Mija’s Room

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correction corner

Correction Corner: In Which Mija Is Caught Loitering Near the Classic Editor

Posted on By Mija

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A Special Report:

It has come to the attention of the Headmistress, the Prefects, the Archive Committee, and several impatient girls in the back row that The Seduction of Anne Kelley, Part Three has not yet appeared. This despite Part Two having been posted — <looks at calendar, checks again, considers hiding calendar> — on February 6.

Shocking.

The delay does not appear to be the result of Miss Kelley having escaped. Nor is there evidence that Gwen has injured her wrist, mislaid her fountain pen, or fallen victim to a global shortage of green ink, though one can never be too careful with Old Girls and their silences.

The cause is, regrettably, of a more shameful and contemporary nature: WordPress has been Difficult.

More precisely, the Classic Editor, which has long indulged Mija’s habit of pasting in plain text and then fussing over the formatting afterwards like a girl trying to get her tie straight after morning prayers, has lately stopped behaving itself. The editor toolbar no longer seems properly able to manage the Google fonts used for the Inez letters and documents. Since those fonts are not decorative extras but part of how the archive speaks, this is not a small inconvenience. A letter from Anne Kelley ought not look like a memo from a dental office. Gwen de Vries should not be made to write in whatever typographic cardigan WordPress has left lying about.

Mija has, by her own report, investigated. She has poked settings. She has read advice. She has tried things. She has looked sternly at the screen. She may even have muttered. None of this has restored the former order.

The obvious solution is for Mija to report promptly to Editor Gutenberg and learn to behave properly with Blocks.

Naturally, she appears to have responded to this obvious solution with maturity, grace, and a spirited refusal to do anything of the kind.

When questioned, Mija was heard to describe this as “my own Mental Block, if you will, and therefore surely not entirely my fault.” After further reflection, she amended this statement to suggest that it may not be her fault at all, but rather the product of “some wider technical social ill,” or possibly “WordPress trying to be Squarespace,” after which she sighed in a pointed and unbecoming manner.

In fairness to WordPress, Gutenberg blocks were introduced in 2018, so Mija can hardly claim a want of warning. She has had, by any reasonable standard, ample time to prepare herself. Possibly even enough time to become serene, competent, and modern. Instead, she has spent the intervening years loitering near the Classic Editor, clutching her forged excuse note and insisting that surely this will still work if everyone is polite about it.

This is because, according to Mija, she does not wish to change the way she does things, thank you very much. She had a system. It was not elegant, perhaps, but it was hers. She pasted the text. She formatted the letters. She adjusted the fonts. She pretended this was a writing process rather than a private contest of wills with a website. And now Editor Gutenberg, in their crisp blouse and sensible shoes, appears to be saying, “Perhaps you should use the tool we have been trying to make you use for years.”

Mija has described this as “frankly, rude.”

However, after some grumbling, sulking, and the digital equivalent of dragging her regulation shoes along the corridor, Mija has admitted that Blocks may actually be the better method for the Inez archive going forward. Instead of formatting each letter after the fact, she can create styled containers for the different kinds of documents: Anne’s letters, Gwen’s letters, diary pages, memoranda, reports, and all the other surviving scraps Saint Clare’s really ought to have burned when it had the chance.

In practical terms, this means Part Three is delayed because the desk is being rebuilt before the papers are placed on it. Anne and Gwen are being given proper stationery. The archive is being sorted. Mija is being made to learn a new system, though not without complaint, resistance, or a certain amount of theatrical sighing.

Classic Editor, meanwhile, looks more threadbare and careworn with each passing day. Having been retired for nearly eight years, they really ought by now to have been allowed a shawl, a cup of tea, and a quiet chair by the fire, rather than being dragged back into service each time Mija refuses to report to her assigned editor.

Rumour has it that Editor Gutenberg has been seen in the corridor, tapping their foot in a show of marked (im)patience.

At the time of this notice, The Seduction of Anne Kelley, Part Three remains forthcoming. Mija has been instructed to stop loitering near the Classic Editor, present herself to Editor Gutenberg, and learn to use Blocks in a manner befitting a girl of her age, experience, and repeated warnings.

More importantly, if anyone knows a good Spanko Defence Attorney, please send them ’round immediately. Like yesterday. The evidence against me appears extensive, the witnesses are numerous and multiplying, and I am beginning to suspect that “But I liked the Classic Editor” may not constitute a complete defence.

k, thanks, bye.

 

The 8-Month Year – 2026

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Hiya!

Mysteriously, my calendar, doubtlessly inspired by1Or perhaps acting against. the productivity sphere’s innovation, The 12-Week Year, has developed its own variant: The 8-Month Year.

How does the 8-Month Year work, I hear you ask?

The system is simple. January, with its simultaneous regrets and resolute promises of reform, is permitted to start said year. February makes a brave, if brief, showing. Then, without warning and with no ransom note, March, April, May, and June vanish as though they never existed. July briskly follows, giving no notice to the missing months and expecting everyone to, likewise, avert their eyes and carry on.

In fairness to the calendar and its missing months, like every year this decade, 2026 hasn’t been an entirely uneventful year. At the end of January, an aging surfer-surgeon disassembled and rebuilt my left ankle, then gave me the happy news that I was down two tendons and needed a great deal of bed rest with said ankle higher than my heart for at least 5 weeks, followed by months of physical therapy. He also introduced me to the wonders of Aleve, which I’ve since adopted as Gen X’s Vitamin A.

(more…)

  • 1
    Or perhaps acting against.

November Update OR Michaelmas 2025 Evaluation

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Filed belatedly in the Saint Clare Archive Room, Lower East Wing (Door sticks; mind your fingers.)

Archivist’s Note №0: On Optimism

This November began with a plan that, in hindsight, displayed an admirable optimism and a truly reckless ignorance of scale: I intended to move the entirety of my Saint Clare writing into Scrivener, that elegant, beguiling piece of software whose beauty has lured me back again and again like a siren calling from a very aesthetically pleasing rock.

I convinced myself it would take …oh, a weekend? A long afternoon? Perhaps two pots of tea?

It did not.

What followed was a full-scale archaeological expedition through twenty-five years of stories, fragments, experiments, timelines, drafts, doodles, false starts, and worldbuilding ephemera, all scattered across my digital landscape in a manner best described as “enthusiastically feral.”

Thankfully, I was not alone.1Which, had I been, frankly I would have curled into a weeping ball before abandoning the plan. A number of very patient members of a certain spanking fiction Discord server offered structural wisdom, folder hierarchies, and moral support. And ChatGPT (who, whatever one thinks of AI overall, deserves hazard pay) burned the midnight oil with me as we attempted to devise a file system capable of housing a school that has been expanding and building back on itself since 1999.

The Archivist observes that this endeavour, though wildly underestimated at the outset, has proven both necessary and heroic, and will likely be cited in future staff meetings as an example of “proper archival zeal,” though she refuses to say by whom.

Only once this digital excavation was complete  (or at least, complete enough) could November’s real work begin.

Only then did #AdAstraWriMo dare to commence.

Saint Clare November: 42,924 / 50,000 words

Across November, I wrote and revised just under 43,000 new words, and the unified Saint Clare Scrivener project crossed the 100,000-word threshold with another ~200,000 words still waiting to be added.

Now that December has settled in and put its cold nose against the windowpanes, it is finally possible to look back at November with the proper mixture of satisfaction, disbelief, and a strong desire to reorganize the stationery cupboard. What began on October 31st as the ceremonial reopening of the Saint Clare gates for #AdAstraWriMo became, by month’s end, a surprisingly architectural endeavour: walls rebuilt, floors relaid, entire wings reconnected.

Archivist’s Note №1: On Word Count Inflation

Surpassing 100,000 words  has not reduced paperwork. If anything, several documents appear to be… multiplying. Inez’s diary is now claiming territorial rights over two shelves and a hatbox.

Much of the work was archaeological: retrieving scenes that had fallen behind digital radiators, consolidating timelines, and coaxing the Honour and Ned materials into something resembling linear time. Though no instalments of their series were posted publicly this month, the amount of research and drafting devoted to them was considerable. It’s the kind of subterranean work that rarely shows above ground until suddenly, in December or January, something significant blooms.

Archivist’s Note №2: The Honour and Ned Wing

Formerly classified under “Active Chaos,” this collection has been promoted to “Promising Disorder.” The Archivist requests patience. And possibly biscuits.

Alongside the fiction, November included a rigorous supplement of what Saint Clare’s catalog calls “Contextual Studies” but the Archivist insists on calling “External Distractions.” These were, in truth, vital:

  • A full watch-through of Downton Abbey (for the first time!), which proved unexpectedly useful for calibrating tone, class choreography, interwar emotional vocabulary, and the particular art of descending staircases with news both grave and thrilling.

Archivist’s Note №3: On the Downton Effect

Several staff, including Matron, appear to have adopted a “Carson stance.” This is being monitored.

Books

And then: the books. A great many books. A November so saturated with debutantes, spies, secret codes, and family secrets that the Archivist considered issuing ration cards.

Fiction Reads  in November

  • Balogh, Mary – The Ungrateful Governess – A Regency tale illustrating how governesses, when sufficiently provoked, can upend entire households with nothing but moral fortitude and a well-placed silence.
    The Archivist notes its relevance to understanding staff power dynamics, which remain as treacherous in 1955 as they were in 1815. Particularly instructive for crafting Saint Clare teacher backstories, and for imagining precisely how a seemingly meek woman might ruin a man’s day using only propriety.
  • Georgie Blalock – The Last Debutantes  – A chronicle of the final season before the lights go out.
    Archivist’s warning: Handle with care; nostalgia is flammable. This bit of historical fiction offers the precise atmosphere needed for Honour’s cohort… all glitter on the surface while the floorboards creak ominously underneath.
  • Rhys Bowen – In Farleigh Field – Aristocrats, sabotage, secrets in the hedgerows. Fantastic fun! The Archivist approves.
    Offers a model for depicting how “important national events” collide with rural tranquility. Saint Clare is no stranger to such events.
  • Hannah Byron – The London Spymaker – A brisk tutorial on clandestine operations, especially those conducted by women who cannot be trusted to stay in the drawing room.
    Highly relevant for any MI6-adjacent business the de Vries family has been concealing behind those polished vowels.
  • Julian Fellowes – Belgravia – Fellowes delivers his usual parcel of secrets, velvet drapery, and the soft rustle of hidden motives. The Archivist recommends this as a structural guide for crafting intergenerational mischief, something Saint Clare has in abundance.
  • Brianne Moore – A Bright Young Thing – A scintillating primer on the hazards of Being Presented to Society.
    Archivist’s assessment: Most useful for charting the emotional topography of Honour’s world — champagne bubbles floating over deep chasms of expectation. Readers are warned not to inhale too closely; class pressure can be intoxicating.
  • Kate Morton – The Forgotten Garden – A multi-generational tangle of secrets, lost documents, and mysterious relatives. Highly recommended for offering understanding of ways archives acquire the stories no one meant to leave behind.
    The Archivist has made several exasperated noises while reading it (mostly envy). 
  • Kate Quinn – The Rose Code  – A lively account of codebreaking, secrets, and women who refuse to sit quietly on the sidelines of history. The Archivist expects this history to prove highly instructive for the Honour-and-Ned materials, for reasons that will become evident as certain files are declassified. She also observes that several Saint Clare alumnae would have made formidable cryptographers, especially if told they were not permitted to. As for the question of whether any member of the current staff once served in similar capacities, the Archivist declines to comment.2She merely straightens a folder marked “K.” and moves on.
  • Isabella Valeri – Letters from the Dead – A most unsettling (and therefore highly useful) novel in which the past haunts the present. Novel has the air of a dream and is, happily, the first of a series of novels.  The Archivist notes that its treatment of memory, guilt, and the inconvenient persistence of the written word is directly applicable to Saint Clare’s archives, where several documents have similarly refused to stay quiet. Particularly instructive for crafting the emotional undercurrents of the Honour & Ned years, given the way old correspondences can haunt, clarify, or incriminate, and for reminding the writer that words, once written have a habit of outliving their authors’ intentions. Further, at over 480 pages, my hardbound copy could serve as a useful kudgel 3The Archivist declines to confirm whether any Saint Clare files have behaved likewise.

  • Jacqueline Winspear – Maisie Dobbs – The entry text for a wonderful detective series. The Archivist notes that this text is ideal for understanding individuals who have known both war and peace and find neither entirely restful. Particularly relevant to Ned, who absolutely carries more history in his pockets than is good for him.

Non-Fiction read in November

  • Anne de Courcy – 1939: The Last Season – A beautifully detailed record of Britain on the brink.
    Vital for staging Honour’s final prewar months — the dresses, the dances, the approaching sense of doom that everyone pretends not to notice. The Archivist notes: Nothing ruins a ball like impending global conflict.
  • Anne de Courcy – Debs at War – A striking chronicle of debutantes becoming drivers, codebreakers, and women who stepped into critical wartime roles without hesitation. Essential for envisioning Honour and her cohort as they navigate the moment when society’s expectations transformed overnight and the “girls” transformed with them. The Archivist would like it recorded, for the benefit of any future Head Boys reading over our shoulders, that these accomplishments were achieved without the benefit of an Eton education. A useful reminder, she feels, that competence has never been the exclusive property of any one male in a striped tie.
  • David Kynaston – Austerity Britain – A monumental social history of the immediate postwar years, chronicling everything from bombsites and ration books to political reinvention and the small domestic triumphs of making-do. For Saint Clare, this volume is indispensable. Its insight into postwar everyday life informs the emotional and material world that shapes staff, parents, and students in 1955. A must for any writer attempting to chart how the war’s aftermath shadows even the most polished corridors. The Archivist particularly recommends it for reconstructing:

    – the lingering shortages still felt in 1955
    – the clash between old expectations and new realities
    – and the quiet determination of households (and schools) to rebuild dignity from frayed cloth and ingenuity.

  • Angela Lambert – 1939: The Last Season of Peace – A clear, steady look at Britain in the final months before WW2. The  months shaped by parties, picnics, and social rituals carried out with the uneasy knowledge that their time was passing and might not come again. It captures the peculiar mental climate of the upper classes at the time — that blend of we must pretend nothing is wrong and we know everything is changing,  a psychological weather pattern my characters necessarily inhabit. The Archivist finds this volume especially useful for reconstructing Honour’s last prewar summer: its rhythms, its unspoken fears, the subtle tension between carrying on and looking over one’s shoulder. Also invaluable for pinpointing the instant when “the world as we know it” gives way to “the world as it must become,” a hinge moment the Honour & Ned narrative will soon need to pass through.
  • Mary S. Lovell – The Sisters – My second of two Mitford texts, this one with even more detail, gossip, and political catastrophe. The Archivist recommends it for constructing complicated sibling dynamics, a skill that applies equally to aristocratic families and Saint Clare dormitories.
  • Virginia Nicholson – Singled Out – A powerful, humane account of the “surplus women” of post–World War I Britain, the millions for whom widowhood, loss, and demographic imbalance reshaped every expectation of adulthood. The Archivist regards this as required reading for the school’s staff files: many a Saint Clare mistress carries exactly the sort of private history this book illuminates, especially those who returned from war service with quieter wounds and unexpected independence. Offers invaluable grounding for understanding Miss Kelley, for the Honour-era future of many classmates, and for understanding the reshaped social terrain into which many of the 1955 staff were born.
  • Jane Ridley – George V – A surprisingly vivid royal biography offering insight into duty, decorum, and the national habit of saying everything except what one means. Useful for writing Saint Clare’s older staff, many of whom came of age under such regimes. Found unexpectedly moving.
  • Adrian Tinniswood – The Long Weekend – A sweeping, room-to-room tour of interwar country-house life, complete with collapsing fortunes, stubborn rituals, architectural woes, and the steady hum of modernity pressing at every mullioned window. The Archivist suggests this as essential scaffolding for understanding the houses, habits, and hierarchies that shaped Honour’s and Ned’s youth – from the dining-room choreography to the desperate attempts to maintain grandeur while the roof quietly leaks. Provides a generous supply of atmospheric detail for Saint Clare’s wealthier families, many of whom still pretend their long weekends never truly ended (despite the evidence).4Added a lot to watching Downton Abbey too.
  • Laura Thompson – The Six – A vivid, unsettling, and downright operatic study of the Mitford sisters — six women who managed, between them, to span the entire political spectrum, rewrite the rules of notoriety, and turn family life into something between a salon and a battlefield. The Archivist recommends this volume for anyone attempting to understand how brilliance, charm, loyalty, defiance, privilege, recklessness, and ideological wildfire can coexist inside a single family.5Or school, as the case may be. Particularly informative for shaping the world around Lady de Vries and any Saint Clare alumnae inclined toward dramatic convictions, fashionable extremism, inconvenient romances, or the lifelong habit of causing a stir wherever sent.

Archivist’s Note №4: Debutantes + Espionage

A naturally complementary pairing: social sparkle meets strategic secrecy. The Archivist observes that when these volumes are placed beside one another, they demonstrate an unexpected kinship. Certain alumnae were very much the same.

Archive Record: Posts Filed in November 2025

Presented in chronological order, as all reputable archivists (and some prefects) insist.

Archivist’s Note №5: Classic Editor Incident

Logged under “Sentimental Technology,” though in truth the situation was far more operatic. In the course of migrating materials into Scrivener, the Archivist was obliged to process:

  • BBEdit fragments,
  •  Word documents in every conceivable state of formatting distress,
  •  Apple Notes entries written at baffling hours on MacBook, desktop, iPhone, and, in one memorable case, watch
  • Evernote refugees,
  • PDFs of uncertain provenance,
  • Several A5 notebooks
  • And several hundred small, handwritten scraps whose survival defied both logic and humidity.

Final tally: 400+ text files, 1,000+ images, and a Classic Editor duplicate that arrived like a ghost insisting it still had business in this world. No reprimands issued. The Archivist merely notes, with a certain weary dignity, that she still prefers ink.

Archivist’s Note №6: Concerning Workplace Conditions

Following the successful migration of BBEdit fragments, Word orphans, Apple Notes midnight ramblings, Evernote exiles, mismatched PDFs, and over a thousand images (not to mention the small scraps of paper written in handwriting that can only be described as “hopeful”) the Archivist has filed a formal request for workplace compensation.

Grounds cited include:

  • emotional fatigue,
  • optical strain,
  • several near-miss papercuts,
  • and the spiritual injury caused by encountering filenames such as “final_FINAL_reallythisoneipromise_2c.docx.”

Claim pending. The Archivist awaits judgment with the dignity of a woman who has wrestled a hydra and reshelved its heads.

Closing the Ledger

November was a month of discipline, excavation, research, and tea consumption of heroic proportions.

Archivist’s Note №7: On Tea, Coffee, and Other Necessary Fuels

November’s consumption records have been subjected to the usual scrutiny.

Tea usage reached a level not witnessed since the Great Staff Conference Dispute of 1947, while coffee intake rose in direct proportion to the number of files refusing to behave themselves.

The Archivist wishes it known that her professional functioning depends on a carefully balanced regimen:

– tea for patience,
– coffee for courage,
– biscuits for morale,
– and the occasional square of emergency chocolate for existential crises provoked by unsorted metadata.

Administration, after reviewing these findings, has approved additional supplies of all categories.
(The kettle and the percolator have requested alternating shifts.) Despite the elevated beverage consumption, the Old Girls’ return, and the increased foot traffic in the Archive Room, the inkpots remained mostly cooperative.

The groundwork laid in November (particularly within the Honour & Ned Wing) should begin to bear visible fruit in December, provided no further documents attempt escape or rewrite themselves when the Archivist isn’t looking.

The Archivist has now placed two paperweights on the most volatile files, just in case.

Archivist’s Note №8: December’s Arrival

Never trust a month that hums to itself.

Archivist’s Note №9: Final Annotation

No documents were harmed in this update. Except that timetable. Which was shredded and, I would argue, was overheard snickering on more than one occasion and so absolutely deserved it.

And with that, the November ledger closes. December is already loitering in the corridor,  hands behind its back, pretending innocence.

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    Which, had I been, frankly I would have curled into a weeping ball before abandoning the plan.
  • 2
    She merely straightens a folder marked “K.” and moves on.
  • 3
    The Archivist declines to confirm whether any Saint Clare files have behaved likewise.
  • 4
    Added a lot to watching Downton Abbey too.
  • 5
    Or school, as the case may be.
correction corner A drawing of a stool placed neatly in the corner of a book-lined room.

Correction Corner 1

Posted on By Mija

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Hello Faithful Reader:

In keeping with and stealing I mean borrowing from the lexicon of Sips and Smacks (always a joy, current episode is with one of the Oasis Party organizers, do listen) I’ve cleared out the pile of laundry and popsicle sticks so Mija’s Room now has its own “Correction Corner” that I intend to keep empty. Here I intend to (weekly? monthly? who knows?) post edits made to posts or pages after they’ve gone public on the site.

Why do I need this?

Because the lovely reader (and author) Becca T. Riding of the Sore Is More blog is a super close reader. JAB, faithful reader and co-author isn’t far behind in the editor sweepstakes. Both of these readers are good at something I’m not: noticing detail. I appreciate such things and want to give them the credit and rewards they deserve.

Also, in a scene context, Mija loves1By “loves” I mean it hits EXACTLY on my kink buttons. More on that and my attraction to and love of pedants someday. being corrected.2My real-life self can get super defensive, arguing and sometimes becoming downright snappish. I’ve been working on this for years and am getting better, but it does sound like my academic self could use a bit of correction corner herself. One of the first stories Pablo wrote for is “Spelling,” which he based on “correcting” me for words I had misspelled in my early emails to him. Likewise, the story “Its” has Mija writing a line I still have running through my head “The possessive pronoun ‘its’ has no apostrophe.”

Also, as I’ve discovered working on fixing my stories on The Treehouse, (yes, it’s getting done, slowly) having a change log is a useful thing.

Why do you need this?

Because if you alert me to a needed correction (that is a mistake I’ve made), you can ask for a boon. What that boon might be is for you to decide, within reason.

Because some of you (ahem) have made mistakes in the comments and are annoyed by them (just so you know, they do not bother me a bit). You can ask me to make a correction to your text for you. The price? You “pay” with a boon for the blog. These can be insights, ideas, your own stories/fantasies about the characters.

Okay, so what have I done?

Links Page:

Added to Norse Cavalier‘s blog description to reflect my current favorite: an F/F story “The Business Woman and the Waitress.”

Story Changes:

“The MP Visits Saint Clare – Prologue – 11 July 1955“-

I changed the name of the Institute’s Head from Mrs Fielding to Mrs Perris. [Mrs Fielding is the Charrington’s housekeeper]

“Honor’s Game (Prologue through 3)” – Added the following text from the archivist:

From the Lady de Vries Collection, Blue Room Archives, Saint Clare’s School for Girls:
The papers presented here form part of what is now known as the Lady de Vries Collection. Though the correspondence was originally preserved among the private files of her husband, Edmund Alexander de Vries, 9th Earl of Darlington, its preservation and eventual deposit at Saint Clare’s are due to Lady Gwendolyn Randolph de Vries herself.

The exchange of initials — D. and H. — occurs throughout. Their precise origins are unclear; however, internal evidence suggests that these letters were both a private correspondence between husband and wife and, increasingly, a record of informal “exercises” undertaken by Lady de Vries during the late 1930s.

The editors have retained the original orthography and punctuation. A few later pencil notes in Lord Darlington’s hand are reproduced in grey type. Where the line between affection and assignment blurs, readers are invited to remember that the world beyond these pages was also shifting — toward war, secrecy, and a very different kind of education.

Let’s see how this goes!

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    By “loves” I mean it hits EXACTLY on my kink buttons. More on that and my attraction to and love of pedants someday.
  • 2
    My real-life self can get super defensive, arguing and sometimes becoming downright snappish. I’ve been working on this for years and am getting better, but it does sound like my academic self could use a bit of correction corner herself.
amigas Card reading September Summarized in orange script

September Summarized (2025)

Posted on By Mija

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In Southern California September is a peculiar season. That felt especially true this year after a summer spent in the British Isles. September’s the month when the calendar insists autumn has arrived, Pumpkin Spiced Everything starts to appear, the days grow noticeably shorter — and yet here the thermometer climbs higher than in July.1Good grief. Clearly I’m in my 50s — I’m writing about the weather. It’s not the heat that bothers me though — mostly I dislike watching the daylight dwindle; from here to (almost) January I’m counting down to the Winter Solstice, and looking forward to when the days begin to stretch again.

The luggage is still missing, but at least I’ve replaced some of the books.

Still, I’ve always loved the back-to-school feeling — even as a teacher. There’s something magical about new notebooks, fresh pens, and a stack of books waiting to be opened. This September brought plenty of that “new term” spirit, research and writing. Here’s September’s report:

Oasis
The Las Vegas party. Not a bad way to open the month. Thanks to Sutti’s accompanying me to the party, I was able to spend time in the suites — something I hadn’t managed in years. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the first scene party in a very long while where I didn’t suffer a panic attack. That in itself is a small triumph. I have two more posts begun about the experience, but (in true school girl2At least me as a school girl… fashion) I can’t promise when I’ll be able to get back to them.

Sips and Smacks logoSips and Smacks
A thrilling highlight of the month was being a guest on Sips and Smacks Episode 125. Rex and Adalia, the hosts, are engaging and fun. This made talking with them more like a brunch chatting poolside than an interview. We spoke about the way the scene has changed, what’s very much the same, differences between Paul’s and my uniform kinks — how his lean toward discipline and precise presentation, while mine are bound up with the belonging and community that uniform uniformity represents. They were sweet and let me enthuse about Inez of the Upper IV, and we looked back at the history of The Treehouse and its links to the Usenet days of alt.sex.spanking and soc.sexuality.spanking.

[Long-time readers will recall I first wrote about Sips and Smacks in December 2024 It feels like a full circle: from discovering the podcast to sitting down with the hosts as friends.]

Inez of the Upper IV
The Saint Clare’s/Inez stories continue to occupy much of my brain space — and I’m delighted they do. Readers have joined in: writing their own pieces, sending suggestions, even sharing memories of their schooldays. When I first began offering these “documents” as building blocks for stories, I wasn’t sure anyone would care to take part. Every comment since I began posting them has mattered enormously.

I’m currently trying to decide whether Scrivener3This is my third attempt to find the right use case for the software. It’s so visually elegant. Fingers crossed. might help me manage the sprawl (the red strings, pins, and sealing wax proving inadequate), I discovered I’ve already written more than 100,000 words of notes, timelines, and background. More flows out every time I open the “Mija” profile on my MacBook. This is, without a doubt, the most sustained burst of creativity I’ve had since my early days on alt.sex.spanking and soc.sexuality.spanking. I couldn’t be more delighted to find I am still Mija, with or without Pablo, something I’d doubted was possible when this blog began.

Recently, Inez’s story has stepped back into the 1930s to sketch the story of Inez’s parents,  Honour and Ned, prompted at least in part by Brigitte’s observation that Saint Clare has some of the same atmosphere as the boarding school in Rosamund Pilcher’s novel Coming Home.

The Treehouse Returns
Even with getting to hand out with Rex and Adalia, my biggest September news is <cue trumpets>:  after being abruptly shuttered five years ago, Pablo and Mija’s Treehouse will be back online in the next couple of months. Here in my room I’ve even made a little news page here.  But, of course, after being away so long we’re renovating. The original site was hand coded by Paul in 1999 — twenty-five years later Treehouse 2.0 will have a more sophisticated back end (like me). Paul and I are currently both uploading the individual stories and other texts.  This process reminds me just how much we lived there – not just us, but some of our oldest friends. It is more than a website; it is our time capsule of 1990s-2000s Usenet, when spankos (or whatever we call ourselves) first began finding one another online. My hope is that it still carries the spirit of alt.sex.spanking and soc.sexuality.spanking — a lively space where stories and friendships grew. That space meant the world to me in its day — something I’ve discussed in posts throughout this blog — I’m so glad our little piece will soon be back.

Closing Notes
So ends September’s chronicle: one part personal challenge, one part conversation, one part creative ferment, and one part community rediscovered. If you’d like to listen in, I’ll report back soon with more on Inez, and — like everyone else in the common room — I’m waiting eagerly for the day The Treehouse reopens its doors.I’ll report back soon with more on Inez, and — like everyone else in the common room — I’m eagerly anticipating the day Pablo and Mija’s Treehouse drops its rope ladder and welcomes everyone back in.

  • 1
    Good grief. Clearly I’m in my 50s — I’m writing about the weather.
  • 2
    At least me as a school girl…
  • 3
    This is my third attempt to find the right use case for the software. It’s so visually elegant. Fingers crossed.
amigas A watercolor sketch of a huge stack of luggage and a small black dog,

Mija and Her Brave Furry Companion in the British Isles OR Five Suitcases, One Dog, and the Case for Simplicity

Posted on By Mija

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Preview — To be read in BBC Radio 4 style

A summer adventure across the British Isles with Mija and her faithful furry Sutti girl: castles and cottages, uniforms and ferries, triumphs, tribulations, and luggage of mythic proportions. Part travelogue, part comedy of errors, and wholly a tale of old friends, new discoveries, and the surprising case for simplicity.

Chapter 1 — Long Beach: Paperwork, Panic, and Packing

In which bureaucracy meets AuDHD and luggage multiplies like Gremlins.

The days before July 4th were chaos. The house had to be left in order: weeds pulled, rocks shifted, spiders relocated from their Olympic training ground. Errands multiplied — medications, safe deposit box, vaccinations (for Sutti, not me). I was just about keeping up when United rang with the kind of breezy cheer reserved for delivering ruin: “You’re missing a Heathrow Certificate for your service dog. No papers, no entry. Cargo is an option?”

“No, cargo is not an option.”

My voice probably cracked. I’d been so careful about everything to do with Sutti, working on it months in advance, working off a series of lists, paid a veteranery service to make sure her certifications were correct.1Turns out those were for her health. Heathrow needed to document *mine.* This had not been mentioned prior. Sigh.] 

Numbly I stood and listened to the nice woman from United outline what documents needed to be obtained and emailed and what would be required to get them. That they usually took a month or so to process, but I could try and get them done faster if I followed her instructions. These included calling Heathrow. “I can’t” I whispered.

She didn’t hear me.

“Email them to me when you have them. Then call so I know they’re there.” 

I sat staring at the clock. It was late on July 3rd — the Friday before the biggest holiday weekend in the U.S.2Businesses that had opened all had mostly closed by 12PM. — and suddenly I understood the particular horror of being told doing something isn’t impossible, but almost is. Traveling with my dog in the cabin into the UK in 18 hours wasn’t closed off entirely — it could be done, there is a process, but only with Herculean effort, panic, and possibly a pact with Satan. That was, in too many way, worse than an outright “no.” 

Because I was already exhausted and anxious to the point of burnout. I spent most of the previous year feeling stressed and stretched beyond breaking. By the time the semester ended being told I had to resubmit a single form caused tears and a sense of overwhelming despair.

 

I am not cargo.

Soo, not at my best. But this is Sutti. I couldn’t go without her — she needed to be on the plane. And not as cargo.

So began twelve frantic hours of bureaucratic hopscotch: PDFs, rabies certificates, microchip scans, vet letters, panic disorder paperwork, and, I swear, fragments of the Magna Carta. And so many phone calls.3Real calls. Like where I dialed and talked to people. People I didn’t know and weren’t expecting my call. Who were really helpful. At one point I tracked down Sutti’s trainer on his 25th anniversary trip to Paris.4Okay, but I didn’t know that’s where he was. Or why. By dawn, miracle of miracles, Heathrow approved her. When the LHR certificate finally landed in my inbox, ready to forward triumphantly to United, the sense of accomplishment I felt was on par with getting my doctorate. My vet’s office later told me no one they knew had ever flown a dog into the UK in the cabin of a commercial airliner. I credit academic-deadline stamina, indignation, and loyalty to a small dog who is Not Cargo.5I was also extremely fortunate that my employer had had me document Sutti’s training, skill, and my need for it so I already had letters from my doctors testifying to my PTSD, anxiety, and panic disorder. So I guess I should thank my university’s HR office. Someday. The Heathrow Animal Reception Centre, brisk, friendly, helpful, and sensible (July 4th being just another day to them), were also exacting. I had to call after I’d mailed each batch of documents to find out what they needed next. Finally they determined that my paperwork was valid, Sutti s a service dog, but since her school isn’t on the official ADI list, I could either prove her training in 47 different ways, none possible from outside the UK, or pay £447 so she could enter with me.

I gave them my credit card number. It was 5AM and I still needed to pack. Yeah, my packing never stood a chance. Executive function is, for me, a single-use tool, and mine was entirely eaten by the paperwork marathon while it was going on. Once that fire was out, nothing was left for choosing clothes. So I defaulted to the only possible strategy: bring everything.6It was pointed out to me, that there was another choice. Bring nothing and buy the things I needed. Sensible in retrospect and would have proved far cheaper in the end, but I’m not lying when I say it never crossed my mind. Surprised? In the end I had two giant 60-pound7To be fair to myself one contained a 20 pound bag of Sutti’s Very Special Food (sold in the UK it turns out) and all her toys and stuff. suitcases, a carry-on roller, and a backpack. The Luggage Hydra Gremlin was born. And unfortunately had been fed after dark.

More after the jump

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  • 1
    Turns out those were for her health. Heathrow needed to document *mine.* This had not been mentioned prior. Sigh.]
  • 2
    Businesses that had opened all had mostly closed by 12PM.
  • 3
    Real calls. Like where I dialed and talked to people. People I didn’t know and weren’t expecting my call. Who were really helpful.
  • 4
    Okay, but I didn’t know that’s where he was. Or why.
  • 5
    I was also extremely fortunate that my employer had had me document Sutti’s training, skill, and my need for it so I already had letters from my doctors testifying to my PTSD, anxiety, and panic disorder. So I guess I should thank my university’s HR office. Someday.
  • 6
    It was pointed out to me, that there was another choice. Bring nothing and buy the things I needed. Sensible in retrospect and would have proved far cheaper in the end, but I’m not lying when I say it never crossed my mind. Surprised?
  • 7
    To be fair to myself one contained a 20 pound bag of Sutti’s Very Special Food (sold in the UK it turns out) and all her toys and stuff.

(Belated) Round-up – June 2025

Posted on By Mija

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June 2025 has been [okay, was] a surprisingly full month. It’s usually pretty sleepy. For the past four years, Paul and I have spent a least part of it in Mendocino — a wild and beautiful part of Northern California — decompressing from the academic year and getting ready for the summer. This year, of course, is different. With the exception of a weekend in Dallas for TASSP, I spent June living on my own getting ready for spending July-August in the UK.

Like everything else this year, these preparations weren’t as simple as I’d thought they’d be (and I expected them to be hard), partly because this is really the first time I’ve lived alone outside of being in university residence halls. Partly too because of the wildly complex process of getting Sutti certified (health and recognized as a service dog) to come into the UK and fly in the cabin rather than cargo. Most of all though, it was difficult because the situation in Los Angeles, brought about by the federal government’s sending secret police into the city1Even now, writing this, I can hardly believe what’s happening. , was and is, horrible. Living amidst neighbors who are too scared to go to work or even leave their homes so their kids can go to the park is hard to imagine until it happens. Sitting in this lovely cafe in Mumbles, Wales, I’m afraid of what I may be coming back to.

On the positive side, in addition to spending time with Paul, I’m looking forward to the chance to experience Wales, a part of the UK where I’ve never been, and the Republic of Ireland later this month, another place I’ve never been there either. I’ve gotten back in touch with three “old” (as in long-standing, they’re all younger than me) friends, none of whom I’ve seen in more than a decade. Knowing I’m going to see (well, I’ve already seen two) before I go back to California feels good.

Kink:

  • Found a Saint Clare story, “Red Darn,” written many moons ago for a soc.sexuality.spanking short story contest. It’s “new” in that it was never archived on the web via The Treehouse.
  • Flew to Dallas, Texas and went to my first Texas All-State Spanking Party (TASSP). This was the best, most well-organized spanking party I’ve ever been to. Party report to come. Someday.

  • Got an adorable vintage uniform and was/am shocked to find it fits.2This prompted me to weigh myself. Without trying I’ve lost more than thirty pounds since September 2024. Explains why everything fits wrong — I’ve been wearing size 14-16s (US) – should be in size 8-10. Of course, that’s the one size range between 20 and 4 where I don’t have many clothes — right now everything I wear is baggy and  This gymslip fitting has been a singular bright spot.  Thanks to some excellent detective work on the part of Twitter and Bluesky readers, I was able to announce that it’s from a Welsh girls’ school that closed in the 1970s, just shy of its 100th anniversary.
  • Attended a small but mightly spanko munch in Santa Monica. This was great fun and a wonderful way to fight the drop from my first TASSP! I’d say it was a “local” brunch but more than half the people I met were visiting from somewhere else.

Internet: 

House & Garden: 

  • Was able to get my garden into (better) shape, front and back. Hopefully everything won’t die off while I’m away July and August.
  • The house is also slowly getting into shape. While “Busy Mija” has been cleaning and organizing, her alter ego “Entropy Girl” keeps leaving messes.
  • Moved some very heavy things all by myself thereby managing to get some impressive bruises.
  • Had a bumper tap accident. No one was hurt, but the damage to the other car (new Tesla), while not noticeable, includes some broken sensors so is going to be super expensive. Enough so I’ve reported it to my insurance rather than paying for the other driver’s damages. So next year’s insurance is going to be super expensive too. Upside?

Reading:

  • I’ve been celebrating the end of the semester/start of summer vacation AND hiding from reality (as said above, things are weird in Los Angeles/California/USA just now) by reading “cosy mysteries” by the armful. Some of the authors I’ve liked best are:
    • Alan Bradley
    • Rhys Brown
    • Laura Childs
    • Karen Baugh Menuhin
    • P.J. Nelson
    • Lydia Travers
    • Charlotte MacLeod (re-reading after almost 35 years)
  • Currently reading:
    • Cherished Belonging by Gregory Boyle  (audio)
    • Heartbreaker by Mike Campbell (audio)
    • Princess of the Savoy by Ron Base and Prudence Emery

 

….and I’m also reading everything I can get my hands on on girls boarding schools.

Related to that, I’ve got more to say and a larger project going up here soon, but will leave this post here as is and save everything else for later. I’ve got enough internet to post this now and may not in another hour.

So, wela di wedyn my friends. 

 

  • 1
    Even now, writing this, I can hardly believe what’s happening.
  • 2
    This prompted me to weigh myself. Without trying I’ve lost more than thirty pounds since September 2024. Explains why everything fits wrong — I’ve been wearing size 14-16s (US) – should be in size 8-10. Of course, that’s the one size range between 20 and 4 where I don’t have many clothes — right now everything I wear is baggy and  This gymslip fitting has been a singular bright spot.

About Uniforms: When This Schoolgirl Boards

Posted on By Mija

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[I began writing this early in the morning on July 3 planning to finish and post it before my flight to London on July 4th. In keeping with this UK trip having “nothing is easy” issues, when I called the airline at 7PM PDT to make sure that everything was set , I received the unhappy news from United that there was a whole other area of  needed documentation culminating with a permission letter from Heathrow Animal Control required for Sutti to travel with me. They were lovely and helpful. Twelve hours of sifting through medical files for needed paperwork and $70+ worth of international calls and Sutti and I were able to board. 

This, and the consequences of my procrastination/overpacking,1More on this problem later. They’re related derailed my plan to write and post this to my blog before I left, however. London was a whirlwind, meeting up with Paul, making sure Sutti recovered well from the flight… on and on. Now in much quieter Wales (we’re in lovely, delightfully named Mumbles, sort of a coastal suburb of Swansea), I’ve not been able to post or do much of anything on the internet because there are lots of connectivity issues. The owner’s struggling to getting BT to turn the internet on, and there’s basically no cellular service either, even with my UK eSIM. Serves me right for wishing so hard for a digital detox. ]

The question isn’t “should I wear a school blazer for tomorrow’s flight?” but rather “which one?”

Blue, Green, Burgundy,or Navy?
Four blazers hang ready, each with its own story—and its own discreet Latin motto waiting to be sewn on with the patch. By the end of this post you may be able to help me decide which one I should wear tomorrow for my flight from Los Angeles to London.

What? Why does a Fifty‑Something Woman Wear Her School Blazer on Planes?
Short answer? Because school blazers are perfect traveling companions, especially when flying. You may think it’s my kink talking here, but come with me on this. My blazers have been the perfect addition to my wardrobe, in and out of scenes. Longer answer? Wearing a school blazer when I fly is the single smartest travel decision I’ve ever made. Doing so combines fashion, function, and playful rebellion against the tyranny of airplane pajamas. Frankly, they look smart!2As I’m writing this I’m remembering that Olympic athletes often have a travel uniform that includes something very like a school blazer. Indeed, the origins of uniform blazers connect to the history of rowing teams.

This was my flight outfit to and from Dallas for TASSP

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  • 1
    More on this problem later. They’re related
  • 2
    As I’m writing this I’m remembering that Olympic athletes often have a travel uniform that includes something very like a school blazer. Indeed, the origins of uniform blazers connect to the history of rowing teams.

It’s the One Year Anniversary of Mija’s Room

Posted on By Mija

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Introductory Note: June rather than January is when the academic year changes at most colleges and universities in the United States. Academic year (AY) 2024-2025 is over; AY 2025-2026 is being rolled out. Paul left on his journey to rediscover his home in early May; I turned in my grades almost exactly a month ago today.  didn’t plan it this way, but it seems a good time to take stock of where I’ve been and where I want to go.

In June 2024, after spending more than a year messing with the layout and design while trying to figure out how to blog again, I pushed the button and made “Mija’s Room” live. My (or at least Mija’s) return to the internet was largely received with silence and disinterest, much to my delight. I wanted to write but feared answering questions, especially about Paul and me, as I figured out if I can be “Mija” again. Blogging was a way to reconnect with the parts of myself that had written stories and discussions on the ass/sss newsgroups for 15 years.

That soft launch was a year ago today this month, though I didn’t formally write a “Welcome” post until the end of September, some three months later.

Since then I’ve tried to write updates regularly, though it’s been less often than I’d like. I managed to post at least once each month, except for April.1That month I did update and add to the stories and links page, but never got around to putting up an actual post. Overall, and being kind to myself, I’m happy with having put up 39 posts and more than 25 pages. It’s been great to have a place to write about kink again in a more sustained way than Twitter/BlueSky can allow. Writing about Paul and me separating and all that accompanied that was harder than I’d expected it to be, especially when it went from a two to a three body problem. I’ve appreciated the support from and reconnection with old friends and the chance to make new ones.

Going to two national (really international) parties where I saw and experienced the changes the rising generation is making, especially in the far greater racial and gender diversity, as well as their comfort with switching is more than I could have hoped for and has been fantastic.

My “Mija” goals for this coming year include:

  1. Write at least two posts, ideally one story and one not-story, every month
  2. Be more timely in replying to readers and make replies regularly on blogs and sites I read
  3. Develop and curate my link pages so as to encourage readers and writers
  4. Inventory “The Cupboard”  (implements) and “The Wardrobe” (uniforms)
  5. Get el tercer ojo and The Punishment Book back up on the web, probably as archives rather than active sites.
  6. Working with Paul, get the The Treehouse back up and get two long-discussed special projects going
  7. Attend as many parties (national and local) as possible
  8. Attend Rosy Peaches and other Southern California munches
  9. Make new friends and reconnect with old ones
  10. Stop caring who knows I’m into spanking

Other goals include:

  1. Gett my house organized by both adding things that I want to add and clearing out the many many things I have that I “don’t find to be useful or believe to be beautiful”
  2. Figuring out the best way to meet my monthly expenses which are currently exceeding my incomings2This was expected and is okay. I’ve got a number of options, none of which involve selling plasma.
  3. Taking better care of my health, physical and mental, and all that entails, including, sadly, several surgeries
  4. Stay in touch with my kink and vanilla friends
  5. Restart calligraphy
  6. Get ready for my too-long-delayed sabbatical in AY 2026-2027
  7. Default to “no” rather than “yes” when asked to add to my work responsibilities
  8. Journal as well as keeping a calendar
  9. Don’t let the grim state of the US and world steal my joy or hope
  10. Do my best to be aware of ALL THE THINGS but don’t beat myself up for every mistake

Writing all of these down will help me remember them and be a gesture toward holding myself accountable.

These are pretty ambitious — I’ll see how well I can do. This is exactly the sort of sustained effort I’ve always struggled with so it will be a test for the efficacy of my ADHD therapy and treatment.

Let’s see how it goes…

 

  • 1
    That month I did update and add to the stories and links page, but never got around to putting up an actual post.
  • 2
    This was expected and is okay. I’ve got a number of options, none of which involve selling plasma.

Gymslip Mystery Solved – An “About Uniforms” Extra Dispatch

Posted on By Mija

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A Special Bulletin from:

The Bell Rings Out

Proudly misprinted every third Thursday since 1914

For Immediate Release (Despite No Authority Granting It)

Though this report falls outside our customary publication schedule (and indeed outside Matron’s good graces), the Editorial Committee has resolved, unanimously and with much thumping of fountain pens, to issue this special edition.

We are compelled to interrupt our regular editorial schedule to bring you this hastily penned, but no less vital, communique, one that has left even the most senior prefects momentarily lost for words (a rare occasion indeed), upset our (admittedly non-existent) posting plans, played havoc with our study schedules, and caused considerable disruption to our indexing of tuck boxes and biscuit crumbs, this paper is pleased — nay, obliged — to issue an unscheduled dispatch.

The circumstance are further news to report on the mysterious gymslip featured in yesterday’s #DailyUniform communiqué (Twitter and BlueSky editions both). Though I wore the gymslip, complete with crest and motto, I didn’t know what school the uniform came from, an embarrassing fact for this reporter. Was it a boarding school? Coed or girls only? Was the  school even still open? Thanks to our loyal readers and their strange encyclopedic knowledge of school uniforms and girl’s boarding schools, the truth is now known!

Word arrived at precisely 3:47 p.m. — carried not by pigeon, but by Trevor Bell  whose dashing entrance through the common room window has already entered local legend. Breathless and biscuit-crumbed, he delivered a parcel of information so curious, so delightfully unplanned, that it demanded immediate attention.

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