malinaldarose: (Default)
Somehow my brain got on the subject of tattoos this morning. I have been contemplating getting a tattoo (or two) for my 50th birthday. After Fawkes, I had always planned to get another, probably on my left shoulder to balance out Fawkes on my right calf. Wouldn't want to be crooked.

I had always scorned those tattoos based on media symbolism -- I couldn't understand why someone would want Porky Pig permanently on their body -- but Fawkes is actually derived from a medallion worn by a character in a '70s TV show (that ran about eight episodes), so...lesson learned. Things that mean something to you mean something to you.

With that in mind, I have for a long time wanted my next tattoo to be some variation of the Seal of Rassilon, perhaps with a starfield or something representing solar winds or some such. I quite like this one, which I ran across only this morning. Difficult for the artist, though, I should think. I also considered getting it in white ink, but I'm not entirely certain about that.

I recently started thinking about other things, and the prophecy poem from The Dark Is Rising popped into my head. (As personally important things go, that's a Big One.) It could be done in any number of fonts, including Circular Gallifreyan and Sindarin (or Quenya). That might be cool.

In any case, it is something that requires a great deal more thought.
malinaldarose: (fawkes)
Today was it. The deadline for end-of-the-month work. I will not be going to work early tomorrow, nor staying late. I am so very tired. I started working on a case at about 3:30 that only needed letters. It took me an hour to do two letters, because each letter had two columns of figures to type in and then I realized that I had misbudgeted the Social Security benefit for January, so had to redo the budget, then I had to call the nursing home to find out which facility the client was actually in, and while she had me on the phone, the nursing home person had several questions she wanted answered, and by this time, it was already after 4:00, which is when I'm supposed to leave....

Did I mention that I'm tired?

My Twin keeps reminding me that she got in trouble for putting in unpaid overtime, but the work has to get done. She actually got a letter in her personnel file because she was going in extra. Of course, she was there on a Saturday with a few other people when the department head happened to stroll in.... Now we can't get in on Saturdays because HR disables our swipe cards after a certain hour.

Anyway, as Last Day, today was not the best day to have our holiday luncheon(s) (as every unit did their own thing this year), but it was still nice. My unit had beef on weck, a variety of salads and desserts like crazy. We had so many desserts, in fact, that there is still three-quarters of a bag of my cookies sitting there for tomorrow. My cookies don't normally last until mid-morning break. We all sat down together and passed things up and down the tables, and it was kind of nice. Probably nicer than my family Christmas dinner will be, anyway.

My Twin and I exchanged gifts, as we do every year. She clearly found my wish list as she gave me a how-to book on illuminated capitals that no one else would have had any idea about. It's a gorgeous book and makes me want to get my living room finished, so I can get my craft/writing desk set up again. I miss having it.

Ye gods and little fishhooks. Did I mention that I'm tired? Really tired.

It's raining, and when I took my laundry up to my bedroom to put it away, I found that my roof has been leaking around the bathroom vent pipe again. The previously stained ceiling tile now has a larger stain, which, I found, upon touching it, is wet. I'm too tired to care, right now, though. Which is probably a good thing because it means I'm not going to sit on the floor and cry. I'll have to see if I can wheedle Friend P into bringing the tar bucket back down and slapping another coat of tar onto it.

Also? There was a spider on the wall, which I had better not find under my pillow when I go to bed. (Yes, that has happened before; I picked up my pillow to fluff it and a spider ran out from under it. There was much shrieking.)

Merlin, who used to be so good about letting me pill him, has apparently had enough. When he hears the pill bottle rattle now, he heads for the hills. Or the basement. Unfortunately for him, I caught him this afternoon. I should go put the pills into something that will rattle less. A baggy would probably do the trick. It's not like I actually need the label on the bottle after all this time. I have two lovely scratches on my forearm from where he found purchase with his hind claws. Didn't matter. He still got his dose. I determined when he first started having this problem that if I could sit through getting a tattoo, I could manage to pill the damned cat.

Fawkes, by the way, is now three years old, and I have determined that my next tattoo (if I ever get another) will be the Seal of Rassilon on my left shoulder, to sort of balance out Fawkes on my right calf.

Now, though...I think I'm going to pop some popcorn and see if there's something on the tube to stare at until bedtime, because I think I'm too tired to even read.

Have I mentioned that I'm tired?
malinaldarose: (fawkes)
I am really surprised, given all the reasons people find to bring food into the office, that we aren't celebrating Cinco de Mayo. I wouldn't really expect to celebrate Star Wars Day, not with this crowd. Not many sci fi fans in the agency -- wrong demographic.

I am wearing short pants of an indeterminate length. They're not shorts, precisely, but they're not pedal-pushers, clamdiggers, highwaters, or capris, either. I don't think, anyway. The hem falls just above Fawks, so he's been getting a lot of attention today. Some people are exclaiming that they didn't know that I had a tattoo...even though I'm pretty sure they've seen him before. Granted, it's been a long time since I bared that part of my leg at work, but still. Short memory, much?

I spoke with Dr. M this morning. She's reasonably sure that Deuce doesn't have an infection because the dye they use is iodine-based, but she's willing to give me antibiotics if I want. She says that since they rely on blood in the urine as an indicator of a UTI, taking a sample now is going to be pretty much meaningless. I didn't ask about culture and sensitivity, which I know is what they do with human samples; it's probably something that they'd have to send out, anyway. Besides, she said that there's always bacteria in a dog's urine sample, and I can see that, since the few I've taken have been stepped in, despite my care. So we're going to try her on an herbal remedy that promotes clotting to see if we can get the tumor to stop bleeding. (One of the interesting things about my vet practice is that they do practice some alternative medicine there.)

Deuce, in the meantime, is remarkably cheerful about the whole thing. She's not crazy about being confined to the kitchen, so we've been spending large chunks of the evenings this week outside. My next project will be to see how much extraneous fur I can get out of her (the Furminator simply doesn't work on her and brushes just skate over her topcoat), and trim around her hindquarters so that I can see about fitting her with a diaper or possibly Depends, so that she can be in the rest of the house -- because even when she's not peeing, she's been spotting. Jeez. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was in heat.

This noon, as I whistled them in, she bounced on Sheila and initiated play that probably would've gone on for a few minutes, had they not both been near the door and ready to hop inside. So she's doing well, all things considered.

Sheila is not coping as well as I would like; she has been anxiety chewing. She got some of the D&D modules that I had set aside for eBay, and yesterday I came home to find a book had been chewed to death. Fortunately, it wasn't a book of great significance. She and Cruiser have now been banned from my office when I'm not in it (and sometimes when I am). And, yes, I'm reasonably certain it's Sheila doing the chewing, not Cruiser. I'm considering getting some stuffed animals for them to chew on, if I can find some that don't have squeakers in them. On the other hand, given that they eat what they chew, it might be better not.

I, in the meantime, have been spending money like water and I have. Got. To. Stop. I've ordered the three seasons of Buffy and season of Angel that I didn't yet own. I've ordered movies and boxed sets from Columbia House. I've ordered books and graphic novels. And, of course, I paid the vet bill from last week in full.

Tonight, I have to run out to the vet's office to pick up that prescription, then there's Weight Watchers, though I'm not sure how I'm going to work that. I'm going to the later meeting and there's probably just enough time between getting back into town from the vet's office and the meeting that I don't want to spend it sitting around the church, but not quite enough to go home and clean up the mess that there will undoubtedly be in the kitchen. I suppose I could always wait at the church in the lounge (not the meeting room) with a book.
malinaldarose: (Default)
Ladies and Gentlemen, please allow me to introduce Fawkes, No Longer Nekkid: Read more... )
malinaldarose: (emma xmas lobster)
Fawkes is no longer nekkid, and I survived the experience. Didn't even need to take a break this time, though I think I started shaking sooner. There was another guy there getting drawn on preparatory to getting tattooed and apparently, he's getting something quite extensive because the drawing process had taken quite some time and the blackwork alone was expected to take four hours. Eeep.

Anyway. The guys were really stoked about the cookies -- I hope they enjoy them. The health department inspector was there when I got there, and I have to admit that when I saw his car parked in the bar next door's parking lot, I at first thought he was having an early...lunch. I'll have to wander over to DoH on Monday and show him the finished product -- they called him over to see the process, mostly I think because they wanted to see the poor guy turn green.

I had nothing really to distract me this time; on the TV was a program on...tattooing. Not really what I wanted to watch. But there were parts of it that showed the tattooists painting, so I watched those bits.

I did stop at Penney's on my way home and three sweaters jumped in a bag and followed me home. I guess I'll have to wear them.

Anyway. There will be a picture after I figure out what to have for lunch and take the bandage off.

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