my heart is a glorious machine;

Heavens, it's been nearly a week since last I posted! For shame! But really, I've been rather shockingly busy, in, yes, the offline world, what with writing a Hire Me letter and composing my first proper resume ever (it's very short and not terribly impressive, but the fonts are lovely!) for the job at the local paper, and then accidentally spending the night at the Meholicks', which has become such a tradition -- with the Nielsons, too, when they still lived here -- that I really ought to put together an emergency survival kit consisting largely of pyjamas and spare underthings and leave it in a convenient corner. You see, burningstarsxe was coming home from three months in Maine, and when she arrived at last, there was such a riot of conversation and general jubileeing that I kept not leaving, and then it was eleven thirty at night... The next day was Friday, which was also Season Premiere of Dollhouse Day, so Sarah and Hannah came back in the evening, and we had a drawer of inappropriate starches (a real drawer, too), only someone neglected to tell me that none of the normal channels work anymore. We have bloomin' satellite, so this really oughtn't be a problem, but apparently it is. So here we are, panicking, staring at the grey screen, frantically eating cookies and squeaking... oh, it was dreadful. Eventually we gave up, took the drawer upstairs, and cosied up on my bed to show Hannah the Supernatural pilot, while I refreshed downloady sites to no avail. (A link finally surfaced about ten minutes after their father collected them, of course.)

Saturday was spent at Hershey Park, to which we acquired free passes from buying certain products at Martin's. Dad took Heidi and Timmy and I in the shiny new car, while Mum stayed home with Leandra (who would be no fun at an amusement park, as she would climb everything and be impossible to keep track of and she'd probably try to jump into a roller coaster or kidnap a duck or something). Ah, new car, how marvellously you glide along! And how exquisite it is finally to listen to CDs in the car again, instead of ancient tapes! (Okay, that often meant that we listened to a lot of Steeleye Span, but after two years it begins to be tiring when road trip music always consists solely of the surviving remnants of what Dad listened to twenty-five years ago. A lot of it is modern jazz, which I'm not especially keen on, and even Dad isn't that interested in anymore, and some of the singer-songwriter stuff is too eightiesified, and there isn't any of Dad's awesome psych folk stuff from the seventies besides Steeleye Span.)

Anyway, I'm not the largest fan of amusement parks in general, especially when I think about them too much ("this would be a really rubbish way to die, in the service of something so frivolous", I occasionally think on roller coasters or even swing rides, where a line might suddenly break; and then I think about how ridiculously much money goes into building these town-sized clusters of sheer entertainment, when people are, well, yes, starving in India and being murdered in the Sudan, and I am well aware that this sort of thing makes me the epicest of wet blankets), but I enjoyed myself rather -- they had an excellent carousel that actually went around quite fast, and tearing down an old wooden roller coaster is fantastic, and those spinning swing rides I adore because they're exhilarating and relaxing at the same time. Also there's something peculiarly sordid and fascinating about amusement parks and fairgrounds and circuses, something I can't quite put my finger on -- something about the colours and the sticky-sweet smell and the odd music and the mechanisms and the peculiar names of things and the way so many things seem strangely frozen in time. I do so want to put Mr Caruthers and Evy onto a carousel or something. (I have also always wanted an old carousel horse, a real one, on a golden pole, to keep in my bedroom and try to know the stories of it.)

And then it began to rain. Bah. It was cold and wet and we braved it for several hours, but then they started closing the roller coasters because they weren't safe anymore, and the rain wasn't letting up at all, and we were soaked and shivering and finally toured the Hershey not-factory -- mostly it was an array of Yay Capitalism Buy Our Overpriced Stuff, but it was very interesting to learn all of the different processes involved in making a simple chocolate bar, and when we finally wrenched the siblings away from the piles and piles of obscenely expensive mass-produced chocolates we decided to just go home. Ah, warm car warm car warm car.

Sunday I woke to rain, and when one is under the covers and indoors, grey rainy wet days are cosy and wonderful. Alack, I had to get up for church, and was rather cross, but at least it was chilly enough that I could wear my little black and grey double-buttoned schoolmistress dress, and people left quickly, and at home again there was magnificent chili for dinner, the first of the season, and then I ran off to finally watch Dollhouse with Sarah and Hannah at their house, and there was much conversation, merry and thinky and both, and I do so like people (and having Sarah back). Also Mr Joss Whedon is rather a meany-pants, but I expect you knew that. (Also JAMIE BAMBER IN HIS REAL ACCENT IS SO GORGEOUS AND WIBBLE-INDUCING AND ALSO CONFUSING. WHY DID YOU HIDE THIS BEAUTIFUL ACCENT FROM ME FOR SO MANY SEASONS OF BSG, MR BAMBER? WHY? THIS IS CRIMINAL. And, oh yes, there was also Alexis Denisof with his real accent, which is, alas, American, but his voice is still quite splendid and I am afraid that Sarah and Hannah and I could not possibly be prevailed upon to tell you a word of what he said in his little speech, as we simpered like very silly girls all the way through it.) 

Today, there was leftover chili and rain and coffee and a little autumn-coloured cat in the morning, and a library run in my new favourite purple sweater and my elegant pashmina scarf flowing around me in the brisk belligerent wind, and I am really quite enjoying it all. Except for these silly advertisements all over my LJ and being reduced to fifteen usericons. Pah!

I have been enjoying Good Days lately -- a whole string of them, which is lovely, and un-looked for. The air is brimming with October and possibility, and when it isn't, I have been trying my best to keep myself busy.

Sunday: Jonathan's parents and younger sister came to dinner. This I think was a resounding success. The dinner itself went well, the food was fantastic, my cake turned out even better than I'd anticipated (though next time I think there will be more icing), cider was very seasonal & delicious. The company was much enjoyed as well -- the McKeens are pleasant and comfortable and everyone got on very well. Jonathan & Allison & I had Fun With Cameras in the backyard before heading back to Jonathan's apartment for commisseration with Sarah, Hannah, and Victoria, who has just returned from three weeks in Williamsburg, and I have missed her quite a lot, so it was more than usually good to see her. I made a lot of cookies (snickerdoodles & chocolate buttermilk chocolate chip) and they were all eaten, and Taboo was played, and much cheer and goodwill was exchanged.

Monday began with...well, laziness, and me feeling a bit sloshy and thick, but by afternoon Mum & the little girls & I had headed off on an ultimately profitable Goodwill trip, whereupon I acquired the first pair of sandals that I have actually owned and liked in the past five years or so. I loathe flip-flops and anything resembling them with all of my being and most other practical sandals I have come upon would not co-ordinate with anything in my (extremely varied!) wardrobe. But Mum found the splendidest leather t-strap almost-flat sandals, with beading, which I later discovered on the internet retail for around forty-five dollars. I wore them all the rest of the afternoon; they are extremely comfortable and bohemian and will suit next summer's festival-going very well. There were also intruiging black flats with bows & silver buckles, brown & black striped stockings, and a charcoal-coloured hat that looks like a bit like a bucket hat by way of Jane Austen. There was also a Wal-Mart trip, full of kitcheny things and general housekeeping-ness. Almost immediately after we arrived home, Jonathan showed up for a planned photography walk. This was really some of the splendidest fun & glory I've had in ages, I think. The weather was warm and gentle with just a little coldness of breath in the wind, and we explored all sorts of bits and pieces of my town I've hardly or never looked at before, and took pictures of all sorts of odd things. Some of the results from my end will show up on balladrie before long; I am still sorting them out. There is some lovely magic about finding hidden things in a place you know.

Also I bought some really awesome jewellery involving buttons & owls, and stripey warm fingerless gloves. I mention this partially because I am very happy with my purchase, and partially so that I can tell you about how I bicycled to the mall in the near-dark, and the moon came out, and she was full and pale sheeny gold, an old-lace moon netted in lavender clouds, which darkened on the way home to skeins of navy silk.

Tuesday I woke early to see Dad off: he has gone for a quiet sabbatical in a cabin in the woods, where he has been hiking every day, and reading and writing quite a lot, he told me on the phone this evening. The rest of the day involved watching a lot of Firefly (I first fell in love with Firefly last October and now it has become one of my Autumn Things, like Sunshine and Abigail Washburn and certain sorts of baked goods and combinations of colours in my clothing and the onset of me wearing more eyeliner than usual), and an excursion, which was sort of a walk, and sort of a going to Hockman's for some chocolate caramels and then taking the long way back to the park, where I curled up on the far edge, away from the playgrounds and the city pool and the ball-fields, under several trees, between the picnicking pavillion and the stream. I lay on the grass under the gathering clouds and read The Secret History of Moscow, which along with The Graveyard Book is probably going to be one of this year's most memorable Autumn Books. I missed having one last year, and since Autumn is practically a holiday to me, this was very unfortunate. I had Winter Books that could have done just as well for Autumn but they came too late. The year before that I discovered Neil Gaiman and Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, and the year before that it was Sunshine, which it is now tradition for me to read at the end of October -- I am chomping at the bit to re-read it now, but I make myself wait! -- and bake cinnamon rolls to coincide. Anyway, it started to drizzle (which is a very ugly word; I don't like it; it has very little resemblance to the delicate little scatter-rains I love so much), and my poor library book was getting damp, so I went into the pavillion and got a bit chilly and watched Firefly a bit more, with my chocolates.

I think it was also yesterday when I had the candelabra on my trunk burning so long that the left-most candle is nearly flat, and there is a great mass of picturesque wax dripping down.

Today I have watched more Firefly, read, and gone to Hockman's with Heidi and Leandra, where Leandra got a free chocolate for being ridiculously adorable and grinning her little seven-toothed grin. It's been softly rainy most of this day, too, what Mum called "Seattle rain", my favourite sort of October weather -- it makes one want to be cosy, but also to be outside, and alive. The streets finally smell absolutely of autumn -- wet leaves and far-away woodsmoke and rain and things decaying quietly and willingly, and that undefinable autumnery that must be its very own scent, independent of all material causes. I took a little barefoot not-on-purpose walk down the sidewalk a bit, loving the trees, and in the luxury of dusk stood on the ledge overlooking the road in all the wet. Our house is on a hill, but the hill is only a hill from the back, where it drops steeply down to a patch of grass and the road that feeds into the main through-town one. There's a long sort of curb of wood keeping the yard a little safer, and some odd, thin trees jumbled up together. I love standing on the ledge and just watching things. Mostly cars, but the park is just a little ways from the other side of the road, and the Medicine Shoppe is exactly across, so often there is someone walking by.

We have been making our home more homey by getting all of the decorations out of boxes and putting them on walls where they belong. The living room is almost finished; the bedrooms are pretty well set also. I indeed take pictures when things are more in order and there are fewer boxes everywhere. My bedroom needs more posters -- I will buy them with my paycheck!! -- and I am thinking of copying lady_moriel and making a collage for my door. I spent a few hours today listening to Lisa Hannigan and NPR, and pulling everything from where it was crammed into my dresser drawers, sorting it out, folding it, and putting it back in, except I hung a lot of things in the Main Clothing Closet (Jonathan was right; I do need to name my four closets), so there is much more room now, and everything is considerably more organised, and my bedroom feels a little bit more settled.

Also I cut myself shaving -- BAH, I HATE RAZORS -- and knocked a shadowbox off the wall, shattering glass everywhere, one bit of which I stepped on. The cut was small, but there was an inconvenient amount of blood. One of these days I will grow out of this? 

The moving goes on. Jonathan was a great help yesterday, and we should have more help over the weekend, and a truck. On Friday we get a key. I am already scheming to be on the trip to go to get said key, as I have not been inside the house yet (just been outside, and on top of things, and in the yard examining the apple tree and the garden potential, and Mum took many many pictures when she had the tour...). I am Not Down with boxes and my books and jewellery going away inside of them. I have also been excessively sleepy, which is a great bother and is probably related to underlying depressive symptoms, drat them. I spent so much of today falling asleep (after sleeping in) that it bordered on insane. And now I am sleepy again, but not enough to crawl under my fleece blanket and two quilts and shut my eyes and get down to the business of slumber.

in other news, it is autumn! And it is finally beginning to feel a bit more like it, although the humidity that persistently crops up is getting on my last nerve. Fortunately we have very chilly nights to make up for it -- and when I am sitting on my bed reading or outside on my bicycle I can hear geese honking as they fly over me for warmer skies. Mum made baked beans and delicious cornbread with Italian sausage for dinner -- autumn is my favourite time of year for food. Cocoa and cider and apples, cinnamon rolls, spice cookies, gingerbread, my father's stew with massive savoury chunks of beef and potatoes seasoned with pumpkin ale, hot satisfying dinners, oatmeal and very very cold milk, all sorts of bread. Naturally, having a new oven with new quirks, I will be forced to bake a lot of things to ascertain what the quirks are and how to work with them, yes? I foresee much bread in my future. And spice cookies. And things which require cream cheese icing. Also: very pleased friends and family. (Aha, and it is nearly time for my yearly reading of Robin McKinley's Sunshine, and that means that I shall have to make cinnamon rolls. AND HIDE THEM IN MY LOFT.)

I am also nearly finished with the autumn mix I promise every year -- for real this time! Having a new et cetera journal is really doing strange wonders for my productivity. I wrote a short story (when does that happen?), posted a poem that's been lying in a notebook for three months, got back to attempting to write the last section of a fic, and nearly finished a mix. How very odd. I hope this productivity streak continues. Also: does anyone know how to save a song file edited in Windows Movie Maker? I was clipping several minutes of applause and talking off a live track I want to use in a mix, and for the life of me I cannot manage to save it as an mp3 file -- it's all "Windows Movie Maker Project" rubbish, which kind of won't play in iTunes, thanks. (Yes, I realise that there are far better programms for clipping the ends off of songs. Somewhere. Only I haven't got any of them.) 

My hands are cold. Ergo, I am exceedingly happy. I have missed curling into warm things and being able to wear layers. (My entire fashion sense is based on layering and texturing, except for the parts that are based on costumery and general oddness. When it's hot, I can't wear my vest, and it is the most used and versatile part of my bizarre wardrobe.) I hope it stays cool until forever. So long as we have a vaguely warm spell in late September and another in mid-October. It is rather ironic that the world is beginning to be brisk and chilly when it looks as if it is about to burst into flame, I think--but then the lonely black starkness of the trees amidst their firey garlands couldn't be anything but cold-weather, could it?

The fact that my beloved autumn is approaching fills me with delight--absolute delight, when I am not mind-fogged or be-mired in hormonal and situational depression combined. I am in love with the world of Creation again, and I don't know just why--but I am hurtling from mood to mood with the swiftness and irregularity of a weathervane in a thunderstorm. But late at night, if I am not in bed struggling to sleep, I 'dwell in Possibility'. Why my mind always seems clearer past ten is something I will probably never know.

I can smell it in the chilly air: orange, red, and gold, and crisp, crackling leaf-piles, and black-stark trees against the sky; red knit jumpers and hot cocoa and apples and molasses crinkles and cider; wearing layers again and gallivanting about in orange and brown; the smell of things that are bright and crackling and sharp and redorangegold-on-black. The eerie darkness of everything, even day: it makes me want to hole up with apples and poetry and wear skirts a lot. Oh! Rapture! And yet it will be at least a month before I see any change in the trees.

Autumn always awakens the part of me that Must Make Shiny Graphics, Blast It. And last autumn saw my very first fic-writing mania; I certainly wouldn't mind at all if that happened again. (Especially as I have, what, five things, mainly, right now that ought to be finished, and are being rather sticky; and two or three sort of mini-epicish things that have been shoved ruthlessly to the cobwebby back of my mind? Who is going to hurt me really badly if I confess that I have year-old Unfinished Tales fic that is actually decently promising that I haven't touched in eight months or so? Er. Yes. Running now.)

Let me return to the fact that my hands are very cold, and while this is delightful, it is also making typing difficult, and it is also a ridiculous hour of the morning and I should be in bed Right Now.