me with woodworking.

I know how to use power tools. I know how to screw two piece of wood together – or nail, even – without making a mess of things. I can put moulding around a window with reasonable mitered joints. I can make a raised bed with no trouble at all. I can use most power tools pretty well.

Gutting and redoing a house (or making furniture, which is the next step) requires so much more than that.

Skills I need to get a handle on to finish the foyer:
* I need to learn how to use a Kreg Jig (link) to make pocket holes. This is for the overhead bin’s frame, for invisible joins.

(The overhead bin is a storage unit I’m building over the coat-hanging rod)

* I need to learn how to work with a slab of maple (1″-plus thick, 4′ long), how to square it, and how to fill the crack with resin (video link)

* I need to learn how to build a face frame for the bin, and how to hinge the door (the slab of maple, probably in two parts) so that it hangs evenly and looks nice.

When that’s all done, the next skill up is learning to use a router. Because routers are cool.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/641004.html. You can comment here or there.

First and Last Words: Yesterday’s Pirate Nano Addergoole

Jan21

First Line of Yesterday (And last line of the night before) –

He offered her a bright smile and hoped that worked.

It seemed to. She smiled back, at least.

Last line of yesterday:

Somewhere in this room, there had to be a predator she could use as a blind.

I wrote 1554 words of Addergoole and 0 words of “Other” yesterday,
bringing my Addergoole total to 21,655 (goal-to-date 21,250)
and my Other total to 10,490 (goal-to-date 10,200). Right on track!

Well, on adjusted track, from when I took this from 20 days to 23 days. Note to self: break days are a good thing.

How’re you all doing?

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/640525.html. You can comment here or there.

Well, no Wonder My Jeans Don’t Fit Right: the beginning of a weight-loss blog

Jan20

Okay, so, my original goal (when I thought the scale was going to say 166 or so when I stepped on it) was to get to 140 by my father’s birthday, July 15.

My current goal is to get to 150 by July 15 and to 140 by October 1st. (Data point: I’m a broad-shouldered five foot eight woman.)

So, I’d been noticing for the last week that my jeans were uncomfortably tight, and finally stepped on the scale – 176.6 lbs. Um. That’s a bit higher than I’d been expecting. That’s a bit higher than it was last year at this time. 🙁

I’m not going to panic, however. I am NOT going to panic.

What I am going to do is try to go at this like I did when I had over 50 lbs to lose.

I’m going to track everything. Everything. I know I’ve been mindlessly snacking on pretzels at work, and I’m going to count them now.

Exercise: I joined the gym again last week. 2x a week in the gym, 3x if I can wrangle the time, and something physical at total of at least 6x a week.

I am not going to panic.

I’m still pondering /what/ weight-loss/food tracking system to use. Using Weight Watchers worked for me; using Weight Watchers new-system with someone else figuring the points didn’t work nearly as well. So do I go back to old system? Do I buy a membership? Do I try something free?

Food tracking is only half of it; I’ve discovered that I need concrete numbers and limits. And, of course, I need to remember to stay active.

Here we go. 26(ish) weeks, 26(.6) lbs. Let’s go.

Note: Please do not suggest or tell me 1) I don’t want to get down to xx weight, 2) xx is not a healthy weight, 3) anything else suggesting I don’t know what weight I might want to get to/look good having reached.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/640138.html. You can comment here or there.

Another School, Another… (an AU of Addergoole)

Jan19

This is to [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s prompt to this card, for [community profile] trope_bingo. It fills the “au: college / highschool” square.

As such, this is decidedly AU, with characters from my Addergoole ‘verse.

Mike was lost. He straightened his cuffs in tie, checked his reflection in a trophy case (yay, tie, double yay, trophies), and wondered where he was. The school was new, sure, but how could he have gotten this lost before he’d even made it to a class.

“Hey, you the new guy?” They face coming into view up the stairs looked familiar; a quick glance back at the trophy case told Mike why. Broad nose, glower, short no-nonsense haircut, check. He was a lot shorter in person, though.

“That’s me, The new blood.” Mike shifted posture, trying to look shorter. “The dumb one who got lost before my first class.”

“Mike, right?”

“That’s the short form, yeah.” There was absolutely no point in alienating the jock faster than he had to. “And you would be… Luca Hawk?”

“Call me Luke.” Call-me-Luke tilted his head at the stairs. “Professor Storm sent me looking for you. You’re late to class.”

“I think I took a wrong turn at Albuquerque.” The thing was, Call-me-Luke wasn’t glaring any less, but Mike didn’t think it was directed at him in any way. The jock just seemed to be generally glare-y.

“That happens. Other new kid got lost, too.”

“So, will you show me to.. Professor Storm’s class?”

“That’s what I’m here for.” The guy actually cracked a bit of a smile.

Mike was in trouble. When Luke smiled, he was absolutely stunning. He swallowed and let himself be led into class.

The teachers – Ms. Storm and Ms. Kalonimos, Mr. Garcia and Mr. Petros – were far too good looking to be in a school, certainly all in the same school. It didn’t matter. His classmates – Regine and Laurel, Shira and Sang Ki – they were all beautiful, delicious, and even Regine, the school genius, smiled at him. It didn’t matter. The jock had smiled at him.

The guy was helpful, he was friendly, and he was distracting. Mike tripped and fell in gym; Luke caught him and set him on his feet. He got lost three days running, and Luke found him. It would have been brilliant, if Mike was doing it on purpose. If he’d been doing it on purpose… and if had been working.

Shira liked him. He kind of liked Shira, too, scary as she was. (Mike wasn’t one to throw stones, not with his glass house, but he was pretty sure the girl was feral. At least it was a nice-smelling sort of feral). She liked him, and had been very clear on exactly how much she’d like to like him somewhere behind the bleachers.

Ginger liked him. Ginger wanted him to take her to the Homecoming dance. Regine… offered to help him with his homework, which Mike took her up on because he was pretty sure she actually meant it.

But Luca Hawk, Mr. Call-me-Luke… Mike twisted an ankle coming out of class because he was looking the wrong way, slipped, and fell right in front of Luke. Again.

As the jock was helping Mike up, again, he muttered something in Mike’s ear.

He couldn’t have… he didn’t… he… Mike went limp.

I’m flattered, but I’m not into guys.

Mike’s school life had just gotten a whole bunch longer.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/639834.html. You can comment here or there.

Chilly Spring, a 100-word fic of Stranded World

Jan18

To [personal profile] meridian_rose‘s prompt to my other bingo call.

Content warning: grief.

The air was still crisp, this far north. The sun was bright, the sky clear, but it was still in the mid-forties.

Spring had missed proper spring, proper weather, and now she was back for all the wrong reasons. She strode blindly, her fur coat and her anger tightly wrapped around her.

All things pass, Spring What words to end on. All things go around. She was left with that.

Tears were streaking hot down her face. Above her, the cherry blossoms declared it was Spring. Her time. She pulled them into the air, a transient dance. All things pass.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/639534.html. You can comment here or there.

Supply Exhausted

Jan18

This is to [personal profile] thnidu‘s prompt to my [community profile] dailyprompt here.

This fills the “exhaustion” square in the January Bingo Card.

Names from Fourteen Minutes‘ random name generator.

Warning: this might be a bit creepy.

“How can we be running out?” Shadde-Reston had that high-management refusal to accept numbers that Basia knew far too well; one had to work around it with charts and graphics and, if possible, displays that invoked all the senses.

“Let me show you, Se.” When one is the bearer of bad news, be as deferential as possible. One didn’t want to end up being the next bad news.

“I don’t want more charts. Do you understand what this means, Basia? If we run out?”

“Se, I know that we are running out. I know that this will have huge effects on the economy. I know that it will cut the luxuries market by over a half. I know that it will cut the food market by more than that. People will starve.”

“It’s the end of an era!” Shadde’s voice was trilling upwards. Basia responded by keeping a completely level tone of voice.

“It is certainly going to require some changes. The most efficient plan would be to pare luxuries down to the very minimum, curtail euphoric production, and, of course, cut back on imports until we can restructure our economy.”

“I still don’t understand how this could have happened.”

“If you’d let me show you the demonstration, Se?”

“Your demonstrations are always so dreary, Basia.”

“That is my job, Se Shadde-Reston.” When one wasn’t being listened to, sometimes one had to resort to high formality. “This one’s job has always been to distill the facts for the Supervisors. And this one must do one’s job.”

“No displays. No demonstrations. No charts. Just tell me how we could run out? How do you run out of workers? They’re a renewable resource. Leave them alone and they make more of themselves.”

Basia coughed. “That would be the problem, Se. They, ah, stopped making more.”

“What did they do?” Shadde leaned forward over the 100-years-extinct-hardwood desk. “What did they do?”

Basia was going to have to spell it out. “Se Shadde, they stopped breeding. They stopped having sex.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/639467.html. You can comment here or there.

Omens and Ill, a story for the Bonus Round

Jan17

To [personal profile] lilfluff‘s prompt for here, my [community profile] dailyprompt prompt “getting your feet wet.” Also fills “Holy Place” on my January Bingo Card.

New setting? Might be in the same world as the oracle whose god got irritated. (here)

This REALLY feels like a draft of a novel beginning to me.

There were a few blind nay-sayers who took it as an ill omen when the temple of Orestin flooded.

Since most of the rest of the city and the surrounding land were also flooded, the majority of citizens were far less concerned. Their temple held a decent piece of land on a well-known street; the place was well-lit of the night time (when the city was less flooded) and well-trafficked during the day. But it was not on the city’s one hilltop

A few scholars and that sort suggested that it could be a sign that the temples themselves were places of worship, not the homes of the gods. Thus had been suggested since time immemorial, but there was still no agreement on the matter.

The acolytes of Orestin had no time for that debate. They were wading through ankle-deep water to prepare for the morning devotions; they were cleaning out unused space (from a time of greater prosperity; the acolytes of Orestin saved everything, including real estate) for those whose homes were unlivable, they were baking flatbread and pressing cheese, running the ovens full of whatever they could roast just to combat the damp.

An Acolyte of the Mulberry Ring, Tremmin, was currently knee-deep in water at the base of the temple stairs, herding the faithful (or those willing to pretend, at the moment, for a dry place to perch) up the stairs and through one of the three entrances. A citizen caught her eye and smirked, looking as exhausted as she felt. “You’d think it was a Quarterly Festival, wouldn’t you? You’ve even got the back door open.”

She wanted to say something clever, but Tremmin had been awake for, to her count, three days and four bells, although it could have been four days and three bells. The speaker rescued her with a tired smirk and an irreverent thump of the marble. “Orestin, I suspect, does not mind. Nor his is holy place less holy for the work you are doing today. Blessings, Acolyte, and may you find the place you are most proper in.”

“Blessings, Citizen.” The words came out of her mouth without bidding. “May your proper place be waiting for you.”

“I have already found it.” He breezed past, leaving Tremmin, still knee-deep in water, with the uncomfortable feeling that she’d just missed something very important.

She had no time for ill omens, however, so she turned to the next citizen. “Welcome, and may Orestin comfort you in this time of trial.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/638673.html. You can comment here or there.