September 8th, 2003

running, bomb tech

Happy Loony

This happy Lunatic is dipping chocolates well past midnight.

I got some caramels at the grocery store, because I'd been craving more chocolate-dipped caramels. Mmmm.
running, bomb tech

I don't want the world; I just want your half.

Making great strides in the cleaning of a certain room tonight. I got myself a beanbag chair (I've been wanting one for ages, and they were on sale when I went to get myself the caramels to dip in chocolate) and I discovered that I had nowhere to set it, my room being not exactly a pigsty, lacking the mud and muck, and not even a trash heap, lacking much of the garbage, but definitely something disorderly and disreputable, wanting correction.

To this end, I've placed certain items in my new plastic crate-things -- one has gotten my crocheting, and another has gained my schoolbooks, so they'll have a place to live when they're not in my backpack as they belong to be.

I must dig out more shorts from the Box of New Black Clothing, as it has come to my attention that all of the oldest of the shorts that I wear under skirts have disintegrated (being perhaps five years old) and I have only three left.

I may not have explicitly mentioned it before, but I am the kind of obsessive detail-oriented obsessively detail-oriented romantic sop who will observe that even though you have declared that you dislike chocolate, you have admitted to liking almond Hershey kisses, and keep some on hand in her desk drawer, Just In Case.

Wow. I see floor. Tomorrow, I suppose, will involve putting away of laundry, and finding a place for that unsuspecting stack of papers, books, and notebooks, and same for those two boxes of assorted Junque.

Why is "Runaround", from the Dave Matthews Band [edit: this is evidently a rare cover of the Blues Traveler song, existing only inside my head], stuck in my head?

Today, I noticed that I seem to get hiccups accompanied by a sour stomach, and when I take something for the sour stomach, the hiccups likewise go away. I'll have to observe more on this pattern. Also, watermelon contributes to sour stomach, for whatever ungodsly reason.
running, bomb tech

Name change

Have changed name on LJ from "A Metaphor Gone Metastatic (fair and balanced my ass)" to "Windstorm of Starlight".
running, bomb tech

Note to cat:

Dear eris_raven,

Being a cat, you may not be familiar with the physical guideline that suggests that only one object may occupy a given amount of space at one time. Being a cat, though, you should be familiar with what happens when us two-legged folk are walking -- namely, our legs move, and we move in a direction, often forward. Thus, this morning, when you attempted to occupy the same space as my leg and the empty bucket of dishwasher detergent, you did get a little squished between them instead of co-existing in harmony. And that squishing did cause you to yowl in surprise.

Perhaps next time, my dear fluffy friend, you might wish to brush up on the physics of this plane, so you'll know when to get out of the way, like if someone is walking, or someone is sitting down on the bed that you have claimed as yours?

azurelunatic, aka "Mommy"
Little Fayoumis, Nephew

Smart Fayoumis!

I got homework duty today, since Marx was too fried after the first few papers. We had one trip to the corner, when he was fooling around and not working like he was supposed to; that was early in the afternoon. There were a few tears, but he got back on task. That was for the first worksheet.

There was a bit of angst over the second one, where he'd forgotten what the pattern was that he was supposed to color the ants. He elected to make up his own. Midway through that, since he was being well-behaved, I gave him one of my chocolate truffles, which surprised him. He continued to be good.

The third worksheet was math, simple addition, twos. We had one frustration point on the math (the number two was hard to write, so we put the worksheet aside and worked on the number for a while) and one utter meltdown, the frustration at not knowing it. He cried on my shoulder, and I hugged him and told him about how I cried about different things, and got hugs and encouragement from Darkside. (See? You're not alone. Everybody gets frustrated about stuff, just different stuff.) We took a break, and did some other math/counting fun stuff (how many fingers, how many toes, how many fingers plus toes, some rote reciting of the addition tables up to 3+10). That broke down when we started counting other things, like cat plus cat equals two cats, and wound up with a "I'd never thought you'd say that!" plus howling on the floor screaming with laughter when I posed the problem, "What's one toilet plus one toilet plus one big smelly fart?" (It's two toilets and a big smelly fart.)

The math was still frustrating after that, so we broke for dinner. He'd requested ramen noodles, so those were part of supper. (Amazing, generational differences, caused by different financial situations -- his mother can't stand them, but they're a rare treat for him...) We talked about what babies know, and what bigger kids know. Babies know how to drink milk, cry, sleep, and poop and pee in their diapers. A baby doesn't even know how to say "I'm hungry" -- the baby cries. A baby doesn't even know how to burp by itself!

Then we had knock-knock jokes. He's not quite grasped wordplay, for use himself, but he thought that these two (mine) were funny:

Knock knock!
Who's there?
Mr. Toy.
Mr. Toy who?
Mr. Toilet!!

Knock knock!
Who's there?
Snot who?
'snot the bad guys, it's me!

After supper, more math. I provided beads for counting objects, and that worked very well. He went on to the fourth paper, which involved checking the given equations to make sure they were correct. He x-ed out the incorrect ones, and colored or circled the ones that were correct. Now he's cutting out the basket and the apples (the equations are on the apples, you see) and will be gluing them were appropriate.

All of this, with only minimal whining.

Did I mention that he's a great kid, when he's behaving himself?
running, bomb tech

Packing List

Yep, I'm a bit obsessive. I'm some weird combo of Orderly Chaotic, which is just screwy, because I make lists for some of the weirdest things, and then I go shopping completely without a list, going all over the place as items occur to me. People fear doing things with me because of this. I am more random than a bubble sort.

That being said...

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high energy magic

Tools of the Trade

Been talking about various ways of mindmapping tonight, including such things as listing interests, listing the things that worry one, listing the things that one is worried over, and is upset with self for being worried over, listing interests and what is being done to be interested in those interests, thinking about dream-logic vs. waking logic, mapping out which things in one's life are dream-logic, which ones are waking-logic.

The differences between writers, mages, and the insane. The differences between a useful dream, and something nifty that you'll never use.

Mapping the mind. I feel like an AI sometimes, but that's sometimes what is needed. Echo. Bounceback. Confirmation that someone else is alive and listening...
high energy magic

Randomly: candles

Lit a round peach candle from Black Market Minerals last night. Burned out sometime this evening. Notable thing: when I drained the wax when it was threatening to overwhelm the flame, the spills formed what looks eerily like the Yellow Sign, only it's orange.
running, bomb tech

Chemical thoughts...

What could be used to bind salt in soil into a form less detrimental to the plants trying to grow there? Could it be safe?

*visions of Zodiac moulder in my head*