What is this phantasmagoria?

I am so addicted to the new series of Dr. Who. Last night Andy, Del, Nat, and I watched four episodes that Will had found online and converted from PAL to play on US dvds. Nothing like pirated Dr,. Who. And the show is so good. The writing is smart but the writing on Dr. Who has always been smart. (That was the higlight of the low-budget show, good writing and good acting.) But this time around they actually have a budget for special effects and production. It looks as good as it should, no grainy film, bad camera shots, and certainly no guys lumbering around in bad monster suites.

The best episode (so far) is one where the Doctor and Rose go back to Cardiff, 1869. There's blue glowing aliens that possess the dead and walk the city and Charles Dickens who shouts out "What is this phantasmagoria!" and "What the dickens!" For the rest of the night we keep repeating, "What is this phantasmagoria!" It's really just a fun word to say.

The fourth episode (can't be bother to look up it's name) was a cliff hanger. Natalie was all, "Put in the next disc!"

"It's midnight," I said, for some reason turing into a responsible adult.

"But the Doctor's in trouble!"

Even though I was all responsible last night and left at midnight and went straight to bed, now I wish we had watched the next episode. The Doctor's in trouble!

Bubbie and Zadie

So I just read something really cool. Apparently, little Jewish boysand girls can write a letter to "Bubbie and Zadie", who live in KAnsas City, and once a year on the first night of Hanukkah magically fly and visit little children and deliver songs ans stories. Not gifts, songs and stories. That's a bit like getting socks, Andy says.

But the author, Danny Bloom, of the book, Bubbie and Zadie Come to My House lives in Kansas City and every year he gets thousands of letters from kids, addressed to the characters, and he writes back. It's like Santa lives in KC. Cool.

Cookies vs. Fishcakes

This is petty. And I'm ashamed to even be talking about it, but all week our clients and vendors have been showering us with holiday themed gifts. This is great. But I've got a case of sibling rivalry and yesterday I was acting like a brat.

Jule has more christmas cards than I. Fine. I mailed out 67 cards to my clients and have only received two in return. Two. But it's not a popularity contest. Fine. Two *muttered under breath*

Then yeterday Jule returns from a home visit with a large chocolate cake. Fine. Someone baked for her. Fine. *more muttering*

And then not an hour later a large box arrives from a home health agency and it is addressed to Jule. And its'sa large tin filled with cookies.

This was not fine. I send just as much business to that agency as Jule. We use them so much because they give us a really good rate. Why wasn't my name on the box, huh?

"It's for all of Social Services," Jule said.

"No, it's addressed to you. If it was for social services it would have said Social Services, Center in the Park."

"I was tryingto make you feel better," she said.

I couldn't stand it! Angrily, I said, "Why is it your clients make you a lovely chocolate cake and my client went to the effort to make little dumplings filled with fish? Fishcakes? I look like someone who enjoys cake without fish, right?"

So it's petty. And silly. And should be grateful that my clients think to make little treats for me because they are really ill and elderly and probably can't even afford a stamp to mail me a stinking cards...Still, fishcakes.

Neil Gaiman answered my annoying email!

So yesterday while playing Urban Dead I ran across a character named Neil Gaiman. Some of you may or may not know, he's my very favorite author. So I wrote to his blog:

I thought you might be interested to know that in the MMORP game Urban Dead (urbandead.com), you have apparently made an appearance in the zombie infested city of Malton: http://www.urbandead.com/profile.cgi?id=286937. I suppose it's ridiculous to bother you to sign a book under such circumstances. Thanks for all the stories.

And Neil wrote:

You're welcome. I'm glad I have axe proficency...


I'm so excited! He read my email! He replied!! He posted!!!

And you can just go to his blog to read for yourself.

Only know do I wish I had signed my name to the email, alas. Foolish Liarbyrd.

(I'm still realyl excited.)

the bad news

Today Andy's company laid off 13 employees, which is not the bad news. Andy was not on the list and still has his job. I'm relieved. All weekend he was depressed and kind of moping about the apartment. This morning he left for work with a forced cheery, "Off to my last day of work!"

He was right, it was the last day for a lot of people in his department. Tonight he's been calling all the other who were laid off. I overhead him say, "I don't know who stood up for me. I sure I was going to be on the list."

We had some suspicion this was going to happen. The Princeton lab's lease is up at the end of the month and everyone knew the people from Princeton were not going to be "transfered" to the other two labs.

Andy is still worried about his job, though, which brings me to the bad news. The lease for the Robinsville lab (the one Andy works in) is up at the end of January. He's expecting another round of lay offs.

Good thing we started working on his resume this weekend. Now we know we have a least a month to polish is up and send it out.

In a way, I'm glad people were let go. Now we don't have to live with the uncertainty, wondering if he was going to get laid off before Christmas, etc.

I'm trying to think of a positive way to end this, but I'm just tired. It's bed time.

Snow Day Weekend

Finally! Friday was a snow day and snow days are the best.

I made french toast for breakfast and finished xmas shopping on line. Which reminds me, Athene, I need your new address.

It's a short post, I know. Sorry.

That's odd

ON my way to get my hair cut this morning, I pass by the Wine & Spirits shop. In the window in a cute display off all the holiday gifts. My eye is caught by a bottle that says: Devonshire Irish Cream Liquor. On the package is a sticker that says, "Imported from Ireland."

I know where Devonshire is. And I know where Ireland is. And I'm pretty sure both Devonshire and the Irish are insulted by this product.

Post Nano Blues

Now that Nano is over I'm a bit sad. Omouse was spot on in her blog. It's th same every year: maddening frustration, lack of sleep, typing, typing, typing, coffee, coffee, typing, and more coffee. I love every minute of it.

And now I must face real life. I have to vacuum the carpet. And do the dishes. (Why is it I can never find a clean spoon?) And those boring real-world things I blithey pushes aside in the heady month of November.

On the bright side, I now how all thise free time I can fill with junk like talking to my husband or playing video games.

Winner!

oh, yeah! 50, 044 words. Four years running!

47,000!

Just posted the very latest in the Lab, so now you have exactly everything that I've written right up until this moment. Even went back and updated the old Space Ghost Stories chapter. Now it features a theoretical discussion on the Gorm and how Portia's not too old for Bea to send to her room.

I'm going to see if I can do any more tonight. I really want to be able to finish this thing tomorrow.

40,561!

A three thousand word day!

Now I need a nap.

I updated the lab with about five new chapters. (I was working on bits of them at the same time.) If it's jumpy of doesn't make sense, remember: I am very ill.

39000!

Woo-who! I'm going to make it!

The Sicks

It's official. I have strep throat. Fortunately, I also have antibiotics, orange juice, a laptop, and Andy at my beck and call.

And Natalie, who braves unknown germs to deliver me gatorade, bananas, and egg nog because she knows I like it. Thank you. :)

Andy cancelled our Turkey Day plans at the Belancios because I'm no fun to be around and who wants me coughing all over the food? Yeah. So Andy went out this evening to the madhouse grocers and got us the making of our "sad sick Thanksgiving." We have frozen ravilois and fancy Newman's Own sauce. Not as nice as the Belancios (what is. Will is a killer cook.) but this way I'll keep the germs to a minimun.

And I'm trying to write. I'm resting and have a little bit of energy now (enough to blog) so I want to do a thousand words at the minimun. Tomorrow I should be better and I can do more.

Currenlty, I'm at 34,322.

34,000!

Finally, I seem to be over the wall and hitting my second wind.

Week three is always the roughest. That's just about the point where I run out of planned plot and my narrative sputters, running out of gas, if you will.

But all that's changed, baby!

Inspiration struck last night at 11:30, when I was sleeping. I woke up and I had such a good idea that I ran to the computer to type it in before it drifted away.

28,455!

I crossed 28k last night at midnight and then promptly went to bed. This morning I want to hit 30k, before noon when the real world catches up with me.

Jule is running the Philadelphia Marathon on Sunday and Natalie and I have been appointment her support team. Tonight we're taking her out for a nice dinner filled to the brim with calaories. Sunday we tool around Philly, waiting to shout "Go Jule!" at various parts of the race, and then we scrape her off the finish line and take the chick home.

Jule says that if Natalie and I do a good job, we can be her offical support team and follow her to other marathon. We'll need snazzy tee-shirts, though., with a cute team name. (Natalie is all about the Two Fat Chicks Marathon Support Team, for the irony.)

It'll be a good day but I don't think I'll get much writting done.

Yesterday I said as much to her and she said, "I am running a marathon, it is very important."

"Nanowrimo is my marathon, too! Writting 50 thousand words is a marathon."

So after the race on Sunday, she'll be my support team. :)

Glamorous Harrisburg, Baby!

Tuesday the Alzheimer's Association had a rally at the state capital to support House Bill 566, the Family Caregiver Support Act. Long story short, it's a very good bill and directly affects my job. It would raise my budget from $200/mo to $600 to help the elderly stay in their home. (Write your State Senator to support it. That's you, Natalie/Delmar.)

Jule and I decided that going to Harrisburg was important. We had scheduled meetings with State Senators and State Reps. We were grouped into teams and we conveyed the important of suuporting this bill and how it saves the state money in the long run. Really, $600 a month to let a family keep their loved one home and out of an instituation, which is like $10k a month? Huge money saver. And the fact that Jule and I work with the program everyday helped to focus the conversation ( I think) and answer some tough questions the Senators had.

Such as, Senator Tomlinson. "Did you just get tobacco money a few years ago."

I jumped in. "True, but the Dept. of Aging split that money with other programs. Family Caregivers used it to expand the program and increase the number of people served. My office went from serving 130 people to 195. Bill 566 keeps the current number of people served will increase the monthly limit on what we can spend, increasing the help they already receive."

Pretty good save. Tomlinson said that was impressive. :)

Then he said, "The Govenor wants us to find $35 million for heating this winter."

Jule comes in with the best line of the day: "The winter is only three months. This program makes a difference all year long."

Our team leader, Bob (who is also on the board of directors for the Alzheimer's Association) said we did a great job and he wished every team had social workers to help.

So, a very long and very tiring day but very rewarding. And I actually like this government stuff. :) I came home really jazzed about my day and babbled joyfully about who said what to whom and how brilliant I was, etc, and Andy said I missed my calling. I don't know about that, but I deffinately want to do more.

22047

I'm kickign butt!!

Right now Portia made a very bad pass at Franklin who had the decency to tell her she's like his little sister. That did not go over well.

Meanwhile, in Jenny's novel, I'm totally in love with her characters. *sigh* "PLease give me a bunny." Ah ha ha. Ah ha ha.

19,600!

I'm going to make it to 20k before the night it out, meaning I'll have written an impressive 3000 words this afternoon. That also means my ass is sore from all this sitting and I have half a dozen soda cans littering the computer desk.

Updated the lab, too. Check it out.

I love to vote!

Andy comes home this evenign at 6:30 and I'm hard at work writing. He asks, "Did you vote?"

Of course I voted, I think. I lectured people about the importance of voting, even in the minor eletions. But I don't answer...

"Did you?"

"I forgot."

"What!"

"Nano..." I say weakly.

"Put your shoes on woman, I'll take you out voting."

Just then Jenny calls and she, too, forgot to vote. Ha! So it wasn't just me.

After executing my duty as a good citizen, Andy takes me out to dinner. He believes it's really clever to say things like, "Dammit, woman, I don't tell you how to vote but I do tell you to vote."

(This is spurned by a comment a client made to me last year about how she voted that day and "My husband real good to mer. He doesn't tell me how to vote." Funny, in a wierd way.)

That kid's got a case of the Fossey

SO there Andy and I were, doing our food shopping, and this little girl comes dancing around the corner, following her mum pushing the cart. She's tapping her feet, swinging her hips, and doing jazz hands.

"She's got to dance," I said.

"She's got the Fossey," Andy said. And then he said, "Jazz hands!"

what the fuck

I'm not sure what happened...I went to change the template and all my lovely links and tag board dissapeared.

I'll fix it tomorrow, if the Omouse doesn't see her way to fixing it first. :)

8412

Jenny, Natalie, and Tracy all called me today to remind me to get off my butt and write. Thank you all for the poke in the ass. It was appriciated.

Some of the older posts in the Lad have been updated with the more recent rewriting. All newer version include a higher word count, of course. And in this version Portia has a Personality and actually gets into a fight with her boss. Cool. She also has this unhealthy love an anime show, Superpower Kung-Fu Koalas.

And to round out the day, things are now moving in the story. Portia's even in jail.

I'm going to leave her there until the morning, so she can learn her lesson.

My Bad

As Jenny pointed out this evening on my answering machine, I have been remiss in posting the novel as I write it. My bad. It's all waiting the Lab now, toasty warm.

I'm not writing today. My brain hurts. And now I'm going to bed.

Strike

Septa, the public transit authority is on strike. This makes the already lousy Philly traffic exceptionally lousy. As I was walking down Germantown Avenue, fetching my lunch from the corner deli, I mentally grumbled about the cars double parking, the crowded streets, and the impatient drivers honking and honking like that could do anything. The strike is three days old and I've been late to work everyday. Driving anywhere takes twice as long.

And it suddenly occured to me: The strike was going to be in my novel.

Excited, I hustled back to my office and started writing notes on a fax coversheet. Ah, the magic of NaNoWriMo...

Two Days and Counting

Two days to go and the only thing not finished on my list is cleaning the curtains. It'll just have to wait until December.

I finally cleaned out the Chalet and made it writer friendly. I have a clean, empty expanse of desk, notebook and pen neatly to one side, and inspirational Chris Baty quotes taped to the wall. Nano '05 is going to rock.

A "Good Story" house

My job is great. I go into the homes of many people. The homes vary, the people vary. Some are wonderful and inspirational and you feel like a better person just for knowing them. Others are...well, a good story. Yeah, that was today.

The house was nasty. Nasty, nasty, nasty. I wonder if it's actually possible for it to stink from the outside? Because as I was ringing the bell, I was cranning my neck around to try to find the source of that funky smell. The source was not outside.

First off, the caregiver could not be bother to wear clothes. He wore a bathrobe and I'm postive that was all. Not even socks. So a naked guy in a robe answered the door. Good start.

And walking into that house was like hitting a wall of stink and it only got denser and thicker the closer I got to the client. Who is a lovely lady but bedridden with cancer.

The stink downstairs is nothing compared to smell upstairs. There's little old lady in the middle of bed and hardly any room to walk around the bed. There are plastic bags of clothes (maybe) all over the floor. There's a commode, an oxygen tank, a bedside table....all this nice hospital equipment but covered with junk. None of it is easily usable for the client.

I sat on my coat on a old red chair next to the client's bed. There's a reason I also bring a jacket or coat with me on visits, to tackfully protecting my behind from sitting in something gross. My leg kept brushing against this plastic bag on the floor. I'm not sure what was in the bag but the bag was WET. In my mind I'm screaming, "Oh! Gross!! Now I have to burn these pants!!!" But I smile and don't say anything. Directly.

And some of the bags moved. I know, it's just mice, but I hate mice. They give me the willies more than anything. I can handle sinks and unidentified wet surfaces but mice...I'm going to scream like a little girl.

And I keep coming back to the sink of urine, I know, but it was something foul. Honestly, in the middle of the visit I'm gagging and trying to cover it up like a cough, all the while wondering in a panic what to do if I puke all over this nice lady in her bed. That's bad.

The son, who is the caregiver, just had surgery and he's telling me how hard it is to keep up the house. Which I happened to notice. And he's telling me he's on disability for his arthritis but hands me half a dozen anti-psychotic medications that he's taking.

I don't want to take the mom out of the house. She's clean. She's being cared for. I talked with her privately and she said she was happy and safe. But clearly the house needs some housekeeping services pronto. I'm giving the son a week to find someone privately to help with the housekeeping or I'm arranging an agency. Fuck it, I'll call Merry Maids if I have to.

I couldn't get home fast enough to take a shower. I think the stink clung to my clothes. And the coat has to be dry cleaned now. See, a good story.

sick day

I made it half way to work this morning when I decided that the desperate game I was playing of sneezing and trying to get a kleenex out of my pursing while driving in rush hour traffic was stupid and I should go home.

So I did. I'm congested and my sinuses hurt like they're trying to escape out of my head.

A werewolf!

I wish I could say I know knew, or at least suspected...but apparently Neil Gaiman suffers from the same curse as Hemmingway.

He wrote on 10/15/2005: Day five of not-shaving, and I am starting to look a little like a werewolf.

Here's the photographic proof. I'm shocked.

Dharma Shark burgers

I love Lost. And I love all the funny websites associated with the show.

Cool

This
is how a really fun book should start. Hell, it could be Nano 2006.

Happy Columbus Day

I'm not really sure what is proper protocol in observing the holiday. Adopt an Italian accent? Claim a section of the living room for Espana?

I, however, endevored to make a pair of grossly pink with white kitten flannel jim-jams...for the long noveling month ahead, of course. And my sewing machine crapped out on me. Oh, and I was going to work on Halloween costumes. See, it's not all about the sugary sweet/potential birth control pajamas.

After struggling with the machine, sweet talking it, patiently treding and retreading, even when the bobbin lost tension and created a rat's nest...(stupid peice of crap, 99 bucks on sale at Sears...grumble, grumble...)I lost patience at noon. All morning, no jim-jams.

So I took it to the repair shop. "If it costs more thant 40 bucks to fix you, I guess you'll make someone a lovely doorstop," I said on the drive in. There's no point to the story, I'm just really cheesed off.

And that was the highlight of my day. I did, however, knock one item off my list. There is now a spanking new shower curtain in the bathroom. *applause* Thank you, thank you.

Nano Countdown

I'm making a list of everything that needs to be done before November so I can completely ignore my husband and house with a free conscious. So far I have:

1. Burn photo cds for Melanie, Rick, Jenny, Debbie, and Clare. Right.
2. Really scrub the kitchen clean.
3. Stock up on tea and hot chocolate mixes.
4. Organize closet.
5. Finally move all the old Word files off Ian so Natalie can do something to him that I don't really understand.
6. Clean desk.
7. Wash all the curtains.
8. New shower curtain.
9. Eat Halloween candy in sick amounts.


It's a fun list, as you can see. Very grown up.

Firefly

I saw Serentiy this afternoon. Josh Whedon is on my list of "people who owe me money/I have to kick in the nuts".

Let me explain. Natalie hands me the box set of Firefly, a short lived t.v. show. She says I'll love it. I remembered the show when it originally aired but never got into it. I was willing to give it another go.

I don't like Firefly. I love it. It's a truly great show. Great cast of characters, snappy dialogue, all the things I love.

The show was cancelled and has resurfaced as a movie. I couldn't wait to see it.

And the movie was fun. A good movie. Except Wash died!

Wash died!!!! And for ten horrible minutes, I was sure that the rest of the cast was going to snuff it as well.

I'm still in shock. Josh Whedon is on my list.

Monkey Fish

So the little cat, Ethel, says to me, "Stupid monkey."

"What did you say?"

"You heard me, stupid monkey. M-u-n-k-p-h-i-s-h-e-y. Monkey."

"But there's no ph-"

"The fish is for smelling, no spelling, Munkphishey."

"Right."

I really shouldn't pick fights the cats.

Andy's Poem

A poem about shoes, by Andy:

Flippity-flappity,
My shoes are quite crappity.
Happity-heappity,
I'd by more, but I'm too creapity.

Thank you.

Faboo!

Which Animaniacs Character are You?

Talkative, huh? Perhaps sing-ative would be more appropriate, actually. When people don't understand something, it usually drives you to cutting, sarcastic remarks. Your other extreme is bursting into song with almost no prompting, often to explain complex ideas. No one knows quite what you are, exactly. You have made many "special" friends, and there's baloney in your slacks.

Click here to see my Livejournal.

Talk like a pirate day

Avast, me mateys!

Arr...In case ye dogs be wondering, it be Talk Like a Pirate Day.

In addition, ye may be wantin' to take a look ar a very impressive chart which links the decline of pirate and the rise of glodal warming.

Novartis

Andy's company, Nexmed, just partnered with Norvartis! The announcement was just made this morning, so no one knows yet how this thing is going to shake out but on the surface it's pretty good news. It involvesthe toenail fungus product they've been working on (kinda gross) and Norvartis likes the product so much, they're going to throw money at Nexmed. So, good news.

Mr. Mouse, Infected

This
is like the thing I get all panicky about when I see a mouse. They could carry the plague, I know, and now I read a little article on Yahoo saying plague infected mice dissapeared from their lab in New Jersey. Ohmigod. Now I can never go back to New Jersey.

Oh, that Sky News

Apparently this aired on Sky News in Ireland, thus illustrating the importance of quotation marks.

Operation Snaggletooth

It's been 24 hours now since the operation and I'm starting to feel like a human being again.

First off, I was awake for the surgery. When I called the office Monday afternoon, they said I did not have to fast for general anesthetia. Imagine how upset I was when the nurse told me hat it was localized anesthetia or nothing, I could wait a week if I really wanted to be unconscious...I didn't want to wait a week but I didn't want to be awake...

Okay, awake it is. And it was horrible. Never, ever, ever be awake when you're having a tooth removed. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. It didn't hurt but the sound....The worst part was when I heard the bone break.

(Ugh. I can't stop shivering when I think about it.)

I will say that yuo have to be pretty damn strong to be a dentist, because that man had to hold me down and I was squirming and fighting.

So, only luke warm soup and soft foods. NO chewing for another day. Which is fine because I can't get my mouth open more than a crack.

The swelling's down. The bleeding stopped. And it doesn't even hurt too much anymore. I am hungry, though. I haven't had proper food in week. Last night I actually dreamed of pancakes, which is an insight to how sad I am and how much I love pancakes, I guess.

Fucking, Austria

It makes me giggle.

The Tooth of the Matter

Yes, I know. I should ashamed of myself and these stupid puns.

After about four days of agony with an aching tooth, I call the dentist Saturday morning. She calls in a prescription for antibiotics and pain killers. The pain killers help but it still hurts. And I have to eat something to keep the antibiotics down but it hurts to eat anything. It hurts putting any type of pressure on my fucking tooth. So I slurp a little pudding and pretend it's a hamburger.

This afternoon, I go in to see the dentist. I tried to get an earlier appointment but 3 pm is the earliest they've got. I know what the problem is, which tooth it is: the snaggle-tooth. (It broke about two years ago. Didn't hurt at the time.) My snaggle-tooth is abscesed. It'll have to be removed. Okay. I can accept this. I'm willing to part with the broken tooth if it'd just stop hurting. The bad news is they can not do the surgery for another week. Is that okay?

I start crying. It's embarresing, I suffer through blinding pain but can't get out a coherent word when the dentist tells me she can't help me. They had to call in Andy from the waiting room because I was clearly in no state to make a decision.

The dentist did find a surgeon who could do it tomorrow morning. Fabulous. (This is what a crying woman can accomplish.)

Andy's been real good to me. He's driving me around because I'm in no state to drive, brings me soda and chocolaty pudding cups, and he's taking off tomorrow. So tonight I'm going to try to eat what I can because I'm sure I won't be able to eat anything tomorrow.

I've been mesmerized

Can't believe it's been two weeks since my last post. No excuses, I've just been playing this damn Ratchet and Clank PS2 game and it seems to suck out my brain.

On a different note, Christopher Walken for President!

Rocky!

Lately it's been so hotthatthe only thing to do is melt in a puddle and whine about heat. Currenlty, i am parked in front of the a.c. and sipping a glass of ice cold water, chilled in the freezer for a few minutes to get that frsty mug effect.

Monday Natalie calls me and says, "What are you doing?"

"I don't know. What am I doing?"

"We're going to the Trocadero and watching Rocky Horror for three dollars."

"Hell, ya!"

The Troc is a club in Center City, in the Chinatown, actually, and use to be a silent film theater. They show movies every Monday for $3 a ticket.

Nat, Del and myself had kick-ass Vietnamese at the this place called Pho Calli. It had just opened so the floors were extra shinny but the food was gorgeous...And bubble tea, not like that other place which has it on the menu but never actually has any in the resturaunt...

Teh show started at 8. And Captain Morgan was doing a promotion of this horrid shot called a "tattoo" but the admission and booze was on the Captian! Can't argue with that. And they gave out free temp. tattoos and the shot glasses the drink came in. Very nice.

The showwas great. Actors played all the parts, the audience was loud, and we were allowed to have props! The best Rocky I've been too yet and an excellent Monday night out. I was dead tired the next morning, though.

On a side note, the most intesting Rocky I've been too was at UKC where the audience was silent and people actually watched the movie like it was a good piece of film. Strange.

Those Kids in Lawrence

I heard this on the radio. The address is at 14th and Tennesse, which is only a few blocks west of my old place and firmly in the student ghetto. I can't believe they took the kitten, though. Poor kitty.

OK Go!

This is just about the coolest music video ever. The band is OK Go and the song is "A Million Ways." Totally worth the download time on dial-up.

Which HP

Home At Last!!

Got home safely Saturday night. The flight was good. Read the new Harry Potter. (And I can not believe the ending!!) Sunday I woke up bright and early at 3 in the morning and made myself lay in bed until 5. Andy thought it was cute, me being jet lagged and unable to sleep because my enternal clock thought it was nearly noon. Fell to sleep at an alarming early hour and woke up bright and early Monday morning at 5, again.

Going back to work is hard. Today I did get up with the alarm, not hours before, but I somehow forgot how to do my job. Couldn't remember my computer password. Left for a home visit today with my briefcase but nothing in it. Work is hard *in an aexasperated voice*.

Glad to be home. Miss seeing Jen, Deb and Clare everday, though.

Bournemouth

Sitting at an internet cafe now in Bournemouth, waiting for Jenny to finish whatever it is she needs to do.

One more day before returning home. Going on holiday is nice but coming home is even nicer! I miss the Andy, the Hrothgar, the Aethel, and a proper size shower and having more than one pair of shoes to wear and lots of clean, fresh towels! There's really no place like home.

Holiday

I don't expect to be posting too much while I'm out and about in England with the UKC girls, but you never know. Gotta go, now. There's planes to be caught.

Jake's War Wound

Mom called me last night and gravely informed me that Jake was injured. "What? How? Is he okay?" I think I stopped breathing for a moment.

Then Mom blithey says that Jake whacked himself in the head with a crowbar.

Funny, Mom, really funny.

Apparently, my brother was driving the fork lift, things weren't going well, he got out and somehow a crowbar figured into the equation...Mom's story gets fuzzy here...And he ended up smacking the crowbar right into his forehead. Ten stitchs and he'll have a nasty scar in the middle of his forehead.

"I asked him if he passed out and he said no," Mom said. I don't belive him. Ten stitchs...that means it was a nasty gash and he lost a lot of blood. Jake must be too embaressed to say he fainted. I mean, hitting yourself in the head with a heavy iron tool is pretty embaressing on it's own.

Last year (or ther abouts) Jake broke a cheek bone in a similar situation with a crowbar. Yup, pretty embaressing.

I don't know what it is with Jake and crowbars but he should be banned from using them.

All this story really proves is that my mom has a broken sense of humor.

One Week

One week to go. Iso excited. I've got my baggage sitting on the spare bed surrounded by all the junk I plan on taking. And I have a countdown schedule, cause you know how I love to make schedules.

Monday: drop off dry cleaning. Make photocopies of passport, cards, ID, etc.
Tuesday: get manicure and pedicure, because it's important to well groomed
Wednesday: pick up dry cleaning, last minute items
Thursday: do laundry, fold, pack, etc.
Friday: Last day of work! Go to the airport.

I love it when a plan comes together.

Where's Mel?

Rick arrived from Pheonix Thursday night. Apparently I scowled at him when he crossed the security check point. Honestly, I wasn't scowling but I had already chased around some other guy who looked a lot like Rick and didn't I feel foolish when i realized it wasn't Rick...and he didn't look very Rick like. Got rid of the goatee and just had this handlebar mustache.

I said, "You look like a walrus." Always a good way to open the conversation when you haven't seen a friend in a year.

Lee and Melanie arrived Saturday and now the whole gang was here. That night Natalie threw a smashing BBQ and a good time was had by all.

Sunday saw the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall (because you must do that if you go to Philadelpia) and then we took a tour of the Eastern State Penatentury, which is very cool.

Monday was Atlantic Cty. I won $25! Hey,I know to quit when I'm ahead. Snagged stuffed animals from the crane machine, Melanie bought two skirts from a shop on the boardwalk, and basically my feet were killing me. They still are.

Tuesday we did a little tour of the Revolutionary War barracks in Trenton, which was surprisingly cooler than I expected it to be. My feet hurt there, too.

Yesterday Lee said I exhausted him, which is a feather for my cap. Lee has boundless energy and it's impossible to tire him, but I did it. And lots of walking. Lots of it.

Now everyone's gone and I miss them and my apartment is empty. *sad mel* Oh, sure, Andy's here and then there's the cats, but I miss people.

I know my narrative was not really expansive, but I'm dead tired. I didn't get to sleep until midnight because I didn't want to say good-bye. (That sounds far more Drama Queen than I intended.)

The Gang from Kansas

Sorry I've been quiet. The gang from Kansas is here this week and we've been off and about in the city. My poor feet are purple and sore and so forth. I will write a detailed blog on wednesday. Tomorrow, we send people back to the airport and I relax.

Sick Little Kitty

Saturday Aethel got her vacines. No big thing. The vet said she might be unsually sleepy. Okay. The day passes without incident. Sunday morning at little before 6, I roll over in bed and realie it's wet. Gross. The cat was sick in the bed. Ew. Ew. Nasty. And the really sick thing is, I was so tired as it was not yet six a.m. that I honestly considered rolling over and ignoring it. That's gross.

(The mess is clean, the cat is fine, even if she was barfy most of the day. Toda she seems fine.)

Girlie Adventures

I wanted to write a quick little post about the mad fun Natalie andI had on Saturday on a Girl's Day Out: Flea Market, stumbling into a gay bar, Trader Joe's, making cookies...all good stuff. But there's a thunder storm at the moment and I'm going to sign off *big bolt of lightening just made me jump out of my skin* before the electricty goes out. Tah!

George Lucas Still Owes Me Money

I'm making a little list of film makers who riped me off. I honestly believe that I'm owed a refund for particularly bad movies. Topping the list is Woody Allen. He owes me $8 and one night of my life for having to sit through Curse of the Jape Scorpion. That film is inexcusable.

George Lucas owes me the cost of addmission for Phantom Menance and Attack of the Clones. Those were bad, bad movies. The newest one was not bad. It wasn't good, but not bad. We'll call that a draw but Lucas still owes me sixteen bucks!

Case Histoies

It seems a literary blog site has names Kate Atkinson's Case Histories as it's book of the month. I really admire Atkinson's writing and her latest has an eerie quality to it that's very unsettling.

It just broke, honestly!

Funny how things work out. Just last week I said to Andy, "I think I'd like a digital camera."

"You just has a birthday! Why didn't you tell me a month ago?"

"Just occured to me. Besides, I can wait to Christmas."

Then Saturday, at a lovely Memorial Day cook-out, my camera breaks. The film rewinds. The thing shuts down, and the batteries were good, I swear. I pop in fresh batteries, nothing. It won't turn on, nothing. Andy and a small group of people were standing around at the time because I was tying to get a good photo of everyone, so I have plenty of witnesses who swear that I DID NOT break the camera.

I pass the camera around. Everyone has a chance to fiddle with it and everyone agrees, it's dead. Passed on. Has ceased to be.

Andy says, "I told everyone at work that I was buying a digital camera this weekend," with that knowing smirk of his.

"It was an accident!"

"Uh-huh."

Sunday I cruised the internets, looking for my camera, and came across this guy. It's pretty cool, too. Fancy but not too fancy and easy enough for me to use without cursing at it, which is important.

Again, following Jenny's lead

:: how jedi are you? ::


Cool.

29

It seems I have been remiss in mentioning my birthday. It was very nice. Andy left out my present on the table the night before, just to taunt me. It was smallish, like a book, but he kept saying he got me an adventure. I couldn't stand the anticipation!

The next morning, I torn into it, revealing a little red journal and gift certificates to my favorite clothing store and a videogame store. Cool.

After a hard day of me parading around saying I could possibly answer the phone or do any paperwork because it was my birthday, Andy took me out to dinner, the food was average. But the Rasberry Martini I ordered was huge! Clearly it was some sort of novelty glass as it was twice the size of a regular martini glass. But I drank it, no complaints here.

After dinner, Andy took me out for a water ice. We're standing in line at the Dairy Delight (corny name, I know) and there's an entire little league team in front of us. One kid, #8, kept throwing his hat in the air and shouting "Orange Sherbert!" I meanwhile, was a little tipsy and felt the need to tell people it was my birthday. When it comes down to it, I'm a cheap drunk.

Grandma called when I got home. All the conversation I was good for was "martinis and ice cream." Now she thinks I'm a lush.

And the following Saturday I went to the mall and spent all those loverly gift ertificates. I got the game, Psychonauts, which is so cool!!!

Sunday, the Natalies and Delmar held a Mel-B-Que, to celebrate my slow approach to 30. The tree in the back yard was decorated with a half dozen little violet and deep purple packages hanging from the branches. I said, "You got me a Pennsylvania Present Tree for my birthday? Cool!"

And the moral of the story is that everything is cool on your birthday.

My Continuing Adventures in Russian Cuisine

I love food. And I'm all for trying new, exotic dishes. I'm all for ordering something called Thousand Year Bread because it sound cool. But I swear, there are somethings I know are nasty just by looking at 'em.

I'm at a Russian client's house this afternoon. Usually an appointment with a Russian involves tea, etc and I've come to accept that there is no way for me to avoid this. I eat a light lunch and get on with it.

So I was offered tea, accepted and was served a bowl of "groscha" with the tea. Apparently this is dish of cold chicken, hard boiled eggs, dill, green stuff, topped with sour cream. It didn't look bad. Then the woman poured some cold brown liquid all over it. Not merely enough for a dressing, enough to turn the bowl into soup.

And then brown stuff...It was like beer, but maltier and more fermented and vaguely sweet, like a prehistoric beer that could jump you in an alley and take all your money.

So I guess groscha (only my phonetic spelling)is beer soup. I was told this dish is served on warm summer days.

And you know how good I am at acting. I couldn't take two polite sips befor everyone knew it "was not for me." I didn't want to be rude but I couldn't even force myself to choke the beer soup down. Easily one of the grossiest culinary things to cross my path ever.

Which Sci-Fi author are you?

I am: Gregory Benford A master literary stylist who is also a working scientist.

Which science fiction writer are you?

Which is funny, because the site says that Benford once took the test and it told him he was Arthur C. clark. Ha!

And as much I think Benford is a big gas bag, I see how my writing style is similar.

Amazing Linguistic Tricks

Last night, the Natalies and I went to Chicken Holiday (which is a silly name, I know, but they have good chicken) and the guy behind the countr said to me, "I tell from your accent that you spent some time in Texas."

Me, stunned, said, "Um, yeah. I spent a good bit of my childhood in Texas."

"And you were also in Kansas City."

I practically fainted. That's a dead impressive parlor trick.

I Wanna Go to the Time Travel Conference!

A student at MIT is hosting a time traveling conference on May 7, 2005. He's sending out the invitations now and anyone from the future is invited to attend, no registration necessary.

I don't think I need to repeat how much I love the idea of time travel and anything tenuously connected to it.

The Cops!

Ten minutes after my last post, the police finally arrive. Renne escorts the officer through the office, starting with the broken window. Jule and I lurk in the background because we're nosey. At the front door, the officer says, "I can't pull any prints off of this. Too many people have used it. You should have called earlier."

I thought Jule's head was going to explode. She whispers to me, "We called at 9! It's not our fault it took them two hours to get here."

Granted, in Philadelphia, the cops respond to a lot of horrible calls. No one was bleeding here so we were on the bottom of the list. We're lucky the cop fit us in before lunch.

Right now she's dusting my desk, monitor, and CPU tower. Since the doors are no good, the best chance of getting prints is off the computer the theif was planning on taking but didn't, for some reason. I wouldn't have minded (so much) if my crappy computer was gone but Jule keeps complaining about her stereo. Now she's trying to coach me into saying it was a new stereo, for insurance fraud, I guess.

My Bloody Anniversary

I wanted to write quick little story about waking up this morning and finding my present from Andy on the sofa. He said, "The cats brought this in, I have no idea what it is." And it's this set of apple green mixing bowls from Williams Sonoma that I said I liked about a month ago. And two awesome spatulas that never stain and are heat resesitant. Cool. (I guess part of being a grown up is receiving kitchen stuff and being excited about it.)

But in the process of opening the box, I gave myself a fantasic papercut right on the knuckle of my left index finger. And it bleed. And bleed.

Went to the bathroom for a bandaid (plaster) and we have none. 2 bottle of cough syrup, lots of antibacterial ointment and medical tape. So I wrapped my finger up in medical tape least I bleed my way through breakfast.

I get to work and my office is ransacked. The tower of my computer is unplugged and in the middle of the room. I thought, "Maybe there was a dead mouse behind my desk. Sure is nice of someone to clean it up."

Then I noticed that the stereo is gone. Files from the desk are scattered on the floor. Drawers opened. And, oddly, and empty cannister of antifreeeze on the floor.

I don't jump to conclusions. But then Jule said she didn't leave the office looking a pig sty and the computer from our boss's office is also gone...Crap. We were robbed. Again. The second time in two months.

After we realized that, it was obvious that other desks were ransacked. Nothing else was gone, just the stereo and computer.

And then we noticed that smashed window in the lobby, glass everywhere. And the tool marks on the front door where it was pried opened.


It's amazing how you don't notice these things when your hustling in the door at 8.28 am.

Now we're waiting for the police to show up. We called at nine, it's now 11 am. Philly cops take their time.

I can't work now. I've been told not to touch my desk because it has finger prints. Besides, I really can't focus back in that office today, knowing that a stranger was there, maliciously pawing our stuff.

Happy Birthday Clare

Happy Birthday to a great, dear, funny and tall friend who is firmly in her twenties and not where near thirty and allow me to add that this message in no way should be considered late because it's not. Sure, it's being posted on May 3rd but I knew the 1st was your birthday and only a mind explodingly painful migrane kept me from expressing sincre birthday salutations. Honest. Ask Andy.

Yankee

Your Linguistic Profile:

45% Yankee

30% General American English

15% Dixie

10% Upper Midwestern

0% Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

But I actually am Midwestern and apparently my Midwesternese is 0. How troubling. And I even say Catty-corner and everything.

Named!

After observing the new cat run amuck in the apartment, witness her fearlessly climbing shelves nad catching her trying to balance herself on top of the curtains in the living room, we named her Aethelfled. That's right, Aethelfled, like the Lady of Mericia, fearless 9th century warrior who fought back the Vikings even after most of her family was slaughtered. Well, honestly, it hadto match Hrothgar. Can't have a cat named Hrothgar and another named Miss Whiskers.

And Aethel is trouble. Acording to her world view, anything plastic is edible. And she does not yet know that, "Hey, you! Stop that!" actually means for her to stop trying to eat whatever inedible thing she's trying to eat.

On the bright side, she pretty fearless and prances around like she owns the apartment. She and Hrothgar are no longer hissing and can actually lay six inches apart on the ottoman without anyone's feeling getting hurt. She's not too freidnly with the monkeys yet but give her time. She actually gets quite close to us when she thinks we're not looking. Aethel's fitting right in.

Another Cat

Last Thursday, the NAtalies and I were in the Petsmart to get the Hrothgar food. Cats need to eat, apparently. At the front of the store is the rescue animals up for adoption, looking cute and pathetic and pitful (all at the same time) in their cages. Jokingly, I said, "I take one if they have one with half a tail."

But the joke was one me. They had two cats with partial tails. Poor, cute things. They were both raised in a lab and used to teach doctors to do intubations on small children. Ack. They're a year old and have spent their entire lives in a cage. And they are absolutely tiny, only four pounds! They don't even have names, just tatooes on the ears. That's the part that breaks my heart the most.

Needless to say, I feel in love with the lab cats. ONe is a calico and the other a dark grey tabby. Both are sweet and purred loudly and affectionet and cuddly. Damn. I had to take one home.

It took some work, twisting Andy's arm, calling the landlord to assure Andy that we would not have to pay another pet deposit fee. I joking told him I needed to bury all my maternal love into a cat, or have a baby. He saw things my way pretty quickly. By Monday we agreed to adopt one of the cats. I consider it my birthday present and in no way a child replacement. Yesterday I got word that the application was approved and we can pick up the tabby (I'm going with the tabby) up on Sunday.

We're still kicking around ideas for a name. The cat's personality should give us some idea but I do want the name to match Hrothgar. I mean, it'd be silly to have a great old name like Hrothgar and pair it up with Buttons. So I'm taking suggestions on outrageous names.

I've already plunder short list from Beowulf: Wealhtheow, the wife of Hrothgar (but that's kind of sickening sweet, isn't it) and Modthryth, which is really hard to say.

I also wanted to post the link to the Northeast Animal Rescue of Philadelphia and maybe even the cat's photo if it was on the web, but google can't seem to find it. I know it exisits, at Petsmart I saw the website on a sign taped to the door that said "Do not enter, volunteers only."

So, send in the name ideas. Shape a piece of the cat's destiny! Own a small portion of it's soul, etc.

Oh, Mulder

David Duchovny has his own blog. I still get a little weak in the knees thinking about Mulder.

Bible Man

Okay, this is something I would not have believed if I had not seen it with my own eyes. Andy yelled at me, "Mel, come quick." I, with a towel rwrapped around my head, came into the living room.

"What?" Nothing was on fire and no one was bledding, so what was so important to get me out of the shower.

"It's Jesus man and he's fighting a demon."

Indeed he was. A kight in shining armor was fighting with two light sabers a green faced demon (who looked very much like a cheep version of Jim Carey in The Mask). Oh my god.

The acting was bad. The dialogue was hilarious. Apparently Bible Man was rescuing his African American friend in faith. Bible man is, of course, clean cut and WASPy.

"Like steel hones steel," Bible Man said, "we hone each other..." to defeat evil or something, I didn't catch the rest because I was laughing. Bible Man and his friend were so GAY. They hone each other, right.

I really wish I had seen more of the show. The production value was like something I could make in my basement and the it was so funny. Gott a love the propoganda.

Liarbyrd's Laboratory

The old Nanowrimo site has undergone a little redecorating and is now Liarbyrd's Laboratory! Wow! Actually, the name change is probably a good idea because now it can be a place to put all my writings, etc for peer review (that's your job). As the Mauldy Institute, it was really only good for last year's Nano novel.

So, thre's a fresh story waiting in the lab, use the ink to the right. Please read and leave comments, you know I always need the editing and revision help.

Andy's New Game

Andy has been playing a new game. In bed, just as I drift off to sleep, he says, "What are you doing?"

"What do you want?" I ask.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you want."

"What are you doing?"

"What do you want!"

"Have any gum?"

"I'm in bed, in my jammies...No, I ain't got no gum!"

Oh, he thinks it's funny.

Banksy

I find this inspirational and very cool. Wish I had that kind of nerve.

And here you can see the man in action. Or just go to Banksy.co.uk and see what there is to see.

Let Me Take A Moment to Geek Out

Yesterday Andy and I went to play in the RPGA Living Greyhawk game. It's Dungeons and Dragons. I just have to complain for a minute about the game and it's going to be really geeky, so bare with me.

First off, nothing happened!! A guy dissapeared and there was no way to track him and yet the group my character was with had to track him because we are good guys like that. There are no clues. No one's seen or heard anything. Great. But there is this mysterious forbodding fog that rolls into town evry night and oh, undead creatures wander the streets at night. Fine. Kill, hack, slash, but we still can FIND the guy we need to find!

And there's this old Sage, he's a plot device. We pay him gold to give us information. Except the sage fails his knowledge roll and doesn't know anything to tell us. But he needs to give us information so the fucking game and move forward. Plot Devices should not be giving the opportunity to fail a roll!! The very nature of a plot device is that it is so important the story hangs on it and it must happen, pulling the characters and story forward with it. But the plot device last night just sat around and scratched his wizzened old sage bottom and said, "Gee, I am a learned man, but even I do not understand what is happening." Fuck!

And then there were vampires. Vampires at a table with the average playing level of 2! That's the beginningers tables. We were the equivilant of kids with cooking pots on their heads and sharp sticks. We can't stand up to a vampire, it's kill us all and have time to do in the rest of the city before dawn.

So we were pretty lucky that we couldn't find the vampire, even though we were literally right outside the secret crypt "searching" for the vampire but we were too thick to find it. If we had found the cryp, all the characters would be dead. It's unreasonable to expect first and second levels characters to battle a vampire.

So, the game module last night sucked. It was broken.Too much hinged on a plot device that was allowed to fail and if it had worked, we would have died. Damn, sometimes D&D really sucks.

The Geek Out is now over. Sorry to bother you. I wentot bed super pissed last night, dreamed about trying to find an invisible vampire in a big city, and then work up all pissed that I dreamed about the horrible game.

Opera Tuesday

This morning I declared the day Opera Tuesday. No reason, just felt like singing. So Andy and I sing as we prepare for the day.

"You must, you must, take the garbage out! It's smelly, it's stinky, it's really whiffy...." I implore through song, pointing to the trash bag.

At this point Andy sang in the squeaky voice we both agree is "the cat." "Not my trash! It's delicious and smells of last night's chicken..."

Mozart it aint but it's ridiculously fun.

Outside, still singing, our neighbor So walks up and sings "Good Morning! Why are we singing!"

I love So. He's good natured in a befuddled sort of way.

And I can't help but laugh at the power of Opera Tuesday. It' contagious.

The Power of the Jello Cake Compels You

At a client's house this afternoon, a Russian couple, and they offered me tea. "Sure," I says. An offero f tea is never tea lone, it is always cake and chocolates, etc. Always too much food but I've tried to decline politely. Every time, "May-lissa, are you sure you do not want tea or coffee?" Not once they ask but many times. To save everyone a lot of effort, I take the tea.

So I had the tea. And then Mrs. X (for legal reasons) brought out this cake. It was...how do I put it? Covered in orange jello.

The anatomy of the cake: First was the inner core of sponge cake, possibly lady finers. Then a layer of custard.This was covered it a hard layer of something crunchy. Best as I can tell, it was crystalized sugar. Then was another layer of custard. More of the crunchy suger. Over all of this was bright pink dreamwhip (a cross between pudding and whipping cream). On top of this was a layer of red jello, in which blackberries, rasberries, and kiwi slices were petrified. Over the entire creation was yellow jello. It is a terrible and awe inspiring sight to behold.

"No one will believe me about this cake," I said.

"Do you like? Our son brought it from New York, from a Russian bakery called Kiev." I didn't point out that Kiev was in the Ukraine, I was to over whelmed by the power of the jello cake.

I couldn't eat the entire slice. Who could? I've never had so much sugar before. So Mrs. X insisted she box it up and I take it home. Now it's staring at me on the computer desk. The thing is so sugary it makes my teeth hurt.

Satruday Chatting

Sorry, sorry sorry I missed the chat Jenny wanted to organize this afternoon. I had to pick up my car the mechanic: oil change and fixing the passenger mirror that wouldn't move when I used the control on the driver's door. Stupid mirror. Took them all day to "reconnect" something. And we got your taxes done this morning. Andy and I owe the Federal government a good chunk of change (because he got a raise and you never think that you'll pay more money on a raise but you do and it sucks.) We owed the Commonwealth a buck and that pissed me off the most, having to write a check for a dollar.

Anyway, got back a 2.30 and both Omouse and Athene seemed to be offline. Did I miss the conversation? Is it over? Did you two just say fuck it and throw in the towel? I'm sorry was late.

Damn! I love this show!

So did anyone beside me watch Lost on Wednesday night? No? You're missing out. I'm am infatuated with the show.

During the show, Andy was playing on the computer and I would rush in during commercial breaks and shout out what was happening. "Hurley won the lottery!" Or "Ohmygod!The numbers are cursed!" Or "The French Woman heard the numbers on a transmission and thought it was a distress signal. That's how she ended up on the island! The numbers are cursed!"

Thursday morning I was bubbling over with excitement and wanted to talk about the show. And absolutely no one cared. I can't stand it! This is the best show ever (since the end of the X-Files at least) and I have not been so excited about a show since the good seasons of X-Files.

Feeling better now

I crawl out of bed this morning only to findAndy in front of the playstation, exactly where i left him last night. "Well, if it isn't Mister Stay Up Until 5 in the Morning." Which i knew he did because I could see the lights were on every time I rolled over to cough or blow my nose.

"I see your sarcasm's working. You must be feeling better."

And I am but playing video games is abot as much as I can tolerate today. Playing Civilaztion III this morning I got my ass handed to me by the French. The French! How embaressing is that?

Sick

Upper respiratory infection., no energy to talk now.

Superman, Batman and Spiderman Attack

Superman, Batman, and Spiderman assulated some guy in Canterbury at a buger van by the bus (?) station. What the hell?

Part of me longs deeply to stick this into Canterbury because clearly Al was dressed as Batman and said, "What do you mean you're out of bloomin' beef patties? It's a burger van!" Or something like that.

And I'm still jazzed about a villa in Italy.

Happy Valentine's Day

Happy happy Valentine's day. Andy has the flu so no romantic dinners and pasionate kisses, just a trail of used tissues about the apartment.

Just got word, Melanie and Lee will be visiting our fair city sometime in June. Maybe I can talk them into Memorial day, so we get a nice long weekend. Hmm. Melanie wanted to go to Ithica, New York because it's home to the Moosewood Cafe (very famous cookbook). yeah, it's 230 miles and 4 hours of driving. Nope. We'll see the shore and the Liberty Bell and take a Stephanie Plum (also a book) tour of scenic Trenton, New Jersey. Very cool.

Those Lucky Shoes

You can't tell me those shoes are not lucky. I know I've referred to the black patent leather mary janes with the kitten heel as enchanted...and I stand by my words.

Last night was Andy's company's holiday party. And yes, it is late, but it is also four days before Chinese New Year and the most of the comapny is Chinese. So, "holiday" in a generic sense. By freak coincidence, it was also Andy's birthday. He's 41. (How old is that?!)

After a nice dinner and polite chit-chat with people I only vaguely remember from the company picnic, I hit the casino with the Nexmed "money" we got at the door. 500 Dr. Mo dollars. Sweet. And an open bar. Hello, Cosmopolitans. (That is directly the influence of Clare.)

First I tried my hand at Texas Hold 'em poker. I wasn't doing bad. Then I got a Royal Straight Flush. All diamonds. All face cards, all in order. It was a thing of beauty. A hand you only see once in a lifetime., as everyone at the party would tell me as the evening wore on. After that hand, I walked away with as moest profit. The cards were not going to get better for me.

Then I hit the roulette tables. It's amazing what flirting with the dealer and hitting a direct number will do. I walked away at the end with $6000. I was on fire! People were coming up to Andy and saying, "Take her to Atlantic City." Or "Go buy a lottery ticket right now."

I was having a good night. No one else came close so I was the top winner of the evening. Now, I deffinately won a $50 visa gift card,. As the top winner I also win a $100 gift card. I think these are combined together. Andy thinks it's one or the other, because his company is cheap. None the less, my $6000 Dr. Mo's have been turned into a very real $100 or, hopefully, a $150.

All in all, I had a great time at the holiday party/Andy's birthday. I blame the lucky shoes.

The Secret Ingredient is Fire

Did you ever have a moment where you were so embaresed you whishedyou could just sink through the floor and simultaniously erase everyone's memory? Yeah, that happened to me at work today.

So I had a little bowl of raman nooodles. Add water, microwave, and *poof* delicious noodles. I peeled back the paper lid, added water, and set the timer for three minutes.

50 second later there's sparking and Stephanie says ever so calmly, "You lunch is on fire."

What! Sure enough, the paper lid is in flames. Apparently the paper lid was not paper but was lined with foil.

"I don't understand," I said.

"Well, maybe if you didn't put foil in the microwave, it ouldn't catch fire."

But it's the same brand I've always used and I made the noodle bowl exactly the same way I've always made it. It just does not make any sense as to why it would catch fire now.

Simpathetic co-workers offered me the polite out that perhaps the company had changed the packaging. I more than eagerly agreed. Yeah, stupid packaging!

So I scrubbed the soot out of the microwave, offered to buy a new one if the machine was broken, and ate the noodles. I was straving! And it was way too cold to walk up the street for a hoagie. Desperate, I ate the charcol noodles. And you knowwhat, they were delicious! The best noodles ever. Apparently, the secret ingredient is fire.

I Gots a Snow Day!

All Philadelphia schools are closed so I get the day off! *Victory Dance*

I knew last nigh I wasn't going in, there's a foot of snow completely surounding my car. Can't go anywhere. But it's nice that I don't have to call in to work and explain. And last night Andy and I agreed, I repeated, agreed, that we would spend the day at home. A foot of snow. Stay home.

He was outside shoveling the cars out at 5 am this morning. Punk. We agreed! Apparently "agreed" only means he'll wait until I'm asleep to do what he wants. So Andy's at work now while I'm toasty warm and still in my jim jams. Poor Natalie had to go to work today and Delmar was actually on his way over to dig our cars out. I am astounded by this act of kidness. I would have never presumed to ask and it really caught me off guard.

Snow days really are the best days off. Now, I have a busy schedule of playing computer games and putting music on the MP3, whose name is Thelonius Monk. I can to me last night as I ripped a jazz cd. Those games won't play themselves...

Still Snowing

My post this morning at at 11, there abouts. It's after five now and it's still snowing.

There's a kid out in the courtyard making a snow fort. Well, the kid is knee deep in snow, his tonka truck completely buried, and he's crawling around on his stomach. I thik he's making a snow fort. Hard to tell.

According to the Weather Channel, it'll snow until Sunday, leaving us with 12 inches of the white stuff.

To celebrate, I made a chicken soup. Yummy.

It's a Blizzard

Part of the Jolly Roger "Got to Get it Fixed Right Now" crisis is that fact that the Northeast is expect about a foot of snow to arrive this morning. Andy and I were at Circuit City at 9 a.m., not knowing the store opened at ten. Got to beat the snow storm.

By the time we made our purchases and were on the way home, the light flurries really picked up the pace and the meterological situation could be described as snowing. Now it's snowing like crazy. Twelve iches of snow give or take a few is expected. We'll be cocooned inside the apartment all weekend. I'll be playing computer games.

Baby's Got a Brand New Box!

The new computer arrived last night via the Watkins (who not only put together and installed the machine, but they make deliveries!) And after playing around with it qay past my bed time last night, I can honestly say the Jolly Roger is too much computer for me. It's too powerful. I'm in awe and a little afraid of opening programs least I totally fuck something up.

But in the vein of totally fucking up: we (the Jolly Roger and I) had our first crisis last night. Somehow, and this is only speculation on what actually happened, while I was playing Civ III, an omnimous blue screen popped up and warned that I only had 5 minutes of battery power left. The battery? But the dang machine's plugged into the UPS, the power source. Fuck.

I close the program. Then the whole machine just turns off. And then a high pitched beeeeeeeeeep. It's coming from the UPS. Anxious and really not wanting to wake up the neighbors at midnight with my lack of geek-fu, I grab the UPS and start unplugging, trying to turn it off.

Silence. Something happened.

I turn it on the power button. I suspect that it had been turned off accidently earlier in the evening. The UPS, in addition to being more than a surge protector, is also a battery and can provide a little bit of juice if even the lights go out.

I plug stuff back in. Except for the modem cord that goes from the box to the UPS. The little plastic thing broke in my haste. Oh fuck. Won't go back in, just keeps falling out.

I reassemble the UPS. Everything's fine except no modem connection, no internet.

But this story has a happy ending. Andy and I take the broken cord to Circuit City and by a replacement. We by a new cord, I install, and see how I type on the internet via the new cord! The first crisis with the Jolly Roger resolved. Now it's my computer. I already broke it. :) And then fixed it. *Mel all puffed up with pride*

Katamari Damacy

I spent yesterday playing the most addictive game ever: Katamari Damacy. The basic story is the King of the Cosmos went on a drunken bender and destroyed all the stars. So it's up to his son, a little green dude, to go to the bother of rolling up things on Earth to use as star stuff. To do this, you use a strange ball that stuff sticks too and the more you roll, the bigger the ball gets and the more stuff you can pick up.

It's very cool. The art, the music...It's all so strange, it's brilliant. And there really is nothing like rolling over a cat and a seeing it's little legs thrash about as the ball rolls. Supposedly, in the higher levels, the ball gets so big you can pick up buildings and even Godzilla. Cool. "Earth certainly is full of things," as the King of the Cosmos says.

Mel Enters the Digital Age

Tremendous news! I, she of old technology, Super Nintendo nostalgia and acient laptop, have purchased a blazing new computer and, most importantly, and MP3 player. I know. Can you believe it?

The computer is a custom build job, which Delmar and Natalie have graciously offered to do. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Of course, I have to be there to "learn" so I won't be so backwards when it comes to spiffing technology. It's got a fast processor (2.9 ghz *sigh*), a kick ass video card for the money, and, most importantly, a scary case. Black and red with this disturbing red glow from the inside. It's tough. If you met my computer in a dark alley, it'll beat you up, take your money and possibly steal all your data.

Ian is going wireless and will be updated to Windows 98 SE so he can suport jumpdrives and not be so tediously redunant. Natalie gave him a physical on Sunday, accessing his wireless apptitude. Apparently, given his age, he's a miracle. Hardly any bad patches on the hard drive and not as slow as I seem to think he is. But I an rather finicky. I want instant! Can't be bothered to wait 15-20 seconds for a program to open.

The MP3 player comes directly from Mom and Gran's Walmart gift cards. Thank you lots. It's not an iPod but I ain't got that kind of money. I also took my chances with the Belkin Tunecast II so I can listen in my car. The reviews ran hot and cold. Either they sucked outright or people loved them. But the reviews from this area seemed favorable so I'll keep my fingers crossed.

The MP3 should be here by the weekend. The computer is shipping as I type. Hopefully it'll be costructed over the weekend. Andy and I puchased a laser printer last month, so I'm good in the printer department. The only thing left on my list is a digital camera. Cool. I like being updated.

How long does it take for a man to revert to bachelorhood?

Good question. This week, I've been struggling with a cold and taking so much de-congestant I can't feel my toes. In an effort to get better, I went straight to bed when I got home from work.

I woke around 7, hungry and sleepy.

Andy was sitting on the couch in a natty old tee shirt and eating macaroni right out of the pan.

"What are you doing?"

"I didn't want to get a plate dirty."

Honestly. It took me not making dinner for one night for that man to revert to bachelorhood. I'm lucky he didn't paint his face and speak in a made up language only other savage men could understand.

It was pretty funny.

And I'm feeling better now. Just a little crappy.

Count Every Vote

I found this lovely message in my mailbox this morning:

No American citizen should wake up the morning after the election and worry their vote wasn't counted. No citizen should be denied at the polls if they are eligible to vote. And, as the greatest, wealthiest nation on earth, our citizens should never be forced to vote on old, unaccountable and non transparent voting machines from companies controlled by partisan activists.

Tomorrow, members of Congress will meet to certify the results of the 2004 presidential election. I will not be taking part in a formal protest of the Ohio Electors.

Despite widespread reports of irregularities, questionable practices by some election officials and instances of lawful voters being denied the right to vote, our legal teams on the ground have found no evidence that would change the outcome of the election.

But, that does not mean we should abandon our commitment to addressing those problems that happened in Ohio. We must act today to make sure they never happen again.

I urge you to join me in using this occasion to highlight our demand that Congress commit itself this year to reforming the electoral system. A Presidential election is a national federal election but we have different standards in different states for casting and counting votes. We need a national federal standard to solve the problems that occurred in the 2004 election. I will propose legislation to help achieve this.

Florida 2000 was a wake up call. But the Republicans who control Congress ignored it. Will they now ignore what happened in 2004?

There are nearly 3,000,000 of you receiving this email. We accomplished so much together during the campaign. Now let's use our power to make sure that at least one good thing comes from the voting rights problems of the 2004 election. If we want to force real action on election reform, we've got to demand that congressional leaders hold full hearings. Make sure they hear from you and help hold them accountable.

Speaker Dennis Hastert: 1-202-225-0600
Leader Bill Frist: 1-202-224-3135

And please report that you've made your call right here: http://www.johnkerry.com/signup/electoral_reform.php

I want every vote counted because Americans have to know that the votes they stood in line for, fought for, and strived so hard to cast in an election, are counted. We must make sure there are no questions or doubts in future elections. It's critical to our democracy that we investigate and act to prevent voting irregularities and voter intimidation across the country. We can't stand still as Congressional leaders seek to sweep well-founded voter concerns under the rug.
Please join with me in calling Speaker Hastert and Leader Frist and telling them that you want action on election reform now.

A recent report from Representative John Conyers (D-Michigan) reveals very troubling questions that have not yet been answered by Ohio election officials. I commend the Democratic National Committee for its announcement this week that the DNC will be investing resources and reaching out to non-partisan academics in a long term study of Ohio voting irregularities. I am only sorry that we haven't seen the same from Ohio Secretary of State Blackwell and GOP officials.

Congress must play a positive, proactive role on this issue. That's why I will soon introduce legislation to reform our election system, ensuring transparency and accountability in our voting system and that all Americans have an opportunity to vote and have their vote counted.
Please remember to let us know that you made your call when you're done. We're hoping to ensure House and Senate leaders' offices hear our demand for action on election reform in meaningful way. Please take a moment to let us know you have made your call here: http://www.johnkerry.com/signup/electoral_reform.php

Thank you,

John Kerry

I believe it does not matter which side of the political fence you align yourself with or whom you voted for, but I do believe that your vote should be counted. The fact that there are votes in Ohio that were not counted is troubling. And I also think federal elections reform are needed. (Why can't we vote on paper like the rest of the world? Traceable, re-countable, simplistic paper?)

Every vote should count. Please call. It's important.

It was an smacksident!

Last night, or sometime in the dark hours of the morning, I'm trying to sleep in an enjoy the holiday. The cat is doing his best to lick every inch of Andy's face and Andy is struggling. By struggling, I mean keeping perfectly still and whimpering but not doing a thing to defend himself against the cat. Fairly unhapply about being woken, I lean over, spy something round and furry, and smack it.

It was Andy's head. The cat, knowing that it was meant to for him, took off like a rocket.

"I'm sorry!" I plea. "It was an accident!"

"Sure you are, just a little smacksident."