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Big news for the day: we went to a local shelter and adopted two cats. We've been thinking about doing this since getting over the initial grieving for our old cat, and the shelter opened again today after the holiday down-time, so we went, thinking "well, we'll just look," and "maybe kittens!" and of course ended up with two adult cats, who are settling in now - meaning that Kurtz (we named neither of them, but I think the names are sticking), the 5-year-old orange tabby, came out of his carrier and told us yes, this was home, didn't we know he'd always lived there, and he would like access to the entire house now, thank you. Whereas Lancelot, the almost-solid-black 2-year-old, is hiding under Younger Son's bed. But he was sociable enough at the shelter, so I think he'll come around. Photos when I haz them.
In other news, I finished and posted the Irrelevant Gift Exchange story yesterday; it's a Root and Shaw sorta-gen coda to 3.10 "The Devil's Share," with baked goods, called Advent Cookies. I'm glad my recipient liked it, and it turned out okay, but it was a painful slog to get through even 1460 words of it. There are just times that the writing muse deserts me entirely, and this is clearly one of them, so don't be expecting anything new in the fannish realm from me in the near future, and I hope I can get that Time and Fevers epilogue written without writhing and gnashing of teeth. But perhaps I'll be more in the mood for marketing plans and PowerPoints, so all is good.
I'm pretty sure I won't be watching the new Sherlock episodes before they start airing on PBS later this month; just can't be arsed to acquire them otherwise. I've managed to block Sherlock-tagged posts on tumblr, and people are being pretty good about tagging, so I shouldn't get too spoiled. Meanwhile (still fighting the cold, still tired in the evenings - hey, in the afternoons) I watched most of Doctor Who season 4 again - oh Donna, you are still wonderful, and I'm still angry at the end of the season, though I think it may be only in part because what happened didn't need to happen and in part because it just wasn't given enough time. This is a common problem, this "let's do a really big and horrible thing in the last five minutes because we had to spend way too much time earlier in the show blowing stuff up" issue. Or the equivalent for other distractions (like Norwegian scenery), or for simply Too Much Plot. I think I might have been okay with the Donna thing if it had been discussed more. Or reacted to more, or in other ways than the David Tennant Patented Determined and Sad Stare. Or if the show managed to meta-analyze the theme of forgetting better (since it turned up rather neatly in "The Day of the Doctor" as well as lots of other places). This is obviously too much to ask; I do realize that. And I do applaud them for ticking off as many boxes as they did in that whiz-bang double-parter (I am never not going to laugh at the opening credits whipping out triple the names they usually have time and space for).
I need to go play with a cat now.
In other news, I finished and posted the Irrelevant Gift Exchange story yesterday; it's a Root and Shaw sorta-gen coda to 3.10 "The Devil's Share," with baked goods, called Advent Cookies. I'm glad my recipient liked it, and it turned out okay, but it was a painful slog to get through even 1460 words of it. There are just times that the writing muse deserts me entirely, and this is clearly one of them, so don't be expecting anything new in the fannish realm from me in the near future, and I hope I can get that Time and Fevers epilogue written without writhing and gnashing of teeth. But perhaps I'll be more in the mood for marketing plans and PowerPoints, so all is good.
I'm pretty sure I won't be watching the new Sherlock episodes before they start airing on PBS later this month; just can't be arsed to acquire them otherwise. I've managed to block Sherlock-tagged posts on tumblr, and people are being pretty good about tagging, so I shouldn't get too spoiled. Meanwhile (still fighting the cold, still tired in the evenings - hey, in the afternoons) I watched most of Doctor Who season 4 again - oh Donna, you are still wonderful, and I'm still angry at the end of the season, though I think it may be only in part because what happened didn't need to happen and in part because it just wasn't given enough time. This is a common problem, this "let's do a really big and horrible thing in the last five minutes because we had to spend way too much time earlier in the show blowing stuff up" issue. Or the equivalent for other distractions (like Norwegian scenery), or for simply Too Much Plot. I think I might have been okay with the Donna thing if it had been discussed more. Or reacted to more, or in other ways than the David Tennant Patented Determined and Sad Stare. Or if the show managed to meta-analyze the theme of forgetting better (since it turned up rather neatly in "The Day of the Doctor" as well as lots of other places). This is obviously too much to ask; I do realize that. And I do applaud them for ticking off as many boxes as they did in that whiz-bang double-parter (I am never not going to laugh at the opening credits whipping out triple the names they usually have time and space for).
I need to go play with a cat now.
