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The Case of The Cross Stitch Cushion

A while back cribbins and I had a random conversation the gist of which was that we decided that while Sherlock was 'dead' that Lestrade, Watson and Mrs Hudson should team up as secret ninjas and save the world. Mrs Hudson would obviously be the secret weapon as Nobody Expects The Sconish Inquisition. This led to cribbins declaring that she wanted that on a cusion with Mrs Hudson's face.

I know a challenge when I hear one.

Now, I'm no good at doing faces, but I thought, what the hell, the Union Jack on one side of the cushion and then the phrase along with 3 ninjas, the wallpaper and a teacup on the other.
I really wanted to try to do the graffiti IOU as well but I never quite mastered it in time for her birthday (today) but I'm determined now to be able to do it so Ive blocked it out and I'm still practicing because...well, just because.

So instead of the graffiti, I thought I'd have an homage to the missing Holmes with his silhouette, and inititally I blocked out the traditional 'Holmes in deerstalker' back to back with Benedict Cumberbatches profile. worked in the practice run but couldnt seem to get it right on the proper cushion so instead I just flipped the image of Holmes and put them in the corer framing a lovely cup of tea.

Many a nurse and surgeon were intrigued by what on earth I was doing but most were sort of perplexed that someone under the age of 50 actually enjoyed doing something like cross-stitch. Although I now hate the Union Jack with a passion. That took weeks. Mostly because after a couple hours I couldnt bear to look at it anymore!

But now, after the birthday girl has received her present, I give you the planning stages, and teh ridiculous number of pictures I took to show progress to nearest and dearest to get their opinion on whether I should just get the poor lass a decent present like a book!

Side A Complete
Side B Complete
Side A Prepping for the phrase
Tiny John Gun
Practice Scone. Sort of looks like a pie.
Backed, sewed, stuffed and complete Side B
Backed,sewed, stuffed and Completed side A
Practice Ninja. Better than actual ninjas. His name is George

Sherlock AU

This is getting out of hand, it has taken over my life. In the shower, think of scene, have to repeat it over and over to self out loud or will forget it. Wake in middle of night, thinking of scene, open new note on ipod to scribble it down. Having surgery, in buckets of pain, think of story to distract self (this does not work). There are highlighters and coloured pens and post its and postit tabs and pens and mountains, sheer mountains of research coming out of my ears and the blasted thing is now 34 pages and counting. I feel sorry for my lovely beta cribbins who has accepted the challenge of trawling through this magnum opus and whip it into shape. Poor poor cribbins, you are surely a greater person than I.

Back to the Word document, my delighful procrastination time is over. oh god. I just want the damn thing to be good, you know?

Never Again

Next time my specialist has a bright idea remind me of this moment...

Phuque Que world

Together We Will Live Forever

So, been a while since I've posted. I'd love to say life is that busy, but that would be such a baldfaced lie as to be believed by not even the most guilable of children. Hospital and doctors wise, oh yeah, far too much of that. Actual life, decidedly thin on the ground.
Having now acquired a new surgeon for my birthday, or actually an old one but this time it'll be on the NHS not privately, I will be adding ever more to my conquests in the surgical field. And as of friday, or I suppose more specifically the 28th of December, I will be acquiring a Neurologist. Because I can't stand up properly. Or sit. Or do much but hold my head and wait for the feeling to go away. My horizon is apparently no longer set to nice 180 degree line, its off at a 45 degree angle, and I keep getting migraines, and nauseated beyond belief with a feeling like a ice cold poker is being rammed up through the left side fo my head from under my jaw to through my skull. some days i cant move my head a cm away from the default or my vision blacks out, or i cant open my jaw or swallow for the same reason. On good days if i shake my head my vision goes grey for a few minutes. and then of course theres the blacking out and collapsing. And scaring the shit out of my family.

This is 'a cause for concern'. And so in the next couple weeks I get to have a brain MRI which will nicely complete my set-there will not be a part of my body that hasnt been MRI'd CAT scanned, Xrayed, ultrasounded or, in the case of a few parts, all of the above. Because thats what I need. although, I might have to acquire a disk of this set of scans and along with the others, print out slightly creepy morbid skeletal version of me. heh, halloween entertainment sorted then.

I can't tell if Im dealing with it incredibly well or not dealing at all. My brain sorta all I have left at the moment, and the threat, no matter how m inute that there is something wrong with it, something other than what my mediaction is doing to it(which is distressing enough believe me, its like juvenile dementia and I am, or was, a psychologist, I know the signs)is frightening in a way even my spinal cord problems are.Its so much harder to treat for one. Just another perfect week then.

Meh, I'm just feeling morbid because Ive been listening to maudlin music all day in preparation for The Reichenbach Fall. Tiny Martin Freeman in his epicness of GRIEF is likely to just cause me to weep like the neighbours kid. And I can happily blame all the tears on the death of Sherlock Holmes and none whatsoever on any worry or ailments. All to do with the almost painful beauty that is Benedict Cumberbatch and his Holmes and his death and Watson, oh Watson and nothing to do with being subconsciously angsty.

But sometimes, sometimes you just have to write it out. Get the feeling out of you and trap it to a page or a screen, where it can't get back to you. Or something. I don't know. SOmetimes, you say something and its untethered, its free and can move and it's free to return to you but you write it down and its stuck. yeah, I sound insane now so Im going to shut up and go away

In future, when I decide to write a story for SG-1 AU in which Jack is an alcoholic and Daniel is a recovering addict, someone can just go right ahead and shoot me. Im genuinely in fear of being crushed by the printouts on AA and NA, of gun specs and mission protocol and transcipts, not to mention the thousand and one scraps of paper onto which I scribbled a line or an idea when it popped into my head which are now illegible but cannot possibly be thrown out lest I can actually figure out over time what the hell I was either trying to say or just couldn’t spell.

To hell with it for awhile methinks.  Back to tidying up what was Brixxx’s birthday story, a DS story with RayK/Fraser so that I can actually feel like Im still writing things and posting them.  Even if they are odd and ended up in a totally different place to when I started and seem to have disappeared down the rabbit hole.

I have the need to write something short and light and even funny but everything of late is angsty or heavy or starts out a short story and ends up a novel. Why? I don’t know, but I think its that I struggle with being able to get across what I’m wanting to say in a punchy few lines and end up babbling in circles for pages in order to convey what a better writer could with a single sentence.  Its most annoying. Even ended up getting tested at University for a couple of learning disabilities that might explain it but all that did was determine I was some sort of genius. Not quite sure how that happened and if the Docs could have told me a genius in what, I would have appreciated it. At the moment I struggle to do sudokuo, and how sad is that that its doctor prescribed.  One of my medications basically melts the brain and fries out short term memory, vocabulary, concentration so I have to do puzzles and games and brain teasers everyday.  Which is just frustrating because they used to be fun and now I can’t even finish a thought let alone a sentence.  Three nights in a row I have literally faceplanted at the table, midsentence, dead asleep at about 8 in the evening. My sister had to herd me up and put me to bed once. The joys of being a 26 yr old infant I guess.

See?? Everything is depressing, even when its not a story. Meh.  I’ll just use it as fuel for the AA story; addiction, withdrawal, depression-if you’re supposed to write what you know, then I got it in spades.

On the awesomley plus side, i have finally gotten my mitts on the last few seasons of The Golden Girls which I love to a degree unknown by man before.  I grew up with it, I remember being a little kid and watching it and wanting to be Rose’s friend.  I’d have listened to her St Olaf stories all day long. And wanting to be fun like Blanche but always suspecting  was Dorothy-tall, dependable, responsible, yet often screwed over Dorothy. When I got the boxsets it was so odd the things that made me nostalgic and happy.  The tapping of Blanches heels on the wooden floor, the theme music, Sophia’s handbag, it all just made me feel 6 again, safe and happy. I love love love the Golden Girls and I don’t care who mocks me for it- Im looking at you Brixxx, and possibly the_fun_monkey!

And finally got Powers Collection so I can re-read the awesome series. I forgot how much I liked the comics, how cool Christian is and to be fair how annoying I found Deena at first then grew to love the little angst ball.  If it finally does get to be made, I hope Katee Sackhoff does get the role, even if Deena is a little Starbuck-esque.

And anyway, that is the news from Lake Woebegone and I shall away to continue some editing of ‘Malice in Wonderland’ and start to post things. woohoo )

Had review with my surgeon today. I am officailly not where I should be in terms of recovery and the outcome is 'disappointing'. He holds out hope that within a year it'll level out and improve but in the mean time, more tests. Some scans to check the hardware and its placement and then some nerve induction tests to check what sort of impulse is created at various points throughout the length of the nerve. Ive always wanted to be a physics experiment. Look ma, no electrodes.

It was yet another round of yelling and disappointment and near friggin tears just to see my surgeon. Back in January I was farmed out to an SpR despite having only agreed to the surgery on the basis of my new surgeon promising me that he would oversee everything and that this time around my experiecen would be nothing lke the first time and that he and his main SpR would always be available to me. Like fuck. After the Jan appt I rrequested to see main man. Was given an august appt with no promise of seeing him. Had melt down. Was assured, after PALS had to intervene, that todays appt was with my surgeon not an SpR. HA. but after ten minutes of deightful ugliness managed to get what Id been promised and managed to ensure I'd only be seen by my surgeon from here on in. I know that surgeons really couldnt give a shit after theyve sliced and diced-all they care about is the new patients- but he hasnt fixed me so he's damn well stuck with me until he has.

Why does it always have to be a fight? Just the thought of having to go back to that hospital makes me want to cry and become so nauseated i can barely stomach the car ride, all because I hate the place. I hate it. And the thought of having to go back, even for tests and scans, just fills me with dread. If, IF, there is something wrong with the hardware I may lose my mind. Theres only a 1-2% chance, but Im that special person that screws upfor the rest of the world-if theres a super rare side effect or condition you can bet your ass Im the bastard that gets it. even if it should be impossible due to age/sex/race. the joys of being a medical marvel. So tired.

Shall drown sorrow in carrot cake, and AA research for ridiculous SG-1 story and Due South 'research' (rewatching/drooling for those terribly important character quirkes. Perving, the lesser known writing necessity) with some dabbling in the Pratchett/Due South crossover. Not even going to try looking at the Top Gear/Firefly cross, I can just tell going to get nowhere with that at the moment. Not exactly like Ive being going great guns at it in the last couple of years.


Why am I being attacked by plots that aren't plots? Last couple of days I keep rolling a due south/Night watch (discworld) crossover but no actual plot lines other than a magical malfunction atmUnseen University transporting Sam Vimes to Earth, chicago to be precise and encountering Benton Fraser who is pretty much Cpt Carrot. I generally need more to
Go on and have three other things to finish but hey ho. This may he even weirder than the top gear/firefly crossover. Then again...

Dear Da

I know your trying to be helpful, but for future reference when Im hysterically weeping to the point of barely being able to breathe because my cat is basically dying and I dont know what to do, at NO POINT should your response contain the line 'you can get another cat.'

Christ on a bike man, are you fucking kidding?? Yeah I'm ridiculous but god my family sucks at knowing what to do with overt emotional displays. or covert ones. or ones of any kind. I brought Memmet back from the brink twice already, I can do it again. Fuck off with your 'everyone dies' crap. I know that, Im not five but Jeeeeeez

Ok done now.
Off for happier things, like Brixxx birthday fic. woohoooooooo evil woman and her constantinople..
And that pesky AA/NA Stargate Fic thats just getting stupidly longer and longer Out of control wordage.

The shitfest of General House-pital

"This secret bath is burning my lady parts"


House writers: I will admit you could have made it even worse even more nauseating but WTF??

please let temm Kill Huddy (or cuddy I dont care) before i aspirated on my own vomit
Been re-watching some NCIS S4-5 which I mostly have to avoid as I hate the character of Jen even more than I hate Cuddy from House(and I'd actually stand and watch laughing if she caught fire, so thats hate) and have to skip lots of episodes, and I noticed that thats (for me)when Dinozzo stopped being written as a more complex then seen on the surface character and started being the team scapegoat. THe way the team treat him would have me quitting/suing them within months.

It started in Boxed-In, and Ive yet to hear a decent reason for the whole team being invited without Dinozzo/why the rest of the team were happy to be so(I can't believe Abby or Ducky at least would wonder about his absence) and then after Jeanne the way McGee and Ziva treat Tony is appalling, and when he finally snaps, Ziva gets on her high horse and demands an apology.
Which leads me to the finale of S6. ITs only recently shown here on terestial, and where the hell does Ziva get off??? SHe refused to believe that her lover was out of control, let lust and perhpas some love cloud her judgement, expects Gibbs to choose her over Tony, and acted as if Tony would actually have shot her lover out of jealousy over her. Ummm???Really? Total double standard. She fell for the dead man walking, yet is perfectly happy to rib Tony over Jeanne. He does it back, she goes ape. TOny fell for his mark, she fell for her partner-neither situation is really kosher yet in her case its 'love' and in his its foolishness.

I've heard not great things over S7, with Tiva being more and more in evidence, pushed harder. Say it isn't so??



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