2017 in the rearview

It was a year of endings and beginnings.

In January, I got a passenger and schoolbus endorsement on my CDL and started a new job.

I left LiveJournal after 15 years.

AIM has disbanded. I wrote many novels with Naomi via AIM.

I phased out the Angelia Sparrow Facebook account, and blogger account.

I renamed tumblr and almost everything else. Today I even changed my Netflix profile on the TV from Angel to Nick.

I got my first male underwear and my first binder (didn't fit). I bought more male clothing. Why have I been buying women's sweaters all these years? I've been generally trying to be Nick as much as possible.

I had several epiphanies about myself.

We had two litters of kittens: Cirrus, Stratus and Nimbus, and Cloud, Vanya and Phantom. Nimbus lives in Oklahoma with Christopher.

Niko left us this summer.

Jon and I cleaned out the garage.

I saw 50 movies and read 26 books.

I had a gym membership and actually went regularly. I'm up to 12 minutes on the elliptical, when I started at 4 steps.

I had my first short story in years published in the Primal Fear anthology.

I started a Patreon and released my first novel in four years.

Edward and Charlie are slated for re-release.

All my other books are back in my possession and out of contract.

We took out a Home Equity loan to get some repairs done. So far our system works, but the ductwork is being redone. And we have two new toilets.

A Viking Ship for the SCA was decided upon, but hasn't yet happened.

I made a lot of soap, knitted a lot and crocheted a lot.

I turned 50.

I saw Phantom of the Opera live at the Orpheum.

Olivia went on homebound because the Reynaud's got her.

Jon came home from college in May and has hidden in his room since.

I went to the Zoo and the Botanic Gardens.

I lost a friend to cancer.



Carrie Fisher Dream-walked me twice: February 13 and December 19.
The first:
Mid South Con needed me to lodge some guests and save them hotel charges. (Not the first time they've had dream-me do this. Once they had dream-me pick up Peter Mayhew at the airport because I had a minivan.)

So I have a much bigger much cleaner house. But I still have some moving boxes. Dave Prowse is helping me go through them, despite my protest. he just likes digging in boxes.

A bit later, I'm pottering in the kitchen. My books are all in paperback on a shelf. Carrie Fisher (not dead in my dream) looks and says I've written more books than she has. I counter with they're not as good as hers. She says "Make the next one better."
I tell her I'm blocked, daunted by the prospect of the new marketplace and fucked by lack of coauthor.
She reached up, cuffed me on the back of the head. "Now I know you've read my stuff. Get your vaudeville ass in front of the computer and write more of your own."

The second, i woke up with "Space Mom wants you to use your CPAP" ringing in my ears.