September 10th, 2004

running, bomb tech

So -- could this be the Day from Hell, or was it utterly awesome?

My day started out at 5:30 AM, when I woke up unexpectedly, and then wound up just not going back to sleep. I got out the door in time to catch the 6:30 bus, which was less crowded than the usual 6:45 bus. I waited around at the plasma place. This time, Mr. Wheel 'n' Deal had a spare crate for me to sit on; I happily took advantage of this -- away from the smoke.

(I am sensitive to tobacco smoke. One good lungful of secondhand smoke drifting my way on the breeze will raise my pulse by ten beats per minute or so. Breathing smoke closer to me or in a tightly enclosed space can sometimes make my pulse double and stay double for an hour or more. A good half my death-on-cigarettes stance, and almost all my "smoking should not happen anywhere that I can breathe it" stance is based on this medical issue, which has been an issue all of my life, as far as I can tell.)

Everything went fine in the plasma place up until the needle stick. Collapse ) The third person asked me if I'd like to have a re-stick. I said yes, please. Of course, my other arm had no vein that they could find, so I got sent home with a slight red blood cell loss (and full pay).

Instead of going straight home, I went to the library. Now, last Thursday, I lost my month bus pass, so I've been paying for all my bus rides and getting transfers. (I should really get a book of day tickets for my Thursdays.) Of course, I couldn't find The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency there, not even with the help of the nice librarian. I said it was no problem -- I'd pick it up at Burton Barr, as I'd be that way this afternoon. (Ha.)

Came back on the bus within the time limit of the transfer (I'd been debating visiting some of the shops in the mall, but it was so late by the time I was done looking for books that it wasn't going to fly on that transfer) and then zipped over to Hancock Fabrics to get elastic, get patterns, ogle Ravenclaw scarf yarn, and inquire about sewing machine repairs. (The Bernina people charge $60 something for a checkup, oil, clean, and tuneup. This machine is broooooken, with things falling out and all. I'll see what the guy at the whateverth and Peoria Hancock is charging first.)

I would have crashed after I came home, only there was LJ-ing and chatting and things to be done before I went off for writing group. So I did those instead, and then repaired to bed with a book for half an hour to soak my ear with eardrops (Swimmer's Ear making a flare-up under all this stress) before doing my hair and zooming off to the writer's group.

Somewhere in there, I got the MoveOn.org e-mail about the neighborhood candlelight vigil in mourning for the 1,000 US people killed in the action in Iraq. I noted it down and decided that while it was unlikely that I would be able to make any officially organized one, that I bloody well could start my own. So in addition to the assloads of black fabric shoved into the backpack so easalle could start on the harem pants, I shoved in a box of tea lights (including some of the ones from you, starbrow -- they are lovely and ever so useful!) and some lighters.

The magicgeeking document failed to save to the floppy disk. Dammit. I e-mailed it to myself instead. I think the disk drive's days are over. This is not really a problem -- I don't have any information of import on floppies, and I don't need to use Sneakernet for much anymore.

I headed off in a tizzy, with high hopes that the afternoon would be less painful than the morning. I caught the southbound 19, then decided to get off at Glendale to wait for the Red Line (based on lack of occupation of bus stop).

Alas, my hopes of having a peaceful wait at the bus stop were all in vain. A fellow motored up and tried to engage me in conversation based on what I was reading. He was evidently not a fellow avid reader, because after I'd wordlessly showed him the cover (Tanya Huff, Relative Magic), he tried to enage me in further conversation.

"Do you do magic?"
"It's interesting," I said, as I'd had the sudden instinct to not give very much away to this person.
"Do you know Jesus Christ?"
"He's interesting," I said.

He proceeded to lecture on how Jesus Christ and magic do not go well together, and Magic is Dangerous. I bit my tongue on "Jesus was a Magician, buttmunch, learning his Divine True Will just like I am, and if you think the proper implementation of powers gotten via the Divine True Will in accordance with same are incompatible with Jesus Christ, you're more screwed than I thought you were. Feel this -- does that feel like the Devil? Learn, man!" and instead sat and smiled and read.

He tried to get my name out of me and tell me how concerned he was for me. I smiled and didn't give my name. Wordless eye contact is evidently a little spooky for some people.

We both got on the Red Line, but I sat in the back, and he and his motorized wheelchair/scooter were strapped down in the middle, so there was no more conversation. There were a few "Where did that beta go?" moments reading Relative Magic, but all of them were little things that could have been fixed by a slightly more attentive beta with no real impact on the actual content.

Things got interesting when I got on the Eastbound 17. I showed my transfer to the driver. The driver told me that this was from yesterday. I had a WTF?! moment, and pointed out that I'd been given this today. The driver said this was impossible. I told him it was too possible, and specified that it was the 19 southbound that had been at this street at this time. I grudgingly paid for another fare, and discovered that my wallet was not in the pocket of my purse that I leave it in. I searched the purse quietly but frantically, and eventually came up with a change purse that had the 25 cents more in it, but was still missing the wallet.

I got to freshstartwrite right after V. The lady with as much pain and angst and possibly even more operations than wiseheron was there again, yay, and there were two other people (new). easalle arrived slightly later with The Artist's Way, her new awesome neon rainbow plaid hat and matching skirt, and an embryonic migraine (ow).

I excused myself briefly to call marxdarx and check on the possibly urgently problematic status of my missing wallet. It was eventually located under a CD folder by my computer by the alarm clock. The status was downgraded to "mildly annoying" rather than "urgently missing"; if it was just at home instead of in someone else's possession, I had no need to worry.

There was much fun had by all. V left early to hit the candlelight vigil, and told us all about where to find it if we were so inclined. I read excerpts from the bit about the guy and "Girls just wanna have fun"; the group was in stitches. I should really tighten that and write it up properly. That's an outtake from the original version of Home Movies from the Cutting-Room Floor, I think...
wild rose

The candlelight vigil for the 1,000 US citizens killed in Iraq

easalle and I wound up at the candlelight vigil. It was fun and solemn and very interesting. Finding them was no problem; finding a parking space could have been one, only it wasn't. We pulled through a hotel valet parking area, judged it too upscale for the likes of vigil parking, zoomed out and around, and wound up in the one remaining spot in mall parking. (Fortuitous timing!) The vigil was on 24th street and Camelback. I yanked my purse and the box of tea lights out and brought them with; we crept up to the end of the line on the northeast corner and lit our candles from the guy at the end of the line.

We stood there in complete silence for a bit until someone came up and suggested that people take other corners of the street. We thought this was a great idea, and headed to the southeast corner, where there were already a few people. That was where V was. After we got there, some of the people who had been there spread to the other two corners, leaving just V, easalle, the pink-banged chick whose LJ name I don't know yet, and me. Well, and the semi-discreet cop talking into his walkie-talkie a discreet distance back.

We held candles and held them up at passing cars. Tea lights spill candle wax on hands, but they're great for setting on the sidewalk in front of the line of vigil-holders.

There was one negative incident -- some asshat shouted, "You're all losers!" out the window of his huge shiny pickup truck. (Losers for regretting that people are dying and wanting that the problems be stopped forthwith, no matter what individual plans we think are best for stopping the problems? I fail to parse.) This called for immediate retaliation. With my stage-trained lungs, the ones that have got many years of singing experience, and four years of bellowing at cats and kids on top of that, I shouted back, "We love you!" Best retort I could come up with on short notice, and by the time that was out of my mouth, I was able to edit and swallow the rest of it; completed, it would have been the highly sarcastic and also somewhat inflammatory "We love you too, asshole!"

The event was supposed to wind down at 8:45. We didn't start packing up until 9:10 or later. There were still people about when we left; some of them were possibly planning to stay later.

Our usual gang decided to hit Coco's afterwards; we invited the new girl to come along too. Everyone fit into easalle's lovely capacious vehicle with only a little scrunching. Hooray!
loud fayoumis

Other random annoyances of the day:

Chiller unit: still leaking. Guy from repair staff of apartment came in to look at it, though. Still leaking. Yow? At least it's in a bucket and not on the rug.

iroshi was looking for the Diva Dance, and I located it -- on a disk I need, badly, to re-burn with proper file attributes. Snarled my way through setting things readable. Cursed at length.

Assorted pain from friction burn on side from bloody stupid sweat. Ow.
  • Current Mood
    sore sore
Azzgrin, Azure: Lunatic, crazy

Dinner fun!

The four of us piled into Coco's a mere 20 minutes before they closed. We're regulars now, so we barely got away with it with good grace. easalle graciously spotted me coffee and cookies.

There was much giggling, as we were all loopy from the vigil. We told assorted hilarious stories. "Maybe they're out of blinker fluid!" will be, from now on, the snarky comment applied to vehicles not using their turn signals. I rehashed the "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" incident for V and the new chick. V rehashed her radio newsreader stories for the edification of the group, the most hilarious of them involving a co-worker's simulated wanking climaxing in a spurt of whipped cream.

That, of course, was apropos of the large amount of whipped cream around. easalle and I had gotten whipped cream on our coffee. I attempted to tie the cherry stem in a knot while giggling. Failure! I almost snorted the cherry stem out my nose instead. Evidently people consider me in danger of choking and dying when I laugh too hard, even if I'm perfectly fine.

Josh-the-waiter delayed the delivery of my cookies because he was contemplating what he wanted to do to them. He eventually brought me this great huge bowl with the cookies in it, and two (?) scoops of ice cream, a whole pantload of whipped cream, drizzled with chocolate, and with three cherries on top. V and I shared the monstrosity. We all tried to come up with names for it, each more innuendo-laden than the last.

Josh-the-waiter is our regular waiter. He was our waiter when we first started going there, and we've had a lot of fun with him. Recently, he attempted to quit; they begged for him to return, and return he did, and there was much rejoicing.

There was whipped cream. There was a lot of whipped cream. Scary things were done with the whipped cream, including me licking it from the spoon suggestively. Since I was tired and silly, I also hung the spoon from my nose; pretty soon, the entire table was wearing nose-spoons.

We had to tell Josh-the-waiter that there was no spoon. We had to. He walked off groaning.

It was excellent fun. On a sadder note, the other bellydancing chick was there at the usual time, and waited for a while before leaving, while we were still at the vigil. We missed her. It was a very impromptu thing... Also, V is going back East again for more housesitting/petsitting, so we won't be seeing her again for another month.

Everyone detangled our stuff from the back of the capacious vehicle, V sped off on her bike, and easalle gave the new chick and me lifts home. My rat-memory has the general area registered now, so finding again won't be a problem. We will hopefully have a new writing group regular! Hooray!
grin & duck -- friends, grin & duck

Morning things, and complete elemental set.

Woke up happily. Went out to go shopping. Came back with necessary things including my very own cast-iron skillet. (The frying pan situation had been getting dire.)

Hooray! Now I have a complete functional set of elemental weaponry -- sword, bonky flashlight, cast-iron frying pan, and of course my pentacle. (It works admirably as a shield, although it sometimes gets a little too prematurely defensive by looking at people.)

I need to take up weight-lifting again so that I can wield the fryingpan with consummate ease rather than mere brute force.
  • Current Music
    Ben Folds Five - Brick
pencil

Filter between brain and mouth

Since I type faster than I write, I can more effectively do my morning pages by making a private post on LJ. Selecting the little eye icon removes that filter between my brain and my mouth. There's no time to filter when I'm typing fast. There's plenty of time to filter when I'm writing by hand.

I got a really nice chunk this morning.

It occurs to me that my mornings with Darkside in the cafeteria were the verbal equivalent of morning pages. It really takes someone special to be able to speak like that to, going through the brainbabble to find the good stuff. (There are a few topics I don't feel entirely sanguine about letting him have pure unfiltered access to, but those are mainly for his sake. He's not comfortable with the pure raw unfiltered emotion, and I don't expect him to be, and some of the > PG-13 thoughts he likewise wouldn't want to go through without heavy warning. ) It keeps dawning on me over and over just how lucky I am...

But yeah, now that I'm not having that five days a week, I really need to do just that much braindump, though it won't have quite the same feedback.
  • Current Music
    Cracker - Euro Trash Girl
old school hacker, bug

In which the Lunatic feels validated despite the Old Lady

At the checkin desk, the SOS today (a lady I don't have a nickname for) told me that the Alpha Geek had said thank you for finding the bug. He'd been looking up and down the code (and not finding it, I deduce), so my discovery was deuced handy. He'd said to thank whoever found it.

I made the IT guy's job easier! It's been a good chunk of time since the initial bug report...
  • Current Mood
    w00t
running, bomb tech

Cooking for Engineers

Slashdot recommends: Cooking for Engineers.

Recipes are discussed, then presented in an easy-to-follow visual format, in a table with the ingredients stacked vertically down the left side of the table, and the actions and flow of the recipe proceeding horizontally from the left to the right.
  • Current Music
    Pink Floyd - Trance R