(no subject)

this is freaky. my story that I'm writing? the angel one? remember that?

Well, I'm re-reading Archangel, by Sharon Shinn, which I read years ago, when it first came out. 1996, maybe 97. And not again since, I don't think. But some of the things I did in my story are there as well. :-) there's a temperature difference for her angels, though she went for them being hotter instead of colder. and the main character just woke up under the wing of an angel. He's not a naked angel though but he *is* scantily clad (rather like Sperry, come to think of it.), and he would get naked if she asked him to. And she hasn't told him she'd like to see him naked either, but it is true, and we all know it.

If you haven't read this book, you need to. You need to read all of her stuff, really. This one is *so* beautiful, and the world building is both perfect and precisely metered out--it was perhaps complex and slightly confusing the first time I read it--not on the surface level, but on the levels of the story that you knew are there behind the words. But having read all there of the books in this series, I know the truth, and I can see, as I read, all the little points even in it that build up to the "aha!" moment being more of a "well duh!" moment. Only not quite that rude. Maybe more of an "Of course! How stupid am I!"

And I will regret staying up this late tomorrow when I am getting up for meeting. (Michelle, my friend staying with me, is Convinced. She's the first person I've Convinced myself, but I've taken others to meeting as well, and they've really liked it. The podling for example, though I'm sure plenty of people would be surprised to hear that she can sit still and silent for an hour.) But I've noticed that for me, sometimes, reading is like meeting. it's quiet and still and peaceful, and when it's a book I love this much, it's the only thing I pay attention to, and it wraps all around me and I don't care how late it is, or if I'm cold or my legs cramp from how I'm sitting. I only care how much more of the book I have to read. Thank heavens, at least, that I have Jovah's Angel here as well, so I can read that tomorrow.

(no subject)

My life is just thrills a minute. I pulled my plantar's Fascia walking with my friend and her boyfriend Friday--I walk slowly, not because I can't walk faster but because when I walk faster I pull my PF. which I forget. So I woke up Saturday and my foot hurt. not quite can't put it on the ground hurt, but certainly close enough to that for me. It was fairly uck outside anyways, and I hadn't had any plans, so I just kicked back and sat with my foot bandaged and up all day (I did have to go grocery shopping so shelle and rob would have things to eat, but due to freakishly waking up at 10, I was done by 1, and just sat around being pathetic for the rest of the day.

The most annoying things about having to have my foot wrapped at all times: If it's not wrapped exactly right, my toes tingle a lot and fall asleep at the drop of a hat. My toes get cold easily. If my foot is propped up, it falls asleep even easier yet. It's hard to wear a sock with it like that. It's even harder to wear shoes. Showering, the one thing I *can't* do in a bandage really hurts. But I can walk. I can stand and cook dinner last night and lunch today. I walked to meeting. I don't *need* shoes on at all times, though it probably would be better if I wore them anyways. It doesn't throb persistently while I'm trying to do other things.

We all went to meeting today, which was really nice. It started snowing while we were there, so they decided to head home instead of going to the holocaust museum. But while we were there, and while I was watching the snow flakes through the window as we sat in silence (Silence in the winter months is a lot louder than silence the rest of the time. Coughs, sneezes, and *lots* of sniffles are part of silence in the winter.), I was thinking about snowflakes and life and the freaky people like Ashcroft. They are related, you'll see.

See, when you watch snowflakes from a distance, it looks uniform and planned. they're all falling the same way at about the same speed. But when you look at them up close, they're all doing their own thing. They're not falling in anything resembling a coherent pattern. they're going side ways, they're moving at different speeds, they're floating back up. But they all get to the same place in the end. Which is life.