November 20th, 2003

running, bomb tech

War. Illegal war.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/Iraq/Story/0,2763,1089158,00.html

My stance on war: there are some things worse than war. Acceptable war, to me, is entered into through lawful process to right a situation worse than war, and is followed up with, you know, sanity.

That's if it's with another country.

Internal rebellion in a country is, naturally, unlawful, but is entered into after the rational decision that the current and forseeable climate and laws in the country are irrevokably at odds with the first principles of the country.
Little Fayoumis, Nephew

Music

Little Fayoumis asked me, today, how one spelled Y.M.C.A. I told him, and he began mentioning a cool song.

I snickered, and ran after my CD collection, and sure enough, there it was. I snagged the track info, fast-forwarded...

He's having a righteous boogey with his supper.
  • Current Music
    So. Very. Gay. ... Fabulous!!!
documentation, writing, quill

Writing group at the Women's Center

Adventures, adventures.

So I was going to go with easalle to the writing group at the women's center, and bring my NNWM novel. So her husband gets home late, and she says she's on her way ...

... and then I get an IM from her husband saying that she's sort of potentially lost.

So we get that straightened out, and then he says oh yeah -- it's book club night. There is some waffling, but finally I agree that going would be a good thing. And LF and I have been ready waiting, and we zoom.

The flashy ad-screen-thing on the corner of 19th Ave and McDowell is a fucking danger. I should complain. But it's an effective landmark.

We missed the place the first time when we were driving, because we were talking. I pointed this out, and we got there. I think that's the second time. I was with her both times. Hmm.

Little Fayoumis (who was along, as I'm in charge until Marx gets his school schedule to chill down, which'll be February, I think) got sent to the kids' area, and I went and chilled with the loud people. We were supposed to have read a book, I think the title was That Takes Ovaries, about the gutsy things that women do and have done. This of course turned into talking about stuff. I was relatively quiet.

It was fun. We came back here and I ... did something that I believe could be construed as an act of infidelity. *sigh* Yes, dear, easalle got a copy of my story so far, before you did, but I'll very shortly be putting the same within your reach.
  • Current Mood
    uh-oh
running, bomb tech

Day things

Went to school. History went over well. Doing my paper on Adm. Dr. Hopper. Hee, double duty. Also crocheted in class.

Lab. Much with the cussing. Managed to figure out the matter of permissions on the thingy, which was causing much ill to the other thingy. (thingy the first: userfile, thingy the second, viewing the web pages protected and viewable only by being the user named in said userfile.) (Page being viewed said this: "This page is secret. This page is protected from the terrible secret of space." Sadly, only I got it.)

Mr. President wants to go to the Devonshire Faire. He is contemplating selling his services as an escort. He leered at me and had me feel his pecs. He has no phone. I should lend him mine.

COBOL lecture. McGuirk is back. (*sigh*)

After that, DeVry had its Thanksgiving thing. Ate with my group from Server Admin, minus Irving, who had to leave.

Hung about school and teased my EET gayboy (who is Mr. Pres's roommate) by sharing the Terrible Secret of Skippy, and also Hank's Ass, with him. Little to no progress on novel.

Picked up the "viable food source" and came home. He did homework; I tried to call Darkside. (No answer.) We chilled, and eventually went to writing night. Then we came home, and he got himself packed off to bed. Amazingly, no fuss. Even though it was too late for him to read me his school book, I read him This House is Made of Mud. (A copy was given to all school kids, evidently.)

I chilled.

The rest of the family came home.