feminist~bookworm~mom

my dad: i thought it was bones

me:

leaf obtained, purpose unclear

ground:

unclear

sibling obtained, purpose: biting

- my neighbors telling all their friends and family about my landscaping and woodland restoration. I have never discussed this with my neighbors! But hearing last night that it’s been positively noticed and they are so appreciative really did make me feel Quite Good. They also wanted to use my yard for photos because of all my native plant blooms lol and they can’t wait for winter for me to clear out more vines and bramble. The part that really made my heart sing was that everyone said they noticed a distinct increase in fireflies this year compared to last.

- a mom and her smol daughter are introducing themselves to me. Daughter gives me a very English sounding name, mom says something under her breath like “that’s not your name!” And I say to the smol girl “My Anglicized name is ____, but my real name, my Hebrew name, is ____. Do you want me to call you by your real name? Because I’d like to call you by your real name. I can pronounce it, I promise.” And both mom and smol daughter LIGHT UP and immediately ditch their English names.

- all 16 families give speeches about the high school grad and then suddenly I am also asked to give a speech about this girl I know only in passing. Made a joke, crushed it. I am the Cool Neighbor now.

- having Very Bad Scotch with all the men outside discussing Immigration, the Economy, and Agriculture. They were fascinated that I am the one who does all things outdoorsy, that I am the landscaper and gardener and farmer, not my cishet spouse. I give many facts about bats, I have convinced many to invest in saving bats by citing how much money they save Society in crop pest control annually. I give many impassioned talks about the prairies and learn a tremendous amount about rubber trees and rubber tree plantations in India.

- I have been over to their house a few times before this and there’s never ever been any alcohol so I assumed none of them drank but then this One Guy shows up and I am informed that he is The Guy. Next thing I know I have three drinks in my hand of three different liquors and I am thinking to myself “oh OKAY you guys party hard actually”

- when I am inside dancing with all the 50+ year old women, they are Impressed that I am picking up the moves so quickly and I say something off hand jokingly like “my people love to dance too” and then they stop the music and ask me to put on MY people’s music. Imagine it if you will, this Lone Jew, teaching 20 Indian women how to do the hora.

Even in the house it was LOUD.  Probably the loudest thing I have ever experienced but at a normal, predictable interval.  You would begin to time your sentences with little pauses with the rest of the lighthouse crew so you would talk like this while making your………..HORN…………. tea and then carry on talking because you knew when it would go off.  It rattled the walls and the dishes in our cabinet.

At least one girl had died there. They kept photos of her everywhere “in honor of her sacrifice” because she had decided to take the winter watch alone and died in a storm where bounders the size of mini vans had been lifted out of the ocean and left scattered across the island, to say nothing of the ice chunks.  People weren’t allowed to be alone on the watch after that.

One day a dead moose washed up on shore and it took my entire crew all day but we managed to rig up a line to hang it up to dry because we thought having a moose skeleton in the house would really spice the living room up a bit.  It did.  Weird shit happens when six of you are left alone, like ALONE ALONE, no cell reception, no wifi, just a radio to contact the real world and not a lot of reason to do that.  People don’t go on lighthouse jobs if they want to stay connected, I’ve found.

So excited to reveal the cover to my new book today, The Wisdom of Emperors! You can check it out on Kickstarter, along with the full summary!

Inspired by the story of the Ancient Roman emperor Hadrian and his lover Antinous, The Wisdom of Emperors is a second-world adult fantasy novel written in the style of a fictional academic text. It documents the translation and study of a world-changing artifact discovered in an archaeological dig: a manuscript which provides the clues to finally unravel the mysteries surrounding one of the most famous emperors of the ancient world. 

The Kickstarter campaign is for the deluxe collector's edition, but you'll be able to preorder the standard hardback/paperback, PLUS the early-access ebook, available to backers well before general publication to everyone else. And there's going to be some really, REALLY cool merch as well (genuine papyrus bookmarks, designed and blockprinted by my own hands!)

and here he made his first fatal error. his moment of hubristic sex pesting. because of course i know where the term blow job comes from, i love learning about sex and the history of sexual terms! i know so much about oral sex that i could write a book on it!

It. It literally did. That was literally precisely the point.

“We are not a matchmaking service,” the woman in the red blouse said firmly, almost as if he wasn’t the first to make that remark. She rather reminded him of one of the managers at work. “We select tenants for very specific homeowners.”

“Okay,” he frowned. “So now you sound like an escort service.”

“No,” she insisted. “No, I told you. You would be renting a room in a house. That’s what this interview is for, nothing more.”

Sure, just like the advertisement had said. And yet— “So why do you need to know about my personality and hobbies?”

The lady was beginning to look rather frazzled. “Because it is very important to my client – the homeowner – that his tenants are a good fit,” she answered. “He lives in the house too after all, and he prefers to keep turnover as low as possible.”

“Turnover?” he baulked.

“Oh you know what I mean,” she said hastily. “People leaving. It upsets him.”

He was trying not to stare, he really was, but he didn’t manage very well. “Right,” he said, as airily as he could. “You’ve moved from escort service to potential serial killer.”

“Really, sir!” she protested, but by now he was honestly ready to laugh.

“I’m sorry, but what else do you call a landlord that has his tenants screened so they will not leave.”

The woman’s shoulders sagged. “That is not at all what I’m doing! And my client is renting out rooms in his own house, he isn’t doing this to make money, just to break even.”

Yeah he had heard that before. But it was a nice house. “So he’s looking for housemates, then, not tenants.”

She brightened up considerably. “Yes!”

He pressed his fingertips together. “And your ‘client’ has a creepy service to find him these roommates that may not leave because…?”

“Oh alright. Fine. Because he’s a dragon.”

Whatever this woman’s problem was she had a weird way of deflecting reasonable questions. “Because he’s a dragon,” he echoed.

“Yes,” she sighed. “I usually don’t lead with that, for obvious reasons, but that is essentially why, yes. It’s all very proper and traditional, of course, speaking from a culturally dragonish point of view. But it makes most humans uncomfortable until they fully understand the situation. I assure you all our clients have excellent character references. And we pledge to find a viable alternative for any tenant who wishes to move out within the six-month trial period if our dragon-human mediation does not work out.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” He was pretty sure his brain stopped working at the words ‘culturally dragonish’ but whatever else she had just rattled off, it was definitely not a joke.

The woman blinked. “Why yes, we take our responsibility as intermediators very seriously.”

“No, no, hold up. You’re actually working for a dragon?” Certain parts of their earlier conversation were slowly starting to slot into place. Stuff about a cosy household, landlord-to-tenant responsibility and a mutually supportive living environment. All very proper and traditional… He met her eyes with his mouth unapologetically agape. “You’re working for a dragon that hoards housemates??”

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “We prefer not to call it that.”

“But that’s what it is, really.”

The woman’s mouth pulled slightly. “…yes.”

He took a moment to let it sink in. A long, glorious moment. And then he sat back upright in his chair, leaning towards his laptop with entirely renewed interest.

“Alright, so first off, just for the record: you totally are running a matchmaking service. Second—” He added quickly before she could start up another protest. “I will answer whatever questions you need to ask to match me to this dragon household-hoard.”

“Wh- You will?” she said in surprise.