Neli Andreeva's daughters, now all grown up

Sun, May. 17th, 2026 09:36 pm
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[personal profile] sonia
Neli Andreeva is one of Bulgaria's top singers, awesomely skilled and kind. I've posted about her over the years, in 2013 and 2020 and 2023.

In choir this session, we're learning Bel Veter Due from Bulgaria, and I found this wonderful video of Andreeva with her two daughters, Kalina (14?) and Yoana (9?).



The kids are all grown up now, and making their own music videos. Len Peri, a new song based on an old story from Shopluk folklore.

Fountain pen geekery

Sun, May. 17th, 2026 09:20 pm
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[personal profile] brithistorian

A couple of days I ordered a Hong Dian M1 fountain pen. For those of you who didn't follow the link, it's an aluminum travel-travel fountain pen that's just over 4 inches long when closed. This is the third travel-sized fountain pen I've bought, and if I'm not happy with this one, then I'm going to write off travel-sized fountain pens entirely.

Anyway, it arrived today, and it looked great, so of course I had to fill it so I could see how it writes. I had a bottle of Noodler's waterproof ink that hadn't really worked with my Lamy Safaris, so I decided to try it with the Hong Dian. And it might have worked, except that the converter wasn't fully installed, so when I tried to fill it, then pen fell off the converter and into the bottle of ink. So I carried the bottle of ink into the bathroom, got a paper bowl, and poured the ink into the bowl so I could get the pen out. Once I had the pen out and cleaned, I tried pouring the ink from the bowl back into the bottle, but my hand slipped and I ended up pouring the whole bottle down the sink.

After cleaning the sink, I installed the converted and filled the pen is Pilot Iroshizuku ink. It worked well, and I'm very happy with it so far.

Also in pen news, Lamy has introduced the 2026 Special Edition Safaris. Apparently their theme for this year is "1983," because the colors of fluorescent yellow and fluorescent pink.

Dumb mistake I only just spotted

Sun, May. 17th, 2026 07:17 pm
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[personal profile] fayanora
LOL. You ever make a decision in writing that seems reasonable at the time and later realize it's not reasonable? In my case today, I realized that two scenes in book 7 should be changed because 1. I decided Portland doesn't have its own international portal hub (similar to an international airport, but with portals). Which, okay, fine. Whatever. But 2. I had the groups in both scenes choose to use the one in San Diego, and had one of these groups driving there for some reason. So 3. Driving? When shadow-walking is a thing for them? When Vedya was younger, that might have made sense, even though Morgana and Nizoni can both bring passengers along while shadow-walking. But by that point in the series, Vedya can not only shadow-walk on her own, but also Blink.

Anyway, San Diego is like, 1000 miles from Portland, and even for an adult witch, that's a bit too far to shadow-walk in one go, unless one's magic is being super-charged by panic and desperation. But Seattle, a place they go to semi-regularly anyway because Kira tends to stay up there, is only about 130 miles away from Portland. And they have already been shown to be able to shadow-walk / Blink from Portland to Seattle with relative ease. And if even that distance was too much for Vedya, it'd still be a three hour drive as opposed to a SIXTEEN HOUR drive. (They didn't drive that long in the current version, as they drove one of their cars through a portal that took them to San Diego. Still, why go there instead of Seattle? In the unlikely event their car, magical as it is, got stolen or something, 138 miles is a lot easier of a distance to get home without a car than 1000 miles would be. Plus, they have friends and allies and connections in Seattle that they don't have in San Diego.)

So basically, it makes so much more sense for both groups to go to Seattle instead of San Diego that I am going to have to edit those scenes to take place in Seattle instead of San Diego. Just... not today.

vital functions

Sun, May. 17th, 2026 10:54 pm
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[personal profile] kaberett

Celebrating. My 36th birthday! In low-key but very pleasant fashion.

Reading. I have made Some progress on Your Inner Fish (Neil Shubin), but alas not enough to actually finish it before the loan autoreturned to the library (and there is a queue, so I have put it back on hold, sigh). I had got up to the teeth. Leaving aside some towering indignation on behalf of zoos and aquaria everywhere (not everything in these settings is Bilaterian! not all Bilaterians have a head and two eyes!!! this is a terrible introduction to phylogeny!!!!!) I am having a good time with this one. In brief: palaeontologist specialising in fossil fish unexpectedly ends up in charge of medical students' first-year human anatomy course, and has Opinions.

Watching. Richie's Brooklyn Gym, a ten-minute documentary short about the gym Casey Johnston joined when she first started lifting weights.

Playing. Working on a puzzle that I am enjoying way more than I expected to, which is a delight.

Cooking. A quiche, this evening, with spelt flour, which I overdid a bit but oh well; and, yesterday, The Familial Celebratory Cake. :)

Eating. PURPLE ASPARAGUS. Raspberries. My mother's moussaka. Birthday cake. Bonus cake from Gweek Village Stores. A Gear Farm pasty.

Growing. The lemongrass has survived being potted up! And the poblano is flowering enthusiastically. :)

Observing. A nuthatch, we are pretty sure, at the Cornish Seal Sanctuary! In addition to the puffins and The Regulars Various, we did get to meet Hot Cross Bun, who is not quite ready for release yet but is getting very close to it. We got to see seal behaviour we had never previously observed (Attie, up in a rehab pool to keep Banana(rama) company while she stabilises on her anti-seizure meds, apparently really likes sunbathing belly-up with only her head underwater; and two of the residents were PORPOISING enthusiastically!!!). Sea pinks; Wundklee; CHOUGHS.

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[personal profile] the_shoshanna
... before I fall over.

We got down to the hotel's cellar bar and restaurant a few minutes after the announced gathering time; the hotelier met us and showed us to where about twenty people were sitting in a circle and announced, "We have some Canadians!" He and his family are Dutch -- according to the hotel website, he/they moved here and started running it in 2004 -- and there are a whoooole lot of Dutch folks staying here! We fitted two more chairs into the circle, a waitress asked if we'd like drinks and I asked for a glass of merlot, and then I started chatting with the Dutch woman on my left. (I assume Geoff was chatting with the Dutch man on his right, but tbh I wasn't paying attention.) She said that she and many of the other Dutch guests were from the northern Netherlands, and there's a nearby airport with direct flights to Guernsey, so why not? And I imagine the fact that the hotelier is a native Dutch speaker doesn't hurt.

But we had only a few minutes to talk before everyone having tapas that night was called to go find their table: we're assigned tables here for meals, you look for the one with your room number on it. We were in a back corner of the cellar bar/restaurant area, right beside the actual bar (but this morning for breakfast we were assigned a different table, on the other side, next to big windows out onto the back garden that our room overlooks). The tapas dinner was excellent: hummus and rocket-and-herb salad and nice crusty bread; olives; patatas bravas; shrimp scampi (which I got all of, because of Geoff's aforementioned dislike of shellfish); lemon-roasted chicken; wee crispy Vietnamese spring rolls with a sweet chili sauce that leaned very pleasantly toward the "chili" side of that rather than the "sweet"; and for dessert, cream-filled profiteroles with chocolate sauce. And you could ask for seconds of anything; Geoff asked for one more piece of chicken and they brought him another whole dish of three. I refused to help him finish them, because I had to manage all the shrimp by myself, oh the horror.

And then we staggered off to bed.

Today we decided to do what is generally agreed to be the island's most challenging hike, along the southern coast. We started with an excellent breakfast (and I confess it's a bit of a relief not to be the only people in the breakfast room, with Elena our previous host chatting energetically at us and pressing food on us; she was very warm and friendly and enthusiastic, but at home Geoff and I don't even talk much to each other at breakfast, she was A Lot). We were shown to our pretty window-side table -- I would have been okay tucked into the dark back corner again if we had been, but I was very happy not to be -- were brought delicious coffee that would not punch Superman through a wall, and had our choice off a menu of about six different cooked breakfasts plus the spread of croissants, pains au chocolat, and white rolls; fresh watermelon, slightly stewed berries, and what I think were canned mandarin oranges and some other fruit; various cold cereals; packaged yogurts; and slices of cheddar, wedges of brie, and three kinds of cured meat. It was great, and I confess I wrapped a roll and a wedge of brie in my napkin and smuggled them out for trail food later. 😈

We planned to catch a bus from in front of the hotel to our hike's starting point, Portelet Harbour, just north of the island's southwest corner. Geoff's blog entry for today chivalrously fails to mention that I waved off the first bus that came because I misread the schedule and misremembered the route number and basically just screwed up and waved off the bus we actually wanted. No big deal, though; a different but equally suitable bus was supposed to follow in twenty minutes.

Please note the phrase "supposed to." It is load-bearing.

The other bus didn't come. We spent an hour waiting in chilly damp weather, while I vainly tried to shake bus information out of both Google Maps and the Guernsey bus app. I still have no idea if I misread that schedule too, or if the bus just didn't run for some reason, or what, but it wasn't a fun hour. Not that Geoff got cranky at me, he didn't, just that I was cold and frustrated and embarrassed! But finally a suitable bus showed up, and I was at least able to track our progress and know when we should get off. (So far the Guernsey buses also have electronic display screens, but the only thing we've seen them show is the time and the URL of the bus company, harrumph.)

The bus stop seemed a fairly bustling place, with a big hotel and a big bay and a snack kiosk and some very welcome public toilets, and also a welcome/refreshments tent for what seemed to be a fairly major organized run; when we set off along the coastal trail, counterclockwise, for the first while we met many runners in running vests and race pinnies/bibs coming the other way. A few of them were running with the help of poles, which I'd never seen runners do before. But considering some of the inclines they had had to run up, I can see why they'd want them!

It rapidly got sunnier and warmer, and I peeled off a lot of layers as we went, and in general it was the usual gorgeous hike, with spectacular views along the cliffs and over the ocean, and several German defensive emplacements (one with a biiig gun still mounted), and lighthouses and occasional signs explaining the historic thing we were looking at. (In general I've been impressed with the authorities on both Jersey and Guernsey who maintain these things: the trails have been in great shape and pretty clearly marked even though I've been glad to have GPS backup, and the signage of historical markers has been good.)

The trail wasn't challenging in the sense of being technically difficult, but it had a lot of ups and downs, as it navigated its way through places where the ocean has gouged deep bays into the cliffside. And the ascents and descents got longer and steeper and more common as we we went on, especially after we reached the southernmost point and turned to follow the coast east. At one point, as we stood staring up at what must have been at least our fifth extremely long and extremely steep stairway roughly cut into the face of a cliff, I told Geoff, "There will be a short delay while I pause to hate everything." He allowed that that was perfectly reasonable.

(Another conversation:

Geoff: Why do we have to go up and down and up and down and up and down all the time? Why can't we just only go down?

me: Next year we'll go to Escher Island. We just have to make sure we only walk around it counterclockwise.)


But there were also amazing views of those cliffs, and frequent benches on which to sit and admire the views, and profusions of flowers growing on the south-facing banks next to the path, and sweet-faced cows grazing or resting by the fence that separated their field from our pathway (one was industrially licking another one's ear! Other than mother cows with calves, I don't think I've ever seen cows groom one another), and five ponies of which two were flopped on their sides asleep and looking kind of ridiculous. And plenty of walkers coming the other way to say hello to, especially if they had friendly dogs. Plus we had plenty of trail mix and I had my bread and cheese from breakfast, and two full water bottles; I like the tap water here, thank goodness.

But after almost four hours we were ready to call it. So when our cliffside trail reached a German observation tower that could be accessed by road, we cut inland to walk the roads home to our hotel. It took us another 45 minutes to get there, but at least cars, unlike hikers, insist on reasonably level transits! And the roads (other than the main ones, which we were not on) are so small, and have so little traffic, that it's no problem to walk along them even though there's no sidewalk. At least, in daylight.

We staggered in, and I generously let Geoff have first shower, because that meant that I could spend twenty minutes not standing up. Anyway he's faster than me, so I usually want him to go first anyway -- but the prospect of just being able to collapse was very nice too.

Them it was back to the pub down the road for their Sunday carvery dinner -- slab o' meat! slab o'meat! as the VividCon gang used to chant. We had our choice of any or all of beef, lamb, gammon, and chicken, plus Yorkshire puddings, roasted carrots, roasted parsnips, potatoes both roasted in chunks and baked whole, cauliflower and cheese, broccoli and some other greens I wasn't sure of, a sort of mash of I think carrots and turnips, and other veggies that I don't even remember, plus two kinds of gravy and about six sauces. It was amazing. Also the barman gave me a guided tour of their draft ciders; I was sorry that I disliked the local one, which was quite dry, but I very much liked a hazy cider from an English brewery and had a whoooole pint of it.

We sat near several tables of other Dutch guests at our hotel; I mean, the pub is the closest restaurant and it has that 15% off deal! The couple next to us started chatting with us, which was nice except that I occasionally had trouble understanding their English (and of course we have no Dutch). She told us that one reason so many Dutch people were at the hotel was that there had just been a newspaper article on it back home, so she and her husband, and presumably a bunch of other folk, had figured: easy well-recommended vacation at a hotel run by a countryman, why not?

And then back home and omg to bed. Geoff went to sleep at 8:45, he was really wiped; I have stayed up to finish writing this, and also because I don't want to wake up at four am!


In news that may not surprise you, we are not doing a long ambitious hike tomorrow. I'm not sure what we're doing, in fact; my collapsing this evening took the form not of falling asleep before nine but of declining to do any planning or logistics. Whew!

one more thing about Friday's hike

Sun, May. 17th, 2026 04:39 pm
the_shoshanna: my boy kitty (Default)
[personal profile] the_shoshanna
I forgot to say that, as we were making our way along the wooded trail south, I saw a little spur track jut off it to the left (i.e., toward the edge of the sea cliff) and peering down it I saw a small building with a historical-marker sign, so we went to look. It turned out to be a stone two-room hut built as a watch post against the French in, iirc, the late seventeenth century -- and right behind it (that is, on the landward side) was a 4,800-year-old passage grave! Just minding its business and its dead for almost five thousand years. (This is it: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_Couperon_dolmen) It's so cool to be somewhere where we can just stumble upon such things!

RPG Limit Break starts today!

Sun, May. 17th, 2026 10:30 am
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[personal profile] althea_valara
In about two hours, to be exact!

If you're unfamiliar with it: RPG LB is a charity event where people speedrun RPG video games while raising money for NAMI. Being mentally ill and neurodivergent myself, this is a cause near and dear to my heart, so I try to support them by at least watching some of the runs. This year, I'm financially stable enough to finally be able to make a small donation myself.

The list of games being run is here: https://tracker.rpglimitbreak.com/runs/rpglb2026

I will be watching as many Final Fantasy and Kingdom Hearts runs as I can! Not Tactics though, since I am currently playing that myself.

I used to go to monthly NAMI meetups, and it was a help at a time when I was severely depressed, so I appreciate the good work they do.

Job Update

Sat, May. 16th, 2026 10:03 pm
soc_puppet: [Homestuck] God tier "Hope" themed Dreamsheep (Sheep of Hope)
[personal profile] soc_puppet
Talked things out with my boss on Thursday, and we came to a much better understanding. Part of it is something that I'm still having trouble internalizing, but is part of my reality, and so I will have to learn to accept it. (Maybe after a brief mourning period. Hopefully the ADA and EAP paperwork HR sent over will help by giving me a way through.)

In short: I thought I was unneeded in my job; Boss thought I didn't care about my job and had one foot out the door.

The reality is pretty close to that, but different in important ways )

Anyway, the bakery Lead Cook (second in command) will be helping me out at work tomorrow and teaching me a few of the things I haven't had the opportunity to really learn in the past two-ish years. I am dearly hoping that one of our "new" bread recipes is on the to-do list 💖

(no subject)

Sat, May. 16th, 2026 12:30 pm
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[personal profile] beatrice_otter
Does anyone work on the Open Doors project at AO3? Or know someone who does? I am trying to do something similar on Ad Astra, and need some advice from someone who knows the OTW archive software better.

Specifically, there are a couple of people who had accounts and fic on the old Ad Astra archive who are now dead, and we would like to make sure that their works are preserved by transferring them to the new archive. We would like them all to have the same format that unclaimed works imported by Open Doors have on AO3--"by name [archived by archivist]". We have successfully achieved that with shorter works, but I'm trying to import a fic with 363 chapters and half a million words. It cannot be imported; the archive times out. I thought that if I imported the first chapter and then uploaded the rest of the chapters manually, it would work, but trying to import only the first chapter timed out the archive as well. Then I thought about importing another work that would import, changing the title and chapter text to the one I wanted, and then manually adding further chapters. But it's listing it as just "Archivists" in the author space, without the name of the original author.

Help!

ETA: figured it out myself!

Never mind, I figured it out myself!

The issue is that when you are uploading a fic for someone else, you are required to put their email in the box so they are contactable. This person is dead and I have no idea what their email address was when they were alive, so I put in the archivists' email. So the system decided that it was just by Archivists despite having the name of someone else and having the box checked that it was someone else's fic that archivists was posting.

I made up an email to put in instead, and it posted as "by name [archived by archivist]" just as it should.

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[personal profile] the_shoshanna
Concluding the story of yesterday, beginning the story of today (NB: some non-graphic discussion of seasickness)We finished our official hike at Mount Orgueil Castle, which is a huge ruin towering imposingly over the bay and the town of Gorey, which is of course why it was built there. Settlement on that spot goes back to Neolithic times, if I remember the signboard correctly, but this castle was primarily built to defend against the French, after the Channel Islanders had decided to maintain loyalty to King John (of Robin Hood legend fame) instead of the French. The negotiations around that decision are why the islands are still not part of the UK today, but remain "direct dependencies of the British crown." I bought something small with a British ten-pound note early on in our stay, and got change in Jersey pounds, which are different.

(Also, castle ruins like that sometimes make me think about how the ability to scan a bay and determine the likely approaches of both friendly and hostile arrivals, and know where and how to build a fortification to control passage, is a skill completely foreign to me.)

We wanted some lunch, and we knew that lots of buses would go through Gorey on their way back to St Helier (there's a reason we did the hike north to south, to end there!), so from the castle we wandered down to a semi-circle of shops and restaurants facing Gorey Pier, and strolled their length comparing menus until we settled on the one at the end, because for some reason I was craving pizza. We split a really good pizza with pepperoni and spicy ham and fior di latte, and another pint of beer. I'm generally not much of a drinker, but somehow traveling with Geoff leads me to regular day drinking! We like trying local brews, and we have few or no responsibilities (except for me keeping track of the logistics, and both of us having to stay on top of a few things at home), so it's one of the pleasures of a trip, for me. Except that I do still have a teensy weensy tolerance level, so I'm careful about amount.

Which can mean that I'm occasionally amazed at how much others can put away! At the table next to us at lunch there sat down a man and woman, probably a bit older than us, whom I initially, reflexively assumed to be a couple. They initially caught my attention because he ordered a beer and she ordered a bottle of wine, and I thought to myself how I could not imagine managing to finish a bottle of wine by myself, at lunch. Then he finished his beer, had some of her wine, and they finished that bottle and started on a second. Before they'd had any food, even. I would die.

At the point where they were just about finishing the first bottle, they asked if we would take a picture of them with his phone, which I willingly did, and we got to talking. They turned out to be an Irish brother and sister who had lived on Jersey for several decades; he was a schoolteacher and she was retired but I think she said she'd done something in the cosmetics line. Anyway, I started to wonder if there was something about us that attracted conversation from tipsy Irish Jerseyites! It was the kind of conversation where they talked much more than we did, but Geoff did manage to wedge some contributions in, and I mostly made interested murmuring noises. They were the first people we'd talked to who, on hearing that we were going from Jersey to spend ten days on Guernsey, cheerfully approved and told us we'd have a wonderful time! Also, iirc, that the produce is better on Guernsey. Also, on hearing that we'd been to Ireland (separately) in the distant past and might go again (together), she told us all about this pamphlet she'd found while she was digging through all her cupboards and shelves trying to find a lost credit card; she had turned up so much forgotten stuff, among which was this pamphlet listing guesthouses and homestays in Ireland. We got on the subject because when we told them we were staying in a guesthouse in St Helier -- I mean, that's in its name, it's the Franklyn Guesthouse -- they were astounded that there were any guesthouses left, they said they'd almost all been replaced by hotels. Anyway, we all agreed that guesthouses and B&Bs and small independent hotels are more fun to stay in than chain hotels, and she told us we had to see this wonderful pamphlet, so Geoff gave her his card with his email address and maybe she'll send us some scans or something. I confess I wonder how old this pamphlet is, given that she uncovered it while doing a big clear-out, but certainly it's not impossible that Geoff and I will want to go to Ireland at some point; a branch of his family came from Ballymoney, in fact.

(We asked them to take a picture of us, too, which Geoff has posted in his blog.)

The brother spent quite a while telling us about the big rugby match that would be played the next day (i.e., today) between Jersey and Guernsey: the Siam Cup (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siam_Cup). He urged us to try to see it, but it's not really our kind of thing so we made polite noises, and I made a mental note that pubs would probably be madhouses that evening.

Having finished our lunch and our half-pint of beer each, we left them to their second bottle of wine and caught a bus back to St Helier. By the time we pulled in, the pepperoni and spicy ham had made me extremely thirsty, so I was delighted to see that a small market of French vendors had been set up in one of the squares we walked through: a cheese dealer that I admired from afar, and sausages, and jams, and someone selling leather goods, and, as I had hoped, someone selling cider! I got a half-pint of a very refreshing "summer cider" for £3.50, I think it was. Since the vendors were all French, there were signs everywhere warning that credit card transactions would be billed in euros, but I was able to avoid that complication by paying with my five-Jersey-pound note.

We detoured a little on our way home to locate the hotel we'll be staying in on our last night; we have to come back from Guernsey to fly out of Jersey, and the Franklyn Guesthouse was full that night, so we have one night in a different place. Having located it, we went back to our current place to rest up and also pack, since we would have to be out the door at 6:45 am to walk to the ferry terminal. The ferry company had sent me several dire warnings that check-in opened an hour before sailing, and if we hadn't checked in by T minus thirty minutes our bookings would be canceled, no arguments no refunds no recourse. The crossing was to take a little over an hour.

I set two alarms juuuuust in case, but we woke up spontaneously eight minutes before they went off, go us. Pulled on clothes and staggered off to the ferry -- where I was very glad that we'd met that brother and sister the day before, because we turned out to be on the ferry with the Jersey rugby teams, going over for the cup match! The terminal isn't big but it has security like an airport; we didn't have to take out our liquids but we had to pull all our electronics out of our bags and empty our pockets, and they confiscated and bagged Geoff's pocketknife and multitool and told him he could get them back when we disembarked in Guernsey. Then we waited for almost an hour in a gate area that was jammed with scores of young men and women in Jersey RFC rugby uniforms, mostly ridiculously fit (I have never seen calf muscles like that in my life), some clearly support staff or friends/family rather than players but every bit as energized, many of them hauling huge bags of gear, a few of them clearly on whatever the rugby equivalent of "injured reserve" is (arm in a sling, leg in a cast, etc.), and all of them talking nonstop at maximum volume and yelling excited greetings at one another.

Eventually we boarded the ferry, and Geoff and I were directed to a seating area in a big cabin at sea level where we dumped our giant hiking backpacks in a luggage rack and, carrying our day packs, managed to snag a left-side window seat and the one next to it in a row of four; then there was a middle row of something like six, and then another row of four on the right side of the cabin, and maybe twenty or thirty of those rows in the cabin in all, like the coach section of a very wide plane. The seats were basically airplane seats, in fact, except that they were fixed at a slight angle of recline.

I was glad to have a window seat because I wanted to watch whatever view there was, but I was EXTREMELY GLAD to have a window seat (and also that given the morning's time crunch we'd skipped breakfast) once we really got going, because I don't know if that was an unusually rough crossing or if that's what they're all like but we were heaving up and crashing into the water, sending up big impact waves that would wash over the windows and completely block the view for a few moments as though we'd briefly submerged. A few of the crest-and-crash movements were forceful enough that people lifted right out of their seats yelling like they were on a roller coaster -- and then people started getting queasy. There was a lot of hasty passing around of extra sick bags, in addition to the ones in the seat pockets. At least one person two rows ahead of us puked. The guy on Geoff's other side started looking very worried and pulled out his bag, whereupon I started ignoring him and everyone else as hard as I could and looking rigidly out the window at the horizon -- when I could see it; it was frequently completely obscured by the waves crashing against us -- because while I've never had a problem on a plane and only very very rarely in a car, I do have problems on boats in rough seas when I can't see a horizon and especially when I have to hear-- you know what, let's just move on. I sang a bunch of Gilbert and Sullivan to myself ("I am the monarch of the sea!") and made a mental note to pick up some Dramamine or Gravol or whatever they call it here before getting on another ferry; as well as going back to Jersey on our way home, we want to take at least one day trip from Guernsey to one of the smaller islands, Herm or Sark or both. Also I will shank someone for a window seat if I have to; if I had been in the middle section I'd have been doomed. Geoff has an iron stomach, lucky man.

Anyway we all survived and staggered off the boat in St Peter Port, the capital of Guernsey. I did hear someone assuring one of the people who'd been sick that the return journey would be smoother, because the boat would be going with the wind instead of against it. The rugby people quickly regained their raucous enthusiasm, including one woman in the crowd two rows ahead of us who started loudly honking a bicycle horn as everyone was slowly shuffling forward in a packed excited mass toward the single exit from the cabin, and, well, there's more than one reason to shank someone on the ferry, is all I'm saying. No wonder they confiscated Geoff's knives. (He did get them back with no difficulty from a staffer at the end of the disembarking gangway.)

We walked about ten minutes through town to the visitor information centre, where I was told that they don't have printed maps of trails or hikes available (except for a fairly pricy book) but there's an app plus some printed maps that should do us fine, and where I saw with great interest that they were selling jars of chili crisp made with Guernsey seaweed -- I am definitely coming home with some of that! I fell in love with chili crisp a couple of years ago when it was the hot new trendy condiment, and it sounded intriguing so I tried out a few varieties. (The one I settled on as my favorite is Hot Crispy Oil https://hotcrispyoil.com/, fyi.)

Then we caught a bus a little ways out of town, to our hotel/B&B. When I was looking for places for us to stay on Guernsey, everywhere that looked good in St Peter Port itself was eyewateringly expensive, so I booked us into what looks like a nice place ten minutes' drive away but on several bus lines. It's right near the airport, and I had a moment of "oh no, maybe I should try to research flight patterns" and then I got a grip and asked myself how busy the Guernsey airport was really going to be? So far we've heard a couple of planes but it's fine.

We arrived at about 11 to find a sign saying that the front desk wouldn't be staffed until 3, but early arrivals were welcome to leave their luggage in the front hall entry while they went off to do whatever. (There were a lot of suitcases already stacked to the side.) Another note gave the wifi info, so Geoff and I prepared to unload some luggage, ensconce ourselves on the big comfy couch, and check email for a bit before heading to the pub down the road, which would open at noon and which gives a 15% discount to guests at this hotel, for our first meal of the day. But staff came through on their various morning errands and asked if they could help. At first they said our room wouldn't be ready until three (unless we wanted twin beds, which we did not), and of course we said no problem, we certainly didn't expect it to be ready this early though it would be a lovely surprise if it were, we're fine waiting. And then half an hour later they said they had a room for us! It's big, with a big window overlooking the courtyard, and we have a mini-fridge and a full bathtub rather than just a shower stall even though the hotel's website says that only "superior" rooms have them. So I guess they upgraded us! Sweet. I mean, I would be cheerfully polite anyway, and I absolutely understand that a booked hotel room probably won't be available until mid-afternoon, but it's awfully nice to be rewarded for cheerful politeness!

Geoff noticed a third note posted at reception saying that there were still a few places available for tonight's tapas dinner: meet in the hotel bar at 5:30 for intro drinks and then [list of delicious dishes I don't remember except that they looked yummy]. And we were up early, and not having to hunt around for a place to have dinner sounded great, so we booked in for that. Then we dumped our stuff in the room and went down the road to the pub for a good lunch and a shared pint of Butcombe ale, which we hadn't tried before except that at some point Geoff had a fish and chips where the batter was made with it, but that hardly counts. The pub was advertising its Sunday roast dinner, and Geoff wants to experience that, so we booked in there for six tomorrow evening. (It was also advertising that Monday is "pie night", with five different kinds of savoury pie on offer, which we also find verrrrry intriguing.)

Many of the restaurant staff we've met, both here and on Jersey (as well as the host of our guesthouse there), have clearly been nonnative English speakers; I imagine a lot of people come here from continental Europe to work in the tourist industry. At the Spanish-Asian fusion restaurant we went to twice, Geoff had a fun conversation about Spanish beers with the Spanish waiter. Today at the pub I ordered a ploughman's lunch, and the waitress didn't know what I meant, so I pointed at it on the menu and she said (more or less), "Oh, the plockman's."

And now we are tucked up in our room, blogging and otherwise farting around on the internet. There are people chatting loudly in the courtyard under our window, but I'm sure they won't be there after dark. There's also a jacuzzi and a barrel sauna in the courtyard; I wonder if they're free for residents, or if there's a charge? We brought our bathing suits for kayaking, after all, and weren't expecting to get any other use out of them...


But now it's time to get ready for dinner.

At night the little men come out

Sat, May. 16th, 2026 03:06 pm
tig_b: cartoon from nMC set (Default)
[personal profile] tig_b
 

I'd had the idea and the first line of this for some time. Today the rest came to me


At night the little men come out
I never see or hear them
but the impact of their work is seen
the incremental changes.
 
Each morning I check myself
to find what they have done
a millimetre here or there
soon adds up to centimetres.
 
Today my forearms wrinkle and crease
as fat dissolves away
my stomach bulges out to show
where it has gone instead
 
In my mind I see them all
digging with their spades
transporting fat around
depositing it elsewhere
 
Why do they never move it
away from thighs and tummy
to places that grow skinny
over time?
 
At night the little men come out
I never see or hear them
but the impact of their work is seen
the incremental changes.

Racism is stupid

Fri, May. 15th, 2026 03:50 pm
fayanora: blanc (blanc)
[personal profile] fayanora
https://daily.jstor.org/the-forgotten-untouchables-of-france/

Most bigotry is exactly this ^ ridiculous to me. I have partial face blindness; one of the side effects of this is that race is mostly a meaningless concept to me. Sure I can usually tell black & white people apart, but not always. I've mistaken white people for Greek or Mexican or Spanish, and vice versa. People's hatred for the Jews never made any sense to me because it's always been one group of white people hating another group of white people; I literally cannot tell a Jew from a gentile without some additional context or without them identifying themselves. And the cultural reasons for the hatred are even stupider to me because I've never been Christian, Jesus Christ was never a real person, and even if he had been, it was Rome that executed him in the story. And there's the fact that Judaism is just a much better religion than Christianity ever was.1

Yes, this does also mean I can't tell most Asian ethnicities apart -- Japanese, Chinese, Korean, etc mostly all look the same to me. But the same is true of white ethnicities and most shades of brown ethnicities. Black people are generally pretty distinct from white people and other people of color, but not always. I have mistaken black people for white, and white people for black (usually the lighter skin tones). And at the same time, some ethnicities are very distinctive to me. The Dalit, while black, are distinct enough for me to usually tell them apart from other black ethnicities. (Dalit = India's "untouchables.") Mongolians are also pretty distinctive to me. India's other ethnicities are distinctive to me, generally. I can also usually spot the Himba people of Africa, and the San peoples of Africa.

For anyone who doesn't already know, let me explain partial face blindness. Full face blindness is when someone can't recognize any faces apart from maybe their own in the mirror; they can't even recognize the faces of their own immediate family members. They learn to recognize people by body language and other signs. My character Vedya Ravenstone and her multiverse doubles all have full face blindness. They can see faces just fine, and can interpret facial expressions, they just can't tell one face from any other face.

Partial face blindness, like I have, is a difficulty in recognizing faces. For me, my main issue is memorizing faces. Once I have a face memorized, I usually recognize it in the future, but small changes can make me fail to recognize someone I know. New unexpected haircuts, a difference in clothing choices, or even running into someone I know in an unusual context (especially unexpectedly) can make me fail to recognize someone. The last photo I got of my mom, when I saw it, I knew at once that if she had come to Portland without telling me before seeing this photo, aging had changed her face so much that she could have walked right by me on the street, and I would not have recognized her at all unless she got my attention and spoke. Though the opposite has happened to me before as well, of mistaking strangers for someone else. (I've mistaken at least five different strangers for my friend [personal profile] kengr before, for instance. At least, from a distance.)

But yeah, when it comes to anyone I don't know, in most cases I wouldn't recognize someone I hadn't memorized. At some jobs I've had in the past, I've gotten on some customers' bad sides accidentally because I didn't recognize them, even if I had seen them come in a few minutes ago, or even talked with them a few minutes ago. It usually takes me a few days of regularly interacting with someone for my brain to memorize their face, though there are occasions when it can happen in just a few minutes, like if someone feels like a threat or if I rapidly develop a crush on them, or really like them on a friend level and thus put in the mental effort to rapidly memorize their face. But otherwise, I can see faces fine, but they usually go in one eye and out the other, to twist an expression. If you're still having trouble with the concept, think of it like cats or dogs: most humans can't tell most cats or dogs apart very easily, and it takes time and/or effort with your own pet or someone else's to memorize their appearance enough to recognize that individual.

And, so, like I said earlier in the post, that makes recognizing someone's race/ethnicity rather difficult for me. And even with people trying to explain the differences between some of these races, it still doesn't make much sense. Someone can say "Jews have big noses!" But like... so do a lot of other ethnicities, including many white gentiles. Hell, Romans were pretty famous for having prominent noses, and their noses persist in the gene pool. Also, it's been my observation that many people who identify as Jewish do not have particularly large or prominent noses at all. Many have rather small noses, in fact. Anyway, I find it very weird that members of a particular religion are considered a 'race' as well. That's silly to me. Christianity isn't a race, so why is Judaism considered a race? Why are Muslims considered a 'race'? Ridiculous.


1 = Christianity is the direct result of cultural appropriation of Judaism by people who started out pagan and twisted the old testament into something ridiculous. Original Sin isn't a thing in Judaism because G-d forgave Adam and Eve. There is no Satan or Hell in Judaism; when someone dies, the Jewish people teach that everyone goes back to G-d. Judaism is a true monotheism, whereas Christianity and Islam are bitheistic religions pretending to be monotheistic. Abortion is allowed in Judaism, especially if it threatens the woman's life to have a child; the Torah says life doesn't begin until the infant takes its first breath in the world after being born. Kosher rules can be ignored if your only choice is to either eat something not kosher or die of starvation. Fasting can also be ignored for the same reason, or if someone is recovering from an eating disorder like anorexia. Judaism prioritizes life above their religion's many rules. Judaism has its own flaws, like many of those rules for a start, but if Christianity and Islam were both replaced with Judaism, that'd be fine by me.

Last full day on Jersey (until we leave)!

Fri, May. 15th, 2026 05:22 pm
the_shoshanna: my boy kitty (Default)
[personal profile] the_shoshanna
More about yesterday, and also about todayI (we) didn't blow off dinner last night, in the end; we went back to that Spanish-Asian fusion place and I had scallops and also some of Geoff's duck gyoza and crispy beef tataki roll, which latter was so good (and food had woken me up enough) that we split a second one. Also a pint of Liberation ale, and I also had some of his dessert. We do like sharing food. (Though I eat several things he doesn't care for, and there's almost nothing he eats that I won't, so I generally get the better of the deal! He did taste a bit of a scallop since he'd never had one before, though he usually detests shellfish, and while he didn't detest it he didn't much like it, either. So they were mine all mine.)

We were eating outside -- well, the restaurant had basically enclosed their entire dining patio in transparent plastic sheeting for warmth and against the possible rain, so it wasn't really "outside" any more, but it was certainly better ventilated than inside, and the only people eating out there were a couple who finished and left soon after we arrived, and a woman who sat down a few tables away and had a couple glasses of wine which going through her various bags. The restaurant had draped cushy blankets over the backs of most of the outside seating, for the use of customers who might be chilly, and also had a couple of outdoor heaters going: very civilized! Plus the seating on the side the woman was on was more like couches and coffee tables than chairs and dining tables; it was clearly meant for socializing more than meals. Anyway, by the time we were finishing dinner and she was finishing her second big glass of wine, our eyes met and we started chatting. She was from Ireland but had lived on Jersey for like forty years; she basically told us her whole life story, but I've forgotten almost all of it (look, I was really tired) except for her saying to me, "I lost my virginity here, darling." Oooookay, enough wine for you, maybe? She was yet another person who, on hearing that we're going to Guernsey for ten days, boggled at the idea. She said that Jersey is, like, ten years behind the UK, and Guernsey is fifteen years behind Jersey, but she didn't specify what scale she was measuring on, and I didn't want to ask... Look, Guernsey has decent bus service and wifi in our hotel, it's modern enough for us. (Also, during dinner I did a bit of phone research and turned up this page https://www.visitguernsey.com/articles/2023/local-beverages-tours-and-tastings-in-guernsey/ which looks like it can keep us entertained for a while 😀)

Then we came home and I slept really well, although I had climate-catastrophe dreams. Kind of like living in a disaster movie.

Today we did our last serious hike on Jersey, from Rozel at pretty much the northeast corner to Mount Orguiel castle and the town of Gorey below it, about halfway down the east coast. It took us maybe three hours? More of the same, basically: footpaths through woodland and small roads through residential areas and great views across the rocky and/or sandy tidal flats across the ocean to France on the horizon; one road was scarcely a car-width wide but was officially two-way and had a couple of tiny pullouts marked "passing place", but if you encountered an oncoming car anywhere else, one of you would be backing up a looooong way! I'm also interested by how it's completely unremarkable to park facing oncoming traffic (on what we in the US and Canada would call the wrong side of the road), and the way that parked cars can legally just take up the traffic lane, so that the two-way road functionally narrows to one lane and cars have to take turns going through. I think a lot of Jersey traffic patterns are only workable because there isn't much traffic in the first place.

We walked past the same enormous breakwater we had gone to with [personal profile] trepkos, but we didn't go out on it this time. The wind and water were much calmer than they'd been on our previous visit, and Geoff got an ice cream and we sat and watched the bay for a bit. Further down the coast we enjoyed a rocky promontory called Jeffrey's Leap (or Geoffrey's; different authorities give different spellings) where a malefactor named Jeffrey or Geoffrey or Geffray or Geffroy was supposedly condemned to death and thrown off the rocks; the story is that he landed in the water, survived, boasted that he could do it again, jumped, hit the rocks that time, and died. Geoff took a picture of the site marker but did not replicate his namesake's foolhardiness.


And that only gets me halfway through today, but it's six-thirty and we have to go to dinner because we have to get up at crack of dawn tomorrow for the ferry. So I will continue this later...

some good things

Thu, May. 14th, 2026 11:47 pm
kaberett: Trans symbol with Swiss Army knife tools at other positions around the central circle. (Default)
[personal profile] kaberett
  1. successfully bought a leek. spent several whole minutes with reduced bad brain. (local combo of prodrome and therapy hangover, I think, not anything persistent or concerning.)
  2. the delay arising from the combination of Difficulty Leaving The House and Emotional Support Leek worked out just fine; we still made it to the wiggles household only a little behind human #1 and very slightly ahead of humans #2 and 3, and still in time for A to sequester themself for Union Meeting. hurrah for things working out.
  3. it has rained on the plants (hurray!) and mostly not on me (also hurray!).
  4. sweet potato slips have perked right back up after being put in a glass of water this morning (having failed to manage to get them in same last night).
  5. orchid continues flowering exuberantly. only three of them but my goodness they are staying.
  6. some fantastic rainbows on way to wiggles; ditto clouds-fraying-into-rain.

I am so so so sleepy

Thu, May. 14th, 2026 05:30 pm
the_shoshanna: my boy kitty (Default)
[personal profile] the_shoshanna
Took a sleep aid last night, slept pretty well but not long enough. Today we went to the zoo, saw gorillas and capybaras and poison frogs and ducks and cranes and skinks and many other things, but sadly did not see giant otters or tamarins or a few other things that were apparently hanging out in inaccessible parts of their enclosures. Then we came home and I have been struggling mightily to stay awake because if I nap I'll probably just screw my sleep schedule even worse (and we have to be fully packed and out the door at 6:45 am the day after tomorrow to catch a ferry to Guernsey). We may just blow off dinner. I may fall asleep while typing this.
duskpeterson: The lowercased letters D and P, joined together (Default)
[personal profile] duskpeterson

Apprehension of the Ambassador


ONLINE E-BOOK (html, epub, mobi, pdf, and xhtml)

Free at my website.


The Motley Crew (The Thousand Nations). When a young man named Dolan flees from the north, he faces danger on all sides. The Northern Army wants him back. The Empire of Emor wants him dead. His native homeland of Koretia may not want him at all. And his only protection is a man with motives that are mysterious and possibly deadly.

New installments:

4 | Apprehension of the Ambassador. A border crossing gone awry turns an escape into a new realm of danger.

Historical Note. [The historical note appears at the end of the omnibus, after the side stories.]


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