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In neutral American dialect, "Senate" sounds almost exactly like "Cynic".
Modem still not working.
I begin to feel like Aragorn; perhaps I should vow not to wash my hair until-- oh, wait, I do that anyway.
Ahem. Went quilting at church this morning. You don't know the meaning of "worked your fingers to the bone" until you've spent hours laboring over a sharp needle without a thimble. What with that and hand-stitching several gifts at home, my sewing calluses were outclassed; my fingertips feel like raw meat. Mom and I tied seven quilts while Nellie sewed three backs to fronts and Helen and Mary ripped the hems out of donated sheets that will become quilt backs. The quilts go to refugees by way of LWR; we make something approaching 150 a year. Helping makes me feel at least slightly useful. Plus it's fun listening to the old ladies share their wisdom and tell tales of man-eating toilets and tease Mom about her hot flashes. (This and flirting with the old men at the nursing home is my summer social round.)
I *had* meant to update before now; but I have books. I've been reading Brother Cadfael, and The Handmaid's Tale, and some old Heinlein juveniles I hadn't touched for years, and cyberpunk from the library, and quite a lot of non-fiction. Also my physiological response to forty days and nights of rain is apparently to sleep sixteen hours a day. And I've been drawing, and going through old papers. Oh, and writing.
Y'know,this might even count as S/M S&M . . . if you squint *really* hard . . .
The scruffy lantern-eyed cat stalked out of Filch's with an offended twitch in her tail, followed shortly thereafter by a frantic tabby, to the sounds of masculine protest.
The tabby cornered the other down the hall, visibly nervous. "You won't-- you won't tell Argus, will you?"
The skinny cat licked herself contemptously before answering. "Who a queen chooses to mate with is her own business. But *really*. Couldn't you at least try to live up to your felinity?"
The tabby ruffled herself, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. We honestly didn't know you were there, Mrs. Norris. I can't hear or smell very well as I -- usually am. And you were well-hidden, to human eyes."
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Professor. If you're going to rut on another queen's territory, it's only common courtesy to switch to your superior form and ask permission." She forestalled the professor's protest with a patronizing flip of the tail. "But as it happens, that wasn't what I meant. I was referring to your execrable taste in toms. All those young, randy males in your pride, and you choose that one? Does he ever groom his fur?"
The tabby curled her tail defensively around her feet and narrowed her eyes. "He can't help it, it grows that way. Better greasy than scruffy, anyway. Not that you're in position to talk; I saw you with that Cruikshanks your last time-of-month. Really, he resembles an old carpet; I know anything must look good after Argus, but--"
"Ohh, you've gone too far now," she hissed (that phrase is sufficiently sibilant for hissing in Ailurin), claws out.
The professor backed away quickly and crouched submissively. "Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't have said that, I'm a bit out of sorts, you interrupted us at a bad time."
"Well." said Mrs. Norris. "Perhaps." She let her fur settle back down, accepting the excuse. "I suppose I would not be happy, either-- but really, I don't know why you even bother with human men; boringly straight and smooth-- they aren't even barbed! I've looked!"
"Um." said the professor. "Perhaps I should say that I prefer prickly personalities, and leave it at that. Will you just promise me, queen's honor, not to tell Argus what you saw?"
"I so swear, queen to queen. I wouldn't have told him anyway, you know; there are some things Man is not meant to know. But!" she added, "I won't guarantee his temper if you don't clean, and properly put away, his precious whip and shackles once you've let your tom down."
The tabby's eyes went almost as big as Mrs. Norris's. "Oh god! I left Sev chained up! Sh-- shoot!" She ran back down the corridor full speed.
Maybe most cats can't grin, but the Cheshire Cat could, and Mrs. Norris certainly was.
I am running out of locations for these; I suppose there's always the greenhouses and Hagrid's, but those are so overdone.
Haven't been online much; dropping by e2, and a few can't-miss webcomics, and trying to keep up with my friendslist is about it. Apparently I've missed steal-a-friend week? Well, I've been meaning to add some people for a while; rest assured, new friends, that if I am a day late, yet still I am not a sketchy stalker kid, but merely a sincere admirer, too shy to post in your journals.
by way of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alfedenzo and/or luchito, several old acquaintances from Keenspot boards who keep interesting journals: 'lo woap, maboo (blotto is back? cheer!), eterock.
by way ofblackfall, wired_lizard and other hp people: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
switchknife, for Harry/Argus and consistently excellent taste; narcissam, in hopes that her excellent journal will remind me to read her excellent epic; luminousmarble, just because; greyangel, for egging me on; tarimanveri, for blame and Jedi!McGonagall.
by way ofboondocks and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
nraged: notapipe, for unbiased political updates, and Dean/Kerry slash.
by way oflower_tadfield: daegaer, for biblefic and general goodness.
Friending people is exhausting. More the next time I update. Possibly.
I begin to feel like Aragorn; perhaps I should vow not to wash my hair until-- oh, wait, I do that anyway.
Ahem. Went quilting at church this morning. You don't know the meaning of "worked your fingers to the bone" until you've spent hours laboring over a sharp needle without a thimble. What with that and hand-stitching several gifts at home, my sewing calluses were outclassed; my fingertips feel like raw meat. Mom and I tied seven quilts while Nellie sewed three backs to fronts and Helen and Mary ripped the hems out of donated sheets that will become quilt backs. The quilts go to refugees by way of LWR; we make something approaching 150 a year. Helping makes me feel at least slightly useful. Plus it's fun listening to the old ladies share their wisdom and tell tales of man-eating toilets and tease Mom about her hot flashes. (This and flirting with the old men at the nursing home is my summer social round.)
I *had* meant to update before now; but I have books. I've been reading Brother Cadfael, and The Handmaid's Tale, and some old Heinlein juveniles I hadn't touched for years, and cyberpunk from the library, and quite a lot of non-fiction. Also my physiological response to forty days and nights of rain is apparently to sleep sixteen hours a day. And I've been drawing, and going through old papers. Oh, and writing.
Y'know,this might even count as S/M S&M . . . if you squint *really* hard . . .
The scruffy lantern-eyed cat stalked out of Filch's with an offended twitch in her tail, followed shortly thereafter by a frantic tabby, to the sounds of masculine protest.
The tabby cornered the other down the hall, visibly nervous. "You won't-- you won't tell Argus, will you?"
The skinny cat licked herself contemptously before answering. "Who a queen chooses to mate with is her own business. But *really*. Couldn't you at least try to live up to your felinity?"
The tabby ruffled herself, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. We honestly didn't know you were there, Mrs. Norris. I can't hear or smell very well as I -- usually am. And you were well-hidden, to human eyes."
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Professor. If you're going to rut on another queen's territory, it's only common courtesy to switch to your superior form and ask permission." She forestalled the professor's protest with a patronizing flip of the tail. "But as it happens, that wasn't what I meant. I was referring to your execrable taste in toms. All those young, randy males in your pride, and you choose that one? Does he ever groom his fur?"
The tabby curled her tail defensively around her feet and narrowed her eyes. "He can't help it, it grows that way. Better greasy than scruffy, anyway. Not that you're in position to talk; I saw you with that Cruikshanks your last time-of-month. Really, he resembles an old carpet; I know anything must look good after Argus, but--"
"Ohh, you've gone too far now," she hissed (that phrase is sufficiently sibilant for hissing in Ailurin), claws out.
The professor backed away quickly and crouched submissively. "Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't have said that, I'm a bit out of sorts, you interrupted us at a bad time."
"Well." said Mrs. Norris. "Perhaps." She let her fur settle back down, accepting the excuse. "I suppose I would not be happy, either-- but really, I don't know why you even bother with human men; boringly straight and smooth-- they aren't even barbed! I've looked!"
"Um." said the professor. "Perhaps I should say that I prefer prickly personalities, and leave it at that. Will you just promise me, queen's honor, not to tell Argus what you saw?"
"I so swear, queen to queen. I wouldn't have told him anyway, you know; there are some things Man is not meant to know. But!" she added, "I won't guarantee his temper if you don't clean, and properly put away, his precious whip and shackles once you've let your tom down."
The tabby's eyes went almost as big as Mrs. Norris's. "Oh god! I left Sev chained up! Sh-- shoot!" She ran back down the corridor full speed.
Maybe most cats can't grin, but the Cheshire Cat could, and Mrs. Norris certainly was.
I am running out of locations for these; I suppose there's always the greenhouses and Hagrid's, but those are so overdone.
Haven't been online much; dropping by e2, and a few can't-miss webcomics, and trying to keep up with my friendslist is about it. Apparently I've missed steal-a-friend week? Well, I've been meaning to add some people for a while; rest assured, new friends, that if I am a day late, yet still I am not a sketchy stalker kid, but merely a sincere admirer, too shy to post in your journals.
by way of
alfedenzo and/or luchito, several old acquaintances from Keenspot boards who keep interesting journals: 'lo woap, maboo (blotto is back? cheer!), eterock.by way of
blackfall, wired_lizard and other hp people: switchknife, for Harry/Argus and consistently excellent taste; narcissam, in hopes that her excellent journal will remind me to read her excellent epic; luminousmarble, just because; greyangel, for egging me on; tarimanveri, for blame and Jedi!McGonagall. by way of
boondocks and nraged: notapipe, for unbiased political updates, and Dean/Kerry slash.by way of
lower_tadfield: daegaer, for biblefic and general goodness.Friending people is exhausting. More the next time I update. Possibly.
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Have to get you to come out and play some to add to your social roundings *smile* Back from TX am I!
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And I'm still working on your blamefic. Among other things.
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unbiased
*looks at his political updates*
*cracks up*
*friends, because you listen to WWDTM*
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unbiased
*looks at his political updates*
*cracks up*
Of course it is! *Grin*
Weekend NPR and lj is basically my only exposure to current events these days, minus the occasional late-night ITN. It's terribly bad-citizenish, but trying to listen to the standard outlets is infuriating.
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You don't know the meaning of "worked your fingers to the bone" until you've spent hours laboring over a sharp needle without a thimble.
Ouch. *patpats* I've yet to learn how to properly sew/knit.. it's on my list. That's a nice thing for you to do though.
"Oh god! I left Sev chained up! Sh-- shoot!"
*falls over laughing*
I am running out of locations for these; I suppose there's always the greenhouses and Hagrid's, but those are so overdone.
What about the History of Magic classroom? *thinks, shudders...* Then again, you never really know when Binns will be around..
greyangel, for egging me on;
*bows*
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I'm considering Binns; the only other places I can think of are the library, quidditch rooms, and staff room; but if you trust Fanon, they're too full of students. Hmm, will have to think on this matter.
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Don't underestimate the power of a well-chosen corner deep in the library.
And I would *love* to see some staff room.
Plus, secret passages (Harry's passage to Hogsmeade?), the Three Broomsticks, Dumbledore's office, Moaning Myrtle's bathroom... the possibilities are endless.
*eggs on mercilessly*
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Never even considered the secret passages, though-- evil plot-bunnies-of-Caerbannog breeding! Ahh!
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...Gred and Forge still have the marauder's map.