'Standard Clitoris™'

Test

Last week I was at Minneapolis' very own CONvergence convention. A fantastic time was had! Obviously, attending a large public event in the current viral climate is not without risk; but I felt considerably more secure in matters given that (a) the organizers had capped attendance at 3,500 (half the size of the previous year), (b) required all attendees show proof of vaccination and (c) instituted a mask mandate.

Unfortunately, post-event, it was determined that an attendee has tested positive for COVID and had informed the organizers as such. They in turn notified all other event-goers, and provided information on the afflicted individual's path through the convention for contract-tracing purposes.

Unfortunately, it transpired that the two of us had attended a panel together; and despite the extremely unlikely possibility of having contracted COVID from this person, the sensible course of action was to go get tested myself.

This did not fill me with joy. As I have previously documented, there is a facet of my younger self - splintered by trauma - that bristles at certain medical interventions... And I knew this would be one of them.

At the start of the pandemic, my spouse required a routine medical procedure; and in advance of that, was required to get a COVID test. I drove them to the in-car test site, and my spouse rolled down the passenger-side window to talk to a fully geared-up nurse.

As many are no doubt aware, those first COVID tests required collecting a sample from the very, very furthest reaches of the sinuses; using what is essentially an extremely long Q-Tip. While not necessarily a painful experience, it can be irritating at best and deeply unpleasant at worst.

Both my spouse and I were a little taken aback when the nurse instructed them to tilt their head back and place their hands firmly on their knees because, and I quote, "Trust me, you will try to stop me".

The nurse swabbed my spouse's sinuses, and it was fine, and other than my spouse feeling like they had been somehow poked in the back of the eyeball, all was good. I, however, was a nervous wreck; because this act had in my mind overstepped the threshold of acceptable bodily integrity violation.

(How does that work? I can't say, as it isn't rational. I am pro-science, pro-safety, pro-vaccine; but the damaged part of me responds viscerally and insensibly to certain medical procedures - evidently of which, this was one.)

Later, my spouse experienced a terrible cold; and their general practitioner recommended another COVID test to be safe. This was at a walk-in clinic, and even though I remained in the car, I still ended up shaking at the thought that my beloved was being harmed in some way.

I have spent far too much time since then conceiving of how I might be required to submit to a COVID test myself some day, and how that would effect me. Fast-forward to that day.

There was a no-appointment clinic near our house. They have a rather slick online registration system; there were some issues completing the process, but a person met me at the parking lot and helped finalize matters. Then they went to retrieve their test apparatus.

Now, to the credit of the test manufacturers: they had clearly taken steps to improve the (deservedly-maligned) collection kit. The swab was a little shorter; no longer needed to reach the very back of the sinuses; featured a very slim, flexible stem (particularly helpful for deviated septum-sufferers); and the cotton tip had been replaced by a small, gentle sponge.

The technician was very nice and explained that they would gently hold the swab in place for the count of five, and in turn I explained that I'm sure everything would be fine and painless - but there was a possibility that I might become upset afterwards and that it was absolutely not their fault.

Then I scrunched up my eyes and held my hedgehog friend very tightly and the technician inserted the swab in my nose and ran it about inside my head and true to her word, the experience was not in the slightest bit unpleasant.

I then proceeded to thank her, albeit stutteringly, because as predicted this invasion of my bodily space had still had a triggering effect. I received my results less than an hour later and they were, of course, negative. Three hours after that, I stopped crying.

It's so strange - yesterday I had laser hair removal; and per my request, the technician turned the power up quite high. There were some moments when it really stung; but... nothing. Not a trigger. Likewise, in a few days I have to get my second HPV immunization; and despite knowing that it will sting (the manufacturer attests this to the "Virus-like particles" it contains), that should be fine too.

Why am I freaked out by some medical procedures, and not others? I really don't know. Probably there's a logic to it; but if there's a pattern, I've yet to discern it...

Nice moment

Our youngest cat was crying for attention from the kitchen this morning. I walked in to find her on the countertop, and when I came near she put a paw up.

I think I understood, so I bent down a little and she jumped onto my shoulder. Then I walked over to the fridge, and she jumped on top of the fridge.

Now she is singing from on top of the fridge. I’m not quite sure what happened, but it was a nice moment we shared.

Blank lines

I would like to meet the Microsoft employee that oversaw the inclusion of Visual Studio's infamous "Apply Cut or Copy to blank lines when there is no selection" feature and shake them firmly by the C5 vertebrae.

Dresses

Each year my company celebrates Christmas with an all-employee dinner. I greatly enjoy socializing with my colleagues, but I’ve always found these events a bit overwhelming and have tried to dodge them where ever possible.

Not this year however! I am out, and very much planned to celebrate in style... Which, of course, did not happen (what with there being a very disruptive killer virus on the loose and all).

All the same, I bought myself a delightful Christmas dress - I was particularly smitten with the lacy sleeves. So imagine my confusion when it arrived, and instead of getting the dress on the left:

...I received the one on the right (sans sleeves).

Two months later, I realize that these are in fact two entirely different dresses and that I had mistakenly ordered the second one on the insane assumption that the brand only carried the one sangria-colored number.

I... am not a smart girl.

Delightfully, they still had the original dress in stock (and only in my size to boot); so I have one winging it’s way to me now!

My spouse is now a fully-fledged Necron Phaeron; and I could not be prouder of them!

(Seriously, though; it’s been a real pleasure, watching them pick up new techniques and sharpen their brush skills at warp speed. I can’t wait to see what they do next!)

Started my journey into Warhammer painting after getting a kit for Christmas. I thought i'd show off a few of the figures I've painted.

(please be nice, I'm so new to miniature painting)

I love these lil Necron dudes. I'm told using all metallic paint was the equivalent of learning to swim in the deep end. 🤷 I'm also hearing using a cold palette is unusual, too. 🫠 Maybe I'm doing it wrong?

Band-aids

I’m eight or nine sessions into laser hair removal on my legs; and minus some sparse patches that have so far escaped destruction, my getaway pins are now effectively hair-free.

This has an unexpected upside: Band-aids are trivial to remove.

Which is good, because I have to stick one on my leg every two weeks due to my shot!

Holding out

During last week's singing lesson, Chelsea - my instructor - proposed that I try my hand at the classic Can't Help Falling In Love. This represents an interesting challenge, as the chorus reaches all the way up to B4 (and my current range quickly falters at around G4 and above).

I really wanted to nail this, so I made a point of practicing extensively every day this week. Unfortunately it became quickly apparent that the persistent cold I've been dealing with has now taken up residence in my chest; and that this was severely hampering my efforts.

Suffice to say, I was more than a little trepidatious as to how today's lesson would go!

At one point we started working on switching from chest voice to head voice (a process whereby you close certain vocal muscles, pitching the voice up). I generally struggle to do this on command, but there is one specific line in one specific song where it I find it easy (and indeed, had started to switch into head voice long before I even knew that was a thing).

I was demonstrating this and Chelsea paused: "You know that", (checks reference note), "...You just hit a C4, right? That's higher than what we've been working on. You've been holding out on me!"

...And I was just filled with the most girlish sense of glee!

(Evidently I need not have worried.)

Due to scheduling, my next lesson will be in a little over a week and a half; so let's see if I can't spend the intervening time nailing those high notes!

“We constantly battle the sins of the fathers, thought Guilliman. That is no less true on an eternal scale than it is within the history of a single world. We suffer because of those that have gone before.

Heaving a sigh, the Primarch resumed the protracted process of correcting his unruly VLOOKUP.”

- Guy Haley, Dark Imperium

It is kind of funny that the entire fandom have agreed that Perturabo’s nickname is “Perty”, when he in canon has a perfectly fine nickname.

A newfound pain: addendum

Not that this is in any way, shape or form a surprise but... sheer tights are fragile. Like, super fragile. You so much as even look at them the wrong way and a run spontaneously appears!

This makes lace look positively durable in comparison...

How it started, versus how it's going...

I grew up in the UK, 30 minutes from Games Workshop's Nottingham headquarters; and my childhood heavily featured their games, miniatures, and routine trips to the local Games Workshop store.

During this time, I developed a particular affection for the work of Jes Goodwin. Initially an artist and sculptor, Jes' work was strongly geometric in nature; and displayed an unusually high degree of consistency (a particularly noteworthy achievement during a period where miniatures were sculpted by hand with ad-hoc tools).

For reference - one of Jes' early sketches of a Space Marine in Mk. VI armor; as featured in the guide that accompanied the very first Space Marine paint set:

I actually had the pleasure of meeting Jes in person at Games Day '94; and one of my treasured possessions is the souvenir program, which he kindly autographed:

During my teenage years, I came to possess a handful of Chaos Champions sculpted by Jes. As was so often the case in those early years, the miniatures had been designed as dual use; combining the sort of medieval aesthetics that would warrant inclusion in the Warhammer Fantasy Battle setting, but also the occasional technological greeble that would justify use in Warhammer: 40,000.

As I generally kept to the latter system, I set about cutting up and remodeling these miniatures, with the aim of making the science-fiction elements more explicit. And I was very happy with the end results, too!... Which makes it all the more unfortunate that these miniatures were lost when I relocated to the US.

Two decades later, and I have taken it upon myself to recreate these miniatures (albeit with the full advantage of the skills I have developed in the interim). The first mini on the chopping block is 021919 from the 1989 Citadel Catalog (frequently referred to by its most obvious physical characteristic, "Nurgle Chaos Champion With Fly Mutation"):

(It feels vaguely sacrilegious, taking a razor saw to what is now technically an antique; but I very much subscribe to the DIY mentality that was so prevalent during the initial Rogue Trader days, and - given that the model originates for the same time period - keeping the old traditions alive seems only appropriate.)

In my original conversion, I removed the haft and blade of the axe; and positioned an old Space Ork plasma cannon over the now unobscured shoulder. I also replaced the sandaled foot and exposed fly-mutated leg with their armored equivalents from a Space Marine Devastator.

This time I around, I opted to angle the right arm, to add a greater sense of movement; and completely reposition the left arm, as if to calling out a target:

(In doing so, I created a great many headaches for myself: the right hand snapped off at the wrist, and had to be repaired. Cutting the left arm free necessitated cutting through the hand; and the pins I inserted into the remains of the palm broke free, requiring JB Weld to resecure.

I cannot underscore the frustration inherent to these two experiences; at the same time, I'm a great believer in the idea that growth as an artist demands taking risks - up to and including potentially ruining one's art.)

The original version of the conversion also featured an extended barrel (fabricated from the Lord Fuegan's firepike, and a handful of random Genestealer claws). However, I wanted to replace this with something a little more appropriate for a follower of the Lord Of Pestilence; which ended up being the better part of a Plague Spewer:

In terms of next steps: I intend to strap a canister of goo-based ammunition to his left side; and continue to add new detailing to hide the various cuts and joins.