... I'm sure it's just a coincidence that in the last two months, I have twice caught this wretched Siberian death flu (this time followed by the Phlegm of the Undying Cold) shortly after visiting wee Robert the Bruce.

Or maybe it's just that he realizes that I'm secretly an English sympathizer and is infecting me on purpose. Damn his Scottish eyes.

a) One of the voices in the module on which I am working is so full of buttery delicious evil that I swoon in my chair every time I hear it. This is not good for my concentration.

b) SPN has finally won my heart. Thanks, Castiel!

c) Smallville has put Oliver Queen in the credits, so now I will be forced to watch the wretched thing all year. Pity me. But thanks to PVR technology, at least I won't have to watch any scene he's not in.

d) The costochondritis pain has subsided somewhat, thanks to the shiny drugs. The crazy dreams that accompany it have not, however. I bought the most amazing house in my dreams last night.

e) Carla made oil-popped popcorn last night with no butter, just salt. It was still really good. I think this will become a new staple.

f) Yarr.

Almost home time, and braindead, so a meme:

( Wizard )

I am all sadness today; my mom and dad are going to the Mamma Mia sing-along tonight, and I can't go because of crunch.

( death by chocolate is a myth )

Do you know what's better than an ABBA movie? An ABBA sing-along-movie, that's what!

http://www.mammamiamovie.com/

Now playing at South Edmonton Common. I am so in.

I am sad to hear that Stephenie Meyer has put her Edward book on hold indefinitely because some nimrod she trusted posted early versions of the chapters on the interweb.

I am really enjoying the Host.

Oh, yes, and I still love Ms. Aurora best of all.

Black Books; it's a British sitcom from the early aughts, set in an untidy bookstore in London. I particularly love the rumped misanothropist store own, Bernard Black.

It's fantastic. Here's a few lines:

"Don't make me sick into my own scorn."

"I thought you were homosexual."
"So did I, until I heard about the prohibitive standards of hygiene and all that dancing."

"Genetically speaking, you're a cul-de-sac."

"Half-ten? I've never been up at half-ten. What happens?"

I love this weather. It is windy and chill, the air crisp and bright. Autumn is coming.

In celebration, instead of wandering out with the witching wind, I spent yester eve indulging in one of my Victorian fantasies: curled up in a blanket on the sofa, candlelight flickering beside me, a cat purring on my lap, and a book in hand.

I didn't quite finish the book last night, but I stopped just in time - had I read further, I would have reached the 'revelations' section of the book, and would never have been able to put it down. And I can't sleep if I finish a book before bed. So I awoke early (dreaming fitfully of the story to come all through the night) and finished the book curled up in bed, with my plush chenille robe wrapped around my shoulders for warmth.

Everything I was hoping for from the book came to light in the end, so I was happy. While reading it, I had this terrible fear that Ms. Atwood would try to be literary and never offer the big reveal, instead letting her readers congratulate themselves on reading between the lines. But I like my words solidly in print, even if I was very clever and guessed everything very early on. So I was well pleased with this morning's literary sojourn.

And I even managed to get to work on time, and via bicycle.

I think I've done this before, but:

( I am not a unique snowflake )

From bethlet:

The rules of the meme:
1) bold those you have tried
2) strikethrough those you wouldn't eat on a bet.
2a) Italicize any item you'll never eat again.
2b) Asterisk any items you'd be interested in trying but have not yet.

( I need to talk this over with some food )

From omphaloskepsis, this doesn't sound much like me:

( Nature Meme )

Dear Summer:

We don't usually need to have conversations like this; usually your visits are brief, but pleasant, and I've always found you to be a temperate and considerate guest.

So I really have to ask, is everything okay? You've been bad-tempered and unruly, burning with hate without cessation. Have you started some new medication? Did you change the dose? Did you recently have an unpleasant break-up? Has someone offended you terribly? Was it me? If it was, please take my abject apology and whatever remuneration I can offer. If it was someone else, please, tell me who it was and I'll do my best either to have them killed or begging for mercy on their knees, as soon as humanly possible.

Please, let me help you. Anything, if it will get us through this bad patch and come out the other side. Because right now, I have to say, I'm longing for Winter's return, and I'd hate for us to leave things on such bad terms.

Your friend,
BinaryKitten

First, a few notes:

It is so hot out that I would swear there has been a nuclear holocaust somewhere and we just haven't been informed. The sun has this strange dry glow to it, the very air shimmers with dust and fury. I don't want to step outside; fortunately, it's not required today.

Adam disagrees. He thinks the dust cloud would be welcome shade at this point, and it's more likely that we're just tumbling into the sun, a la 'Last Night'.

We did, however, have a wonderful thunderstorm last night; I heard the growls even from the basement, and left Torchwood aside to go watch the lightning show until the violence of the rain drove me inside again. Helo was, as ever, unconcerned.

Wee Robert the Bruce /loves/ it when I sing to him. (Or when anyone sings to him, to be fair.) He stomps his little foot, and kicks about, and grins and giggles like nobody's business. This bodes well, as I love to sing, and an appreciative 4-month-old audience is the best kind.

( there's just one thing I need )

As it's been a while: ( What D&D character am I? )

So, before lunch, I had a headache that hurt so much it made me woozy and unable to concentrate, so I took some meds that made me woozy and unable to concentrate. Of course, I wasn't also in pain, so that was a bonus, but the productivity difference was small. A nap at lunch took care of both problems, thankfully.

I adore Stuff White People Like. Is that impossibly self-referential? Also, if you can believe it, people actually troll the blog, usually just proving the author's point.