jerry-rig my soul

If you should choose to share this, (I am flattered and) please don't attribute it! I don't want it to be mine. I want it to belong to everyone who feels this way.

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I Thought You Meant It

I have friends of different races because when you taught me not to judge people based on how they look, I thought you meant it.

I respect other people's religious beliefs because when you taught me that a person's religion is between them and God, I thought you meant it.

I believe in universal health care and social assistance because when you taught me to be kind to those less fortunate than myself, and when you taught me that people are more important than money, I thought you meant it.

I support equal marriage rights for gay and lesbian couples because when you taught me that every person has the same human worth (and also to keep my nose out of other people's business), I thought you meant it.

I am environmentally conscious because when you taught me to take no more than I need, and to clean up after myself if I make a mess, I thought you meant it.

I support reproductive rights because when you taught me I shouldn't judge someone when I don't know what their circumstances are, I thought you meant it.

I am dismayed that you would call someone "elitist" merely because they are educated -- because when I became one of the first people in our family to earn a college degree, and you told me how proud I'd made you, I thought you meant it.

I am not ashamed if these things make me a liberal, because you taught me not to let other people belittle me about what I stand for, and I choose to believe you meant it.

Went to Retreat. Am back from Retreat. Am extremely tired. Am unable to catch up with LJ. Am nearly unable to keep eyes open. Anything I should know about? Anything you want me to know about? Anything you want to know?

Since imeem is being a goofball, I have all three of my complete hymns on a Myspace page.

There was a time I hoped to be famous. Now I think I'll be happy if, after I'm gone, my co-religionists are still singing Purification 13 (also known as Shemem's Bast Song), of which I have a spiffy new recording with vocals and drums!

I'm also working on a happy death song!

Just in time for Solstice, a new version of Lady of Gold. (And thanks to aboxofeyes for leading me to discover imeem.)

I told you I wasn't seeing things!

Some of you may remember that I've reported an Egyptian god sighting twice when traveling by Amtrak between Shreveport and St. Louis: a painting on an upright structure to the west of a creek running along the tracks. I'd only gotten a glimpse, not even enough to say for sure which god it was. But it really stood out, especially considering I was traveling through a part of Missouri that was all trees, cows, and dilapidated trailers.

I've never been able to find anything on the Internet to support my sighting. I almost wondered if I'd imagined it, except I'd asked my Mom to watch for it on her trip up and she did see it.

This afternoon, we drove out to the area I had narrowed down to being the location of said image and, after a couple of false starts and a long and uncomfortable walk along the train track, we found it!

And the god depicted in the Middle of Nowhere, Missouri is ... ( Djehuty! )

The structure appears to be part of a never-finished bridge, or a structural support, or something. Someone apparently noticed its resemblance to an Egyptian pylon and decorated it accordingly. The blue is obviously spray-painted, and we noticed other graffiti in the area -- "Mike loves (girl's name)" and "By Mike Wite"(?) -- of the same hue. The other colors appear painted with more traditional means. Sesha, like a good scribe, attempted to record the nearly-illegible accompanying glyphs for further study.

Much remains mysterious about the image. For example, is Djehuty holding out a much-faded offering, or is that the God of Writing with a can of spray paint??

ETA: My current theory: Someone (perhaps the mysterious "Mike") sees a parallel between his graffiti and a culture who regularly painted words on walls?

I am so in the wrong line of work.

This one has more than 20 bids on it. Evidentally there are some folks out there who think this is a bargain.

And these are just ones people have bid on so far. The starting price for this one is almost as much as the price of my parents' house.

(Plus shipping.)

This is the same planet where there are people so desperate for something to put in their stomachs they are eating dirt.

Perhaps I should clarify; I am not trying to say that people who don't have to worry about whether they'll get to eat tomorrow should feel bad about it, nor am I saying people shouldn't have nice things that they enjoy. I am saying that it is goofy to ask for or spend thousands of dollars on a piddly purse when the only reason it costs that much is this idea of "fashion." The only victim in this is the crocodile, as far as I know, though a sweatshop connection would not surprise me.

The difference in perspective between someone buying a bag that costs as much as my parents' house and someone else not being able to afford a spoonful of rice leaves me skewy-eyed. It is much like the time Oprah was doing a show about the thousands of children who are kidnapped into slavery and prostitution in Africa every year that we never hear about, and during the broadcast a news ticker scrolled across the bottom of the screen announcing that Elizabeth Smart had been recovered safe and sound. Absolutely wonderful; but why is her welfare more worthy of notice?



*Trick question. These people don't ride on buses.

So in Silver-Eyes, I've long had the elf name of the island be Thassalah, and their own name for themselves, "Thassen". However, it has come to my attention that "Thassalah" is very similar to a number of real-world names of things, including a couple of place names, so I'm thinking of changing it. I don't want to change it too much, though, because I really like the sound of the word. Right now I'm thinking of "Vassalah"/"Vassen."

Thoughts?

Oh, yeah, I'm working on Silver-Eyes again. As I was 15 when I started writing it, and it's been 15 years since then, I thought this might be the year I actually finish it. Maybe. Right now I'm trying to complete the album it inspired.

Edit: Okay, I'm convinced. I really like it a lot better with the "Th" too. :)

So Smithmag is doing a project where you are invited to write a six-word memoir. The amount that can be said in six-words is pretty amazing; many of the entries are funny or very touching. (Of course, there's also the required amount of "so...the...thing...that...is...supposed...to count words can be fooled" and "I thought of six more words.") If you see mine, it may sound familiar. :)

This guy buys old cameras that still have film in them and develops it. The people in many of the photos are certainly gone by now. His site is kind of like an online akhu shrine. The commentary varies from glurgy poetry, to hilarious, to thought-provoking (so it's kind of like reading my LJ ;) ).

I worked at a different branch today. Ran into a reference lady who sometimes fills in at my usual branch. She told me, "I was reading a book and it made me think of you!" The book? The Humble Little Condom.




Evidently her book had information on Egypt, and we'd talked about Egypt last time I'd seen her.

Yesterday I dug out my (musical) keyboard. It had lain beneath the bed for a long time. I was a lot out of practice. This made me kind of frustrated, but more sad. Still, it was good to play again instead of spending my whole night killing time with non-productive stuff. Perhaps I will even compose again soon.

I have thought about making a theme album telling the story of a person's journey into the afterlife, Egyptian style. I wrote an opening song back in autumn, but unfortunately, it is rather tricky to sing, because what my head can come up with exceeds my voice's abilities.

Anyway, here are the words:

Where am I?
I cannot see or hear.
I cannot speak.
I cannot even breathe.
I feel like I am in
My mother's womb again.

Someone is here ...
He stands before me
But he feels so far away.
He opens my senses,
And he is gone.

I open my eyes.
I am standing by the river,
And the sun is setting on this side.
I am
In the West.

I remember now,
I remember now:
The beating of my heart;
The quiet of the dark.
The lady with the dark birds came,
And she called my name.
She smiled kindly;
She took my hands and whispered:
"Do not be afraid.
It is time to go."

Oh, also, does anyone know the glyphs for "zep tepi"? I feel like this is something I should know, but I don't.

As thanks for all the input I've been asking for, I have something for you: Brandon Bird. Mostly art of pop culture figures in absurd situations. Safe for work and very amusing. Don't miss the letters to Christopher Walken!

Multiple posts in one week, omg!

1) I'd like to start reading "for fun" again. I haven't read for fun except very sporadically since high school. In college I got eaten by classwork and workwork and just didn't have time. After college, I was working as a copy editor -- eight hours a day of mostly reading stuff, with little inclination to continue once home. I just never picked up the habit again.

Growing up, I read a lot of fantasy fiction. (Largely Dragonlance.) Anymore, in what may come as a shock to those who have read my own fiction, I don't seem to find the genre appealing, by and large. Though I like Neil Gaiman, so not all hope is lost. I think, honestly, my reticence is mostly due to the fact I don't read very quickly, so I want to be reasonably sure whatever I read will have been worth the time I invested in it.

So I'm looking for book recs, willing to peek at other genres, more than willing to read nonfiction, though I'm more of a "check out this interesting information!" than a "here's what I think, and why you should think it, too!" kinda gal. SO what has knocked your literary socks off lately?

2) I am also looking for cheese recs. Time and again, we will pick up an unfamiliar block of Cheddar, hoping in vain that this time, this time, it will actually be sharp, as claimed. I don't want no wimpy American-masquerading-as-Cheddar crap. I want Cheddar so sharp it makes me wince.

q) Totally unrelated to recs, I just wanted to mention that Henku's comment elsewhere in a conversation about "dark" gods such as Set and Yinepu to the effect of "there are jobs that have to be done, and someone's gotta do them" made me imagine a very unusual episode of Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe. "No, Mike Rowe, you may not handle the spear. Only I am strong enough to smite the uncreated. You man the oars!" (Set-In-My-Head uses people's full names and sounds like James Earl Jones. Or maybe Michael Dorn as Worf.)

So you know how you can buy frozen rats to feed to snakes? I dreamed I bought frozen rats to feed to my rats. Yeah. Apparently they were in need of protein, and I couldn't find anything else to feed them that wouldn't make them cannibals. So in my dream I put this frozen rat in their cage, note that they are eating him, and leave the room because, dude, I just made my rats cannibals and don't want to watch. In the dream, evidently I have done this before because I was remembering what a pain in the butt it was to clean up the bones "last time."

I come back a while later, and the feeder rat has unfrozen and come back to life. He looks none the worse for wear, and he's getting along just fine with my two rats. My main concern at this point is getting him out of the cage before he breeds with one of them. Complications ensue.

You know, it used to be that when I dreamed about pets, I just dreamed about what an utter failure I am at keeping fish alive. It was so much simpler then.

If I were to tell you that you were about to meet Texas's foremost expert on vampires, what sort of person would you envision?

Today I was checking in returned items at the library and came across John Denver & The Muppets: A Christmas Together, which I used to own on vinyl ... when I was, oh, about four. It was an old Christmas (and not-Christmas) custom for me and my mom to listen and sing along. Of course, I had to take the CD home. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it.

"Now bring us some figgy pudding --"
"PIGGY pudding???"
"No, figgy pudding. It's made with figs."
"Oh, sorry."
"And bacon."
"WHAT??!"

Also, I'm not afraid to admit "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" makes me a little teary.

The next installment of We Poor Shadows is up, in which you get a peek into everyone's Thanksgiving events.

I would just like to point out that if you are current with WPS, then you have encountered the party who murdered Dr. Francis. BWAHAHA.

Quick! I need ideas for an ambitious and decidedly NOT healthy holiday meal (such as the recently passed Thanksgiving). (This is for fiction, not real life.) What dishes should I include? I have already thought of turducken, and a couple of innocent vegetables corrupted by being cooked in pork fat.

With mere minutes to spare, the next installment of We Poor Shadows is up on time!

I did a little something different with the illustrations this time. Let me know what you think. :)

The next installment of We Poor Shadows is up!

Please share the link to WPS with anyone who might enjoy the story. :)

I think religion is like art. Art doesn't have to explain itself to science, and science doesn't have to explain itself to art. Sometimes art and science intersect, and you get some pretty amazing things. One can embrace them both as different, but both true, ways of describing existance.

I am perfectly comfortable with 1) believing in evolution and 2) believing the walking stick insect is evidence of God's sense of humor! ;)

You can read the first part of We Poor Shadows at http://wepoorshadows.net. And if you enjoy it, send your friends. :)

I will be launching We Poor Shadows on Tuesday. In the meantime, here's the start page.

I'm doing it.

I'm serializing We Poor Shadows, to be released weekly beginning in November, probably on Tuesdays. Which means I need to get to work on writing more of the story in order.

And if I don't, kick my butt until I do!

I will also looking for one or more artists to do illustrations. I'll probably only need one illustration per installment. I don't know how many installments it will be. There's not going to be any money made off this, for artists or for me -- just exposure gained and/or a fun thing to do.

I've started keeping tabs on my becoming-healthier plan* at back_to_venus.

*It's a "becoming-healthier" plan rather than a "weight-loss" plan because losing weight is only part of the goal.

So supposing one had a need to know approximately how long it would take to sail in a typical 17th-century vessel from Spain to the Caribbean, how would one go about finding that out? Any ideas?

Hi to A., my friend and former co-worker, who said she wanted to see my journal. :)

So, if you worked in a jewelry shop, and someone who didn't work there came in without a word, walked behind the counter, took the keys, opened the display case, turned invisible, and began rummaging through rings, would you say that was just a tad suspicious and you felt justified in keeping a close step behind? (The rings she stacked on her finger didn't turn invisible, so she wasn't that hard to follow. She claimed she was innocent of any intended wrongdoing, that she simply wanted a closer look.)

"You would prosper in the field of wacky inventions." :D

Also! My aunt had her baby via C-section yesterday. Cousin #18 is a boy.

Also also, the Louisiana State Treasurer found unclaimed money of mine. It's not a huge amount, but it's a nice surprise.

subtitled: Caution: I'm making fun of myself here as much as anyone else.

We all write Intarweb poetry
We all spurtle electronically on the page
Trying to express things
That may well have no words!

Stanza, meter, rhythm, rhyme - bah!
Punctuation be damned! Unless it's exclaimation points!
Who needs guidelines?
If it's not written into normal sentences
Without random breaks
For no apparent reason
Or the ocassional long line, standing out like a self-conscious, gangly kid wishing he didn't tower so over the rest of the class,
It's poetry.
And poetry should never, ever be edited
Or take more than five minutes to write

We all write Intarweb poetry
Sometimes we recall some vague memory
About the effective use of repetition
We all write Intarweb poetry
But we sure as hell wouldn't read it!

I've begun making smoothies with vanilla yogurt, milk and various fruit and fruit juices. I'm pondering what besides lychees would be good for a lychee smoothie. I'm also game for other smoothie suggestions. So far I've been working mostly with bananas, blueberries, mango, and juices of pear, orange, pineapple and lime.

Anyone have any idea how one might go about finding out if any state has a standing law on the books, unenforced though it may be, regarding witches or witchcraft?

(I'm not planning on bringing any charges against anyone, I just had a story idea.)

It's 4:30 a.m. Why am I posting at 4:30 a.m.? Because I was playing Anarchy Online. The amount of enjoyment I got from it doesn't really justify how much time I spent trying it out today. This is why I quit WoW.

We were going to have dim sum for lunch, until we found out it was just going to be the two of us. It's not nearly as much fun as when there's a bunch of people to share with. So we went to Qdoba instead.

We then went to the St. Louis Science Center to see the baby mummy they have just put on exhibit. They apparently don't know his name. In my head I'm calling him Khered, which just means "child," but it's better than nothing.

Going to bed now.

*There are some places where they call lunch dinner, and the third meal of the day is always called supper.

The weather is beautiful, and the tornado siren is going off. What gives? Weather.com is not confirming a need for alarm...

ETA: Got a message in the staff e-mail about international travel opportunities. It begins: "The French lady, (name removed by the Shemem) is again going to take a small group to Southern France and Northern Spain by van next month--April 20-29th."

I bet it takes some doing to get to France by van! ;)

Further, it says: "Also, KL patron (name removed by the Shemem), who is an expert on Egypt (and Greece) and has led trips for the Passport group for many years, as well as having lived in Egypt for a number of years, is going to take a group of 15 people to Egypt for 11 days, Oct. 15-Oct. 25th. It will be a wonderful, inclusive trip featuring the best of Cairo, Abu Simbel, Luxor, Valleys of the Kings and Queens, etc. The trip will cost $4,821 including round trip air from St. Louis."

If only I had a spare $5000 lying around -- but then I'd rather go with my co-religionist peeps anyway. :) Still, it was interesting to find out someone I've waited on at the library leads Egyptian tours.

Why onions for Bast?

In the Daily Devotion for Onion Day 2001, Hemet links to this article on onion history. I'm not sure if everything in the article is absolutely so, but I don't think Hemet would have linked to it if it weren't more or less accurate. Here's some of what it points out about the position of the onion in Ancient Egyptian society:

( They didn't think it was just a common, stinky vegetable. )

So now that we see why the onion was not thought of as just a common, stinky vegetable, we move on to: why are they for Bast, in particular? In last year's Onion Day DD, Hemet says: "Today's Bast festival was a famous one in antiquity for encouraging both fertility and creativity as well as protection: sweet onions were offered and eaten in festivals honoring the goddess, to recall the shape of the sun."

In the 2004 DD for this festival, Hemet also mentions another factor: "Onions in particular are sacred to the Eye of Ra, the sweet large yellow onions that remind one of the sun (and that produce tears (reme) the symbol of mankind (remetj))."

And it is my thought that the very fact that onions invoke the senses of taste and smell so vividly has something to do with it as well. I believe part of what Bast is "about" is the experience of life, the feeling of it both emotionally and physically. "Stopping to smell the chocolate," among other things. I think She wants us to make the most of the fact that we live in a physical world where we have so many opportunities to enjoy the things we can feel/sense -- everything from rain on our faces to the colors of flowers to incense to cheese to music to hugs. I think She is very eager for us to live rather than merely exist. I think She wants us to communicate and connect and express and create. And I think all these things are related.

And I think that's why we chew onions for Bast.

My mother doesn't believe there is a Day of Chewing Onions for Bast. She thinks I made it up to pull her leg. (The link goes to a Daily Devotion on last year's DoCOfB. It happens to fall on the 8th again this year.)

I have probably mentioned that I intend to publish We Poor Shadows (the story with the mad scientists and the wizards and the fairies and the college students) as a serial. As I continue to work at it, I'm tweaking the dates so that the beginning of the story takes place this coming November. (It was originally set in 2002, which is when I started writing it.) Part of me wants to wait until November to start publishing it, while part of me is more impatient due to my excitement over the fact that I'm actually writing again.

But in any case, I want to be sure that once I start releasing segments of the story, I can continue releasing them weekly without interruption so as to not flake out on my readers. So far I have about four or five installments just about ready to go at any time. However, although I have been working on the story recently, I've been working on it out of order. (Such as the flashback bit I posted recently.) Unless I can consistently work on the story in order, I probably should wait until I have more installments ready before I begin release.

A bit of "prosetry" I wrote almost four years ago, reposted primarily for Nai, who likes my board sig, because I thought she might be interested to see what I paraphrased it from.

In The Sun
Ever we are between all worlds, between the inanimate and the dead, upon the earth, below the sky. Ever we cling to our place in the universe, held in the arms of the Sun.

Watched by the Eyes that see through space and atmosphere, seeing far down to the Earth. Watched and given light; we have only but to look up to see it. Watched and remembered, sorrows not overlooked.

"Where do I lay my heartbreak aside? Where do I cast my fear away? Where do I leave my anger to dissipate? Where do I find a balm to soothe the murderous pain of the heart? How can I hold fast to hope when there is nothing I can do?"

But there is...

There is, child, and you know it well. It is there, even when you cannot see it for the stormclouds in your soul. Even through the darkest of nights, you know it will always return. Though you are blind and deaf and cannot move, you will know it is there. Feel it on your face, over all your skin, feel it in your heart.

Stand in the Sun, or sit, or lie, and feel the beams surround you. Let the Sun's embrace remind you: I am always here; though you may not see or hear, I am always within you. Though the thorny roads before you seem impassable, know: you are always in the Sun.

(A flashback scene for We Poor Shadows. Hopefully, having never been kicked out by my folks nor treated as subhuman for non-heterosexuality, I haven't trivialized the experience.)

The door opened. Rachel's mother's face was white with rage. She never even asked a question. All she said, in a low and dangerous voice, was: "You have ten minutes to pack and then I never want to see you again! Ten minutes! I will not have this filth in my house!"

Amanda fled, flushed, eyes fixed to the ground. Not a word to Rachel.

The door closed. Rachel could hear her mother screaming at Amanda as the girl did her best to escape the house. For a moment, she sat on the bed, stunned. Surely her mother didn't really mean it. Surely she was not really being thrown out into the street by her own mother for nothing more than kissing another girl? She was only fifteen -- where would she go? But her mother never said things she didn't mean nor made idle threats.

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Two Witches

As I walked through the dew at the wood's edge,
I heard cries coming out of the village.
Was a lass on the square
Being pulled by her hair.
And the people declared, "She's a witch! She's a witch!"
The people declared, "She's a witch!"

They said she made the farm beasts fall down dead.
Brought storms; put ill thoughts into men's heads.
So the charge that they made
In this gruesome parade
Was that she'd made a pact with the devil, with the devil.
They said she'd made a pact with the devil.

But I knew she was never of our kind,
For I knew every sister who was mine.
I'd defend the goodwife,
Though I risk my own life.
I must tell them that she's not a witch, not a witch.
I must tell them that she's not a witch.

So I spoke to the folk, though I did fear:
"You are making a dreadful mistake here."
"Mischief is not our way,"
"And believe when I say,"
"That I never saw her 'neath the moon, neath the moon."
"No, she never has danced 'neath the moon."

They let her go but I went to jail,
To be hanged on the morn without fail.
Late this night, she saw me,
And she thanked me kindly:
"But I did make a pact with the devil, with the devil."
"Yes, I did make a pact with the devil."

So here I am, staying up late to finish listening to my Harry Potter audiobook, and the last track of the last disc is all skippy and incomprehensible. To people who don't take care of library audiobooks, I say "wklejroksjdofkdsfkdso."

A cute thing from the library today: apparently there's a Barbie version of "The Prince and the Pauper," although as it's Barbified it's "The Princess and the Pauper." The little girl who checked it out today, being of an age where she probably doesn't know the word "pauper," kept calling it "The Princess and the Pepper." I said that perhaps that should be the title of the Veggietales version.

I'm blaming a late-night combination of sausage omlette, Girl Scout cookie ice cream, and a Harry Potter audiobook for this one.

It all made sense at the time, despite having no segues. First I was on vacation in France with a guy -- I think it was sesha but I'm not sure. We left our hotel to change currency at a nearby business that I was told was a joke shop, though I never saw the merchandise. There were three other people in the place, a couple shopping and a guy who worked there, all three raised in the Caribbean from the sound of them. I was relieved to hear English-speakers. The man who worked in the shop cordially changed our money, and as he did so, I happened to see a wide assortment of coins he had collected, including some that were made up of multiple parts, such as a silver coin embedded in a gold ring. Seeing these coins somehow gave me a sudden jolt of insight about something -- what I have no idea. I seem to recall it had something to do with something Dumbledore said.

Next thing I know, I'm in some kind of craft that Mr. Spock (I don't even watch Star Trek!) is referring to as a "module," which has been nestled on the surface of a small moon as a sort of mini research station. In the module, along with myself and the aforementioned Vulcan, are three other people. I think it was one of those cases where a person in my dream at some point changes into someone else unnoticed. At some point, these three people were the protagonists from Pirates of the Caribbean.

This moon has Earth gravity and an atmosphere and weather and an abundance of wildlife. The walls of the module were mostly windows, so I had a great view of the wintery landscape and creatures I couldn't resist referring to as "moondogs." They looked like enormous wolves, with thick fur colored gray and white with a blue tinge and some kind of horns or antlers. There were probably a couple hundred of them milling around the clearing where we were stationed. I was overjoyed to see them and wanted to go out to see if they were friendly, but Spock reminded me sternly that these creatures were huge, numerous, not really wolves, and likely to see me as prey.

For some reason, the other three members of our team, who may or may not have been Jack, Will and Elizabeth by that point, were departing on another craft, while Spock and I were staying behind to wrap things up in the module. Somehow, I gave him the slip. Once outside, I found I did feel rather nervous about the moondogs after all, and managed to get past them as well. It was then that I found a small arrangement of concrete buildings, seemingly abandoned.

And then I found myself cornered by an unfriendly centaur. The really unusual thing about this centaur was that one side of her hair was short, while the other side was long and braided and she had a spiral horn growing out of the end of her hair. (Somehow I got the impression that the centaurs were terribly jealous of unicorns and their big, gleaming, straight forehead horns.) Along came a unicorn, who, despite the jealousy issue, was able to calm down the centaur a bit. The unicorn turned into a centaur-ish creature herself, though maintaining that beautiful horn. She led me into one of the concrete buildings, which seemed to be a small cafeteria where about a dozen human-looking people were waiting in line for breakfast. The unicorn determined that I should have a child for a guide around this place, and went to talk to the girl of about 8 whom she'd pointed out. I waited with the centaur, who had followed us in. She began talking to me in a confrontational manner, but I remained calm in my responses and eventually was able to turn the conversation to the topic of things she and I had in common.

And that's all I remember.

(Edited to add:) Except for the part that was back on Earth, where characters from MASH were worriedly discussing my disappearance from the module. Then there was Dumbledore saying something about how they should trust the choice I had made. I was viewing this, and I guess the dream-me heared it over a radio or something, because I radioed in to let them know I was going to come back, eventually.

We're back from a nice trip to Georgia. I'll be picking up my car in the morning and hopefully not having to berate the shop too much, because I still have to work that day and I'd rather be in a good mood.

I've skimmed back to where I posted saying we were leaving, but I admit I didn't read thoroughly. Anything I should know since I've been gone?

The Lancashire heeler looks an awful lot like my Toby the Mystery Dog ...

Man in his twenties from a wealthy merchant family. Victorianesque culture. Active, outgoing, jovial and friendly. Not unattractive. Treats servants and "lower class" people with kindness, but maintains the boundaries of the class system. Takes part in avian jousting. Yes, I said avian jousting. As in riding on giant birds, trying to knock down the other guy, like in the old video game.

Here are the names I am planning to choose from: Reuben, Jasper, Lawrence, Oscar, Harold, Edward, Lucas, Louie, Martin, Maxwell, George, Frank, Emmett or Oliver.

His younger sister, who is interested in inventing things, is going to be named either Winnifred or Matilda. I think. Or Lucinda. Lenora? Mildred? Millicent? *sigh*

I was going to get one rat and name her after Sunny Baudelaire, because both like to bite things. Instead I got two and named the other, fairly inventive one after Violet Baudelaire (as well as naming one Sunny).

So. Now I have rats. On to step two: world domination. With rats. Pictures when available. (Of the rats, not the world domination. You will be able to see that in your own backyard. Assuming you have a backyard. I mean, I don't have a backyard. There is some yard behind my apartment, but it's not mine -- I don't plant in it, cut the grass, wouldn't be permitted to fence it in, etc.)

And what should I write about for Nanowrimo ... (?)

sesha and I have a game where we combine movie titles, so the last one or two words of one title begins the next. Wanna play? You could use IMDB, but that'd take out half the fun. ;)


Con Air Force One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

An American Werewolf in London After Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil Dead Poets' Society (whew!)

Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle in the Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow Never Dies

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Maybe I should leave Thai cooking to the experts. Or even to Ninth Street Noodles (nee Nothing But Noodles), who doesn't quite go for authentic but still has yummy Thai-inspired stuff. I've made a few stabs at replicating pad thai, and a few of those attempts were palatible, if a bit more "interesting" than I'd hoped. Tonight's dinner experiment should have been pretty simple. I mean how can you screw up pineapple fried rice? Apparently, by playing a bit too loose with a recipe that was probably more complicated than it might have been. I should have just tried to imitate the PFR at Thai Kitchen. They practically put the recipe on the menu. However, I was a bit trepidatious about my first time using curry. I needn't have been. The curry (mixed with corriander and other stuff, the label reveals) we got is incredibly mild.

Oh well. At least sesha liked it.