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Kid Fic Alphabet Soup Entry

S is for Shadows and Substance by Thothmes (PG)

Summary: Parenthood is never easy, because you must parent the child in the moment, planning for the future. A look at SG-1 through their parent's eyes.
Word count: 4,501
Characters: Ronac and Teal'c, Jack and his father, Clare and Daniel Jackson, Jacob and Sam Carter
Era: Pre-Series
Categories: Kidfic, Fic, Genfic
Authors notes: No warnings, presented in birth order according to the show's internal clues about the character's ages.

Exerpt: The boy slept, small thumb hanging from the edge of his mouth, dark, soft, whisps of baby hair plastered in sweat across his brow, chubby cheeks moving as if dreaming of sucking from his mother's breast. Ronac felt a pang, a shiver of fear. He was so small. He had no prim'ta to protect him. Many young Jaffa died in the years before they came of age to receive one, as was right and proper, since only the strong should be granted the gift of long life and vibrant health that the gods gave. Ronac had been shocked on his return, when his wife had put this tiny scrap of a thing into his arms.

"He is too small!" he had gasped, and looked at his wife with disapproval. She was tall, among Jaffa women, only a few inches shorter than he himself, but she was slender. Perhaps he should not have married her for her strong character, and her ready smile. Their offspring was small and weak, and would not thrive.



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S is for Snapshots

S is for Snapshots, by Thothmes (PG 13)

Summary: The government keeps copies of everything going in and out of Homeworld and the S.G.C. Just a few random items from the archives that came across the desk of Rashida Murray as she did her 2153 C.E. PhD thesis on the early years of the Stargate program.
Word count: 4,648
Characters: Hammond, Jack, Daniel, Sam, Teal'c, Janet, Walter, Senator and Mrs. Kinsey, Sara O'Neill, Mayborne, Dr. Brightman, Orlin, Landry, Mitchell, Mrs. Struble, and Siler
Era: A little from each season. Fewer from Nine and Ten, which are rarely Earth based.
Categories: Alphabet Soup, and miscellaneous texture
Author's notes: For those of you who do not remember International Male from back in The Day, consult Wikipedia. Our household somehow ended up with catalogues from them, and I swear that's where Teal'c buys his civvies. The individual episodes that the correspondence relate to are referenced before each item.

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H IS FOR HELPING HANDS, by THOTHMES (PG)

Summary: Everyone needs a little help sometimes.
Word count: 3,366
Characters: Jack, Teal'c, Daniel, Sam, Thor, and offscreen, Hammond
Era: A long time ago in... Who am I kidding? Classic team, somewhere in the middle of their run.
Categories: team, offworld, gen (of course! This is a Soup!)
Author's notes: It seemed like such a good idea at the time. I immediately had a vivid scene in my head, all I needed was to flesh it out, elaborate if you will. I signed up with alacrity. This one had practically written itself. "Thhpppbbbbtttt!" said Muse. "This is offworld. I don't do offworld. And that scene? Won't work. Start over!"


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In Colorado Springs two thirds of workers in the science field are women, yet the median income for women in science fields is a mere 42% of men's. No wonder Sam arrived for that briefing in Children of the Gods with a bit of a chip on her shoulder. Someone in the elevator on her trip down had let slip how much Dr. Lee was making.

It seems likely, given how late in the series it was that General Hammond threatened to fire Felger because he had such a woeful track record, at least it was not his salary that was setting her off. If Jack knew, he'd be very, very grateful. He likes his to be not only on the outside, but more importantly, still there!
Here is my contribution for today's Gen Fic Day Alphabet Soup

Title: Time Travel Alphabet Soup - J is for Just a Little Pocket Change

Season/Episode: Season 2, 1969

Warnings: Duh... it's time travel. Don't blame me if your brain ends up in a bit of a knot!

Disclaimer: No prophet, no profit, no reason to come after me. Really!




Time Travel Alphabet Soup – J is for Just a Little Pocket Change



The woods were quiet, and the fire had died down to embers. The only sound was the sound of the wind in the trees, and an occasional truck downshifting, out of sight up on the road. This particular campsite had been one of the less desirable ones because it was closer to the road, but Jack and Michael, who had picked it out, were more interested in price than communing with nature. The midnight hour had passed long ago, and the others were on the bus, asleep. Well, all except for Teal'c. He would have waited for Jenny and Michael to be sound asleep, and then risen from his pretended sleep to kel'no'reem.

Jack was not ready to sleep, not now, and not anytime soon. Some of it was the inactivity, he knew. Jenny and Michael seemed to be in no particular hurry, and he supposed that if he wanted to get in a run (in his combat boots!) they could get a later start in the morning, but they couldn't afford to miss the solar flares, and if Daniel was not able to get the location of the Stargate out of Catherine, then they would need every single second of the time between flares to try to find the thing, or they were trapped. And that would be unacceptable. Better to drive them all crazy with the restlessness that came when his energy had no other outlet, than to face the problem of what to do with Junior if they couldn't get away. Even Daniel, who seemed to show a particularly low tolerance to Jack's fidgets and drumming would choose that over an early death for Teal'c any day. Year. Time.

Man, oh man, Jack hated time travel. That was the problem, wasn't it? Time. Carter said it was like a river, with currents, eddies, and a destination. She said he shouldn't do anything to change it, that a little thing could make his home, his time, unrecognizable. There was something about butterflies and the weather too, but he didn't quite follow that one. Because he was thinking about the stuff in his pocket.

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As promised, here is the shippier of my two offerings for this year's Advent Calendar on sj_everyday



Title: Secret Santa

Author: Thothmes

Season: Eight

Warnings: Okay, for you Pete haters: He is mentioned. He does not appear. It's safe. For those of you who have to research and find every weird thing you read about: No, these renditions of the first two Christmas songs do not exist [I hope!] and so far as I know the hats are not commercially available. We do have a pretty amusing family favorite Santa hat here where the trim around the brow which is traditionally white is holstein spotted, but it is utterly appropriate Vermont SantaWear.

Spoilers: Do you know Pete exists? No? Stop reading then... Oh... You may have a point there. Sorry!

Disclaimer: You know, oh individuals and corporations that actually own the intellectual property, you've been letting me fly off the radar for years now, because I am not profiting, and I put the characters back nicely when I am done playing. Don't I have some kind of adverse possession thing in place by now? Anyway, all I am doing is seeing Sam and Jack through a spot of loneliness, and sweetening their Christmas. Why would you want to discourage that?

And if all else fails... LOOK! OVER THERE! ON THE WEST COAST! A COPYRIGHT VIOLATION! QUICK!

[scurries quickly away]


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A Merry Christmas to All! May you never be without the softness and the warmth you crave, and may we all be together again to enjoy the gifts of the season next year.
This is the less shippy of my two offerings for the Advent Calendar over at sj_everyday, because it is in keeping with what is going on at this time in the arc of the show. I'm saving the more overtly shippy one for my Christmas Eve posting.

Title: Christmas Comes But Once A Year

Season: Any season when Carter is a major

Warnings: Look out for the icy patch!... Ooops! Sorry. Wrong holiday special. Oh, and as I mentioned above, this is team, with a bit of ship at the end. More shippy stuff to come on the 24th.

Disclaimer: Look, MGM, etc. It's Christmas, the season of good will and giving. Given that I am not profiting from your property, just playing with the characters for a bit, it would be really Grinchy of you to come after me for that.

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Here (a wee bit late! Sorry, Fig!) is my Friendship Alphabet Soup entry:




Author: Thothmes

Title: Friendship Alphabet Soup - W is for Where There's a Will or an Or

Friendship: Col. O'Neill and Sgt. Siler

Seasons: Seasons 1 through 8, Spoilers for Upgrades, Meridian, Reckoning, Part 2.

Warnings: Mind the giant wrench!... Oh. … Sorry!... Maybe I shouldn't 'a greased it, huh?... Ice bag?

Disclaimer: Okay, so I didn't even write the last three instances of direct speech in this piece. I borrowed them from Reckoning, Part 2, and they belong to the writers of that episode. I never intended to keep them, I didn't use them without crediting, and I'm not - *sniff* - making any money from this, just attempting to amuse folks on the internet in a highly non-viral way, so please don't sue me. I have college educations to save for, and my kids are sweet young things with big limpid eyes, and hopeful smiles. You wouldn't want to leave them in a state of ignorance over four wee lines, would you?

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As far as Sgt. Siler was concerned, officers were like the weather, hard to predict with any accuracy, beyond the ordinary person's control, and capable of greatly affecting the tenor of a working man's day. And like the weather, most of the activity they generated was made way up high where the air was thin, and fell alike on the just and the unjust down below. His personal approach in dealing with all this was to try to keep his head down and keep going, regardless. What can't be changed must be endured, and in general, it wasn't worth having too much of an opinion about the weather.

Now no one had ever asserted that Sgt. Siler was the most adroit or lucky of men. He was no stranger to the infirmary, and he did seem to draw more than his share of stray electricity. He himself considered the number of shocks and jolts he had received to be the natural result of working with the Stargate and the massive electrical infrastructure that was needed to run it. The infirmary, where Siler found himself from time to time, was one of the places where officers and enlisted men encountered each other with regularity, and that was where he first encountered Col. O'Neill.

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Title: G is for Growing Up for Episode Tied Alphabet Soup

Author: Thothmes

Season: Five. The episode is Rite of Passage.

Warnings: Ummm... Why are you reading this if you don't want to be spoiled for Rite of Passage? That said, no big spoilers

Disclaimer: Okay, so I sent them off to games. I sent them out for a night at the opera. Fortunately I didn't have to pay for any of the tickets, and that's good because I'm not making any profit. They don't belong to me, but I do like to make sure that they have some fun, so I'm taking them out for a spin.


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Well it's Memorial Day here in the States, so the icon seemed appropriate.

Title: O is for Ordinary Things for Episode Tied Alphabet Soup

Author: Thothmes

Season: Four. The episode is Beneath the Surface.

Warnings: Nah. Oh, wait! There's talking with a mouth full. I'm the Manners Queen at my house, and that's a capital offense here. Does that count?

Disclaimer: Like the folks on the planet in Beneath the Surface, I'm just borrowing SG-1 (and a few others) and I promise I'll return them, a little cleaner. Unlike the folks of P3R-118, I let them have showers! Gekko, MGM, etc., you should thank me!

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​C is for Coffee
Title: C is for Coffee for On World Alphabet Soup

Author: Thothmes

Title: C is for Coffee for the On-World Alphabet Soup

Season: Any season before Season 8, excluding Season 7

Warnings: Uhhhh... make sure you don't burn your tongue?

Disclaimer: Instant human, just add coffee. Oh, you mean a disclaimer about the fic, not the author. Well, I guess then, that I feel constrained to point out that I did not keep, misuse, permanently maim, or profit from any of the characters in this story - except inasmuch as I may garner some reviews. In fact I have merely caffeinated them, and put them back more alert and ready for action, able to give their full and undivided attention to matters at hand. Oh, and I know it may be indelicate to mention this, but they may also need to take a break to avail themselves of the facilities soon...

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Find the rest of the entries for this Alphabet Soup Here in complete form on DW

and here, abbreviated but with links on LJ
Title: J Is For Just A Bit Off Base, for the On World Alphabet Soup
Author: Thothmes
Seasons: Stargate the movie, through the beginning of Season 8 of SG-1
Spoilers: A whole bunch of minor spoilers for the times when things leak out or people come in to the SGC. Nothing major for anything, really.
Warnings: An Asgard beams in. He beams out. Please don’t drive yourself nuts trying to find the scene in canon. There’s nothing in canon that really prevents it, and I made it up. The other events are canon, and if you want to waste your time tracking them down, don’t let me stomp on your fun.
Disclaimer: I’m not stealing the characters and property of MGM, Gekko, etc. I’m just borrowing them, and putting them back. I’m not even using many of them, and I’m not getting any money for them. Besides, TPTB, you haven’t been using them for far too long, and if we fanfic writers don’t take them out and dust them off from time to time, they’ll fade into non-entities, and won’t be worth anything to you anymore.

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Find the rest of the entries for this Alphabet Soup Here in complete form on DW

and here, abbreviated but with links on LJ
Well, now that Thanksgiving dinner has been made and consumed (I'm soooo looking forward to the lentil soup made from the lamb bone, and having leftover sweet potatoes at lunch tomorrow) it's time to wish all of you living here in the States a happy Thanksgiving, and some of you out there a happy Hanukkah. I hope that your day was rich with blessings.

As always, I am thankful to live here in Vermont where other people vacation. I am thankful for the families that raised me, and the family that raised my husband. Mine were intelligent, gentle, kind, and perceptive with a love of music, books, languages, literature, and travel. His are a passionate and welcoming group with a wide range of interests, a zest for games of all sorts, and a wonderful sense of inquiry and a persistent desire to reach a consensus on a win-win arrangement for every problem. I am thankful to have been granted a life where just when I'm trying to figure out how to turn my lemons into lemonade, somehow I find they've become lemon meringue pie while I wasn't paying attention. I seem to be lucky that way. This afternoon I was enormously thankful for the warmth of the woodstove after a very bracingly chilly five miles of exercise!

This year I have been especially glad for all the old friends I have rediscovered through social media, the acquaintances that I've made connections with that we never would have made back when we were young, and trapped behind the defensive walls of our teenage and young adult insecurities, and for the new people who have set up home in my heart. You bring your interests, your passions, and your experiences into my day, and I am much the richer for it. And finally, here or there, some of you have said from time to time that some words or ideas that I have shared have brightened your day or eased a trouble for a time. That means a great deal to me, because with the karma I've had in my life so far, I'd better be building some great store of karma for the future, so I don't spend it all in one place! Seriously, one and all, I invite you all to share metaphorically in my bounty, and to receive my thanks. You are part of what makes it such a glorious journey.
Peeve the First

I mentioned back on May 13th that in lieu of going out to dinner on that night in May to celebrate our anniversary, Beloved Husband and I were holding out for September 13th, when we could say that we had been married for 33 1/3 years and 1/3 day, a full third of a century. Back in May, we talked to a restauranteur in our community, and made sure he could make modifications to handle my dietary needs (very low cholesterol, plenty of veggies, no pecans or walnuts, carbs better if whole grain, and served in portions amounting to 30 to 40 g carbohydrate max). He looked up for me whether the date was actually one when they were going to be open, and said he was sure he could do something lovely. So far so good.

A week ago Tuesday, we called and officially got our reservation, and I sent the restauranteur my dietary needs and prohibitions as an email, so he could have them to consult when and as needed. I began to search around our small town for babysitters. This is complicated by the fact that when your town is small enough that 21 is the Biggest Elementary School Class EVAR, and this year we will graduate 3 - yes, 3! In some years the pool of available sitters is small. I teach swimming and taught French as a volunteer in the school. I know these kids, and out of the limited pool there are some I would nevereverever trust to watch the high-spirited Whirlwind. By that Saturday I had someone lined up. Whew!

On Tuesday of this week she canceled. Okay. Back to the list. No luck that day. The next day, I succeeded in getting a "I'd love to do it if I don't have to work that night. I can let you know tomorrow afternoon." Never did hear back from her, so I hit the phones Thursday night, and managed to get a classmate of Middle Daughter's who was willing to do it. Whew again!

On the day, I was busy much of the day, getting some cleaning done, getting a meal ready for The Whirlwind, and getting showered and ready in a nice outfit. We only go out every two to three years, so this was an Occasion. Once I was ready, with 10 minutes to go before the babysitter was due, and 40 minutes until our reservation, I sat down to check my email. Maybe one of my kids had written. There was a notification of a Facebook message sent two hours previously. Our sitter had canceled.

Grumps. Despair. A futile attempt to find a substitute close enough to fill in at the last second (as if I hadn't already called almost everyone already).

Finally Beloved Husband called up to the Inn, explained our problem, and asked to have them pack up our meal as takeout.

The ambiance left a little to be desired, ("If it's just you two, why can't I come down? Can I come down and get my light-up stuffie? How is your dinner? Is it sooo good? Daddy, can you save me some of your cheesecake?") but there we were, elegantly dressed, and the company was the best there is. The food was pretty good too.

So - Pet Peeve Number One - Baby Sitters Who Cancel Without Warning Or Consideration

Middle Daughter says it was a case of she decided that she didn't want to do it, and bailed. She told us that she was feeling indisposed. She's all about all the fun of the Fair today. Hmmm... I thought I knew her better than that.

Pet Peeve the Second

Our landline (the only phone that works where we are) has a HORRIBLE BUZZ. Yeah, I was shouting just then. So does it. I called the phone company to troubleshoot it. They had me unplug all the phones and the modem for at least 5 minutes, and then go to the outside box, disconnect the house, and plug an old-fashioned totally wired phone in. Yeah, being middle aged, we have one of those. The disconnecting fixed nothing, the buzz was still there, so the agent said they would send someone out the next day, and that the problem was definitely in their lines, and not within our house. So we expected it to be fixed the next day (Friday). Nope.

Apparently, they decided that since I had a soprano voice, I'd done something wrong. They decided to wait to see if we continued to complain, or if the name on the account (a masculine name) was able to fix what some poor woman could not. Their line test had shown a zero (no problem) so I must be lying.

Beloved Husband called back after our dinner, and got immediate, prompt, courteous agreement that there was indeed a problem, that it indeed needed to be fixed, and that they would send someone as soon as possible (Monday), and oh, by the way, Mr. Posessed-of-a-Bass-Voice, we re-did the line test, and there is indeed a short, and the problem is clearly not in your home.

So - Pet Peeve the Second - Sexism from My Fellow Females, Because Both Agents Were Female

This is not the first time. One of Eldest Daughter's teachers gave her a B for her quarter grade when she had received no grade below an A. He admitted to her that he had erred and told her he would fix it (three separate times!, no action), he told me the same thing (twice!, no action), and when Beloved Husband called, it was fixed the very next day. With a single phone call. The funny thing is that Beloved Husband sounds gentle and polite on the phone, even with people he doesn't care for, because he was raised to be polite. He is not out there Teal'c-ifying them into submission at all!

The Upshot: BAD PEEVES! GO LIE DOWN! NO TREATS FOR YOU!

For you out there who are not Peeves, but f-list instead, thank you for listening. I feel so much better now.

For Lolmac, I Come Bearing Crackfic

This fic is a giftie for Lolmac. A full eight months ago I told her that I could probably come up with a comment fic for this graphic of hers, and here it finally is. IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE GRAPHIC, GO IMMEDIATELY AND SEE IT. I'll wait, and if you don't you may be confused. For those who are not regular visitors to the site, please note that there is mouseover text too. Don't miss half the fun!

Title:Oh Kneel Before Your Gods

Season: Well, before season 10 when TPTB callously assassinated the Asgard without even allowing them to send their regards to their favorite, O'Neill! Late Season 5 maybe?

Spoilers: For the existence and general deportment of Thor, Nirrti, Yu, and Cronus. Oh, and a wee one for Arsenic and Old Lace. Can you find it?

Warnings: Caution, Crackfic Escaped from Comments Due to Size. SILLINESS! Eeeeee!!! It's gen unless you want to squint through your Jack/Thor, Jack/Sam, or Jack/Daniel specs, but you'll have to work it from your end, I think.

Disclaimer: I did not ingest anything that reminded me of the '70's before writing this. I have not been following any rabbits down holes, or talking to little blond girls in blue frocks and pinafores. I freely confess to having spent a few too many moments in front of sitcoms as a child [they were what the school authorities parked us in lieu of recess on rainy days], although because my mother rationed TV, I'm willing to bet I've watched less than you have...

Oh, yeah. That other thing. Don't own them, won't break them, not getting a sweet producing deal. RDA and the rest won't be delivering lines I write, and I will definitely not be able to send my final two kids off to college on the proceeds. I won't even be able to buy a single square of bubble gum.

Be very, very thankful, because if this sitcom actually became a world wide hit, America would have to spend the rest of eternity apologizing for our single-handed utter destruction of world culture.

Oh. Wait. I forgot about The Beverly Hillbillies and Petticoat Junction. And the Kardashians.

Nevermind.

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Enjoy!
In May of 1979 my father, the veteran of 3 failed marriages, then living happily with his girlfriend, sat my boyfriend and I down in the living room, and explained that he'd married three times for the wrong reason. He'd married because he'd seen the beauty and the potential in 3 women, and then these women had failed to change in the ways he'd expected them to do. He explained that marriage put certain societal expectations on a woman, and living together without marriage put a different set of expectations on her. As an unmarried woman people would be more accepting of my putting my priority on my needs and my career, whereas as part of a married couple, they'd expect me to subsume a certain amount of who I was and who I wanted to be into the needs of my husband's career. We were free to choose our path, but couldn't we consider living together, just for a little while?

I'd made a promise to my father that I wouldn't get engaged until he'd had a chance to have his say, and that I'd listen to him with an open heart and mind. I kept my word. I took in all he had to say. We both said that his points were very valid, and we'd consider them. My dad, who is early to bed and early to rise (the night owl biology is all from the other side of the family) said his goodnights and went up to bed.

My boyfriend looked at me, and I looked at him, drowning, as I always do, in his black-lashed blue eyes with the best eye-crinkles of happiness when he smiles.

"Will you marry me?" he said quietly.

I didn't hesitate for a moment. I knew this one was the one: honest and honorable, loyal, loving, and true, intelligent, with a quick, clever sense of humor and the ability to laugh at himself and the conviction that people are good and compromise and finding the win-win solution is the way to live, committed to leaving the world better than he found it, and stubborn enough to ensure that I couldn't just out-stubborn him and win, and yet flexible enough to know when to stand up for his point of view and when to give way, and very, very, very patient. We'll skip over the incidental facts that he's lean (still!) and tall, with unrepentant dark hair that is now shading into "distinguished", and very good in bed, because you don't want to know that. [font="unrepentant"]Oh. Oops.[/font="unrepentant"]

"Yes," I whispered. Much huggage ensued.

The next morning my father took it well.

"I wanted you to make an informed decision," he said. "One that's right for you."

"I did, Dad" I said.

"Good"

Which means that on this day in May, thirty-three years ago, we married. Like all couples, we've had our hard times and our easy times, our good days and our bad (and for some reason we have a positive talent for scheduling our bad days on the same day- it's a gift) but I can honestly say that our decision to marry is one we have never regretted, even for an instant. Dad was right to warn me, because when society tried to put its pressures and expectations on me, I could see them as such, and act accordingly.

A year later, seeing how little our marriage had spoiled our relationship, my dad and his girlfriend snuck down to city hall, and found a justice of the peace to marry them. They have been very happy together. She was the right one, the one he loved for who she was, no alterations needed.

Are we doing anything special today? Well, small gifties, but nothing much else. We're waiting for September 13th, when we will hire a sitter and go out for a Very Fancy Dinner to celebrate 33 1/3 years (a third of a century!) together.
The Whirlwind was (finally) abed. Peace and contentment abounded. Beloved Husband has Tuesdays off, so we were enjoying a few moments of grown-up conversation, with me telling him the most interesting bits of new science/medical/archaeology abstracts that I was finding on-line, him playing a fairly old-style computer game [Empire] while the two of us were keeping half an eye on the NHL playoffs. The Siamese cat came strolling up to get some love and attention.

Something was wrong. Seal Point Siamese come in dark brown and cream, one shading into the other, with white on the tummy. They do not usually have goopy dark pink splotches. Something was wrong.

I gave the cat to Beloved Husband to wipe down with paper towel, and see what could be removed. I went upstairs to The Whirlwind's room, where the light was on.

"I told you if I found your light on after hours, the bulb would be confiscated, so that's gone," I said, "And where is the lipstick you stole from your sister and used on the cat?"

I saw the thing and picked it up, and waited for her answer. Ever seen Jack O'Neill caught red handed deny it absolutely?

"What lipstick?" said The Whirlwind. "Didn't do anything with lipstick!"

This was especially unconvincing since she had pink all over what she was wearing, her stomach, her neck, and in the general time zone of her lips. And I was holding the container that used to hold the lipstick, and its lid, and the pink-smeared tissues she'd tried to clean up a bit with. She's ten. The only way this could be less convincing was if she was a 6'2" fifty-ish male.

My expression registered Highly Dubious on the upper end of the scale.

"Well, maybe a little," she said.

"Go down and report to Daddy," I said, and took the lipstick to Middle Daughter.

"Is this the only one missing?" I said.

She checked.

"Whirlwind!" I called down "Where is the other one you took?"

"In the bottom drawer!" She answered.

At least there was some left of that one.

She and Beloved Husband spent half an hour sliming her with canola oil and wiping lipstick diluted with canola oil off her body. Eventually, she was deemed sufficiently unlikely to ruin clothing enough to don a different outfit and head off to bed, still rather pink, but no longer contagiously so.

The poor patient 16 year old cat has finally, finally grown her whiskers back from the trim The Whirlwind gave her some 6 months ago. The fur under her neck has finally almost grown back from the shave the vet gave her to be able to draw blood for testing back in December, when she went down to less than 4 lbs. and almost died. Now she's going to be splotches of pink for a while. The vet's gonna love that one when we see her at the end of the month.

Have I mentioned that we have forbidden The Whirlwind any makeup, no matter how innocuous and easy to remove, and told Middle Daughter that she needs to keep hers locked up, so that this sort of incident can't happen? That we have provided Middle Daughter with a lock box, which she occasionally uses?

Space aliens. I tell ya', I live with space aliens.
This is my entry for today's Allies Alphabet Soup (here in full on DW) and (here in abridged form on LJ), posted a little ahead of the go-live hour because I'm heading out to visit colleges with Middle Daughter and visit family this week.

Title: Allies Alphabet Soup - U is for Ultimately Unmoved

Season: Pre-series through Season Two, with passing mention of Season Nine and Ten events in a non-spoiler-y way.

Spoilers: The Fifth Race, One False Step, mention of the bad guy race from Seasons Nine and Ten.

Warnings: BEHIND YOU! No, just kidding. I don't really think there's anything to warn about.

Synopsis: Some allies are active participants in the ongoing struggle. Others? Not so much.

Disclaimer: I take no responsibility for Jack O'Neill's major Furling letdown if he ever finds out. Wait? That's not what you mean by disclaimer? OH ALL RIGHT! Not mine, even though I wish they were. Not stealing, just borrowing. No money changing hands. No reason to sue me and leave me destitute and out on the street in the cruelly cold Vermont winter. Please do not send me any funny white naked guys in lieu of SG-1. I have enough children, and the ones I have would get creeped out by having a bunch of them peering into their faces and poking at the things they eat. Send them to Michael Shanks instead. He can entertain and amuse them for hours with his masterful plane impression.

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Well, I'm off now to catch 3 pitiful hours of sleep before I have to get up again. I hope you enjoyed this, and if you comment and I'm not prompt to respond, it's because I'm on the road or FINALLY catching up on my sleep. Not that I'm too put out. Given the choice of getting enough sleep or getting a chance to see my grown kids and my mom's family, I'll jettison the sleep anydaynight!

Soup Suffers From Too Few Cooks

There is going to be another SG-1 Alphabet Soup on February 18th, and there are still a few letters looking for authors, so if you think you could deliver a gen fic focusing on canon allies who have not already been the subject of a previous Alphabet Soup (nixing Bra'tac and Jonas Quinn for example, but allowing the Jaffa, the Langarans, Russians, and the good folks who hang their giant marble bullheads at the Land of Light). There is a 100 word minimum, so a little drabble'll do ya. Now having given away my age by misquoting a truly ancient Brylcreem commercial, I'll leave you with the place to go to sign up, which is here.

I'm doing "U" myself, and haven't a clue what I'll be turning in this far away from the deadline, or which allies I'll focus on, but I find that fear concentrates the mind wonderfully, and I have no doubt that an idea will be hop full born and Athena-like out of my head as the deadline approaches...

I hope.

Well, not much doubt.

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thothmes
thothmes

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A Few Words from the Wise

Speak to him, for there is none born wise.

-The Maxims of Ptahotep

~~~~~~~~~~


In mourning or rejoicing, be not far from me.

- an Ancient Egyptian Love Song

~~~~~~~~~~


But your embraces
alone give life to my heart
may Amun give me what I have found
for all eternity.


-Love Songs of the New Kingdom, Song #2

~~~~~~~~~~


To Know the Dark


To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,
and is travelled by dark feet and dark wings.


-Wendell Berry

~~~~~~~~~~


Up in the morning's no for me,
Up in the morning early;
When a' the hills are covered wi' snaw,
I'm sure it's winter fairly.

-Robert Burns

~~~~~~~~~~


Visit to the Hermit Ts'ui


Moss covered paths between scarlet peonies,
Pale jade mountains fill your rustic windows.
I envy you, drunk with flowers,
Butterflies swirling in your dreams.


-Ch'ien Ch'i

~~~~~~~~~~


Mistress of high achievement, O lady Truth,
do not let my understanding stumble
across some jagged falsehood.


-Pindar

~~~~~~~~~~


Every Gaudy colour
Is a bit of truth.


-Nathalia Crane

~~~~~~~~~~


I counted two-and-twenty stenches,
All well defined, and several stinks.


-Samuel Coleridge

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