Like many others, I have left LJ. I've set up an account at Dreamwidth under the same name, kate_schaefer. I've imported the entries from this journal. I won't delete this journal, and I won't update it again.

LJ was a good thing for a long time. Oh, well.

Kate Yule played with her words, all the time. Puns and other plays on words (and she knew the difference between kinds of wordplay), capped literary quotations, Scrabble, Boggle, Quiddler: Kate was always right there with the apposite word, poem, spelling, or scrap of a play, in English, French, German, Spanish, and a stack of other languages as ( Read more... )

I'm traveling next week, so this week I'm making a purse for my mother (who is going abroad this summer for the first time in her adult life) similar to the one I made for myself for traveling. I'm making myself a pair of pants. Maybe I'm making two pairs of pants, because it's summer, and I'm a different size from last summer, dammit, and all the ( Read more... )

I set a fine little cargo pocket on the left sleeve of the jacket I'm making -- I love pockets on sleeves, though I almost never put anything into them -- and then utterly botched setting the sleeve itself. Ripped out the mistake and set the whole thing aside until tomorrow; once I start making mistakes, it's time to do something else ( Read more... )

Yesterday I went to the funeral for my friend Bruce Durocher. Bruce E. Durocher, II, master of digression and unusual facts. I had expected to be sad but okay, the way one generally is at a funeral of a someone who had been ill for a very long time; instead, I wept uncontrollably all the way through. Some of that weeping was for Bruce; some was for ( Read more... )

I’m filling out my Hugo ballot now, having waited until almost the last minute. Most of the stories I’m considering appeared in reasonably large-circulation venues. Two of them didn’t, since they were first published in Questionable Practices, the anthology of Eileen Gunn’s work that came out from Small Beer Press last year. I’m making a blatant ( Read more... )

What's blooming in my yard today? Winter honeysuckle, snowdrops, snow crocus, daffodils (both King Alfred and February Gold), regular crocus, alyssum, anemones, dandelions, those little purple weeds whose name I can never remember, and those little white weeds that I think are called don't-touch-me because they shoot their seeds out in a really ( Read more... )

I am Charlie Hebdo. Why am I Charlie Hebdo ( Read more... )

Glenn and I have been an item for 29 years today. Twenty-nine years ago, we went to the Old College Inn, ate a pile of nachos, drank a couple Redhooks, and shifted from being co-workers to whatever it is people are who have agreed that they're seeing each other socially, seriously, for the next while.

I'm not bored yet.

I can't remember meeeting Stu, but it must have happened at the 1976 worldcon in Kansas City. By the 1977 world in Miami Beach, I knew Stu and had a minor crush on him, which he ignored. Stu always sucked at flirtation, but he was fabulous at friendship ( Read more... )