I was, perhaps, a little over-eager when I decided that Danzibar had to be hundreds of vnums large. Perhaps. But it is, and it’s taking a lot of work to come together. Still, it’s beautiful, and I can’t imagine it any other way. Illindir’s largest city is just that.

Next Tuesday (well, technically it will be Wednesday) at 2am, Tom and I are going to head out to Conway to spend Thanksgiving with Dani while Gino is off visiting relatives. It will be a chance to relax with friends…and get Fwi all pieced together. It feels like a break, though, because Fwi is so much smaller than Danzibar. After those two are placed neatly into the game, we’ll be building following the Crescent Road around the sea until the whole of the known world is finished.

Most of the time with Dani, though, will be spent eating a Thanksgiving dinner of Asian cuisine and indulging in copious amounts of anime. I cannot wait for the sweet and sour chicken.

In the spirit of the holiday, I give thanks for:

1) Friends, past and present. I am who I am today because of their advice, their understanding, their compassion, and their humor.

2) Illindir. It really is a terrific project, and if it brings as much joy to even one player as it has to me, I will consider it a success.

3) Getting published. It absolutely blew my mind that someone would want to publish something I wrote, even if the whole thing is not-for-profit, and I still have trouble believing they want to publish an article by me REGULARLY.

4) God/s. Believe or don’t, call it/them what you will, but I have never felt completely alone or abandoned, and somehow I always seem to pull through.

5) Tom. He’s shown me that no matter how badly I’ve been hurt, people are still worth taking a risk on. Because sometimes it pays off.

6) My sister. She reminds me of my past, and the good things that were in it. It’s so easy to forget sometimes.

7) Sonya, for showing me how I could be more than myself. She is such an inspiration.

I am, above all, thankful for my life. Mistakes and all. I’ve learned so much, have so much more left to learn, and am looking forward to what another year brings. Hopefully I’ll be a little wiser, a little less prone to anger, and more willing to make compromises than be right.

Prompted to write again by some fantastic news. Tom was talking to “Isky” last night, and was told that CoM would be going back up, with Ken as manager of the game. I could not be more proud of him (if you weren’t around for his stint as staff on M’dhoria, you really missed out).

I’m also glad, of course, that CoM will be back for a repeat performance. Not having it around was a bit like having a part of your past drop off the face of the map, but I suppose it’ll always be like that as long as people attach fond memories to web-based things. Hopefully it will stick around this time (I’m told that depends on how many people log on— time to download MUSHclient again, people!), and not just be here for a holiday viewing, although it’s always fun to hear the gears are grinding again, if only for a brief time. Not a clue as to who’s onboard for staff or what new goodies players are likely to see (maybe a culmination of the old plans to have Seria be the sole city?), but it should be a blast for everyone that decides to stop by. Look for it at least between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Congratulations to Cities of M’dhoria and it’s staff, and welcome back!

The house now has a single cat and a single dog. I convinced Tom that he would be happier with a cat, and so, Korgoth was adopted. He’s a gorgeous little grey-and-white, fluffy kitten with green eyes.

Initially, I was afraid that they wouldn’t get along. More than a few people told me that since Calidrin was a pitbull/mastiff mix (it made me unbelievably angry when they heard “pitbull” and wrote him off immediately as a bad choice of dog, or as stupid or vicious) he would probably try to kill the kitten. At first, he was definitely over-eager to play, but not once did Tom or I notice a hint of viciousness. Really, we were more worried about the cat being nasty to him. More than a few times Korgoth would hiss and attack Calidrin’s face. After a few weeks, however, Korgoth started to play with Calidrin, and learned that if he was done playing all he had to do was jump up high somewhere until the puppy calmed down. Calidrin, in turn, learned to “pull his punches” and treat the kitten as something smaller than he is. He goes at the kitten with an open mouth, but never bites down, and in fact seems overjoyed when the kitten “boxes” him. He is actually more likely to lick Korgoth to death than trample or bite him.

The other day I started to notice the two of them curling up together to sleep. It’s adorable. Tom calls them “butt buddies”…both a comment on their male-to-male affection for one another, and the penchant they have for licking each other clean. *shudders*

For a little bit, I toyed with the idea of getting a second puppy or kitten. But watching the two of them now, I really don’t think it’s neccessary. They’re all the company they need, apart from Tom and I. Besides which, I just don’t see how we’d have the time, money or energy to take care of a third animal. This was really driven home when I found a puppy in the highway a few days ago.

This puppy was clearly a full pitbull, and was about as small as Calidrin had been when we first brought him home. He had almost no hair, being totally overrun with mange, but what little he still had was a cute mix of white with brown spots. It was so sad, you could see every one of his bones, and he cried when he was picked up. He had gorgeous golden eyes, but they had a thick discharge coming from them. I knew he was way beyond my ability to care for. I did, however, take him home and give him lots of food and water, as well as the back yard (a safe place to sleep). Tom took him to an animal shelter the next day.

Calidrin is getting huge (he’s 5 months, and almost the size of a lab), so he’ll probably be eating a bag of dog food a week soon. Thankfully the kitten consumes much less.

I am considering getting fish in the future, after the floors are levelled and redone, but I don’t really regard those as pets for some reason. More like art that needs to be fed and cleaned. I like the idea of simple, brilliantly colored goldfish in a pale, sandy tank. They’re not high-maintenance, are attractive, and tend to be tolerant of colder conditions, which is great because I prefer it cool in the house.

I don’t know why I enjoy pets so much. I guess I always like to have movement and life in a place where I live. I even enjoy plants, but it’s hard to find a plant that thrives in a cool, artificially lit place that won’t kill your pets when they gnaw on it.

My dad was given one of those home-garden kits, though, with the artificial light that allows you to grow tomatoes and whatnot indoors, so maybe I’ll try growing something simple like peppers or catnip for starters.

On the subject of plants, fall is here, and when the leaves finally get around to falling I’m going to take stock of the back and front yard, and see about removing some clutter. I’ll be much less worried about snakes and spiders, then, and can probably get rid of a lot of dead limbs. When spring comes back around, hopefully I can work up the courage to try and plant some bulbs, and maybe even a crepe myrtle or a pomegranate tree. Crepes are nice for color, but I really enjoy a tree that has both form and function, such as fruit and nut trees. There’s something called a strawberry tree that I wouldn’t mind trying.

Finally, on a completely separate ending note…why does it seem like so many of my friends, past and present, are aspiring writers? Some express it in MUDs, others in poems, some in stories, and even a few in rather heated letters to editors. I can’t think of a single person I’ve ever talked to more than a few times, though, that didn’t have a gift for words.

Since I was young, I have preferred to read to myself.  I was not fond of the times people would read aloud in class (mostly because students today are borderline illiterate), I did not like people reading funny e-mails to me when it was just as easy to look over their shoulder…to this day I can barely tolerate having the GPS read me directions.

Neil Gaiman is altogether different. If you haven’t already listened to him read The Graveyard book aloud on his website, I hope you’ll do so now. Turn it on in the background while you play video games, listen to it while you go to sleep (he has a terribly “soothing” voice), or just do what I did and stare at the screen in awe while the man spins his tale.

He is the reason I want to write and the reason I am afraid to. My heartfelt, tardy thanks to Kinsey for introducing him to me.

http://www.mousecircus.com/videotour.aspx?VideoID=16

I heavily suspect that one very large reason why so many people are infatuated with vampires is because they do not use the restroom. In not one vampire mythos have I ever heard of a vampire politely excusing themselves so that they can slip off to tinkle, or complaining that a hobo they ate the night before gave them explosive shits. Not even in the Blade or Underworld movies, and those vampires were just supposed to be genetically enhanced humans. The Underworld vampires could even GIVE BIRTH, but no mention of them needing to use a restroom (or chamber pot, depending on the movie).

No, I take that back. Anne Rice’s vampires seemed to have explosive shits right after they were turned. I think it was described as “flushing out your humanity”, but even then it was presented as a temporary thing.

I’m sure people are in it for the immortality, too. But it must be nice not to have to stand in line at Kroger’s and have people judge you based on how much toilet paper you buy (too much? too little? Is there any such thing as too little?! Not like you can wipe with something else! Maybe….? No, definitely not.).

Tom started his new security guard job last night at Christian Brothers University College, the same place where I work. It’s great for gas, and he works nights towards the end of the week. Just a part time job, but more than enough for us to get by.

It’s Sunday, immediately following the rush that precedes fall classes. I’m going to be working hard, late hours, and from last year I remember coming home and collapsing almost immediately into sleep. In preparation for this, I’m going to try and give the house a deep cleaning today. We’re none of us very tidy, so it’s needed, and it should give me less to worry about later on.

Since Tom is out cold all day, I’ll wait until he wakes up to vacuum, but I’ll be heading off to the store to get some air fresheners and Swiffer supplies. Sadly, my dreams of repainting the furniture will have to wait. I don’t regret it, though, not really. Got a great new purse that was marked down from $200 to just over $20, the absolute last of its kind in the store, and developed a passion for oatmeal cookie body lotion.

Hopefully we’ll be able to get HBO soon. I miss my True Blood with a passion. First, though, it’s time Calidrin got fixed.

Last night the White Devil made his final appearance…under my sister’s bed. He’d jumped his tank (when, I wasn’t certain, but he hadn’t made it into the new house) and I was certain he’d never be seen again.

In his prime, the White Devil consumed an entire tank of neon tetras, several pineapple mollies, and copious amounts of my money as I struggled to replace the fish. Now he’s down the toilet, swimming in the remains of his victims. Justice, I think. Still, he will be missed.

Maybe now I can buy fish and keep them longer than a week...

My mom, after laughing about the circumstances of the White Devils death, asked if Tom and I would swing over early EARLY in the morning and help clean up my grandma’s backyard. Apparently the local hookers and drug dealers have been using it as their own private hang-out since it’s one of the properties that people are rarely over at.

One would not think picking up trash and cutting/hauling limbs would be tiring work, but Tom is currently passed out on the couch. I would be, too, but my urge to watch the Sex and the City seasons before my sister heads back to Conway urges me to stay awake.

Ordinarily, a little yard work would not be enough to send two twenty-somethings looking for a nap. Last night, though, Tom got a great idea: pizza. So, off we went to Little Cesars, home of the $5 pizza that is perfect for people on a budget with the late-night munchies. About halfway there I discovered that I was having a buzz from my single drink (I’m such a cheap drunk), so Tom shooed me out of the drivers seat once we got there and drove us home.

He insisted on showing me the “correct” way to drive, which, amusingly, looks exactly like my way. We even drove on the same side of the road, imagine!

Tom and I are both minimal drinkers, I’ve discovered. Just a few and we’re laughing and feeling great. Tom was even kind enough to model some of my things for me…only my Aspire slipcover, sadly, but we’ll work our way up from there!

Tom decided to take his own picture after we discovered I make satirical comments during poses that send him into giggle fits.

The world is simple when we’re young and still clutching the skirts (jeans, these days) of our mothers, entering into preschool and gradeschool wide-eyed and hesitant. Naptimes are mandatory, our needs are provided for by our parents, and the most challenging thing we have to worry about is a test. Boys/girls, as everyone knew, had cooties and were not to be trusted.

Around twelve or thirteen, the cooties tended to clear up, and we entered the tumultuous world of teenage dating. We were in love with a different person every other week, and dances were suitable occasions to show off our catches to our envious peers.

Entering into adulthood, we discovered, much to our surprise, that the opposite sex (or same, as your preference goes) had thoughts, feelings, and goals of their own quite separate from being seen in our company at a party or out around town. Some of them even made us genuinely smile. If we were lucky, we kept them around and called them “friends”, and in our minds filed them away in sections a few drawers down from “sex” and “marriage”.

So why is it that when we’ve laughed off or accepted the idea that a relationship is never going to happen with this friend, we feel twinges of jealousy when they attract the attention of others? Suddenly we go from sane, rational people to feral jungle cats, marking our territory and clawing out the eyes of anyone that gets too close. We become moody, prone to violent outbursts, and overtly critical of the “intruder”.

This has happened to me. I become irrationally jealous, plot ways to wreak “vengeance” upon both parties, and say things I regret. Twenty minutes later sanity slips back in through a cracked window and I’m desperately trying to patch up a friendship.

How do we let this happen to ourselves? How do we so mix and muddle our friends and lovers that we have trouble differentiating the two? Can we ever really be friends with someone of the opposite sex?

Saturn called back to say what was wrong with the car.

Apparently the thermostat had went out, and the car had gotten confused, thinking it was hot. It flooded my car in a desperate attempt to cool, went dry (but didn’t inform me of any of this because it, much like its owner, was determined to fix the problem itself), and got a cracked radiator.

Repairs are going to cost me close to $700. I think, until I find a car I want enough to trade this one in for, I’m going to start taking my car for frequent “check-ups” to try and nip some of these problems in the bud.

So, I’m making plans to put four new tires on the car, get new spark plugs, get the oil changed, and check my brakes when I bring it in for its next check up. Hopefully this will save me some worry later on.

If it acts sweet to me when I pick it up today, I might even get it some air freshener.

Woke up early today to take Tom and Cassey to a meeting concerning the last week they’ll be working at a mentoring program for Memphis city school kids. When we hit the freeway, my car started the ominous rumbling that, last time, had signalled the death of my map system and other car parts that ran me about $200 in repairs.

The rumblings were minor, I was already in heavy traffic, and I thought “Surely I’ll be able to at least make it to where I’m going. I just won’t let the car idle so it can cut off”. My car anticipated this, however, and decided to stop listening to my gas pedal entirely. We coasted to a stop on the side of the freeway, and my car refused to start again. No engine turning, no noise…save for the cheerful tunes on the radio informing me all was well with my battery.

I went to call my mother to ask for help. I’m not used to my car breaking down on the side of the road. I was delighted to find my cell battery was about to die.

She came to pick us up, and called Saturn to tell them to go and grab my car and fix it. I’m now waiting to see how much this is going to set me back. Really, the credit card company has to be loving me right now. Popular theory is that my timing chain needs to be repaired, but we’re waiting to see what the dealership says. At least this happened BEFORE I started to Conway.

When I got to work (only a half-hour late), I learned that they had shut the air conditioner off (for the third time) for repairs. It’s going to be off all day. I also had to put stickers on 450 + items because their barcodes no longer work. Great fun.