Tuesday Morning Quarterback is BAACCCKKK!!

Yes, it's that time again, and the gridiron giants are bashing their preseason heads together. For those of you who don't have time to follow football properly but want to be able to understand what the guys are blathering about at the watercooler, we have the Tuesday Morning Quarterback. Gregg Easterbrook gives us a weekly breakdown of football follies and features over on ESPN's Page 2.

No, they didn't pay for this link. I just love TMQ and seeing it was back with us helped move this day a couple notches up the suck-o-meter and I wanted to share it with you. I can't put a perma-link up to them because they insist on not having a central page to find his articles outside of the Page 2 homepage and I'm not going there. I may be a geek, but I'm still a chick. ;)

The Centrist Papers....

What do we do, we "moderates"? We are reviled by both parties; anyone who is left of Rush Limbaugh is scathingly called the L-word, and anyone to the right of LaRouche is referred to as a neocon or worse. My favorite appellation applied is "RINO" or "Republican in Name Only". Seriously? In name only? Are they somehow faking conservative fiscal-leanings?

Oh dear! Lock up your daughters.

I have found that I am not the only person who has thought some of these thoughts. One of the nicest things about being a loosely defined collective without a defined platform is we don't have to nail the planks down quite so hard. There is room for more than one viewpoint. So, in the spirit of the great polemic political tract writers of our Revolutionary period, I will begin assembling some of the moderate-conservative thought floating around out there into one meaty tome. We'll call it "The Centrist Papers".

Tonight's installment is from Bill Whittle over at EjectEjectEject, and is entitled "Responsibility". Enjoy.

Going Back to Bed and Pulling Covers Over My Head

Maybe forever. I'm all in a welter. One of the people who I know from the Fray has been terminally ill for a long time. We had all sort of come to terms with it as best we could, and welcomed every post he did. His son has just posted that he is gone.

I know very little about him in real life. I don't know his real name for sure, only his posting handle. He moved to Florida a bit more than a year ago. He has a wife and at least two kids. But even though I know so little about his life, I feel like I knew him as a person very well. He was adept at sharing his thoughts and feelings, and could stagger you with a well placed thrust of wit.

On top of everything else, this has really taken the wind out of my sails. One foot in front of the other today. Working on subduing Mt. Washmore (great name for it Franklie) and not mangling the kids. And later, I'll mourn.

I just tried out Blog This! This is quite cool! As long as I'm not doing any template changes, this is absolutely great.

At any rate, I'll be back later with real content. ;)

Sniff, sniff, koff, koff...

MsZilla has been having a lovely time in the health department lately. In some respects, it's a good thing. I have been afraid that something like this would happen for a long time, and now that it finally has I know where and how my preparation for that was sufficient, and where it wasn't, and now I can take steps. It's almost a relief the shoe has dropped.

I ended up spending a night in the hospital. This concept has terrified me since the kids and I ended up on our own. What would I do? How would we handle things? I had put some things in place, but I wasn't sure what would really happen.

Well, now we've had our Hudson's Bay Start. If it was longer than one night, I would have to make some changes. But other than the fact that the kids are treating me like glass now, things went okay. I know that sounds silly, being upset because they have put on the white gloves. But I hate it when I worry them; skateZilla in particular was very scared.

But I'm home now. Hopefully tomorrow I can start eating normal food again. Still coughing and wheezing but non-contagious. I can't even go give this to our "favorite" vendor out of spite. I got back to work today, and damn do I have a lot to do to catch up. Oh well. No rest for the wicked. Not even the extremely wicked. ;)

It begins...

The dreaded First Day of School fast approaches. We must arm ourselves for the dread tasks that lie ahead. First, a trial of strength and endurance of epic proportions as we set off on our quest: School Shopping.

Seriously, we aren't going to pull a sword out of anything. We just have to pick up a few things. Come on! It'll be fun! Based on our previous experiences I took the time to write up a few things, just so you know the schedule and we are all on the same page. Take a look.

1. $16 for a pair of socks is right out. Especially since their only feature is a green line at the toe and some incomprehensible piece of corporate grafitti on the ankle. And doubly especially since you tuck these things down into your logo-drenched sneakers so people can't tell you are wearing socks and won't see the stupid grafitti anyways. Besides, for $16 a pair they had better include the answers to your first math test, and the package says these don't.



2. You do have opinions about these things. Exercise them. If you say "Whatever..." in THAT tone of voice when I ask you to choose between two items, I can guarantee that I will take whatever steps I can to pick the most heinous of the two.



3. I am NOT buying anything Harry-Knowles-brown. I know all about your friends telling you that naturals are the "hot" color, but they are idiots. You do realize that color plus denim blue makes you look like a geeky website. If you don't believe me, go to http://www.aintitcoolnews.com. This is most definately not a "hot" look. Besides, you're 12! "Hot" is not the adjective we're looking for here.



4. Off to Starbucks for a round of Midol and a quad latte for Mom.



5. Gentlemen, if you are that bored with this we can go home, and you can find something in your current mountain of clothes to wear that first day. That's all you will wear the rest of the year, anyways. If you continue to work my nerves, I will drag you through the ladies lingerie section again on our way back to the shoe department. And I mean the granny end of it. And I will smile and wave at the girls from your school that are stuck there with their moms just in case they might have missed you hiding under that display.



6. Ladies, if you are that bored with this we can go home, and you can find something in your current mountain of clothes to wear that first day. If you continue to work my nerves, I will drag you through the little girl's clothing section again, making sure to pretend that we are shopping there. Can you say Barbie underpants? I knew that you could.



7. Young man, you will only wear one of each kind of garment that first day, so put back the color-coordinated selection of boxers you were planning on graduating down your backside. Showing the top of one set of underwear is bad enough. Showing the tops of four pairs is ridiculous. Besides, you would have to walk your pants on a leash if you did that. And yes, right and left socks count as separate kinds, smartalec. And your shoes do, too, so you have to wear both.



8. Young lady, if the care tag is the largest piece of fabric on the underwear, you can forget it. Fugly colors are fine, it's your funeral. However, please remember that you just picked out a pair of white capri pants, and that chartreuse will show through those like a lighthouse on a foggy morning. No, that doesn't mean you can pick out that loud pattern so it will look cool when it shows through!



9. Genuflect when you pass through the door to the shrine of caffiene! Another quad latte for Mom.



10. If the heels of the shoes are so high they have their own weather pattern, you can forget it. If they are a color that doesn't occur in nature, you can forget it. No, they don't even have that one on the Discovery Channel. I don't care if they are the coolest thing ever, they are still too small. No. I don't care if they coordinate with your technicolor-painted toenails (particularly once your toes turn that lovely shade of purple due to obstructed blood flow).



11. If they are hobnailed or have steel spikes sticking out of them anywhere Mom may buy a pair just for the rest of our shopping excursions, but you sure aren't. If they are a color that could be used as construction traffic control or if they are lighted so they can be used to signal the mothership, it ain't happening. If they cost more than the gross national product of the European Union, you can forget it.



12. Young lady, you are NOT leaving the house in that shirt. Heck, you aren't even leaving your bedroom in that thing. Put it back. Here, try this mumu, uh, I mean chic new blouse.



13. Young man, there is a skimpily-dressed female draped all over that skateboard on that t-shirt. Not in this lifetime! Here, look at this one with the vaguely satanic symbols all over it. Maybe the vice-principal will think they're cool, too....



14. Let's try Tully's this time. They're closer. Another quad for me, and sedatives for the rest of the posse.



15. We will only be buying the stuff that is on the list they sent us. And no, those pens with the feathers sticking out of the backside are not on the list. Neither is that huge AC/DC sticker. What! They can't have dredged those guys out from under a rock. Can they?!



16. It says college rule on the list. Why do we have four cases of wide rule in this cart? Sorry gang, that trick was old when I was in school; they can see the difference. Nice try, though. Just type it and print it out in 13 pt. font. Duh!



17. They want HOW MUCH for that binder? You're joking! Besides, it's puke green. You're girlfriend will laugh and you won't bring it to school for the rest of the year.



18. No, Mr. Harry Potter isn't showing up on anything we're walking out the door with, young lady. Neither is SpongeBob. Would you like to rephrase that while you still have your health?



19. Sorry gang. We will only be going to seventeen stores per day. And that means 24 hours, smartalec. I know this cramps your style, but any more than that would strain the fabric of space-time. The dilithium crystals just can't take much more of this...

Anyone got a sword stuck in anything?

Friends don't let friends blog drunk!

I'm not drunk, first of all, but I saw a bumpersticker that said that today and I thought it was pretty darn funny. Right up there with "My kids drive me crazy; I drive them everywhere else". I guess if it is hitting bumperstickers blogging is starting to seep into the rest of the strata of society. Should be interesting.

Have you ever noticed what I refer to as "Calling Card Syndrome"? It is when someone, for whatever reason, is so tied to one particular part of their identity that they have to make sure you know it when you talk to them. If they could do it gracefully in this day and age they would have cards printed up with that on there and hand them out all the time. A famous example of a carder would be Sir Ian McKellan (who has not only come out of the closet, but out onto the lawn). But we all know people like this, and most of them aren't homosexual - they have kids or are getting divorced or whatever, and they have to make sure it gets mentioned in every gathering at least once, just to make sure you know about it before they can settle down to a conversation.

I didn't think I was too susceptible to it, and usually I was kind of sad for people who were so consumed by that one thing that it impinged on their life so deeply. Until I caught myself doing it. I guess in retrospect that no one really thinks they do stuff like that. Sort of the same Cleopatra-level denial you see on the roads. If 30% of the people on the road get cut off in the course of their morning commute, that means that 30% of the drivers cut people off. And yes, you might be part of that 30% if you looked out and admitted it to yourself.

Unsettling as it is, noticing it in myself did give me one thing - a better handle on what it is and why it happens. In my case, anyways, I think it was a combination of fatigue poisons, and a feeling that I had to know if they would talk to me even if they knew about it. I know it sounds silly, but in the harsh light of day when I re-read the irretrievable evidence of my folly that is what I truly felt. And in that morning after, all I can say is I felt relief that it was finally sitting out there for all to see and I didn't have to figure out ways to sneak my conversations with those people around its edges without waking it up anymore.

Another important aspect is that it is my own problem - none of them have ever indicated that they would react negatively. Despite all evidence to the contrary and the certain knowledge that they were far more likely to be supportive than vindictive, I feel afraid and ashamed and damaged in some way. I felt that for whatever reason people might not handle well knowing this, and in the case of these people it actually mattered more to me that they knew this and liked me anyways than the consequences of them reacting negatively.

Now that I see it, I hope I can stop it. I have a lot of great friends and they don't need to get something like this ground into the conversation every time I am there. They get enough of that already about the kids. :)

I do want to point out that I don't care if Sir Ian goes for men, women, salad vegetables, or the family pet. I enjoy his acting and have enjoyed listening to him speak in interviews and I don't care that he and his life-partner could share a razor. Actually, the list of personalities that fall into this category is quite long. Maybe I'll do a post about what is my business vs. what is someone else's business.

Life as Art...

So many of us would like life to be like art. I am predominately more the sort of person who thinks “More matter, and less art.” Occasionally, I run across a disturbing streak of fancy, though. It mostly manifests itself in daydreaming and storytelling.

I used to always wonder what it would be like to be the characters in the books I read. I would sit in English class and suppose myself young Jo Marsh, with her silly cap on her head and “genius a-burning”. In science class, a young Marie Curie discovered radium time and time again, and Jane Goodall discovered countless secrets in the jungles of Africa. Most of my shop classes were spent with Thomas Edison watching over my shoulder. I couldn’t tell you if it helped my grades or not, but I didn’t know about Admiral Hopper yet, and I failed computer science class, so maybe it did. Or it might have been the Apple Basic. ;)

I made myself part of stories, if I couldn’t find a ready someone to be. Captain Kirk never had a better weapons officer than my Katherine Wright. She also voyaged the seven seas with Horatio Hornblower, swathed herself in battle-silks and swung sword with Captain John Carter in the red deserts of Barsoom, and soared the skies of Pern on her queen dragon Zaralith, and blew up more Cylons than you can shake a stick at out of in her Red Squadron Viper. I have some fairly pathetic self-referential fan-fiction that I would never show to a soul I wrote in high school. Some writers (Diane Duane, for one) have made huge bucks out of that, but I think I would be too embarrassed.

She was a versatile lady. Not a thing like me though. I guess she was what I wish I was. I think in some ways, she is still with me. I sometimes dream, and find myself in the story again. Last year, I had a series of very vivid dreams with her as a fighter pilot in Babylon 5. She died gloriously.

She doesn’t seem to have an easy life. Sort of like a superhero character – they all tend to have had horrible pasts, with family members dying and all sorts of tragedy. Then they triumph over all, and find true happiness and fulfillment. Or die sacrificing themselves for something in a huge battle against dire wickeness. Either way seems painful, to be honest.

Even so, I sometimes still wonder, just what it would be like. Then real life kicks in the door. I have to go make dinner and feed the kids. Sometimes it’s hard to say that sentance without a little voice in my head saying, “To what?”

Crawling back out from under the rock...

Unfortunately, we've been under a rock here for the last several days. Allergies -> summer cold -> sinusitis -> MsZilla sitting around honking like a goose into tissues waiting for anti-biotics to do their job.

I'm slowing dragging out of the mire, and have great and glorious plans for this evening on all fronts. Stay Tuned!

To keep you occupied today, I added a link to MetaFilter to the Links Bank. How cool is that!

Girls Night In

Both gentleman of my household have found somewhere else to "hang" or "kick it" or whatever they call sleep-overs these days. This is a rare thing. It's just us girls tonight.

It's kind of an odd dynamic. They are out here on the big TV playing Kingdom Hearts and Read My Lips at the same time. This might explain why Anselm keeps handing their backside back to them, but I don't say that. It's interesting to see the different dynamic between their playing and the guys playing. The guys are all braggadocio, flailing around and thrashing through. With the girls, it's all about who does what and how they do it. Unfortunately most games are designed by and for guys, so guess which strategy is more successful. The "girls" games we've tried are so insipid they annoy even them - there's no point in using a computer for that when they can go do it together with their friends. They'll figure it out. I've been coaching them on the care and feeding of RPG characters, and they've really improved. I'm not sure if this is an important life skill in this day and age or not.

I dusted off my copy of "God's Debris" by Scott Adams. Well, you can't dust off an e-book, but you get the idea. Still an interesting exercise. I don't know if I believe all that mental maneuvering, but it does make for some good cerebral gymnastics if only to debunk it. Which from what I understand is kind of the point.

I just discovered that there is a real town called "Poughkeepsie". Holy cow. Mark another one off the "towns I thought were scriptwriter's creativity" list. What is the weirdest town name you know that is real?

Paper boats and little trains....

ZillaJr was just bit with the car bug this evening. Before this, we've talked about it, but no real action was taken. Today he calls me at work to inform me that he just washed our old car and checked all the fluids, and now he wants to jumpstart it. I was not amused and told him to wait until I got home and he should go find some of the tools skateZilla has lost in their room in the meantime. I came home to see just his back half sticking out from under the hood and he and two of his buddies pointing at stuff with that glee they used to reserve for cool bugs they found. He was covered in that black dirty grease from the outside of the engine topped off with a blissful smile of pure happiness on his face. I've seen the signs before. Lord help me.

grrlZilla and bookZilla have taken to primping to go to bed. I'm serious. I caught bookZilla coming out of the bathroom about ten minutes ago made up to the nines. We're talking prom-level makeup and serious hair. I asked her why, and she just fixed me with that haughty teenage "you'll never understand" look and mumbled she was going to bed. How did I end up with two makeup drenched clothes-horses?

skateZilla is spending the rest of the week with an old friend who is going to be moving to another state, so things are really quiet around here. It's interesting how the dynamic changes when just one of them is gone. Any one of them seems to change things until they are almost unrecognizable.

They are all growing up. I see signs of it every day. I am so scared for them and so proud all at the same time. Just like Jackie Paper, those paper boats and little trains are making room for other toys. I'm not sure what I'm going to do - slowly slip into my cave?

I added The Grand List of Science Fiction Cliches to the links bank. Funny in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way, and a great reference for those deus ex machina plots that writers always seem to fall into.

Pumpkin-time for this Cinderella....

Well, I just had some news that totally took the wind right out of my sails. It's silly of me to feel this way - I've never met this person face to face, but it still hurts all the same.

I finished the fifth Harry Potter book (by dint of sneaking it out from under bookZilla's lax fingers in the middle of the night). I have two copies, but I couldn't get either one of them to let go during daylight hours, and plus I have this pesky job-thing to deal with. It was interesting, to say the least. I want to read it again when I'm not punch-drunk from sleep-deprivation and see if it comes off differently. I can say that there is no way you get everything the first time through this one. I've already had a couple of inadvertent back-tracks due to the girls loosing my spot and I know that I picked up things I missed going through them the first time.

At any rate, I'm gonna go and step into a phonebooth and put on my sane human being costume and see if I can't get some sleep.

Parent, Know thyself....

The best things in life aren't free, they just don't cost money. That is something a lot of people don't understand. Usually, they cost you time. Kids teach us these things just by being around. The best thing about them isn't being able to buy them things or take them places, but just being there and being with them. Getting to know them as people and getting them the things that really make them happy. If you take the time to notice, you might just be surprised.

I see so many parents who don't know what is going on in their children's lives. This usually shows up the worst when one of mine is invited to one of their kid's birthday parties. I ask the parents "What would X like?" Time and again I run into parents don't even know what he wants for his birthday, or what kind of music their kids listen to.

As they get older, the kids don't help much, I'm afraid. As they are in the process of separating themselves into "me" and "not me", and as part of that whole process they have a vested interest in keeping you away from some aspects of their life.

There are ways to keep things together, though. In my case, I have found that all it takes is even more time. Time to listen to their music, to watch those obnoxious movies full of explosions and silly posturing that they love so much, to pick up a game controller and play the games they are spending so much time thrashing through, to read the books the school is forcing them to read, to have them show you that move they just perfected at the skatepark.

And then the time to talk about them. Nothing overly-planned, nothing too much, nothing forced, just have a conversation. Like you would have over coffee with a friend. I have had lots of luck with asking them to explain what the heck "x" new word means. With a tiny bit of genuine encouragement, most of them will rattle on forever if they are teaching you something. They love to have it proved that they know more than you about something.

Of course, if it has been a while, you have a tougher row to hoe. Start small. You might want to just let them "catch you" reading your own copy of the book, or watching the film. Just be sure you aren't invading their space in the process - if it is their game console and not family property, make sure you ask first. But carry on with it, and follow through.

Really try it out and be honest with yourself. You don't have to like it all. I have had to listen so some fairly heavy angry-young-man music, and having never been angry, young, or male, it can feel like torture sometimes. If I like maybe one song off each CD, I feel like it is a win. Mine actually like the fact that I don't like some parts of it because it helps them feel that when I say I like something I really do. If you really can't stand it, there are plenty of other things out there you can try instead.

Then once you have found something you actually like about it, ask them their opinion on it. Be prepared to be rebuffed pretty hard, but keep at it. If you are genuinely interested, it will come through. They may never say it out loud. You may get treated to the best performance of studied indifference you have ever seen, you may get condescending answers, and they may talk about you behind your back to their friends in the most disparaging way. But they do notice, and it does matter a great deal. That is why you need to find something you like enough to do this even in the face of their studied disdain, and carry on anyways.

I have been lucky. I stumbled upon the above advice when mine were very little, and for whatever reason I have been able to keep a connection. I have always liked games, so I have chosen to keep up with that the most, and in fact I write reviews for an online gaming magazine now, and GM one of their roleplaying groups. They are used to it. Now that they are teens, they don't think it is so weird that I can hold my own in the games they play (and beat them in some), or that I have heard of these Linkin Park guys and can discuss their music and even like one (and only one) of their songs, or that I know what a melon grab is when I see it.

Their friends think its weird, though. And I think that is sad.

I love the smell of erasers in the morning...

The oddysee has begun. I was grocery shopping this evening and we ran into the very first kiosk of school supplies for the year. grrlZilla let out this sort of tortured wail, and I have stood there and chuckled quite evilly for several moments. Yesssss......

I know that gloating is unseemly, so I do try to keep it where they can't see it. But here in the depths of summer, when all seems to be a barren wasteland of broken curfews and drifts of huge sneakers in my foyer, I have to keep my eyes on the prize. This too shall pass. One day not too far off, all these persons from Porlock will be picked up in the morning and trundle off to their appointed rounds instead of holding a mock UN meeting in front of my house every day.

In the spirit of keeping that firmly in mind, I have added a countdown timer to the first day of school in our school district to this site.

I also added a DVD review to movZilla. Still trying to get Tomb Raider up to snuff; I have finished it. Trying to go through it again and see if repetition helps. I think longingly of X2: Wolverine's Revenge now. Those days seem halycon compared to the torture that is the control system in this thing. I'll keep the rest for later.

Some people believe...

in the mythology of Sleep. Others in that whole Free Time thing.

I believe in the mythology of testing (or QA for short). Not only that, but I am proseletizing here at my place of work, and have converted most of the rest of the development staff to the faith. The rites of the faith require masses of hardware and copies of every browser known to man. The rites of the faith are distinguished by an ancient process of trying stuff out before you make other people deal with it.


Quote of the Day

Actually, I need a little help on this one. I remember the quote, but I cannot place an attribution anywhere! I am in possession of this really cool thought and I don't know if I can use it! It is maddening.

"The tears of the weak are meaningless, but the tears of the strong can change the world."

Bit by bit....

I've done a lot of work on this site this last few days, but you really can't see it. And it's a good thing. It will show up as some ease-of-use improvements that will help make this site a bit easier to read and to move between it and it's sisters. I have some more improvements coming. That's how you do things on the World Wide Wait; one little bit at a time.

(I'm sorry, but the pun was intended. I'm so tired I don't think I have two dendrites on speaking terms at this point, and in this state that was almost witty.)

Lethargic Lad is still MIA, so I've found an understudy. Bloop.tv is a flash animation of a green space monkey. Interesting little story. I'll be watching as the episodes are posted - this one contains a reference to Starbucks. Percolationist that I am, I've just gotta see where this is going.

Archive Trolling

I have a lot of works that I have written in various other places. I'm gonna gather a bunch of this stuff here, sort of as a "best of" thing. This was originally posted on Slate as an answer to a question from someone from Alaska who wanted to talk to me about it. The whole thread can be found here.

================================

Yes, I remember...

I'm not an Alaska Native, but I was lucky enough to be born and raised there. I got the best of both worlds. I spent half my life in the Interior, and the other half in south-central.

I have played in a runoff waterfall right next to the highway and watched reckless windsurfers dare the tide-rip in Turnagin Arm as the Winnebagos lumbered by and the mountains seemed to laugh at all of us in the sun. I have stood on the shoulders of Denali itself, leaning on an ice axe and I have watched the sun rise over the rest of the Range, that clear pink light chasing away the sharp-edged shadows and leaving the peaks stained rose and gold. I have stood at the edge of the world and looked out over the pack ice and wondered if Santa really does live out there.

I have watched bears fish and people fish and sometimes watched the fish get their own back. Having a large halibut in a small boat is my working definition of a bull in a china shop. I have pulled rainbow flashing sheets of smelt and struggling nets of salmon out of the river, and then jockeyed with the rest of the children to try and avoid the incredible amount of work it is to deal with them once you do. I too have walked the beach looking for dimples, and then dug frantically at the clinging gray mud racing a razor clam. I have watched the sun rise over the Flats when we camped down by the river so we could fish before the tourists get up.

I have felt the sea slap the sides of my kayak as a pod of curious orcas came to see what we were doing nancing around on top of their world. I can still feel the slick wet-neoprene feel of the black skin sliding under my hand as I caught myself on its back when it bumped me and the solemn realization that 30 tons is a hell of a lot bigger in real life than in the abstract. Particularly when it winks at you (I swear it did!).

I have sat on the floor next to a glowing oil-barrel stove in that one-leg out half-lotus with the old ones, watching their flashing needles and beads make beauty, and mine struggle to follow. I have run with the dogs and raced snowmachines with my Gramma. I got 13 rabbits on my trap line one day, and I was so proud. I have ridden 150 miles on frozen roads "into town" to go grocery shopping and to buy my prom dress.

I know the crash and hustle of the rink. The scent of a hand-me-down hockey helmet and the leather of the glove. The weight of big stick in my left hand and the gear digging into my shoulder and not being able to wipe away that drip of sweat freezing on the inside of the helmet because I can't raise my mask in the middle of the game. The endless laps under the lights and the lashing whistle of the coach. The endless laps at night on the lake under the stars when no one is around, feeling the grooves cut into the ice from the kids playing and the pick up game you and your buddies played after practice and the most wonderful sort of peace descending.

I know the racket and vibration from chainsaws, and the way your hand keeps tingling for a minute even when you put the saw down. I have stood back and watched it fall, and then went in to dismember the fallen and load it into the truck. The sharp piny scent of broken branches competes with the curiously sweet, burnt scent of two-cycle oil as you walk to the next one.

I could go on, but I had better not. Duty calls here Outside. And you are right, even here, these people and places are with me. I can stand here in this muddled gray morning and have these things in my heart and be the better for it.

Big Doings Over at Chez MsZilla

Three may be a crowd in some circles, but a couple of friends of mine and I think it is just fine. MsZilla has developed a couple of partner blogs.

Actually, they are just my blatherings, separated by topic. Turns out I usually talk about games, movies, or dreck. So, we have MomGamer, who will be handling all game related stuff, movZilla for film-related madness, and MsZilla for the random stuff that defies categorization. Bear with me while I get this stuff all integrated and get all the content I have out there.

I have more links coming, too. I'm having way too much fun with this.

Toepick!

The kids were watching "The Cutting Edge" for some adolescent reason I'm not going to try to fathom tonight. I have to admit to liking this film, if only for the sheer improbabiliy of watching them try to convince people that a hockey player can turn into a world-class championship figure-skater in something like six months. Heck, it's hard enough to convince people that an actor can stand up on skates.

Actually, I also have a soft spot for the characters. Moira Kelly is the classic fragile frozen-queen type, and her bewildered expression as he turns her ordered little life on it's backside really sells her character. D.B. Sweeney's take on hockey players was interesting, but in real life he would have spent most of his time on the road doing laps around the gym mummified in atheletic tape shouting "Chilly Willy is my hero!". My favorite line is when her boyfriend says, "I don't like to see her upset," in his own unique attempt at being British and Doug answers, "I'd invest in blindfolds." Roy Dotrice is one of the best character actors out there, and he gets his Russian thing on with a certain glee that is great for the character.

At any rate, back to real life. Sorry, just had long laugh at the thought.

Quote of the Day
In the midst of the word we were trying to say,
In the midst of our laughter and glee.
We will softly and silently vanish away,
For the Snark was a Boojum, you see.

-- Lewis Carroll "The Hunting of the Snark"

A Fine Command of the Language

I love my job. I really do. The other developer who works with me is about as unlikely in this business as I am. She's an ex-bar-maid and she's over 50. Needless to say, she has a fine command of the language. Today, someone working on the phone system bumped a power switch in the server room that just so happened to have the development IIS server on it while we were trying to do a compile. She read him a description of his parentage that didn't even once mention anything as close as monkeys in a high monotone chant that scriggled up your spine like fingernails on a chalkboard. I wish I could have written it down to study. It was art. Later, I told her that next time I get to be the psychotic pistol-whipping cop. She just laughed.

I don't know what the dealio is with Lethargic Lad, except that it is comic convention season, so he might just be off doing his rounds. I'm keeping an eye on it. He left us hanging mid-story!

A bunch of us on the Fray got to suggesting links to someone who was bored, and I got a whole bunch of new cool ones to add to the Links Bank. Check them out! ------------>