Home of the Snarkmaiden

Mmmm. Hah. Hummhumhrrrrchm. Is this thing on...?

Goodness me, I guess it's been a while now, hasn't it? I imagine I shall never catch up, if catching up is even the right word for documenting my days and discontents over here on the increasingly inappropriately named LiveJournal. But hey, gotta start somewhere, putting one word in front of another. Or rather after. Because writing anything from the last word backwards would be even harder than writing is anyway. So let me not do that.

So what have I been up to, exactly, besides ignoring LJ for months at a time? Well, Hal and I spent a couple of weeks traveling, back in October. A week in Venice, another in Vienna, with side trips in Italy to Vicenza, Bologna, and Ravenna. (Though clearly that ought to be Vologna, just to keep up the theme of Cities with a V in Their Name.) We picked our timing pretty carefully, to optimize for smaller crowds and least chance of aqua alta flooding, but even taking into account our advance planning we had truly stellar luck with the weather, remarkably fine apartments through AirBnB and Hal's keen eye for great accommodations, and in all had a marvelous time. I've been slowly weeding through the Imperial arsetonne of photos I took on the trip, editing and posting them to flickr as I go. Still haven't gotten beyond Venice, though, so there's quite a lot more to go.

While we were in Venice we got temporary transit passes for the vaporetti (water buses) and took extensive advantage of them to get around. Most of the passenger seats on a vaporetto are inside, like on a bus, but if you go all the way through the back passenger cabin there's a set of glass double doors that lead to a few outside seats at the very back. I discovered this on our first morning in Venice and from then on we made sure to snaffle up outside seats whenever there were any free. Never have I enjoyed a finer "back of the bus" experience, and it's ideal for taking lots and lots of pictures of the passing scenery as you get from place to place. Hence part of the reason for the arsetonne of photos -- I had means, motive, and opportunity.



Before we left the country, though, I spent several weeks scrutinizing my options for shoes for the trip. It's funny: I'm not typically a super girly girl, yet the biggest stumbling block for packing light for me is shoes. Will I have the right shoes that "go" with all my outfits and still let me do what all I plan to do? My usual approach is to pack too many pairs to ensure options; not a good strategy for packing light. The problem was made extra knotty in that we were attending the opera in Venice and Vienna, so I needed shoes I could dress "up." Also there was the danger of flooding in Venice (so ideally good to have waterproof footgear), and we expected to do loads of walking in all our destinations. In the end I bought a pair of black Clarks' wedges. Again with spending triple digits on shoes, but my experience with the Ecco sandals I bought for Sasquan suggested that sometimes spending a bundle on really good shoes is worth it, and yes, again, totally worth it. I walked all over Venice, Vicenza, Bologna, Ravenna, and Vienna in those Clarks and they were comfortable and bouncy and supportive right from the very first day. And still work with a little black dress for the opera. Win. They are admittedly not waterproof, but I decided to bet that the risk of aqua alta wasn't very high and skip the galoshes entirely, and that bet paid off too. So yeah, here's me a convert to buying $100 shoes. Go figure.

Oh, there's so much more. And so much I didn't get to -- never once set foot in a Venetian stationery store for some of that insanely beautiful writing paper, fancy wax seals, or any of that. Never did get out to Burano, either. Bought no masks, rode no gondole. And yet it was a good trip, and good fun. And more on that in the next installment.

Prolog(ue): The Fannish Pre-Worldcon Relaxacon - August 14-16, 2015
A Conventional one-shot, authored by many of the same reprobates who brought you Seattle Potlatch and Corflu events. Find us on the web at www.fanac.ninja
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Prologue (noun): (1) a separate introductory section of a literary work; (2) an event or action that leads to another event or situation; (3) a small literary and fannish gathering in the Seattle area before Sasquan, the 73rd World Science Fiction convention, in Spokane.

In the tradition of Corflu, Potlatch, and Precursor, Seattle fandom is hosting a small almost-but-not-quite-actually-because-program relaxacon the weekend before Worldcon. Those interested in flying in to Seattle and driving or taking a train to Spokane can stop off and hang out by the pool or in our well-appointed consuite first. Those wanting an excuse to visit Seattle when the weather is actually decent, whether they plan to attend Sasquan or not, are welcome to join us. There are plans afoot. A dialog about fandom in blog and fanzine form. A local beer/brewery/winery tour before and/or after the convention. Dim sum expeditions. A guided tour of 1) Uwajimaya - purveyors of fine entirely edible uwajimacallits 2)the library that straddles a river 3)the house that Fry built or 4) the fastest route through IKEA? Proof that Renton is actually a lot more interesting than you think, for sure.

Right now until mid-May, attending memberships are only $30 each. Join up now and save ten bucks. Or, if you think you may not be able to attend, but want the fanzine anyhow, send us $15 for a supporting membership and you can convert later.

Want more details? Check 'em out here.

Based on everything I am hearing from my sadly frozen East Coast correspondents, I can be grateful for living in Seattle despite its short, dark days of winter. Here the temperatures will be ranging from lows in the +40s to highs in the +50s all week. Welcome to January. It's gloomy, but at least it's mild.

Had a bit of a trip and fall incident while trying to get to the door of the train yesterday. (Lots of folks with suitcases and other luggage last night for some reason -- makes little sense since the Sounder doesn't go to the airport, and if someone wanted Amtrak they could just as easily take it from King Street Station, where the Sounder originates, as Tacoma, where it ends.) Managed to limp to my car and drive home, but my right ankle was most definitely not happy with the process.

Iced it and elevated it and eventually got it tightly ace-bandaged, and the swelling and pain went down quite a bit over the course of the evening and I can gimp around the house okay, but stairs are tricky and longer walks may be off the table for another while. Tonight after Hal gets home I expect we'll take a little trip to Bellevue to make sure that nothing's broken. (Stupid feature of my current healthcare set-up: there's a doctor's office nearby, which only keeps daylight weekday hours, and there's a hospital nearby if I truly qualify for Emergency services, but Urgent Care? That's in Bellevue or Tacoma. Sigh.)

Anyway, since I have cards and some unknown amount of time with my ankle propped up stretching ahead of me, I thought I'd mention that if you'd like a Christmas card from us, and are not sure if I might have your mailing address, why don't you send me that thing, just to be sure. Thanks!

Hal and I went out to (finally) see The Edge of Tomorrow a while back. It had been enjoying a particularly long engagement at the local second-run multiplex, and while a stfnal movie seemed right, we weren't quite prepared to sit through the length of Interstellar on a week night. Despite starring Tom Cruise, despite a bland title obviously ganked from a post-Flemming Bond movie and repurposed with the serial numbers scrubbed off, and despite some startlingly weak-ass art on the poster, the movie does not suck. The elevator pitch of the story, which can also be gleaned just watching the trailer: Groundhog Day meets Starship Troopers. And within those parameters/expectations, it's a fun flick, with lots to like.

One of the things to like is that Cruise's character does not start out as anyone's idea of a hero. He's an oleaginous, weaseling physical coward who will happily use lies, trickery, or even blackmail to keep himself out of combat. Now, admittedly with Tropic Thunder Cruise had already demonstrated that he's enough of a true actor that he doesn't hold himself above playing characters that will make him look weak, ugly, crass, and awful, but Tropic Thunder was a black comedy, and an ensemble piece. Cruise was not one of the top-billed, above-the-title stars of that particular excursion. Here, he is. He's supposed to be the hero of the piece (and I don't think it spoils a major plot point to say that he eventually will be), but there isn't much to like about the grinning, shucking-and-jiving, high-concept marketing con artist we meet at the beginning of the movie. Cruise is playing a character who will sacrifice all pretense of dignity or nobility to save his own ass. That surprised me, and I have to say I respected Cruise the more for taking the part.

I liked the design of the aliens, and their creepy, flittering movement modes, and the FX in general are workmanlike and effective. The boot camp and training sequences are plausibly gritty and chaotic, and the combat drops somehow manage to be affectingly reminiscent of WW II D-Day beach landings.

The film also cleverly leverages the knowledge that Cruise's character builds up over each successive time loop, and still creates suspense when his decisions force him beyond the safety net of any more do-overs. If you dig sci-fi adventure flicks, it's well worth the four bucks we paid to see it.

When making Swedish pancakes for only one person (however hopeful the dogs), a single egg is quite sufficient to begin the batter. Two is too many, and three is right out.

Also, a week in the pot is just not sustainable for any type of tea. It will have little islands of mold floating in it, even if it isn't flavored with fruit or cinnamon.

Shorter Any Episode of Criminal Minds:

Never mind the bogus physics, we'll solve it with our Amazeballs Pseudoscience!

So I'm still very much getting used to my new phone. This morning while I was loading some songs onto it at my desk, a mama raccoon and her two kits strolled by along the neighbor's driveway, just outside my window. I grabbed up the phone thinking I could catch them before they went by, but the camera was in front-facing mode and while the mama was quite patient about hanging out menacing me on her hind legs and then just watching me perplexedly while I took a series of increasingly unflattering selfies of the underside of my chin, eventually she and the little ones trundled on to do whatever business they were doing in the first place. By the time I figured out which icon switches to the main camera lens again, they were long gone. So here's a picture with no raccoons in it.

And here's my first official cell phone selfie, from a few days ago, which has a lot less chin in it.