neyronrose (neyronrose) wrote,

Friday very early

Dad worked on my computer for several hours.  A. from Green Bay called.  He fixes electronics, so at some point I handed the phone over to Dad and Dad explained things in Dad-talk, with a large helping of technology geek.  A. presumably answered in technology-geek language, while I started to feel as if I was asking a lawyer for legal advice.

I later told stories about editing to A.  The "I'm still bitter about the manticores" line starts one story of mine.  Then there was the spaceship that got messed up by having its intake manifold take in space rubble.  I had gone to James the Harley (and big truck) lover for an explanation of what a manifold was, because I knew it was something on a car.  I explained to M. that it didn't sound to me like the science was right, because I'd asked somebody who knew what a manifold was.  Her question was, "What is the manifold supposed to take in, vacuum?"  I don't think a manifold appeared at all in the final version of the story.

As I related this story, I'm explaining how I know that an author who goes by the pen name of James Buchanan loves Harleys and big trucks, so James became my go-to person about mechanical things.  I'm quite sure that James can talk Harleys and mechanical-geek talk for hours.

Then again, at the same time, I was editing a story in a series in which women navigated spaceships, but to use their special spaceship-navigating talents, they had to be bound upright, and naked.  I think it was that clothes interrupted the flow of the ley lines.  Anyway, it made for a "scientific"-sounding reason to have a naked bound woman.  This is why I just can't take it seriously.

I said how I'd channeled a couple of authors and my knowledge of common mistakes to write a few example paragraphs of bad writing on the production loop.  One of the editors said it should have come with a spew warning.  M. said she'd edited that story, several times.

Then there was the story in which the characters had sex in Zero-G, and said some action felt like freefall.  It didn't sound quite right to me, mostly because it was spelled "free fall."  I'm sure someone could explain what in that particular scene bent the laws of gravity a bit too much, but I believe that the word "freefall" was removed before the book went out.

A. said that I should combine all the stories, and have characters have sex by their spaceship's intake manifold, then fall through space and come out as were-gypsies.  "I edited that story," I said.  I'd already said how that if werewolves were cool, and vampires were cool, and outer space was cool, having werewolves and vampires in outer space must be doubly kewl.  I couldn't even name a specific author, because quite a number have done it.  I actually really liked one "vampire living (existing?) on a strange moon" story, so it can be done pretty well.

Sometimes it makes my brain hurt.  After a slight bit more consultation with A., Dad said he thought I needed a new hard drive.  He stepped back over me as I lay on the floor talking.  I'd had to plug my phone in because the charge was running low, so I plugged it in at the power strip for the computer and accessories, which still had a couple of free outlets.  It must have been midnight my time by then.

I talked about wanting a raised flower bed for my birthday.  "I want it cedar wood," I said, "because pressure-treated wood has arsenic."

"And all kinds of other chemicals," A. said.

"Someone I talked to today, K., said that an 8'x3'x3' cedar container with however many cubic yards of topsoil (and she tried to figure that out) in it sounded expensive.  Mom said that, too."  I'm not sure if Mom even got as far as the cubic yards part.  I think just hearing "cedar" and the dimensions I wanted gave her an idea.  Everybody else I talked to understood why I wouldn't want to use pressure-treated wood.  "I plan big," I said to K.  I don't know why Mom and Dad are surprised.  I'd been saying I wanted a raised bed for my birthday for a couple of months now.  It doesn't look like my vision in cedar will be happening, but Dad talked about renting an auger to try to get through the shale, clay, and more shale that passes for soil around here.

I'm still expecting another twelve or fourteen roses.  They were that early Christmas gift.  I hope the auger and Dad will hold up.  I talked to S.M. about hiring her big yardwork projects guy, and S. gave me his number.  I felt sad before the roses got here, at the thought that they'd say "Happy birthday from Aunt A.," but once they arrived, I was full of the joy of getting garden plants.

Tags: books, family, flowers, reading

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