Impulsively Reading Since...

I’ve been meaning to put this out into the world for a long, long time, but ideally I wanted to send out an actual picture of it. Still, it just never seemed like a good idea to bring my camera to work and use it to take a picture of the display panel on our main printer (otherwise known as Darth Vader because it is black and flipping huge with multiple output trays and magical stapling abilities [come on, you know the suit had stapling capabilities]) which I am now intimately familiar with in that I have been unjamming the thing multiple times a day for about seven or so years now. I mean, how do you explain that to your co-workers? I need a picture of this grammatical atrocity because I don't think anyone will believe me...yeah, I'm going out to lunch now guys...bye!

{ahem} Due to an alert. The panel be illuminated.

For serious, guys, this is what the printer informs people pretty much all day long. It should drive me up the wall for many reasons, but instead it’s one of those things that right from the get-go I had to accept. There is nothing I can do, there is no tech support I can call which could possibly make the printer stop doing this.

Still, somewhere in the distant past, someone typed that out knowing that those words were going to be taunting office workers for decades to come.

Bitch.

Big plans for baking and getting the next interlude up before the weekend. Saturday is supposed to be nice so I’m contemplating finding something outdoorsy to do. Seriously, what is with the cold this year? I made myself stop wearing my winter coat this morning because otherwise I think I would have just kept doing it out of habit until roundabouts July. I’m blaming the cold for my desire to do nothing but hibernate the past month or so.

eta - sigh - I forgot the baking powder.

in the course of researching a story continue to amaze me.

They've made violin strings from spider silk. Isn't that awesome? My search was completely unrelated but now I'm tempted to write these in somewhere.

Those of you on my flist who may run across this and don't do the sex thing in fic - I'm really sorry. I promise this isn't going to be a regular thing. Also, there is no actual dirty talk in this entry, just talk about how I'm attempting to type some dirty talk.

An hour before I'm obligated to post this thing I'm realizing a couple things. One: I should have stayed closer to my wheelhouse and knocked out a John/Sherlock piece despite my natural disinclination to go there. Two: I need to throw the practicalities out the window. Normally I'm big on covering my ass motivation-wise - explain how and why he went into that room, don't just pop in for no reason. This, however, is not sexy. I'm 1000 words in and they're still fully clothed. Spending the next 500 describing the disrobing isn't really the point. The motivation is that they would like to have sex now please and thank you. End fancy stuff. It's pornography. It exists to be titillating. I've done more than I needed to do by holding off on the porn for almost 1000 words.

I really should have quit when I typed in the joke and couldn't stop snickering...I do, however, feel I am being taught a valuable lesson in writing smut.

and anyone who was looking forward to reading it: I will eventually finish the Person of Interest/Bond/Sherlock/Cabin Pressure story.

Right now, however, I need to narrow my focus. I need to finish this Sherlock epic, I need to start this original story now that I've been inspired by an idea, and I need to write my piece for ACD Holmesfest (which is requiring ridiculous research). *nods* This is what I am going to do. I am not going to start or commit to anything else until I have accomplished these three things.

There - there it is in scary typing - and I was once very wisely advised: trust the scary typing.

Trust the scary typing. = Follow through on the scary typing.

Next interlude will be up soon. Dancing is hot on its heels as I am expecting to experience actual English Country Dancing tomorrow.

Guys, on a related note, I am scarily uncoordinated. I did, once upon a time, take ballet and tap, but clearly I didn't do so long enough to benefit and become graceful in any sense of the word. I'm vaguely considering trying to attempt to remedy this. It would also be nice to try and enforce some regular exercise, so what do we think? Yoga? Pilates? Actual dance lessons of some sort? In the end it will have to be something nearby and ridiculously convenient if there is any chance of my following through. Having to commit to a class would also probably help. Thoughts and advice are very welcome.

I would very much like to post my holmestice story to keep everything tidy, but a last-minute reviewer pointed out that I was using the wrong tense when referring to Mendelssohn's Songs Without Words.

My intention was simply to reference canon when Watson states: That he could play pieces, and difficult pieces, I knew well, because at my request he has played me some of Mendelssohn's Lieder, and other favourites.

But when I look up Songs Without Words in an attempt to make sure I get it right this time the internet is telling me these are piano pieces. Now, certainly, Holmes could still be playing them transcribed for the violin? I've very definitely gone all insecure about it and I'm not quite sure how to proceed.

Suggestions? Assistance?

Erm - right - here's the actual (incorrect) text:

He picked up his violin again and proceeded to play what John now recognized as Mendelssohn’s Leider De Onne Worter. It was a beautiful piece and one of John’s favourites; it reminded him of the first time he’d been woken in the dead of night by Sherlock’s violin.

Simple, right? Together we can fix this, I'm sure! If nothing else, I'm sure pargoletta and I can sort it out tomorrow using her knowledge of music and the power of the internet via my wifi connection. :-)

Oh, on another local Chicago note, I'm always pleased when there is Jeeves in the area and I'll definitely drive out to see this: http://firstfolio.org/plays/jeevestakesabow.php and hope that there isn't snow as there was the last time I saw something there. :-)

We are apparently on the tail edge of the impending - Winter Storm Draco.  What's next?  Hurricane Hermione?

I am now armed with explosive spray-on adhesive. Take that - gods of arts and crafts.

I have decided to make applesauce in the cute, teeny, nu dalek crock pot. Now I just need to find cinnamon sticks. :-)

Hm.  No clear majority.  For reference, this is the hamper set - don't any of you steal it before I make up my mind!  It's not so much avocado, really, more 60s than 70s, but all the towels I'm looking at for coordination are avacado-ish.  There's a set of really good orange ones which I like.

I'm working with Victorian rhyming riddles for the Much Ado section, and I'm just loving the commentary on this one. Plus, it's about bees, so I have a feeling it will end up in the story proper.

As I was going o'er London bridge,
I met a drove of guinea pigs;
They were nick'd and they were nack'd,
And they were all yellow back'd.

—A swarm of bees; not a very likely family to meet in that neighbourhood, at least nowadays, but some of the authors of these poems seem to have been continually traversing London bridge.