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Another season is on her way
Internet! We still don't have it! In order to remain employed, I have fled to the wireless-friendly environs of Hall Ave., leaving ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derspatchel to await the dubious mercies of Comcast. [edit: Never mind, we just found out that our modem shipped today. "Your order should arrive within 3–5 business days." I guess I have an office job for the rest of this week. For "office," read "other people's houses." I am not thrilled.] I am now attempting to catch up on work and e-mail. Although not simultaneously, because see above about employment.
The concert went well. I didn't expect it to. The migraine lasted all Saturday into Sunday afternoon, meaning that I went into a performance situation on functionally no sleep and a great deal of pain and unconvinced that I would be able to sing in anything more than the most mechanical of senses. I'm sure that if I hear a recording I will crash immediately back into suicidal despondency over the tone and the phrasing and all the technical failings, but right now I am very pleased with how it went—it's nice that people came up afterward and said complimentary things to me, but it was nicer that I left the stage knowing what had worked. And then I was in the deep green velvet dress I hadn't worn since my brother's wedding and Rob was out of his readthrough, so we met at the house and he put on his black velvet jacket and we went to Cuchi Cuchi for dinner, to celebrate moving and surviving and owning velvet things. A cocktail made of muddled sage, rosemary, gin, elderflower liqueur, and pomegranate is quite possibly my platonic ideal of a drink with fruit in.
I hope we remembered to drink to Lou Reed. There are people who become part of the landscape of their art; he was one of them. It's not even that you need to have collected all their records, or known all their songs. They die and all of a sudden a piece of the sky is visible. Wasn't there just a mountain there? A tree?
The first piece of mail for us at our new address arrived this afternoon. It was payment for a story of mine. We're taking it as a good omen.
Life is in boxes and garbage bags, but it is moving forward.
derspatchel to await the dubious mercies of Comcast. [edit: Never mind, we just found out that our modem shipped today. "Your order should arrive within 3–5 business days." I guess I have an office job for the rest of this week. For "office," read "other people's houses." I am not thrilled.] I am now attempting to catch up on work and e-mail. Although not simultaneously, because see above about employment.The concert went well. I didn't expect it to. The migraine lasted all Saturday into Sunday afternoon, meaning that I went into a performance situation on functionally no sleep and a great deal of pain and unconvinced that I would be able to sing in anything more than the most mechanical of senses. I'm sure that if I hear a recording I will crash immediately back into suicidal despondency over the tone and the phrasing and all the technical failings, but right now I am very pleased with how it went—it's nice that people came up afterward and said complimentary things to me, but it was nicer that I left the stage knowing what had worked. And then I was in the deep green velvet dress I hadn't worn since my brother's wedding and Rob was out of his readthrough, so we met at the house and he put on his black velvet jacket and we went to Cuchi Cuchi for dinner, to celebrate moving and surviving and owning velvet things. A cocktail made of muddled sage, rosemary, gin, elderflower liqueur, and pomegranate is quite possibly my platonic ideal of a drink with fruit in.
I hope we remembered to drink to Lou Reed. There are people who become part of the landscape of their art; he was one of them. It's not even that you need to have collected all their records, or known all their songs. They die and all of a sudden a piece of the sky is visible. Wasn't there just a mountain there? A tree?
The first piece of mail for us at our new address arrived this afternoon. It was payment for a story of mine. We're taking it as a good omen.
Life is in boxes and garbage bags, but it is moving forward.
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Also, it was an excellent dress.
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Thank you. I am genuinely, non-Tiny Wittgenstein happy to know that performance adrenaline is still a thing my body can use.
I hadn't even remembered I owned the dress. I like it.
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I'm glad the concert went well.
The first piece of mail for us at our new address arrived this afternoon. It was payment for a story of mine. We're taking it as a good omen.
Excellent. I wish you many more.
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Thank you.
Belatedly, Comcast cooperated!
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The offer is appreciated, but we have internet at our house at last! (We're still figuring out the cable. Is all right. Not having to work away from home is helping me immensely, and I think Rob's eyesight appreciates not having to read all his e-mail off his phone.)
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Thank you. I am working on both.
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Nine
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Thank you!
I do hope it portends more. Of everything. (Except late internet service.)
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sage, rosemary, gin, elderflower liqueur, and pomegranate, eh? It doesn't get better for the season, I think!
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We've talked about framing the envelope!
sage, rosemary, gin, elderflower liqueur, and pomegranate, eh? It doesn't get better for the season, I think!
They call it a Hoochie Cuchi, but I plan to order it often.
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That is a terribly disappointing name -_-
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I mean, I almost ordered the Be Bop a Diva You're My Baby; I was dissuaded by the server, who confirmed that it was a sweet drink. Dancing with Ginger and Earth Angel Be Mine are both very good.
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Glad the concert went well and sorry it was such an ordeal fighting your body to make it go well.
And yay for multiple opportunities to wear velvet!
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Can do! Thank you!
And yay for multiple opportunities to wear velvet!
We take them where we find them and we make them where we don't.
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A cocktail made of muddled sage, rosemary, gin, elderflower liqueur, and pomegranate is quite possibly my platonic ideal of a drink with fruit in.
That sounds delicious. I think we may have found the place where our taste in drinks coincides. I am now picturing the Venn diagram that goes with that.
I hope your headache goes away and loses your address.
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Oh, yeah? What's the overlap?
I hope your headache goes away and loses your address.
I think it passed its ignorance on to Comcast, but fortunately we managed to retrieve the internet while not attracting the attention of the migraine.
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Internet! That's a good sign. *loans you the cloak of invisibility to get you through the rest of utility set-up and nesting without attracting the migraine again*
Oh, yeah? What's the overlap?
Elderflower and pomegranate are a good place to start. I like fruit cordials, though I can't have all of them anymore, though wine did recently get reintroduced.
I like anything that involves chocolate or coffee, but cream gets avoided unless it comes from a nut source, but given almond based milk I do like Brandy Alexander and White Russians. I am currently off rum, pending further investigation into its place in the long-chain-oligosaccharide family.
Much of our taste in actual alcohols (not mixers) seems to overlap, except for absinthe, since I have this licorice aversion. I blame Licorice Allsorts, which were popular in my childhood. Bright color and all one flavor made me cranky and my tastebuds still hold a grudge.
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I shall write you a letter soon.
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Thank you!
(And you can back off on the stabbing; Comcast delivered our requisite boxes today. Which is just as well for all our friends we don't want arrested for committing mayhem on our behalf.)
I shall write you a letter soon.
Looking forward.