batyatoon: (the world is quiet here)
The year in review, as seen through public posts in this journal. Leaving out last year's end-of-year memes. (Bolded phrases are subject lines; unbolded are first lines of the post, used where no subject line exists.)

January: "Hello, folks! So yeah, while I will not be leaving LJ behind completely, I am slowly starting to make my way over to DW."
February
March: "omnomentaschen"
April: "Tonight is the first night of Pesach. Zman cherutenu; the time of our liberation."
May: "traveling plans"
June: "home again, home again"
July: "home again / Home again, in more ways than one."
August: "There's been so much going on this past month that I keep wanting to post about..."
September: "Closing the year"
October: "My pants: so bankrupt."
November: "Signal boost: NYC-area apartment needed, short-term rental"
December: "mumblesomething years ago"
batyatoon: (and we don't know here)
There's been so much going on this past month that I keep wanting to post about -- my first housefilk in over a year, craziness at work, new recipes, seeing Into the Woods in Central Park with [personal profile] sdelmonte and [personal profile] ladymondegreen and [personal profile] skygiants and [personal profile] innerbrat and my dad -- but somehow I keep never doing it.

This one thing I kind of have to post about, though.

Today I stayed home from work, and went with my mother-in-law to see my dad off at the airport, where he got on the plane to Israel. Where he plans to live from now on, in the same neighborhood as my brother and his family.

I'm still a little weepy. I'm going to miss him terribly.

At least video chat is a thing.
batyatoon: (the world is quiet here)
The year in review, as seen through public posts in this journal. (Bolded phrases are subject lines; unbolded are first lines of the post, used where no subject line exists.)

January: "hitting the road again"
February: "I am smug like a smug thing and posting about it very belatedly."
March: "I'd Do NEFilk For You"
April: "Tomorrow night is the first night of Pesach. Zman cherutenu; the time of our liberation."
May: "[unfiltered] here's how it is."
June: "Tonight is Shavuot."
July: "write like a girl"
August: "That Icon Meme Again"
September: "closing, closing, closing the year"
October
November
December: "i'm still here. i'm not gone."
batyatoon: (each of us is one small light)
My mother passed away early yesterday morning.

The funeral will be held tomorrow at 1pm at the Schwartz Brothers funeral home. The shiva will be at the home of my father, Rabbi David Levin, in Kew Gardens Hills. If you wish to pay a condolence call, please contact [livejournal.com profile] sdelmonte for the address and directions.
batyatoon: (fallen)
Because a lot of people saw my last friendslocked post and didn't know what was going on. I realized I've been remiss in telling people about the state of my mother's health; it's been really hard to talk about.

Last spring my mother was diagnosed with uterine cancer. She's been in and out of the hospital (Sloan-Kettering) since then, with varying frequency; they had it under control for a good while, and then they didn't.

I cannot overstate how excellent Sloan-Kettering was through all of this. They took such good care of her, I can't even begin to tell you.

Yesterday they released her to home hospice care. And while it's good that she can be home now, the reason they released her is that at this point there isn't anything else they can do.

They've said weeks.



So this is why [livejournal.com profile] sdelmonte and I aren't at Balticon this weekend as we'd hoped to be. I'm sorry to miss all of you who will be there.

My brother and his family have come in from Israel, and my sister and her family from Rochester, and my mother's siblings, and family friends. And our whole community is organizing to help. And my mother is as comfortable as we can make her, and she's in good spirits, and ... that's pretty much all there is to say.

Again: those of you who are inclined towards prayer, please pray for her.
batyatoon: (each of us is one small light)
I heard Talis Kimberley sing this at DucKon this past summer. Today she posted a recording of it for Remembrance Day.

Go. Listen.

And somebody's wearing a poppy
That most symbolic of flowers
How the silence spreads when they’re bringing them home
At fourteen hundred hours
batyatoon: (each of us is one small light)
Because there are a lot of kids out there who need to hear this:
It Gets Better.
"...I wish I could have talked to this kid for five minutes. I wish I could have told Billy that it gets better. I wish I could have told him that, however bad things were, however isolated and alone he was, it gets better...."

And because there are some for whom it won't:
Spirit Day.
"...On October 20th, 2010, we will wear purple in honor of the 6 gay boys who committed suicide in recent weeks/months due to homophobic abuse in their homes and at their schools...."

Because bullying doesn't get taken seriously enough, and doesn't get stopped often enough. Because there are a lot of ways to be a designated victim, and this is one of the ways in which I wasn't. Because it's bad out there. Because I cried when I heard. Because, as a wise man once said, you may know somebody in a similar situation, or you may be in a similar situation, and if you're in a situation like that there's only one thing you can do.

we write it down 'cause it's something we have to do
and you can find your voice for the ones who come after you
and you can be the one to tell the kids: hang in there
there's a way to survive, you can believe me, i've been there
i'm not that strong, i can't fight this crime
i can't right this wrong, but i can write this rhyme
if i can write this song, well then it might just shine
and i swear to god i'm a get it right this time
batyatoon: (BSG: bright shiny futures)
My first ever Battlestar Galactica fic. Set about a week after 4x14, "Blood On The Scales"; inspired heavily by the "Face of the Enemy" webisodes.

Choaí )
batyatoon: (tabula rasa)
Just so everybody's aware:

My grandmother in New Orleans is seriously ill. (I will not say dying. Others have.)

My parents are already there; I'm flying down Saturday night and will be there through Monday morning. I may be around online some during that time, but don't expect to see me much.

Any prayers and good thoughts are appreciated.
batyatoon: (fallen)
There isn't any easier way to say this.

We lost the baby. Yesterday morning.



To forestall the likeliest questions:
* We're both about as close to okay as it's possible to be under the circumstances.
* This is not private. Please don't hesitate to tell anyone who you feel should know.
* Currently we are still planning to attend OVFF at the end of the month.

I'm not disabling comments but I may or may not be answering them.
batyatoon: (that starry sea)
(There is always a last time for everything.)

Overhead, without any fuss, the stars were going out.




Another of the Great Ones is gone.

Thank you for everything, Sir Arthur, and Godspeed.
batyatoon: (bee girl)
From [livejournal.com profile] smallship1:

If there is someone that you miss dearly, for any reason, post this exact sentence in your journal.



Yeah.

no. oh, no.

Sep. 7th, 2007 05:08 pm
batyatoon: (each of us is one small light)
Madeleine L'Engle dies at age 88.

Just last month I finally gave up on finding my long-missing copy of A Wrinkle In Time and bought a new one. And have since reread it, along with A Wind In The Door and A Swiftly Tilting Planet.

I found myself impatient with some of the dialogue that I found pleasingly profound as a child, and less willing to suspend disbelief on some plot points, and disagreeing vehemently with some thematic points ... and even with all of that, I was struck again and again by how overwhelmingly good these books are.

Rest in peace, lady. And thank you.
batyatoon: (fallen)
No. Oh, no.

John M. Ford has died.


I just. I never met him, but ... this is the man who wrote 110 Stories. This is the man whose poetry taught me how to write a sestina.


Dammit.
batyatoon: (fallen)
Where I was, 9/11/2001 and following.

What I still consider the definitive poem on the subject: John M. Ford's 110 Stories.
batyatoon: (Default)
My mother's mother passed away this morning. The funeral is this afternoon at about two.


I may be writing more about this later.
batyatoon: (Default)
I know a lot of you have heard this by now from Alex's LJ, but I felt I should probably say so anyway.

My husband's elderly cousin Jordan Cohn passed away Wednesday.

Everyone's been asking if we're okay, and it's hard to say clearly. I think the best way to sum it up is: things aren't okay, but we're okay. If you appreciate the distinction.

(Also: I'm trying to catch up with my flist since Wednesday, and there's a good chance I've missed something. Apologies in advance.)
batyatoon: (littleme)
I want to write about my grandfather tonight.

Tonight is his yahrtzeit, the first anniversary of his death according to the Jewish calendar. I couldn't write much at all about it at the time. I'm still not sure I can.

I want to write about my grandfather tonight.

New Orleans, the city he lived in for most of his life and for the entirety of mine, the city that is inextricably linked with him and Grandma Cecil in my mind, is flooded. Grandma and my other local relatives have gotten safely out of the city. Thousands haven't.

I want to write about my grandfather tonight. His name was Schneur Zolmon Levin. Most people called him Zolly. My father called him Papa. I called him Grandpa Zolly, and didn't learn until only a few years ago how much he would have preferred to be called Zeide.

I've been thinking about National Novel Writing Month coming up in a few, and saying things like maybe this time I'll actually finish one. He always used to ask what I'd written lately.

I want to write about my grandfather tonight, and I keep thinking in other people's words. All true wealth is biological is the phrase I keep coming back to.

He was a small Jewish man with a short scrubby white beard and sharp blue eyes and a sense of humor rivaled only by his sense of principle. He taught me handslap games and Hi-Q and nonsense rhymes, and he tried to teach me discipline and responsibility and respect, and I know I disappointed him more often than not, and my uncle Elliot told me at the funeral that I was always Grandpa's favorite.

I miss him so much.

I want to write about my grandfather tonight, and I will not put it off again.
batyatoon: (Default)
It's come to my attention that I really do need a This Sucks icon. But I don't have one. So for right now I want you all to imagine that I have one, and I'm using it.

Which is a really roundabout way of introducing the main theme of this post.

Which is that, as some of you already know, I've lost my job.

Back in the job market again, o joy. If any of y'all in the local area know of anyone looking for a competent secretary, drop me a line, okay?

I am also actively soliciting hugs and encouragement and the like. Because this sort of thing is hard on the ol' morale.

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