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Kaymyth last won the day on December 27 2016

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About Kaymyth

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    Eldritch Goddess of Eccentricity
  • Birthday 08/24/1977

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    Olathe, KS

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  1. I totally read this wrong the first time and missed the "not" and found myself thinking, "Well, there are lots of ways. Most of them I don't recommend." But no, you are much more sensible than my tired brain was registering. xD
  2. No! None of you have lost! You're just scoring more points! GO FORTH UNTO THE INTERNET AND WREAK CALVINBALL HAVOC
  3. It's from the cartoon strip Calvin & Hobbes. It's a ball game whose major hallmark is you make the rules up as you go. I would also like to point out that every time someone tries to tell you they've lost The Game, you automatically score 15 indelible points. I'm Slytherclaw, so I can get behind this message, too.
  4. Alas no TBH though I can't even find any book signings on PCC's online schedule.
  5. Y'all are behind the times. Almost two years ago, I declared that The Game shall henceforth be Calvinball. *beans @Ink with a nerf football* "Home run! 5,000 points for me, and 10 points to Slytherin!"
  6. The last several months in review: We lost Leia in July. Many of you may remember the occasional pictures I would post of my sweet little dachshund. Cutting for potentially upsetting details: I did write a thing afterwards to help me work through my grief. It's bittersweet and full of feels, and you can read it here: We are not a house that can remain dogless for terribly long, though. In September we rescued a bonded pair from a local dachshund rescue. Bozley - a chiweenie (dachshund/chihuahua mix) who is equal parts adorable and nervous. He enjoys snuggling, warbling in anticipation of breakfast/dinner, and eating chocolate. (That last one earned him an overnight stay at the ER vet.) No word yet on whether he's secretly coaching a trio of female superspies, but we're keeping our eyes open. Cooper - a long-haired dachshund. Super chill about just about everything, though we're not sure how much of that is his base personality and how much is the medication he's on for his epilepsy. Snores. Demands attention at inopportune times. Is Bozley's emotional support dog. In non-dog related news: I am no longer employed by Redacted, Inc. I know you are all so disappointed. But here's the basics: In October, my grandboss was "let go" along with a few other people close to retirement. They all got sweet severance packages, and by all accounts they're all doing fine. We who remained behind...not so much. Grandboss was replaced by a human who will henceforth be known as Professor Umbridge. I do not give this moniker lightly. She swept in, turned our entire service center upside down, and took my team (who specializes in, say, UFO services) and put them primarily on general cryptid duties. Not that anyone else could handle the UFOs, of course, they just got neglected like crazy for several months. Guys, I busted my tail trying to help my team keep up, but it was like bailing out the Titanic with a sieve. I was stressed as rust. My team was stressed as rust. My boss was stressed as rust. We were all stressed, frustrated, and generally miserable. And I was getting criticized for my team's "bad attitude" and basically treated as though being stressed was some sort of personal problem, and got corporate buzzwords tossed at us with a cheery, condescending tone that made me want to toss Umbridge to the nearest chupacabra. I was not happy. Then they announced a big management reorganization. They redesigned the entire command structure, sweeping out all of the existing positions and replacing them with all new ones. That anyone who wanted to stay around had to then apply for. But no, we weren't having to re-apply for our jobs, no, of course not, perish the thought! I declined to re-apply for my job. The upshot is: I have severance and a paycheck up through the end of May. I am job-searching and thoroughly enjoying the time I have at home right now. The dogs are delighted. James and I are going on vacation next week. I'm working on my She-Ra costume. In the week I have been off of work, I have felt my creative spark starting to come back. I think I'm ready to start writing again. ...you know, just as soon as convention season is over, because I'm chairing a convention that happens in two months and I still have SO MUCH TO DO.
  7. Okay, so this is a thing that I wrote over the summer while I was coping with the loss of a beloved pet. I had this dog for almost the entirety of her sixteen years of life; losing her hit me and my husband hard. If you read this, expect to have feels. You can't say I didn't warn you. ____________________________________________________________ The rapping of a knock on the door disturbed her reading. She didn’t often get visitors in her little house in the Suburb of the Dead. Lots of letters, though, sometimes delivered in delightfully odd ways. Slipped in through the windows, delivered by woodland animals. One day a stack had just appeared in her breadbox. She wasn’t even sure why she had a breadbox, but it had opened up that morning and letters had spilled out. Everyone knew she was here, and nobody wanted to bother her, but they couldn’t resist the opportunity for correspondence. She answered each of them, of course. There was no lack of time to do so. Many people occupied the City of the Dead. It was a place of waiting; few people stayed here forever. There was something beyond this, she knew, but like the rest she wasn’t ready to move on just yet. There were people back home she was waiting for, of both the two- and four-legged variety. Still, breadboxes and letters in the afterlife. Who would have expected? The knocking rang out again, polite and patient. She set her book aside and rose, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of the Rainbow Bridge out the huge plate window through the back of her house. That wouldn’t be Gary at the door, would it? He wasn’t that old yet. No...no, of course not. He’d have come running straight over the bridge and stuck his nose and tongue on the window until she let him in, assuming she hadn’t gotten a note letting her know he was coming. Her home was near the bridge by design; some parts of the City where tightly packed, but her neighborhood was quieter, more spread out. She’d almost immediately started calling it the Suburb of the Dead. It amused her. She shook her head and glided (literally; physics didn’t matter in the afterlife) smoothly over to the door, swinging it open. The man on the other side she recognized as one of the caretakers of the Rainbow Bridge denizens; pets who were waiting for their people to arrive. He was of medium build and bronze skin, and so far as she knew was one of the few who had been in the City for centuries, possibly longer. But what was notable about him today was that in his arms was a fluffy red dachshund with black-tipped ears. “Well, good afternoon, Sheneh. What brings you here?” She glanced down at the creature in his arms. It gazed up at her with clear brown eyes that burrowed into her soul. Then for a moment those eyes clouded with cataracts, red muzzle became dotted with white, before abruptly snapping back to youth again. “My small charge, I’m afraid,” he said with a sad little smile. “She seems to be having some trouble adjusting.” She raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t realize that ever happened. The dogs always seem to have the best time, running and playing all over the hills near the bridge.” Sheneh sighed. “She’s been here for over two weeks now. Poor little thing has been doing nothing but lying next to the bridge, watching and waiting. She vastly prefers the company of humans to that of other dogs. She’s friendly enough to them, but even the dogs and cat she knows well, she won’t stay with.” He cast her an apologetic look. “It happens sometimes. Some animals are just too closely bonded to their humans; they’d lie there and pine until the day their people came for them if we let them. But it’s not good for them, and her people are still young enough we’re not likely to see them for decades yet. In situations like this, they do better if we can place them with a human soul until their people arrive.” “Like pet fostering back on Earth.” “On a somewhat longer scale, yes.” Curious, she stretched a hand out to the little dog. She was rewarded with a tentative sniff and a polite lick, but it didn’t seem as if the dog’s heart was in it. There was another time flash, a sudden appearance of advanced canine age, then back. “What is…?” “She hasn’t let go of being alive quite yet. The effects will wear off eventually, but it’s a side effect of not wanting to leave her people.” “I see.” He shifted the weight of the dog in his arms. “So I thought perhaps I’d ask if you would be willing to foster her.” That was interesting. “Why me?” “Well…you’ve registered as intending to stay at least until your daughter arrives, so you’re going to be around quite long enough. And your cottage is near the Rainbow Bridge, so she can see it and reassure herself that she won’t miss when they finally do arrive. Once she’s risen out of her funk, I think you’ll find that she’s quite the feisty, independent little girl. I believe you’ll get along famously.” He bent down to set the dog down on the doorstep. She kneeled down as well, offering her hand once again. This time she was rewarded with a slight tail wag with the lick. The little dog’s fur was amazingly soft under her fingers. “What’s the catch?” He chuckled. “No catch. Though you should play her music now and then. I’m given to understand that she’s exceptionally fond of the piano. Oh...” His eyes twinkled. “And there’s one more thing you should know: her name. It’s Leia.” A full-throated laugh bubbled up out of Carrie’s throat. She stood up to her full height and looked him in the eye. “You sneaky bastard.” “It seemed appropriate, no?” The dachshund – Leia – appeared to decide all on her own that she had been invited in to stay. She trotted past Carrie’s ankles and into the house, hopping up onto the couch as if she belonged there. Her ears perked forward and she tilted her head slightly. “All right, all right you can stay.” Carrie shook her head and fixed Sheneh with a calculating look. “Mom put you up to this, didn’t she?” He shrugged. “It was my idea; she merely encouraged me. I really do appreciate it, though, Ms. Fisher. I think she’ll be much happier waiting here than alone. But I won’t take up any more of your time.” With another nodding bow, he took his leave. Carrie clicked the door shut, turning to look at the fluffy creature now royally lounged on her couch. “Well, I guess it’s you and me now, kid, for a while at least. Let’s see if I can graduate you from princess to general.” She glanced over at the coffee table and blinked. “Where did that remote control helicopter come from?”
  8. I know, I know. I swear, getting promoted to management was the worst thing ever for my writing; it's hard to make myself sit down at write when I get home when I'm just emotionally exhausted from being all supervisory all day. But! That is also at an end! I should...probably catch up with Random Stuff and give y'all an update post, because boy howdy have things gone crazy the last 6 months.
  9. The OTHER thing I want to do this spring/summer - finally finish the final revision draft of my dang Era II fanfic. >.>
  10. My pathological need to point out that I'm not an idjit saves the day! In all seriousness, we're not terribly bothered by thread necro'ing as a general rule; sometimes new discussion on old topics is warranted. Situations like this are usually easily cleared up. It says a lot about my recent activity that it's been months since a post of mine was quoted. I am rather looking forward to being active again; I just have to get through con season to get some daily spoons back. I let myself get talked into chairing a major milestone convention this year and thus PRESSURE. Await, good Sharders, for soon the magical unicorn mod will be roaming the Mistborn threads once again, lamenting the lack of Lost Metal to read.
  11. I plan on being there on Saturday, but my digital recorder has crapped out. Unless I can get it working again...
  12. Well, yes, we know that now. I wrote that comment about two months before Secret History was released.
  13. Heh. Sew-in interfacing is a lightweight, stiff but see-through fabric that I often use for my patterning. I trace the originals onto the stuff so I don't have to cut (and thus destroy the other sizes of) the pattern. As for the rest, I recommend looking up some tutorials on YouTube for how to lengthen arms and legs of patterns. They're going to explain it a lot better than I can.
  14. Worth pointing out - I should be rolling into town the night of May 30th and staying a couple of days. @Rubix and @firstRainbowRose are being gracious hosts and (presumably) going to be in some control of my schedule, but I'll be in the area.
  15. Most patterns have a place marked on them where you can lengthen or shorten the pattern piece. If you know about how many inches longer than the average your arms are, you can use some sew-in interfacing to create a new pattern piece to fit the length of your arm. Same thing with trouser legs - there's always a marked place for lengthening.