a garden in riotous bloom
Beautiful. Damn hard. Increasingly useful.
Entries tagged with experiences.surprises 
21 February 2016 01:35 - "Amaze and astonish"
rosefox: A comic of a man holding a baby and looking stunned. (baby-wtf)
This has been quite a couple of days for our tiny baby!

Nonstop accomplishments )

Tomorrow friends are visiting and Tuesday is vaccinations, but other than that it should be a pretty quiet week, which is good. I'm not sure how much more of this we can all take--it's all great stuff, but pretty dizzying coming on all at once.
rosefox: An adult and a child lead a group of people fleeing from disaster (long hidden)
Long Hidden is a World Fantasy Award finalist.

I'm sharing an award ballot with Ellen Datlow, one of the greatest SF/F anthologist to ever walk the earth.

*screams*
*faints*

I wasn't going to go to WFC because X will be seven months pregnant by then, but this is a pretty good incentive, and it is only a train ride away this year. So I've put my name on the membership waitlist and booked a hotel room. I'll get the whole nominee experience! How exciting! I'm anxious already!

Honestly, I'd totally forgotten that the WFAs even had an anthology category. Once the Locus Awards were done I figured that was it. So this was a complete shock and I'm still reeling.

On Twitter, [livejournal.com profile] hrj said, "Eventually you'll get used to having your work recognized." But it's entirely possible that Long Hidden is the only anthology that will ever have my name on the cover. It might even be the only book that ever has my name on the cover. Almost everything I do is behind the scenes, professionally and as a volunteer. So being recognized this way is a big, big deal for me, and not likely to happen again, and I'm going to savor every minute.
19 December 2012 18:03 - "CAN HAS"
rosefox: A black cat happily hugs a denim bolster (cat)


Whenever I go to the store and ask [personal profile] xtina what she wants me to get, she always replies, "A kitten." Yesterday I complied.

A couple weeks ago, [twitter.com profile] SPIBaseball and I were walking from my apartment to a restaurant. About a block from home, we passed an apartment building with a fenced-in front garden, and a very friendly cat--a gorgeous tabby with a torn right ear--meowed at us from behind the fence. She came right over and demanded lots of petting and love. In fact, she was so friendly that I went into the building and asked the doorman whether anyone had lost a cat. He said she'd been living in the garden for a week, and he and some residents had been feeding her.

A neighbor popped out and said she'd tried to find someone to adopt the cat but no one would take her. In that entire building! She'd posted pictures to Facebook and emailed friends, with no luck. "Found cat" posters also had no effect.

It's December. December is a nasty time for kitties to be outside, even if they're in cozy gardens and people are feeding them.

I called J and got his approval to foster the cat if we could manage to coax her into a carrier. X's phone was dead, but I know her and kitties and was certain she would have no objection. So I ran home and got one of our carriers and a tin of wet food, and we managed to lure the cat out from behind the fence. She wouldn't go into the carrier on her own, though, and while I did actually manage to scruff her and pick her up, she squirmed away before I could quite get her into the bag. Once she'd run back into the garden she would not come out again, and we couldn't go in because the gate was locked. I left the carrier and my contact info with Chris the doorman and Marjorie the neighbor and asked them to call if they managed to snag the kitty.

Every couple of days I'd stop by; sometimes the cat was there, sometimes not. J got to meet her a time or two. It was wet and cold and we fretted, but Chris assured us she was still meowing every day to demand dinner. We emailed back and forth with Marjorie, giving her cat-catching tips and cheering on her efforts to regain the cat's trust.

Yesterday I went out to the store mid-afternoon, and on the way I spotted the cat. She had been snubbing me since the carrier incident, but now she was all friendly again. I noticed she'd lost weight and worried that she'd been pregnant and then had kittens. I gave her some pettings and made a mental note to get a tin of food for her at the store. "I'll be back in a few minutes," I promised her, since she looked very distraught that I was walking away. "I just need to go shopping first."

Just as I got to the cash register, my phone rang: it was Marjorie telling me she'd caught the cat! I juggled groceries and phone and promised to be right there. The awesome neighborhood pet store is on the way, so I stopped in and bought a litter pan and some litter, which I begged them to deliver even though it was outside their normal delivery hours. They were kind enough to agree; I think they were entertained by my excitement over acquiring a stray cat. Then I dashed to the building, where Chris led me down to the basement and handed me a carrier with a very, very loud cat in it. He looked a bit wistful--they'd gotten to be friends--and I assured him that he can come visit her anytime.

I walked home with the cat, running into our landlord on the way. Fortunately he doesn't mind us having cats, though since he lives in the apartment below ours, he was probably a bit concerned that the new occupant was going MEOW MEOW MEOW WOE MEOW very loudly and steadily. When I got in to our apartment, Sam and Java were likewise concerned.

I'd warned X--who told me "It took you long enough! I've been asking you to bring a cat home from the store for weeks!"--so she had her room all set up as a cat sanctuary. We got the cat out of the carrier and in front of bowls of food and water. She mostly wanted to hide in the corner and say MEOW MEOW MEOW WOE MEOW a lot.

A minute later [livejournal.com profile] maryrobinette arrived for our planned tea date, so she and I hung out in the living room and had tea while listening to intermittent faint meowing and reassuring Sam and Java that everything was okay; X stayed in her room to get a bit of work done and make friends with the new cat. Then the doorbell rang again with the litter and litter pan delivery and there was more bustling to get that set up, and it was all a very exciting evening.

Mary and I had a very nice chat despite the distractions, and after she headed out, X and I made a moderately successful split pea soup for dinner. Then we hung out in her room, sitting on chairs near the cat and giving her space to approach us. She briefly hid in the closet just to prove she could, but once she started to feel more secure about food and less freaked out, she came over and showed us how to pet her: head pettins yes, chin scritchins yes, rump no. She showed us her belly (and even let me rub it!), which made it abundantly clear that there were no nursing kittens hidden in the garden waiting desperately for mama cat to come home. We were very relieved. We tried getting her to play with the red dot and the feather-onna-stick, but she greeted them with disdain: "I've eaten REAL birds. What is this?" If she has a predator instinct, it's very well hidden. Domestication is clearly her destiny. And she loves people! When we left the room and then came back, she'd scold us for being gone.

Occasionally Sam or Java would try to talk to the new cat through the door. Her reaction was to go very still, neither threat-posturing nor fleeing. Later in the evening she wandered over toward the door, though she didn't quite approach it. Java and Sam seem much more curious than freaked out, and they're probably mostly annoyed about not being able to go into X's room, which is usually their sanctuary. (I caught some sort of ick from Boston friends and am home sick today, and the first thing I did was let Sam and Java come into my room and sleep on my bed with me all morning and into the afternoon, so they know they haven't been forgotten or abandoned. They're much calmer now than they were last night.) I think eventual introductions will go well, based on that, but we're going to take it very very slowly.

Between 5:30 p.m. yesterday when I brought her home and 3 a.m. when I went to bed, the new cat ate three tins' worth of wet food--as much food as Java and Sam jointly eat in a day. Today at 5 p.m. I checked on her and her dish was empty again. I know X fed her this morning before going to work, so that's four tins of food in 24 hours, which is astonishing. She looks pretty solid but it's just because her fur is short and thick; underneath it she's all skin and bones. She drools a bit when she's purring, which suggests a need for some dental work. Her torn ear-tip looks well healed but one never knows. I suspect she has not been spayed, though it'll be hard to know for sure until/unless she goes into heat. (I guess we could shave her belly and look for a scar.) She's polydactyl, which means we'll need to make sure her nails aren't growing in odd directions. She could also use a bath. My guess is that the first round of vet visits is going to be fairly expensive, but after that she'll be fine; she's a sturdy survivor. Impossible to know for sure how old she is, but my wild-ass guess is 2 or 3, though the way she's eating might indicate adolescence as well as starvation. She's a grey-brown tabby with tiger stripes and big eyes and giant paws and a stupendously poofy tail and a voice like a siren. We all love her already. I really hope she gets along well with the other cats and we can make her part of the family.

As for a name: Chris called her Bubbles, but... no. I suggested naming her after a Klingon warrior, since she has such a fierce battle cry; on the other hand, her real talent is for being charming and friendly, which is not such a Klingon warrior thing. It's surprisingly difficult to think of fictional characters whose main survival skill is being friendly to everyone. X suggested Sophie, which we both really like even though we haven't yet determined whether she's wise. We'll see what sticks. In the meantime, she's Tiger, Paws, Toes, Little Miss, Cutie, Gorgeous, Sugarlump, etc. She doesn't seem to care what we call her, as long as we don't call her late for dinner.

EDIT: My mother suggests Mitzy, since taking her in was a mitzvah. Awwww.

See [twitter.com profile] xtinaschelin's Twitter feed for photos.
25 June 2009 23:04 - "I love this town!"
rosefox: Green books on library shelves. (Default)
When a bunch of people are being arrested outside the window, on your normally very quiet and peaceful block, you don't need to call the cops, because they're there. Instead, if you're me, you take some blurry photos and then you call the local papers.

The following hilarious conversation ensued with the fellow at the city desk of the New York Post. (I also called the Daily News, but they weren't as funny.) To properly imagine this, you have to hear his lines in the thickest of thick Noo Yawk accents. The dialect below really doesn't do him justice. I picture him chomping on a cigar and am kind of surprised he didn't call me "doll". Classic gravelly New York newspaperman voice. Got that fixed in your mind? Okay.

NYP: City desk.
Me: Hi, my name is Rose and I'm calling because a bunch of people just got arrested outside my window. 217th Street and Park Terrace West.
NYP: Oh yeah? Lemme write this down. 217th and Pahk Terrace West. What's goin on up theh?
Me: The police pulled over three big station wagons or SUVs, and we heard a lot of shouting of "Get out of the car!" and "Get on the ground!". No shots fired. I saw at least four people on the ground being handcuffed, maybe more between the cars. There were two unmarked cop cars and one marked. There was a guy in a DEA vest with an assault rifle wandering around, and a lot of evidence bags and people shining flashlights under cars.
NYP: DEA, huh? And an assault rifle. Arright. You said two mahked cahs and one unmahked*, or the otha way aroun?
Me: Other way around.
NYP: Got it. So is this, uh, an ongoin situation? Can ya get a photo?
Me: I took some photos but they're pretty dark, and they just finished clearing up and drove off. I would have called sooner but I had a hard time finding your number on your website.
NYP: Ha! Well, you shoulda had my direct numba and then you coulda called me right away. It sounds innerestin, but if there's no photo and no narrative, ya know, with Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett dyin we don't got a lotta room for local news tomorra. Okay? But I'll pass it on to the folks at the desk, see what they say.
Me: Okay, thanks!
NYP: Ya welcome. Thanks fa callin. Night.

* I swear he actually said this and I'm not just putting it in to exemplify his accent.

I note that he did not give me his direct numba in case something else happens. I'll just have to hope he's the one who picks up the phone.

EDIT: The Daily News reporter I spoke with just called back and said the cops told her they arrested two drug dealers. They're not going to write it up either. I suppose that with no shots fired, no police brutality, etc. there's not much of a story.
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