serinde: (ze fiber arts)
I have had occasion to burble before about my scattershot approach to historical clothing projects; I sit around and do nothing until there's a sudden need (Pennsic, someone's elevation, etc) and then I scramble around Making Stuff. This has problems:

1. It's so long in between spurts of activity (and I am not yet comfortable enough in the actual garment-making process for it to be automatic) that I end up expending 10x the skull sweat each time reinventing most of a wheel. And I get stressed out and have hysterics &c.

2. There's serious time pressures so I don't have leisure to plan it out as a proper re-creation. I go to war with the fabric and pattern and construction techniques that will get me in something that looks & feels pretty right and out the door on time. Now, there's nothing necessarily wrong with that, but I think I can move past having my entire wardrobe be of that mode. I would like to be able to say with confidence "this is an over-gown based on images from X place in Y decade" instead of "yep, sure is a Gothic fitted dress".

I'm currently making two gowns for Pennsic which are "yep, sure is a Gothic fitted dress", and that's fine because at least I shall have more than one outfit in my chosen time period this year. But I am taking the opportunity to plan out a dress (or pair of dresses, perhaps), which I shall document what I am doing and the choices I'm making, and then I will feel like I can reasonably run with the rest of the gang.

So here are the points I'm considering:

* Fabric choices. Wool, silk, or linen. Investigate weaves and specific colors (could be brocade/multicolor, potentially).
* Lining. At a first approximation, many finds seem to be unlined, but royal wardrobe accounts indicate lining in the upper classes (often fur, of course, for bling & warmth). I, of course, may need the extra layer to hold up my bQQbies. Research this further and make a choice.
* Seams & construction. There is ample documentation on how it was done, and I could do it all that way. But that's a powerful long time of hand stitching. Make a choice on whether to do the long seams by machine for speed and convenience.
* Silhouette/pattern. This includes things like neckline, sleeve length, skirt fullness, number of gores, all that goodness. We don't have lots of physical data to go on, and 14th c. art, unlike later centuries, is far less detailed. We are all making it up to greater or lesser extent, but I want to be able to defend my hypotheses.
* Fastenings. Lacing, or buttons? If buttons, metal or cloth? And why? Down the front, or under the arm? If long-sleeved, buttons there too?
* Ornamentation. We know hoods were blinged out, and so too girdles/belts. There's some evidence for sewing spangles to the actual gowns. There are images which seem to indicate embroidery on the garment (we saw gold tracery on some fellows in the Limbourg book of hours at the Met). What to do?

And I'm not going to say "this must be done for event X or Y". It will be ready when it's ready. Though if I am still working on it in three years, I should be kicked in the ass.

I have also, finally, ordered a copy of Gothic Woman's Fashion by Sronkova. About fucking time.
serinde: (self-control)
I still have not found a way to balance Doing Stuff with required downtime. The analogy I used to [ profile] sweh yesterday was, it's as if I'm one of those terrible drivers whose technique is a continual alternation between stomping on the gas and then slamming on the brakes, rather than maintaining a relatively consistent speed. And I feel not unlike a passenger of one of those drivers.

I've considered methods such as "every Thursday is at-home" or "no more than X days out per week" but I cannot seem to make this work. There's always something I absolutely cannot miss and the system breaks down. Moreover, by the time I do have a day or evening in, I'm usually so wiped I don't have the brain space to do at-home things like putter or steady-state cleaning or handwork. So I have to push those into a giant day of effort, which is then deeply exhausting and not "downtime" at all.

And thus, of course, I was about to volunteer to be Ostgardr seneschal. I AM A FLAMIN' IDIOT.
serinde: (brew-up)
So, a few developments for those who are not living in my brain.

1) I have a new job. My last day at Hunter was Friday, and I'm starting at Barnard on May 10th, where I will be Director of User Services (shut up). This is a big promotion-like thing, and I have moments of shrieking panic, but in my more rational moments I feel tolerably sure I can handle it. I also had the smart of giving myself some time between jobs, which I didn't really have last time 'round; I intended to spend it frolicking around in spring weather, except...

2) So that thing where I hurt my ankle at aikido and then some more in a mosh pit? It was feeling mostly better, so I kept going to class, and I kept going to yoga, and then it started to hurt somewhat when I walked, and then started hurting a lot when I walked, and I did the HMO referrals dance, and the referring ortho couldn't see me til July, and I went back and bibbled at Callen-Lorde's referral dept., and they sent me to the NYU walk-in clinic on Friday who tell me I have a chronic sprain because I haven't just let the stupid thing heal. So I have an air cast and crutches, and I'm supposed to keep off it as much as possible, and wear the (extremely ill-fitting) air cast when walking, and etc. I am coping with this with my usual grace and serenity: which is to say, hanging on by the skin of my teeth and being a whiny little bitch. I seem to have an enforced staycation, except the part where I still seem to be running around a lot. But I'm taking the bus whenever I can, and that's something, yes? In spite of the fact that some of the M66 drivers are rotten fucking people, to the point where one actually closed the doors in my face as I was about to put my foot on the step. (Some of the others are really nice, though, so I guess this evens out.)

3) I still have not hung my curtains. I faithfully swear that I shall call the landlady tomorrow and ask if we have a ladder. I have to change a light bulb anyways. Watch, I'll get them finally up and then hate how they look.

4) As far as I'm aware, we're all still supposed to put our plastic/glass recycling in clear plastic trash bags. So why do none of the stores around me sell 'em?

5) I'm having mental hysterics off-and-on that the progress I'd been making on the weight loss front will now be utterly destroyed by enforced inactivity. Because what can you do without a leg to stand on?

6) I went and asked a boy out, for a number of reasons, not least of which was to confirm that I was capable of doing so. I was ready for "yes", I was ready for "no"; I was not prepared for utter silence. The entire situation has led to numerous reflexions, including that my dating brain appears to be stuck at age 16.

7) I have Rock Band again, which makes me happy, except I really want to drum, but it's my right foot I hit the kick drum with, and that will just not do; and I prefer bass over guitar, but you can't have a solo career as a bassist (tell that to Lemmy, jerkweeds).

8) In spite of all of these bees, I'm doing pretty okay.
serinde: (domestic)
(I think just about everyone here is on teh facebookz too, but in case you're not: Yo! I am having a housewarming on Saturday! Come any time after noon!)

So after much greater mental labor than is quite right--I've gotten lazy from having a house with a grill where it was just a matter of laying in burgers, buns, and beer--I think I know what snax shall be passed at various points in the afternoon/evening:

* gougères (I have Artisanal's recipe!)
* crab dip (w/crackers)
* chili cheese dip (w/chips and fresh veg)
* bleu cheese dip (same)
* spiced nuts
* ginger chicken salad (cold, on baguette slices)
* shrimp salad (broiled, on baguette slices)
* rosemary loaf cake
* walnut cookies
* burnt-butter cupcakes (those with which I won the coveted Gold Cupcake award at [ profile] erinfinnegan's birthday competition last year)

Because I shall be entertaining from noon til midnight, in theory, it occurs to me I should prepare some easily-dished up lunch for myself too. I'm just dithering about what. My inner crazy person wants to make the picnic fried drumsticks I tried a couple years ago, which were really good cold, but they are labor intensive. Dither dither dither.

I concocted this list and realized that anyone who cannot tolerate dairy is in for a woeful time. Maybe there should be a salami.

Now I must decide on beverages. Sangria? Pimm's Cup? Try for one of the fancy punches and risk embarrassment? (I am going to fill the tub with ice and chuck beer/soda in it, too.)
serinde: (ki)
I said it and I did it: I rejoined the dojo three weeks ago. I am aiming for going three times per week, but certainly not less than twice or I am censured. Ideally would be every day, and maybe a weekend session or two, but let's face it, this is not real likely.

In spite of previously-referenced inexplicable anxiety attacks, this is going pretty well. Waking up at 5:15 is complete and utter ass, as you might expect, but mostly because I'd gotten really used to lazing around with coffee for an hour before even thinking about putting pants on. I also have to make sure that every last thing is prepared when I go to bed (disgustingly early) the night before, right down to planning out what I intend to wear, so I am not stymied by last-minute fashion crises. But I actually do feel better during the day, even though I feel like I'm losing a disproportionate amount of my morning AND my evening.

I was also humbly pleased to see how many people remember me, and apparently with kindness at that. The morning class attendees are, for the most part, a non-intersecting set with the lunchtime class population, but occasionally someone will cross pollinate (and I went to the 12:15 my first day, too, since I was off work). So, um, wow.

In the "plus ça change" department, I did myself an injury--well, technically, someone was thrown into me, so it's not entirely my fault, except failure to get out of the way--which I then aggravated by spending six songs in a mosh pit Tuesday night; and so this week it has been wretchedly painful to sit in seiza or to roll on my left side (because that lands your opposite ankle down). I'm not going tomorrow, and will be away the weekend, so hopefully by Monday everything will be reporting for duty again.

I have been a bit moody the last week or so; which I was hoping re-starting aikido would fix my brane a bit more, but I have a sense it's more due to increased disgust at work + insufficient home-based downtime. I shall start declining invitations again and see if that helps.
serinde: (determination)
Having determined to go down and restart aikido today, I was gifted with raving anxiety both before (heart racing, explodo brain) and during (wacky dreams involving trying to get downtown via skateboard to meet people for brunch and being delayed by, first, an SCA fighter practice/hangout involving Their Majesties processing in with elephants, and then by getting into a fight with trucker guys who were unloading their shit into a bike lane) sleep. I have no idea what is triggering this bullshit, but I will none of it.

Today I also intend to shed the stigma of my NJ driver's license; the express DMV is tolerably near to the dojo, so that should work out nicely. For a trifecta, I shall either start the process for my 2nd pair of glasses, or shop for a vacuum (requirements: 1. small, 2. ACTUALLY WORKS) as my current fur-management system is wholly inadequate.
serinde: (Cygnus X-1)
I woke up today with a feeling of upset and off-kilter-ness, in part due to a dream I shall not recount at this time. Today at work kinda sucked rather lots, which didn't help. I came home intending to cut out the lining for a new 14th c. overdress (running a copy of my green wool one that has garnered acclaim) (because yes it's great but I NEED TO HAVE MORE THAN ONE OUTFIT FDJKLSFJDKLJF) (ahem.) (It shall be, per pale, black velvet and gold-tapestry-woven-with-a-diamond-and-fleur-de-lis-pattern.) (Should I counterchange the sleeves?) (Am I speaking in LISP?). Instead, in the middle of ironing, I felt myself getting more and more agitated, unable to settle for the state of the apartment as it is, with things bursting out of closets and cluttered dresser tops I can't dust and STILL A BOX OF BOOKS UNPACKED and and and and. So I pulled apart closets and have been rearranging and letting things go and so on. It is going promisingly so far, and I feel calmer and less agitated. So maybe no new dress to fit this weekend, but it seems that I needed to do this thing.

I think I'm even ready to let go my boom box. This is a large entity Mom gave me when I went away to college. The tape decks don't really work so well, the CD player works but is fussy; chiefly I use it for radio (or CDs) when I'm playing games at the computer and so don't want gfefx also playing music. It has really good sound for its size, but...the size. It's huge. It takes up half of my dresser. It could be replaced. What I replace it with won't sound as good, but does it really matter?

If I can sort out a way to keep all the sewing stuff together and accessible, I will have done a good evening's work.
serinde: (ki)
Yoga has been really, really good for me over the past year; and since sometimes the exigencies of duty have kept me from going, it seemed to me that I might profit greatly from doing some at home in the morning. I have found many excuses not to do this thing, ranging from "bleh morning snrk argh" to "wood floor is haaaaaaard". To deal with the latter whinge, I bought a Real Yoga Mat (which has koi on it! How can you not be inspired by staring at koi? ... ) about a month ago, which has sat idle since; the new excuse being "but I'm doing morning pages! I can't spare the time for both, not unless I want to get up super super early, and then what's the point of living so close, wah wah wah wah and anyways I'm going thrice a week and that's good". Well, okay; but the last several weeks, between vacation and the student email migration and lack of personnel and what-not, I haven't been going thrice a week. Sometimes I've been lucky to go once a week. And lo, yesterday I was up a pound from the holiday festivities; and I am feeling sniffly in my head, which I never seem to get sick if I'm exercising regularly; so this morning I had a nice tall glass of Shut The Fuck Up, rolled out the mat, and did a 20 minute workout from And it was Good, although lord does my balance and flow ever suck rocks right when I get up.
serinde: (self-control)
I was on the way home tonight, for the third evening running of being at home (which may be a new record since moving in), and I found I was castigating myself for wasting a beautiful evening & not going out to Do Something. "But I'm tiiiiiired..." "SHUT UP GO DO SOMETHING YOU ARE WASTING YOUR LIIIIIFE"

I am indeed at home, though will go out to drop the sheets etc. at the laundromat since the coin-op is closed for sorely-needed renovations. Possibly I will bake.
serinde: (Cygnus X-1)
It was needful that the house be 100% empty ("broom clean", as they say in the trade) by this evening, as the walkthrough was to happen then, and we are signing it away at 9am tomorrow. The movers appeared in the morning to pack up that which Steve is taking to his new place, and everything else Must Go. Therefore, much of the day was spent chucking things into a giant dumpster, because a 5 bedroom house fits a hell of a lot more stuff than one studio + one 1-BR apartment no matter how you slice it.

Some stuff, I am happy to say, found new homes. [ profile] sweh took our dining room set (and I saddled him with the hammock and the grill); many, many people took books; Dan took The Comfiest Chair In The World; etc. And I have a carload of MOAR STUF which I don't know how on earth I'll merge it into my space. But we still threw out enough to pile a 30' dumpster to the brim (and this after renting a smaller one several months ago for the obviously worthless garbage). This upset me a lot, to the point where I welcomed the chance for a two-hour driving errand to the city.

Some of the upset was because, yes, I am an unrelieved animist. Throwing away a book is still, in my head, only slightly less culpable than abandoning a baby. I'm working on letting go of this, or at least bringing it to a reasonable pitch[1]. More of it was the sheer waste; I think we probably threw out a couple hundred dollars' worth of food, for instance, and then there's the toiletries and household supplies and an inexpensive but fairly new bed and a FUCKING TV even if it's a huge CRT that no one wants to deal with and and and... I realize that price is not the only measure of worth, and that if no one has a need for a thing, then the amount of green folding paper you exchanged for it becomes irrelevant; but I found I was keeping a mental running total of how much of the fruits of our collective labor was being discarded, and the significance was assuming epic proportions.

Which leads to the final aspect, which is the discarding of, well, the fruits of our collective labor. My whole working life, this, and a significant percentage of it tossed with a wild cry of "Junk it!" Sure, I saved the bits that mean the most or are the most useful or (etc.), but it's brands from the burning, and I have a very large crow on my shoulder croaking into my ear a never-ending refrain of "You Did It Wrong".

[1]However, I am still pretty durn pissed that Steve dumpstered the signed and numbered Gould print of the cover to "Stormbringer", and I think I am justified in this.
serinde: (Cygnus X-1)
I've felt rather low this week, particularly this morning. Some can certainly be chalked up to exhaustion and weather, and weather-caused exhaustion--the stickiness is overcoming my apartment coolth--, but I feel that's not all of it. I want everyone and everything to go away and leave me to my own devices. Well, not really, but sort of; and in spite of a reasonable amount of being home and puttering, I haven't actually been cleaning as much (other than the kitchen, which I have to, since much of the puttering has been cooking) or furthering my goals of making the place look like I want it to. I had been holding off on budgetary concerns, as the house sale doesn't go through for another ~3 weeks (presuming all goes well), but maybe I should advance myself a bit more funding for the sake of my well-being.

And then I look at myself and say, Self, are you really such a shallow being that you need a decorative shelving unit and some placemats and a fan to soothe your discontent?
serinde: (self-control)
This is the first downtime I've had at home in a full week. Therefore, of course, I'm fighting the urge to GO OUT AND DO SOMETHING (in this case, trudging out to W'burg for the Renegade Craft Fair, which, no, I shouldn't be buying stuff, but I figure it would feed my head right well; and it's a gorgeous day to amble around a park).

Can someone please explain why my back-brain thinks that a relaxing day at home == WASTING MY LIIIIIIIFE ?
serinde: ("What fresh hell?")
So I picked up the keys to the apartment last night, and went in for the first time since I looked it over and said "yes, have some". I unlocked the door, dropped my four bags of miscellaneous crap, and looked around; and then did an impression of the above icon.

I don't know how, but it looked bigger with all the previous tenant's stuff in it. I WILL NEVER FIIIIIIIIT I HAVE THROWN OUT ALL MY STUFF AND I STILL WON'T FIIIIIIIIIIT

While I was slowly rotating and gibbering, [ profile] sweh came in (with flowers!!) and got me a bit calmed down; and then I proceeded with the intended goal, which was to take the tape measure and the graph paper and actually graph the place out. (This is what happens when your parents start you on D&D at age 7.) Regrettably I cannot scan it at this time, so draw along at home: The place is basically a big rectangle, just under 11' wide, and about 25' long. (And then the bathroom is stuck on the end.) At the not-bathroom end are two windows; if you set your back to them and walk forward about 15.5', the walls come in to form a 5' wide doorway, with two folding doors. When you're standing with your back to the windows, immediately to your left is stove, sink, enough countertop for one appliance (who wins? Coffeemaker, mixer, rice cooker, or toaster?), and fridge. Th-th-th-that's all, folks.

Intellectually, I know it is more than possible to live in such a space. We all know people who do, and do it well. And moreover, as I keep chanting to myself, I have a one year lease; if the place chafes, I can leave. But it's still a shock to the mind to feel all "oh I've done pretty well! Look at all the stuff I'm getting rid of or not taking!" and then realize, well, actually, it's not half enough. It has been noted that perhaps I am just a wee bit too wrapped up in Proving Something and Doing It Perfectly and sundry other related issues.

I'm not sure if the futon fits. The desk does, but by damn the computer goes there and only there. TV goes where? Can't take the blue armchair, or if I do, it's in place of the futon and that seems bad, want to have a guest bed. Must get flat-panel TV, no two ways about that. I can fit bed and dresser, and the jewelry armoire, but I just don't know about the vanity. OH MY GOD I FORGOT ABOUT THE BAR STUFF WHERE DOES THE BOOZE GO

Oh, and litterbox. I could probably get a smaller one, as Ranger eats two kibbles a day and produces very little effluvium, but it still must needs go somewhere.

So. Yes. Everybody Panic.
serinde: (brew-up)
For the past week or so, I've been struggling through a whole pile of mental/emotional bees, the form and content of which I shall not weary the Gentle Reader with. I have Gotten Things Done, but not as much as I should like (or as was really necessary), and every damn inch was as hotly contested as your average portion of Western Front entrenchment. Even this morning I was in a state that could, with tolerable accuracy, be described as "a fucking mess" (as poor [ profile] sweh can bear witness to).

And then, this afternoon, I did tons of packing and organization and cooking and helped [ profile] nedlnthred rake up the winter detritus in the front yard and Lord knows what else (except laundry). And felt good through all of it. Though now that I stop to reflect, I have a vaguely-unsteady feeling, like if I look around too hard I'll realize I'm running on thin air and then plummet down in approved coyote fashion.

Hopefully I can maintain this; there is still a lot to do and perilously little time to do it in. Tomorrow night is given over to getting taxes done (and picking up Scuzzy from the vet? I hope), Tuesday night I am meeting with the moving people so they can quote how much I shall be soaked for this endeavor, etc. etc. It is, as they say, a long way to Tipperary.
serinde: (Default)
I'm sort of feeling anti-"fleshy things with their mouth noises" at the moment (I guess I have for awhile, at that; but it's marked tonight) so this will consist chiefly of unadorned information.

1. Yes, I signed on Apartment #12. I will, barring extreme WTFery, be moving the first weekend in April. Various, but mostly high, levels of psycho-emotional ulaeulaeulaeulae are being generated from these small, bare facts.

2. I was in London this past weekend, as some knew, some intuited, and some had no idea on. I went to [ profile] sbp's birthday party, which was groovy; missed [ profile] simonb's birthday party, which I deeply regret; went down t'pub with [ profile] pir, which was most pleasant; and missed connections with [ profile] reddragdiva, which I also deeply regret. I also got mired in a bog, discovered an 18th c. house in Hampstead Heath, and continued my trend of walking into pubs frozen to the core (and then got stared at like I had three heads when I asked for tea with whisky--did not you people invent this shit?). Ostensibly the purpose of this adventure was to see a number of the members of Hawkwind recreate the legendary 1972 Space Ritual tour, which is literally a once-in-a-lifetime chance, but Nik Turner fucked up his back using a chainsaw last week (!?!?) and so it's postponed til June. Because of the nature of the exceedingly cheap ticket I got, trying to change my travel time or even cashing it in for a credit would have been a giant lose, so I just bloody well went, and why not? Also, I really like Camden. And I feel slightly lame for not heading down to Brixton on Sat. night to see Alabama 3's all-night dance party: on the one hand, yes I'd been up for nigh 40 hours at that point, but on the other, when would I have a chance to do that again either?. Anyways. Returned last night, am still awfully flat.

3. I need to re-dye the teal in my hair but I just don't have the energy or will. I find this mildly distressing, but hope and trust that a few days' sleep will set me up right.
serinde: (maneki neko)
Looked at three more apartments last night. I intended to just look at the one I'd seen the post for, but there were two others in the same building complex available in my price range, so I permitted myself to be shown them as well.

Introspection goes here. )
serinde: ("What fresh hell?")
[ profile] nedlnthred and I went down to Nicole's for a stitch-and-bitch today, where [ profile] briony530 and [ profile] murieldechimay and others were already assembled; and by the end of the night, after I had been plied with hot 16th C. programming[1] and wine and food, I sobered up to find I'd agreed to teach two classes[2] at Hrim Schola.


Because, you know, I wasn't already reaching critical anxiety levels about everything else going on.

[1] "Dangerous Beauty" followed by "The Tudors".
[2] Specifically, "Beginner's Guide To Picking Fabric For Your Project", and "Cote-Hardie Engineering For The Large-Breasted". Now to see if anyone's already doing either of those...
serinde: (Cygnus X-1)
I haven't said much of consequence for quite some time (and have been poor at answering email &c, for which I submit a blanket apology). I've been a little bit withdrawn and, hmm, encapsulated for the past month and change, and for the most part felt a strange aversion to opening up the cocoon around my emotional state. Then, while in England, I had a terrible time trying to sleep; I assumed that I was just having time zone adjustment issues, but on the last night of the visit I finally realized I had been sublimating anxiety...I don't think we can call them attacks, per se; a whispering campaign maybe? Part of it is upcoming work drama (we are moving the Help Desk next month, and there is all kinds of ancillary chaos, destruction, and politics to go with it), but most of it has been about me, and where I'm going, and what I'm doing next. See, once it became clear that the housing market was having all the flow of treacle, I put it all out of my head with the figuring that I would deal with it after the New Year; and thus, once the holidays arrived, a giant pie of The Future Is Now was smashed in my face.

So I've been processing all that, and weathering variably-powered attacks of "what am I doing", "am I doing it wrong", and "lo, they shall find my abandoned corpse chewed by wild dogs", which I guess means I am finally taking the training wheels off the bicycle of my emotional maturity. Steve and I discussed the state of our non-liquid assets, and he is encouraging me to go ahead and get an apartment without waiting for the house to sell, so I am shifting into Serious Cat Is Serious About Apartment Listings mode (instead of just casually dorking around on Craigslist, making fun of the shyster listings--hey kids, did you know that Fifth Ave. just north of Washington Square is part of SoHo?).

[Poll #1324721]

So that's what's going on here. I'm still feeling a bit drained and of limited verbiage, but I wuv you all, every one.
serinde: (ki)
So. Passport. Quite, quite missing.

Simultaneous with this, I have been reading (on [ profile] nedlnthred's earnest and, in the event, utterly accurate recommendation) Eat, Pray, Love; which I'm halfway through the "pray" part, and one of the consistent themes is about the author's learning to open herself to what abundance the universe/God/whatever you want to call it is prepared to give her to answer her needs. This is also, of course, a consistent theme in yoga (which the author practices; well duh), and it's entirely in tune with some central ideas in the Artist's Way, and if you squint a bit it's pretty close to a lot of aikido concepts too.

If I'm trying to follow these paths, perhaps I should listen to the points where they all seem to be in agreement, yes? No matter how tree-hugging hippie nonsense it may seem to my corn-fed superego. So as I lay in bed last night, I stopped racking my brain for Where Could The Goddamn Thing Be, and relaxed both body and mind (yoga people: aiming for the kind of head-state you get during shivasana) and just peopled it with a wishing/wanting/desiring to receive the location of my passport.

Three minutes later, a picture came in, which was of the black tote bag with the shiny embroidery that [ profile] sweh brought me back from London, which was still at the house (or inna box, but I thought it was at the house {which it was}). Um, okay. We'll try it. It's plausible.

So here I am in Fair Lawn, and there is the tote bag in the library closet, and THERE IS THE FUCKING PASSPORT.

Thank you, O universe. Or O subconscious. Or whatever combination of influences led me here.


serinde: (Default)

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