Old man, wonder if you'll ever know...

This song used to creep me out, and yet I loved it.
Correction: This song still creeps me out, and I still love it.

Ground control to Major Tom,
Your circuit's dead,
There's something wrong.

Can you hear me, Major Tom?

Perhaps since Superman II, I've been creeped out by the idea of dying in space. Since I'm a little too young to have caught the late David Bowie's 'Space Oddity' first time around, it was probably on Pick of the Pops with Alan 'Fluff' Freeman that I first came across and was creeped out by the story of astronaut and reputed junkie Major Tom and his highly desirable shirts. Unlike most songs that I found disturbing, however, I loved this one from the first, and perhaps that's why Bowie has retained a stronger presence in my mind than many other artists.

Part of me wishes I could share some story of the deep and profound effect Bowie's music had on me, and if nothing else the fact that I chose to discuss him here in my life blog instead of one of my more media related efforts shows that he did have some impact, but all in all I'm not the guy who is that into music. My tastes and my music collection have always been eclectic, and the dawn of the digital age freed me from the need to buy albums, but I've always been aware that Bowie was one of those artists who popped up from time to time, with something new; and actually new, rather than running on nostalgia and fame.

I mean, we're talking about a guy who recorded songs with Queen, Nine Inch Nails, Bing Crosby and Mick Jagger and has had two existential/mystical cop dramas (four if you count both US adaptations of Life on Mars) named after his songs; how many other people can say that*?

Anyway, in the absence of anything profound to add to the discussion, I shall simply include a link to perhaps Bowie's greatest work**.

* I haven't checked, but I'm pretty confident it's none.
** Seriously, I love this song.

It Takes a Polyamorous Relationship Cluster to Raise a Child

Why would you tell me this? What reason do I have to assume that they aren't?

Various members of our cluster* seem intent on teaching Arya to make things. I can't really make anything crafty. I guess I'll be teaching her to cook and doing the basic moral guidance via storytelling, since I'm pretty useless at making things.

In other news, as I flagrantly underuse this blog, it's Chriiiistmaaas! Well, it's advent anyway. That means Christmas shopping, so my balance is a fair bit lighter than it was this morning. So it goes; I just hope that people like what I've got them, since that's the real point; not to spend money, but to give gifts and give pleasure.

I'm looking forward to Christmas with Arya. It's her third, but her first as a fully communicative being. Should be a lot of fun.

* I have no idea if this is the appropriate term, but I figure I won't go far wrong borrowing from Sense8

George Vernon Hudson Appreciation Day

Hanna and I have some difference of
opinion on the Powerpuff Girls, but I
can't deny that they pulled an Alan
Davies attributing daylight savings to
Ben Franklin.

I am absurdly excited at the prospect of swimming this Sunday being an hour later due to being in GMT. All in Chez Morningstar are pretty knackered at the moment, with even my daughter complaining that 'I sleepy' and demanding that people (well, mostly me) 'leave me alone again'. It is in this delicate state that we have to face the explanation of the difference between slapstick comedy and physical abuse.

It is also in this condition that I seem to have been declared arbiter of allowable partners for our traditionalish family board games New Year. This is choppy waters for me. I don't want to be down on other partners, but I also don't want to end up the fifth wheel and I really, really don't want to end up curled up in a ball in my bedroom like I did last birthday. Granted, that's a worst case scenario, but best not to be careless.

Partly the problem is that I want to be fair, but inevitably I don't mind Andrew's girlfriend being there because she doesn't cut into my time with Hanna; if anything her being there gives me more time with Hanna. But if I say yes to her, how is it fair to say no to Hanna's boyfriend? It isn't, is the answer, but I'm not sure it isn't something I might have to do from the standpoint of my own mental and emotional well being, so should I then say no to Sam as well? In some ways it would be easier if I had a problem with Hanna having another boyfriend in general (well, apart from the all-but insoluble question of terminology once the clear-cut husband/boyfriend dyad is expanded) rather than just struggling with a few specific instances. I could just be all 'nuh-uh' and not have to worry about offending people.

Of course, I'd also be a dick, so there's that.

Also, if they do come to the gather, what is the etiquette regarding chores. I mean, if we're at my place then they're guests, so I can't ask them to do the washing up, but on the other hand I might feel mean dragging Hanna or Andrew away to get the dishes. On the gripping hand, I can't do it all myself; that way madness lies, and I'm not even being particularly hyperbolic. It was feeling all excluded and struggling with a pile of washing up at the far end of the flat that left me in a major meltdown at the start of the year.

Mutant Enemy Days

It's been a bit of a day so far.

I woke up, rolled over to see how long I had to go until my 6 o'clock alarm, and found that it was 6:35. Either the alarm didn't go off, or I cancelled it without even noticing; either way, I was running late, so I had to rush out of the house without tea.

Grr. Argh!

I got into work, had a shower, then came to the office and found that my computer wouldn't connect to the internet. At all.

Grr. Argh!

So I switched to another computer/desk (which means all my calls are coming to the wrong place) and I still can't connect to the damned printer.

To top it all, I had a long and boring meeting full of waffle and back and forth and magical thinking ("We don't have that much money," "Yes, but let's assume we can find some more somewhere...") which ran on and on until Hanna's lunch break was over so I didn't get to talk to her on the phone. By this point it was 2 o'clock and, like the Sweeney, I hadn't had my dinner, so...

Grr. Argh!

On a lighter note, dear readers, I leave you with something I noticed on my bag of Minstrels yesterday.

This slogan is used apparently without irony.
I didn't know that was still possible.

Conspiracy Theories in Polyamorous Relationships

There is always the fear, in polyamory, that your partners and metamors are plotting against you. I have proof that this is happening to me, from our holiday game of Ticket to Ride.

Me: "Wait, wait. That's a grey route."
Andrew: "Yes."
Me: "But you played an orange card."
Hanna: "You can play any cards to build grey routes."
<beat>
Me: "And you didn't think this was something that I needed to know?"

I'm not saying I would have won (Hanna played a bravura game, completing a long route across the north of the map after which we couldn't touch her), but I might have been in contention for second if I'd not been saving black cards to make grey routes, assuming that the black routes were dark green and mistaking the green cards for yellow.

I'm just saying, right, that you can't spell conspiracy without piracy, and they can still hang you for that.

So very British

Hanna: What do we do!?
Arya: WE DRINK!

It was one of those situations, you know? We were having breakfast at Chiquito's, the service was slow as the chef was late in arriving, and the order was off, so the manager said: "It's on the house."

Shit.

I'm not prepared for this. I don't know what to do. I'd struggle to complain if I were truly hacked off at them, but drop a free meal on me for a few minor inconveniences (the meal was still very good) and I'm lost. Hanna was no better. I was sweating; she started to hyperventilate as the manager asked if we wanted anything else; all on the house.

Order food that we know we don't need to pay for? That's... That's like inviting us to steal, isn't it? I don't think we could have asked for anything else if we'd wanted it.

And how do you leave? You can't ask for a bill, so what's your procedure. We just had no experience to help us deal with this.

We are so goddamn British.

Life, it's what you make it

I was initially a little grumpy about the price, but this is definitely 95p
worth of toast. (I may have had, like, no pictures to put on this.)

I'm a big one for routine, I can not deny it; a creature of habit. I like my morning cuppa, my early Friday home time and Sunday brunch with Hanna and Arya.

But there is more to life than routine, so I am super excited at the prospect of a family weekend away. It's at Alton Towers, so it's not cheap, but it's mostly all in and we get to take Arya to CBeebies Land, which ought to be a hit. It's likely to be pretty nerve wracking keeping an eye on her in the crowds, but it should be a good weekend all told.

Less awesomely, we missed the renewal letter for Arya's swimming classes, which means we'll be canceling from next term, not this term. It's a shame, because it would ease off Sunday mornings a lot and I was kind of hoping to put that money into the holiday.On the other hand, it's not like we were planning to stop taking her swimming. Having got her into a bath last weekend without any tears, I'm keen not to let her get out of the habit of water.

Medkit, 40K style.

Other new things on the horizon are making my own kit for No Rest for the Wicked (embroidery by Hanna) and modding Nerf guns for same. I'm currently creating a book and stocking a medkit, for which I have picked up 100 centrifuge vials and 100 plastic syringes, and plan to get some paper and sherbet or something to make some patented powders.