Back to accountability:
I think a reason for the absolute and abject lack of accountability is the litigiousness of the society. If you bump your car into another car, you can't just offer to pay for it: they'll take you to court and have their insurance sue your insurance and then sue your insurance for letting their insurance sue your insurance, and then they'll sue you for allowing the pointless lawsuits between the insurance escalate. Sure, that's an exaggeration, but it often feels like that. The only think that keeps most people, I'm fairly sure, on the "straight and narrow," is the fear of legal ramifications. If there were no law to keep any and everyone from stealing and injuring everyone else, there would be massive theft and injury. The correct reaction to accidentally harming another human is not "I'm sorry. Are you OK," it's "NOT MY FAULT! NOT MY FAULT!" So there ya go.
Maybe it's the cynic in me, but that's how I see things.

Just say it over and over again:
Humanity is not too sick to survive,
Humanity is not too sick to survive,
No really,
Humanity is not too sick to survive.

I've been having a problem with accountability. I feel that if I don't constantly tell myself that everything I do is my fault (which it is), I'll start believing that I can get away with things. This is unhealthy. I also find that, if I don't have that running commentary explaining why everything I do is my fault (which it is. I am responsible for my own actions), I yell a lot at traffic. If I'm thinking, "What can I do to make this situation turn out so that I get what I want," while I drive, I'm a better driver, maybe just because I pay more attention and am aware of my surroundings.
With regards to the previous post, I just have a line from Ghostbusters in my head; it's not a healthy one. I keep thinking, "Humanity is too sick to survive." That's not a good way to think, says me.

My goal for the week: cut humanity some much-deserved slack.

There's a show on TV right now. It's in Spanish. On it, a man is being fixed up with one of three women. They have each cooked a dish. He gets to taste one bite and decides which he wants to date, based on that. It's... distinct.

I've seen more episodes now. I've got more even on the way. And then more. And more.
There are a lot of episodes of Farscape. There are more than 40 discs now released in the series. On the one hand, it's a silly sci-fi show. On the other, Muppets!

In fact, here's an example:
Episode 1 ends with Our Hero, John, sitting at a table having just been threatened by no less than sixty percent of the crew. The next one opens with them waking up to an alarm (did his shit get ganked in the night by the little froggy dude? I don't know. It's a plot point that was introduced and forgotten. Or was it?) and discovering that their ship is projecting its location (they like the word "exponentially," don't they?) and they have to muffle the signal.
"Hey!" says Our Hero, "Isn't there Water on the Third Planet Down There?"
How in the hell...
What?
He was clueless and lost a minute ago. Then he slept again (he'd slept on the ship in the previous episode, so don't gimme that "fresh eyes" crap) and now he knows the composition of passing planets? What?
Oh wait. That's episode fucking 7. It's only consecutive on the DVD release of this series that may be fantastic, but has a stupid, stupid rat-creature of a feature on it. Discs 5-11 of the series contain consecutive episodes. All of season 2 contains consecutive episodes. Season 1, discs 1-5: load o' crap.
It's like some Fox exec designed it: "Heh. This'll turn off those new fans. If you don't know the show, this will make it look weak and badly written. Mwahaha!"

I've now seen a little Farscape. The series is good, but the DVDs have one of those features-that's-not-a-feature: they're all the hell out of order. I've now seen, like, episodes 1, 4 and 7, or something like that. This serves to accentuate the fact that there is no character development in the series, so you can watch them in any old order. It seems that between the first and second episodes (actually first & fourth), the crew of prisoners are ready to trust the alien invaders who they tried to kill moments ago. There even seems to be affection blooming between the two warrior types. I dunno. Maybe they develop in episode 2. It's kind of jarring, though, how they put the discs together, as it really makes the series look poorly written. Oh well.

Lord Of The Rings, Fellowship of the Ring, the Short Version.

An answer to my previous question about Germany and its several names.

Oh, and I'm not going to SCaRE (the vampire game I threatened to think about going to on the second of March). Instead, A friend is throwing a big party, to which I intend to go. Brother Machine, as I understand it, will be there as well.

A puzzler for youse:
In Italian, Germany is called "Germania". The adjective German, though, is "Tedesco." Why?

Hee. The Apex of Sexy Danger.
If that makes no sense to you, you oughta start toward the beginning of the story. Ta.

I am almost practically thinking about maybe considering going to this.

Their references to Kottke.org got me wondering: is Leo Kottke's irregular but always fascinating blog still up? Yes. It is.

This neat little reference was pointed at me recently. Beware the death of a thousand pop-ups, but the content is pretty keen.

Oh, what the hell. I'll jump on the hysteria bandwagon too. Now you're on it as well. I guess it wouldn't be so compelling if it didn't sound so plausible.

An Exerpt from The First Cut Is the Most Heartrending, Jessica Lynch's SpecialOps Barber Tells All by PFC Randall Neubauer:

I see the backs of heads all day and I run clippers over every one of them. But when Jessica came in, I knew: she was different. She sat down and I looked at the back of her head and I knew: that was hair that was strong; it was resilient; it was going to go to Iraq and back and change the way we think about the Army. I used a number seven clipper.
...
When Jessica came back and I saw her on the plane, I knew it was only a matter of time before The Call came. Inside of a month, they sat her down in the chair in front of me and I had out the old number seven. She asked for no gel and a light spritz of water.

This is the dumb link that's going around right now.
Now you know. It's silly and the file's kind of big.

I hadn't read You Damn Kid before. It's a neat web comic. That one's kinda dirty, but so's life.

A threat made good, the lightning turned into thunder, and that into rain bouncing off of the top of the building. The first drops found home and signaled the rest, which followed with military precision.

If you haven't read Achewood, you're missing out on a comic that captures exactly what it's like to live in the South and to be an anthropomorphic animal who runs a record company. OK, it's not always about Ray Smuckles, but it is today.

Street Paintings. Check out the gallery.

Sherb: Here's the article I mentioned, and the index of the other two. As I understand it, there'll be more.

Coffee: It's what's for Breakfast.
Coffee: It's Not just for Breakfast any more.
Coffee: Do you need a reason?
Coffee: The Buzz lasts a minute. The addiction lasts a week. The trauma and emotional damage last a lifetime. Kind of like High School.

Much like the word "and" (correctly spelled "&"), I think the word "with" is obsolete. I've been spelling it "w," "w/" or "\w" since my days taking notes in college. I usually use the first spelling when the word is alone, and one of the latter two when it is attached to another word, such as "out" or "forth."
That is all.

Hey: I take guitar lessons at Austin School of Music. My teacher, Glenn (he's on the Teachers page), is exactly the kind of teacher I was looking for when I signed up: he knows a thousand chords and plays at least a little bit of everything. I had to move my lesson this week, as I'm going to Brenham to deal with car stuff. When I've spoken to him on the phone, Glenn's always sounded like he just woke up. See: he's a real jazz guitar player.

I do so love poetry early in the morning. I'm randomly proud of that one.

This week's Brezsny says the car that wouldn't start this morning won't start today, but it will be a jet-airplane in 5 years. Type of thing.
According to my analysis of the astrological omens, it's time for you to make two corrections. First, you are suffering from an exaggerated sense of what's possible to accomplish in the short term. I urge you to deflate your grandiosity a bit. Second, your expectations of what you can pull off in the long run are way too small. I authorize you to pump them up.
In fact, that's a failing I've struggled with for a long time. I'll keep it in mind.

Ahem:
Holy Crap!

This is happening RIGHT NOW!

Ahhh, Childhood Memories made foul by time.

As the old mercury drops (an archaic expression. How d'ya like that?), the One True Path Becomes Clear:
There is no God but God, and Coffee is his prophet.

Also, I have what I find to be a pretty satisfactory answer to one of my verbal querries: Pithy. The definition that interests me particularly is "Full or composed of pith." My understanding of pith is that it is bulky, and not necessarily dense. Pith is made for moving water through tiny holes and is thus full of air when dried. Pithy materials (wood, plants) tend to float in water, meaning that they have a lower density than water. Thus, I postulate that a good opposite for "dense" is "pithy."

There was a surprise brother machine show last night. He didn't go on until midnight, and the sound was pretty messed up, but the show was still great. He's got energy that's honestly scary when he gets goin', particularly when he's been awake for pushing 36 hours. The drummer from another band (there were two others last night, actually) jumped up with him and did an admirable job. Just the two of them, with the videos that Flash, Caustic and Billy Business had been working on all weekend, sounded great and became a little surreal.
At the end of the show, the management at the Ritz asked him back. I gotta say, that's kind of a first. I'm used to shows ending with a little conversation between him and the management to the effect of "Son, you can't come here no more," and him walking away smiling. He seemed too tired to really be happy last night, but it'll hit him this morning. He's welcome to play at a real venue on 6th. My brothers are rock stars.

I should say: the sound wan't messed up at the fault of anybody at the Ritz. Flash brought his beats on a tape to be played via a camera with the videos. The sound from the little camcorder to the pro sound system wasn't very good. They told him they'd fix it for next time. Also, he didn't give them very much time to play with it. It wasn't particularly anybody's fault. Those things are pretty squirrely.

When I quit drinking coffee, I get sluggish. When I start again, it's like waking up for the first time in a week.

Sweet Lord'a Mercy.

OK: yes, this is actually a "smoking is bad" ad in disguise, and yes, we all know that smoking is bad and that it will kill you, but this is funny anyway.
Am I the only one who assumes that everyone who starts smoking knows it's bad for you? It's like assuming that everyone who isn't Christian hates Christians because the bible says so. People who aren't Christians and hate Christians don't make up the majority of non-Christians, at least in my experience. The non-Christians haven't beat me up yet. The non-smokers haven't ever told me smoking wasn't bad. They tell me at the tobacco shop that my pipe will kill me. There's no bones about it, as it were.
I'm just sayin' is all.

Wow. What a beautiful take on the medium of Web Cartooning. Me like Pie also.

I have an apostrophe abuse admission: I only do it when I'm writing by hand, but I add one after "#" when I mean numbers. I know it's wrong and I know I shouldn't do it. I don't when I'm typing. The think is, it doesn't even bug me.

I keep having this thought:
Man, there are so many books these kids are reading today while they wait for the New Harry Potter, they just keep reading to get that fix. It's like they've just got to have something to read and they don't really care what it is.
And then I think: yeah, so? That's good, right? It's how I read...
It's just creepy. Yeah, they watch more TV than any generation before them, but they also read like none in a long time. I live in the South, in one of the states people point to when they want an example of a bad education system, but we can't keep books for school-age kids on the shelves. Ruthie's school is pushing her to read in a more effective way than mine ever did, and kids get literary references (albeit ones in books aimed at them, but is that bad?).
Watch out: the next generation are readers. I guess it's about time we had one o' them again. I better get writing already, or I'll be left completely behind.

Wow. I'm not the only one who thought that about the Lord of the Rings movies. It's good to know.

Everybody around me is at least a little sick. I'm in good company, hacking away.

Also, I'm sure I'm the last person in the world who hadn't seen Creatures In My Head, but it's also quite nifty.

I think cat and girl may be the best comic since PLIF. A teaspoon of hooker. Good lord.

testTEST
testTEST
testTEST

HEY!

Clear yer schedule for
February 22!
So you can watch me
destroy my fellow BP employees
through the magic of
Arm Wrasslin!
That is all.

Nothing is quite like Truffles from Paris.
Mmmmm... Life changing...

Oh, and hey, in case it comes up, and in case anybody ever asks you, and in case anybody ever says "if you don't like America, you can go live somewheres else," my response is this:
I love my country. I love the people in my country. I love the rich history we're living through, and I love the fact that, as far as countries go, ours is very young yet. We're barely a teenager in country terms. This is when the country needs two things: unconditional love and guidance. We need to grow up a little, and that means we have to get over the whole idea that we can be free-wheeling, gun-slinging, each other-murdering people, and be a functioning society that understands that the only way a society can work is for the people in it to not kill the people in it. America had a beautiful childhood that was a lot of fun. America got to learn from the best, some Adult Countries who've sort of been everywhere and done everything (one of them literally being pretty much everywhere for a while). This shaped the youth of this great country and that influence is still very much obvious today. It's why we say "bless you" when people sneeze and why we have this need to go take over Mars: we came by our imperialism honestly. It's why we place so much importance on tradition and dynasty, even when those traditions and dynasties are only very new. It's why we say things like "serving you since 1986." Those things matter in Europe, and so they damn well matter to us. At least, that's how it has been. As we enter our adolescence, we are forming our own identity. Maybe we'll hang out with the wrong crowd for a while. Maybe we'll do things the hard way and reinvent the wheel a few times. That's fine, and that's our prerogative. The people of this country are its conscience and we have to do what is right because it is right. That's a hard lesson to learn and it smacks childhood squarely in the face. Adulthood is cold and a little boring, but it's a necessety: it's what happens when you stop being a child. I love my country and I love watching it grow up.

Perhaps the stunningest of all commentaries.

My bagel got all cold.
I was gonna, like, make a snack of a bagel and juice. It's become my breakfast of late, and I have to admit one of which I am fond. I got the bagel at about 11am, and came up to my desk. Today, just to be different, I also obtained some lovely, pulpy orange juice and grapefruit juice (separate. I'm not a big fan of 'em together). I drank my Grapefruit juice right away and enjoyed it. Then, I had to work. Stuff started piling up, so I started working, ignoring my sad little rapidly cooling bagel. Two minutes ago, when I finally took a bite, it was all cold and hard. Oh well. I still have my orange juice.

Even stunninger commentary.
Thanks again, Sherbert.
Toshi and I did that one together. Ain't it sweet?

Toshi and I have been on a Will Smith/DJ Jazzy Jeff+Fresh Prince kick of late. I ordered Smith's first "solo" album, Big Willie Style (we all remember that one, right?) and a book from Amazon. Yeah, I know, I work at a bookstore and I ordered a book from Amazon. There's a reason. The book isn't available. The publisher doesn't have it, no bookstores have it, we had several and they all disappeared. I didn't buy it fast enough. Oddly, Amazon claims to have it and be able to ship it out in 24 hours. So, they're sitting on a big inventory of this book and nobody else has it. I could rant and bitch, but we did that with Egger's first novel. We had 1000 and they had none, so I guess it's fair.
Anyway, the book that the pub's out of stock on will be ready in 24 hours. The Smith album: 2-4 day wait.

Stunning social commentary.
Thanks, Sherbert.

President Bush: And... we in this room will do all we can to keep you free and safe.

Mister: ...by continuing to piss off the neighbors with bombs.

President Bush: America is the land of second chance.

Mister: Chances. We say second chances, in English.

President Bush: All of us, parents, teachers, families, must work together to counter the negative influences of the culture.

Mister: Buddy, that is the culture.

Hey: How 'bout this: a legal brief filed by 5 military lawyers. I'm reading it now. I'll drop an opinion if I form one.
Found via Salon.com.

It's enough to make you spit, I'll tell you, the whole Gay Marriage Thing.
On the one hand, the point is that it isn't traditional. Neither is waiting until a woman's older than 12 to get married. Neither is giving her rights. Neither is assuming that non-white people are actually human. Hell, if you go back far enough, marriage isn't traditional: it's a new-fangled idea put forth by those freakish people with thumbs and little foreheads. Actually, when there was a difference between the thumbites and the non-thumbites, marriage was a dim thing of the future and hadn't yet grown out of the harem philosophy espoused by so much of nature.
On the other, marriage is about procreation, right? That's why we enforce divorce or euthanasia when a couple don't start popping out babies? That's why we make couples sign an agreement that the woman will be pregnant within a year after marriage?
I don't know. Maybe there isn't a point that will convince me that homosexuals shouldn't be allowed the protection of the law for their unions. Maybe there is, and I haven't heard it yet. I'd say the jury's still out, but nobody's made a good point to me either way yet.

I didn't know Margaret Cho had a blog, but it doesn't surprise me. I've had a good ten minutes, skimming the posts there. Maybe you will too.

Hi, Mom.

Two things will be different at this year's wrasslin' tournament.
1. The public will be allowed, within reason, to watch.
2. I WILL DOMINATE!
heehee.

On the one hand, we do things that would set me off screaming if they happened to me as a retail customer, and on the other, I now know why those sonsofbitches at every retail establishment I go to do the things that set me off screaming most every time I try to deal with them. They lie because the truth is complicated and not pleasant. They lie because the truth isn't part of the retail experience.
The truth, when you order a book (or, really, anydamnthing you order at a retail esablishment), is this: We don't know how long it will take. Your book (or whatever) will arrive when it arrives. I've done, within the extremely limited scope available to me, the sum total of what I can do. From here on out, it's up to the gods of Buying and Receipt, and to God, when your book (etc.) gets here, if your book (...) indeed gets here. If the Buying gods see fit, It will be ordered the next time we order from the sources we order from, and it will arrive if they see fit to send it and God sees fit to allow it to arrive, and the gods of Receipt put it into the system and it's not lost, mangled or just plain vaporized by evil magic, then you'll be in a position to get your book (,).
That's the answer, and so we say "I'll order it, and it should be availble in 5 business days or sooner." Because the lie is more "retail" than the truth.
Now You Know.

*Caution. Contains Filth*
There's this commercial that I saw, I think during the SuperBowl. The name of the pill has evaded me every time I've gone to check on it but one, that one because I saw the confusing commercial while the computer was actually running and on the net. The ad is a guy throwing a football through a tire that's hanging from a tree. There is no indication of what this pill is supposed to do. Thus, our most puerile assumptions must be correct, right? I mean, football through a tire, right, nudge nudge wink wink.
It's sad how correct that actually is. It's an erectile dysfunction treatment. I guess the visual euphemism is better than directness.
"Hey guys: Having trouble throwing a football through a tire, know what I mean; Is your wife a goer? Does she go? Nudge nudge wink wink? Are you a goer, but having trouble, ahem, f******, because your, ahem, p**** isn't as hard as it used to be?"

Sick two days in a row. Wish I could say I was out having a good time and kickin' it old skool. I wasn't. I was sitting around the house, drinking hot tea and hot lemon-ginger-echinacea-cayenne juice. A'yup.

Writing today, staying home sick, been to the airport twice, and lunch. Fun and things.

Good one today.

I bumped into this via an article on Salon:
This bugs me more than meat-clown. I don't exactly know why; maybe it's the grinnin' pig sellin' porkflesh. Yeah, that's probably it. There are even bad cartoons touting the wonders of pork. I mean, it's low fat, right? That's why there's that folk saying, "thin as a pig," right? It's like a joke from old Simpsons, really, but it'd have Tress MacNeille doing the voices.

Although, speaking of Snopes, here's this story too, in its full glory. It explains the sad little protest we got outside when she signed here at the store, and the sign that said something about her having made the soldiers wait for Thanksgiving dinner. The answer is really pretty pedestrian: When a dignitary visits, everybody eats late. When everybody eats late, everybody complains. It's a human trait, and I'm sure it happens whenever somebody comes to visit an army base or any time anybody ever eats late. I'm just sayin' is all.
See, if they gave them butter guns...
Blorch!

OK, this one claims that it was queen victoria.
Snopes seems quiet on the subject. I'll keep looking.

I got this from a kind of questionable source, but I heard this:
Buttons on coat-sleeves are there to keep you from wiping you nose on them. The story I heard is that it goes back to Napoleon, who saw an officer wipe his nose on his sleeve and had a tailor put buttons on the coats as a preventative. I'll see if I can find that from another source...

Oh, hey, PS, this also seems wonderful, although I don't wanna pay shipping on Chocolate from Paris.

I bumped into this while looking for this, and, particularly, this.
And there's nothing, and I mean nothing, wrong with bumping into chocolate.
So, friends who know me, I've got a chocolate sampler (I got it for Xmas) with chocolate from around the world. Anybody wanna be able to say you've tasted the difference between Ecuadorian and Ghanan chocolate?

PS. Don't click on the link from the 18th of December. It's silly and dumb. On second though, click on it. It's silly and dumb.

Oh yeah, new year, new projects. More as it happens.

It's quiet out there. Geez.

.

I went to Google (at the behest of a coworker). I entered the words miserable and failure, with quotes. I hit "I'm Feeling Lucky."
Here's the google search page.
Here's what happened when I told it I felt lucky.

That's actually a parody of another list. How meta. How geek. How personal and relatively unfunny to the masses.
It's also a joke based upon a misheard conversation, based upon an old kinda joke that isn't a joke, exactly. How to explain without explaining?

From the Desk of Satan

Shopping list:
Pears
Milk
Sunglasses
Cigarettes
Ketchup

There's an old adage that goes "You Can't Cheat An Honest Man." I, though, don't like nice people 'cause it's so damn hard to cheat them. Grrr...

It's that other Mister, the one who sneaks to the top when I'm tired or feeling the need to be liked, that weirds me out. He's so damn slimy and I know that everyone should hate him and want to shun him, but it never happens like that. I want so very much to be tired, but I don't think it's really an option right now. Maybe if I sleep, I can shut him out.

And by the way, juvenile creepy is so much creepier than adult-y creepy, but I think most of the really nasty creepy stuff that people do to eachother is really juvenile. Adults don't act like that, or rather, people who are adult and have adult views and outlooks don't act like that. Grown-up persons of age advanced beyond 12 do, in fact, act like that, even though they eventually get called adults.
My point: they aren't necessarily adults.
Also, ewww, creepy!

It's so hard sometimes, but I gotta limit this to
ewww, creepy
with no details on a public forum.

Oh, hey!
Please Note:
I guess it's worth menthioning the following:
1. Point the First
        a)the bear crapped out (sorry, sorry) after about 80 hours of number generating.
        b)dinner was nice. Thanks, you guys!
        c)see youse Thursday.
2. Point the Second
        a)I didn't have one.
        b)or, actually, I forgot and am trying to remember it.
        c)or something.
3. Point the Third.
        a)nope.
        b)still nothing.
        c)OK, I give up.

Reposted from another time&place

 *Ahem*
BLAH BLAH BLAH
NOBODY CARES WHAT YOU SAY.
SHUT UP ALREADY

Haiku for a Monday Morning.  

There Can Be Only Bun. Sheesh.
But the strip's been really good lately.

Sherbert: It's done.

I'm altogether too amused by this bear.
It's at 1948759. That's the 145428th prime number, according to the bear. It's been running for right at 48 hours. Hee!
That's what I do when I'm not shifting books.

I hope that's prime. It could just be spitting out (ahem) non-primes, and I wouldn't know. I mean, let me think: what are the factors of 922283...
OK, I checked some, and I'm more sure that's prime.

I left the bear running here at work overnight. It's up to just about 73000 prime numbers. The last one was 922283. When it gets up past 100000, I'll probably post again because I'm a geek that way.

It was a calm and rewarding holiday weekend here.
About 8 people were in my house, in total, for Thanksgiving, including three of my coworkers (and one of their sweeties), Toshi and a pair of pleasant and lovely Invisible Citizens. Jon made Jon-Bread, which was soft and fresh and had pine-nuts, which are three really admirable qualities in a bread. There were sodas, and potatoes and wine all around. The whole of my Wednesday Night D&D group were there (all 5 people, although there's this sixth who hasn't played in a while, but isn't quite out. He wasn't there, but he's been busy.)
On Saturday, Sherbert and Pandathan brought over their projector set-up, and we watched The Two Towers Extended Movie Thing on the relatively large screen that is the wall of my living room. I made a lasagne dish that will be better the next time I make it. I'm still learning. I mean, it's not like it's hard to cook lasagna, it's just hard to spell lasagnia the same way twice. Also, I'm making it with several substitutions in the interests of making it taste different. I put in a thick cream bechemel with cheese instead of ricotta, and I like the idea of using crushed (or whole, what the Hell) fire roasted tomatoes instead of a tomato sauce. OK, so it's not really Lasegne, it's just a dish that resembles it closely enough to fool the casual observer. Same thing, yes?
Oh, and The New Heroclix Expansion is out. (Bliss)
That's been my weekend. How 'bout yours? Oh wait, there's no commenting system on here. Ha ha!

I've had The Prime Number Shitting Bear up for an alarmingly long time. It's up to better than 12000 prime numbers and a 9.3% density.

I'm linking to them because they have a new calendar. You should buy six of them. That'd show ya.

Oh, yeah: First, owww. I worked until I was gonna puke, and then I worked some more until I was gonna puke. I'm gonna be OK now.
Second: The really barebones menu, as I promised.
Two chickens. One will be marinated with a simple brine. I'll add a little rosemary and maybe some black peppercorns. The second will be marinated in a brine with crushed red pepper, garlic, habanero sauce, black peppercorns and rubbed with a ground black pepper mix.
Steamed broccoli and asparagus. We also got apples (a pie? I don't know yet.), bananas and a seedless watermellon. The mellon was quite a treat to find and I'm excited to eat it in winter, just 'cause that's really when you need a summer fruit, right?
Sweet Potatoes with little marshmellows. marshmallows. marshmelows. Those little spun sugar doodads. You know.
A very plain sort of mashed potato. I think we'll leave the skins on. I've threatened Toshi with a split batch and the second being seasoned until the spuds turn black. That's still a possibility.
Wine. We got some tasty wine from Sister Creek. It's the same one we've been drinking for months now. The 2003 oughta be out before too long, but we're enjoying the 2002 so very much...
So. There ya' go.

I use an electronic calendar here at work.
I had a reminder that said "DEAL WITH (a particular person. I won't mention names)'S CRAP."
I thought that was unprofessional, so now it says "SETTLE (that person)'S HASH."

Also, on the Thanksgiving thing, I'll post a really bare-bones menu after we hit a grocery store tonight to pick up some specifics. I know, I'm a suicidal loon for even thinking about a grocery store this close to Black Thursday, but I'm brave and there's only so much you can do with Soy Sauce and Talcom Powder before somebody realizes that you aren't actually serving food.
Oh, and we also have mustard. Still, there's only so many ways to combine those ingredients.
So, yeah.

I'm doing Thanksgiving, sort of. Actually, I'm putting my house up as a place where folks can meet up for a meal and social time, should they so choose. I'll be cooking a little and opening it up for potluck. If you are in Austin and know how to get a'hold of me, go right ahead. I can give directions 'cause I'm just that cool.

P.S. My cooking plans as of right this moment don't include any bread, and I'm particularly not planning to make rosemary Jon-Bread, hint hint, if anybody were, hint hint, able to bring some, hint hint.

On the one hand, owww.
On the other, my arms have never looked better, I've got more energy (when I can move) and I can feel myself slowly losing that nasty jiggle around the middle that's been my trademark since college (and in elementary school. Really, It just took a sorta break during part of high school).
It's not that I don't think a belly is cute. I do, and I wouldn't want to get rid of the belly completely. I just need a little less of it.
The last estimation I got put my belly at containing twenty to thirty pounds of fat. That's too much fat, says me.
So, owww, but I'm feeling good.

The Lizard Brain is pretty damned irrisistable. I'm just glad I trained mine to make me write sometimes.

A little bit of sugary stuff makes a big difference in recovery from solid, hard work. Maybe it's also got to do with loss and reintroduction of salt, but I feel better for having had this stuff that's basically a 4:1 ratio of sugary stuff to protein, combined with electrolytes and fiber.
Point is, I don't hurt so much as I did this morning.