wordfalls and scatters

There are many things from the last few weeks that I want to write about, but can't write about here. They're too important or private for the Internet, or not mine to write about in public.

I can write about the small things which have consoled me.

It has been so lovely to be welcome, to be able to be there, without a fuss made about it. I have felt grateful that there has been space for me to cook, do dishes, make tea, do all the small domestic acts that allow me to show love and care for the people around me.

I have felt quiet and steady and useful, because others have nurtured that tiny sprout of a feeling, after weeks and weeks of feeling helpless and overwhelmed. I like to be quiet and steady and useful, now and then, because it carries me through and makes me strong.

I woke up this morning and the first worries that sprang to my mind were about work, everything that needs to be done today, tomorrow, before Monday. That is a consolation in itself. I know I'll get it done, one part after another.

It is tremendously consoling to have a sense of myself as someone who can do what is needed, and provide comfort and care, even under difficult circumstances.

And I have been buoyed by the love and care of others. J, who has helped me to be strong and given me hugs when I wasn't, and all of Pink Hair Claire's wonderful words that I can carry with me whenever I need to, and House Claire who has made it easier to cook for people that I love, and my wonderful family, and all of the people who have sent messages of love and support.

The last couple of months have been hard, for a whole heap of reasons. But I think it's going to be okay. Now is the time for putting my house (literal and metaphorical) in order, finding a safe space for future adventures.

Today has been busier than I initially intended. We thought we might perhaps go to Seahorse World and Platypus House, just for the morning. Except that we accidentally stopped off at the Beaconsfield mining museum on the way, and it turned out to be awesome. The new mine has been built right next to the old one, so there are lots of odd juxtapositions of old crankshafts and waterwheels with the new shaft in the background.

( This bit is mostly about the museum, and seahorses, and nature and stuff. )

This evening I have mostly been marking, but I took some ukulele breaks. And I played some ukulele-piano with my mother! We went through her songbooks, and played some songs she knew that had guitar chords written on them. And then we played some of the songs from my songbook. Her piano is much, much, better than my ukulele, but she's never just sat down and played from chords before, so I had to (very inexpertly) explain how it worked.

My little ukulele sounds so plinketyplinky next to the piano, but neither of us minded. It was so much fun playing around and working some songs out together! We totally jammed!

So, anyway, there are some sad and difficult things happening in my life, and a lot of things that I am pondering in a not-necessarily-happy way. But instead I am going to tell you about Ysabeau Wilce, and why you must read every story she writes, large and small.

I first came across her writing in a fantasy compilation; The Lineaments of Gratified Desire promptly became my new favourite thing in the whole world. I finally got my sticky paws on a copy of her first novel, Flora Segunda of Crackpot Hall, a few months later.

The way she uses language is utterly delicious to me. And her treatment of gender is wonderful (Flora Segunda made the James Tiptree Award honours list, which is for books which explore or expand concepts of gender), and doesn't make me angry at all (not even once!)

I am most terribly excited about Flora's Dare, which is the next Flora Segunda book, and will be coming out "soon". I can only hope that I don't explode from Wanting before Soon happens.