Rainbow Margay Mage

Welcome to Dandelyon's Worlds!

Welcome to my blog
I'll share my creative life
I hope you share too!

I value friendship and good conversation.  I look forward to talking with you all. 

For the 2014 A-Z challenge, I'm doing ficlets in a new fantasy world, featuring catkin and other fantastic beings.  Here is the A-Z prompt list, with links to the posts as I write them. As I write this, I'm still hoping for prompts for many letters of the alphabet.  Thank you in advance for your questions, prompts, and comments!

You can find links to my flash fiction, to my serialized story, Fireborn, and to my poetry and songs over at my new (under construction) website, www.wyld-dandelyon.com.

You can also find some of my fiction, poetry, worldbuilding, and artwork over at www.tornworld.net, along with the fiction, poetry, world-building, and art of my talented co-creators there.

If you miss my old, long-winded landing page, you can find it and the landing pages for various projects by searching on the "landing" tag.

Thank You to everyone who's supported me
with your comments, nominations, and sponsorships!

I look forward to chatting with all of you!
Creative Joyous Cat

A Song Not Sung

So, I've been participating in filk circles via zoom, and I got tired of seeing my face from below, so I bought one of those simple plastic gadgets for raising a computer higher on a table. They usually advertise them as lap desks for skinny teenagers or school kids, and maybe I could also use it for watching stuff in bed, though not quite as pictured on the box.

But anyway, what I discovered was that if I put my words and chords on a page in landscape mode, it sits on the keyboard really nicely, right below where I want to be looking so I can see the audience reaction when I know a song well enough to process extra input. So I've been going over songs that I want to sing in the open circles and songs I might want to put on the set list for my Philcon concert, and reformatting them to a two-column landscape format.

In the process, I've found songs that I thought I had in digital format, but actually only have on paper (and rectified that for some of them). But I also found a filk I wrote in February 2016, right before the current occupant of the White House started being the Republican front runner. I was very excited about learning to play this song, and spent a significant amount of time figuring out how to play it on guitar.

By this, I mean figuring out how the original artist had played it (more than one way, actually) and making notes about one of those ways, that my short fingers would be able to just manage if I practiced it a lot, and I planned to do that practice, so I could sing both the original and my filk of it. I was excited about it, I remember that now.

But until I found it (without the notes about how to play the guitar part), I'd forgotten completely about it.

awkward fingers spread wide on a guitar neck

I remember 2016, my growing horror about the person so many Republican preferred to the woman some of my friends dismissed as a "boring grandma". I remain horrified that people would vote for such a blatant con man with such terrible morals. The more I learned about him, the more appalled I was, and the more I hated seeing him on the television, hearing the horrible, hateful things he said and all the lies he told. It was and remains traumatic.

And I learned so many good things about Hillary Clinton, and about how the GOP had been spreading lies about her for her whole life. Seeing how the news people treated her like an inconsequential woman even though she'd been Secretary of State and a U.S. Senator, and treating the con man who'd bankrupted multiple businesses as a man of stature, over and over. That was traumatic too.

I remember picking up a needle and thread, mending clothes, sewing dozens of patches on a silk coat that I loved that was falling apart, calming my fears and praying. I remember wanting to crawl into bed and just stay there when November rolled around, but I'd committed to being at Windycon, doing panels and other things, so I got out of bed, packed for the convention, and headed out into the world.

But I don't remember what I was doing with my fingers to start learning to play this song. I know I wrote notes somewhere, and who knows--I may find them someday. But I don't have them now.

There've been other things in the intervening years, house disasters and financial worries and my Mom getting sick (emphysema and lung cancer, too advanced for treatment), and the daily assault of a man who wants all the attention all the time, has no moral compass whatsoever, and who wants to keep the adulation of people who openly espouse racist, sexist, and other equally horrible -ist beliefs. And now Covid-19.

But I've found this song again, and I want to sing it, so I'm back watching you-tube videos of the original artist, staring at his fingers, trying to do stuff my fingers don't know how to do yet. The way I see it, I should've been singing this song for four years now, and I haven't been. I can't undo any part of the past four years (and if it could, I'd use that power for more important things than this), but I can at least get back to working on this song now.

And I will sing it. Not this weekend. Maybe not this month--and with NaNo coming up, maybe not next month either. But one of these days, once I've finished figuring it out and practiced enough that I can do it justice, I will.

This entry was originally posted at https://wyld-dandelyon.dreamwidth.org/456439.html. Be welcome to comment wherever you prefer, but be warned that LJ has not, under the new management, been sending me notifications of comments. I will check LJ periodically, but life being what it is, commenting on DW will likely get you a faster response.
dragon reading

Gardening is Ongoing

So, I’ve been busy outside, pulling weeds, digging and loosening soil, adding compost in places, mixing all the weed clippings into the compost pit to make more compost, and slowly adding the plants I grew inside or seeds to various places.

I got the last of the cucumber seedlings in the ground outside today.

I spent some time digging up day lilies that are crowding our roses (I'll be doing that a lot, if I stay healthy enough, so if anyone local wants day lilies, let me know). (Actually, anyone where it’s reasonable to mail some, day lilies are really hard to kill and would likely survive being tossed in a box unceremoniously.)

I gave away some more tomato seedlings too. I still have a bunch of volunteer tomatoes to give away, and probably a few brandywine or other heirloom tomatoes too. If you're local and interested, let me know. And purple ruffles basil too. (The basil might also survive being mailed; it’s a lovely plant that reliably seeds itself every year.)

I have some pea plants that are flowering, and at least one bean seeding has broken out of the ground, though I have a lot of spots still to weed and plant more of the lovely purple pole beans.

I dug up three tiny rowan trees, because My Angel is sad that we had to cut the last old rowan down. I don’t know if we have an outdoor place to put any of them, so I suggested maybe she could learn to make one of them into a bonsai. We’ll see what she decides to do. (One of them almost looks like a tiny bonsai already; I suspect she mowed it down for a year or three).

I also found two volunteer rose plants in the lawn, one out of the way enough that we’ll probably leave it where it is, and one that I dug up. Two days later, it looks as healthy as it did in the yard, so I’m pretty sure it will survive until we decide where to put it. The volunteers I found in the garden a few years ago are now taller than knee-high and at least one of them has flower buds—we’ll finally get to see what color roses it will grow!

One of the tomatoes that overwintered may not survive being put outside, but the rest are doing well, as are the seedlings I planted outside so far. A different overwintered tomato is already flowering!

My Angel weeded one of the garden plots and planted acorn squash and bush bean seeds. The next morning, one part of that line had been thoroughly dug up, probably by the squirrels. We got out the remaining chicken wire and made a little wire tent over that area, which will remain until we have seedlings and need to put in the tomato cages.

So, we’ve been keeping busy outside. I have hopes that we can get a lot done there this year, if we remain healthy, since there won’t be any summer trips or cons to interrupt things.

How’s your garden growing, whether it’s a literal place with plants or something else? This entry was originally posted at https://wyld-dandelyon.dreamwidth.org/455696.html. Be welcome to comment wherever you prefer, but be warned that LJ has not, under the new management, been sending me notifications of comments. I will check LJ periodically, but life being what it is, commenting on DW will likely get you a faster response.
Creative Joyous Cat

Poetry Fishbowl Signal Boost

Today is the YsabetWordsmith's Poetry Fishbowl on the theme "Quiet Revolutions". It is a particularly apt topic, given current events. I'm really looking forward to reading the poems from today's suggestions. This entry was originally posted at https://wyld-dandelyon.dreamwidth.org/455583.html. Be welcome to comment wherever you prefer, but be warned that LJ has not, under the new management, been sending me notifications of comments. I will check LJ periodically, but life being what it is, commenting on DW will likely get you a faster response.
Creative Joyous Cat

It turns out worldwide pandemics are distracting

It's no surprise, of course. Lots of stories are set during or after such things--I even started a novel with that premise long ago. I've no idea where the files are; I'm pretty sure I backed them up to a floppy disk, one of the smaller newfangled ones. Of course, I have no way to read floppy disks any more, and the last time I looked at it, I decided to pursue other projects.

It's a lot less troubling to contemplate fictional characters having to live (or die) of a flu-like disease that changes everything, either for a little while or forever. I watch the news, hoping for better news, even though I know better.

I've had allergies and asthma since puberty; every time someone I shared office space with got sick, I did too. I've been railing against the social rules that people should work when they're sick instead of staying home and not sharing their germs my whole life, and predicting that a severe virus would be a worldwide personal and economic cataclysm for just as long.

Now, I'm amazed that I'm not among the first sick. And yet, here I am, taking my asthma medicine religiously, and having trouble focusing on, well, everything. And sewing face masks for me and my partner. When I find the sewing machine, I'll make some to donate. A friend of mine linked me to a local hospital's preferred pattern and materials, and where to drop them off once I've made them.

But in the meantime, I pray you all are well and have enough money to survive through this disaster.

And look online for live music. There's an amazing lot of it, live filking on zoom, artists doing concerts or a handful of songs, often via Facebook Live. I always feel so much better after seeing smiling faces at the open filks. It's led me to give big smiles to neighbors when I see them at a distance, hoping to lift their spirits in a like manner.

This entry was originally posted at https://wyld-dandelyon.dreamwidth.org/455322.html. Be welcome to comment wherever you prefer, but be warned that LJ has not, under the new management, been sending me notifications of comments. I will check LJ periodically, but life being what it is, commenting on DW will likely get you a faster response.
Creative Joyous Cat


It's been a while since I posted much. A tiny part of that is that when I've been short on spoons, I have prioritized posting to my patreon. A major part of that is that I've been very short on spoons and time.

Two Octobers ago, the very old siding started falling off the housee at about the same time as my house insurance company demanded some minor roof repairs if I was to keep my policy. That was confusing and stressful as the insurance company sent the money back and once the repairs were done I had to make calls and run around making sure they got their money back in time to keep the insurance. The siding issue was expected; we'd been patching with the leftovers stored in the basement for as long as I've owned the house, and I would not be surprised to learn that the previous owners had been doing that too. There was a spot on an outer wall that clearly had a window when the siding first went up, that had been turned into wall with a neat but obvious siding patch over it.

That November, I found out that a stock fund my Aunt had reached a deadline, and it had to be sold and the proceeds sent to me. Naturally, that year it had made a substantial profit, which screwed up my Obamacare health plan and had substantial tax consequences. This was confusing and stressful, but it also meant I had some money to get the siding redone, and a few other things. Having the siding done was stressful too, as there was damage to the walls in places that had to be fixed, and that was more cost as we found the areas with problems.

It was also stressful because it meant a lot of mornings when people were banging on the outside of the house for hours, unsettling the cats and disrupting our sleep. (We both are natural night owls.) I had a couple of other things repaired--bits of the porch roof/upper porch deck needed work, for instance, and two of the panels in the back door had split across, letting the wind blow through in winter, so we got a new door. They don't make doors the size this one was, so there was reframing to do as well. And I put in a window where it had been before.

But I was tired and distracted and all of this raised dust and the allergies were bad. I don't want to go through it all, but I felt like I was on a treadmill. And I was happy with the results, and with the people doing the work. It's not easy finding people willing to work on my roof, so when winter came around and they asked if there were any indoor things I wanted done, I agreed to having them do some ceiling repairs in four different rooms.

So we moved stuff out of the kitchen, the front hall, the front vestibule, and to a lesser extent a small sunroom off the dining room. This created chaos and clutter in other rooms. My washing machine broke while I was dealing with a huge amount of plaster dust from these repairs, and it was right then that I got word that my mother was sick enough to "not want to be alone". She moved to the west coast to be a hermit, so this was alarming. And I had to do taxes. And then they discovered that what I had thought would be a small patch in the sunroom had to be expanded substantially because there was mold in the ceiling plaster behind a layer of wallpaper. Plain normal mold, not the nasty black stuff, but I'm allergic to plain ordinary mold, so that was a very unhappy discovery.

We moved things in a hurry into the already crowded dining room. They promised to seal off the bookshelves in that back room and to seal it from the dining room and the rest of the house--and they tried, but failed. All the stuff in the dining room and bathroom ended up with a dusting of moldy plaster dust, just when my washing machine was broken. Including all the clean towels, which were then not clean at all, and I desperately needed to clean that dust off of myself.

I survived somehow, did my taxes, and got on a plane to Oregon to help sort out what was up with my mother. Eventually, we learned she had emphysema (long standing and her doctor had apparently not told her about it) and lung cancer. The cancer was inoperable and too advanced for chemotherapy, and her blood pressure had been too fragile for years for airplanes. We ended up gathering up her and her remaining cats and driving across country to get her to Chicago, installing her in a room she had lived in for a while some years ago.

My sister tried hiring a nurse to be with her overnight, but the very nice woman couldn't resist cleaning things, which Mom was not happy with, so I ended up moving in to my sister's house where I read or wrote all night and slept during the day. The work on my house mostly stopped. Some of the stuff in the dining room got cleaned while I was gone, but not all of it. In time (too soon for us and, I think, not soon enough to suit Mom, who didn't want to leave us, but there was no stopping it and dying slowly has never appealed to her), Mom died and we did the things one must do to honor her and each other.

And I returned home to a list of details unfinished and things jumbled into crowded chaos in the rooms that weren't essentially construction zones. Somehow in the room they'd taken all the plaster out of and put in new walls and ceiling, they'd broken a windowsill. And other things. Slowly, I got things done. I put in my garden, important both for my mental health and for fresh tomatoes and herbs. I prepared for Worldcon in Ireland--I'd already paid for it, I figured, so I might as well enjoy it.

And I did enjoy it, though the week of writing and sightseeing time I'd scheduled turned into more of a silent retreat than a writing one. I needed time to de-stress and to heal. I returned, again, to chaos and things undone, and to water coming in a dining room window. I called the guys who'd put the siding up, assuming that something had gone wrong with that, but no, it was a roof leak, with shingles blown off in a recent storm.

That was the first of two roof leak claims, which led to more expense, since we couldn't just fix the damage caused by the storm, we also had to fix the problems caused by an aged roof, so insurance only covered part of it. We had to wait for the insurance inspector, and make plans. That part of the roof was repaired, and then we had another wind storm. Another claim. Now the dining room had to be emptied, and also the bedroom above it.

The fixed-up rooms look a whole lot better, and we have painted the old cabinet in the dining room that had already been painted, and some of the old wood bookshelves, and soon I should be able to move my Aunt's china back into the dining room and get my kitchen dishes back into the kitchen. And there was other stuff during all this too, like the water heater sprung a leak and had to be replaced.

In short, I have spent more than a year with house things and family things and anger about our current "administration" crowding my head and draining my time and energy, and keeping up with writing was impossible, though I never stopped, doing music was a challenge and sporadic, and writing here? Reading here has been sporadic. Writing here moreso, though there are some cool things over at the patreon, many of which are available to non-patrons, at least for the time being.

And now, of course, there's the novel coronavirus too. Which is not at all a good substitute for a newly-written novel or two, but life is what it is, and I don't get to rewrite it to fix the glaring problems I see.

Which is a very long winded way to say I've missed you all, and I've missed being here, and I'm hoping to be back here more regularly. Oh, and I plan to do a card reading soon. Any preferences as to which decks I should include this time?

This entry was originally posted at https://wyld-dandelyon.dreamwidth.org/454935.html. Be welcome to comment wherever you prefer, but be warned that LJ has not, under the new management, been sending me notifications of comments. I will check LJ periodically, but life being what it is, commenting on DW will likely get you a faster response.
Creative Joyous Cat

Garden Visitors

I took the car back to the dealership because it was drifting to the right and because the tire pressure monitor light was on. I sat there for what seemed like a long time, but that was all right, they had a chair and table that I could set up my computer on and work on the first-pass edits to the cozy mystery.

After that I did some grocery shopping and still got home in time to do some gardening.

The first visitor does not get a photo--it does not deserve a photo, as it dropped "fertilizer" on my arm and new gardening glove before flying off. I wiped off what I could with some dandelion leaves then went in to wash both me and the gloves. Ugh.

The second visitor was a surprise. It came around the neighbor's garage from the alley and walked right up to within a couple of feet of me. I talked to it--I didn't want to surprise it. It walked up, looked at me, and left. Or maybe it was looking at the trash in the neighbor's driveway, to see if there was food to grab.

possum in the driveway, very near

I live in the city; usually possums are much more shy. This one was waddling around in daylight, out in the open, and either not at all afraid of me or convinced the flimsy twine "fence" between us (designed to support peas and beans) was sufficient to protect it from me.

But at least it didn't bomb me with fertilizer!

This entry was originally posted at https://wyld-dandelyon.dreamwidth.org/454757.html. Be welcome to comment wherever you prefer, but be warned that LJ has not, under the new management, been sending me notifications of comments. I will check LJ periodically, but life being what it is, commenting on DW will likely get you a faster response.
Creative Joyous Cat

Mending the Fabric

My mother died unexpectedly about two weeks ago, and I'm not doing very well making new things right now. So I thought I'd share a bit I wrote two years ago, with a picture of part of the jacket I was working on then. This was written and posted on FB May 11, 2016.

soft, bright crazyquilt

A few days ago it was Mother’s Day, and—as is usual on my Facebook these days, because I have friends who care deeply and passionately about our world and the people in it—there was a lot of politics on my wall. One of the things on my wall was a friend (admittedly not a Clinton fan) who expressed horror that Hillary was willing to accept support from Republicans. In her mind, that was proof that Hillary doesn’t share any values with liberals.

And I cringed. This was, after all, Mother’s Day, a day when we all—liberals, conservatives, the apolitical, and people whose politics are best described on some other axis—celebrate our marvelous mothers or console our friends who had the misfortune to be born to mothers who aren’t so marvelous. We all value family, just as we all value warmth when it’s cold. Like today—cold and rainy, prompting me to reach for something warm. I tried a sweater, and it was too scratchy. With all the political uproar, I wanted more comfort than that.

There’s this old silk jacket I have. I bought it at the thrift store years ago even though it was a bit threadbare because the colors—purples and blues and greens—are marvelous and it fits gently around me and it’s so soft and sensual. It feels good, like a warm hug made of rose petals. It was old when I bought it, and now the outer silk is pulling apart in strips and shreds. Periodically, I pick this jacket up and give in to the illogical urge (why not just replace it?) to take satin scraps or shapes cut from old silk shirts and patch the areas that are the most tattered.

I pick it up today and put it on long enough to warm up a little, and rip it some more trying to put my phone into a place that, as it turns out, is not the pocket after all. I look again at my Facebook and see more vitriol against that other mother who hopes to help the world from the big white house in DC, and I take the jacket off again. I cut a bit of purple from a ripped silk sleeve I’ve been using to clean my glasses and start stitching it to the coat, and I feel comforted.

Our social fabric is tattered right now, pulled apart by low income and bigotry and fear. But we can’t just throw it away and buy a new one. Someone has shared a quote showing that Trump thinks he can get the nation through hard times by not paying our debt. I sigh. I so very much don't want to see more things like that, so I switch over to Live Journal on the computer and read a poem where a policeman tries to help a person with superpowers who has PTSD. Then I listen to an interview of Hillary, so I can close that tab on the web browser. I enjoy listening to Hillary when she can actually talk about her hopes for what she can accomplish if she’s President, and it’s easier to sew when I’m listening instead of reading. I reflect that our world is kind of like the poor super-kid in the poem, broken and traumatized and scared.

The bit of purple silk stitched firmly to the sleeve, I go looking to see what I can find that’s suitable to put next to it. Our youngest cat, Nebula, is sleeping in a box of material, and is quite bemused when I pull the box out and dig through things around and under her. She blinks at me, strange human, and I rub her under her chin. I find a scrap of white brocade not much more than an inch wide, and some blue satin and green brocade, and part of a tie whose off-white lining could work. And a hairball. Ugh. I brush the old dried mess into the trash and consign that bit of cloth to the laundry, along with some clothes that will probably be donated.

Then back to my old jacket with safety pins and material. I cut and lay down several more pieces and pin them in place. Some of them will doubtless get moved around as I stitch, but it’s a plan. I thread the needle again and continue. The lovely smooth texture of the silks and brocades calms me. It feels as if each stitch is sending healing energy out into the world, a gentle prayer or bit of kind sympathetic magic to help us all in our quest to make the world a little healthier, a little less ragged, and a little more beautiful.

I use up the thread on my needle and tie it off. Next is a spot where the original fabric is just gone, the rough lining showing through. It reminds me of the places where lies and hatred have hurt me and people I care about, but I smile, because here on this jacket I can fix things. More green, I think, to cover this spot. Green would look good. We could use more green in our politics too, and fewer lies. More kindness and less fear. I pin and I stitch, and I send my good wishes out into the world, and in my head is a line from science fiction that has, contrary to all expectations, become popular culture: “Make it so.”

This entry was originally posted at https://wyld-dandelyon.dreamwidth.org/454611.html. Be welcome to comment wherever you prefer, but be warned that LJ has not, under the new management, been sending me notifications of comments. I will check LJ periodically, but life being what it is, commenting on DW will likely get you a faster response.
Creative Joyous Cat

It's not bad for things to be mysterious

I wrote a bit for patreon, released first to my patrons, but set to become public after a while. Now I'm putting it here because I'd love some conversation about the things I was musing about.

If you want to see things like this or excerpts from works in progress, you could follow (or even properly join) my patreon.


I’ve been reading Tarot cards for a very long time, but the Tarot is still mysterious to me. It seems to work—but how? I’ve done readings for so many people who say the reading was spot-on, people I know, people I don’t, people online and far away. But it’s more than that. I’ve done readings in LARPs and role-playing games too, in character, and the reading proved accurate for the character (and not the player).

A character has no physical presence in the world, except insofar as it is embodied by the player or writer. If one follows the theory that someone’s aura, their physical or mystical presence, somehow interacts with the world, that would imply that characters, even casually created characters that have only been imagined for hours or days, still have a mystical presence that is strong enough to interact with the cards’ mystical presence.

It seems even more mysterious to me when I’m drawing cards for a story, where all the characters are only in my head (or some other writer's head) until words flow through fingertips onto the screen or page. I mean, if even their creator doesn’t know what the plot is or who these imaginary people are, how can the cards possibly interact with their mystical presence?

Yet I get good readings when I use the cards as prompts for stories, or for plot points in a story that’s stuck, and I've also had other people tell me they found readings I gave them were helpful

Doing readings over the internet also means the people I’m interacting with aren’t there to physically interact with the cards. How does this mystical presence thing work when there are hundreds or thousands of miles between the cards and the querant? If it’s a mystical presence thing at all.

Another theory, of course, is that the cards are truly random, and any meaning is created by the human mind. With that theory, it’s easy to explain why the cards work for writing: I’m using the cards to get me thinking, like any other set of prompts. Which doesn’t explain why the cards work better for me than a random plot or random character generator. I suppose that could just be that I’m more inspired by pretty pictures, or that the symbolism on the cards I use works for me.

That theory might explain how I can do accurate (or at least accurate-seeming) readings in person for people I know. My mind can, in theory, create meaning because I know the querant or because I can read their reactions as I talk.

It’s not a convincing explanation for how I personally do readings in person for strangers, especially since I’m not particularly good at picking up on body language, and when I started doing readings (and having them pronounced accurate) I was pretty abysmal at it. Not the cards, I was abysmal at reading people. That theory also doesn’t explain how I can do accurate readings for strangers over the internet.

Like I said, it’s mysterious.

The scientist in me is frustrated by the lack of explanations. The mystic in me, however, finds the lack of explanation, the fundamental mystery of it, quite satisfying. It says to the rest of me that we are finite beings in an infinite world. There should be things we don’t understand.

My approach to fantasy is like that too. The scientist in me wants to understand how magic works, and why, and for it to be predictable. But still, when reading or writing, I’m more drawn to the mysterious, the unexplained, sometimes even the unexplainable. Maybe especially the unexplainable. I find magic in stories most satisfying when there’s a lot of wonder, and very little “game mechanics.” Or to put it another way, when it feels magical.

And never mind that that other side of me never stops trying to find the explanations. Or maybe that’s a part of the attraction? Here’s a thing I don’t know yet. How can I not want to get to know it better, to find it in the wild (even if just in the wilds of my own imagination) and try to tame it?

Is it a kitten or a lion cub or something totally unexpected? With time, persistence, and patience, perhaps I’ll find out.

This entry was originally posted at https://wyld-dandelyon.dreamwidth.org/454177.html. Be welcome to comment wherever you prefer, but be warned that LJ has not, under the new management, been sending me notifications of comments. I will check LJ periodically, but life being what it is, commenting on DW will likely get you a faster response.
Creative Joyous Cat

Home Matters

So, life has been busy. I’ll try to post about October later, but for the moment, I thought I’d natter about this week. Or at least one part of this week, that being house stuff.

I’ve been waiting for the weather to be dry enough and calm enough (in terms of wind) to get my roof repaired. The first snow of the season made it Very Clear that I needed to get part of the wall repaired too. This is not good for my budget, but the repairs will indeed be good for my house, even if it will have something of a patchwork look—I don’t have enough of the old siding to cover the repairs, so they’re putting new siding on the walls they are repairing. I’m not sure when we can do the rest of the house; I’ll have to consult the budget and it seems likely that the weather wouldn’t cooperate for redoing the whole thing anyway.

While I was waiting, and writing at the kitchen table (sometimes a change of scenery is good for the writing), I got tired of looking at a kitchen window where the top has persistently refused to be closeable—you know, the old double-hung windows, designed so you can open the top for air flow in the summer? I’d hoped a little stubborn insistence and careful application of brute force on my part would let me close it up for the winter but no. Someone in this house’s past had painted it in place, down more than an inch on one side and less than an inch on the other. Yes, they painted it not-shut crooked.

So I’ve been taking the window apart and repairing plaster and trying to get that corner of the kitchen ready for paint, and also doing stuff like painting bits of wood in my kitchen so repairs outside will have paint that doesn’t slough off because it froze instead of sealing to the wood. And today I have the old mailbox inside, for sanding and painting, so it can be re-hung over the new siding without looking rusty and disgusting.

I guess it’s like editing a story—the bones are good, but there are bits that have to go, and bits that just need fixing up. And it always seems to take more time and futzing than you expected. It’s also good to have friends who can help. A friend came by today to show me how to wiggle the wood to get that top window, which I’d finally gotten to move, out of the casing altogether so we can re-do the glazing compound and be assured the glass won’t fall out some cold, windy day.

Also, thank goodness for storm windows. I get to do all this and stay warm in the kitchen.

So, have you had home-repair, decorating, or organizing challenges lately?

This entry was originally posted at https://wyld-dandelyon.dreamwidth.org/454068.html. Be welcome to comment wherever you prefer, but be warned that LJ has not, under the new management, been sending me notifications of comments. I will check LJ periodically, but life being what it is, commenting on DW will likely get you a faster response.