Monday, January 5th, 2026 12:09 pm
via [personal profile] sanguinity 

1 Grab the nearest book.
2 Turn to page 126
3 The 6th full sentence is your life in 2026.

There are 2 books on my desk. The first is Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit which eldest borrowed from my father and brought me yesterday to take back to him at some point:

"I was, in short, in buoyant mood and practically saying 'Tra la' when I observed Jeeves shimmering up in the manner of one desiring an audience."

Hmm, generally positive though slightly ominous.

The other is The Truants by Kate Weinberg which I gave eldest for Christmas and she has now lent to me:

"And then came Georgie's languorous and decadent voice, asking if I wanted to come and 'knock about the house' with her for a couple of days while her parents were in Mustique."

I mean it would be better if I was being invited to Mustique and it depends how the invitation turns out (also possibly ominous) but both offer Openings for Potential, and indeed Decadence. 

Friday, January 16th, 2026 06:57 am
Fiction

1.The Magic Mountain, Thomas Mann
2. Invisible Line, Su J. Sokol

Non-Fiction

1. Mavericks: Life Stories and Lessons of History's Most Extraordinary Misfits, Jenny Draper
Tags:
Monday, January 5th, 2026 05:35 am
This administration has run so hard from the start on leaded fantasies, the presence of a fossil fuel in its latest scream for the headlines seems macabrely apropos. Oil is indeed a lucratively unrenewable resource, but aren't those equally heady fumes of the Banana Wars and Neptune Spear? In my own throwback to the twentieth century, I haven't been able to get Phil Ochs out of my head. It was in another of his songs that I first heard of United Fruit. I live in endless echoes, but I am tired of these threadbare loops of empire that were already sticky shed and vinegar when another fluffer of American exceptional stupidity hung out his banner of a mission very much not accomplished. Is it the Crusades this time or Manifest Destiny? War Plan Red hasn't panned out so far, but we can always rebrand the Monroe Doctrine. Colombia! Cuba! Greenland! Daddy's shadow and Deus vult. "Every generation of Centauri mourns for the golden days when their power was like unto the gods! It's counterproductive! I mean, why make history if you fail to learn by it?" I was thirteen when I heard that line and I understood the question. Who knew I was going to spend the rest of my life finding out just how many people were never even interested in trying?
Monday, January 5th, 2026 09:22 am
But this election!

Alexander MacDonald, MA (Edinburgh), known to his intimates as Sandy, mounted the short flight of steps to the front door of the attractive residence in Mayfair that he shared with his dear friend Clorinda, Dowager Marchioness of Bexbury. The door was opened to him with almost sinister expedition by Hector, her major-domo.

Over the years he had more or less got over any embarrassment at being helped off with his over-garments, his hat placed carefully upon a rack, stick put out of the way, umbrella, should it be raining, taken to be put somewhere to dry – really, he was quite used to all this, after his years at Raxdell House and now here.

Is Her Ladyship in? he enquired.

In the parlour – and quite alone, Hector added. For one could not at all count upon that, even though it was not Clorinda’s usual day for being At Home to callers. There were so many of her acquaintance might come call for a more private convocation, or to discuss various matters of philanthropy in which she was engaged. He had no desire to intrude on anything of the kind.

Hector announced, Mr MacDonald, Your Ladyship –

O, really, Hector, why so ceremonious? La, I know what it is, he is still overcome that the dear Bishop came to call earlier –

Who would have supposed, years ago when Sandy had first come to know Clorinda, in those days one of the crack courtesans about Town, that she would be having bishops come call? She had first met Bishop Tanton by way of her dear friends the Reverend Dr Hugh Lucas, that was a rector in the diocese of Wyreminster, and his wife Agnes, and discovered him an enthusiast for the drama of the Middle Ages.

And, Sandy had remarked, your lovely eyes, for I am sure bishops do not dwell upon such things as what you were wont to refer to as your famed bubbies. Is he not a widower?

Clorinda had drooped her eyelids at him and said Sandy was a great teaze.

– There is some festival approaches – commemoration of some great event in the diocese – and he is very ardent to have their own miracle play produced. And really, I am by no means confident that it is suited to the refined taste of the present day, sure 'tis of great historic interest no doubt –

And hopes you may introduce him to your theatrical connexions?

Much about the like! said Clorinda with a sigh.

Came in Hector with the tea service and a well-supplied cake-stand.

As if I had not already had my fill, she said, but do you, Sandy, refresh yourself after your endeavours at enlightening young minds.

Tea and the various products of Euphemia’s baking came very grateful!

But in news I am sure you will find more interesting, she went on, for I know church matters are quite anathema to you, I have had a fine budget of news from Emmy di Serrante in Naples. And 'tis by no means the most important matter, but 'tis very amuzing I think you will admit: turns out that in Virginia, the sad end of the late Earl of Nuttenford is considered in the light of a cautionary tale about going about the woods unprepared as to the proper conduct when encountering a bear. For so happens some friend of the father of this Virginian family that she has met there was of the party, and avers that the inhabitants of those parts all know what to do in such a contingency to avoid being eat by the beast.

Sandy grinned and said, To point a moral, and adorn a tale!

Quite. However, it rather spoilt their chances of making up to the Imbremeres when they told the tale in their presence. But to proceed – Basil Linsleigh lingers there, quite besotted with the charms of the young man Marcello and his confederates have put in his way, painting him as every sort of god and hero –

Sandy groaned.

So it is quite the like of Odysseus and Circe. While as for the Imbremeres, they were intending to travel on, but Giulia read her cards for Verena and was very concerned about the prospects of travel. But Emmy supposes that that is less about any omens she saw and about observing Verena having been somewhat sickly and qualmish lately, and does that portend what one must suspect, 'tis wisest not to go to sea just yet. Also, Gussie finds a good deal of botanical interest, so is quite content to linger.

We apprehend that the young di Serrantes are also quite content to linger in those parts, rather than venturing further in the peninsula!

Clorinda sighed and said, 'twas a very pleasant spot. But that she fancied that Nardo found Marcello quite the finest mentor in matters of the cultivation of grapes and making of wine, and that, from what Sir Vernon hinted, Emmy was gleaning useful intelligence in those parts. Who would have supposed?

Sandy lifted his eyebrows and said, fancied her letters to La Signora Umberti also conveyed useful, if somewhat different, intelligence. He glanced at the clock and remarked that he should change – otherwise would be late for his chess game with Father O’Donoghue.

It is good of you to indulge an old fellow that believes you destined for hellfire!

Plays a very sharp game – and one must consider his fine dedication to the cause of Ireland –

Clorinda smiled at him. One might enquire whether he hears aught from Jimmie O’Callaghan in California.

When Sandy arrived at the aged priest’s lodgings, where he was looked after by a couple of much younger priests, or possibly religious of some other kind, Sandy did not interrogate, he discovered that Father O’Donoghue already had a visitor and had not yet set out the chessmen.

MacDonald! – sure the time has run away with us – let me introduce Rory Sullivan from Cork, that has been bringing me a fine budget of gossip, and also some whiskey – I daresay that as a Scot you will turn up your nose –

Sullivan the distiller? asked Sandy, one hears very well of his liquors. He had heard from Matt Johnson that this relative of Lady Wauderkell had been seen in Town about finding his errant cousin and resolving the matter of the family lawsuit, but had not known he still lingered.

Mr Sullivan said indeed so, was obliged to spend some time in England about this sad matter of his cousin Juliana – Lady Wauderkell that was, one understands that she is not entitled to the name of O’Neill and there is a bigamy action being brought against the scoundrel that lately eloped with her, but it waits upon the arrival of certain evidence.

But at least, praise God, she was in safe haven with those fine nuns – must be quite the best thing for her after her ordeals – what a very holy creature was her friend Sister Benedict –

Sandy managed not to splutter his whiskey at this description of a lady who, prior to taking the veil, had been a noted purveyor of special pleasures for gentlemen.

He was talking to the legal fellows at Hassetts – and had also been give several names about the possibility of importing Sullivan’s fine liquors – so remained in Town longer than had originally anticipated – and had heard that the good father was still in life –

Sandy wondered whether there was still some matter of the Irish Cause in play. Sure he had the greatest sympathy with that unhappy island, even was it still direly afflicted with Romish superstition besides the oppressions of the British government.

The conversation drifted towards the failings of the present government and the forthcoming election, though none of 'em were entire sanguine that matters would be improved. There was no suitable opening to enquire whether Father O’Donaghue had any intelligence of how Jimmie O’Callaghan got on in California, or indeed was he even still there.

So Sandy returned to the Mayfair house, and discovered matters there rather more pleasing than he had been in any anticipation of.

Though here was Sophy came to him in the library to wax somewhat indignant that here was Timothy, finds himself in a muddle over some matter to do with the Song and Supper Rooms, and thinks there is naught for it but to beg Maurice for his advice – at this time o’year! With all this additional press of business! 'tis quite shameful. But, at least, here is Euphemia goes make him a good sustaining supper, and you may persuade him to rest and that that he may sleep here –

It was, he supposed, no wonder that the household took his relations with Maurice quite in the normal order of things – Sophy had known how it was with her cousin since their youth – Clorinda’s establishment had ever been in great sympathy to love beyond the usual rules – not merely her lack of concern for monogamous union – but her long happy triangular relation with the late Josiah and Eliza Ferraby – her present liaison with Leda Hacker – and her long friendship with Gervase, the late Viscount Raxdell, Sandy’s former employer and lover, whose secrets she had protected for many years.

Came in Maurice, indeed looking somewhat worn. He threw himself into one of the easy-chairs and commenced upon complaining, not about Timothy’s demands, but the trials that at present beset that crack modiste’s, Mamzelle Bridgette.

'Tis bad enough that we do not have just the usual flurry upon on hand of dressing our patrons for a summer of going about country house parties, that we are used to accommodating – no, that is an expected thing – but this election! – o, there will be all sorts of balls and ceremonious occasions &C to dress for and aside from being dressed appropriate for such things, ‘tis a matter of the colours must be correct – even do they not in the least suit the lady in question, and one dares not suggest they turn their coat –

Sophy sighed in sympathy and said, very trying indeed. She would just go see did Euphemia have his supper ready.

Sandy went to kiss Maurice, stroke the dark curls, and then go to the cupboard in which he prudently kept a bottle of gin alongside port, brandy, and whisky, and poured out a glass.

There, my dear, you will feel better for that.

Maurice took a sip and looked up at Sandy with a sudden, enchanting, mischievous smile. La, you all go indulge my megrims! Well, I will go be a good boy and eat up my nice supper. And then – mayhap a little healthful recreation?

He could still make Sandy blush, but this had fortunately faded by the time Euphemia entered.


Monday, January 5th, 2026 12:47 am
Fr John R Blaker posted on FB that his close friend, and sometime my friend also, Eric Larson, "has taken his own life. His wife Pat Larson had cardiac arrest on December 23 and was 20 minutes without pulse. She was on life support with no brain function until a few days ago."

I'm so very sorry about all of this. I hadn't seen Eric in many years - probably since before he was married; I knew he had been but I don't recall ever having met Pat - but he and John and I were part of a circle of undergraduate science-fiction fans at UC Berkeley in the late 1970s. That's where I knew Eric best from.

We had two Erics in the group. The other was called Eric the Red for his hair color. Eric Larson was Eric the Large. He was very tall, and broadly built, and he had an immeasurably deep voice, which he later parlayed into a role as the PA Voice of God at various sf convention costume presentations.

Eric was a friendly guy, pleasant to be around, a valued member of our little community. Bless his memory.
Monday, January 5th, 2026 08:29 am
Lots of middling stuff in December with one notable exception:

Parrott, Ursula: Ex-Wife. Faber & Faber. 2024.
Discovered, once again through Lost Ladies of Lit (my favourite literary podcast by MILES) this novel from the roaring 1920s gets compared to The Great Gatsby a lot. In my opinion, this is the better book. Bold, outspoken, modern - Ex-Wife (despite the stupid title) is an excellent novel and I'd love for more of Parrott's work to get re-issued. Alas, I can't find anything anywhere. Such a shame!

Schweblin, Samantha: Little Eyes. Riverhead Books. 2020.
For years after Covid I couldn't touch dystopias, even though I've always loved that genre. I'm slowly getting back to those novels (very tentatively), but this was just not IT. It should definitely have been a short story. This isn't so much a novel as it is a collection of interconnected stories in the same world where smart plushies invade people's most intimate spaces. The novel wants to say so many things, but it never really goes there. Additionally, while I think the basic premise sounds plausible to a lot of people it simply doesn't hold up under scrutiny. I won't deny that something like this would appeal both to voyeurists and exhibitionists. But that's about it. The most shocking thing about this novel is the fact that it was on the longlist for the International Booker.

Bridle, James: New Dark Age. Technology, Knowledge and the End of the Future. Verso. 2018.
Bridle sometimes goes on the wildest tangeants (I now know more about Peppa Pig than I ever wanted to know) and his own interests show clearly (he seems overly interested in air travel), but overall this was a riveting and thought-provoking read. I thoroughly enjoyed following him on his journey through the history of technology.

Wood, Benjamin: Seascraper. Viking. 2025.
This novel is set in the 1960s, but it reads like it's the 1660s. Nice language and prose, but it sounds too much like a creative-writing-class for my taste with no actual plot to carry all these fancy words over the finish-line. The last 25% did not seem to belong with the rest of the book and stood out like a sore thumb. If you want to give this a go either way, I'd recommend the audiobook. Well read (and sung) by the author himself.

Whitehead, Colson: Underground Railroad. Doubleday. 2016.
My least successful Whitehead so far, maybe "only" because I'm not American and I couldn't really tell when he was being faithful to the history of slavery and when he was making stuff up. That considerably lessened my enjoymend and what I could take away from the novel. Also, he wasn't doing himself any favours with the many voices and POVs he used throughout. I've been looking forward to reading Underground Railroad for years now, but I must say that this - sadly - was a letdown.
Monday, January 5th, 2026 06:36 am
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.
What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing.
A schedule defends from chaos and whim.
It is a net for catching days.
It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time.
A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed, faked, and so brought into being;
it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time;
it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself,
decades later, still living.
Each day is the same,
so you remember the series afterward as a blurred and powerful pattern.

~ Annie Dillard, The Writing Life
Tags:
Monday, January 5th, 2026 06:02 am
I'm feeling all slow and January, which is not an ideal state, but pressing fast forwards on the calendar does not tend to work. So I am actively planning to do A Thing per day and putting it on my magnet board with the little stars for achievements. Listen A Story is currently a star worthy achievement.

So it took me multiple days to get through this 6th Doctor and Peri box set but they were quite good stories
https://www.bigfinish.com/releases/v/doctor-who-the-sixth-doctor-and-peri-volume-01-2128

... just calling it sixth doctor and peri makes it teensy bit difficult to search on, huh...

The Headless Ones I listened to longest ago and I don't remember specific Good Bits but it was a Doctor Who shaped story.

'Like' has a very social media mediated story and I rather liked it. Read more... )

The Vanity Trap did some interesting things with time technology and the end of an era feel of studios shutting down. Also the behind the scenes stuff feels like they drew a lot from Doctor Who and put a spin on it, as Big Finish should. Good scary ideas and plausible characters.

"Conflict Theory" was doing a lot of Being Funny about psychiatry that I didn't really vibe with.
It also mentioned that at this point in Big Finish, post warrior queen, Peri has been travelling with the Doctor for twelve years.
But then it rug pulled the truth status of everything we'd heard so we don't know, by the end.

... just after I noted that Torchwood does that a lot and Doctor Who doesn't tend to.

I don't think I like Nev Fountain's stories. Don't quite click for me.



All the stories could have been appreciated more by someone with a bit more awake focus to spare so I might have a different opinion of them later.


But I have a Nice Walk scheduled for this week, if the weather cooperates, so I'll see whatever sun there is, and the year do turn onwards.
Sunday, January 4th, 2026 11:27 pm

New Year Book Meme, via [personal profile] trobadora:

  1. Grab the nearest book.
  2. Turn to page 126
  3. The 6th full sentence is your life in 2026.

Here's mine: The book nearest at hand to me is Japanese Soul Cooking by Tadashi Ono and Harris Salat. Page 126 was a page of photographs, page 127 was a mini table of contents for a chapter, so the next full page of text is page 128, where the 6th sentence is "The cities and towns on the western side of Japan, like Osaka and Hiroshima, are the okonomiyaki heartland," which is an interesting fact, but I'm not sure how to take is as a fortune!

Tags:
Monday, January 5th, 2026 04:17 am

Two days of Christmas left! I have two cards with enclosures to send, and presents to wrap (for the family gathering postponed to MLK weekend).

I took the traditional photo at the park on New Year’s Day; a light cold drizzle was falling and there weren’t too many people out, except a few walking their dogs.

a wet picnic table in a muddy park, with dark fir trees towering behind it

Yesterday we went to see Charlie and his owner, our former neighbor who now lives in a retirement complex a few neighborhoods away. I love that little dog so much! When I want to feel cozy at home I pretend I can hear him snoring again. As I begin to browse rescue dogs on the internet with a tiny bit more purpose than before, one of my mental filters is, “Can I see this dog being buddies with Charlie?”

After that we ate lunch at a Syrian cafe within walking distance of our house that we hadn’t tried yet. The mint lemonade is fantastic.

Here’s how my desk is looking these days:

a wooden table lit with banker's lamp and string lights, piled with books, a laptop, pens, and cords.
 
Progress is slow on the fic and risograph; today at the library I picked up a book I’d requested on how to paint travel posters, since that’s approximately the look I’d like for the riso.
 
I bought ingredients to make avgolemono since we have really good stock for it right now. And I think we’re in pretty good shape for the flood of CSA vegetables incoming on Tuesday.
 
Feeling a little old and creaky, as my lower back, which had been doing great after physical therapy this summer, started talking to me again. I will be gentle at the gym tomorrow; I wonder if it will be crowded with resolution-keepers?
 
In a mood to hide from the world and keep reading The Rose Field. And I got quite a few picture books at the library to dream over. It is still the quiet, quiet time.

This post originates at everyday though not every day. Comments welcome here or there.

Sunday, January 4th, 2026 09:47 pm
I've spent the past two days wondering, among other things, how my father felt, on the night we first invaded Iraq, and the days after. I've got the feeling that he, with his particular position in DoD, was more of an accessory to that invasion than I am likely to ever be to any, so long as I merely remain in the library. He stayed in his job for another year, before taking an early retirement. That was partly due to his health, but I know it was partly due to the war as well.
I, of course, am still too young to take any kind of retirement, or to even think there'll be much of one on offer by the time I get old enough. I know I am expected to go to work tomorrow as usual, and I will. I have not yet reached the day when the combination of the fact that losing this job would leave me unlikely to ever be gainfully employed again with my family's woes is not enough justification to do so. But that day feels a lot closer tonight than I did 48 hours ago.
We got further bad news this morning, too, when the man delivering our groceries advised us Giant is shutting down their delivery service, and just having DoorDash do it. I suspect this will mean a drop in quality, possibly even a big one. And none of that will even matter for those increasing number of items that are suffering shortages. After we failed to get sandwich bread with our deliver this morning, I ran down to grab it, and found the shelves mostly empty. They had wonderbread still available, so I fell back on that. This time.
Sunday, January 4th, 2026 06:17 pm

2025--most precisely, the fall of 2025--is when Marker really started coming together under saddle. In part this was due to me doing a lot of arena work on him, including basic schooling, focusing on getting his canter leads right but also doing a lot of lateral work such as two-tracking, shoulder-in, haunches-in, and so on. We also did a lot of pattern work and started doing the really fussy stuff involving sidepassing and backing through ground pole patterns. The fussy work didn't come along as well--that's a goal for 2026--but canter leads and lateral work showed progress.

Along with saddle work came a distinct improvement in ground manners. While old Mocha definitely played a role in ground manners--the old girl had very strong opinions about manners and was not afraid to tell Marker about an infringement of the Mocha Rules--after her death it somewhat seemed like he realized that he was the Only Horse and that he needed to step up to the plate, behaviorally. Of course, part of it is that he is very much a human-oriented horse and isn't very interested in sharing His People. He's become quite polite about his grain. Lately, when I bring him in from the field, if no one else is doing anything in the barnyard, I can toss the rope over his withers and tell him to "go to the rail." He stops at the edge of the mats (despite seeing the grain bucket right there--such a temptation!) to wait for a cookie, then turns his head away until I say "All yours now" and step back from the bucket.

That turning away of his head is definitely one of his coping mechanisms when there is something that is just so tempting but he can't touch it. Or play with it. He's done it when I've gotten after him for playing with the grooming caddy.

But it's also clear that he is a horse with Big Emotions, and while he's made significant strides in emotional self-regulation, he still has things to work out when it comes to his emotional expressions, especially in a herd setting. However, he's a horse who understands a lot of human words, or at least human vocal tones. "Good boy" has a small positive response from him, and "bad boy!" elicits a droopy, sorrowful expression. I haven't had to use it much lately. We'll see what happens in springtime, though.

These days, he's 95% at giving me the correct canter lead when I ask for it, and I can usually figure out reasons for why he doesn't always get that correct lead (usually due to soreness or I didn't set him up right). There's very little of the switching leads when he gets tired. Part of that is due to conditioning. Some horses need a lot of conditioning time to get a nice smooth canter, or to hold a particular lead. Gaited horses like Marker also have some different wiring as to whether they can pick up a proper canter from whatever their intermediate gait is, whether that's singlefoot, running walk, or fox trot like Marker does. Time and conditioning work wonders in that situation--something I learned from Mocha, who took a year from purchase time to getting a canter in the arena that didn't scare the other riders (or me! She went all over the place with a rider). But in Mocha's case, she'd been on a long layoff due to a tongue injury, and once we went through the initial conditioning phase her canter was always pretty good--I learned the value of taking time for conditioning from her.

Marker now has a nice, relaxed, rocking horse canter on his left lead. It's very smooth, slow, and on a slack rein--basically, the weight of a latigo leather rein on a loose ring snaffle. We're getting there on the right lead--he strained his left hind this fall, which is the driver of a good right lead canter. Right lead has somewhat been a challenge at times because that's the one where he's most likely to swap leads when he starts feeling tired or sore. So...since we're in the field for the winter, it's lots of straight line canter work for a distance. And it's coming along--I can now sit that canter instead of needing to go into a half-seat so he can move freely underneath me. It's no longer as rushed as it was. We have moments where it feels like the left lead, and those are happening more often.

I spend winters riding and schooling in the field. It's a throwback to my youth, where I had no access or means of transport to an indoor arena, so I rode a lot in a swampy field. One advantage of field riding is that if the field is big enough, you can do that straight line work to build strength. And Marker, unlike Mocha, has no problems negotiating diagonals across the field due to footing. We do a lot of fox trot work to improve his ability to gait on rough footing. Boy also likes his fox trot--he will happily zone out while fox trotting along, moving nice and relaxed in light collection.

Winter goals right now are to make that right lead as smooth and relaxed as the left lead. Which just takes time and practice. Then there's the fox trot on rough footing. More than that has to wait until we can get into the arena--more pattern work, and work over ground poles that includes learning to relax when sidepassing and turning over a pole corner. I also have to figure out his sweet spot--his turning radius differs from Mocha's, because she could turn a lot faster and smoother on her haunches than he can. Other things he needs to work on include being able to work calmly around a lot of other horses. That has to wait until summer and local horse events. I'm doing some of it now by riding him in and around the herd. And being calm when there's a lot of chaos going on around him. He's pretty good at it around the barn, but he needs to develop that skill elsewhere. It's just a matter of time and exposure.

Another winter goal is working on reducing the strength of my cues. Which--he's pretty responsive to turning from a weighted seat bone, even if he isn't rounding up as much as I would like when working in serpentines. That's a mutual goal because I have to maintain the strength to cue softly. He also is responsive to me turning my head along with a weighted outside seatbone. Could I take him bridleless? Possibly--more likely than I ever could do with Mocha. But we have some work to get there. In the meantime, we're working on softer, softer cueing. Which, again, falls back on me as well.

One biggie for me is working on getting my legs back and not leaning forward as much as I can do when going into canter. I'm also planning to spend time working on bareback riding--I'd like to be able to canter Marker in the arena while riding bareback. That's important for my core strength and balance. I'd like to find a reasonably priced dressage saddle that can fit the boy's round barrel because that will help me as well. But until then, working bareback will be a big help on the core strength and balance front (I also do weight work off of the horse, too).

Overall, he's definitely not a show horse type, at least from what he's shown me so far. But taking him to local shows also helps him acquire that emotional self-regulation he needs to develop in strange settings (the standout from his first show last summer involved him screaming in my ear--literally, nose right there--as well as deciding partway through the under saddle class that he was done and pitching a temper tantrum because he wanted to go out of the gate on the other side of the arena and GET AWAY FROM ALL THIS STUFF NOW). He's also a pretty darn nice and steady road riding mount, with a few exceptions (YAKS!!! Bicycles! EBIKES!!!). Which--I also want to work on.

All in all, he's coming along nicely and is a good safe mount for a skilled senior rider. When I look back at my Mocha training notes, I notice that not only is he coming along faster, it's with much fewer problems. Old mare had her opinions. Sometimes they didn't match mine as a trainer--and she had no qualms about bucking in her young years. He's less likely to argue with me, and wants to please. Some of this is the difference between a mare and a gelding--but another is the difference in temperaments. I've ridden geldings with strong opinions, too.

So yeah. The boy and I are going nicely into 2026. We'll see what it brings.


Sunday, January 4th, 2026 05:58 pm
The ceiling fire alarm went off again at another inconvenient time. I got out the ladder and then got my glasses so I could read on how to shut it off. I tried and tried. I got 'flop sweat' and the thing wouldn't shut off. Finally I got a couple of screwdrivers out and just had at it. The other alarm units had batteries to replace, easily done. This one is electrically attached by wires. I even tried shutting the main off and still, horrible beeping. There was some sort of secondary battery. I ripped the plastic off with the screwdriver and got the thing loose from the ceiling.

Was the story over? Youtube said to push the button to bleed the extra battery into silence. I thought I had and put the unit in a storage box. Yet, the next day, beeping! Beeping! Like it was being held prisoner and yelling for release. Or like Frankenstein's monster suddenly come alive.

I pried the casing apart into pieces. No more button attached to push. Pieces. And put it in the trash. Where it has remained silent.
Tags:
Sunday, January 4th, 2026 05:22 pm
I would like to show you a thing [personal profile] mildred_of_midgard, [personal profile] selenak, and I have been working on! Two things :D Two covers of Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire," 18th-century versions!

Chronological, Prussian-centric version:



Non-chronological, Euro-centric (but not quite as Prussian-centric) one:



These were inspired by the Hildegard von Blingin' medieval/Renaissance cover that came out a year and a half ago. Clearly this was not something salon could let stand without trying to produce its own 18th-century version. (In fact, [personal profile] selenak posted about it on her DW and within twenty-four hours I was reading not one but TWO first drafts, one written by [personal profile] selenak and the other by [personal profile] mildred_of_midgard!)

So then we were committed to putting this thing together. It obviously took a while from there (quite a lot of that gap was unfortunately due to me, as I had limited times that I could record properly, and it took me a while to figure out the best way to do it -- the last time I did something even faintly like this was in grad school). [personal profile] mildred_of_midgard is the real MVP in terms of doing all the video/video-audio syncing, which was a LOT. Also: I apologize abjectly for pronunciation, which has never been my strength even in English, let alone anything else. But I hope you enjoy anyway! (And of course if you have any questions as to what any of the lines refer to, feel free to ask here or there and someone will answer! :D )
Sunday, January 4th, 2026 08:17 pm
Title:In a Grain of Sand
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: PG
Length: 392
Content notes: My sweethearts
Author notes: The beach trip takes place just before Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
Summary: Steve remembers Natasha.

In A Grain of Sand )