Hi Anne! We've missed you! Good to hear Finn and Eddie are well, if annoying.

Hi Anne!

But...what do you do about the odd cat hair getting on the wet canvas? Is there a special tool for removing it? *g* Give the guys a skritch from me. Is your writing on hiatus? Working on anything right now?

Hello back! I am still knitting, but doing more of the art stuff too. When it comes to cat hair in the paint, resigned acceptance seems to be the way to go. (Also, cat hair in the paint is easier to deal with paint in the cat hair.)

Project-wise, I have a couple of fanfics in the works, but am also noodling with an original idea (post-apocalyptic comedy).

I find myself getting lurkier and lurkier. My darlings, as we watch the world wobble on its axis, let us cling together. Let us sing like sirens and valkyries, let us gird oursleves with fierce gentleness, let us become weary and take rest, let us nourish and strengthen ourselves together for what will come. I have said this before, but it bears repeating:

I say we celebrate. We celebrate every joyful moment that we can bear to. We celebrate each other. We celebrate victories miniscule and galactic. We celebrate our own worth and we celebrate the worth of every member of the human race. We celebrate the effort that somehow came to naught, and we celebrate the moments when everything simply comes together in a constellation of perfection and there is victory. We celebrate, because to give in to despair will leave us no strength to fight. We celebrate in grey dresses and monotone voices. We celebrate in jeweltones and arias. We will celebrate because this might be the Apocalypse and we have learned from Buffy that when we've done fighting this one, there will be another. We will celebrate because this might be Ragnaroc or it might be Armageddon but we will not go down without a fight. We will celebrate because joy only lives intermingled with grief. We will celebrate because every breath is a giant "Fuck you!" to the mundanity of evil.

Oh Andi, I wish I were closer to you geographically so I could hug you for the comfort and support you dole out so freely. Instead I just have to mark the post in my bookmarks to reread from time to time for comfort.

Once the capitalist patriarchy is good and smashed, we can direct more resources into developing that transporter...

Hi Anne! Good to see your pixels. Post-apocalyptic comedy sounds fun.

Lurky McLurkerson here. I'm not busy, just going to bed a lot earlier these days. I've also been reading again. I gave up for awhile because I found print would start strobing on me and it's hard to read in bed with glasses.

I have a job I hate, but don't have any other prospects at my age and lack of easily quantifiable skill, and living where I do.

I don't even have a tv or computer these days. Just 2 little tablets which makes typing a pain, and I only watch stuff online.

I dearly miss the watch and post days, but still love you all, my tribe!

I miss watch and post too. And I also read way more than I post because of keyboard issues. I think posts in my head.

I went from a job I loved, but was really underpaid, to a promotion I sort of hate, but pays me correctly. Since it is in the same school, I am doing like 2/3s of my old job still and trying to disconnect, but excellent customer service is my thing and instructional design is- a thing I can do. But I had thought that at my age there were no new jobs for me either and now it seems like the world is wide open. Maybe because I work in nursing academia, and many of the nurses getting PhDs are in their 60s!

I realized this year that I have a tendency to pick life-changing hobbies in response to horrible world circumstances.

Nah, stay with me here: after 9/11, I found the Buffistas, dumped a shitty career, and took up fencing.

After Tr*mp, I started making music. Immediate triggers were Steve Earle and the Mountain Goats, so we're talking angry fucking music. But it's a place I need to be.

Anyway, I'm still in NC fighting the good fight against the worst fucking legislature in recent (US) memory, slowly burning out on the current job because selling frivolous shit is not why we made the goddamn internet, enjoying the spouse and cats and building guitar #4.

I miss this being a more active place, but I feel like in some ways it's a deeper place -- this is where I come to say the things I can't quite articulate elsewhere, and y'all are always here, and I love you fiercely.