my heart is a glorious machine;

I. This is probably the most newsworthy, so I'll get it out now because I am feeling charitable and won't leave you lot hanging in suspense: THE BABY IS A GIRL. !!! Mum had an ultrasound...er, several days ago...and it was, according to her and the doctor, very obvious. I...actually forgot to post about this, which is really rotten and scatterbrained of me, but I didn't get on until late that day, and I posted it on my Xanga, and...here, have a whole barrel of excuses; they're on sale today. Anyway, we are quite excited (except Timmy, who was hoping for a brother to even out the pack, but he's coming around), and Mum and I are already having to resist buying cute baby clothes.

II. Our wee kitten's got a name at last, six days after we got him! The trouble was that Dad and the rest of us couldn't agree on a name, and the poor kitten got called 'kitten' for days until Heidi suggested 'Bartholomew', inspired by the Doctor Seuss books Dad had got out for her recently (Bartholomew and the Oobleck; The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins). I like having a long name for a wee kitty, and somehow it suits him, although we may take to calling him Black Bart as well. (And, you know, we could call him Barty, too, which by a long, long stretch of imagination, logic, and fangirlishness could end up as Ten. Which...has just proved me The Ultimate Fangirl, as I am fangirling for a fandom I'm...not technically in, due to variables I can't, unfortunately, control. I'm going to go hide somewhere now.)

III. On the way out of Goodwill this evening, I spotted a man walking a VERY LARGE BLACK DOG. Sirusly Seriously, it was massive. Says Mum: "Oh, that looks like a Newfoundland." Says I: "OMG IT'S SIRIUS. I TOLD YOU HE LIVES IN OUR TOWN." Mum is oddly silent and not leaping jubilantly or attempting to knock the man down and make a run with the dog.

IV. While in Goodwill (a new one to us in a town we happened to be near), I finally found my winter coat. I have a lovely brown tweed dress coat that is simply crying out for a fierce black umbrella, but I can't wear it out all the time (I nearly ruined it bicycling down the highway on a rainy day; the back was horribly mudspattered and we had to take it to the drycleaners', which was when, um, we sort of totalled the car), and it's bedimmed hard to find a nice short coat. I was looking for a pea coat, but this one was just as lovely. (Yes, I look...ill and disgruntled and sort of mentally questionable in these photographs; they were taken with the ruddy flash on.) Also, the scarf? Was once owned by Sirius Black. You know it. (Can't you see him wearing it while motorbiking through the sky?)

V. I might as well get the clothingspam over with, so, um, here are photograph of me gadding about in a couple of dresses, and looking very much as though I need a shower. (Which I did. I took one afterwards.) Here I am in this rose-covered thing that I would wear to a holiday party if I...had a holiday party to go to. Here is this vintage thing with awesome buttons. And here I am in my pathetic go at dressing conservatively (we went to a different church on Sunday, and I was instructed not to worry anyone with lurid colours, striped stockings, or other things that might jump out as Really, Really Odd). Yes, the preening is on purpose. It's a foppish sort of outfit (or foppish vampire, which was what I looked like the last time I wore it, I think). How is this conservative, you may ask? Well, the colours are vivid but subtle (if you can't tell, the jacket is dark sage and the skirt is royal purple and the boots you can't see are burgundy), and...I'm not wearing the hat.

Going to bed now, I promise.

I am attempting to come up with something really scintillating and fascinating to write here.

(Drawing a blank.)

So, um, does Sirius Satelite Radio and its alleged omnipresence, omnipotence, and general mind-reading ability (as displayed in the television commercials, albeit discounted) have anything at all to do with my Sirius theories? At all? Because can't you see Sirius thinking one day: "I'm bored. I think I will start a company. With the proceeds, I can probably fund my hunt for the Other Curtain and my other selves." (Businessman!Sirius is an irrationality all its own, so we will just ignore that part. Even if it is desperately amusing.)

I do believe that I am being haunted by the ghost of Sirius Black. 

Of course, that would mean that he is actually dead, and I am still clinging to the hope that he is simply lost, hiding, or stuck. Or something. In any case, he is trying to contact me. I am sure of this. 


In conclusion: yes, he isn't dead. But why is he contacting me? I mean, me, of all people! I can't even drive! If I write about him, it will always be angsty! I own a cat! I don't have enough money to ship him off to England where he belongs and hopefully has god-grandchildren. Or something. (Furthermore, what the bloody plague is he doing in my small, insignificant Pennsylvania town? Twice?)