Grateful...

 ...to have been on the ground floor of a new obsession. I can't teach him anything but the basics. Thank goodness Jake is a patient teacher, the interaction wonderful to watch.

 

There were a lot of questions for Google because I never really played, just had an idea of how it was supposed to go. Play makes me tense and sweaty and I've lost five of six games most often because I forgot the Tiger lurks.

Rules, history, tradition. Culture. It's like visiting another planet.

Charlie Tuesday

 

Yeah. It took my breath away to see what he's going to look like as a young man. 

I have a lot of opinions about AI, not many of them good. I'm already seeing reader backlash against authors using AI to make book covers. Readers are making the assumption that what's going on inside those covers is also AI-generated and some pretty rank tripe. They are right.

As for image manipulation, I've been using computer graphics editors since you had to load your computer's operating system from five floppy discs.

In the 90s, I became a master of monkeying around with images using free programs that, with a little bit of hacking,  were every bit as good as the ones people paid hundreds of dollars for. (Does anyone remember warez and catching malware from going there? I do.) I still have a laptop that I keep for the sole purpose of running Paintbox 5 by Jasc.

The AI editing feature in Messenger, which I stumbled upon by accident, offered these enhancements to the pictures I took.

 I can draw the line there and not mess around with anyone else's images.

Change of scenery

 

This will be my first extended absence for these two. Colin will dole out extra love and attention.

The house is very quiet right now. Jake and Charlie are off to get his cast removed!

I've brought this and several others with me to work on fitting sleeves and backs. 

In a few cases, after many years, I'm changing the orientation completely. I can't decide if it's cheating somehow, but I'm happy with the choices.

After I return, there will be a new "cinema" wall painted in the living room, and I'll use it to take a bunch of new photos and update the gallery. 

Charlie and I played four blistering rounds of checkers last night. I went easy on him in the first game. In the second, scorched him. No quarter. He picked up on the limited strategies and beat me in the last two games fair and square. 

We both decided that learning Chess is going to be on our agenda this week.  I think that Rookie and Never Really Got the Hang of It are on par, skill-wise. 

The details

 One or two a day. Pressed, backed, and sleeved. Picked over for cat hairs and cooties. The mountain will be moved a teaspoon at a time.

We will not discuss that the fancy label is upside down as I reconsidered the orientation. 

Spirits call

 

Really, muse?

It's 1:30 in the morning. 

Was it the wierd dinner? (A big bowl of cantaloupe chunks, pomegranate arils, topped with broken gingerbread cookies)

Maybe saying goodbye to Littlefeather? My Singer Featherweight has been languishing too long. As part of my Reconnection project a perfect destination was revealed. We'll be at FedEx later today. 

(Open yourself to change. Come down from your walls. )

Maybe it was this. I finished Vigil today with the intention of letting it go (if chosen) to the show and beyond. 

This was the piece I worked on during Jim's last weeks. Sweetie here is gone now as well.

Today marks twelves years without Jim. I take comfort in the knowledge that I've still had more life with him than without him.

Restless, strong spirits remind me of the business of life. Push the Wheel. 

States of mind

 Some are deeply concerned. 

Others have no fucks left to give.

Confounding the auto-wankers

Using up mostly blank pages in an old notebook just to spite data scrapers.

The chaos continues.

Now that I have an idea of what the exhibit space is for the show in January I have to choose a very small handful of pieces to offer the curator of the show.

I've unrolled a couple of these and thought, "What the fuck was she thinking?"

 And a few others have lifted my spirits and flown me away.

This is my Swedish Ivy, unhappy about having to come inside now that winter is here. 

 If I'm going to do this notebook thing on a regular basis I'm going to have to work on my penmanship. And I apologize. I just felt like annoying some data scraping program with an image that can't be parsed.

Full Moon

 "Instead of dinner, they might climb to the rooftop, hungry. Wine was poured, and various spirits were toasted. They lay on the mound of white, sun-warmed sand and conferred with the heavenly host. Stars and planets, and the names of the constellations they rode, were noted. He reached up and cupped the moon’s ass, captured it in his hand, and brought it down to her lips to be kissed, or perhaps bitten."

Slash & Burn (right now, I am suffering through a complete rewrite. Square One.)

The night was so soft and cozy that I decided against building a fire and just sat in the darkness, waiting for moonrise. I had forgotten how familiar the night is, how comfortable I am wrapped up in it. For my entire adult working life, I chose the night shift for many reasons. The night life was not always about the boogie. 

The great water oak in the front yard blocks a clear view, but this was enough. My tarot and I got a good dose, and the next morning, this view testified to the glory of the hours before the dawn.

With many, I am cautiously celebrating the blue wave taking shape, gaining strength. Keeping my warrior stance and attitude because there is so much damage to undo. Heads must roll. 

Cards speak

 Yesterday was my Mom's birthday. I don’t give her nearly enough credit. That creative Scorpio was wild at heart but had to operate in the social framework of her time. Before she was wife and mother, she was Rosie.

~○~

This was last night just before I went to bed. (Sigh) Yes, duty. Yes, Responsibility. Yes, I have Strength.  Can do. But.....

today, I'm taking the Four of Pentacles advice. Rest, recharge and bring a new perspective. Shit's gotta get writ.

It's supposed to hit 70s today. I'm out.

Halloween

 

Colin 1983

I've never paid for a Halloween costume. If I couldn't make it, you weren't wearing it. 

This was my mother's influence. One year she used Rit dye on our tired footy pajamas to turn me and my sisters into a litter of black cats complete with black velvet,  stuffed and wired tails and hoods with ears. Eyeliner penciled whiskers!

The last year that I went trick-or-treating (I was twelve or thirteen), I cobbled together a Gypsy Fortune Teller get-up that featured a thrift store embroidered peasant blouse that I was forbidden to wear to school ('cause boobs), a couple of full skirts layered, lots of makeup and half of my mother's costume jewelry. And sandals. I know I snuck out mostly mummified in a cardigan because Mom would have shit a brick over that blouse. She wasn't ready for teenagers.

There was a house party at a neighbor's up the street. You know the unpopular kid whose parents throw parties for him. We all went. 

When his mother was sick of our noise in the basement and it was time to go home, there was about four inches of snow on the ground. That was a long walk.

Jake 1983

The Bride of Frankenstein and The Mummy 1976

This year...

Gambit and Wolverine

And a Halloween hangover.