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Archive for the ‘Biography’ Category

Diary #795

Because if I don’t say it, most of y’all probably will by the end of this column: Louie is really making a pig out of himself.  Every year, once the apples start dropping from the trees, both pigs visit the trees at least once a day to, well, pig out.  But this year, Louie has practically camped out there; by the time I show my face roughly two hours after dawn, he’s already gobbling, and even when he takes a break he mostly just naps in place or very nearby.  He eats so much I don’t even bother to make him dinner right now because he isn’t interested; by the time the sun is approaching the horizon he’s already snoozing in the stable.  I’ve even seen him fall asleep while on his way somewhere; he just suddenly stops waddling and sinks to the ground, and within a few minutes he’s snoring.  Loudly.  Twice he’s managed to constipate himself, and let me tell you he does not like the taste of mineral oil (not that I blame him).  Right now I start getting the giggles every time I need to interact with him; pigs are always comical creatures to me, but there’s something extra funny about a constipated, narcoleptic pig, as long as both are temporary conditions (as I assume they will be).

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Who thought of this?  –  Brent Chapman

Everybody knows Popeye, but did you know he was introduced to the screen (he first appeared in the “Thimble Theater” comic strip in 1929) in a 1933 Betty Boop cartoon?  By the end of the following year he had already replaced Betty as the Fleischer Studio’s biggest star.  The links above the video were provided by Carol Fenton, Mike Siegel, Phoenix Calida, Ryan Marino, IncarcerNation, The Onion, and T. Greg Doucette, in that order.

From the Archives

I find paywalls distasteful, and so many people find this blog valuable as a resource I just can’t bring myself to install one.  Furthermore, I find ad delivery services (whose content I have no say over) even more distasteful.  But as I’m now semi-retired from sex work, I can’t self-sponsor this blog by myself any longer.  So if you value my writing enough that you would pay to see it if it were paywalled, please consider subscribing; there are four different levels to fit all budgets.  Or if that doesn’t work for you, please consider showing your generosity with a one-time donation; you can Paypal to maggiemcneill@earthlink.net or else email me at the same address to make other arrangements.  Thanks so much!

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Diary #794

It’s a good thing I don’t get emotionally attached to poultry, because we haven’t had a good year for them.  I’m guessing it’s bird flu; we lost one of the red hens in July, then the turkey on the 1st, then one of the young white hens on the 10th.  They always go the same way: they’re extremely sluggish and keeping to themselves one day, then the next day I find them dead, away from the others and facing into a corner.  I am guessing the behavior is an instinctive one, designed by evolution to keep the disease from spreading to other members of the flock.  Once I discover the dead bird, I put on gloves and remove it immediately.  I am guessing they’re getting it from wild birds that land in the coop; I recently found a dead Steller’s jay not far from there.  So far it looks like isolated cases of infection rather than a full-blown poultry epidemic, but I’m keeping my eyes on them, and I sincerely hope we’ve seen the last of it because I really don’t want to have to deal with figuring out how to vaccinate them when the vaccine isn’t readily available in the US.

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I’m finally almost finished with “Until the End of Days“.  I finished the rough draft late last week, and on Sunday I wrote the prologue; it may seem strange to non-writers that I saved the prologue for the end of the process, but it was necessary because the story is told in first-person, and I wanted to know everything that happened in the tale (which grew in the telling) before I tried to introduce it.  Part of the reason was practical; if there were any important details I had not managed to fit into the narrative, I wanted to mention them in the prologue.  But another reason was that I wanted to be able to identify as fully with the POV character as possible, since I wanted the tone of the prologue to be more personal.  The word count is now in the vicinity of 19,000 words, and I still have a bit of editing to do, (such as describing three major characters more fully), so I think it’s fair to call it a novella.  I’ve really worked at developing the characters’ world, so much so that I already have the fragments of two prequels and a sequel in my head, and that’s good because spending so much time in that fictional world of the past makes the pain of my real-world present much easier to bear.  The irony is almost too perfect: after spending most of my life living in a future which never came to pass, I now find comfort living in a past that never was.

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Diary #792

While I keep very close track of the traditional holidays, I tend to ignore the civil holidays, so when someone says something about “the holiday” or “the long weekend” around Labor Day or Memorial Day or whatever, I often have to ask “What holiday?” because I honestly don’t remember.  So when Chekhov texted me late last week proposing he and Yellowbird come by on Sunday to spend the afternoon and grill some burgers, it did not at first occur to me that there was a holiday adjacent to that.  Not that it really mattered one way or the other; one nice thing about everyone in our little circle being retired is that we needn’t wait for permission to have a cookout.  I had two pie crusts left from making a batch of crust last week, so it was simplicity itself to walk outside, pick a bowl of plums, wash them, pit them, combine 5 cups of them them with 3/4 cup of brown sugar, 1/4 cup flour, 1/2 tsp allspice and 1/4 cup of apple cider, mix all that up and put it in the crust, and bake it at 375o for 50 minutes.  And boom, plum pie; there’s something extra-satisfying about a pie when the fruit was still on the tree 15 minutes before it went into the oven.  As I’ve said before, presentation isn’t my strong point; I probably put just a little too much fruit in, and the crust broke where it boiled out.  But what it lacked in looks, it made up for in taste.

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Diary #791

Unfortunately, the lighting strips we used in the atrium were not very durable, so the process of arranging and rearranging them eventually wore their internal connections down, resulting in entire sections going dark and other sections becoming very limited in their color selections.  That meant we used them less often and were less happy with them when we did.  After a while, this annoyed Jae sufficiently that she bought some more of them, and has been bugging me to put them up since spring.  Well, I finally decided to do so on Friday, using a simpler pattern than last time and being careful not to damage the strips.  So here’s what they look like now, which I fully admit is much better than they’ve looked in quite a while; I just wish it weren’t so difficult to get myself motivated to do this sort of task nowadays.

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Everything that becomes big attracts the attention of lots of people, some of whom see Satan and demons everywhere.  –  Joseph Uscinski

Another influential Louisiana musician is gone, and here’s his biggest hit as a sendoff.  The links above the video were provided by Jesse WalkerDan Savage; IncarcerNation (x3); Mike Stabile; and Reason, in that order.

From the Archives

I find paywalls distasteful, and so many people find this blog valuable as a resource I just can’t bring myself to install one.  Furthermore, I find ad delivery services (whose content I have no say over) even more distasteful.  But as I’m now semi-retired from sex work, I can’t self-sponsor this blog by myself any longer.  So if you value my writing enough that you would pay to see it if it were paywalled, please consider subscribing; there are four different levels to fit all budgets.  Or if that doesn’t work for you, please consider showing your generosity with a one-time donation; you can Paypal to maggiemcneill@earthlink.net or else email me at the same address to make other arrangements.  Thanks so much!

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Diary #790

Early last week, Chekhov was available to help me expand the chicken coop and replace the roof of the henhouse.  Given that I’ve been putting the latter chore off for several years now despite the fact that it probably should’ve been done the first year we were here, I accepted the help despite the fact that the three days it took were also the three hottest of the year.  But now it’s done; despite fairly constant rain from Thursday to Saturday, the inside of the henhouse stayed nice and dry, and as you can see the flock is enjoying being able to hunt for bugs in the grass they can now get to.  As you can also see, our turkey turned out to be a tom rather than a hen; turkey chicks aren’t routinely sexed, so we had no idea what we had until he developed those distinctive head features and started displaying his tail.  I’m not sure what Yellowbird will want to do with him, but the experience has led me to wonder if there’s a butcher hereabouts who’d pay enough for small flocks of turkeys to make the investment in time, money, and effort worthwhile.  But in any case, it won’t be long before those four white pullets are laying full-sized eggs, which is why I keep them in the first place!

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I am a biohazard.  –  Meghan Reinertsen

I’m still working on “Until the End of Days“; it’s up to 12,000 words now, into the novelette range, and I’m really enjoying the process.  This week’s video is the song I hear playing during the last scene, when our heroines have defeated the baddies and are unwinding in front of the big console radio at home.  If you listen to it, I think you’ll get a taste of the tone I’m going for.  The links above it were provided by Kevin Wilson, Ryan Marino, IncarcerNation (x2), Marc Randazza (x2), and Eleanor Janega, in that order.

From the Archives

I find paywalls distasteful, and so many people find this blog valuable as a resource I just can’t bring myself to install one.  Furthermore, I find ad delivery services (whose content I have no say over) even more distasteful.  But as I’m now semi-retired from sex work, I can’t self-sponsor this blog by myself any longer.  So if you value my writing enough that you would pay to see it if it were paywalled, please consider subscribing; there are four different levels to fit all budgets.  Or if that doesn’t work for you, please consider showing your generosity with a one-time donation; you can Paypal to maggiemcneill@earthlink.net or else email me at the same address to make other arrangements.  Thanks so much!

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Diary #789

Since my budget is much tighter these days (due to the one-two punch of lower income and tariff-driven inflation), it’s very difficult for me to justify extras like expensive perfume.  So it really brightened my day recently when one of my generous gentlemen sent me a bottle of my favorite perfume from my Amazon wishlist, saying that he hoped it would help lift my spirits.  Grace always used to insist that I do things (such as getting my nails done or my hair colored) that make me feel more attractive, but since she’s been gone I don’t have that voice any more, and have started feeling guilty about such expenditures during lean times.  So it’s really lovely when my readers step up to tell me that it really is OK to be a little bit frivolous, and obviating the problem by making the choice for me.

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