Not a bad weekend, all told.
Jan. 9th, 2006 12:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysobelleYesterday, I babysat for my niece. Henna, your wings are miracle workers. She loved them so much that they, plus the wonders of my digital camera, completely did away with the usual screaming and hysteria that normally ensues when MommyDaddy leave. Glory!
Bedtime was almost painless, though she did stop brushing her teeth for a moment and just stare at me in the mirror with an odd, intent look. She never said what that was about. Hm. I wonder what thoughts go through her not-quite-three brain?
She did, of course, start crying and carrying on when it came time to lie down in her crib and go to sleep. She wanted to play. She wanted to sit up. She wanted another book. She wanted me to go away. She wanted me to sit in the dark with her. She wanted me to stop rocking in the rocking chair. You'd think this would've dissuaded me from the melancholy thoughts that made me cry there, but no. Alas. Eventually, however, I told her I had to go to the bathroom, but I'd be right back. Of course, once I was out, she was out like a light. I stood outside her door and called gently that I was going downstairs. Nothing. Whee! And that was only an hour and a half past her normal bedtime. Sigh. At least the lights were out by 9, even if it took her an hour to go to sleep.
I didn't get home til 1, unfortunately, which means I missed Shok's going-away at Tat Mom's. So once again, I've missed Shok entirely. Dammit. We keep saying we're going to catch up, and it just never happens. Gah.
Once at home, I started thinking about my set-up for the Wicked Faire. I started looking online for display racks, and saw something on eBay which fired my imagination. I came up with a truly wretched sketch (For this you went to art school?) of something that would be easy to set up and take down, and include a changing area. I talked about it a while this afternoon with Lars-- he had a whole new set of ideas, and I think I may hybridise the whole shebang. We also talked about weaponry: I'm designing an edged weapon-- not quite a sword, staff, or mace alone, but all three-- and we talked about fighting styles and terrain and other yummies. Note to self: if you think your ideas are silly, everyone else will, too. If you think they're not, you won't care if other people do. I need to stop inwardly apologising for wanting to write a fantasy novel. I LIKE fantasy novels, and I think they can be done thrillingly well.
Still had bad dreams, though, when at last I fell asleep. But I slept late, at least. Emily and Julian came over. We sent Julian to Jim's for cheesesteaks, and for a while worried we'd never see him again. We watched West Wing, which I haven't watched all season-- I cried again at the loss of John Spencer. Dammit. What a waste. And how chilling to hear him talk about how excellent medical care saved him after a massive heart attack. Dammit. Afterwards, we switched to Firefly, and I started a fitting with Em for an entirely new style of corset. I'm rather excited about it. I've never done a true Victorian-- this one's about 1844. It'll have some straight steel in the front, perhaps, but everything else will be spirals. Woot! I spent about 45 minutes looking for a pattern to match the corset she chose from Nora Waugh's "Corsets & Crinolines" before I gave up and said, "Dammit, I'll just have to draft it from the drawing." Emily gave me a you-moron look and said, "Well, I thought that was what you were going to do in the first place." Um. Yeah. Yay! Right! Of course!
Oh, me of little faith!
Star conversation of the weekend:
"...oh, if that's what you think? Oh, yeah, buddy, you're going down! You're going down!--"
"If you're lucky."
"...*"
Bedtime was almost painless, though she did stop brushing her teeth for a moment and just stare at me in the mirror with an odd, intent look. She never said what that was about. Hm. I wonder what thoughts go through her not-quite-three brain?
She did, of course, start crying and carrying on when it came time to lie down in her crib and go to sleep. She wanted to play. She wanted to sit up. She wanted another book. She wanted me to go away. She wanted me to sit in the dark with her. She wanted me to stop rocking in the rocking chair. You'd think this would've dissuaded me from the melancholy thoughts that made me cry there, but no. Alas. Eventually, however, I told her I had to go to the bathroom, but I'd be right back. Of course, once I was out, she was out like a light. I stood outside her door and called gently that I was going downstairs. Nothing. Whee! And that was only an hour and a half past her normal bedtime. Sigh. At least the lights were out by 9, even if it took her an hour to go to sleep.
I didn't get home til 1, unfortunately, which means I missed Shok's going-away at Tat Mom's. So once again, I've missed Shok entirely. Dammit. We keep saying we're going to catch up, and it just never happens. Gah.
Once at home, I started thinking about my set-up for the Wicked Faire. I started looking online for display racks, and saw something on eBay which fired my imagination. I came up with a truly wretched sketch (For this you went to art school?) of something that would be easy to set up and take down, and include a changing area. I talked about it a while this afternoon with Lars-- he had a whole new set of ideas, and I think I may hybridise the whole shebang. We also talked about weaponry: I'm designing an edged weapon-- not quite a sword, staff, or mace alone, but all three-- and we talked about fighting styles and terrain and other yummies. Note to self: if you think your ideas are silly, everyone else will, too. If you think they're not, you won't care if other people do. I need to stop inwardly apologising for wanting to write a fantasy novel. I LIKE fantasy novels, and I think they can be done thrillingly well.
Still had bad dreams, though, when at last I fell asleep. But I slept late, at least. Emily and Julian came over. We sent Julian to Jim's for cheesesteaks, and for a while worried we'd never see him again. We watched West Wing, which I haven't watched all season-- I cried again at the loss of John Spencer. Dammit. What a waste. And how chilling to hear him talk about how excellent medical care saved him after a massive heart attack. Dammit. Afterwards, we switched to Firefly, and I started a fitting with Em for an entirely new style of corset. I'm rather excited about it. I've never done a true Victorian-- this one's about 1844. It'll have some straight steel in the front, perhaps, but everything else will be spirals. Woot! I spent about 45 minutes looking for a pattern to match the corset she chose from Nora Waugh's "Corsets & Crinolines" before I gave up and said, "Dammit, I'll just have to draft it from the drawing." Emily gave me a you-moron look and said, "Well, I thought that was what you were going to do in the first place." Um. Yeah. Yay! Right! Of course!
Oh, me of little faith!
Star conversation of the weekend:
"...oh, if that's what you think? Oh, yeah, buddy, you're going down! You're going down!--"
"If you're lucky."
"...*"
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Amy - who is not so patiendly awaiting return of the wench boards....