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The Black Mare

Since I don't watch television, I discovered BtVS long after it was over when I rented the DVDs of the first season and was immediately hooked. I got the whole series for Christmas 2004. After several viewings of the entire thing, I have decided to ignore S6 and S7. They are offensive to me as a viewer, as a woman who lives with depression, as a writer, and as one who hates to see soundly developed characters shattered for no viable reason.

I am, first and always, a Giles fan. Brains, patience, esoteric knowledge, left-handed swordsmanship -- what's not to love? I enjoy reading all well-written BtVS fan fic, and have a little stash of B/G fondness tucked away for those times when I need a little fictional chocolate infusion.

I am writing a pre-Buffy Giles novella called The Bird Bone Flute, which is archived at Riposte [ripsostearchive.com, the Watchergirls archive] and also on its own site [courtesy of the Tweedy Book Guy listmum] at http://beam.to/bbf

My heart belongs to a big red horse named Fox, whose picture you will see now and then in my entries. Fox has to compete with Quinn, a Meyers parrot who is trying to convince me to join him in his nesting cavity where we will produce wonderful chicks together. Quinn is a bit unclear on the avian/mammal reproductive boundary, but his motives are pure and he is such a loving little rooster. I've never been anyone's special hen before I met him. Quinn tolerates my affection for Jesse, a peach-front conure who has the highest ego per gram ratio in the house. Jesse shares a tea soaked biscuit [Barron's Rich Tea type] with me every morning when we start our day. Zane and Alex are my two African Grays, both of them rescues, and very different personalities. It's been fun watching Zane, who is very shy and socially innocent, deal with Alex's bold advances and brazen exploration. One of these days I will have to have them sexed so I can know whether or not to set up a single big cage with nesting cavities and hope for the best. Finally, there is Psammead [a gentleman chinchilla named for the sand fairy in E. Nesbit's _Three Children and It_] and his beloved, Eleanor. These two, like Thistle and Fagin before him, taught me that there is such a thing as a quantum rodent, and that life should be taken in banking turns, at speed.