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Month: June 2018

Best of Intentions

When I came home from work today, as I staggered in the door escaping the 100°+ heat and was met by the cat who must be greeted immediately or Bad Things Happen, the housemate called from her room, “Oh! You’re home. I…had intended to do the thing today.” She said this because I had asked her to do the thing today, as I reluctantly trudged out the door to work nine hours before. “I had the best of intentions!” she assured me. I laughed and asked, “What’s the name of that place, you know, the road is paved with intentions, but I forget…?” and we laughed and I went off to my room and sat down to do the thing that I’m supposed to do tonight at the latest–write a blog post for Turtleduck Press. And that, dear friends, is where my own intentions went astray, because instead of landing on Turtleduck Press, I got a 500 error. Well, blast. I’m not the girl who runs straight to tech support. I know my way around a cpanel, at least more than some. So off I went, looking for advice. Hadn’t touched any permissions or the .htaccess, not blinking likely too many processes were running but I checked anyway, error log blank (really?), so off I went to tech support after all. And as I sat waiting for the lovely tech support person* in the chat to check all the things I already checked, I jotted some notes about the blog…

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Gilmore Girls: My New Obsession

Back in May, I tweeted this: Why, you ask? What’s the big deal? Well, that’s the thing. It is a big deal. I totally missed it. It was never on my radar. I’d heard of it, and was curious, but never curious enough to you know, sit down and watch it. Of course, in my defense, those were the days when I was doing a lot of photography and writing. I didn’t really watch TV much. Except CSI. Because forensics. But I digress. If you’re not familiar with the awesomeness that is Gilmore Girls, let me give you a short primer: There’s this woman, Lorelai Gilmore and her daughter Rory (short for Lorelai). Lorelai got pregnant with Rory when she was sixteen. She was a single mother. Her parents are rich and into rich-people things, and basically feel she ruined her life by getting pregnant. And have no problem telling her that to her face. Lorelai and Rory live in Stars Hollow, a literal small town where you can walk everywhere and everyone knows everyone else. There are some cool and quirky characters: Luke, the perpetually grumpy owner of the diner where Lorelai and Rory go for breakfast (and coffee!) every day; there’s Taylor, who owns a supermarket and is mostly an ass; there’s Babette who lives in a house made for shorter people (who isn’t shorter herself) and is with a really tall man and has funerals for her dead pets; there’s Rory’s best friend Lane who is awesome…

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The More Things Change

I have an actual hometown. You know, the kind you see on TV, where it’s smallish and quaint and has weird tics that everyone who lives there knows about and just accepts as something that is something that you do. Or is. And it is an actual hometown for me, because I was born there and spent most of my childhood there, and because most of my family (sibling, parent, grandparent) still live there, and still live in the same houses. So it was formative in many ways. Now, some time after I left home for college (which was quite some time ago, but I’m not going to tell you exactly how much because it makes me feel old) my hometown decided it was going to reinvent itself. It’s always been kind of a weird relic of the Old West, despite having been absorbed by urban sprawl, but it was decided to, hm, modernize it, I suppose might be the right term. Tear down some of the old things that had been there forever and make new, modern versions of the same thing that was supposed to evoke the town’s history. Pretty up the historic things that were too valuable to replace. Urbanize the “downtown” area and make it the sort of place that young people with lots of money would want to hang out. You know, that sort of thing. I’ve watched it happen with mixed feelings, as I suppose most people do/would in the situation. Sure, that 3-story…

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Fear of Change

I’m staring down the barrel of some rather scary changes at my job (the job I do when I’m not writing or editing or doing other stuff for TDP, that is). First of all, I’m in the civil service, there’s an election this week, and we’re anticipating a change of government for the first time since I started working here. Second, my office is moving early next year, and our work environment is set to change rather dramatically. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t facing both of those things with fear and trepidation. I’ve gotten…if not always comfortable, at least used to the way things are now. I know what to expect. I know which direction to turn when I get off the elevator. I know what the current government’s priorities and positions are, and how those translate to my job. I can see the CN Tower from my cubicle. Did I mention I’ve been in the same job for, um, a while? And that I’m not great with change? But change there will be. I can be dragged towards it kicking and screaming, or I can face it with hope that eventually, somehow, something better will come of it. The former is awfully tempting, but the latter involves more grace and more self-kindness. If I hadn’t taken the plunge and quit my former job and moved to Toronto way back when, I wouldn’t be sitting here in this 95-year-old brick house that I love. If I hadn’t…

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1-800-HAUNTME

by Kit Campbell   Xavier had just connected when Amy burst in, blood staining his hands. “Quick! Do we have any more chickens?” Xavier held up one hand. “Spell out the following,” he instructed into his headset. “Do not seek what is not meant to be known.” A pause. “Yes, I know it’s long. No, I don’t feel like spelling out crushes tonight. Just do it, okay? Hold on.” He pulled the headset off his ears. “How can you be out of chickens already? I gave you five.” “Well, there’s not a lot of blood in a chicken.” Xavier rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Are you giving her her schedule again?” “No,” said Amy. “All right, yes. But in my defense, you should see her. She’s a mess. She’d never get to class on time if I didn’t remind her.” “Amy, darling, this is supposed to be a demonic possession. Blood oozing down the mirror spelling out threatening messages. You reminding her to get to her classes is not threatening. And what was it last month? A pick-me-up after a bad date?” “It’s still oozing in blood.” Xavier sighed. “Maybe I’ll give you paint,” he murmured. “Would the difference be obvious?” “Harder to clean,” Amy supplied helpfully. “Maybe a nice dry-erase marker—” Isham popped up from behind Xavier’s desk. “They exorcised me again.” “I am on a call here!” Xavier groaned and picked his headset back up. “Better transfer them to Hezekiah. I’ve got to deal with this. Thanks.”…

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