April 26th, 2011

Paul Neyron rose

and Monday on return

R. and J. were watching TV, but R. got up and unlocked the door for me, and opened it.  At least she remembered what I said about how she could unlock all the locks rather than just take the chain off and stand there.  Well, she remembered this time.  I thanked her, saying that I carried a lot back and forth with me on my trips.

R. said that her cousin R.M. had invited her and M. and me to dinner at Olive Garden Tuesday night.  I said that was fine with me, then remembered that Glee was on.  I asked Dad to tape it, but even if the taping is successful, it will be a few days until I see it.  Maybe I should ask if she can make it for Wednesday night.

I pretty much went to the computer while the TV was on.  I heard R. singing along to some of the show, so I assume it was American Idol or some such.  It had seemed like things were unusually calm and under control, but when I went into the kitchenette, I saw that the little coffeemaker I'd gotten was covered in ground coffee and still plugged in.

Given that I'd barely stopped R. from putting tin foil over something before she put it in the microwave, and that she had managed to catch some paper towels on fire at the stove, I was just glad she hadn't burned down the apartment.  She was in the bathroom, so I cleaned the coffeemaker and then asked her about it later.  She said that M. had made coffee.  I was glad she hadn't tried to.  I was surprised he left little heaps of coffee all over the place.  I suppose he just poured it directly from the bag, and didn't clean up at all.

I said that I thought it was better if M. or I made the coffee, rather than her making it.  She seemed fine with that.  "And make sure you unplug the coffeemaker when you're done with it," I said somewhere along the line.  She said that had been M., too, leaving it plugged in.  I said I'd tell him, too.

The paper towel roll was used up, with the tube left there.  I have to work with her on putting new rolls in when you use one up.  It's not that she doesn't know that you can put a new one in.  It's just another example of her being lazy.  She just wants everyone to do things for her.

Back online, Teddypig had a post about a group of little e-publishers behaving badly.  I followed some of the links in it, and links from those links, to Dear Author and Writer Beware, among other places.  Dear Author gets a ton of comments when they post about e-publishers that mess with authors' rights and royalties.  I feel bad for the authors stuck in those situations.

I followed various things on AfterElton.  I've kind of been catching up on some of the articles from when my computer was broken.  One article asked why Chris Colfer wasn't featured in teen magazines in the U.S.  Anecdotal evidence, plus large groups on Tumblr and writing fanfiction, argued against the suggestion that teen girls wouldn't find him attractive.

The consensus was that the powers-that-be at the magazines didn't think their teen or tween audiences would think he was cute, that he wouldn't fit in with the fantasy dreamboy thing at all.  The powers-that-be have quite a lot of catching up to do about how many teen girls find gay boys adorable.  I tend to be attracted to androgynous, though identifiably masculine, guys.  There's a point for me at which the switch flips, and the realization that a guy would never be interested in me makes my appreciation of him merely aesthetic if he's cute.  There's just too much physical reminder that he's not into women.  I could actually wish my switch flipped faster that way.  Perhaps it does more so now than when I was a girl.

That's why when Lisabea decided that Roman Wild was her new favorite gay boyfriend, I wasn't jealous.  He was definitely the type I'd want as a best friend forever.  He's very cute, and certainly very sexy.  It's crystal clear that that sexuality is a gay sexuality.  It was like with her old favorite gay boyfriend, Adrien English.  It's also very clear from him that he likes women as people, but wouldn't think of one as a sex partner.  Adrien is best friend forever material, too.

Kurt Hummel is adorable.  He could be my fictional character secret love child -- as opposed to my real life secret love child.  It makes sense to me, and that's what matters.  Going back to my teen girl days, he's also the sort that I would want to be best friends forever with.  I don't think you're going to get sophisticated understanding from teen girls, but between the ones who wish they were gay boys so they had a shot -- I forgot who reported on that on AE, but I agree that it's a cute reaction -- and the young m/m romance fans, I think magazines for teen girls that had articles about Chris Colfer would be very popular issues indeed.  Well, it's the magazines that are missing out.  The teen girls have the Internet.

Paul Neyron rose 2

what's blooming

To be expanded on later...The lilacs are starting to bloom, and the Judd viburnum is in full bloom.  The winter honeysuckle is still blooming.  I didn't pick any of that this time because there were bumblebees swarming around it.  The bleeding heart is flowering.  The ferns are leafing out.  The lily-of-the-valley is in bud.
Paul Neyron rose

Tuesday real life

Went to Olive Garden.  Missed Glee.  Is there a web version that airs sometime this week?

Added later: So R.A.'s cousin R.M. wanted to take us to Olive Garden, along with R.'s boyfriend M. I had said that I wasn't doing anything, then reconsidered, remembering that Glee was on. This was late at night, so I wrote a note to R. asking if she could change it to Wednesday. When I got up Wednesday, she hadn't talked to R.M., but had talked to M. extensively. It was the usual screaming, "Don't hang up on me! I'm sorry! You are too coming on Saturday! Don't hang up on me!"

I gave up and called M. I asked him if he could tape Glee for me. He said he would. I'd asked Dad as well. I figured that one of them would get it right. I decided to forget about watching Glee while it was on. R. had a doctor's appointment that her social worker, C., took her to. I saw C. for the first time in a while afterwards, as she filled up R.'s pill boxes and R. did other things in the apartment, and we discussed in general terms how things had been going. They think R.'s doing much, much better since I've been there. Well, since I've been there and she got her meds changed, though they think both are helping. I was nonplussed. C. said it wasn't at all unusual for R. to lie in bed and cry for days, like she did right after I first moved in. C. was very happy that R. was doing less of that. I try to keep R. busy when it seems like she's getting antsy. There's always laundry and dishes to do, and cleaning to do.

R. talked to R.M. on the phone a few times, saying that he wanted to meet us at seven, then seven-fifteen. I should have known she'd be unreliable about reporting information, because he called at seven to say he was downstairs, and of course neither of us were quite ready yet. Turns out he'd brought his wife E. as well. It was kind of nice to meet more of his -- R.'s -- family. E. seemed pleasant enough.

Dinner had its ups and downs. R. and M. had a couple of tickle fights, which is nothing new. R.M. started asking for the manager several times just after we'd had our salads, and finally went off in search of her. I'm not quite sure what his problem was, but I think he felt the service was too slow. I was mortified to be at the table with someone who was doing that, and apparently does it regularly. I can see getting the manager if there's an emergency, but it made me hideously uncomfortable about the kind of person R.M. is.

We'd spoken of my jobs in the car, which somehow turned into how much money I earned per book I worked on. When I thought about it a bit later, I wondered why that was their business. Sure, I'm paying R.M. rent, but as long as I'm coming up with it, that's all he really needs to know.

When R.M. asked about our spending, I said that much of our money had been going towards grocery shopping. I said that we'd gotten lots of TV dinners. C. had rather approved of us getting TV dinners on sale. It was cheaper than ordering out all the time, which R. does otherwise. R.M. wasn't too happy that we were getting TV dinners, and said that I should be getting a nice chicken, and cooking that. Like he's the one who does the cooking around his house, I'm sure.

I later explained that I was doing much of the cleaning, and supervising all of R. doing her laundry, so apparently R.M. thought that I was earning at least some of my keep, even if I wasn't cooking. Keep in mind that I am paying rent here. I didn't know he expected a cook, too. I said to M. later on in the conversation that he could bring a chicken over on Saturday, and that he could show me how to cook it. R.M. took R. and me home, while M. went off to the Acme. He'd gotten himself to the Olive Garden, presumably by bus.

R. and I went back out to take M. home, with a detour to pick up milk and fruit juice and take them back to the apartment. R. had had a twenty, but said that she didn't have it anymore, that she'd had to give the man in the parking lot some money. After we went over this a few times, M. figured out that she'd had to pay for parking at the doctor's. We made do at the Acme with the eleven dollars she had left. M.'s attempt to record Glee hadn't worked. We'll see if Dad did any better. M. gave R. a bottle of gefilte fish that he couldn't eat, since it had gluten in it. We headed back to the apartment.

P.W. called to say she was bringing R.'s weekly spending money over, and none too soon. We went down into the apartment building lobby, and saw her waiting out in her car. We spoke for a little while. I'm planning a grocery shopping trip tomorrow, plus some laundry and cleaning. It should keep R. busy. We'll see how much of it she goes along with. I hope I sleep tonight, since I didn't last night. It wasn't a bad day, though I wasn't thrilled with R.M. It was good to be able to give C. something of a rundown on what was generally going on.