rapid unscheduled disassembly

Great news: she loved it. Super tasty apparently. Great success. Along with the kidney-sensitive treats we found, it was a nice way to supplement her diet. Unforseen long-term consequence though: she loved it so much she began demanding it throughout the day. Like, would come up to us and meow, and meow, and meow, and not stop, until we got up, went to the kitchen, and got her some cat drink.

And by doing so on demand, we have unfortunately created a monster: no matter what we are doing at home, Dozy knows that if she sits next to you and meows, 1) you know what she wants, and 2) you know that she will not stop until you get it for her now. And when you do get it, she gets extremely excited. She will bum rush the kitchen door as you enter. She will run around your feet as you open the can. She will let out the creakiest, crunchiest, most nails-on-the-chalkboard meow you've ever heard if she thinks you're not going fast enough.

I do not begrudge her this. It is gratifying to care for a creature whose most ardent desires are so simple that it is this easy to fulfill them. But I am a little sad, because I know in my heart that I have never loved any comestible as much as she loves this cat drink. She has a pleasure of a purity and intensity that I will never know.

This is Yoda. She also LOVES cat soup and will not eat pâté or actual meat and is a big snob about it. She also won’t drink out of a water bowl, so my gf got Yoda her own teacup and saucer at the local thrift store. It sits on our coffee table now, and when it’s empty, she sits politely and paws at it. 🥹

and then. I kind of forgot. it sat on my shelf for so long that it eventually passed into the category of "surely I have read this book I own, the last book in this series I adore." and then I started my reread and was looking something up on the wiki for reference and found:

and went WHAT. WHAT. OKAY I WOULD HAVE REMEMBERED THAT.

so I got impatient and jumped ahead to read that one. and it was delightful. I think I felt like it'd be bleak, but it's not??? the grief is certainly there and it hits when it needs to hit, and there are moments from melancholy to heartbreaking, but it's also funny and hopeful and sweet and charming; I was reading it the whole way through in permanent Good For Her(TM) mode.

some of my favorite moments:

Vorinnis accidentally roasting Jole by making him feel a million years old (mood, brother, college students are doing this to me often. What Do You Mean you were born in 2007.)

the little examples sprinkled throughout about how Barrayaran society is changing (the female officers corp! the medical center in Hassadar!)

"Asssertive, perhaps. As you may recall," followed immediately by Jole choking on his wine (...which could mean anything)

Aral canonically confirmed for kinky as hell, in a grand victory for Fandom Assumptions

every single thing that happens in The Shack oh my GOD

the fact that it apparently took a whole security detail conspiracy to keep the Vorkosigan throuple under wraps and Miles STILL didn't figure it out

"Screwing, dear."

THE DRAWINGS

Cordelia's joke about Aral being the first Barrayaran to discover the burrowing radials

Jole and Miles's garden talk where Miles is re-evaluating his entire perception of his parents and Jole is meanwhile just. on so so many painkillers (that whole conversation was very sweet)

the two ending lines before the epilogue. the ending lines of the epilogue. THE ENDING.

"Friends? No thanks, take off your belt."

So currently I answer to my full first name (which I usually introduce myself with) as well as two nicknames/diminutives plus my last name when people mistake it for a first name. There are two or three other nicknames I've also gone by in the past. I'm perfectly fine with this, or neutral at minimum-- I have a common name and have had to be flexible with how I'm distinguished for my whole life. I also don't feel a deep and fundamental connection of my name with my identity, though I think going by another name entirely would confuse me.

A number of friends have been appalled at me being called names I don't say are my name. Which is really weird to me, although I'd go to battle for anyone else who was getting either deadnamed or called something they didn't want. But this perspective seems surprisingly common!

One of the things that stayed with me the most, was reflecting on traditional gender roles in the Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude congregation and how it relates to religion in general.

Vera halts her life to raise a child she has no moral obligations towards. Simone is the church's biggest donor, keeping it operable basically by herself. Martha is the only employee handling administrative work in the church, keeping the treasure a secret her whole life. They are all endlessly devoted. They are all meant to be contrasts of Grace, the real "women of God," and in the end, it's thankless labor from all of them.

Vera's adopted brother is a selfish jackass who appreciates nothing about what she did for him. He saw her as just a free nanny to be "dumped" once his real father showed up.

Simone is being prayed on at her weakest and used as a cash cow, only to be told she can't be healed because she's a faithless woman.

And Martha only realises at the tail end of her life that her selfless devotion to a man and his teachings meant nothing to him. That he betrayed her the first chance he gets.

Wicks sees himself as blameless, has no standard for his own behavior. He's a disgusting, horrible man, who deserves none of their devotion.

When Vera and Martha realize that their whole life they trusted the story of the "harlot whore", only to experience the exact same treatment even after doing everything in their power not to be like her, that's the first time they can reflect on her, and when they finally realize: