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Q
29 January 2015 @ 01:04 pm
As of 28 November 2007, this LJ is now primarily friends-locked. If you've encountered me elsewhere and think, for some strange reason, that friending me would do positive things for your life, please comment here. If you write reasonably well (by which I mean you've more or less mastered basic stuff such as spelling, grammar, paragraphing, and punctuation - requiring poesy or eloquence would force me to throw stones through the walls of my own glass house) and aren't an asshole, I'll quite likely add you.

Danke schoen.
 
 
dance floor du jour: work work work work work work.
aspect/attribute: energeticenergetic
the soundtrack of my mind: nada du tout
 
 
Q
27 October 2013 @ 06:05 pm
I'd intended an eloquent post here, but I ain't got no eloquence today, so I'll just let you know: with y'all's invaluable help, I've raised almost a thousand dollars for Alzheimer's research.*

I thank you. The sistergirl thanks you. La Mama thanks you. So does everyone else anyone has ever lost to this damn disease - and everyone who may yet lose a loved one thus.

Mille grazie.

Q at the Workville Walk to End Alzheimer's, 26 October 2013



(If you haven't donated and wish to, there's still plenty of time. Get thee hence and do so. Then email me at keeyoo at gmail dot com with your snailmail addy and I'll send you a purple sQarf.)

*(That amount includes the result of my selling twenty sqarves at the walk itself, which sum hasn't yet been credited to my account by the Walk organizers.)
 
 
dance floor du jour: desk chair without cat hair
aspect/attribute: tiredtired
the soundtrack of my mind: La Mama OST
 
 
Q
Two weeks ago tomorrow, standing in a rural Virginia courthouse in blue pinstripes and the staid black pumps that pass for my court heels these days, I lost the thread of my argument in the thicket of a sudden thought: "My mother died five years ago today."

Five years ago that day. 10 October 2008. A Friday. I remember the come-home-now email I got that Tuesday from the sistergirl's friend K, who knew I never answered my cell phone. I remember the last client I talked to through silent tears the afternoon I left for FamilyTown, trying to help them keep their housing as my heart's shelter crumbled. I remember the ABIL, the sistergirl's then-just-a-year husband, bringing us Subway sandwiches as we stood in the doorway of Mom's bedroom and watched her barely breathe and then throwing a fit that night when he didn't get thanked profusely enough. I remember cropping PDF scans of fifty-, sixty-, seventy-year-old photos on my laptop propped on Mom's caretaker J's kitchen counter, evening up edges and preserving Kodak borders as though the project before me was an academic exercise instead of a history of love.

I remember the soft cream shawl I made those last three days of La Mama's life with us, crocheted of a pretty slubby yarn MMWD had sent me earlier that year, all scallops and swoop and just a little dainty feminine fringe. I spread it over the quilt covering her legs the Friday morning she died, and I sent it into the fire with what she left behind when she moved on.

I remember these things. They hurt like hell. But I'd rather have the pain and the memories than risk losing either to what killed my mother: to Alzheimer's disease.

So this Saturday, for the fourth year in a row, I'll be volunteering at and traipsing the route of the Walk to End Alzheimer's here in Workville. And in support of that endeavor, I hereby make the same promise tonight, in honor and memory of La Mama, that I made this past spring in a similar context:

Donate any amount to the Walk to End Alzheimer's via this link right here and I'll send you a fabulous purple sQarf (illustrative examples here).

Just click the link to donate, email me at keeyoo at gmail dot com with your snailmail address, and you'll be ensQarfed by Thanksgiving.

I'm walking solo this year, but I'll be carrying you with me in gratitude and love.

Mille grazie.


(Relatedly: If you donated to the MS Walk at my request earlier this year and are wondering about the whereabouts of the fabulous orange sqarf you should have received from me in return: it's sitting atop a pile of packing envelopes in my living room with its sistren and brethren, wondering rather irritably why it hasn't met you yet. If that applies to you, (1) my heartiest apologies; (2) please re-send me your snailmail address via the email address above and I'll get an orange sqarf out to you by Thanksgiving as well.)
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dance floor du jour: desk chair without cat hair
aspect/attribute: tiredtired
 
 
Q
1) I worked fifty hours more than required in August. FIFTY. Five. Zero. I took all or part of four days off without putting in for leave, and I still worked that much over. (I'm salaried.)

2) I put in 14 hours of work this past weekend, including all functional hours of Sunday ...

3) ... and then came in this morning to discover from my friend Z, our intake paralegal, that my boss had changed the way we evaluate family-law cases so that many, many more could conceivably come flooding through our door, because he doesn't feel we're helping enough people.

Which, of course, we aren't. (Remainder redacted for Spuffy's sake.)Collapse )

For the record, for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, I am the attorney in the office who handles the bulk of the family-law cases we keep in-house. And yet, somehow I had no idea the floodgates were about to be opened until Z thoughtfully gave me an update.

... yeah, I (still) got nothin'.

4) I ran a report over the weekend against our client/time database comparing my case-closure rate with those of my two full-time colleagues. In my coming-up-on-seven years, I've closed two hundred and fifty more cases than my supervising attorney - who started three weeks before I did - and over three hundred more cases than my other full-time colleague. And that does not count the two hundred family-law cases that I don't get credit for closing because I filtered them to our pro bono network - as my boss desired - rather than handling them in-house.

I don't even know what to DO with that.

5) My damn right elbow hates where my work desk mousepad is. Also, our coffeemaker is broken. (What, you expected more boring attorney drama? Caffeine deprivation and tendonitis, people: these are the tragedies of our times.)
 
 
dance floor du jour: desk chair without cat hair
aspect/attribute: annoyedannoyed
the soundtrack of my mind: the "ping" of Hangouts
 
 
Q
15 September 2013 @ 06:48 am
Five things about me this morning:

1) I woke up at 5:50 am. (This? Is not standard Q behavior.)

2) I'm drinking hot cider. (Thank you, Keurig.)

3) I'm psyched it seems no longer to be air-conditioning weather here in QBurg. (Open windows FTW. [Except for the bedroom one, the screen on which the USS Badger clawed a random escape hole in two years ago and which will not again get opened enough to permit him egress until I have repaired that damage.])

4) I have what I estimate to be six hours of work to do today and probably twice that many makes I'd far rather be working on. (I can't bring myself to characterize my crochet/kumihimo/etc as art, but for some reason "craft" strikes me as belittling - I think because it's the word that's traditionally been used for women's artistic endeavors to suggest they're somehow Less Than. Hence, "makes.") (Also: ask me some time about the reports I ran recently on my firm's client/time database and what they show about the hours I put in and the number of cases I close. Unless you're Spuffyduds, in which case, don't :-).)

5) I'm writing in my online journal/s again for the first time in months. (Hi. Good morning/afternoon/evening. I haven't talked to y'all in some time, but you've all been in my thoughts.)
 
 
dance floor du jour: desk chair without cat hair
aspect/attribute: awakeawake
the soundtrack of my mind: nothing, yet
 
 
Q
12 April 2013 @ 11:52 am
Sorry about the gap in communication, y'all. Life rang my bell in the first round this week, and I had to hit my corner to regroup for a bit.

*ducks back under ropes and takes up fighting position in the center of the ring*

I promise an actual update on me at some point over the next couple of days - probably tomorrow, actually, since I will have been on my feet for a good long while at that point and will need the sit-down-and-rest-the-dogs time.

This, however, is not that update. This is (in my opinionated opinion) a much more important thing. This is a request for assistance - for donations - for help. Not for or to me. For a member of my found family, and for everyone else who struggles with what she has.

See, I have this truly marvelous friend named Nan. I met Nan and her husband a year ago and instantly felt as though I had known them all my life. Nan would take care of the entire world if her arms reached that far, in a way that would be neither patronizing nor martyred but simply, impossibly, kind and compassionate. Instead, she settles for being fabulous to as many people as she can get to over the course of a single lifetime and for taking care of as many of those as will stand still for a little love.

Nan is one of the good ones, you get me?

Nan is also one of the upwards of two million people on this crowded sphere who have multiple sclerosis. She's had it for years. She doesn't care for it much. And she wants it gone - if not for her, then for her kids and her friends and her many, many chosen-family folk.

And I want to help her make it go. Because the world doesn't have so many of the good ones in it that it can afford to lose them, y'know?

So it's like this, cats: donate to the MS Walk in my name, in honor of Nan (and of my feet, which will be walking with Nan and others this Saturday in Rockville, MD)? And I?

Will send you a scarf.

Not just any scarf. An ORANGE scarf. To be more precise, an orange sQarf. Orange for MS; Q for me; adornment for you; and the money for Nan and for everyone else who wrestles with this difficult disease.

I have paid for yarn (every skein of yarn involving orange within a twenty-mile radius, I am looking at YOU); my fingers are paying for labor; I will be shelling out for shipping. All you gotta do is throw any amount of money you can afford (and I do mean any) in the face of multiple sclerosis.

So. If you like and are so inclined, please do the following, for me and for Nan and for any other soldiers in this war that you may know:
  • Check out these photos for pics of the sQarves.
  • Donate what you can here, on my individual MS Walk page (which should remain up and functional after tomorrow's walk, so don't let the timing stop you!).
  • Comment here with your snailmail addy - or, if you don't care for orange (and I join you in that, unless we're talking juice), the snailmail addy of the person you'd like to get your sQarf.
  • Sit back and wait for orange yarny goodness to come your way!

    And thank you all most kindly.
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    dance floor du jour: work
    aspect/attribute: ditzyditzy
    the soundtrack of my mind: FitRadio
     
     
    Q
    05 April 2013 @ 11:30 pm
    Proof positive that when I can make myself actually leave my cave on weekends I'm in town, I am capable of getting a fair amount done: today thus far I have
  • attended my first yoqua class (yeah, I know, but I didn't make up the name) (and by the way, that makes four days in a row on which I've done a modicum of exercise - small goals, small goals);
  • gotten a much-needed oil change;
  • purchased an even more badly needed Bluetooth headset;
  • bought orange yarns of various hues and combinations at the two closest LYSs for a project I will be sharing later today (and probably again tomorrow/Monday, as it's time-sensitive);
  • had my rear tires replaced;
  • and picked up my mail, including the replacement filters for the only water-fountain-purifier-thingy I've yet found that my sheddy cats can't clog into oblivion and the Puffity-cat, whose issues include sight problems and who therefore apparently can't drink water unless it's actually moving because he made it move by dragging its container halfway across the bathroom floor, cannot topple.

    My knees hurt a bit, ngl. My pocket book hurts rather more. But necessary stuff got done, and that's good, no?
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    dance floor du jour: desk chair without cat hair
    aspect/attribute: thirstythirsty
    the soundtrack of my mind: nothing atm; about to be more CSI s4
     
     
    Q
    04 April 2013 @ 09:51 pm
    How this works: You comment, I give you an age (please tell me how old you currently are, to minimize the chances that answering will require time travel) and you fill out the meme questions as they applied to you then and apply to you now.

    [personal profile] cinco gave me 19. EVEN LONGER AGO OMG.

    I lived in:Collapse )

    I drove:Collapse )

    I was in a relationship with:Collapse )

    I feared:Collapse )

    I worked at:Collapse )

    I wanted to be:Collapse )

    This is a really interesting exercise, IMO.
     
     
    dance floor du jour: desk chair of cat hair
    aspect/attribute: calmcalm
    the soundtrack of my mind: CSI Miami 2x09
     
     
    Q
    01 April 2013 @ 08:27 am
    How this works: You comment, I give you an age (please tell me how old you currently are, to minimize the chances that answering will require time travel) and you fill out the meme questions as they applied to you then and apply to you now.

    [personal profile] wordweaverlynn gave me 25. Lordy, but THAT was a while ago.

    I lived in:Collapse )

    I drove:Collapse )

    I was in a relationship with:Collapse )

    I feared:Collapse )

    I worked at:Collapse )

    I wanted to be:Collapse )

    Huh. That was ... interesting. Anyone want to give me another age?
     
     
    dance floor du jour: desk chair without cat hair
    aspect/attribute: thoughtfulthoughtful
    the soundtrack of my mind: CSI Miami 1x...20?
     
     
    Q
    Go, PP&M. My childhood musical heroes keep on keeping on (see: Pete Seeger, Arlo Guthrie, and so on).

    Thanks to [personal profile] brooklinegirl for calling my attention to this.
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    dance floor du jour: desk chair of cat hair
    aspect/attribute: pleasedpleased
    the soundtrack of my mind: Poirot, some season or other