I know I'm not her mommy. But when I see her sad, I wish there were more I could do.
I'm glad there's someone in my life who, just by talking, does more than enough...
Carbon monoxide (CO): Colorless, odorless, deadly gas that suffocates people by binding to their red blood cells so that said cells are unable to carry oxygen like they ought to. Telltale signs of carbon monoxide exposure include headache/feeling like there's a tight band around your head, nausea, and a cherry-red skin tone.
Carbon dioxide (CO2): Colorless, odorless gas breathed out by humans and in by plants. Breathing this without any oxygen will suffocate you, because there is no oxygen, and that's what you need to breathe. Breathing this with enough oxygen mixed in happens every day.
Conked out around 0200, and slept until just a few minutes ago.
This is a good thing. I have been irregular on sleep of late.
Enki crashed on us a few ago, and had to be rebooted. Took the network down.
Fortunately, he doesn't do this often.
Unfortunately, I believe he does this regularly.
This time, Enki froze just a little while after rebooting.
Poor thing. He's getting old.
...Regarding my last entry... those were famous last words about the 'often', weren't they.
Famous last words indeed. Fifteen minutes after the second reboot, guess who went down again?
Due to a mishap and a misunderstanding last night...
...this afternoon, roses.
Pretty roses. Yummy. Red. Twelve.
Two new remixes of "Attack of the Gabber Robots": one with the same song and tweaking of the pics, and the other with a new version of the song and more than tweaking of the pics.
It is posting stuff, and then saying it didn't post. Its latest trick is to show the "I am closed" icon, unless it is flashing, and then it will go back to the "I am closed" icon in the tray when I click on it to stop it from flashing.
Crack, I say.
Maybe it is on anime crack.
When I was in high school, a senior, I finally had time in my busy schedule for the Academic Decathlon, ten brain-busting-for-fun events including things like math, music, art, literature, and (the year I was in it) the Global Economy.
We won at the local level, and got to go to State.
Before we went, we got lectured by Ms. McKinney, the supervisor of the club (and the Gifted & Talented teacher) on the Rules, and that it was important to adhere to them lest we hurt someone or ourselves, and especially lest we become disqualified through breakage of the rules. To reinforce this, she brought up some of the exploits of past students.
One of the Rules was, Don't throw anything out the windows of the hotel. That was there as a safety rule, of course. An object falling accelerates at a speed, blah blah blah, and of course dropping something hard from up high could hurt or seriously kill people.
Normal students would of course have accepted this for safety reasons and gone on without breaking the rule, or would have disregarded it and the safety of anyone below.
Not so with the Acadeca crowd. Recall that this is a crowd of ... nine? Ten? Twelve? of the brightest students in the high school. One of the guys thought about this long and hard, and reasoned that, well, birds fly higher than this building, right? And no one's ever been killed by falling guano, right?
So, he opens up the window, and squeezes out some toothpaste.
All would have been good, except for the intersection of the toothpaste with the lady with the fur coat walking below...
His parents paid the cleaning bill. The team was disqualified.
Acadeca. State competition. 9-12 Talented Yeeth in a large hotel in the biggest city in the state, with minimal adult supervision.
Hell yeah we were having fun.
Someone had bought incense. The hotel thoughtfully provided mini coffee pots in the hotel rooms, with little kits so we could make our own. Excellent.
So, somehow, someone got the bright idea of taking the powdered non-dairy creamer and spilling it out of the package into the air, where it briefly formed a cloud... and lighting it on fire.
Fireballs! Safe, effective, lovely, pyromania-satisfying, fireballs!
There was nothing in the rules that prevented us from playing with incense or lighters. I was surprised. There probably should have been.
They debated throwing a few out the window, since they would not hit the ground. I do not remember whether they did that or not.
At the awards banquet at the end, there were little candles on the tables in the banquet hall. I looked at those candles, and I got a glint in my eye, and I asked a passing waiter if I might have some powdered non-dairy creamer. The rest of the table grinned, because they knew what was headed through my mind.
The plan was to make some fireballs to punctuate the applause for our group, because we were just the coolest, though we did not go on to nationals. Sadly, the creamer was too lumpy, and not finely-divided enough, and merely sat in the wax and sulked.
I don't know how this tradition came to be, but the thing for the West Valley High School of Fairbanks Alaska Academic Decathlon team was gummy bears. Gummy bears and beanie hats.
Gummy bears were eaten throughout the stuff, as encouragement to the team. We would spin the propellers on the hats, to set our minds in motion.
Occasionally, people would throw gummy bears. This was frowned upon.
For the State competition, I was the happy recipient of a five-pound bag of gummy bears from Sam's, because my parents figured it would be OK to get me some, and that the team would need many.
I think that was the only year we had too many.