It’s the three-year adoption anniversary of our skunk. Three years ago today we drove cross-country to Iowa to pick out a baby ball of fuzz to bring home. He slept in my arms for the whole drive back, and continues to sleep in my arms every night. Hobkin makes me laugh, helps put things into perspective when the world threatens to spiral out of control, and wedges his nose under my chin when I need someone soft and warm to hug.
To celebrate the occasion, I bought a carton of blueberries, fed him his favorite veggies along with the berry treats, and gave him a teeny taste of cherry pie. And when he got all tuckered out, I took pictures:
Our neighbors are very Steppford Wives when it comes to the ornamental horticulture in the subdivision. They get upset if people don’t edge their lawns and water them during dry spells; everything’s very homogeneously landscaped and tamed within an inch of its photosynthesized life. I prefer a more wilderness approach to flora. I suspect if our neighbors ever looked into our backyard, they’d be scandalized. fosteronfilm keeps the front and sides scrupulously mowed, and the walking bits of the back likewise sheered, but we have a section of our backyard that we let grow as it will. It’s hidden by a six foot privacy fence, so it shouldn’t bother any of our neighbors unless they’re being nosy (which I suspect happens). We love the secluded view it gives from our kitchen windows. The sylvan glade-esque ambiance makes it feel like we’re nestled in the middle of a deep forest. It’s a soothing vista that has inspired a number of my stories.
Yesterday I wrote, so here are some pictures of Hobkin for those of you who skip over the “Writing Stuff” portion of my journal:
Napping and being my muse
We violated a very important skunk house rule today. Never leave stray objects within reach, especially when Hobkin is unsupervised. I popped out of the room for a second, and when I came back, I found Hobkin shredding a stray paper towel and then going back for the mail. So, instead of shooing him off, I grabbed the camera and started clicking:
Hobkin has an upset tummy. His appetite is way down, and he’s feeling sorry for himself, alternating between being stompy and short tempered, to needing cuddles NOW.
Here he is wrapped up in blankies with a decidedly unhappy look about him
Poor little guy. He hasn’t sicked up, but from examining his litter box, all is definitely not well. Been feeding him bread soaked in Pepto Bismol and extra plain yogurt. He’s not dehydrated, which is always my first concern, especially since he doesn’t drink, so we haven’t called the vet. And he’s still eating, just not a lot.
I do have to wonder, considering how close this happened to my feeling under the weather if we’re passing around some flu thing.
Finally sent in my guest application to Dragon*Con. So much for my good intentions to get it done bright and early. But hey, at least it’s before the deadline.
Received 7 more crits from Critters. (Including yours, nmsunbear and aimeepoynter. Thank you!!) The tale continues to be fairly well received. There are exceptions, of course, like the guy who started off his critique “I’m not sure if you were going for a kids market with this story.” Makes me wonder how much of it he actually read, since I state quite clearly in my author’s notes that this is intended for younger readers. Oh well. Can’t please everyone.
Words: 1180 on A Harmony of Foxes. Hit a productive patch for a while there. And hey, I’m past the one-quarter mark.
Club 100 For Writers
Hobkin woke me up at the ungodly hour of 7AM this morning. How did he wake me up? By hitting me in the face with his tail, and then using my breast as a launching pad to the floor. Ooof. I think that’s going to leave a bruise.
My mood appears to have leveled out to a point where I can ignore it or deal with it, as need be. I’m very fortunate that my depressive episodes tend to be brief, and mostly manageable. I assume it helps that I can recognize the symptoms in myself so quickly and usually head things off before they spiral out of control. ‘Course I haven’t had to deal with truly severe depression, which I doubt my coping mechanisms would be able to handle as well. But that’s what psychotropics are for, right?
I expect to have a couple job interviews this week. I’m in a good situation with both of them, in that if they don’t offer me the position, I’m okay with it. I’m not sure how long I can afford to maintain that sort of cavalier attitude, but for now, it’s a luxury I’m indulging in.
Did a Critters critique, my first in longer than I can remember (for your story, britzkrieg). I’m very behind in writing reviews of Strange Horizons for Tangent. For some reason, my enthusiasm for the exercise is down. I don’t know why.
I was admiring the artwork for “The Storyteller’s Wife” (see this post to view it), and I just can’t get over how much the illustrator, Heather Hudson, got the “Hobs” character to look like Hobkin (which, of course, he was inspired by). I’m just tickled. Makes me grin every time I look at it.
Detail of illustration.
And, for comparison, a couple pictures of Hobkin:
Got Elektra from Netflix yesterday. It was beautiful. Fantastic cinematography, amazing fight choreography, gorgeous imagery. Now if we’d only turned the volume off. This Eastern-influence thing on Hollywood is great and all, but why the hell are they also incorporating the fragmented, bizarre storytelling? Would it kill them to find a good writer? They can obviously afford top-notch fight directors and trainers! Sheesh. And where the hell was that movie set in? The architecture looked Japanese, except for the population, which was white . . . except for the yakuza assassins, of course. Glargh.
Fun, yes, but really crappy writing. Again.
So this isn’t a total gripe-fest post, fat skunk belly! Yes, Hobkin needs to go on a diet.
It was Hobkin’s birthday yesterday. He’s three years old! Of course, he got cake. Like all intelligent animals, he shoved the veggies aside to get to the dessert.
Matthew’s been watching a lot of movies, even more so than usual, trying to get his Movie Review website in shape. As such, I have been subjected to such classics as Child’s Play 2, Species II, and Pet Cemetery. Just this weekend we watched Ghost in the Shell, Event Horizon, and Rosemary’s Baby. I need my brain scrubbed free of horrific imagery.
So, I took skunk pictures:
Hobkin under his hutch, lounging on his new, ultra fluffy blankie
Thank Gahd! Our webmaster found online Tangent archives at The Wayback Machine. We’re in the process of trying to download them all, but it looks like they exist up through December 2003. Whew.
I spent many hours yesterday restoring the most recent ones. I’m hoping there will be a faster way, but for now, I’m cutting and pasting each one individually. Really, really hoping there’ll be a faster way. There’s a lot of old reviews.
Hobkin has a stuffy nose. He can only smell the sharpest tasting/scented food, so he’ll eat bell peppers and biscuits, but won’t touch tomatoes and cucumbers. Poor lil guy.
Here’s a picture of his nosie, because it’s just that cute: